> Bulletproof Heart
>  by PaulAsaran
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Episode 01: Wanted Mare, Part I
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


25th of Burning Season, 1005 BA


If Rarity could be credited with nothing else, she could at least say her work was high quality. Whether it be fancy dresses and elaborate hats or – far more commonplace – work clothes, she was determined to ensure her clients only got the best.

Which is precisely why she was up at the break of dawn eyeing her inventory and checking the needs of her store. She’d started out with a simple audit: what fabrics and tools were running low, where had she overcompensated, would she need to buy extra for the first half of the Burning Season? These were simple considerations, quick to complete thanks to six years of practice and a finely tuned system of recordkeeping. Within an hour, she’d finished.

With the mundane part of her day complete – not that there was such a thing as ‘mundane’ in fashion, perish the thought! – she proceeded to the more endearing part of her morning routine. She stepped into the display room of her shop, the Wagon Train Clothier. It featured a wide circular space of hardwood, white walls and floors. Not a speck of dirt marred the floor and the windows were spotless. And the displays? Absolutely marvelous, if she said so herself. Which she did.

But not… quite… perfect. Rarity drifted from display to display, eyeing the creases and adjusting hats. The scissors and thread floating in her horn’s blue magical aura were utilized with passion to weed out nefarious misalignments, snip sneaky loose strings, and perform the occasional length adjustment. While it was true that the majority of the items in the store were simple workpony clothes of cotton and denim, that didn’t mean they should be treated with any less attentiveness and dignity than an exquisite evening gown.

Speaking of which, her eyes roamed towards the corner of the shop devoted to such things. It wasn’t much, but they were her designs, and she’d display them proudly regardless of how few of them sold. Such as that poor ‘Desert Mist’ dress with its pale colors and frilly lace. The dear thing was one of her earliest works since arriving in the little village of Spurhoof, but it had lingered on the display for the last five years. Perhaps nopony would ever buy it. Yet, as she ran her fingers along its silky surface, she found she didn’t mind. The old dress was like the store’s landmark, and she’d certainly receive questions if it were to disappear.

“Good morning, Miss Belle.”

Her ears perked to the familiar, weary voice. She looked up to see Coco descending the stairs. Blouse half-tucked, top three buttons askew, random hairs poking out of her mane and tail, bags beneath the eyes. The appearance of her assistant almost made Rarity cringe, but she kept her composure with the ease of practice. “Good morning, Miss Pommel. I say, Darling, you look like you could use another hour or two.”

Running a finger through her short, tangled mane, Coco blinked her bleary eyes. “I’ll be alright, Miss. You’re planning on going out this morning, right? I should be up to work the shop.”

Her eagerness brought a smile to Rarity’s lips. “I appreciate the thought, but you shouldn’t sacrifice your beauty sleep. The store will be fine if it opens an hour or two late.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Coco earned some points for effort, but even placing her hands on her hips and taking on a determined pose couldn’t mask the weariness in her voice. “Just need some coffee. I can take a nap after you get back.”

A moment passed as Rarity considered refusing the offer. Coco always seemed so eager to prove herself and had a tendency to take things too far. No doubt she’d been up late practicing her sewing again. Rarity would be called a hypocrite for denying anypony the option of hard work, and rightly so, but there came times when she had to put her hoof down. Then again, if she said no Coco might think she didn’t trust her to run the shop on her own.

A-ha! There was the scheme. Rarity barely managed to avoid a smirk as she sauntered up to her assistant and housemate. Coco’s effort to appear determined was just too precious, especially with her cheeks puffed up like that. Taking on the proper role of a hardmuzzled boss, Rarity crossed her arms, raised a fist and rested her chin on it, a lone finger on her cheekbone. The long look she settled upon Coco was set for maximum harshness, even as she giggled like a filly on the inside.

Coco did her best to hold the façade, but her effort to impress by sheer presence couldn’t hold up considering her disheveled mane, loose blouse, and the growing red in her cheeks. Fearing the poor thing would break in some way if she kept this up too long, Rarity finally let her smile loose. “All right, you may watch the shop for a while.”

All pretense disappeared in a flash as Coco clasped her hands and gained a grin that would challenge Celestia’s Sun for brightness. “Really?”

“Of course. You’ve been my assistant for months now. I think it’s time I trusted you with the responsibility.” Rarity took a moment to pick at a wrinkle on the shoulder of Coco’s blouse. “But only if you promise to make yourself presentable. We can’t have the guests greeted by a bad case of bedmane, now can we?”

“Thank you!” Coco gave her a quick hug and turned for the stairs.

Rarity stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. “Ah-ah! And you must promise to take that nap. I won’t have my assistant burning herself out because of overeagerness.”

“It’s a promise. Thank you so much, Miss Belle! I won’t let you down, I’ll hold the fort while you’re gone.” Coco half-walked, half-danced up the stairs, all smiles and giggles.

“I’m sure you won’t.” Rarity didn’t know if she’d been heard, but it didn’t matter. Coco, watching the store on her own. Truly, the dear had been ready for it two months ago, but Rarity had been waiting for her to take some initiative.

Coco was prepared not an hour later, dutifully manning the counter with her appearance properly attended to. She reassured Rarity again and again that things would go well, to the point that escaping out the door was something of a relief. Still, Rarity couldn’t fault her eagerness. Coco would make a fine seamstress. Perhaps one day she’d move away from this little backwater town and open a store of her own. Wouldn’t that be nice?

Stepping outside, Rarity was promptly set upon by the harsh Burning Season sun. Tipping her white, wide-brimmed hat to block the stinging rays, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness. The tiny village of Spurhoof appeared before her, and ‘tiny’ was something of an understatement.

Or was that ‘overstatement’ in this case? With less than a hundred souls, it barely even warranted a proper street. Dirt paths flattened by thousands of repeated hoofsteps over the years acted as the only things separating the old, worn buildings. ‘Dirt’ described everything about Spurhoof, from the roads to the scenery to the ponies. From any door, one needed only turn their head a little to see the distant horizon of bland hills and rocks. And to think she’d once thought she’d be in Manehattan by now. Those old dreams seemed so foolish today.

“No sense thinking about the past, Rarity.” With a firm nod, she performed one last check to ensure her dress was immaculate – though it wouldn’t be for long – and she had the things she needed in her purse. Snapping her umbrella open, she stepped into town. Ponies already moved about the buildings, early risers looking to get some things done before the heat truly kicked in. They all wore simple clothing – jeans and shirts, blouses and skirts, the occasional hat – and this always led to Rarity being the most eye-catching mare on the streets with her fancy gowns. Especially now, before the sand and dust that seemed to linger in the air invaded. Not that she begrudged the townsponies their choice of attire, especially considering it all had been made by her hand and horn.

There were others in town capable of sewing and producing clothing, of course. A small place like Spurhoof demanded its citizens develop a great many skills in order to survive. Yet Rarity was the only one to have made a business out of it, and her efforts had rewarded her with a monopoly. Nopony bothered making their own clothing when they could just buy them from her for a slightly higher price than the materials themselves were worth. And Rarity? She’d become one of the wealthier citizens in town.

But not quite as wealthy as she needed to be.

Her destination came in sight: Spurhoof’s very own branch of Howler’s Bank. Not that this was a special thing, of course. It seemed every town in Equestria, no matter how small, had at least one. It was a squat structure, not very appealing on the outside, and with only a simple wooden sign that hung limply from some iron chains to mark its identity. Citizens of Spurhoof cared more about practicality than appearances, so this suited them just fine.

A familiar orange thestral exited the building just as Rarity stepped onto the porch. One of the few ponies to bother buying Rarity’s more formal dresses, Night Squash caught every eye in her light blue attire with its long sleeves and billowing, layered skirt. It had been dirtied a bit by regular use in this dustbowl of a town, but just seeing her creation being worn at all brought a grin to Rarity’s lips.

“Oh, Rarity.” Miss Night – she was vehemently opposed to being called ‘Miss Squash’ – gave her a little wave. “Come to make your weekly deposit, have you?”

“But of course.” The two exchanged a brief hug, Rarity paying little mind to the dirt that got on her dress. “How are you, Night? Rumor has it the farm’s seen some rough times lately.”

The mare’s leathery wings opened just slightly to emphasize her frustration and her scowl let her fangs peek out from under her lips. “The rumors are accurate, but I assure you it has nothing to do with my family’s work. Somepony’s been stealing from our fields.”

Rarity threw a hand to her lips. “They’re what? But who would do such a thing?”

Night shook her head, her pale green mane – such an unfortunate color! – swaying over her eyes. “We don’t know yet, but Banter already spoke to Cranky about it.” She leaned close and Rarity, recognizing the universal sign of an impending secret, followed suit. “The Deputy said there are signs of an Apple posse in the area.”

The only appropriate response to this was to gasp. “No! The Bad Apple Gang? Here?”

“Indeed, here!” Night had her inflections down to an art. “No telling what those dirty rascals are up to, but I wouldn’t put it past their lot to go stealing our produce. Banter and Sandy are going to stay out this afternoon and watch for them, just in case.”

There was no acting in Rarity’s response this time. “Stay out? All day?” She cast a wary gaze beyond the Bank’s shadow to the sun-beaten town. She was already perspiring beneath her dress despite the parasol, and they wanted to stay out all day long? “Don’t they at least have an umbrella or something? The poor dears will get sunstroke for certain.”

Night Squash shrugged, but the way her left fang dug into her lower lip betrayed her nonchalant response. “They’ll have to cope. Extra water and the like. We can’t very well let those hooligans rob us out of house and home.”

“I suppose… Oh!” Rarity’s smile returned in full force. “Why don’t you stop by the shop on your way home? Coco and I can whip up some sort of… I don’t know, tent? Some sort of covering to protect your stallions from the sun.”

For a moment, Night’s eyes lit up, but then she frowned. “I don’t know, Miss Belle. I appreciate the offer, but that fabric of yours is awfully bright.” She picked at the sleeves of her blue dress as if to demonstrate. “If the Bad Apple Gang knows they’re there, why, they might just sneak up behind them, and then I’ll be out a husband and son.”

“Nonsense.” Rarity set her hands to her hips as she starting considering potential designs. Perhaps something low lying so the boys could observe without being obvious? And the colors would have to be just right to blend in. Perhaps they could cover the shelter with sand? “We’ll think of something, Darling. You go and let Miss Pommel know what’s going on, and we’ll find a design that is practical. Free of charge, of course. No—” she raised her hand to stop Night before her argument could begin “—I won’t hear of it. This is your livelihood and family on the line. That’s worth infinitely more than a few yards of fabric.”

Night stared at her for a moment, mouth opened in preparation for some kind of counter. But then her expression softened and her ears folded back. “The Night Mother bless you, Rarity. You’ve been the best thing to hit this town since Cranky Doodle.”

Rarity chuckled at that. “I think you exaggerate, but it is appreciated. Now, you go see Coco and I’ll meet you both later.”

After indulging another hug from the beaming mare – and reminding herself to wash her dress at the earliest opportunity – Rarity bade her goodbye and entered the Bank. The interior defied the building’s outer appearance with solid wood flooring and walls, bright magilights, and a cool breeze generated by some enchantment barely perceptible to Rarity’s magical senses. Evidently the Bank was having a slower day than usual, for she was the only customer present. The two desks in the lobby were manned by the pegasus Tidewind and unicorn Crème Brûlée, both wearing official brown dresses. Made by Rarity, of course.

But it was the diamond dog in the crisp grey suit who noticed her first. Standing near a water barrel with a metal cup in paw, he grinned and approached with tail wagging. “Miss Rarity! A pleasure when you visit, as always. What can humble Goldy do for pony today?”

“And a pleasure to see you too, Mr. Gold. I hope everything is going well for you this week?” As she spoke, Rarity reached into her purse and pulled out a small yellow strip of paper.

He accepted it, his paw grasping the receipt gently despite its size. “Goldy always have good week, Miss Rarity. Is because Miss Rarity visits. Will Miss Rarity want her usual withdrawal with Miss Rarity’s credit deposit?”

Giggling, she nodded. “Of course, you flatterer, you.”

“Goldy is not flatterer, only honest.” He patted her hand and offered a smile that was surprisingly warm despite the teeth. He then pulled a pair of sapphires and a milky white opal with streaks of brown out of his pocket.

“Oh, goodness!” She took the opal and held it up to her eyes, studying its intricate lines. “Gemstones today instead of bits? Whatever is the occasion?”

“At Equivalent Value, but yes. And Goldy need no occasion for Miss Rarity.”

With a sly smile, Rarity reached up to pat his cheek. “Now, Mister Gold, I suggest you be cautious or your employees will begin spreading rumors about us.”

“Bah!” Mr. Gold barked a laugh. “Ponies not talk! Ponies like job.”

Tidewind spoke up from her desk. “Besides, we all know he’s married to the Bank vault. Not much gossip to share in that department.” She flashed a smarmy grin.

Mr. Gold matched the expression and chuckled. “Very true, ponies know Goldy so well. Goldy apologizes for leading Miss Rarity on. Can Miss Rarity forgive Goldy?”

With only the perfect amount of daintiness, Rarity pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed. “Oh, dear, I don’t know. A mare can only be led on for so far before her heart cracks under the pressure! Perhaps you have pushed me away from pursuing love for the rest of my life, and I shall become naught but a spinster crone.”

“Miss Rarity, a spinster crone?” Another one of those barking laughs. “Goldy thinks not! Miss Rarity is pony gem, and someday pony stallion will see it and put Miss Rarity in pony stallion’s vault.”

The single best response to this, Rarity knew, was to raise her muzzle high and set a hand to her hip. “No vault would hold me. I am not a treasure to be polished and shown off.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Crème Brûlée said with a wistful smile and a Prench accent Rarity still hadn’t concluded the validity of. She rested her chin on her steepled hands and sighed dreamily. “I for one would love to be put on a pedestal.”

The idea almost brought a scowl to Rarity’s lips. Almost, but she held it back. She slipped the gems into her purse and gave Mr. Gold one last nod before turning for the door. “Then I hope you find a good stallion to raise you up. I, in the meantime, have a donation to deliver. My thanks as always, Mr. Gold, and a good day to you ladies.”

“A good day, Miss Rarity,” Mr. Gold called behind her. “You always have a friend in the Boss.”

Rarity stepped back out into the heat of the sun. Despite her best efforts, her lip curled at the fresh memory of Crème Brûlée’s innocent exclamation. Her steps were more pronounced, her hooves clopping loudly on the Bank’s porch before being dulled by the sands of the street. Rarity knew she shouldn’t begrudge the mare her… ‘dream’. It was hardly a respectable way to live though, was it?

She’d had a dream once. It seemed so long ago, and really, who was she to say six years wasn’t ‘so long ago’? Six years in this little town, perfecting her trade with the hope of one day being able to return home with her head held high. She’d told herself she’d remained behind because she needed funding for the return trip, and then that she would need a proper financial readiness to resume business when she did. Now? Rarity could no longer delude herself. She had the means but not the will.

Her sour ruminations were interrupted by a shadow over her face. She glanced up in time to see a lanky, gold-colored stallion standing in her way. Without breaking her stride, she swiftly analyzed his smug smile and determined that his placement was no coincidence. He wore dirty, faded jeans and a brown vest over a green shirt, and his two-toned orange mane was topped by a common cowboy hat. Undoubtedly, he expected her to pause; she defied him by sidestepping and walking past without so much as a sideways glance.

“Oh-ho!” He was walking at her side – backwards – a moment later. “Nice reflexes, miss. Here I was, wanderin’ into town looking for a drink, and what do I see but a pretty thing like you lookin’ all puffed up. And I just had to ask myself, ‘what’s got that pretty lass so upset?’ ”

Ah, a drifter. That was the last thing Rarity needed! “Perhaps I am merely annoyed that some stallion thinks he can charm me after having rolled around in the dirt, as you so clearly have.”

“What? It adds to my charm.” He clearly believed that statement to be true, given his smirk. He turned to walk forward, hands in his pockets and tail flicking playfully. “Come now, won’t you give me your name at least?”

“Before you’ve given me yours?” She didn’t even deign to glance at him and kept her muzzle held high. “It seems that you need lessons in how to greet a lady.”

He hastened his steps and was walking backwards once more, this time just a little ahead of her. He took off his hat and half-bowed, not losing his pace as he did. “Forgive me, miss. Where are my manners? It’s Braeburn, humble drifter, eagerly at your service.”

Rarity came to an abrupt pause as she studied him. Her ears lowered at the sense of unease spreading through her. “You’re an Apple.”

He blinked, then grinned. “It seems my reputation precedes me.”

By Luna’s Stars, but he was cocky! With a derisive sniff, she walked past him once again. “A braeburn is a type of apple.”

He laughed and fell in stride with her once more. “Caught me cold.”

Her teeth ground together as she wondered how long she’d have to endure this fool’s presence. The church was near, if she could just get inside… Oh, but what if he followed her? Being indoors and alone with a drifter such as him didn’t sound appealing, especially if that drifter was an Apple.

He was talking again, but she heard not a word, for suddenly his name meant something more to her than just a nuisance to be forgotten by morning. This stallion was an Apple. Perhaps a member of the Bad Apple Gang? She knew she shouldn’t make that kind of judgement call so quickly, but Night Squash had mentioned something about a posse of the Gang being around. If Braeburn was one of the Bad Apples…

Her nervousness, once a small voice in the back of her mind, turned into a torrent of fear.

Just as she started to glance around in hopes of finding some help, a new shadow came over them both, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps. They stopped as a large lizard, its scales the color of amber, paused before them. The sand lizard was as tall as Rarity was, but its shape was lean. A trio of webbed frills ran along its neck, and three more large ones along its stiff tail. The creature looked right at Rarity and flicked a long, pink, forked tongue that tickled her nose.

She smiled and scratched beneath its chin. “Why, good morning to you too, Piecazzo.” Her anxiety disappeared in an instant at the sight of the familiar Dust Devil. She leaned back to take in the gnarled, scowling face of his rider. “And a good morning to you too, Deputy.”

“Miss Belle.” Cranky Doodle tipped his hat to her, though the grimace never left his face. He leveled the ever-smiling Braeburn with the same bitter expression. “This drifter causing you trouble?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Piecazzo, perhaps sensing the tension in her tone, peered at Braeburn and hissed. The drifter wisely stepped back, his smile losing some of its sharpness. “Hey, don’t mind me, good sir. Just hopin’ to cheer the little lady up, that’s all. No harm intended.” So he said, but Rarity couldn’t help but notice how his hand twitched for the pistol on his hip.

Deputy Doodle didn’t so much as flinch, his eyes like cold steel. “Bad Apples ain’t welcome in my town, son, but we don’t go starting fights if we can help it. You do what you came here to do, then git. I don’t want to see you in Spurhoof come morning.”

At that moment, Braeburn’s demeanor changed. It was a subtle shift, but Rarity caught it: the perked ears, stiffening of his back, his fingers lightly touching the grip of his pistol. His smile didn’t change, but gone was the friendliness in his eyes. “You sure you wanna treat an Apple that way, old timer?”

Casually, Cranky pulled his revolver out from under his vest. He let it rest on his knee, thumb on the hammer. He said nothing, only met the young stallion’s stare with his eternal glower.

Tension added to the sweltering heat of the morning. Though he had to look up to meet Cranky’s gaze, Braeburn did meet it, and with each second his smile grew less and less pronounced until, finally, he shared Cranky’s scowl. His hand didn’t move from his hip and Cranky’s revolver didn’t take aim. Even so, the tautness of their muscles betrayed the intensity of the moment almost as easily as their eyes did.

Rarity didn’t dare move, not wanting to provoke either of them. Out the corner of her eye, she noted the townsfolk slipping to a presumably safe distance, although more than a few were pulling out guns of their own. If Braeburn decided to start something, he’d soon find himself outnumbered. The only exceptions were three earth ponies that stood near the saloon, none of them familiar. The trio watched the events unfold with an eagerness she found disturbing. More of Braeburn’s ilk?

Then, just as quickly as the confrontation had begun, it passed; Braeburn raised his hands and backed away, that easygoing smile slipping back onto his face. “Hey, take it easy, Deputy. I didn’t mean no harm. We’ll get our supplies and then be out of your mane.” He turned to Rarity and tipped his hat to her. “I hope we meet again, miss.” He kept his eyes on her as he went to join the other three. There was something distinctly unpleasant in his gaze.

Only when he fully turned away did Rarity release the breath she’d been holding. Reaching up to pet Piecazzo's scaled neck, she looked to Cranky. “Thank you for that. Really.”

Cranky put his revolver away, but his sharp eyes didn’t leave the four ponies as they made their way through town. He sniffed and spat on the ground before asking, “You don’t keep a gun, do you?”

Already put off by the wad of saliva, Rarity pulled her hand away as if stung. “Of course not! I have no intention of touching one of those things.”

Now he looked at her, and though his unpleasant expression was unchanged from what it had been a second ago it suddenly felt a lot more judging. Rarity fidgeted under his piercing eyes, absently adjusting the strap of her purse to keep from looking directly at him.

“You should get one,” Cranky growled. “A lady like you needs a way to defend herself.”

Determined not to be intimidated any further, she forced a smile to her lips and hoped it was pleasant. “That’s what I have you for, correct? I have faith in you.”

“‘Cept I can’t be everywhere at once,” he countered, turning to look down the street. The gang of new ponies had disappeared save for the white stallion, who lazed by the entrance to the store. “Those ponies are up to something, and I don’t like the way that kid was looking at you.”

“Believe me, neither do I.” She shivered at the memory. Perhaps she should take a bath early today, assuming she was willing to work up a sweat at the well to get the water. If there was anything her home was not well positioned for, it was water access. “Even so, I don’t intend to let a mere look disturb me.”

Cranky cast one last glance her way, snorted, and gave Piecazzo a light kick. “Keep your eyes open tonight, Miss Belle.”

She watched him go, her lips pursed tight to avoid speaking her mind. Really, a gun? For her? She wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, it wasn’t as if she would have to resort to such measures in her life. She’d be more likely to shoot herself on accident.

Still, it would certainly be wise to lock her door tonight before bed. She made a mental note as she turned and marched for the church. Cleric Cloud Walker stood waiting for her, dressed in the traditional midnight blue and purple robes. Her grey feathers rustled as Rarity drew near, and she reached out to her. “Miss Belle. That ruffian didn’t hurt thee, did he?”

Bringing her smile back now that the ordeal was over, Rarity entwined her fingers briefly with the cleric, the two keeping their hands flat; the church’s symbol for an enshrouding night. They then slowly pulled their hands apart, representing the emergence of sunlight. The traditional greeting passed within only a couple seconds.

Then Rarity was digging in her purse. “Oh, no, Deputy Doodle had impeccable timing. Everything’s fine.”

Cleric Walker heaved a sigh, her shoulders sagging. “Luna be praised. We can’t imagine what a bunch of drifters would be doing in a little town like this, but we pray they pass soon.” Her eyes lit up at the sight of the gems Rarity produced. “Oh, my. Gems instead of bits? Goldy must be in a good mood today.”

“He certainly seemed to be.” She offered the gemstones with a smile. “Who knows? Perhaps you can have the opal Accurately Valued and make the church a small mint.”

“Oh, we doubt that very much.” Cleric Walker took the gems carefully, as if she feared they would break on contact. “Miss Rarity, the Church of Mother Night is grateful, as always; thou are truly the only pony to make consistent donations every week like this. For years! But really, thou knows we wouldn’t take offense if thou skipped a week and used the bits to buy something for yourself now and then.”

Rarity scoffed and shook her head. “It is a matter of pride! And duty, of course. I wouldn’t dream of missing a donation.”

With a sigh, Cleric Walker tucked the gems into a pocket of her robe. When next she spoke, she dropped the religious tone. “Rarity, sweetie. Your donations make up roughly seventy percent of all the donations in Spurhoof. It must be quite the drain, so unless you’re trying to pay for some terrible sin of the past – doubtful – I think Princess Luna wouldn’t mind.”

With a quiet ‘hmm’, Rarity took to studying Cloud Walker with her fingers splayed lightly over her lips. The cleric shifted under her gaze, abruptly looking wary.

“Tell you what, you feel so guilty taking all my bits?” Rarity reached out to pinch the cleric’s robes and tug on them lightly, revealing a small hole. “You can come by my shop and use some of those donations to buy yourself some new vestments. These things are in desperate need of replacement.”

“Oh, we see!” Cloud Walker flicked Rarity’s fingers away and smirked. “Looking to drum up business via donations, hmm? How sinful.”

“Well, a lady must drum up business somehow,” Rarity countered wryly. “So of course I poured thousands of bits into the church over the years just to have you purchase a two-hundred-bit robe. If that’s not a sound business practice, I don’t know what is.”

“Two hundred bits!” Cloud Walker slapped a hand over her heart. “For a new robe the church would send me for fifty?”

“But of course! Custom works require extra effort. Besides…” Rarity paused to study the cleric once more, an old idea coming to life in her mind. Her tail flicked and she felt her lips stretch into an eager smile. “Yes. Yes! It’ll be worth it if I can get some sapphires to accent the embroidery.”

Cloud Walker paused, her wings twitching. She rubbed a hand over her chest, as if feeling the new design she couldn’t yet see. “Sapphires, you say? Embroidered?”

Rarity was rubbing her hands, her smile having become an all-out grin. “Yes… I can just see you up on the podium, the night torches making the gems glisten. Oh, it will be marvelous!”

The cleric’s face drifted from wonder to uncertainty, then to eagerness, then doubt. It looked as though she were having a mental war with herself. “We, um, might be interested in seeing a design. The Princess, may her Moon shine upon us all, wouldn’t begrudge us for spending in her name.”

“Of course not, Darling. Oh, but what am I doing? I need to get some shopping done and return to the shop. I promised Miss Night to help her with a little project and it wouldn’t do to lump all that work on Coco.” Rarity waved as she turned back to the street. “Ta-ta! I’ll see you later, Cleric Walker.”

“What? Oh, yes of course.”





Rarity sat back in her chair in her second floor lounge, a glass of water in hand. Coco sat opposite her, hands clasped between her knees. She was doing her best to appear at ease, but the slight twitch of her left ear gave away her anxiety.

“This,” Rarity declared with glass raised, “was a good day.” She took a long drink, enjoying the cool liquid on her throat.

Coco gained a hopeful smile. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

“We helped the Squash Family out, got a couple good orders done, and that commission from Miss Walker is going to be an exquisite design. The robes aren’t due until the thirty-ninth, which gives us two weeks. More than enough time.” Rarity set her glass down and leaned towards her assistant. “And you did a marvelous job watching the shop this morning, Darling.”

The praise transformed Coco’s little smile into a beaming grin. “I did?”

Her happiness was contagious. Rarity sat back once more with a relaxed sigh, letting her body slump in the comfortable seat. “But of course. I knew you were ready. Why, I may let you take over for me completely at nights, rather than stick around the shop floor double-checking everything you do.”

“I would love that!” But then Coco’s ears dropped back and her grin disappeared. “N-not that I don’t like having you checking my work, Miss Belle! It’s always a joy to—”

“Tut-tut.” Rarity waved weakly at her. “I know what you meant. Honestly, Coco, you shouldn’t let yourself be so high-strung all the time. Stress isn’t good for the complexion. And how often do I have to ask for you to call me ‘Rarity’?”

Flushing, Coco’s gaze fell back to her clasped hands. “It wouldn’t be proper. Miss.”

Another sigh, this time of mild frustration. That mare was talented and developing at a nice pace, but she really needed to grow some backbone. She let the matter slide; why work against a night that had been so good so far? She glanced at the clock above her window. “Are you not going to church this evening?”

“No, not tonight.” Coco at last leaned back in her seat, though it took a moment for the stiffness in her shoulders to fade. “After Cleric Walker spent so much time here today, I think I’ve had enough talk of the Royal Sisters.”

That provoked a cringe from Rarity. “Yes, it does get tiring after a time, does it not? At least she’s off that kick of ‘signs in the stars’. I wonder if she really thought Princess Luna would return from her self-imposed exile?”

“Who can say?” Coco reached for the pitcher of water on the table between them and poured herself a small glass. “I can’t blame her for getting excited about the Church’s interpretations though. Can you imagine if the princesses did return to Equestria?”

Rarity pondered the idea while Coco drank. What would Equestria be like if Princess Luna returned? Of course, the Church specified that she would not do so until Celestia returned as well. To have both princesses back and in charge? If Celestia really could push the sun away and make the world cooler, she would certainly welcome it. She might have adapted to this harsher middle-Equestrian climate, but a mare from Mooisville never really gets used to the heat.

At last, she conjured up a response. “I like to think that the princesses would make their return a big deal, and with that in mind, I think we’d know about it through more than just shifting stars.”

Coco set her half-emptied glass back down and shrugged. “Well, the point is that I’ve had enough preaching for one night. Cleric Walker is a good mare, no question, but sometimes I think she lays it on too thick.”

The chiming of the bell over the front door hit their ears. The mares shared uncertain looks and stood in unison. “I wonder who would come calling so late?” Coco said as they moved for the stairs.

“It could be anypony.” Rarity allowed Coco to move ahead of her. “I knew we should have locked the door. No matter, we shall just remind them of our open hours.”

Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, Coco stood in the doorway and called out. “Excuse me, sir? Can we help you?”

“I think you can, yes.”

Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. She hurried down the stairs, reaching out to grab Coco’s shoulder, but she was too late; a pair of hands caught the mare and jerked her away. Coco yelped. “W-what are you doing?”

Rarity paused in the doorway, eyes wide at the sight of Braeburn in her showroom lobby. He had an arm wrapped about Coco’s shoulder and a smug smile on his lips. Behind him stood one of his companions, a tall, brown-coated stallion sporting jeans, a broken suspender and a massive brown beard. To her credit, Coco didn’t appear afraid, although that may have been because she was too confused to react so. She stared at the slightly taller Braeburn with wide eyes, gently trying to pull away but unable to escape.

“Ah, I knew I had the right place.” Braeburn grinned and doffed his hat, giving Rarity a half-bow as he did. “I wanted to take this opportunity to say ‘goodbye,’ miss. And what a pleasure to meet your lovely young friend! A sister, perhaps?”

Her hackles rose as Rarity leveled him with a glare. “Unhand my assistant at once, you ruffian!”

“Aww, but we’re just getting to know one another, isn’t that right, Sweetness?” Braeburn used his free hand to tickle Coco’s chin. She redoubled her efforts to get away, pushing at his chest and trying to keep her face from his hand.

Rarity inhaled through clenched teeth, forcing herself to calm down. The situation seemed bad, but perhaps this drifter could be reasoned with. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but wonder where Cranky Doodle was. She’d anticipated him or somepony he knew keeping an eye on the shop tonight. It was the kind of thing he’d do.

Now calmed enough to not resort to tongue-lashing, Rarity set her hands on her hips and stood to her full height. “Alright, Mr. Apple, you have my attention. Now what is it you want?”

His smarmy grin came back in full force even as he tugged Coco a little closer. “Just to enjoy the company of a couple lovely ladies for the evening. I promise, I’ll be the perfect gentlecolt.”

Coco paused in her efforts to give him a frail smile. “W-well, in that case, you can let me go and we can talk. That’s what a gentlecolt would do.”

He patted her cheek lightly. “Nice try, Sweetness, but it can be hard to catch a dove once she’s been released, and I like you right where you are.” He accented the claim by squeezing her waist against his. There was a hungry look in his eye that sent a shiver down Rarity’s spine.

This was no drifter. If Braeburn wasn’t part of the Bad Apple Gang, Rarity would sell her shop. But if there was anything she knew, it was that outlaws had a few exploitable vices. Keeping her tone firm, she declared, “I will give you everything in the shop safe if you let her go and leave us alone.”

The stallions’ ears perked. They shared a long, silent expression, wicked grins on their lips. After a moment’s consideration, Braeburn pushed Coco away. She didn’t get a chance to flee though, as his friend caught her by the waist before she could take another step.

“Now you have my attention.” Braeburn turned to Rarity, once again possessing that infuriatingly smug smile. “I think we have a deal. Bits and gems first, then we let the girl go and leave you both in peace.”

A slow breath left Rarity. This was going to be easier than she thought. True, the loss to her business would be terrible, not to mention her goals of possibly returning to Mooisville, but what was that compared to the dignity – and perhaps lives – of Coco and herself? “Of course. This way.”

Coco raised a hand towards her. “M-Miss Belle, no. You need that money!”

“Hush now, Coco,” she replied, turning to walk behind the shop counter. “Let me handle this.”

“B-but I…” A brief glance from Rarity stopped her. Coco chewed her lip, but said no more. Her tastelessly clothed captor grinned and petted her mane, making her shiver.

Braeburn followed close behind Rarity. She considered demanding he keep his distance, but guessed it would serve no purpose other than to goad him. She knelt down to a small iron safe nestled just beneath the cash register and began turning the dial. “When Deputy Doodle finds out what’s happened here, he’ll be in a shooting mood. I suggest you leave promptly.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the old timer,” Braeburn said as he hovered over her shoulder. “My other two friends are leading him on a merry little chase as we speak. A distraction to make sure our night is undisturbed.”

What had he been planning to do to them? Perhaps he intended to… No, Rarity refused to consider that. She would give him the money and be done with him. With this thought in mind and ignoring the sickening feeling in her gut, she turned the knob to the last number in the combination and felt the lock click open. With lips pursed, she opened the safe, revealing a large bag. So many bits, accumulated over so many years… It wasn’t everything. Most of her money was in the Bank, as was proper. But still, this collection was supposed to protect her in case something happened to the Bank itself, and it would certainly put her behind.

A whimper from Coco dispelled all doubts, and she reached in with both hands to pull the bag out. Standing, grunting with the weight of the bits and gems, she deposited the bag on the counter and stepped back. “There. Take it and go.”

Braeburn idly kicked the safe closed before opening the bag and peering inside. His lips curled back into that wretched smile. “Piles, old pal? We just hit paydirt.”

“Good to know, Boss.” Piles chuckled even as he held Coco a little more tightly. “And here I thought this night was all about the tail.”

“Me too.” Braeburn rubbed his chin, glancing at Rarity as he did. His smile turned dark. “Still is.”

Rarity blinked, her heart sinking as his words echoed in her ears. “What?”

He closed the bag, tying its drawstring tight. “This is a nice donation you’ve made to the Bad Apples, but we still need our… ‘relaxation.’ ” He turned to her and spread his arms wide. “Come on, show us that generosity I’ve heard so much about.”

She could only stand there, hands clenched into fists and body trembling. “Y-you… You said you would leave us alone. Just take the money and go.”

“Hmm…” He crossed his arms, seeming to consider it for a moment. Then he smirked. “Nah.”

Piles gained a toothy grin. “I can play with her now, right?”

Coco tried to jerk away, put the brute wrapped a hand around her throat and jerked her right back. She yelped and squirmed, but he seemed to have no trouble holding her. She looked to Rarity with wide, glistening eyes. “M-Miss Belle?”

Rarity felt a jagged knife of ice lodge inside her chest. Snarling, she focused her anger upon Piles, her horn shining bright. “You release her this instant, or so help me I’ll—”

Braeburn’s gun flew from its holster, the butt of it impacting the side of her head before she had time to react. Stars erupted in her vision. She shouted and fell back, clutching the injury with both hands and staring down the barrel of his pistol.

All the amusement had left Braeburn’s eyes. He spoke with a force that shoved down whatever bravery she’d been holding onto. “I see that horn glow again and I’ll blow it off your pretty little head.”

She backed away, heart pounding and mind racing. She glanced over the counter to see Piles groping Coco’s thigh as tears streamed down the young mare’s face. Her attention shifted back to Braeburn, who approached at a leisurely pace with the gun still aimed at her. “P-please. Just leave us be.”

“You talk too much.” Braeburn stepped forward so that the barrel of his pistol pressed against the underside of Rarity’s jaw. His smile returned as his eyes drifted up and down her body. “Now, come here and show me that cutie mark.”

Her breathing came in small gasps, but she stepped a little closer. Her dignity and sense of self-preservation screamed at her to fight back, to resist! But what chance did she have? His gun was already aimed, and she couldn’t help Coco if her head was a bloody smear. Her tail tucked between her legs even as he reached out to give her breast a squeeze.

Braeburn’s salacious grin widened. “Nice. Too bad Cayenne’s not here. This would turn her on somethin’ fierce.” The gun lowered. His eyes locked on Rarity’s chest as his free hand fumbled with the top button of her dress.

Rarity’s cheeks burned. To let this indecent ruffian touch her like this… She glanced towards Coco and saw, to her horror, that the mare’s blouse was open, her chest being fondled as Piles drew in a deep breath of her mane. Poor Coco had her eyes tightly closed, her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides as she whispered something unheard from across the shop.

With a soft curse, Braeburn gave up on Rarity’s dress and returned to fondling her, his gun now lowered to his side. “Hey, whorse. Do the honors.”

Taking her gaze off the cruelty of Coco’s situation, Rarity focused her glare on Braeburn once more. His smug smile, his confident, laid back pose… What she wouldn’t do to give his little bits the treatment they deserved! But she sucked up her anger and pride. Coco still needed saving, and there remained one tactic she’d yet to attempt.

As much as the effort sickened her, Rarity forced her lips into a saucy smile of her own. “How about you let her go? You can both take me on, if you think you’re stud enough.”

Braeburn’s eyebrows rose. His smile widened as he pointed his gun languidly at her. “Oh. Oh-ho-ho. So you wanna play the game that way, do you?”

Maintaining her smile, she reached up and began slowly unbuttoning her dress, but stopped after the second button. Leaning forward, she gave him a nice view of her cleavage. “Get rid of the foal. You’ve got me. I can make it good for the both of you. Or—” she tugged her shirt closed and turned sideways from him, her muzzle high but her smile in place “—you keep her around and I play the cold mannequin.”

The fiend studied her haughty look for a moment, as if thinking it over. He never lost that amused expression. Finally, he turned to Piles, who was busy trying to get an unsupportive Coco out of her bra. “You hear that, Piles? She thinks she can play us. Doesn’t know we’ve been around a ponut or two.” He waved his gun at his pal and Coco invitingly. “Let’s take these two upstairs. We’ll double up on the little filly first, just so the lady can watch.”

The ice rushed back to Rarity’s veins in an instant. That had been her last resort! And now Piles was lifting Coco up by the waist and carrying her to the stairs. She squirmed in his grip, muttering quiet cries of “No!” and “Please don’t!” Braeburn holstered his pistol and followed, but not before glancing over his shoulder to give Rarity a smirk.

“No.” Rarity took a step closer. “No, please. Leave her alone!” She tried to grab Braeburn’s shirt, but he shoved her back with little effort and marched behind his partner. “Please, I’ll do anything! Let her go!”

“Oh.” He paused to turn back to her. “And fair warning, if you’re not up there within, say, a minute, we’ll finish quick and put a bullet in her skull.” He looked upon her with eyes like steel and lips set in a hard line. The message was clear: any attempt to escape and warn others would get Coco killed.

The warm smile returned. He went for the stairs. “Do hurry along now, mannequin.”

“But… I… you can’t…” Rarity’s tongue twisted and turned in her mouth, unable to form more than two words at a time. What was she going to do? What was she going to do? These monsters were going to turn Coco into a toy if she didn’t think of something quick! She couldn’t get help, couldn’t hope to fight them. Her money didn’t work, her body didn’t work! “No no no. You… Coco…”

“Rarity?” Coco got to cast one last, wide-eyed, tearful look at her from over Piles’ shoulder before disappearing through the doorway. Only then did she manage to find her voice. “Let me go! No, stop. Rarity!”

The name jolted through Rarity’s heart. She reacted without thinking, her horn shining. She had no idea what she would do with it, though… until her eyes fell upon Braeburn’s holstered gun. The weapon glowed blue and jerked from his hip just before he could stop it, and it flew into Rarity’s waiting hands. Only once she had it in a firm grip did she realize she had no idea what to do with it other than point and hope for the best.

Braeburn glanced at his empty holster, then turned to Rarity. His smile came back in an instant and he huffed a laugh. “And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?”

Spurred on by his manner, Rarity spread her hooves and kept her arms stiff, giving him her best glare. “Get out of my shop. I’ll shoot!”

“Will you? Go ahead.” He raised his arms wide and leaned forward. When Rarity hesitated, he waved both hands in the air. “Go ahead!”

Could she? Rarity had never killed a pony before. She’d never even hurt a pony before! She’d always hated guns. But if she didn’t, Coco would be… and then she’d be next.

But to actually fire at another pony…

Apparently sensing her doubt, Braeburn dropped his arms with an exasperated sigh. He approached, reaching for the weapon. “Give me that thing before you hurt yourself.”

She tried to pull the trigger, but it proved every bit as hard as she’d imagined. She just couldn’t get over the idea of being a murderer. Coco needed this. The law was on her side! Cranky would understand, he’d…

Braeburn grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it down. His other hand reached for Rarity, grabbing her by the loose flap of her shirt and jerking her forward with enough force to pop a few buttons loose. His eyes held a bored quality as his face came close to hers. “Y’know, it’s ponies like you that make it so easy for ponies like me.”

Rarity’s heart sank. She’d failed. In a few moments, she and Coco would be… She closed her eyes as his arms slipped around her waist. She still gripped the pistol, even as he pushed it to the side. His hands groped her buttocks, making her gasp and—

The shot rattled her eardrums and made her jump. The sound acted as a mental sandstorm, washing away all thoughts and concerns as one glaring concept took up the whole of her mind: she’d just shot him. One minute he’d been… and the next… She didn’t even remember pulling the trigger.

Braeburn took a step back. Wide eyed, he looked down to touch at a spot just below his ribs. Blood already stained his shirt. He felt a little higher up, hands twitching sporadically. Rarity’s eyes followed their movement, and then they met one another’s gazes.

And Braeburn smiled. The fact combined with the horror of the moment to keep Rarity from recovering her senses.

“Hey,” he said with only the lightest strain in his voice. “That was a good shot. Really. Top notch.” He then collapsed against the wall, turning as he fell to land in a sitting position. A shuddering breath rattled his body. His hand lightly felt at the wound as if in idle curiosity.

Rarity watched this, then looked at the gun still clutched in her hand. She dropped it as if it were a viper, letting it clunk against the floor. “I… I didn’t…”

His chuckled broke through her brain. He stared straight ahead and muttered, “Y’know, I always thought it’d be Jackie who’d get me.”

She dropped to her knees and reached for the wound, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the blood-soaked shirt. Her hands trembled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just… It just went off. You… Y-you stay still and I’ll… I’ll fix it! That’s right, I’ll fix it.” She grabbed his shirt, intent on pulling it open to see the wound, but he caught her wrists.

“Hey.” He raised her hands up, still possessing that mystifyingly pleasant smile. “You don’t even know what you hit, do you?” He looked her in the eyes. “Ain’t no fixing this, lady.”

“Don’t say that! I, I… Ohhh.” He let go, and she pressed her closed hands to her lips. Her eyes began to burn as comprehension sank in. She was a killer. A killer! She’d killed him. The world spun as the red spread more and more. Something threatened to rise up from her stomach, making her double over.

“Boss? Boss!”

Rarity fought her nausea enough to look up. There stood Piles and Coco, staring at the scene with jaws dropped. The horror in Coco’s eyes sent Rarity’s guts on another spin and she leaned heavily against the shop counter.

“Hey. Piles.” Braeburn spoke casually to his companion. “Look. Little mare had some bite in her after all.” He waved at the front of the shop. “You should get. Somepony will have heard the shot. No point both of us eating dirt.”

Piles went pale. He looked to Braeburn, then to Rarity. He grabbed his gun—

“Don’t.” Braeburn threw his hand up again. “Don’t bother. Just go, Piles. Spread the word. Let the Gang know the Apples have a new bounty.”

Sputtering and shaking, Piles stood dumbfounded with gun in hand but arm hanging limp at his side. He didn’t even react as Coco hurried away from him to kneel by Rarity and rub her back.

“Rarity? Are you okay?”

She couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head and fight to keep her dinner down.

“Go, Piles. Tell Cayenne it’s her posse now.”

That seemed to be enough, because the stallion finally holstered his gun and left the shop at full sprint, his departure emphasized by the gentle chiming of the doorbell.

“It’s okay, Rarity. It’s gonna be okay,” Coco whispered, her attention divided between her boss and the drifter bleeding his life away. Rarity had her elbows on the counter and her head hanging low. She took gradual, extended gasps of breath and paid no attention to the tears running down her cheeks. Things remained like that for some time, with Coco occasionally muttering gentle assurances to her.

Until Braeburn spoke up, his voice rasping and weak. “Hey. Lady.”

It took a moment, but Rarity at last turned her head to look at him from beneath her arm. For Luna’s sake, he was still smiling!

“Your name’s Rarity Belle, right?”

She gave the weakest of nods.

“Yeah. Rarity.” He let his head fall back against the wall. “Stallion should know the name of the pony that did him in. Still can’t believe it wasn’t Jackie.” He coughed, one hand clutching his wound. “I hope you’ve got more shots like those in you. It’d be a real joke if the mare who did me got taken out by the first challenger.”

Coco, still hunched over Rarity, glanced his way. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes drifted to them, but soon returned to staring straight ahead. “Apples look after one another. Bad or not. She did me in. Others will be coming to return the favor.”

Rarity’s alarm was enough to let her muscle past her queasiness and really focus on him. “W-what? You mean more of you will come?”

He chuckled, a weak, scratchy sound. “Oh yeah. My posse. A few of the smaller gangs. The longer you survive, the badder they’ll get.” He pointed at her without looking. “You survive, lady. Braeburn didn’t get offed by some pansy with a little luck. My cousins’ll never l-let me forget it.”

“But I didn’t mean to… to ‘off’ you!” She crawled towards him, focusing her attention on his blood-soaked shirt. “Th-there’s still time. I can do something about this, I know I can.”

He tried to push her hands away, but they lost their strength quickly. He grimaced as she began opening his shirt. “Would you… Would you stop… already? It’s a… a liver. You can’t… c-can’t just put some g-gauze on it.”

The shirt came free and she got her first good look at the wound. She wobbled in place at the sight, groping for some sort of support as the blood poured out of a neat hole just beneath the ribs. Coco caught her arm in a tight grip, steadying her. “Bleeding,” Rarity muttered. “Have to stop the b-bleeding.”

Braeburn moaned, catching her attention. His eyelids hung heavily as he watched her. The smile fought against his visible pain. “You’re real… real pretty, y’know that?”

“Towels.” Rarity looked up to Coco’s face. She seemed so pallid. “Coco. T-towels. Get some towels.”

Coco swallowed audibly, unable to look away from Braeburn’s wound. “Rarity, I d-don’t think he’s—”

“Towels!”

The shout sent the young mare running for the stairs. Rarity sucked down a sharp breath and pressed her hands to the wound, whimpering as blood rapidly coated her pearly fingers. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry! We’ll get you help, w-we’ll stop the bleeding.”

“Real pretty,” Braeburn muttered sleepily. “Moment I… saw ya. Thought it was… was my lucky day. Prettiest mare… this side of…”

Rarity thought she might bite her lip off. She kept pressing her hands to the wound. Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop? Where was Coco? Why had she pulled the trigger? Braeburn was a criminal, but he deserved to be locked up, not… not dead! “Come on, Coco,” she whispered, trying to use her shoulders to wipe her eyes. “C-come on, bring the towels.”

It seemed like an eternity passed. Rarity kept seeing the moment in her head again and again. When had she pulled the trigger? It must have been when he grabbed her. She’d jumped. Why had she jumped? If she’d just had a little more control…

“Rarity?”

Shaking the dark thoughts away, she looked up to see Coco standing at the doorway to the stairs, a pile of towels in her arms. She breathed a sigh of relief; finally, something she could work with! “That’s good, dear. Bring them over and help me.”

Coco didn’t move. She just stared with a deep frown, sadness shining in her eyes.

Rarity tensed. What was she doing? “Coco. Darling. Now. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Rather than approach, Coco squeezed the towels close to her chest. Tears began to run down her still-moist cheeks. “Rarity, h-he…”

“Damn it, Coco! Help me before he dies!”

Her assistant flinched and only held the towels more tightly, a sob breaking out of her throat. With a snarl, Rarity ignited her horn and snatched the towels with such force that Coco jerked forward and fell to her knees. The silly mare, now was not the time for panic!

“Alright, Mr. Apple, don’t you worry. We’ll have you right as sunlight in no… time…” Rarity stared up at Braeburn’s face and felt her breath stolen away. He sat perfectly still, eyes forward and vacant, arms limp. Staring seemed the only thing Rarity could do, her eyes searching for any sign of movement. “Mr. Apple?”

She reached a trembling hand forward, pressing her palm to his chest. Her breath became as still as death as she waited. A second passed. Another.

Braeburn was still.

“No.” She leaned forward, feeling at his body and hyperventilating. “No. No no no. No. You can’t. You can’t! Please, I—” A sob choked her words back as the firm reality of her situation struck. Even then, she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge it, to think it. She collapsed backwards, body shaking in spasms as she sobbed and covered her face with bloody hands. “I d-didn’t mean it. I didn’t m-mean to!”

But she had. She was a murderer, and there was nothing to be done to fix that.

She could only curl into a ball and weep.
> Episode 02: Wanted Mare, Part II
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


26th of Burning Season, 1005 BA


A fragile quiet had settled upon the world. Rarity sat in her lounge chair on the second floor of her home, a cup of lukewarm tea held tightly in her hands. She stared at the beverage in silence, not really seeing it. No, what she saw, over and over again like a terrible dream, was a pony dying on her shop floor, his blood seeping into the wood. She fought down the urge to scrub at her hands, no matter how dirty they felt.

What could she have done differently? A hundred things. A thousand. They swirled around her head like flies, annoying and consuming of all thought and reason.

“It’s not your fault,” they said. “You were well within your right to do it.”

They didn’t understand. She was a murderer. She’d taken the life of another pony, and the blood seemed permanently soaked into her skin. Ponies succumbed to acts of violence every day, but she’d always considered herself above such… such barbarity. Where was her haughty confidence now? Did she have any right to talk down to ponies who lived their lives by the gun?

“Rarity?”

The voice, ever so familiar, drifted into Rarity’s consciousness. Slowly, she looked up. Coco stood close by, hands opening and closing repeatedly at her sides. The young mare couldn’t meet her gaze. “Um, Cranky would like a word.”

Cranky? Ah, right, Cranky Doodle. She wasn’t in the mood to entertain visitors. She merely turned her gaze back to the teacup in her hands.

“I’ll… I’ll just let him up. Okay?”

She pondered denying the suggestion, but couldn’t bring herself to speak. After a moment, Coco left her to her silence. Rarity welcomed this until she realized that Cranky would indeed be coming up soon. Closing her aching eyes, she let the world wash away in darkness for a few precious seconds. There would be no crying. Enough tears had been shed. Now she had to face the consequences of her actions, of becoming a killer.

She’d had an entire night to think on it. They might object, but the more Rarity pondered what she’d learned, the more it made sense to her. Time was of the essence… and yet she couldn’t bring herself to stand.

Like an anchor, Rarity’s body refused any attempts she made at motion. She felt so weary, and not just because she’d spent the entire night awake in her chair thinking about her crime. Still, she couldn’t take time for sleep. If she could just force her body to obey her commands and let her begin, she might be able to avoid any additional bloodshed.

“Miss Belle.”

Rarity yelped, but even that sounded feeble to her ears. Cranky stood a respectable distance away, watching her with a softer expression than she’d ever witnessed on his grizzled face, though that didn’t mean much. He raised an eyebrow as she continued to stare. “You alright?”

Heat built in the back of her mind, coalescing all her pent-up emotions into a tight ball of anxiety. “No, I am not. I’m a murderer now, in case you haven’t noticed. This makes me about as far from ‘alright’ as a mare can possibly be.”

“You’re no murderer.” He leaned against the wall and pulled out an extract stick. He probably didn’t notice her glare, but even so he apparently decided it wasn’t worth it and put the stick back in his pocket. “You had every right to do what you did.”

“And how would you know?” she shot back. “Were you there? Oh, no, you weren’t!”

He scowled at her, and Rarity abruptly realized her own words. She set her fingers to her lips and turned away. “I-I’m sorry. I know you were doing your best. I’m just so stressed right now, I c-can’t…”

With a sigh, he grumbled, “S’alright, Miss. I’m feeling the guilt too. If I hadn’t let those other two distract me this wouldn’t have happened.”

The temptation to acknowledge his guilt was strong, but Rarity resisted. His excuse was perfectly legitimate, and she would not blame him for making what had appeared to be the correct decision at the time. With hands clenched to her armrests, she took a few more calming breaths. “And how are Banter and Sandy?”

“Banter’s fine. Just got grazed. His boy’s a nervous wreck and Night Squash’s flapping around like a spooked desert owl, but they’ll get over it. Lucky the two drifters didn’t stick around or they’d both be eating dirt.”

“Good.” She sagged back into her chair. “That’s good.”

A moment of quiet passed between them. Rarity wondered what he intended, and how he’d react to her new plan. Rubbing her eyes in an attempt to get the sleepiness out, she went over her words. That didn’t get very far, because the implications of her idea settled upon her like a thick blanket of ice. Her shop, her home, her future…

Coco’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Tea, Deputy?”

“Thanks.” Cranky accepted the cup, but didn’t drink. He was too busy watching Rarity with those hawkish eyes.

Coco offered Rarity a fresh cup. When Rarity made no move to take it, she put the tea set down, took the new cup and pushed it into Rarity’s hands. She left the room without another word, taking the old teacup and tray with her.

Another second of quiet passed before Cranky coughed. “I need to tell you a few things about that drifter you shot.”

Rarity groaned and took a sip of the hot tea – then took a longer gulp. She set the cup down, took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye. “He was a Bad Apple.”

Cranky’s face didn’t shift at this statement, merely maintained its gruff neutrality. “Yeah.”

She nodded. “And he told me that… that more of the Apple Gang will come for me now.”

“He told you right.” He raised his teacup, then paused to look at it as if he’d forgotten it was there. His shoulders sank, but only a little, and at last he took a sip. The twisting of his expression led to him promptly putting the cup down on the coffee table. “My apologies to Miss Pommel. Yes, the Gang’s going to come for you. But not just them; the Apple Family proper will be looking into this. They’re also going to want the body.”

That made Rarity blink. “The… the Family itself? But I thought there was no love lost between the Gang and the Family?”

He nodded. “Right, but they’re still blood. And to them, that’s big. You’re a wanted mare, Miss Belle.”

More so than she’d thought, it would seem. This news only forced Rarity to move faster. She cast a slow look around the room, taking in her home of six years. Everything precisely where and how she liked it, the furnishings and paint and décor hand-picked or even made herself. Even the chair she now sat in, easily the most comfortable she’d ever known. The sight of it all made saying her next words feel like needles scraping along her throat.

“I have to leave.”

Now it was Cranky who blinked, which was about as close to ‘surprise’ as his expression offered. “I came to the same conclusion. But it’ll be tricky.”

“I know.” Rarity rose from her seat, brushing her skirt off just to keep the shaking in her hands hidden. She clasped them behind her back. “Braeburn’s posse is still out there, and will no doubt be watching for my departure.”

He studied her, perhaps trying to gauge her composure, though she couldn’t be certain of anything with that eternal glower of his. “The next supply train will be here in four days. You can head out with it. I’ll—”

“No.” Sucking in another deep breath to keep her voice under control, she continued. “If I stay, they may attempt to come for me. I know you and a few others would try to defend me. I can’t let that happen.” She raised her hand to forestall his argument. “I said no. I won’t see anypony in this town harmed because of me. At worst, somepony here may kill one of them, and that’ll put another pony on the Apples’ wanted list. Why, they might even consider razing the town, just like they did Ponyville over a decade ago.”

Cranky stiffened, his hand clenching around but not quite grabbing his revolver. “Seventeen years ago.” He said the words with such certainty that Rarity didn’t doubt his accuracy.

“You see my point.” She turned to face the window with hands on her hips, ensuring he couldn’t see the quiver in her lip. “I… I’ll leave Spurhoof. Find my own way. At least then the Apples will have no reason to do any more harm to this town.”

“It’s suicide,” he groused. “You want to go off on your own? The rest of Braeburn’s little band will be on you in an hour, maybe two. Then what? You wait for the wagon train. At least then you’ll be protected on your way to Mooisville.”

“Mooisville?” Rarity turned to him once more, hoping her face showed her determination and not the frightened pony in the back of her mind. “No. I can’t go back. My family is there, and if I try to go back they may be targeted.” She winced at the sudden realization that she’d probably never see her parents or sister again, but pushed the thought away. There’d be a time later for self-pity. Hopefully. “And I’m not waiting for the caravan.”

He glared at her, but otherwise made no attempt to argue. Rarity met his gaze with a glare of her own, ignoring as best she could her lingering doubts. She knew this was the right course of action, and she wouldn’t let him intimidate her out of it. Granted, it might not work… but better her life than an entire town. She had to do this.

She had to.

Abruptly, Cranky turned and walked to the door. “I’ll be back.”

The sudden motion jarred her thoughts. “W-what? Where are you going?”

He paused at the door to cast a hard frown over his shoulder. “You’re gonna need some things.” He disappeared downstairs without another word.

Not a second later, Coco came running into the room. Rarity had only enough time to brace before the young mare slammed into her with a bone-crushing hug. “Please wait for the wagons!”

Stumbling back, Rarity regained her footing. Her first instinct had been to reprimand the mare for eavesdropping, but the tears spilling down Coco’s cheeks stopped her words short. After a moment’s hesitation, she returned the embrace. “Coco, Darling, please. D-don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”

Coco looked up at her with eyes shimmering wet. “B-but if you leave now those brutes will follow, and then you’ll die!”

“Oh, no.” Rarity hoped her smile was more confident than she felt. “I have absolutely no intention of dying. They can chase my tail all they want. They won’t be the first boys to have tried.”

The attempt at humor failed to soften Coco’s horrified expression. She pressed her head to Rarity’s breast and trembled. “You can’t go, not yet. The ponies here love you, th-they’ll defend you.”

Sighing, Rarity rubbed Coco’s back as she considered her words. “That’s exactly why I need to leave. I can’t let them do that. They used Night Squash’s family to distract Cranky so Braeburn could get to me. They won’t be playing so nicely when they come back. At least if I’m not here then the Apples will have no reason to harm anypony in Spurhoof.”

“But you don’t know that!” Coco stepped back only to grasp Rarity’s hand in both of hers. “They might do it anyway.”

“Which brings me to another topic.” Tightening her grip on Coco’s hand, Rarity leaned a little closer. “You need to go too.”

Her eyes went wide. “Y-you mean you want me to come with you?”

“Oh, heavens, no!” Rarity shook her head frantically. “That’s the least safe thing for you. No, I want you to get on the wagon train when it leaves Spurhoof.”

Coco chewed her lip and looked around them, her ears folding back against her head. “B-but Spurhoof is my home. Where would I go?”

“Mooisville.” Putting her smile back on, Rarity fought down the sting in her chest. “Somepony needs to inform my parents of what’s happened. And they can give you a place to stay, at least until you get back on your hooves.”

“B-but I—”

“I’m also giving you everything in the safe, to take with you on your journey.” Rarity turned away, trying not to think about how cold her hand felt when it left Coco’s. “It will be more than enough to get you there, and keep you going for a while until you can resume your apprenticeship. I’ll write you a recommendation that should be more than enough for any of the clothiers in the city. You’ll go far, my dear, that I can assure you.” She hurried to the desk on the wall, rummaging through the drawers in search of some parchment.

Coco remained silent as she searched. At last a sheet of paper was uncovered, only for Rarity to realize she had no pens. Maintaining her smile, she stood up straight and marched for the stairs… only to pause at the top step. Her gaze lingered on the ground floor. For all the light shining in from the shop floor’s windows, the space below seemed dark. Different. Foreboding.

“Rarity?”

Stiffening her posture, Rarity forced her legs to move. She felt something within, an unpleasant squirming in her guts that grew worse with every step she took. You can do this, Rarity. It’s not like his ghost is going to rise up and drag you into Tartarus with… Bad image. Bad image! She shook her head violently, and when her eyes opened she was at the bottom of the steps. With ears splayed and heart pounding, she made herself peer around the doorway into the storefront.

Everything was exactly as it had been last night. The same clothes, the same signs, the same racks. And yet, it all seemed so horribly different. Her eyes were unable to avoid the spot behind the counter, where the wall and floor still showed the stains of blood despite Coco’s determined cleaning efforts sometime this morning. She could make out Braeburn’s body shape in the form of the stains, could see him sitting there with those vacant eyes.

Standing was all she could do. Her knees wobbled and her mind ran in familiar circles of What have I done? and Why did I do it? She leaned against the doorframe, panting and pressing a hand to her lips to keep the nastiness confined to her mouth.

A gentle hand grasped her shoulder, another her arm. “C’mon,” Coco whispered. “Let’s go back upstairs. We can—”

Rarity jerked away. With a bit more focus she regained her straight-backed posture. Her body trembled, but she stepped into the light of the windows and made her way to the front counter. Every ounce of will went into not looking at the stain on the wall again. At last she reached her destination. Her hands shook with such force that she almost couldn’t lift the pen sitting next to the register. It was only after she turned back around to face the front of her shop that she realized she’d forgotten the sheet of parchment upstairs.

She stared at her empty hand, slowly opening and closing it. “Coco. Be a dear and get me some p-paper, won’t you?”

Coco, still standing in the doorway, took a step closer. “Why don’t you come upstairs with me? There’s no need for you to—”

Rarity’s hands balled into fists. “Get me some paper, Coco. I’m writing you that letter, and I will do it down here.”

Her apprentice – former apprentice, she reminded herself with no small pang – flinched at her tone. Coco wrung her hands for a few seconds, seeming at a loss, but finally went back upstairs.

Leaning back against the counter, Rarity crossed her arms and took slow, even breaths. She bowed her head, letting her mane cover her face. “You can beat this, Rarity,” she whispered. “You won’t run away like a sc-scared filly. Get over it. G-get over it.” She murmured the words again and again, struggling to keep her breathing under control.

Seconds passed. Or was it minutes? She was too focused on not thinking about the stain at her back to know. She wished Coco would hurry, only to curse her own weakness and insist silently that she stay upstairs for even longer. This is – used to be – her home, and she wouldn’t let it get to her just because she’d shot a stallion in it!

Yet the very thought proved treacherous, forcing something up through her stomach. She leaned forward and gagged, a hand over her mouth. With no small amount of effort, she pushed the sensation back down. She was fine. “I’m fine.”

Movement drew her eye to the stairs. Coco stood there, hands behind her back and head bowed, but her eyes met Rarity’s. “Oh, there you are, Darling. Did you get the paper?”

Coco kicked at the ground, suddenly unable to meet Rarity’s eyes. “Is there really no way I can convince you to stay?”

Rarity opened her mouth to respond… and closed it again. What could she say now that hadn’t already been spoken? In her current state, in this place, she wasn’t even sure she would be able to keep her nerve. But backing down wasn’t an option, so she shook her head.

Shoulders sagging, Coco nodded. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she brought her hands forward. What she held made Rarity gasp: a necklace of dull bronze. It sported a single large, pale stone such as Rarity had never seen before, nestled between two plates that resembled clouds. Not very large, the worn, ancient jewelry sported delicate-looking markings to complement the aerial imagery.

Compelled by fascination, curiosity, and a strange desire she didn’t understand, Rarity moved to examine the necklace up close. “Coco… what is this?”

“I’ve had this since I was little,” Coco replied, voice quiet. “My momma gave it to me before she passed away. It always brought me luck.” She smiled and raised the necklace closer to Rarity.

It took a moment for Rarity to realize her intent. She stood up straight and pushed back on the necklace. “Darling, no. I can’t. Isn’t it important to you?”

“You’re going to need it more than me,” Coco replied. She raised the necklace up to Rarity once more.

“B-but, I can’t possibly…” Her words stilled as she stared into that strange white stone. Why do I feel like it belongs to me already? She shook her head forcefully and stepped back. “No. I won’t let you sacrifice something so precious.”

Coco’s smile didn’t budge, and she countered Rarity’s retreat by stepping closer. “You’re a hundred times more precious. You’re sacrificing everything for this town, for me. This is nothing in comparison.”

The wetness in her gaze revealed the lie for what it was, but also gave Rarity pause. She couldn’t deny that this gesture was touching, and as much as she fought the idea, she really wanted that necklace. It seemed like such a frivolous thing to think about now, but… “I… I suppose…”

As quiet as the doorbell was, it seemed like a gunshot in Rarity’s ears. She jumped and turned to find Cranky standing in her doorway, a large wooden case in his hands. Before she could respond to his sudden presence, Coco shoved the necklace into her arms and ran upstairs, the heart-wrenching sound of sobs following in her wake.

Rarity watched her go, clutching the necklace to her chest and feeling strangely guilty. She bowed her head and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry, Coco.” She didn’t know what she was sorry for, but she said it with sincerity.

“You’re going to need more than some fancy neckwear to keep you alive out there, Miss Belle,” Cranky groused as he approached. He paused a few feet away and sighed. “Sorry if I interrupted.”

Stifling a sniff of her own, Rarity brushed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s okay, Deputy. W-what’s in the box?”

He patted the top gently, as if the box and its contents were fragile. “A friend left this with me years back. She told me to give it to somepony who could really use it. Can’t think of a more qualified pony than you.” He stepped past to set the box down on the counter before opening it and turning it to her. The sight made Rarity back up a quick step.

It was a revolver, but not a traditional revolver like his. The metal gleamed bright silver, the handle crafted of solid wood that had been dyed a midnight blue. The cylinder featured a strange set of small mechanisms she didn’t recognize, and four more cylinders lay alongside the gun in addition to the one already in it. She noted with no small curiosity that each cylinder held only five rounds instead of six. Emblazoned in silver letters on the handle were the words Silver Lining.

She had intended to reject his offer, but upon seeing the words her rejection was forgotten in favor of something else entirely. “I recognize that name,” she whispered. “That’s not… the Silver Lining, is it?”

He nodded. “Don’t ask how I came by it. That’s private.”

“B-But that gun belonged to the Shrouding Midnight.” Rarity took another step back, holding Coco’s necklace close. “It’s a legend in its own right! Cranky, how did you—” Her mouth closed so fast her teeth clicked when she caught the heat of his eyes. “Right. Private. S-sorry.” She looked to the gun, then to him. “You… no. Cranky, no!”

“You got a real problem with the word ‘yes,’ haven’t ya?” He reached into the box, pulling out the soft casing that held the gun and revealing a second compartment, which held a belt holster. “You’re about to do something crazy and stupid. If you think I’m going to let you do it without having some means of defending yourself, you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Rarity stared at Silver Lining, heart thundering in her chest. The sound of a gunshot lingered in her ears, and the faint memory of blood haunted her fingertips. “I… I d-don’t know if I c-can…”

He pulled the revolver from the case and, holding it by the barrel, offered it to her. “You have to. If you can’t, then you’ll be dead by sunrise tomorrow. Take it.”

He was right. She knew he was right. She had no choice. If she wanted to live, to see this through to the best possible ending, she had to. But to actually use a gun, to make a serious attempt on another pony’s life…

But what about her life? When it came to her or them, she certainly didn’t want to guarantee that it would be her. The violence and blood seemed so vulgar and horrid. Such things had always been beneath her, a lady of class and sophistication. To go around carrying a gun like some brutish, roughhousing…!

She turned her eyes away, only to find herself gazing upon the stain on her wall. The sight shoved a wedge of ice down into her chest, and for a time that blot was her entire world. A darkness, where once there’d been pure white. Was that what she would become if she accepted Cranky’s gift? Would she be less if she didn’t?

A gun had saved her life, and Coco’s. A gun. Not her money, not her looks, not her wits. For the first time in her life, Rarity understood that some things could only be settled one way. With eyes downcast, she took Silver Lining’s handle in both hands. The gun was lighter than she’d anticipated.

The world already felt darker.





Blue jeans. Rarity had never imagined she’d be wearing such things, but here she was, out in the hot sun behind the sheriff’s office with Cranky. Not once had she worn any of the working clothes she’d designed for her shop, having always preferred her more magnificent dress designs. Practicality had won out, however; even she knew going out in the desert alone in a dress was idiotic. Still, Rarity never designed clothes without an eye for style, and she could at least be satisfied that she could even make common jeans and a white blouse look fashionable.

Of course, the jeans also went better with Silver Lining’s holster, which she now wore. The thing was dreadfully uncomfortable and she longed to work her magic on it, but there simply wasn’t time. Instead, she found herself staring down the revolver’s sights at a wooden target, her hands shaking and sweat beading on her brow.

Cranky’s gravelly voice interrupted her distracting musings. “You look like you’re trying to choke the gun.”

Cringing, she tried to relax her grip. The shaking in her hands lessened, but wouldn’t go away. She took deep breaths, trying not to think about the sun beating on her back, or the way strands of her mane tickled her nose, or the dreadful anticipation of the gunshot. The sound rang in her ears again and again, though she had yet to pull the trigger. She swore she could see red in the corner of her vision. Was the handle sticky? It was sweat.

Just sweat.

“Relax,” Cranky said, his voice a whisper. “Don’t think about it. Just look and pull.”

Rarity swallowed the lump in her throat and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. Was she simply not pressing hard—?

She closed her eyes against the cracking retort, almost dropping Silver Lining in her surprise. She opened them immediately after, gaping at the weapon now lowered towards the ground. A shock ran through her, making her heart pound, but the sensation faded slowly once she realized that, of course, nopony had been harmed. She looked to Cranky and received a near equal shock to see something that might have been a smile on his face.

“There. Not so bad, right?” He gestured to the gun. “Again. Try not to close your eyes this time.”

Easy for him to say! Pursing her lips, Rarity lifted Silver Lining once more and focused on her aim. Not on how she was practicing to kill ponies, or the explosive shot that would be far too loud, or the way these jeans made her feel more naked than clothed, or how miserable Coco had looked when she—

Another shot, another blink. This time the kick of the gun made her take a step back. She sighed and shook her head. “I d-don’t know about this. I’m probably missing. Badly.”

“We don’t check your aim ‘till you’ve emptied the cylinder,” he replied sharply. He reached into his vest and pulled out a canteen. “You blink again and I’ll pour some of this on your head.”

“You wouldn’t.” Yet when she tried to stare him down, she found nothing but an expression of stone. “O-oh dear. You would, wouldn’t you?”

He popped the top, took a small sip. “Again.”

Resisting the urge to chew her lip, she leveled Silver Lining once more. What did he have in that canteen, anyway? Probably just water. That wouldn’t be so bad. No worse than her own sweat, which was starting to become distracting, but she did her best to ignore it; it wasn’t as if she’d have regular baths out in the desert. By the Night Mother, but that was a terrible thought!

Focus, Rarity. She narrowed her eyes and fought against her wobbling hands. Focus. You’ve got to learn this. A few hours is hardly enough time, so make use of it while you can.

Her concentration and determination settled, she clenched her teeth and concentrated on the target. She wouldn’t rush. Take a breath, as Cranky had taught her, hold it, and…

Silver Lining kicked, and this time she thought she saw the flash of the barrel. There was a moment’s pause. She’d done it. She’d fired without blinking. With a long exhale, she allowed herself the slightest of smiles. Perhaps I can learn to do this after all.

Another thought, far more bitter, came to her: Yes, be proud, Rarity. You’re learning how to kill ponies. Such lofty goals. She almost threw the gun away, but instead forced her grip to tighten.

“Two more shots,” Cranky said. “Go on.”

They passed far more quickly, and Rarity was both proud she didn’t blink and disgusted at her pride in such a thing. The gun emptied, she raised it to her shoulder and turned to him. “Now let’s see how badly I missed.”

“Not so fast.” He patted his hip. “Let’s see you replace the cylinder.”

She scowled, but had to admit it would be an important task. She reached down to her gun belt, on which was a small pouch that held the other four of Silver Lining’s cylinders. Fumbling with the buttons holding the pouch closed, she started to set her gun aside to use both hands.

The motion was stopped by Cranky grabbing her wrist. “No. One hand. You gotta learn to do this fast and in a gunfight.”

Rarity tried to pull her arm away, but he held it in a firm grip. Sniffing, she glared at him. “That doesn’t sound plausible.”

If anything, his grip tightened. “You’ll make it plausible if you wanna live past your next fight.”

Grinding her teeth, she refocused her attention on the pouch. It took a lot of fumbling, but at last the buttons snapped loose. She looked to the gun in her hand, then at Cranky. “And how am I supposed to reload if you’re holding me like that?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a horn, don’t you?”

Heat rose in her cheeks. She found herself unable to meet his gaze for a moment. The truth was that she hadn’t wanted to use her horn to handle the gun at all. Her hands were one thing. Somehow, handling Silver Lining with her magic seemed like inviting a pollution into her soul.

And so she hesitated, and hesitated some more. And then… she hesitated even more. Her innards churned as she considered the action, but at last she enveloped the weapon in her aura. It floated from her hand into the air, and with but a little extra focus she had flipped the small lever that locked the cylinder into place. It popped out easily enough, and she used her free hand to slide a new one in. It was almost disturbingly easy, like sharpening a knife before butchering some innocent pig. The nearly inaudible click of the lever falling back into place might as well have been the poor creature’s last, ineffectual kick.

Cranky had been watching her face with a peering gaze. He sighed and let go of her wrist. “You weren’t made for this, Miss Belle. You shouldn’t be going out there.”

Carefully setting the gun to its holster, she found she couldn’t meet his eyes. “I won’t let you talk me out of this.”

“Won’t you at least let me escort you or something?”

He tried to maintain his typically hard expression, but for the first time since she’d known him, it cracked. It was only a fleeting thing, repaired as soon as it occurred, but Rarity didn’t miss it: the worry in his eyes. The sight pushed daggers into her heart. Everypony knew Cranky cared about the citizens of this town, but for him to finally show it? She couldn’t imagine what must be going through his mind.

But she beat back her compulsions and looked away. “And how far would you take me? When would you be satisfied? At what point would you decide that it’s safe for me to go it alone? No, Cranky. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your offer, but you joining me would go against the entire reason I’m leaving. This town needs you.”

“More than you do? I can’t defend a whole town.” He set his hands to his hips and glared at the ground. “Now’s not the time to be selfless.”

“There’s never been a better time,” Rarity countered. What did he want her to do, admit to being scared? Surely she didn’t have to. If only he knew how desperately she wanted him to come. Yet she refused herself this one comfort. “What makes me any more deserving of your help than Coco, or Crème Brûlée, or Mr. Gold?”

He stared at her for a moment as if she were speaking in Prench, lips settled in a deep frown. She crossed her arms and returned his gaze, determined not to budge.

Cranky closed his eyes and rubbed his temple with his thumb and forefinger. “By the stars, you two are so alike.”

She blinked. “Us two?”

“The Shrouding Midnight and you.”

He turned to approach the target, leaving her in a state of mild shock. Absentmindedly, she pulled Silver Lining from its holster and studied the weapon. It shimmered in the sunlight as if it were newly crafted. As disturbing as it was, she had to admit that the weapon felt comfortable in her hand. Had the Shrouding Midnight entertained doubts like hers? The legendary drifter, sixth member of the Rainbow Gang. It was hard to imagine that such a deadly gunfighter would share the same displeasure of killing as her.

“Sweet Sisters!”

“What?” Rarity looked up. Cranky was kneeling before the target, rubbing his hand along the surface of it. At the sight, her stomach twisted into knots. “Oh, please tell me I at least hit once.”

“Once? You hit ‘em all!”

“What?” she blurted a second time. She hurried to him, shoving the gun into its holster as she did. He stepped aside and pointed to five neat bullet holes, all within the two smallest circles of the target. One was a bullseye. She gaped at the sight, incapable of forming words.

Cranky peered at her. “You sure you’ve never used a gun before last night?”





The sun barely peeked over the hills to the west. Rarity stood under the awning of the most eastward building in the town, her heart thudding against her chest as she watched the celestial orb descend. When the last of its light faded, she would be on her way. If only she could be certain she’d see it again.

She’d toured the town. Said her goodbyes. Some ponies cried for her. A few wanted to offer her gifts, but she politely turned down half of them; she didn’t have an enchanted Featherweight pack, and it wouldn’t do to weigh herself down. Even so, the outpouring of affection the citizens of little Spurhoof showed her had almost brought her to tears. Six years… It almost felt as though she were leaving home all over again.

Would she even have a home after tonight?

She would be a drifter, at least for a while. She’d always looked down on them. Rubes, ruffians, uncultured and uncouth swine. Now she’d be out there with them. Could a diamond become a rock? She dearly hoped not. She shifted the backpack donated to her by Hammerhead, the town blacksmith. It had many of the necessities; enough food for a couple weeks if she was conservative, water for twice as long, and a small collection of gemstones Mr. Gold had generously donated to her – without deducting it from her account. Tied to it was a bedroll gifted to her by the Squash family, and there were a handful of other small items and tools she’d have never thought of but others had eagerly provided.

Spurhoof had given her a warm welcome, but its goodbye was more so. And to think, it would all go to waste if she didn’t survive the night.

This in mind, she wrapped her fingers around Silver Lining, rubbing at a tiny nub she’d noticed during practice. Cranky had given her more rounds than she imagined she’d ever need. The weapon could hardly be called ‘her’ gun. Once she found a place to settle, she’d put it away and hopefully never have to look at it again. Then again, it was a work of art, wasn’t it? Like any painting or tapestry, only more practical. More… lethal. Perhaps it would be better to donate it to a museum. She idly wondered what the Shrouding Midnight would have wanted.

Being so wrapped up in her thoughts, Rarity didn’t notice the approaching sand lizard until it was almost in her face. When awareness did dawn upon her, she barely managed to avoid a yelp. The amber-coated creature sniffed at her, then bumped her shoulder with its snout. She couldn’t resist a grin, and promptly reached up to rub its neck with both hands. “Piecazzo. Come to see me off?”

Cranky stepped up from the creature’s side, its reins in hand. “Not exactly.”

Coco appeared from the other side of Piecazzo. “H-hey, Miss Belle.”

“You two…” Rarity sighed, but couldn’t resist a smile. “I was supposed to disappear into the night. You know, like in all the romance novels, with nopony having seen me fade into the sunset?”

“No, you’re supposed to wait for the caravan.” Coco’s hands wandered about her skirt as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “B-but you’re going to be stubborn, so I guess I have to stand here and watch you leave. It’s not fair.”

Cranky’s scowl seemed to have grown deeper since last Rarity had seen him, if such a thing were possible. “I’ve half a mind to tie you up and throw you in the jailhouse until the wagon train shows up. Why do city mares all have to be so difficult?”

He likely had no idea how his comment brought forth the terrible realization she’d never achieve such a status as ‘city girl’ ever again. Manehattan was well known to be where the Apple Family managed the business end of its existence, and she’d likely never get to return to Mooisville now. Then again, there was Seaddle or Hoofington, but could she really risk going to such places? No, her dreams of landing among the cultured elite were gone, and the realization struck her like a hammer and left her reeling.

Coco took a step forward, reaching up as if to steady her former boss. “Are you okay?”

Rarity batted her hand away gently. “I’ll be fine, Darling. J-just fine.” It was only a lifelong dream. She’d get over it.

Maybe. Someday.

If Cranky thought anything of her moment of weakness, he gave no indication of it. “Any clue where you’re gonna to go?”

“South,” she replied quickly. “Maybe they won’t expect it.”

“Hmm…” He scratched his chin, gaze going to the sunset. “Lots of empty land down there. Great Salt Plains, the Dragon’s Teeth, the Scorched Plains. Whole lot of nothing.”

“M-maybe you could go to Mareami.” Coco’s face scrunched up as she said the name. “Not the most pleasant place to live, or so they say.”

“Which may make it the best place for me, but I don’t know.” In truth, Rarity already knew exactly where she intended to go. She would say nothing more on the matter, however; the less they knew, the less reason for the Bad Apple Gang to squeeze them for information.

Seeking to divert the conversation away from herself, she gave Coco a smile. “And what about you? I trust you’ll be heading to Moosiville at the first opportunity.”

The young mare’s face twisted into an expression of anguish. “But I don’t want to leave! To abandon the shop – your shop? It’s like… like throwing away all your hard work.”

With a groan, Rarity turned to Cranky. “You have my permission to hogtie her and store her on the wagons as cargo.”

“W-what?”

The corner of Cranky’s lip might have twitched upwards, but she could have imagined it. “So I can force her but not you?”

“Exactly.” She couldn’t resist a smirk at Coco’s expense as the mare sputtered, her face as red as the ever-looming sunset. Rarity had minutes at most. Closing her eyes, she took a few slow, deep breaths. “I… I guess this is goodbye.”

“Not yet it ain’t. Here.” She felt Cranky shove something in her hands, something with the texture of leather. Blinking her eyes open, she looked down and gasped at the sight of reins. Slowly, she followed them up to Piecazzo’s bridle. The massive lizard cocked his head at her, as if he found the sight of the reins in her hands strange.

“Stop!” Cranky’s finger was in her face before she could open her mouth. “Once. Just once, say ‘yes.’”

She stammered, eyes shifting frantically from the reins to the lizard to Coco to Cranky. “But… But you’ve been riding Piecazzo since the day we met. Six years, Cranky.”

“Nine, actually.” He reached up to scratch under one of Piecazzo’s frills. The Dust Devil tilted his head towards the motion, eyelids half-closing as it trilled. “He’s not the fastest out there, but he’s better than moving on hoof. Besides, he’ll mope when he finds out you’ve gone.” He looked to her with the same stoic manner as always. “You know how to ride, right?”

Clutching the reins to her chest, she gave the tiniest of nods. “Y-yes. But Cranky, you’ve already given me Silver Lining and… and taught me how to shoot and I just can’t take Piecazzo from you too.”

Coco stepped forward and set a hand to Rarity’s shoulder. “The outlaws out there have sand lizards too. You’ll need one if you don’t want to be run down the moment you’re out of sight of Spurhoof.”

Chewing her lip, Rarity bowed her head. What Coco said was most certainly true. Yet there had to be a dozen lizards in town she could have used for this purpose. Why Cranky’s? Generosity was one thing, but this…

Piecazzo gently bumped her head with his snout, trilling softly. She didn’t respond, so he did it again before resting his chin on her shoulder, just heavy enough to be impossible to ignore. Sighing, she rubbed the ridge of his snout. “You’re not helping, Piecazzo,” she grumbled. The lizard snorted. She likened the sound to a laugh.

Cranky stepped back and crossed his arms. “Come on, just take him. You need him more than I do.”

Was it just her, or was there a bit of moisture in his eyes? Rarity decided not to address the topic out loud, instead focusing on petting Piecazzo. She cast a glance at Coco. “Please tell me you didn’t come out here intending to give me something as well.”

“Oh!” Coco shook her head as her cheeks glowed. “N-no, I just wanted to see you off. And…” She put her hands behind her back and stared at the ground. “And to thank you. Y’know, for teaching me, and letting me stay, a-and just being the best teacher a mare could hope for.”

That brought a smile to Rarity’s lips. “And thank you for being a wonderful student. I have every faith in you. I wouldn’t have given you a third of my worth otherwise.”

Coco’s head shot up, eyes as wide as saucers. “A th-third?”

She nodded. “Go be a fashionista, Coco. It’s what you were born to do.”

Tears were already streaming down Coco’s cheeks. Her mouth opened and closed over and over again, and Rarity wasn’t sure if she intended to hug her or argue with her. At last she chose the former, jumping forward to engulf Rarity in a breathtaking embrace. “I’ll m-make you proud, Miss Belle. It won’t go to waste, I p-promise.”

Rarity returned the hug, her smile making her cheeks ache and her heart feeling about ready to burst. “So you’ll go to Mooisville?” The young mare nodded against her shoulder. “Good. I’d worry about you otherwise.”

They remained that way for some time. Rarity took comfort in Coco’s presence, dreading the coming separation. Was this the last moment of companionship she’d ever know? She might spend the rest of her days wandering. No friends, only enemies. What a terrible thought. She squeezed Coco a little tighter, wishing for the moment to last forever.

And then the last light of day faded. Fighting back the burning in her eyes, Rarity forced herself to back away. Her movements were stiff, as if her very body disapproved of their separation. “I… I need to go.”

Coco stared at her, sniffling and trying to maintain eye contact. It didn’t last. She turned and pressed her face into Cranky’s shoulder, sobbing quietly. Cranky’s eyebrows rose, and he gave Rarity an uncharacteristically befuddled look before carefully raising a hand up to pat the young mare’s shoulder. Coco only pressed harder against him, which in turn made him appear even more lost.

The sight might have amused Rarity were it not for the ordeal before her. She looked to him with what she hoped was a firm expression. “You’ll keep her safe, won’t you?”

The uncertainty disappeared in an instant. He nodded solemnly. “You have my word. By Luna’s stars.”

She heaved a relieved sigh, only to glance up at Piecazzo. “And… you’re sure about him?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Would you just go already, before I really do tie you up and make you wait for the wagons?”

“Well, all right.” Walking along Piecazzo’s side, she carefully set her newly booted hoof into the stirrup. Climbing onto the beast clumsily, she wondered if she shouldn’t have taken a few riding lessons along with her shooting ones. She might have known the basics, but it had been years since she’d been on the back of a sand lizard, and then only for recreation. Once properly settled, she looked at the town. It was quiet and unassuming, seemingly deserted in the night.

Her heart felt so heavy. She wondered if it might be burdening Piecazzo. If so, the Dust Devil took it like a champion. He tilted his head back to eye her, as if in judgement of the pony now riding him.

It seemed like something else should be said. Rarity looked to Cranky and Coco, the latter peeking up at her from the former’s shoulder, and opened her mouth. A moment passed, but nothing would come. The burning ache in her heart threatened to bring back that same burn to her eyes, but she just couldn’t voice her feelings on the matter. In the end, she settled for a quiet “Goodbye” before lightly whipping the reins.

As Piecazzo settled into a slow walk, Cranky let Coco go and stepped forward. “You expect to get away like that? H’ya!” He smacked Piecazzo’s flank and the beast promptly broke into a sprint, Rarity yelping and gripping the saddle horn for dear life. She wanted to scream some unladylike profanity at him. Only a fear of biting her tongue kept her from doing so.

For not being the ‘fastest out there,’ Piecazzo made incredible time. It seemed like only seconds passed before Rarity found herself in the barren, rocky hills that surrounded Spurhoof. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see the small town disappear behind the last rise. It hardly seemed like she’d travelled that far.

She let Piecazzo run for a while, mostly because the unexpected thrill of the ride kept her from thinking about other things. If she thought, she would begin second-guessing herself, and she couldn’t afford to do that. Instead, she concentrated on staying centered atop her new steed as he weaved about boulders and over small hills, gradually recalling the rides she’d taken as a child when her father brought her to a friend’s ranch. She found it easy to recall, and each jarring motion reminded her of the little things required to smooth out the ride.

But she couldn’t run Piecazzo like this forever, and after an indeterminate amount of time she tugged on the reins to slow him down. Piecazzo breathed heavily, steam billowing from his nostrils as he dropped to an easy canter. Rarity leaned down to rub his neck, feeling the heat radiating from his scaled body.

“I guess it’s just you and me now. I suppose a lady with a noble steed could be in fashion.”

Piecazzo merely snorted and continued walking.

She sniffed in turn and raised her muzzle. “Well, you never know, it could be that way.”

The moon shone brightly, waxing but close enough to full to provide her with plenty to see by. She quietly thanked Princess Luna for the blessing this night. If she did have to travel out here… alone… then she’d prefer to be able to see. See…

A sinking sensation filled her, and she began glancing about warily. If she could see, so could anypony else. Perhaps it would be best to avoid casual chatter for now, even if it did make things seem drearily lonesome. Normally she and Coco would be sitting down in the lounge right about now, ready to talk about their respective days.

Her ears folded back. No good thinking about things like that, Rarity. What’s done is done. Coco will just have to find somepony else to entertain her at night. And herself? She eyed the frills on the back of Piecazzo’s head and neck. Not much conversation to be had there.

She tried not to think. About Coco or Cranky or her lounge chair or her dresses or the shop or… or her bed. That last one brought a long yawn to her lips, and she realized she was sagging in a most unladylike pose. Only now did she take note of how little sleep she’d had since she’d shot…

Braeburn.

Don’t think about it, Rarity.

She made every effort she could to force him from her mind, provided that effort made as little noise as possible. That little self-stipulation proved her doom. With no means of distracting herself, she inevitably ran circles back to her horrid deed last night. Her weariness didn’t help matters.

Falling asleep wasn’t an option. Braeburn’s posse was still out there, and she couldn’t assume they were just watching the town. They could be seeking her out. Perhaps they saw her leave Spurhoof. She had to get as far away from the town as possible before taking her rest. She reached back, intent on grabbing some water. Perhaps if she splashed her eyes with just a little—

She heard a zip. An instant later, it was followed by a bang. It took only a second to recognize what the combination meant, and another for her to crack the reins. “Go, go, go!”

Piecazzo lurched into another sprint, and Rarity barely managed to hold on. Another zip and bang filled her ears. She looked back to see three riders charging down a nearby hill, the shots from their sidearms creating bright flashes in the night.

Her breath found a wall in her throat as she raced over the next hill and into a valley, the gun-toting outlaws not far behind. This was all wrong! They weren’t supposed to find her so quickly. Yes, they were going to find her, but now? She was hardly prepared! She ducked on instinct as a few more cracks of gunfire filled her ears.

“By the Sisters, Piecazzo, what do I do?” She leaned forward over her steed’s back, barely remembering the proper position for riding at speed.

Her pursuers whooped and laughed, the sound just audible over the rush of wind. Rarity ground her teeth, unable to think about much aside from how she didn’t want to die. No attempt was made to guide Piecazzo, and the Dust Devil chose his path purely on instinct. Rarity was, in every sense of the phrase, along for the ride. Her body weaved along with his sudden movements, fighting to stay over the center of the saddle as more shots rang through the night.

“Hey, dollface!”

Rarity looked to her left in time to see a white earth pony riding alongside her on a reddish-brown Dust Devil of his own. He grinned as he aimed a rifle at her, resting the barrel on his arm to keep it steady.

Ice filled her every vein as Rarity jerked back on the reins, forcing Piecazzo to slow just as a deafening blast erupted from the rifle. The stallion cursed and zoomed ahead, but Rarity had no time to relax as more shots came from behind her. She whipped Piecazzo into motion, steering him left to hurry up a hill. She could only pray the new path would confuse the stallion now ahead of her.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of her other attackers, she looked left and screamed as a light-pink mare – another earth pony – charged from terrifyingly close! The mare had a very different type of lizard, one with a longer snout, thinner frills, and leathery wings. She grinned like a pony possessed, eyes alight with what Rarity could only consider disturbing amounts of joy as her mount leapt, reaching forward with wicked talons that looked as though they could rip Piecazzo to shreds.

The claws flashed in the moonlight as Rarity ducked, and she swore she felt the wind of them passing overhead. The beast landed atop Piecazzo’s back haunches, but the impact only made him slide sideways a little before he was back at full speed and slipping over the crest of the hill. Rarity glanced back, her heart beating a hole in her chest.

She’s got a Leaper. Luna help us! More shots rang out, but they descended to the other side of the hill before any bullets could reach their mark.

It was only then that Rarity remembered Silver Lining. All self-righteous arguments disappeared from her mind as she reached down to tug on the weapon, but it refused to budge. “Oh, come on!” The Bad Apples were already cresting the hill and she was having a wardrobe malfunction?

It took precious seconds and several more tugs before she remembered the safety strap on the gun. She snapped it open and jerked the gun out just as the third member of the posse pulled up on her right.

Tacky overalls, ugly beard. Piles. He trained his pistol on her, eyes alight with his fury. “This is for the boss, you—”

It all happened so fast, and yet so slowly. No time to aim, no time to consider her actions. Rarity just pointed Silver Lining and pulled the trigger. Piles’ sneer, a moment ago oh-so clear in the moonlight, became a glistening splash of red. His gun jerked aside and fired, the flash a blinding glare that illuminated him as he tumbled backwards off his steed. Rarity barely registered Piecazzo’s hiss, her wide eyes set upon the now empty back of the grey sand lizard Piles had been riding.

Had been.

Oh, Celestia, I’ve done it again.

The spell ended with a scream that wasn’t her own and more gunshots from behind. Fighting the burning tears in her eyes, Rarity forced herself to face forward and whipped the reins, prompting Piecazzo to pick up speed. “I’m sorry. Oh, Sisters, I’m sorry!”

As they sprinted through another valley, Rarity blinked the tears away and forced herself to look back. The white stallion was trailing. No sign of the mare and her Leaper. That was fine by her. She’d rather deal with one than—

The scream smashed into her thoughts and forced her to look up. All she saw were talons and scales as the Leaper launched from the slope of a nearby hill, its wings spreading wide and its deadly claws outstretched once more. With time only to react, Rarity aimed with no hope of escaping this time. Silver Lining fired once. There came another splash of blood on the creature’s wing, but it was too little and far too late. Rarity braced herself to meet those claws.

Then, in a display of agility she never would have expected from a creature of such size, Piecazzo jerked sideways to slide across the earth. He slowed down just enough for the Leaper to land harmlessly ahead of them before the two lizards smashed into one another. Rarity and the pink mare had enough time to gape at one another in mutual shock before Piecazzo bit down on the Leaper’s neck with an audible crunch.

“No!” The mare aimed a shotgun for Piecazzo’s head.

Once more, Rarity reacted, leaping off Piecazzo and slamming directly into the mare. The two tumbled off the thrashing lizards and crashed into the ground with enough force that Rarity’s breath whooshed from her lungs. Gasping and cradling her stomach, she barely noticed how she’d lost Silver Lining in the motion. In a strange moment of breathless clarity, she realized it might have been better to open fire on the mare instead of resorting to her nonexistent brute strength.

Something grabbed Rarity by the shoulder. Unable to resist in her breathless state, she allowed herself to be rolled over. She looked up at the pink mare, whose teeth were bared in a snarl. She stood up, shotgun aimed at the ground, and glared venom at Rarity for a few seconds. “You killed my Brady.”

She cocked her weapon.

“You killed Piles.”

The barrel of the shotgun pressed against Rarity’s forehead. She tried to speak, to move, to do anything!

“I should make this slow,” the mare hissed. “But I’d rather just kill you and be done with it.”

This was it. She’d not been gone an hour, and already Rarity was going to die. The thought left her feeling… empty. There was so much she’d wanted to do. She’d wasted Coco’s faith, Cranky’s gifts, an entire town’s blessings. She could have been in Moosiville all this time, enjoying the company of her parents and sister. But no, she’d had to make a name for herself in the big city, and now…

What a waste of a life.

The hit came with such speed that Rarity yelped, anticipating pain. The mare disappeared in a flash of scales, her shotgun sent flying. It took a couple seconds for Rarity to realize that she was not, in fact, dead.

She jerked into a sitting position, gaping at the sight of Piecazzo and the Leaper locked in deadly combat. Horrible gashes seeped blood from Piecazzo’s sides and back, but the Leaper appeared to be faring little better as bite marks covered its shoulders and neck. Even as Rarity watched, the slightly smaller Dust Devil capitalized on a missed swipe of the creature’s claws to bite at its throat.

The two beasts rocked back and forth before tumbling towards her, and Rarity scrambled to get out of the way lest she be crushed. She tripped and fell to her hands and knees, gasping and sobbing at the combined relief of escaping death and the awareness that her life was still very much in jeopardy. She crawled away, searching frantically for Silver Lining. “What was I thinking? What was I thinking? Oh, Luna, what was I thinking?”

She came upon a leg lying lifeless in the dirt. Breath catching in her throat, she slowly followed it up. There lay the mare, seated where she’d landed amongst the rocks at the foot of a hill. Rarity stared, paralyzed, watching for any sign of life. When she at last noticed the mare’s chest rising and falling, she let out a strangled gasp; only unconscious. At least one pony wouldn’t die tonight because of her.

She turned away, eyes scanning the hills, and paused. Silver Lining lay in the dirt close to where the two lizards continued their battle. Her first thought was to run to it. Her second was a reminder that if she got too close to Piecazzo and the Leaper she’d probably get killed by proximity. But if she didn’t, and Piecazzo was killed—

The ground at her hooves cracked and dust flew high. Rarity spun to find the last Bad Apple, the white stallion, riding his dust devil in a charge directly for her, rifle cracking shots as fast as he could reload rounds.

Cursing under her breath, Rarity took the only option that might give her a chance to survive and ran for Silver Lining with all the energy she had left. Piecazzo and his opponent danced around one another, a blur of claws and teeth and scales, kicking up so much dust that the area around them became shrouded. Legs pumping, heart throbbing, lungs burning, Rarity charged through the storm of sand. She could hear the lizards’ frenzied hissing, loud like steam from a boiler, but wasted no time looking to the fight. If she didn’t keep her attention focused on the gun, she might lose it in the dust cloud.

More shots fired as she leapt, landing atop the gun and snatching it up. With not a second to lose, she climbed back to her hooves and resumed running, desperate to get away from the warring beasts before she became collateral damage. She glanced to her right in time to see a tail slicing through the air low to the ground. She leapt, but not fast enough to keep it from clipping her boots. The impact made her go horizontal and she hit the ground hard.
 
Pain lanced up her side, but Rarity’s adrenaline was pumping and her mind too frantic to worry about the damage. She forced herself to stand on tired legs and turned to the embattled sand lizards, intent upon finishing Piecazzo’s fight… somehow. But as she took in the carnage, the blur of claws and teeth and blood, she realized she couldn’t trust herself to take a shot. The risk of hitting Piecazzo was just too high. She aimed Silver Lining regardless, struggling to see through the dust. “Come on… come on… Please, Piecazz—oh!”

The white stallion appeared on the hillside behind the battle, riding his own sand lizard wide around the two combatants. He finished loading his rifle and took aim her way.

Cursing, Rarity broke into a run for the hills on her right, hoping to keep Piecazzo and his opponent between her and the riflepony. She couldn’t do a thing for Piecazzo while that brute was still after her! She scrambled up a steep cliff, hoping it would prove a deterrent for the rider. A rock just above her left shoulder shattered, spraying her with bits of grit, but she didn’t dare look back.

The climb seemed to take forever, and the riflepony missed another two times before she got to the top. How could he be such a bad aim? She couldn’t possibly be that hard of a target. She looked over her shoulder and felt her breath hitch. The riflepony was going around the cliff and up the smoother slope! Why hadn’t she expected that?

Running for all she was worth, heaving with exhaustion, she descended the other side of the hill. Rocks dotted the landscape, but it was all more of the same thing she’d just seen and none of it would work for a hiding place. Her luck had run out, she just knew it. “Come on, Rarity, think. Think, think, think!”

A furious cry shattered the night air. She turned to find the rider barreling towards her on his lizard, which suddenly seemed so much bigger than she’d remembered. It opened its mouth wide, revealing thick fangs.

“Luna guide me!” Rarity turned and opened fire once, twice, three times. Then she heard nothing but clicking.

But Silver Lining did its job. Three new holes appeared in the sand lizard’s face, and it promptly fell chest-first into the rocky ground mere feet from where she stood. The rider cried out, his eyes wide and his gun flying into the darkness as he was thrown from the saddle.

Rarity had no time to dodge. The rider flew into her and the two tumbled to the ground in a tangle. Before she even knew what was happening, the stallion had her on her back. His fist connected with her face, slamming her head back into the ground. He struck a second and third time before she registered the need to defend herself. Though lights flashed in her vision, she at last responded, cracking him across the temple with the butt of Silver Lining.

The blow didn’t seem to bother him at all. He used his elbow to pin her arm down, then wrapped his other hand around her throat and squeezed. As she choked and fought to breathe, he leaned down to look into her eyes. His own pale blues were alight with hatred as he hissed, “The boss always said ponies should know their killer’s name. Mine’s Double Diamond, and I’m going to enjoy every second of this.”

Rarity scratched at him with her free hand, but nothing she did could dislodge him. Already her lungs were burning. At that moment she would have begged for release, but not a sliver of air could escape her throat. She looked about frantically, desperate for something, anything to help her get away. Her chest heaved, her heart pounded.

Not now. Not yet! I can’t die here!

Her eyes rolled back, and then she saw her horn.

Oh, Sisters, I am stupid.

Through the thickness growing in her skull, she reached for her magic, picturing the spell in her mind. Indigo for force, Blue for energy. Lots of Blue. She began to cast. Her horn flickered for an instant before shining bright blue in her fuzzy vision. Double Diamond’s eyes widened and he released her arm, reaching back in preparation for another blow. Before he could follow through, a rock flew from the ground and shattered against the side of his head with enough force to send him sprawling.

As exhilarating as it was to have air pouring into her lungs, Rarity knew she couldn’t afford to enjoy it. She fumbled with the pouch at her side, barely remembering to snap off the button sealing it, and pulled out a fresh cylinder for Silver Lining. She sat up, fumbling with the gun’s locking lever, gasping for air. Her eyes darted between the rapidly recovering stallion and the gun, the latter of which stubbornly refused to work with her trembling hands. “C-come on, please, come on!”

Double Diamond roared as he rose, a rock in hand. He flung himself at her, only to stumble back when the cylinder Rarity had been holding smashed into his open mouth. Blood and teeth flew as the lever finally came loose. The empty cylinder slipped out… and only then did Rarity realize her mistake. Cursing, she lost precious seconds reaching into her pouch for another cylinder.

The stallion slammed into her, bringing her to the ground once more and knocking the gun from her hands. Screaming, Rarity fended off his blows by grabbing his wrists. They struggled against one another, him trying to grab her throat again and her fighting to keep him at bay.

“Why the buck won’t you die?” His scream sprayed saliva in her face as his fingers inched closer. Gritting her teeth, Rarity focused on splitting her attention in two directions. Blue and Indigo again. More care, more detail. Just like a needle and thread. If she could stay alive for just a little longer…

His hands wrapped about her throat, and no amount of pushing and clawing could dislodge them. “I’ll see you in Tartarus, bitch!”

The barrel of Silver Lining pressed against his temple. He had just enough time for his eyes to widen in realization before she pulled the trigger with her magic. The opposite side of his head burst open in an explosion of bone and gore. He collapsed on top of her, face locked in that gaping, shocked expression.

Rarity scrambled out from under him, barely getting to her knees before her lunch spilled out on the rocks. She crawled away from her own mess, sobbing and shaking all over, before finally rolling over to collapse on her back. Her chest moved with a spasmodic rhythm in a desperate battle to get some air back into her lungs, and in the back of her mind she knew she was hyperventilating.

As she stared up at the moonlight sky, her mind and body gradually calmed in the face of exhaustion. Her breathing normalized, her heart’s hummingbird pace slowed, and the cloud of near panic faded. She didn’t think, didn’t move, only stared. When she finally closed her eyes, recent images repeated against the back of her eyelids: Piles’ face disappearing in a red splatter, the mare sent flying by an errant tail, Double Diamond’s skull spraying the hot air. Teeth and fangs and flashes and screams.

Fresh tears built up in the corner of her eyes before creating rivers down her cheekbones. The words came unbidden, barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. I’m s-so sorry. Luna. Celestia. F-forgive me, but I don’t want to die.” It seemed the royal princesses had no interest in returning from exile just to comment on the matter.

So Rarity simply lay there, quietly weeping and wishing she was back in Mooisville, safe with her parents in a boring, uninteresting life. Maybe with some drab stallion and a foal or two. It would be so dull, but it would have been better than knowing what she’d just become for the sake of surviving. As desperately hard as it had been… it had been so hideously easy. She was alive.

Two more ponies were dead. Was her life worth theirs? The answer eluded her, and so she stared up at the moon and prayed.

It was some time before she heard the shuffling, dragging steps. For a moment she wondered if it might be that mare, come to exact the cost. If it was, Rarity wasn’t sure she had the will to fight. Then she heard a feeble trill, and something bumped the side of her head. Slowly, in a daze, she turned it to gaze upon a familiar, scaled face.

Her heart returned to her throat. “P-P-Piecazzo?”

The sand lizard gave another of its weak calls and nudged her once more, staining her face with sticky blood. Though her body protested, Rarity forced herself to sit up and turn to the creature. What she saw made her heart sink into a dark place she thought it might never return from.

Piecazzo was covered in deep gashes, many of which were caked with dirt and grit. He was missing one eye from a hideous gouge in his face and his hide dangled like some grotesque curtain. She leaned over to examine the rest of him and whimpered at the sight of one of his legs torn off at the knee. Not a single wound had stopped bleeding, creating a trail over the hill that shimmered in the moonlight.

The great lizard, his legs shaking with effort, slowly dropped to his belly and rested his chin in her lap. His body heaved with slow, shuddering breaths and he gave another quiet trill. He stared balefully up at her with his remaining eye. It was a window into unspoken agony, and yet she saw something else that made it hurt far worse: concern.

She wanted to say something, but a lump in her throat kept her voice in check. Slowly, she reached down to scratch under his frills, tears dripping from her cheeks as he closed his eye and hummed. She didn’t need anypony else to tell her what would happen next. She thought of Cranky and how long he’d had Piecazzo. Her lip quavered.

At last, the words escaped her throat. “Th-thank you, Piecazzo. You’ve been such a noble c-creature. I’m sorry that I brought you to this.”

Yes… it was her fault, wasn’t it? If she hadn’t killed Braeburn—

The Dust Devil made a whimpering sound, interrupting her moment of self-loathing. She sighed and continued to pet and scratch him, not bothering to fret over her tears. She stared at the blood dripping off his face and into her lap. “Oh, if only I could do something for you.” Unwilling to stare at the wounded lizard any longer, she turned her face away. Her eyes landed on Silver Lining lying at her side.

Her heart found its way out of that deep dark hole in her chest and slammed itself into her throat yet again. The idea swirled about in her head, terrible and unthinkable, and yet she thought about it all the same. She’d heard of this kind of thing, known it was a common practice. But Piecazzo…

Perhaps she could get to town. Then something could be done! If she hurried, maybe Cranky would—

Piecazzo pressed his uninjured cheek to her stomach and make another of those soft coos. Such a quiet, calm sound. She looked down to find him staring up at her again with that one good eye. A creature could say so much without a voice, even with only half a face, and Piecazzo’s message was clear.

Rarity closed her eyes and held her head high. Dear Sisters. Celestia and Luna, give me the strength to live this new life.

The gun was in her hand. Sucking down slow breaths, she shifted so she could wrap her arm around Piecazzo’s neck, gently scratching under his chin as she did. “It’s a-all right. It’s all right, Piecazzo. I p-promise.”

Piecazzo whimpered as the barrel pressed against his forehead.

Rarity chewed her lip and fought to keep her breathing steady. Her gaze, blurry and burning, landed on the pale orb in the night sky. Though her throat burned, she managed to force out some hoarse words. “Princess Luna, you’ll l-let him stay by your side in the Exalted Stars, won’t you? I t-think he’s earned it. I… I really do.”

She waited for an answer. None came. She waited longer, silently begging for something, anything to happen other than…

A trill. A gunshot.

Rarity’s sobs filled the night air beneath an ever-gazing moon.
> Episode 03: Southward Bound
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


18th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


The wagon train moved slowly south, as it had for seven-and-a-half weeks straight. Now, at long last, it had come within sight of the mountain range known as the Dragon’s Teeth, a collection of tall crags. They jutted into the clear blue sky in a manner that made Rarity think of… well, dragon’s teeth. She didn’t have to guess about the origin of their name.

But the foothills of the mountains were still several hours away. The sun beat down on the train with ruthless consistency, making every pony not fortunate enough to be in the covered wagons sweat terribly. Rarity had given up complaining about such things six weeks ago, particularly when she realized there was nothing to be done about it.

But by Luna’s stars, she felt filthy. No, she was filthy, the grime and dirt and dried sweat squeezed into her every crevice. She’d give anything for a bath, or even a simple dip in a lake. Sadly, the wagon train had spent the entire journey in the western foothills of the Eerie Cliffs, where there were no bodies of water to take advantage of. More than half the caravan’s stores consisted of water. How their minotaur leader, one Long Horn, could refuse to travel along the less demanding east side of the Eeries boggled the mind.

Then again, that was why she’d paid to join this train, wasn’t it? It wasn’t that it was cheaper, but that it was harder. Unpleasant. Unexpected. Only a season had passed since her departure from Spurhoof, and she had every reason to think the Apples were watching for her. The more dangerous route meant fewer equally dangerous ponies looking to cash in on her formerly pretty head.

Wiping sweat from her brow, she wondered if the sheer discomfort was worth it. All around her, there was nothing but reddish-yellow sand and rock. A more barren sight she doubted she’d ever see again. This was the area known as the Great Salt Plains, a desert that seemed nothing short of endless. Of course, they were only bridging the southeastern corner between the Eerie Cliffs and the Dragon’s Teeth, a journey that would only require two days of travel. But going northwest?

It was said a pony could travel whole seasons and never see anything but sand and rock. After this little trek, the thought filled Rarity with a subtle but profound horror. The heat out here was merciless, the silence grating on the nerves. At least they had the mountains visible in the distance ahead. What would it be like to have no landmarks at all, nothing to tell the traveler they were nearing their destination? It struck her as the height of despair.

Such were her thoughts these days. Depressing, truly, but better than thinking about the lives she’d taken back in Spurhoof. At least none of her fellow travelers had asked about such things. She had money, so they let her join. Never had Rarity been so happy to work with simple-minded folk.

There were about twenty in the caravan. They took turns guiding the sand lizards, which were the bulky and slow variety known as Thick Scales. The massive beasts, each as wide as the wagons they pulled, were perfectly suited to the task, able to plod along for days on end without pause. Weeks, if given a steady supply of food and water while they were moving. And of course, it was Rarity’s turn to lead one. She wouldn’t be out in the burning sun coated in her own sweat otherwise. She held the reins of her Thick Scale, named Gentle Giant, in her left hand and walked alongside the lumbering behemoth. He was easily three times the size Piecazzo had been.

Oh, Sisters, why’d she have to think about him? She kept her eyes open, not wanting to see his pained gaze on the back of her eyelids. Instead, she focused on the three wagons ahead of the one she’d been charged with. Each one was pulled by a Thick Scale guided by a lone pony. Each also had a second pony walking nearby, lookouts focused more on detecting problems around and ahead of the wagons. Rarity’s lookout was a young colt she liked to call Troublemaker. Not his real name, but hers suited him more and made his mother smirk. It was good to know he was on the other side of the wagon, where his incessant chatter couldn’t annoy her.

Heavy footsteps alerted her to the approach of Long Horn. She looked over her shoulder to find him approaching on the back of a trotting yellow Dust Devil, sporting jeans and a Stetson but shirtless. His muscular body shined with sweat, and a few weeks ago the sight may have given Rarity some unladylike ideas. Today she merely watched his approach with mild disinterest.

“You doing alright?” he asked as he approached, voice a deep rumble.

She nodded, turning her head to follow his path as he moved ahead of her. “Well enough under the circumstances.”

He returned the nod and continued ahead. “Good to see you’re getting acclimated. We’ll be switching teams in a couple hours.”

Rarity should have been proud of what she’d just heard. His comment about her acclimating was the minotaur’s way of complimenting her. And he was right, she had grown accustomed to the travel. She’d barely been able to go more than two or three hours between breaks in the first few days, and that had been pushing herself to near heatstroke. Today she could last her entire shift at the same pace as the others, even if she’d be a lot more worn out than any of them.

But the knowledge of this progress did little to cheer her up. On the contrary, it only served to remind her that this was going to be the new norm. No more work over a sewing machine in a magically cooled room, no more teatimes, no more comfy beds. Just the burning sun, tired legs and a body encrusted with dirt and sweat. She’d stopped crying over it some time ago, but that didn’t mean she’d grown to like it any more.

She heaved a sigh. All she seemed to do nowadays was sulk. If only she had some means of cheering herself up.





They were in the northern foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth, and the caravan had come to a stop. One of the wagons up ahead had broken a wheel on the rough terrain, halting the entire operation until it could be repaired. According to Knobby Knuckle, the one doing said repairs, it wouldn’t take more than an hour.

That was plenty of time for Rarity to practice her least favorite hobby. She stood a few hundred feet from the wagons, carefully setting down the last of the empty tin cans. They were, to use Long Horn’s terminology, junk, having been dented or crushed or faced some other crises that made them useless for the train’s purposes. With the three settled in a neat row, she walked until she was a few dozen feet away. Troublemaker and his father, an earth pony named Swing Set, stood nearby to watch with curiosity.

Facing the cans, Rarity grit her teeth and forced herself to grab Silver Lining. Holding it with both hands, she took aim. No matter how many times she did this, holding the gun only made her feel dirtier than she already was. And when she looked down the sights at the targets, all she could see was Piles’ head erupting in a splash of blood.

Don’t think about it that way, Rarity. It’s just some useless cans.

But they might be skulls next time. Her stomach roiled and her hands shook, but she adamantly refused to back down. Seconds passed…

Silver Lining fired, and Rarity felt that familiar moment of disgust and pride that she didn’t blink from the bang. The can on the left bounced. It never ceased to amaze her how strangely accurate she was, even when her hands shook as they so often did.

“She shoots real slow, Pops.”

She saw Swing Set squeeze on Troublemaker’s ear, making the colt wince. “Hush up an’ let her practice.”

Rarity’s lips twitched upwards at Troublemaker’s scowl, but made sure the smile was hidden behind her hair. It faded quickly anyway once she settled into taking aim at the next can. Her throat dried as she stared into the angry eyes of Double Diamond. Double Diamond… would she ever forget that name?

Did she really want to?

Another shot. Dirt kicked up to the left of the can she’d been targeting. Rarity grimaced and tried to settle her thoughts. No ghosts of the past, no waves of guilt. All she had to do was focus and…

The gun kicked, and the can jumped, falling on its side. This time she saw the scales of a Dust Devil as holes burst into being on its face.

Rarity closed her eyes and cursed under her breath. “Don’t think about it, Rarity. It was a season ago. Get over it.”

“And now she’s talking to herself. Seriously, Pops, I think she’s crazy. Ow!”

A retort danced on the tip of her tongue, but Rarity held back and brought the gun up once more. She gave herself a few seconds to steady her breathing and empty her mind of anything but the can in front of her. Once her hands had mostly stopped shaking, she held her breath and squeezed the trigger.

She didn’t see a can rip open. She saw Piecazzo’s head.

Silver Lining hit the ground. Rarity stared at hands that trembled. Her pulse pounded in her ears and her throat constricted. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe! She began to double over, clutching at her chest.

Swing Set was at her side. He was saying something. He held her by the shoulders, preventing her from falling. His lips moved in a single word. What word? She strained her ears but could hear nothing. She tried closing her eyes and had to open them again to not see Piecazzo’s… what was left of Piecazzo.

“Breathe. Breathe, Miss Belle!”

Air entered her lungs at last. Rarity sucked it in greedily. The pounding in her skull gradually faded to a mere background noise. She wobbled for a few more seconds, but finally managed to stand up straight. She looked up to find no bodies, only three fallen cans. It took her a moment to register just what had happened. Slowly, she bent down and reached for Silver Lining. Her hand paused inches away.

Swing Set, one hand still on her shoulder, knelt to take the gun. “They were good shots.”

For a fraction of a moment, she wondered if he might use Silver Lining on her. The thought didn’t come with any fear, but rather numbness. Sighing, she stood up straight once more. “I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.”

He hummed, examining Silver Lining from several angles as he did. “This is a strange gun. Never seen anything like it.”

Rarity couldn’t bring herself to turn to him. She just kept staring at the targets. Her voice sounded dull even to her ears. “It was a gift.”

He whistled. “One heck of a gift. Double action. That kind of machining don’t come cheap.”

The words gradually seeped into her mind, dragging her out of her daze enough to finally let her look to him. “Double action?”

His studious eye shifted to her. After a moment, he offered Silver Lining to her. Rarity briefly considered not taking it, but the logical side reminded her that she’d be dead without it. When she grabbed the handle, however, he didn’t let go. She looked up to find him watching her with eyebrows lowered and lips set in a thin line.

“You did something bad, didn’t you?”

Rarity stared at him, mouth hanging open, then recoiled. Her heart returned to its frantic pounding and suddenly all she wanted was to bury herself in the sands and hide forever. “I… I m-mean…”

He raised his hand to silence her. “It’s okay. Won’t tell a soul. But I need to know: you gotta bounty? That why you were so eager to get outta the Bowl?”

Her eyes widened as one thought ricocheted around in her brain: He has my gun. She risked glancing around. There was nothing out here but rocks. If he wanted to kill her…

“That’s what I thought.” He sighed and offered her the gun once more, this time holding it by the barrel. “Again, I’m not telling anypony.”

She glanced at Silver Lining, then at him. Was this some kind of trick? Hesitantly, she reached out and took the gun. He relinquished it this time, and she hurried to put it in her holster. “Thank you?”

He nodded, but the hard look didn’t leave his eyes. “I won’t ask what you did, but know this: if this caravan gets attacked ‘cause of you, I’m protecting my family.”

Rubbing her hands together as if to wash them, Rarity nodded timidly. “I-I understand.”

“I got the water, Pops!” Troublemaker hurried to them, waving a canteen high above his head. He paused a few feet away and gave Rarity a disappointed look. “Oh, you’re not hurt no more?”

Swing Set rolled his eyes and snatched the canteen from his son. “Go back to your mother and let her know everything’s alright here.” He waited until the slouching colt had walked a few dozen feet away before giving the canteen to Rarity. Her hands shook so much she almost dropped it.

Seeing this, he heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry. You don’t seem at all that dangerous to me, amazing gun aside. You look more like a scared city filly who’s way outta her league.”

“You have no idea.” Rarity hurried to take a swig of the canteen, the cool water soothing her throat. Her hands, still trembling, struggled to screw the lid back on.

Swing Set watched her efforts at first, but finally took the canteen and closed it himself. “We’re almost to the Scorched Plains. I hope ya find whatever you’re looking for, Miss Belle.” He gave her another nod before heading back to the caravan.

She watched him go, shoulders slumped and heart heavy. Seeing his back make her feel so… alone. She hadn’t expected anything more, so why did it hit her so strongly?

Groaning, she looked to the mountains rising high in the south. Two more days and they’d be there. The Scorched Plains. Home of the Buffalo Tribes. Any further south than that and she’d be in the Burning Lands, and no sane pony went there. Perhaps out there, in the vast and empty plains, she’d be able to make a new life without fearing the Apples.

But what kind of life would she lead?





Rarity awoke with a start, sitting up and slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a scream that didn’t come. She’d gotten much better at that in the ensuing weeks. Her heart throbbed as fresh images of a nude, brutalized Coco lingered in her vision. Those wide, empty eyes haunted worse than any real ghost ever could.

Hurriedly, she grabbed her backpack and digged into it, extracting the golden necklace Coco had given her. As soon as she hugged it to her chest, her anxiety melted away. Her pulse slowed, her breathing eased and the terrible vision faded. Heaving a deep sigh, she leaned against the wall of the wagon and tried to relax.

“Nightmares, again?”

Rarity glanced over to her – wagon mate? – lying on a bedroll near the front of the ever-rocking wagon. She was an older, silver unicorn named Saltwater. The mare easily outpaced Rarity all day in spite of her advanced years.

Nodding, Rarity relaxed her hold on the necklace to study the pale stone on it yet again. “They’ve gotten better. A little.”

Saltwater raised an eyebrow. “That fancy neckwear always seems to clear your head.”

A rare smile graced Rarity’s lips. “It was a gift from a dear friend.” The smile faded as she puzzled over the necklace, turning it about in her hands to examine the unadorned backside. “But that doesn’t explain how it works so well to calm me down.”

“Maybe it’s magic.” Saltwater rested her head on her roll and yawned. “Special gear like that could have some sort of enchantment on it. Where’d your friend get it?”

“From her mother.” Rarity shrugged and started to put the necklace away, but stopped herself. She’d not wanted to wear it because it would attract undue attention. Yet if it really was magical, then perhaps it would be better to keep it close? Still, she couldn’t waltz around with something so fabulous around her neck. It’d be like painting a target on her back.

“So was her mother a unicorn?”

“I have no idea.” Looking around, Rarity spotted some cotton cloth. Crawling across the wagon, she retrieved it along with the needle and thread she knew was in a repair kit in the corner. “Would you mind terribly if I used these?”

Saltwater cracked open an eye to peer at her. “You sew?”

A knowing smile wormed its way onto Rarity’s lips. “Now and then.”

With a snort, Saltwater rolled to face the corner. “Got plenty of stuff for it. Just put it back where ya found it. And keep quiet, I’m trying to sleep.”

With a soft “Thank you”, Rarity settled back onto her bedroll and got to work, starting by unbuttoning her blouse. She grimaced; it used to be white. Now it was just plain ugly. As she folded it into a more usable form, she wondered with a heavy heart if she’d ever wear clean clothes again. Her displeasure faded, however, once she got started with the needle and thread.

Neither skill nor speed had been impeded by time away from the shop, and within only a few minutes she’d crafted a large pocket within her shirt. Once certain that her stitching would do the job, she put the garment back on. The pocket settled just beneath her bra on the right side. A couple new buttons on the interior let her extend the pocket to the left side of the shirt as well, thereby having it cover her whole front. With that done, she carefully placed the necklace in the pocket before buttoning up her shirt the rest of the way.

Sitting up straight, Rarity turned and twisted in place, testing the weight of the necklace. It felt secure, at least. She’d placed it just beneath her breasts in the mild hope that the shape of them would conceal the necklace’s presence, but she had no way to know for certain. At least, not by looking down.

Well, sleep wouldn’t be coming to her anytime soon. Why not test the design out? With this in mind, she moved as quietly as she could to the back of the wagon and climbed out.

The waxing moon shone brilliantly upon the caravan, which continued its rumbling way south over the Dragon’s Teeth. The landscape consisted of nothing save sharp-looking rocks and stone rising above the wagons on either side of a long, winding pass. Rarity waved to the driver of the wagon behind hers and walked on ahead.

The passage continued to rise high above them. Rarity’s legs protested the climb, but only a little. She was up to the second wagon from the lead when Long Horn rode up to her from behind, bringing his Dust Devil to a casual gait at her side. He looked down at her with the same hard face she’d come to expect from him. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She raised an eyebrow at the minotaur. “Do you ever?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” he replied with just a hint of sarcasm. “I suggest you try. Your next shift is going to be a hard one.”

“I will in a moment. Might I ask how long it should be before we reach the top of the pass?”

Long Horn grunted and eyed the area ahead of the caravan. “Probably right around the time you start your shift in the afternoon.”

“Thank you, sir.” She gave him a nod, and he moved on ahead. Rarity paused to let the wagons roll by, crossing her arms as a wave of satisfaction came over her. He surely would have said something if the necklace had been obvious, or at least given her a funny look. Her experiment, it seemed, had been a success. With any luck she’d have less troublesome dreams with the necklace so close, although she questioned how comfortable it would be.

Keeping her arms crossed kept her from giving in to the temptation to toy with the necklace. As hidden as it was it still felt odd to have the weight where it was. She distracted herself by studying the peaks on either side of the pass. They were tall, jagged things, far from welcoming to the weary traveler. Rarity couldn’t help wondering who would want to live in such a dreadful place. Hopefully the Scorched Plains would at least be a little more aesthetically pleasing.

She blinked. Was something up there? She peered at the ridge to the caravan’s right side, but nothing moved despite her scrutiny. She shrugged; who knew what sort of animals might live out here? She was sure Long Horn was prepared for such things, not that she anticipated any threats. Certainly not from wild animals, at least. And bandits? How would they ever get down to the wagons from up there without seriously hurting themselves?

Her wagon rolled past, so Rarity climbed back inside. Saltwater’s faint snoring prompted her to move quietly as she returned to her bedroll. Lying down, she idly rubbed the necklace beneath her shirt and wondered about Coco. If she’d gone to Moosiville as she’d promised, then she would have arrived three weeks ago at latest.

How had her parents taken the news? Perhaps they were angry. Terrified? She could see her father wanting to travel clear across Equestria to find and bring his ‘little princess’ home. All the better she’d not bothered to tell Coco exactly where she’d gone. Her mother and sister would hold him back, and maybe in a few months she could write to them from one of the towns in the foothills. But not yet, not until they’d had the time they needed to calm down. They might assume her dead if she waited too long, though. Could she live with the guilt such a thing would bring?

She snorted and rolled to her side. If she could handle the guilt of murdering three ponies, she could handle this.

But had she been handling it? The nightmares, the shaking in her hands every time she held Silver Lining… which was currently jabbing into her waist. Taking the holster off crossed her mind, but she rejected the idea as she always did. So long as she had a bounty on her head, Silver Lining would remain on her hip.

Grumbling under her breath, she turned over onto her left side.





The wagons had stopped. Rarity placed a hand over her eyes and peered towards the front of the train. It looked as though Long Horn was having a discussion with his second in command, Cork Dry.

“What’s going on?” Troublemaker asked, ducking under Gentle Giant’s head as he approached.

“I’m not sure.” Rarity glanced at her wagon, then at the colt. Curiosity and responsibility waged war with her. She shouldn’t really leave Troublemaker to handle this alone, especially considering the way this entire situation made her nervous. She didn’t even know why it made her nervous. Long Horn and Cork Dry could be discussing just about anything.

Despite all that, curiosity finally won out, and she offered the reins to the colt. “Can you handle this?”

Troublemaker raised an eyebrow her way. “You want me to hold on to Gentle Giant?”

“Oh.” She sighed and turned away. “You’re right, you probably can’t handle it.”

“I didn’t say that!” He snatched the reins from her hand and glared up at her with puffed up cheeks. “You watch, I’ll keep him under control!”

“Well, then, I guess I better leave you to it.” Rarity managed to keep her smirk hidden until she’d put some distance between them. She could only hope the boy’s mother and father were okay with him handling a Thick Scale on his own. Not that it would be hard in this case. He wasn’t called ‘Gentle Giant’ for nothing.

A small crowd of half a dozen ponies had formed around Long Horn and Cork Dry. Rarity touched the arm of the nearest to catch her attention. “What’s going on?”

The mare, an earth pony named Amber Horizon, shook her head. “Looks like something weird’s going on with the town.”

The town? Rarity moved around the crowd to the ridge. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a tiny village, its buildings nestled at the exit of the pass. It looked like it might even be smaller than Spurhoof. The area seemed no more inviting than the rest of the Dragon’s Teeth, but at least there was shelter. Then again, she couldn’t expect to find an inn, but just the hint of being back in something resembling civilization managed to lift the dark cloud that had been settled over her mind lately.

The hamlet was named Firestone if she recalled correctly, and was a geode farming outpost. Rubies, mostly. The foothills around the town were visibly divided into fields of assorted rocks in various states of growth. The north and south edges of the town each had a small barn, presumably for storing equipment and gems. The town must have been fairly successful if it needed two barns for a product that literally took decades to produce.

Rarity peered at the town, abruptly realizing just how still it was. Where were the farmhands working the fields, the citizens going about their daily activities, the foals playing? Firestone looked like a ghost town. The image left her with a deep sense of unease, and Rarity found herself absent-mindedly rubbing Silver Lining’s grip. Her thumb found that small nub in the wood and couldn’t stop circling it.

Somepony tapped her shoulder. She turned to find Long Horn standing behind her. He pointed with his thumb to the caravan. “We’re headed in. Better get back to your wagon.”

Rarity was tempted to object, but held her tongue. Surely an experienced trader such as he would know what was best. Even so, she kept a hand against the necklace under her blouse the whole way to her wagon. At least she wasn’t panicking, despite the undercurrent of alarm filling her.

“What’s going on?” Troublemaker asked as he offered her Gentle Giant’s reins.

She accepted them and, giving them a light tug, spurred the lumbering creature into motion. “We’ve reached the town. I want you to get in your wagon.”

He gasped and jumped back. “And wake up Mom before it’s her turn? No way, lady! I like my head on my neck where it belongs.”

Swing Set’s voice rose from behind her. “Do as she says, Justice.”

Troublemaker’s face paled. “B-but, Pops…”

“No buts. Keep your mouth shut and try not to aggravate the dragon.”

The colt slinked towards his wagon, slouching so much it was a wonder his chin didn’t touch the ground. He looked prepared to meet his maker.

Rarity turned to Swing Set. “You’re worried too?”

“Have to be off my rocker not to be,” he replied, puffing on a half-used extract stick. “Be ready. Long Horn smells trouble, and his instincts are usually on point.”

Well, that was certainly encouraging. Rarity scowled at his back as he walked to his wagon. What kind of trouble could lead to an entire town going quiet like that? Were the citizens hiding from something? Ponies going missing while traveling was one thing, but all the citizens in the town? No, she couldn’t believe that. They’d get down there and find some logical excuse. They just couldn’t think of one, that was all.

Despite her self-reprimands, her fingers continued to toy with Silver Lining’s grip.





Nothing happened. That didn’t alleviate Rarity’s fears. If anything, they were now heightened, and she constantly scoured her surroundings.

Firestone, it seemed, really was a ghost town. Every building was abandoned, some left wide open for anypony to just walk in and do what they pleased. One of the stallions reported finding a table still set up for dinner, and recently. The fields still had their geodes, as did the barns. After nearly an hour of scouring the town and local countryside, the sun had touched the horizon. Long Horn called the travelers together in the town square, where the wagons had been stopped.

“I don’t like this, Horny.” Saltwater peered at the buildings around them, her brow furrowed and lips set in a thin line. The expression matched many of the others. “It’s downright creepy. I say we move on.” Most of the ponies present murmured their agreement.

“Whoa now, hold on.” Love Melody, a unicorn mare, raised her hand high. “Yeah, it’s creepy, but what about us? This entire trade route survives because of this one stop! If we don’t at least get what we came for, we’ll never be able to afford the return trip from Mareami.”

“Not to mention all of us wind up broke,” Cork Dry added. “All our fortunes are riding on this.”

Rarity tactfully chose not to mention that this wasn’t true for her. She thanked six years of hard work for giving her enough bits in the banks to last a long while, especially given how little she’d been spending since leaving Spurhoof.

“We’ll find other ways to make money,” somepony behind Rarity shouted. “It’s not worth it!”

“Whatever happened to this town, it’s over,” Love Melody said. “I say we stay the night and stock up on geodes. We dump the goods we would have lost anyway to make room.”

Saltwater waved her hands at her in a denying motion. “Nuh-uh. Whatever did whatever to this town might come back!”

Rarity walked away from the group, moving for the nearest building. They’d make a decision without her input. It wasn’t like she had any experience to back up whatever she might say, after all. She leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms to keep from grabbing Silver Lining or rubbing her necklace. Personally, she was more than willing to move on and escape this dreadful place, but it wasn’t her livelihood on the line.

The best thing for now was to distract herself, but how to do that? She wasn’t in the mood to practice with Silver Lining, mostly because she didn’t want to attract undue attention to herself. Plus the bullets Cranky had given her hadn’t been as bottomless as they’d seemed at the time, and she would need to be a bit more conservative about practicing for a while. What might she be doing if she were back in Spurhoof? It was nearing, or perhaps was, the Falling Heat season, and that meant…

She blinked. “My birthday.” She tried to count the days since she’d left home. Were they in the Falling Heat season yet? Yes, it had to be. Her birthday would be coming in a few weeks, if her guess on the date was accurate. She found herself pondering what she might do to celebrate when it came by, if she even noticed. She’d usually treated herself to cookies, a true rarity in little places like Spurhoof. Or here, perhaps.

Alas, this year she’d be doing nothing at all, except trudging through rough terrain and hoping there was nopony chasing her tail. Her first birthday in her new life.

How… charming.

“I ain’t scared.”

Rarity’s ears twitched at the new voice. Blinking out of her daze, she looked up to find Troublemaker glaring up at her with his hands balled into fists. They shook… a little. “Oh?”

He nodded, cheeks puffed up and eyes hard. “I’ll stay up all night keeping watch. That’s what a brave stallion’d do!”

“And you’re a brave stallion, are you?” Rarity glanced towards the others, who were still having their debate. “It’s good of you to volunteer, but are you sure you need to? You’ve been up all day helping me with the wagon, after all.”

This only prompted him to spread his hooves and set his hands to his hips. “I ain’t tired! And I’m brave enough! You watch, I’ll teach ‘em not to mess with us.”

She cocked her head. “Teach who?”

He opened his mouth, paused, closed it again. His face scrunched up in thought for a few seconds. “You know. ‘Them.’ Who took the ponies here.”

“And do you know who ‘they’ are?”

He hesitated. “No… b-but I’ll know ‘em when I see ‘em!”

He was putting on a decent show, though there was still a bit of a wobble in his knees. Despite her worries, Rarity found it within herself to smile for the colt. “I know you’ll do a good job, Justice.”

Justice stopped in the middle of some unknown rebuttal, his eyes bulging at her tone. “Y-you do?”

“Of course!” She gave him her best pouty face. “We’ll need somepony strong and brave like you to keep us safe. You will keep us safe, won’t you?”

Pink blossomed across his face. His bravado disappeared in favor of shuffling and rubbing the back of his head. “Er… yeah. ‘Course I will.” He recovered quickly, sticking out his chest and grinning. “You watch, nothing’ll get past me!” He turned and ran for the wagons, which Rarity noticed were being moved into a circle by the traders. Swing Set gave him a smile as they passed one another going opposite directions.

Once he got within a few feet he asked, “You know he thinks you’re a gunfighter?”

Rarity jerked up from the wall. “A what? Wherever did he get that notion?”

“Not a big jump.” He began counting on his fingers. “You’re moody. You’re a loner. Mysterious past. Oh,” he pointed at Silver Lining. “And you practice your shooting almost daily. Honestly, he’s not the only one suspects ya.”

“Wonderful.” She pressed a hand to her temple and groaned. “That’s all I need, ponies thinking I’m some brute of a drifter!”

“Brute? Nah. Drifter? Yep.” He glanced back at the others, then leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “Just don’t tell him otherwise, okay? He won’t say it, but he admires you. Colts need that kind of thing, y’know?”

“No, I don’t know.” She sighed and raised her hands in defeat. “But very well. I won’t be with you for much longer anyway.”

His eyes widened. “You’re leaving us?”

“The deal I made with Long Horn was to go with you as far as the Scorched Plains.” She gestured to the hills in the south. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but they’re just a little farther that way, and the wagons are going to be headed east now. I’ll stay with all of you tonight, but then I have to make my own way.” She didn’t dare mention how she had no idea what to do afterwards, despite having been thinking about it ever since Spurhoof.

So of course he immediately asked, “Why are you going out there? Got some deal with the buffalo?”

Wincing, she looked away and tried to feign confidence. “It’s my own business, I’m afraid.”

He raised his hands as if to calm her down. “Now, now, I didn’t mean to pry.” With a sigh, he flicked the ashes off his extract stick. “Damn shame, though. Justice won’t be happy about it.”

As much as the colt annoyed her at times, Rarity couldn’t help feeling a small pang in her chest at the thought. She crushed that sensation quickly. “I suppose it’s best not to give him any ideas. I don’t want to be the pony responsible for him thinking of drifters as ‘cool’.”

Swing Set raised an eyebrow. “Miss Belle, we are drifters. It’s part of the job description.” He grinned at her sputtered fumbling for a response. “Ah, don’t worry about it, I know what you meant.”

After a long drag from his extract stick, he said, “It was good having you on the team. Most temps like you spend the entire trip whining and making Long Horn wanna rip their tails off. You did good, Miss Belle.”

Her ears perked. “Really? I thought I did pretty poorly for a while there, and I never did get up to the same level as even the least of the traders.”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But you adapted quick and worked hard. Can’t ask for more than that. Long Horn ain’t said much, but I know he’s appreciative of a temp who knows how to pull her weight for a change.”

Rarity smiled at the praise, but shook her head. “You won’t convince me to join the caravan as a regular.”

“I’m not trying to.” He took one last drag and flicked the butt of his extract stick away. His brow furrowed in apparent thought. “What I’m saying is… I know you’re not used to this kind of life. Anypony watching you when we left the Bowl could see that. But you got better, and quick. I mean… I’m saying…”

Groaning, he rubbed a hand over his face. “I ain’t so good at words. Point is, if you’re really gonna be a drifter – whatever your reasons – I think you’ve got the right head for it. You’ll be fine out here, is what I’m saying.”

She studied him in silence, her heart gradually sinking further into her chest. Did he think he might cheer her up with this? The last thing she wanted to hear was that she might actually have been born to be a drifter. It granted a hideous sense of permanency to the whole lifestyle, a permanency she was not keen on encouraging.

But she bit down on her retort and gave herself a moment to breathe. Swing Set was trying to help. The polite thing to do would be to acknowledge that. If she could only pretend to feel better…

It proved beyond her. Rarity bowed her and head shuddered. “I… Th-thank you, Swing, but I never wanted to be… be…”

“Hey, woah!” Swing Set took a step closer. “Crud, I knew I should have gotten Knocks to do this.”

She raised a trembling hand. “It’s alright. It’s… alright.” Raising her head, she blinked the tears away before they could escape. “I’ll just have to take whatever encouragement I can.” Her gaze fell upon the hills to the south. “I… appreciate what you’re trying to do, b-but I never wanted to develop survival skills. Frankly, Mr. Set, I’m currently living in my own personal definition of Tartarus.”

Swing Set stared at her for a few seconds, expression blank. Then he sighed and nodded. “That bad, huh?”

Only a need to recover her image after that slight breakdown kept Rarity from slumping back against the wall. “Yes, it is most certainly ‘that bad.’” She rubbed Silver Lining absent-mindedly, her thumb finding that small nub on the side yet again. “But at least I have somepony’s endorsement. Perhaps I’ll be miserable, but better miserable than dead, am I correct?” She hoped she was.

She really did.





Rarity had been sleeping well for a change, but not so well that the loud thump didn’t startle her awake. Blinking and rubbing the grit from her eyes, she rolled over to check on Saltwater—

Who was currently kicking and clawing and snarling at a person on top of her! It took Rarity precious seconds to realize that her companion was under attack. Once she did, instincts kicked in and she was on her knees. Weeks of practice brought Silver Lining out of its holster in a blink, but Rarity hesitated. Could she do this again? Her hands shook, but her mind remained calm. To save Saltwater, she took aim…

The sharp points of claws touched her throat, making her freeze.

“Drop it or I rip your throat out. You’ve got three seconds.”

The gun fell from her hands in less than one. An arm reached around her shoulders and pulled her back into her captor. The claws didn’t move from her neck.

Had the Bad Apples caught up to her? Through the blood pounding like a drum in Rarity’s ears, she struggled to come to terms with her situation. Saltwater was still struggling, but her attacker was bigger and quickly getting the upper hand. Rarity trembled as she watched, silently cursing herself for being unable to help. Where were the ponies who were supposed to be keeping watch tonight? Why was nopony coming?

Through shaky lips, Rarity spoke. “I-if it’s me you’re after, I’ll come quietly. Please let the others—”

The claw tensed, and Rarity was sure she felt blood trickling down her neck. “Shut up.”

Rarity squeezed her eyes closed. It was the shop all over again! Except this time she was Coco, and her only salvation was actually fighting. And if she didn’t think of something soon—

An ear-splitting crack filled the air, making her gasp. She opened her eyes just in time to see Saltwater slump to the floor, her neck twisted at an impossible angle and her eyes bulged out. Rarity could only gape as the pony spasmed, a hideous, hollow sound rattling out of her throat. Everything else faded out as she watched, her horrified mind recording every twitchy flop.

And then she was being dragged out the back of the wagon. She was pushed out and landed roughly on her knees, and only then did the sob pierce the blockage in her throat. With it came a sharp intake of air, but then she was being dragged across the ground by her arm. She looked back to see the other one climb out, Silver Lining in his claws.

Claws. Through the shock and confusion, Rarity’s mind centered on them. She took in the forms of her assailants: tall, legs covered in fur, unclad feline paws instead of hooves, big wings, beaks. Griffons. They were griffons.

As they shoved her onto her stomach and began tying her hands behind her back, her eyes took in her surroundings. The entire nightwatch was before her, all on their bellies and tied up. No, not all. Two or three were missing. A glance towards the wagons revealed more griffons going through them and rounding up ponies. Swing Set’s wife, Hard Knocks, was shoved down next to her. A griffon began tying her up too.

It was only after a few seconds of watching this that it dawned upon Rarity how… calm she was. Her breath came out ragged, tears threatened to escape her eyes, and a little voice in the back of her mind was screaming frantically for her to do something. Despite all that, her thoughts were strangely clear. She shifted positions, trying to move her arms, and felt Coco’s necklace jut against her ribs.

Perhaps it was magical after all.

Okay, Rarity. You can handle this. Just try not to think about… Saltwater. There was that knife through her heart, so terribly familiar. She did what little she could to muscle past it and focus on the situation at hand. She glanced around and saw that there were no griffons nearby, and so turned her head towards Knocks. With voice low, she asked, “Where are Swing Set and Justice?”

Knocks’ eyes shined with fear, but she appeared as calm as Rarity felt. “Swing was on watch. I saw him on the other side. He’s okay… I think.” She closed her eyes and let her chin drop to the ground. “Justice ran. I don’t know where he is.”

By the Night Mother, the mare must have been terrified! Rarity couldn’t fathom how she was keeping control of her senses. But Troublemaker had gotten away, or so it seemed. Rarity took some hope in this. If a colt could escape, surely others could too. If she was just patient and looked for an opportunity, perhaps…

She closed her eyes and groaned. Escape? Was that the only thing she could think of? After she’d just seen Saltwater murdered, she would leave these ponies to die at the claws of these bandits?

Griffon bandits. Griffons… Rarity didn’t know a thing about griffons. She knew there was a Roost in the Eerie Cliffs. Was there another in the south? She seemed to remember as much, but not in the Dragon’s Teeth. What were they doing here? The obvious answer was that they were here for her bounty, but that made no sense. Attacking an entire caravan just to capture one pony seemed like a waste. Then again, Rarity couldn’t claim to understand the minds of bandits or griffons.

A griffon marched into the center of the ponies. She was shorter than the others, her skin a reddish brown to compliment her black legs and hair. She turned a circle, and Rarity made sure not to meet her gaze when it passed over her. When the griffon spoke, it was in a hurried tone. “Is that all of them?”

A griffon Rarity couldn’t see answered. “The majority. We had to put a few fighters down in the wagons, and I know at least one kid ran off.”

Another one stepped up. “We’ll catch him. It won’t take long.”

The apparent leader swiped her hand through the air in a cutting motion. “No, leave him. The Flaming Vermillion’s in the area and I want to be gone before she catches our scent.”

Rarity’s ears perked. The Flaming Vermillion? If the last active member of the Rainbow Gang was somewhere in these hills, Rarity couldn’t blame them for wanting to move as fast as possible. She didn’t want to place her hopes in a legendary drifter, however. She refocused her attention on the bandit leader just as she began to speak in a loud voice.

“Attention, ponies!” She paced a circle, her glare defying anypony to dare interrupt. “As of right now, you are all property of the Apex Roost. We are going to work you, and in return for that work, you will get food, shelter, and safety. Obey, work hard, and know your proper place in griffon society. Anything less, and you’ll be cooked up for supper. That’s not an exaggeration.

“We’re marching out to meet another party, and then we’re bringing all your sorry tails back to the Eerie Cliffs. You will come quietly, or you will die. Death is the only way out. The only choice you are offered is how to die.” She stopped before a young stallion and bent over him, her talons grazing his muzzle. “Old and accomplished, or young and painful. I trust you’ll all make the right choice.”

She stood up once more and snapped out orders. “Get these worthless horses up! We’re moving out.”

Slavers. They’d been captured by griffon slavers. Rarity’s veins were as cold as ice with the prospect. She’d always heard the rumors, but had never really believed them. Ponies at the tavern in Spurhoof talking about caravans disappearing, tales of griffons swooping in on unsuspecting towns unable to defend themselves. And what were the griffons making them do?

“Alright, you heard the Captain! Up, all of you!” Griffons marched around the ponies, forcing to their hooves anypony not fast enough to do so on their own. Grunting from the effort of standing without the help of her arms, Rarity climbed up and allowed herself to be corralled into the group of ponies. It was only a few minutes before they were herded forward as a unit, the griffons forming two circles around them.

Rarity was willing to put up with a great many things. Being a slave was not one of them. But how to deal with the problem? There had to be a way. All her fears and doubts had faded to a mere background noise now that she was truly aware of the situation, and she set all her mental faculties to escape. That started with analyzing their captors.

This provided no comfort. The griffons marched as a unit, the inner circle keeping an eye on the ponies and the outer circle watching everything else. Only a handful of them were armed, and those were in the outside circle with rifles. Of course, they all had their claws and beaks, and she didn’t need the demonstration with Saltwater to know that they were willing to use them. All in all, she was given the impression of a seasoned group of trained fighters, and none of the ponies had their weapons.

And what of the ponies? Rarity took a look at her immediate surroundings and, in this case, felt a little more reassured. The ponies might not be armed, but they were far from broken. Many, such as Knocks and Cork Dry, were eyeing the griffons as if looking for weaknesses. Others had their heads together, mumbling to themselves with darting, hard eyes. Rarity realized she’d been traveling with ponies who were far from pushovers, but the griffons seemed to think they’d already been cowed.

But there was one conspicuous absence. Rarity leaned towards Knocks, whom she’d made a point of staying near. “What happened to Long Horn?”

“Dead.” The mare said the word with little emotion. “Rock Lounge said they stabbed him in the back first thing.” She didn’t take her eyes off the nearest griffon. “We’ll make them pay for that.”

Her calm manner belied a certain fierceness barely perceptible in her tone. That voice bolstered Rarity’s hope. “Good to know I’m not the only one with little interest in being pressganged. If you decide to try something, do be kind enough to warn me ahead of time.”

Knocks studied her for a moment, nodded, and went back to her scrutiny.





The griffons surprised Rarity. She’d been expecting them to take the ponies back through the mountain pass and into the Great Salt Plains. Instead, they marched south, into the Scorched Plains. They commandeered three of the caravan’s wagons, loaded them up with as much as they could carry and left the rest to rot. Rarity wondered if they’d left Silver Lining back there. The thought soured her spirits considerably.

The march was grueling. Their captors set a hard pace that went nonstop through sunrise and into the morning, their bare paws seemingly unbothered by the hot landscape. The ponies were given a fifteen-minute break around noon to eat and take care of other necessities, and then they were on the move once more. Rarity’s legs ached horribly and sweat poured off her in waves, but she didn’t dare complain or slow down. One pony tried to and was feeding buzzards somewhere behind them.

The Scorched Plains weren’t as hot as the Great Salt Plains, but they still lived up to their name. A sun unhindered by clouds beat upon their backs and water was passed among griffon and pony alike to stave off heatstroke. The landscape was mostly flat save for a few low hills. Greenery consisted of low shrubs, scattered trees and, on a few rare occasions, spots of vibrant growth. Rarity likened them to miniature forests. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to spend five minutes in their inviting shade!

It would have been nice to have learned more about the griffons. Questions buzzed through her mind constantly: why did griffons need slaves, why were they hunting for slaves so far from home, why did the major cities like Hoofington or Manehattan permit their actions, how did they know where they were going? So many things worth knowing! But the constant jogging across the hot plains made every breath vital, too vital to expend on mere words. Besides that, the griffon captain had decided to start punishing ponies for talking, and she didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her whip. What kind of barbarians used whips anyway?

The same kind that kidnapped and enslaved ponies, it seemed.

After one of the longest, hardest days of Rarity’s life, the party came to a stop at a patch of trees large enough for all griffons and ponies to fit easily inside. The sun was still an hour or two over the horizon when the griffons called the halt and let the ponies rest. Rarity collapsed beside a fallen tree and willed her poor legs to stop aching. There had been a time in the last hour or so that she’d started to wonder if she wouldn’t collapse and be left for dead in this horrid place. Would tomorrow be more of the same?

Her lungs felt as if she’d been breathing needles, she had two different cramps, and her throat was drier than the Great Salt Plains. Her entire body burned from overexertion. How would she feel at this time tomorrow? This situation needed to be rectified now, otherwise she might not last another day.

Swing Set approached, settled down at her side. He offered her a waterskin, from which she happily drank. Not too much, of course. Her travelling companions had beaten basic survival requirements into her head some time ago, which included not drinking too much at times like this. As she drank, she cast her eyes about the camp being made up by the ponies under griffon orders. Although confident they wouldn’t be overheard, she still kept a wary eye on their captors. “Has anypony got a plan yet?”

He kept his head bowed, as if his attention were on the waterskin as she handed it back to him. “Honestly, I was hoping you had one by now.”

Rarity barely held back her groan. “I am not a hero. Coming up with daring escape plans isn’t exactly on my resume.”

Glancing around the camp, he muttered, “Nopony could talk during the run, you know that. There was no opportunity to get together and plan.” He thumbed his nose and made a show of tying the waterskin to his belt. “Ponies are getting anxious. If somepony doesn’t come up with a reasonable idea soon, they may try the more direct route.”

“You mean like a riot?” Rarity stomach caved as her mind drifted along the road of possibility. She could see Swing Set having his throat ripped out by griffon claws. The image made her shudder. “It would never work. Even if it did, we’d lose a lot of ponies. We can’t let them do that.”

“If a plan doesn’t come up soon, I doubt we’ll be able to do anything about it.” He climbed to his hooves with a groan, rubbed his knees, then left Rarity to brood.

A prisoner revolt. A suicidal move performed by the desperate. As Rarity examined her fellow ponies, she soon saw just what Swing Set had been referring to. While none of them would meet the griffons’ gazes, she saw more than a few scalding glances cast when they thought their captors weren’t watching. These ponies were used to freedom and fighting for what they wanted. They wouldn’t take to slavery just because the griffons threatened them with their lives. The entire camp gave her the impression of a powderkeg waiting to explode. All it needed as a spark.

Rarity suspected she’d never be able to stop what was coming, and the thought made her squirm. Were it not for the necklace – By the Night Mother, I’m actually starting to believe it’s magical, aren’t I? – she might have panicked. Instead, she began wondering if she couldn’t find a way to channel the explosion. If she could funnel the traders’ aggression in the right way, perhaps the situation could be salvaged. But how?

She noted the griffon captain having a conversation with her subordinates. They didn’t appear to be trying to conceal anything, and the captain’s face held a grimace. Curious and hopeful, Rarity forced her tired body off the ground and moved closer. She tried to keep other ponies between her and the talking griffons, hoping she wasn’t too obvious.

She caught the tail end of the captain’s sentence. “—has anything to do with her.”

“But Senior Lieutenant Yellow Wing should have been here, sir.” The griffon speaking appeared younger than most of the others by virtue of a smaller build and brighter plumage, although Rarity could hardly be called an expert in such matters. “It’s not like him to be late for anything.”

Another griffon muttered something before asking, “What about the buffalo? We did get reports of a tribe stampeding through this area.”

The captain rubbed her chin as she considered this. “It could be nothing. It could be something. Regardless, we can’t push these ponies any further, not without risking serious harm. Workhorses are no good when they can’t do the work. We’ll rest here, and if Yellow Wing hasn’t shown up by dawn we move on without him. His team knows how to get home on their own if they have to.”

Rarity retreated to think on what had been said. It sounded like whoever they were supposed to rendezvous with here hadn’t shown up. And the griffons seemed perturbed by the idea of the buffalo being in the area. Perhaps they were fighting the buffalo for some reason?

“What are you doing?”

Everypony looked up at the griffon’s sharp tone. She descended upon an older mare who had been trying to coax a pile of wood and leaves into flame. The mare met the griffon’s gaze with a glare, standing to her full height. “What? I like to cook my food. Is that a problem?”

“Yeah, it is.” The griffon kicked the pile, scattering the sticks like so much debris. “No fires. They’re veggies, they work just as good raw. Better, even.”

The mare puffed up, hands on her hips and a sneer on her lips. “Listen, bird brain, just because you—”

The claw flashed almost too fast for Rarity to see, and the mare fell back with a face covered in blood. She held her hands up to the wound with a cry, and suddenly every pony and griffon was up and watching.

The young griffon flexed her claws and snapped her beak. “Workhorses never talk back to their superiors. You will speak when told to and no sooner, is that understood?” She noticed two ponies hurrying to the mare and brandished her talons at them. “Stay back!”

The two ponies froze, eyes wide. They looked between the griffon and the mare uncertainly.

Slowly, the mare lowered her hands and stood tall once more. Rarity covered her mouth at the sight of the three scratches that crossed her cheek and over her muzzle. She would need stitches at least. And yet, while her eyes betrayed pain, the mare met the griffon’s gaze and refused to back down.

The claw rose up to her throat. “I said, is that clear?”

Rarity quickly backed away from the scene. Something told her that a mistake on either the mare’s or the griffon’s part could lead to a brawl, and that was one thing she wasn’t prepared to be part of. She looked towards the captain, who watched the scene with an intense focus. Would she punish her subordinate for harming the pony, or let this continue?

Rarity’s ear twitched to the sound of a hiss. She blinked, looked around, but saw nothing. Everypony’s attention was on the ongoing incident.

The hiss came again, and this time Rarity followed it to some low bushes near the edge of the camp. She was startled to see a pair of eyes peering at her from within. Checking to make sure nopony or griffon would notice, she walked around the bushes and crouched down, effectively hidden from the others.

Brushing some branches aside, she gasped at a familiar sight. “Troublemaker! What are you doing here?”

The colt’s eyes darted about frantically. “I h-hid in the last wagon. They never noticed.”

Rarity sighed, glad to have at least one worry off her mind. “Your parents will be thrilled to know you’re not dead. Still, I don’t think your situation has gotten any better by coming with us.”

Troublemaker’s lips shifted into an uneasy smile. “Wanna bet?” He picked something off the ground with both hands: Silver Lining. With holster and ammunition bag.

Pulse quickening, Rarity’s felt a confusing wave of excitement and horror. She could do something! But then, she’d have to kill again, wouldn’t she? And for that matter… “It’s a grand thing you’ve done, and I appreciate it, but I don’t think I can save all the traders by myself.”

“You don’t have to.” He hurried to put the gun down and gestured in the general direction of the wagons. “I got others. I couldn’t get all the guns before we left, but I got most. We just gotta get them to the ponies.”

Humming, Rarity took a moment to glance around the bush. It appeared as though the incident had passed without further bloodshed. The griffon had gone off to talk to the others and the mare was getting treated for her injuries. How long before any of them noticed she was missing? She needed to get back and relay this information, but first…

She reached into the bush to hold the colt’s hand in one of her own. “Listen to me, Justice. You’ve been a very brave young stallion so far, but I need you to be brave for a little while longer. Do you think you can do that?”

He stared up at her with big eyes. His lip trembled. “I saw what they did to Saltwater. W-will they do that to anypony else? Will they h-hurt Ma and Pops?”

“No.” She reached her other hand in to rub his cheek. “No, they won’t. If you help me, then we can make sure they’ll never hurt another pony. But I need you to help me, okay?”

He hesitated, but met her gaze all the same. “You’re gonna make them pay, right?”

The question lanced through her. She stiffened, pursing her lips and fighting to keep her face neutral against the horror building within. He was asking for revenge. He expected her to exact that revenge. What could she possibly say that could encourage his morale while discouraging such unhealthy, violent ideas? She fought for some inspiration and prayed what she said next would sound wiser than she was feeling just then.

“Justice… I promise, we will free everypony. We will stop the griffons. We will beat them.” That didn’t encourage vengeance… right? “You help me, and we’ll get it done.” Oh, that sounded far more confident than she felt! She took a quick look around the bush.

Her breath hitched at the sight of the griffons forming a perimeter. She had maybe a minute before they were discovered. She squeezed Justice’s hand as she hurried to say, “I need an answer. Will you help me?”

He looked around as if expecting the griffons to be standing right behind him, and his voice shook, but he still said what she had hoped to hear.

“What do you need?”
> Episode 04: Birdbrains and Meatheads
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


23rd of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


“You know, I heard some things.”

Rarity cursed to herself. She had something very important to say to these ponies, but no sooner had her rump touched ground among the circle of prisoners did Cork Dry open his mouth. She couldn’t interrupt, couldn’t cause a scene. No matter what happened, she had to keep the griffons from being suspicious.

She had time. Troublemaker wouldn’t finish his work for a while yet. But keeping the secret to herself was a strain on her nerves. She needed to tell everypony her plan. Delicately, though. If she took things too quickly the others might react in a manner that would give them away. So she settled down, accepted one of the small bags of hay that had been handed out by the griffons, and listened.

Cork Dry eyed the griffons from over the heads of the ponies opposite him and spoke just loud enough to be heard. “Up north, in the Eerie Cliffs. They say griffons have been rounding up ponies to work on some big project hidden in the mountains. A project so big they couldn’t do it on their own even if they wanted to dirty their own talons.”

“What kind of project?” a mare asked warily.

“Don’t know. Story changes from place to place.” He munched on some hay for a moment before continuing. “Some say they’re trying to rebuild the old Grypha Kingdom, starting with a new Palace of Eagles. Others whisper of a great war machine powered by clouds and steam, destined to conquer all of Equestria.”

“I call bull,” a stallion grumbled from near Rarity. “Conquer Equestria. What’s there to conquer? And with some war machine? Ridiculous. More likely they’ve got some lucrative mining operation or something and would rather risk pony necks than their own.”

“I’m telling you, they’re building something out there.” Cork Dry lowered his head as one of the guards walked by, and a number of others did the same. Once the griffon had moved on, he spoke in an even more hushed voice. “Nopony can agree on what, but who cares? The real problem is how hard they work them. They wouldn’t keep kidnapping ponies if those ponies were surviving the work, right?”

While they muttered and mumbled amongst themselves, Rarity pondered the discussion. Indeed, why would the griffons need slaves? Had they kidnapped everypony in Firestone? That had to be at least a hundred ponies given the number of buildings. And if the rumors were right and the griffons had been kidnapping for some time, it had to be for something significant. The idea of dying in some labor camp or deep underground digging for gems left a gritty taste on her tongue. If she was going to dig up gems, she’d keep them to herself.

She could never allow herself to become a slave. No, she was going to get away, and so would these ponies. If she was lucky, she’d pull it off without anypony – or griffon – dying in the process. And then they could report the situation to ponies who could do something about it. Of course, that meant going to a city, and that meant being more easily spotted by the Apples.

She grimaced – One threat at a time, Rarity. – and refocused her attention on her fellow prisoners. Another guard was passing by, this one casting a suspecting scowl at the circle of ponies before moving on.

Hard Knocks glared at her fellow prisoners, body low and shoulders tensed. “I don’t care about why they got us, I care about what we’re gonna do about it. All this talk is useless if it doesn’t give us a way to escape.”

Nopony had anything to say to that, grumbling and sharing frustrated glances. Taking the opportunity, Rarity cast as subtle a glance around as she could before leaning forward. “I have a way.”

Every eye shot to her, and she cursed quietly under her breath. So much for subtlety.





Hours passed. Despite knowing that the signal to act could come at any time, many ponies got some sleep. After an entire day jogging across the Scorched Plains, none of them would be in any condition to fight without the rest. The griffons slept as well, but on a rotation so that at least two-thirds of them were always available to watch the ponies.

Rarity had tried sleeping. She might have gotten a half-hour. Her mind fretted too much, wondering if little Justice was up to his task. Who knew what the griffons would do if they caught him in the act? She kept watching the edge of the camp, looking for signs of his presence, but all that met her eyes was darkness.

But assuming he did pull this off, that was only the opening act. The ponies still had to perform properly. If anypony slipped up, there’d be chaos, it would be bloody, and they’d have her to blame. After all, it had been her plan.

Responsibility was not a strange concept to Rarity. One didn’t run a shop for six years with just good looks and a prayer. But she’d never wanted a responsibility as big as this. Past failures meant little more than a clothing order being late or a customer being unhappy with her dress. Now lives were at stake, and the idea that she’d bear the guilt of those losses made sleep a challenge.

She lay apart from the others, mostly to avoid the stallions. After Braeburn she wasn’t comfortable with… well, she wasn’t comfortable. After hours of tossing and turning in a bedroll that wasn’t her own – and she certainly didn’t want to think of who it had belonged to – she finally surrendered to inevitability and stood. She went to the fallen log, aware of the guards watching her every motion, and sat down. The loose canopy of trees cleared a little here, giving her a nice view of the night sky. Not much of a moon tonight, but it was mostly hidden behind the trees anyway. She whispered a quiet prayer to the Sisters that everything would work out.

She didn’t notice Swing Set until he was almost by her side. She moved over a little to give him room to sit beside her. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he’d had as much success in finding sleep as she had. The two remained quiet for a time, staring at the stars or watching the goings on of the camp. Rarity couldn’t help but think that things were too calm. Were the ponies being quiet because of nerves? Would that give away that they were up to something? Maybe the griffons were being quiet because they knew the ponies had a plan and were mentally preparing for a fight.

Oh, Sisters, if only she could call the whole thing off!

“Do you think Justice can do it?”

She glanced at Swing Set. He didn’t return the look, instead staring straight ahead with a solemn frown. A fresh wave of guilt washed over her. It was one thing to make a plan and get the adults to go along with it, but for Swing Set?

“I’m sorry,” she muttered with head bowed. “I shouldn’t have asked Justice to do it.”

He glanced at her, and there was an unpleasant look to his eyes. “I get why you did it. Just… maybe next time consult with his parents before giving him a life-or-death mission.”

“I saw an opportunity and took it.” She eyed the trees once more. Still no sign of the colt. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I should have thought about what I was doing.”

He sighed and crossed his arms. “It’s hard to think in the heat of the moment. It’s alright.”

She studied his scowling face. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. She turned away. “If things go well, I’ve come up with an ingenious plan to save us all. If things go wrong, I’ve killed your boy. I don’t think it’s right either way.”

Silence passed between them, sifting through the air like a fog. Rarity fidgeted, but kept herself from rubbing her necklace. Instead, she clasped her hands between her legs and let her boots bounce lightly on the ground. What was he thinking? Oh, what else? She might have killed his boy, that’s what he was thinking. No doubt. She couldn’t blame him for being mad. To a degree, she wanted him to be. She deserved it.

Her eyes kept darting to the area around the camp, seeking out even the tiniest hint of something moving in the bushes and darkness beyond. The guards ignored her, but the ponies that were still awake were casting around glances of their own.

The waiting was agonizing. Maybe Justice had already been found. Maybe the griffons were holding him, just waiting for morning to come so they could capitalize on the ponies’ anxiety and gloat. And then they’d march the ponies on to some horrible life of forced labor, where they’d all die of heatstroke or malnutrition or any of a million other things Rarity’s weary-yet-frantic mind could conjure up. She was so busy fighting back horrible visions of the future that she yelped when Swing Set’s hand touched her shoulder.

Thoughts of Braeburn brought her to slap his hand away, but she recovered quickly. As her heart found its way back into her chest, she met his gaze. He nodded towards the woods and she followed the motion with her eyes. An instant later, her heart was nestled back inside her throat.

An orange glow flickered through the trees. It grew brighter by the second, until all the ponies were staring at the scene as if in a daze. Rarity jumped to her hooves, mind instantly put on alert. He did it.

The slavers were shouting. Mild confusion shifted to horror as every pony and griffon realized what they were seeing: one of the wagons was ablaze. By now the illumination was such that Rarity could actually see it through the trees, and the other two wagons were starting to catch as well.

The Captain was up from her bedroll with startling speed, already barking orders. Her griffons reacted swiftly, first attempting to handle the flames themselves, then forcing ponies to help. And while all eyes were turned to the ever-rising fire, certain ponies were making mad dashes into the surroundings forest.

It was then Rarity realized that she should be running as well. Cursing her own delayed reaction, she scrambled over the log and made for a familiar bush. The griffons were shouting and making threats, thinking their prisoners were making a break for it. Not knowing how much time she had before they were on her, Rarity dropped to all fours by the bush. “Justice!”

Silver Lining and its holster were tossed out of the bush not a foot away from her hands. She snatched them up and hurried to put the belt on. “Stay in there and don’t come out until one of your parents comes for you!” Not waiting for an answer, she jumped to her hooves, pulled out the gun and turned for the camp, weapon already rising.

It stopped at the throat of a silver and blue griffon, who froze on the spot with wide eyes. Only the surprise of how lucky she’d been to have moved just so kept her from pulling the trigger. For what seemed an eternity, she stared into his bright green eyes. What she saw was a combination of terrible emotions: fear, shock, and an absolute certainty of death. If only the griffon knew just how her pulse raced. Were he to just glance down, he’d see her hand trembling.

The tree seemed to dance in the light of flame and the chaotic shadows. Shouts and threats filled the air. A hot wind blew through the undergrowth, making Rarity’s hair whip about. But she never stopped staring into those wide, expectant eyes. For an eternal moment, they were all she knew. Then, a single thought passed through her mind.

I am not a killer.

The world came back, and she tensed. For the first time since Spurhoof, Rarity felt sure of herself, and that certainty rang through in her words. “Turn around.”

Swallowing, the griffon did so, his claws raised high and his wings tucked tightly. He stood a full head taller than she did, but that didn’t stop his arms from trembling. “P-please don’t kill me.”

“Only if you make me.” She desperately hoped he wouldn’t make her. Looking into the camp, she saw griffons and ponies locked in combat. The griffons were outnumbered and only a few had guns. They weaved through the air in a complex, desperate dance to avoid the bullets the ponies were spraying at them from all angles. But the griffons weren’t retreating, nor did they appear afraid. If anything, they seemed as determined as ever to put down the rebellious prisoners.

Ponies and griffons lay bleeding on the ground. Mere seconds in, and already Rarity’s plan was a failure. She thought frantically for some way to stop the bloodshed before it got any worse. Her eyes fell on the back of her captive’s head. “Can you whistle? Loudly?”

“Whistle?” He glanced back at her, eyes reflecting the shine of the flames that were steadily growing out of control. “Y-yes?”

Rarity nodded towards the fighting. “Do it. Get their attention.”

He blinked, the soft edges of his beak curling in a confused frown, but then he turned forward and let out a shrill whistle that reverberated through the din. It was so loud that every pony and griffon paused to look at the disturbance.

Their eyes jolted Rarity, and she felt her knees wobble a little. I am not a killer. Her legs steadied.

“Listen to me!” To her surprise, it seemed they were doing exactly that. Oh, how she wished she had time to think about what to say! But if she didn’t speak right now, they’d go back to fighting, so she forced words out. “Griffons, you’re outgunned, and you can’t surprise us this time. There’s no point in fighting a lost cause. If you drop your weapons and leave now, there’s no need for any more of you to die.”

Some ponies shouted refusals. Anger burned in Rarity’s chest at their callousness. “Be quiet! Yes, we’ll win, but how many of us will die in the process? Let them keep their heads so we can all keep ours, and not just some of us!”

The prisoners-turned-fighters quieted at that. Although a few continued to glare at the griffons, most were casting worried glances at one another.

You’ve got them, Rarity. Keep talking and don’t screw this up. “Captain! This opportunity isn’t going to last much longer!”

The Captain, hovering over the scene and outlined by the light of the blaze, watched her with heavy-lidded eyes. After a moment, she tucked in her wings and landed heavily in the center of the camp. The others moved as if to encircle her, but she raised a lone claw to keep them at bay. She glanced around at the ponies and her own soldiers before meeting Rarity’s gaze with a piercing stare. “How do I know you won’t kill us the moment we’ve disarmed ourselves?”

To her own surprise, Rarity already had an answer. “Because even if we did, we’d never kill you all before some of us ended up dead. I don’t think anyone wants to die today.” She aimed that last bit at the ponies, giving them all a threatening look. To her relief, none of them appeared ready to argue.

The Captain considered this for a moment, her face shadowed by the growing flames that had expanded from the wagons to the nearby trees. “I think you underestimate our strength.”

The griffon that Rarity had at gunpoint finally found his panicky voice. “In the Sun’s name, Captain, just take the deal!” His lion’s tail flicked wildly at Rarity’s hooves. The anxious motions and the fear in his young voice left her feeling guilty, but she refused to lower her weapon lest she appear weak. If she could end this without another death... Think, Rarity. Think!

A fresh idea hit her. “How many griffons are in your Roost?” At the Captain’s renewed scowl, she pressed on. “I’m not an expert, but I do know the griffons aren’t doing well in these dark times. So how many do you have? A thousand? A few hundred? I would think that every griffon life is precious to your people.”

The Captain’s claws flexed as though in preparation for a strike. She cast another glance at the ponies surrounding her. Her eyes returned to Rarity, and they were cold despite the heat of the flames. “And I think you’re gambling. I think we can win. I think…” Her head twitched to the side, cocked as if listening.

Rarity heard it too, a sound like the rumble of thunder. Quiet at first, but slowly building. She cast her eyes around, trying to identify the source. She wasn’t the only one. Louder and louder the sound became, injecting griffon and pony alike with nervousness. Rarity looked up, but there was not a cloud to be seen through the sparse canopy and smoke.

The Captain went airborne. “Stampede!”

Massive figures burst from the darkness and foliage. Rarity gaped as the fur-covered creatures charged into the camp, each one dwarfing the griffons as veritable giants. Wielding spears, hatchets and daggers, they tore into the startled slavers. Any ponies unfortunate enough to be in the way were knocked aside like toothpicks.

Rarity gawked, her gun arm hanging limp at her side. Somewhere deep down, a calm voice explained that these big, brown, hairy things were buffalo, but that voice was practically drowned out by another at the forefront of her mind trying to come to terms with the sudden assault. The people of the plains hooted and brayed like wild beasts as their weapons spilled griffon blood, and the sight of the gore had her covering her mouth lest she lose what little supper she’d had.

As the shadows and flames danced and the blood splattered the dry grass, Rarity’s thoughts finally coalesced into a single firm idea: I have to protect Justice! She whipped around, took two running steps—

Something grabbed her from behind. Rarity could only shriek as her boots left the ground and her stomach fell. Within a blink, she dangled over the trees. Within another, she soared over the scrublands of the Scorched Plains. She squirmed and tried to look back, but couldn’t manage it with the strong arms holding her up from under her shoulders.  Wind whistled in her ears and her hair flew wildly as understanding dawned upon her.

She looked up, the back of her head pressing against a feathered chest. The blue and silver griffon, the one she’d been holding at gunpoint. Her voice cracked as she shouted over the wind. “Put me down this instant!”

He looked down, his head moving with a jerky suddenness that reminded her of a bird’s swift motions. He tried to glare, but his wide, fear-filled eyes betrayed him. “Stop squirming or I’ll drop you.”

Quickly realizing the reality of that statement, Rarity stiffened her arms and prayed he wouldn’t lose his hold. The position was extremely uncomfortable, with his thin arms snaking under her armpits and her legs dangling freely in the wind, but she didn’t dare try to fix that problem. “W-what do you intend to do with me?”

He blinked, then looked around as if in search of inspiration. “I, uh, don’t know.”

Images of the buffalo storming the camp, their weapons glistening with blood in the firelight, brought her breath short. “Y-you have to take me back! I have to help the others!”

He made a squawking noise. “Look, lady, buffalo kill griffons on sight. I ain’t going nowhere near that area right now.”

Another voice rang from the darkness. “Private Fleetfeather!”

The private turned a slow circle that made Rarity’s stomach roil. She looked up in time to see three more griffons closing in. The leader of the flight, a copper-colored male, came alongside them. The private chirped out a rapid, “Lieutenant! I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“Same to you, Private.” He eyed Rarity with a piercing gaze. “Good work catching the ringleader of those rebelling prisoners. At least we won’t return to the Roost empty-clawed.”

“Return?” Private Fleetfeather looked over his shoulder. “What about the others? The captain?”

The other two griffons flanked them, one a dark pink that made her obvious even in the darkness and the other a soft green. Green said, “Captain gave orders for all survivors to head for the mountains. Her, Gallows and Needlebeak are sweeping the area for more strays. We’ll meet up with her at the Dragon’s Snout.”

Rarity grimaced and kicked her legs. “Excuse me, but I have no intention of joining you!”

“Shut it,” Pink growled, having a startlingly deep voice. “You’ve been enough trouble already, witch. I have half a mind to cut your tongue out.”

“Don’t hurt her, Ribbons.” The lieutenant snapped his beak, perhaps for emphasis. “She’s got all the makings of a quality broodmare, which makes her worth twenty of those mules we had back at camp.”

Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. A broodmare? Her? What kind of barbarians was she dealing with? Hard labor was one thing, but to be subjected to such immodest, foul treatment filled her veins with ice.

She gazed down to find nothing but darkness below. Oh Luna, just how high was she? But she couldn’t let them take her. Maybe if she just winged the private, he’d be forced to descend. She might have a chance. She still had Silver Lining in hand, after all. If she could just find a way…

Talons wrapped around her wrist. “I’ll take that.”

“No!” She tightened her hold on the gun. It didn’t matter, for within seconds the supple, strong claws had loosened her grip. Silver Lining disappeared from sight and she cursed; what would it take to keep that gun on her person? “You won’t get away with this!”

“Put a sock in it,” Green groused.

No amount of squirming loosened the private’s hold on her. Rarity soon went limp, realizing that she was stuck, and stared at the darkness below. Her fears accumulated – of their height, of Fleetfeather’s grip, of her gloomy future – to settle upon her like a curtain. She blinked away tears that streamed cold on her cheeks. Why were things like this happening to her? Was fate just having a laugh at her expense?

A broodmare. She tried to imagine it, a life doing nothing but having her legs forcibly spread for whatever eager stallion might come along, spending her days waiting as her bastard foals grew in her belly. Would they keep her in some cage, an animal to be prodded and led around on a leash? The stuff of nightmares.

She should be in Manehattan right now.

No, she should be in Mooisville. Her thoughts turned to her family. She prayed none of them would ever find out what became of their lost daughter. Had Coco become an apprentice to somepony else yet? She dearly hoped so. Maybe her sacrifice was payment for Coco’s good fortune. She prayed to Luna that it would be so.

And Troublemaker. That annoying, adorable little colt. Did he get away from the fighting unscathed? What about his parents? Celestia, Luna, please, don’t let my actions bring their deaths.

With nothing left to do, she closed her eyes and tried not to think of the life that lay ahead of her.





Rarity had fallen asleep. She couldn’t imagine how, given how sore her arms were from being stuck in the same awkward position for what had to have been hours, but the sudden awareness of sunlight left her with little doubt. It was nothing compared to the ache in her legs. She blinked away the drowsiness, yawned, and took a look around. She was still being carried by Private Fleetfeather, and she had to begrudgingly admire his perseverance. The other three griffons flew around them, the lieutenant taking up the lead as they travelled in a triangular pattern.

Shaking her head to clear the last of the cobwebs from her mind, Rarity looked down. The Scorched Plains stretched beneath her, moving along at what seemed like a lethargic pace. Then she saw their shadows darting across the landscape and realized two things: first, that they were moving far faster than it seemed, and second, that they were lower than before. Despite that second realization, the height still made her insides coil like snakes, and she promptly turned her eyes forward.

The edge of the plains appeared clearly before her in the form of the Dragon’s Teeth. The range only appeared more akin to their namesake from up high, their peaks jutting into the air like knives in a blue sea. One in particular pierced the sky at a shallow angle and had some odd formations atop it. If she used her imagination, she thought it looked not unlike the face of a great lizard. Dragon’s Snout, indeed.

With a sigh, she tried shifting to ease the pain in her shoulders. Private Fleetfeather wobbled, which made her freeze. “Umm, what are the chances of your arms getting tired and dropping me before we touch down?”

“Ah, she’s awake,” the private grumbled. “Very high if you keep moving around like that. I can’t even feel my arms above the elbows anymore.”

She scowled up at him. “And how do you think my arms feel?” When he said nothing, she pouted and looked towards the mountains once more. “This is a fine thanks for sparing your life.”

He grunted. “Not my fault you’re so dumb.”

“Well, perhaps next time I’ll just pull the trigger and be done with you.”

His arms shifted, perhaps to reaffirm his hold on her, and she felt the snakes coil inside her stomach once more. “Maybe,” he replied wearily, “but somehow I don’t think you’re ever getting your hands on a gun again.”

Perhaps the sleep had revitalized Rarity’s hope for the future, or maybe she was just trying to put on a show for some unknowable gain. She couldn’t be certain, but even so, she shot the private a glare. “I won’t be made a sex slave to your Roost, you foul cretin.”

“Would you shut up?” This from the pink griffon, who flew to match Rarity’s height and closed in with a scowl. “You shouldn’t be talking to us anyway. Learn your place, broodmare, or we’ll educate you.”

“I doubt any of you monsters could grasp a proper education if it hit you in your beaks.” She turned up her muzzle at the griffon with a snort. “All I can see is uncivilized barbarians.”

“That’s it, I’m cutting her legs off.”

Rarity sucked in a sharp breath and looked down at her dangling boots. It had been little more than an instinctual reaction, a strange need to check them. She was just in time to see something odd. Those bushes moved. Something rose up from beneath them. Three somethings, with some sort of long contraption spread among them. The one in the back of the triangle formation released the device, and from it flew a narrow object. Rarity followed its sharp, nearly straight path with wide eyes.

“What’s the matter, pony?” The pink griffon hissed and reached for her leg. “Griffon got your—” He let out a sound somewhere between a choke and a grunt as the object, now recognizable as a spear longer than Rarity was tall, pierced his side. It stopped with the point poking out the other side of him, and the griffon fell to earth without a sound.

Rarity watched him fall in stunned silence… then noticed a dozen more spears had gone airborne. “Look out!”

The lieutenant shouted at the same time as Rarity. “Ballistae!”

The griffons scattered as the deadly projectiles filled the air. Rarity yelped and tucked her legs in to avoid one of the bolts even as her insides wiggled with the sudden motions. Private Fleetfeather bobbed and weaved in a chaotic aerial dance, squawking and grunting with effort. Even through her desperate efforts not to lose the contents of her stomach, Rarity noticed his grip on her slipping.

“Higher!” screamed the green griffon. “Get higher, out of range!” He tucked his wings in and dropped, a bolt swishing through the air where he’d been not a second earlier.

“I’m trying,” growled the private, flapping his wings harder as a bolt barely missed his legs – and Rarity’s stomach.

Rarity grasped at his arms with clutching fingers, but his scales proved difficult to get a firm grip on. “Why is it things keep trying to kill me?”

“Stop whining and hold…” Private Fleetfeather swore. “Smooze Flak!”

The silliness of that phrase jolted Rarity momentarily out of her fear and nausea. “What?”

A large black ball decorated with purple swirls rose up just ahead of them. The private tried to turn away, but clearly wasn’t fast enough. Rarity closed her eyes, fully expecting the great orb to smash into her. Instead, there was a click, and then a ‘fwoosh’ sound. A sour smell like spoiled grapes hit her nostrils, and she opened her eyes to a world of purple cloud. She closed her lips as tight as she could, some deep instinct telling her that breathing the stuff wouldn’t be in her best interest.

They passed through the strangely colored smoke, and Rarity could already tell something was wrong. Coated in purple dust, she felt her stomach jump up with her heart as the ground rapidly grew closer. She looked up to see the private covered completely in the dust and flapping wildly in a desperate bid to gain altitude. He grunted, groaned, cursed, and finally shouted, “I can’t stay up!”

“We’re coming, Private!” The green griffon darted through the air, no longer having to dodge the bolts. “Hold on, we’ve got you!”

“Drop the pony!” The lieutenant was in a rapid dive and closing fast. “Drop her, Private!”

Rarity looked down at the ground and yelped. “No, don’t drop her!”

She looked up, pleading with her eyes. Fleetfeather looked down, beak wide and fear in his gaze. A second passed as he considered the proposition, and Rarity was sure he would let go. Then his brow furrowed and he clicked his beak shut. He reaffirmed his grip on her arms, talons drawing trickles of blood, and spread his wings wide. They caught air, but the purple-coated feathers were being ripped away in a steady stream as they continued to drop.

“Damn it, Private, I gave you an order!” The lieutenant caught up and grabbed Fleetfeather’s shoulders. “I can’t carry you both! Drop her or we’re all going down!”

Fleetfeather ignored the command and kept his wings spread, hissing through his beak as tears streamed from his eyes. Rarity looked down and saw the earth coming quick. Their descent was slowing, but not quickly enough. Bracing, she tucked her knees to her chest and closed her eyes for the hit.

She smacked the ground hip-first, crying out as Fleetfeather’s claws ran up her arms before he mercifully let go. She rolled and bounced in the dirt and dry grass, keeping her body in a ball as best she could despite the pain and dizziness. She finally came to a stop on her side, her entire body aching and blood dripping from her arms. Hissing, she opened her eyes to find the world spinning.

Gingerly, she climbed to her hands and knees, but didn’t trust herself to get to her hooves. A shake of the head failed to clear it.

Animal-like calls filled the air. The earth began to rumble beneath her. Her pulse raced as she looked up to see a band of buffalo at least two dozen strong charging her. She stumbled in her attempt to stand, fell to her haunches, and turned while still on the ground. Private Fleetfeather lay nearby, apparently unconscious, and the lieutenant was just climbing to his paws. One of his wings hung limp, but he stood his ground over the fallen private with claws at the ready.

The world trembled, and Rarity covered her head with her arms in hopes that they’d provide her some feeble protection against the coming trampling. The hooves beat like thunder until they were a crescendo of chaotic clamor. Then, through her fear, Rarity realized that the noise was coming from all around. She opened her eyes and dared to look up.

They were going around her. Dust filled the air and made her cough violently, yet not a single buffalo touched her. Within seconds, they’d passed her up entirely. As her heart steadily dropped back to its proper place in her chest, she dared to get to her knees.

The massive buffalo had the lieutenant surrounded. They stomped their hooves while hooting and bellowing, spears and daggers glinting in the sunlight, but none moved forward to challenge the griffon. Rarity could just make out the lieutenant’s grim face amongst the dust and swaying bodies. To Rarity it seemed he knew exactly what his oppressors were up to and was prepared to meet it head on.

A gunshot cracked the air like a thunderclap, and one of the massive warriors collapsed in a heap. The rest of the buffalo scattered, shouting and waving their weapons towards the source of the sound. Rarity turned to see the green griffon soaring at them from just above their reach, and in his talons…

Rarity, all dizziness and pain forgotten, leapt to her hooves. “Get your filthy claws off my gun, you thief!”

He ignored her, coming to a hover over the lieutenant and firing another shot seemingly at random. “Back, you animals! Get back! We’re walking out of here, and if any of you so much as take one step closer I swear I’ll blast the heads off every last one of you!”

Something like a distant buzzing sounded in Rarity’s ears. Her blood boiled at the sight of Silver Lining being used by that reprobate, and she stomped a few steps closer. “You will do no such thing! Give that back, now!”

The griffon finally noticed her, as did the buffalo. He scowled and pointed the gun right at her. “This is your fault. You I’ll kill for the fun of it.”

Silver Lining fired.

Rarity had been caught mid step, and the impact knocked her off her hooves. Her eyes went wide, her breath left her. The world swam, and before she knew it she was on her back, staring at the blue sky. Seconds passed in silence. Her mind grasped at the logic of what had just happened, struggling for every stray thought. He’d shot her. The foul creature had shot her with her own gun. What kind of drifter lets herself be shot with her own gun?

Then, another thought came to mind: Why doesn’t it hurt?

Realization came quickly, and she reached up to feel at her blouse. There was a tiny hole… right over the necklace. Her eyes watered as the air finally flew back into her lungs. Thank you, Coco. Wincing at the soreness in her entire body, she gradually sat up.

The collected audience gasped, and she glanced up in worry. Every mouth hung loose, every shoulder limp. All eyes were set upon her. Even the green griffon gawked at the sight of her.

Rarity looked around, hand still on the necklace. She suddenly felt very small. “Um, why is everyone staring at me?”

Greenie pointed at her with a single talon. “Y-you’re supposed to be dying. Why aren’t you dying?”

Of course. They didn’t know about the necklace. Rarity hunched back and tried to think of some excuse that didn’t involve giving away the existence of one of her most prized possessions. “I… Well, I g-guess I’m just made of strong stuff?” She tittered, the sound hollow in her folded ears.

The griffon grimaced and aimed Silver Lining at her once more. “Let’s see how strong that stuff is.”

Rarity’s mind kicked into overdrive. She started to move, to bank on good luck and a herd of buffalo warriors to save her life.

She didn’t even manage to get on her hooves before the griffon jerked forward with a squawk and dropped like a stone. He hit the ground face first, and Rarity stared wide-eyed at the arrow sticking out of the back of his neck. Standing behind him, over the body of the lieutenant, was a young buffalo cow with a bow. Smaller than the others by at least half their height, Rarity guessed she couldn’t be more than sixteen.

Even as Rarity relaxed, a few thoughts struck her at once. What was a girl barely old enough to not be called a calf doing with all these warriors? Did she intend to shoot Rarity next? Why were they all still staring at her? Was Fleetfeather dead? And how—?

All questions fled her mind as the young cow walked closer, for Rarity’s eyes had settled upon something shimmering in the sunlight. It was a bronze necklace with some kind of spherical gem in its center, a white gem with just the faintest hints of red.

It looks exactly like mine.

In her stupor, Rarity failed to realize that the buffalo now surrounded her. The young cow stood at the edge of the circle, arrow nocked and aimed at Rarity’s head. But she didn’t fire, and so Rarity had to assume they were weighing their options. She glanced around, feeling like a bug amongst so many hairy giants. They towered over her, faces seemingly made of bronze and painted in blues, reds and blacks. Some gazed at her in wonder and awe, others with lowered eyebrows and suspecting frowns, and they were all murmuring to one another.

Then, one of their number stepped forth from Rarity’s left. While no taller than his neighbors, he wore a long, thick cape of silver scales and a helm that appeared to have been made of the skull of a sand lizard. Like all the others, his body was all tanned muscle and thick brown fur. A long scar marred his left side under the arm, though it only served to accentuate his ruggedness. The lines on his face suggested an individual too old to be considered young, but also too young to be considered old. He stared down at Rarity with hard but inquisitive eyes.

He spoke, and his voice was a lot softer than his rock-hard shape might suggest. “How did you survive the shot?”

Rarity hesitated, her eyes drifting to the young cow’s necklace. Its owner sneered and pulled the string of her bow taught. “Answer him!”

Realizing that lying would more than likely get her killed – and acknowledging that she had no good ideas for how to lie to them – Rarity sighed and pointed at the cow. “That is how.”

All eyes turned to the youth, whose eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“Not you.” Rarity set her fingers to her neck in demonstration. “Your necklace. I have one exactly like it under my shirt.”

She was answered with fresh gasps, then the buffalo erupted in shouting.

“Another one?”

“Impossible!”

“But it might be true.”

“Blasphemy! We should kill her and be done with it!”

“Lies!” The young cow stomped a few steps closer, her muscles tensing as she aimed the arrow at Rarity’s chest. “Only the Scorched Tribes possess the Mark, and there is only one!”

Despite the arrowhead pointed at her, Rarity snorted and turned to face the youth properly. “I don’t know what a ‘mark’ is, but I am not a liar. I would love to know how you got something so unique!”

“That is not for an outsider to know!”

“Everyone, calm down.” The leader in his cape stepped over to set his hand on the young one’s shoulder. “Relax, Little Strongheart. Let us not be too hasty.”

“But Uncle—!”

“Enough.” He reached out and grasped the shaft of the arrow. “We will hear what she has to say before casting judgement.”

Little Strongheart shook where she stood, lips working in quiet grumbles, but she finally backed off and lowered her bow. “The Elders say there’s only one. She must be lying.”

“The Elders say there’s only one in the Scorched Plains,” her uncle corrected in a lecturing tone. He turned to Rarity, appearing no more friendly or threatening than he had when he’d first arrived. “Might we see this necklace, pony?”

Heat flowed into Rarity’s cheeks and she promptly wrapped her arms around myself. “W-well, it’s under my shirt. You wouldn’t ask a lady to take off her clothing in front of all these gentlebison, would you?” Was gentlebison the right word?

The leader gave a wan smile. “Then allow us to respect your dignity.” He turned away, and all the others did as well.

All except Little Strongheart, who gasped and raised her bow once more. “Uncle! She might try to run away!”

He glanced at her. “Are you suggesting you wouldn’t be able to hit a moving target? I had no idea you’d let your skills wane so.”

Little Strongheart’s face turned hot pink, and Rarity thought she might have even seen a little steam come out of her ears. The young buffalo leveled her arrow at Rarity once more, brown eyes like steel. “I’m watching her.”

“You are female,” her uncle replied nonchalantly. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t.”

All these males, and her being asked to open her shirt. The very idea brought an uncomfortable tingle between her thighs. Rarity slowly stood, eyeing the arrowhead warily. She turned a slow circle, confirming that none of the buffalo other than Little Strongheart were watching. She also sought out potential escape routes, but the effort proved fruitless. They had her completely surrounded, and there could be no doubt that they’d catch her before she took two steps, assuming Little Strongheart didn’t put an arrow in her chest before then.

When had her life come to this? A prisoner bound for slavery, negotiating with a griffon, sent flying across the plains, becoming the target of low-tech anti-air artillery, and now being forced to strip in a circle of young buffalo warriors. Whatever happened to her simple life?

Oh. Right. Braeburn.

“Hurry up, pony!”

Rarity scowled at Little Strongheart, but bit back her retort. With no other option and keeping a sharp eye open for peepers, she carefully opened the top half of her shirt and reached into the makeshift pouch. She pulled the necklace out, holding it up in one hand while the other tugged her shirt closed once more. “Here, you see? Just like yours.”

The leader turned his head just slightly. “May we?”

A problem presented itself to Rarity, who looked to her shirt and then the necklace. Grumbling, she raised her palm towards Little Strongheart. “One moment. Don’t shoot, I am merely using my magic to button my shirt back up.” And she did so, watching as her aura handled the buttons with practiced finesse. As soon as the last button was done, she gave a self-satisfied nod. “Now you may look.”

The males all turned, and the gasps came back with a vengeance at the sight of her necklace. She carefully set it around her neck before standing proudly before them. A familiar voice in the back of her mind giggled at the thought of being the center of so much attention, but the more pragmatic part of her remained at the forefront and kept her stoic, reminding her that that attention was coming from males.

The leader sucked in a sharp breath and gestured to his niece. “Let us compare.” He and the girl stepped close to eye the necklace. The massive buffalo had to drop to one knee and hunch over to properly do so, whereas Little Strongheart – standing at about Rarity’s height – needed only bend forward a little. The heat returned to Rarity cheeks as she tried hard not to think of it as them ogling her breasts.

A moment of tense silence passed. Little Strongheart, her eyebrows disappearing beneath her sandy locks, whispered, “It… it must be a fake. It’s not even the right color.”

Color? Rarity glanced down to discover that the gem on her necklace had gained just the faintest hint of purple. When had that happened?

Little Strongheart’s uncle wore a thoughtful frown, one hand rubbing the fur of his collarbone as he studied the gem. His pose was almost comical given his mass. After a few seconds, he glanced up at Rarity. “What is your name?”

She straightened her shoulders and held her head high. “It is Rarity Belle.”

“And where did you come by this Mark, Rarity Belle?”

Little Strongheart’s heated stare made her hesitate, but only for a moment. “It was a parting gift from a friend of mine. She gave it to me for good luck.”

Slowly, he stood up to his full height. “And her?”

Her? Oh, he meant Coco. “She told me it was a gift to her from her late mother. Where her mother acquired it, I do not know.”

While he seemed to ponder this, Little Strongheart maintained her glare. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

With an exasperated sigh, Rarity raised her arms high. “What would I gain by lying about this?”

“I don’t know,” the young cow snapped. “What would you?”

Groaning, Rarity pointed to her. “Where did you get yours, then?”

“I earned it,” she snarled. “I won the Mark in trials of blood and fire, being named by the Elders of the Plains as the bravest and greatest warrior of the tribes! What have you done to earn yours, pony?”
 
Rarity sucked in a sharp breath. Trial of blood and fire? Greatest warrior? She glanced over Strongheart’s shoulder at the dead griffons and felt a need to step back, although she resisted. “You hardly seem old enough for that kind of thing, but I don’t doubt your skill.”

Little Strongheart snorted. “I wouldn’t expect a feeble pony to understand.” She turned sharply to her uncle. “She’s clearly not worthy of a Mark! We should take it back to the Elders.”

He eyed her with a disdaining frown. “You forget your place, young one. The Mark determines its bearer, not us. Do not speak low of another bearing a Mark when your own has yet to accept you.”

The young cow flinched as if physically struck. Her lips peeled back to bare her teeth, but she replied only by shouldering her bow and stalking off, hands balled into fists.

Her uncle sighed and turned back to Rarity. “Forgive her, she is young. I am Pounding Sands, Son of Warm Breezes. I ask you, Rarity Belle, are you here with the trade caravan currently south of us?”

Little Strongheart’s behavior forgotten, Rarity clasped her hands together as hope blossomed within. “Why, yes! I was traveling to the Plains with them. Are they alright?”

Shrugging, Pounding looked to the south as if he expected to see something in the far distance. “I would not know. The rest of my war herd intended to ambush the griffons. We hid here, aware that those that retreated would likely come this way. We will need to hide soon to ensure the next group of stragglers do not see us. I can only assume our ambush was successful, but that does not mean anything regarding the ponies.”

Rarity’s good cheer faded a touch at that. “What do you mean?”

His eyes settled upon her. “The griffon is our foe, but we do not welcome ponies either. They are a destructive and violent people, and we cannot allow them to roam our lands when we are already busy fending off the flying invaders. While we do not go out of our way to harm ponies, neither do we avoid it if they are between us and the enemy.”

“B-but, they were prisoners!” Rarity raised her hands in an imploring gesture. “They were trading with a town on the border, and then they planned to travel along the Teeth to Mareami in the east. It was not their intention to trespass, the griffons made them do it!”

He shrugged once more and turned away, this time to look upon the dead griffons. “I wouldn’t worry too much. We are not in the habit of taking prisoners or killing needlessly. Your friends will likely be brought back to our borders and simply asked to not come back.”

She followed his gaze, watching as his fellow warriors began inspecting the griffons. While the others had moved away as if not interested anymore, she couldn’t help but note how they were eyeing her when they thought she couldn’t see. She frowned and tried not to think about it, rubbing the necklace absentmindedly. “I suppose that’s the best I could hope for.”

“And what about you?”

She craned her neck back to look up at him. “Me?”

He did not return her gaze, instead watching as the other buffalo went to work resetting their hideaways. Rarity noted with curiosity that they were blankets covered in dirt and local flora. Only now did she notice that the ‘ballistae’ used to attack the griffons were little more than what appeared to be giant bands strapped to wood. The buffalo hurried to cover them once more with tall shrubs.

Pounding’s soft voice broke her out of her quiet inspection. “You said you were traveling here, but I heard nothing about leaving.”

“Oh.” This could be trouble. If ponies weren’t welcome in the Scorched Plains, would they force her back out too? As much so she wanted to argue the point, a quick glance around reminded her that she was vastly outnumbered. If she said something to offend…

Minding her words, she spoke slowly. “I am… seeking a new place to call home. I thought I might settle here.”

“Here?” He at last turned to her, peering beneath thick eyebrows. “The Plains are inhospitable for ponies at the best of times, and judging by your manner of speaking, you are hardly a pony accustomed to such rough living.”

Rarity pursed her lips and set hands to hips. “I’ll adapt. I—”

Two buffalo came up to them, interrupting the conversation by their sheer presence. They easily held Private Fleetfeather between them. The griffon hung limply, head lolling with their motions and his paws dangling more than a foot over the brown grass. “This one is still alive. How shall we end him?”

Pounding snorted and turned away. “I care not for the death of an honorless griffon. Do with him what you will.”

Rarity’s heart skipped a beat and she leapt forward. “Wait! You can’t kill him!”

The two buffalo shared raised eyebrows. “We can’t?” one asked with genuine confusion.

“No!”

Little Strongheart was on the scene an instant later, appearing seemingly from nowhere and pointing an accusing finger at Rarity. “Ah-ha! You hear that, Uncle? She’s protecting our enemy! In league with them, no doubt.”

With a grumble that Rarity swore made the nearby rocks shake, Pounding rubbed his forehead with both hands. “And why should we spare the life of such a foul creature?”

She stood between him and Fleetfeather and set her hands on her hips. “You say he has no honor and that he is ‘foul,’ but he still saved my life. He—”

Little Strongheart stamped her hoof. “That just proves you’re working with them!”

Pounding’s eyebrow twitched and his face grew even more stony than before. He spoke in an even tone that failed to keep his frustration entirely hidden. “Child, if you do not cease these petty interruptions I will be forced to speak to your grandfather when we return to the tribe.”

Ears flying straight, Little Strongheart took a wary step back. She gaped at her uncle for a second, two, then slumped. “Fine, but I reserve the right to say I warned you about her.” She cast Rarity a vicious scowl even as she spoke in an exaggeratedly polite tone. “Do go on, Rarity Belle of the Griffons.”

Nothing would have pleased Rarity more than to put the young cow in her place, but she forced her anger back down her throat. She had more important things to deal with, starting with making sure they didn’t kill Fleetfeather. With her priorities reaffirmed, she focused her attention on Pounding Sands. “Ahem, as I was saying: this griffon could have let me go when he was hit by that… erm… ‘smooze.’ If he had, his companions would have caught him and they might have escaped. Instead, he chose to risk his own life to ensure I landed safely. He acted courageously. Surely such behavior should be rewarded, and I do not believe his life is too much to ask.”

Pounding hummed and rubbed the fur on his collar, which must have been some sort of habit of his. He noted Little Strongheart bouncing from hoof to hoof and making little gestures with her hands. With an eyebrow raised, he nodded.

“But she’s only a pony!” She pointed at Rarity once more. “Who cares if he saved her? They’re our enemies, and they wouldn’t lift a talon to save any of us. Why should we spare him because he spared her?”

Rarity frowned at her. “Maybe it shows they aren’t as terrible as you think they are.”

“That’s—” Strongheart froze, casting a wary glance at her uncle. He smiled and nodded. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Saving the life of one pony does not make him one of Celestia’s Saints.”

Crossing her arms, Rarity smirked. “But it does suggest they have a sense of morality.”

Strongheart opened her mouth, closed it, then scrunched her face up in thought. Then she threw her hands up. “Okay, maybe it does. So what? They’re still our enemy!”

“I’ve heard enough.” Pounding raised a palm, forestalling the rest of Strongheart’s objection before it could go beyond a syllable. “We certainly can’t trust this griffon, but if what Rarity Belle says is true then we should be open minded. We’ll take the griffon to face the Elder. Let him determine the creature’s fate.”

Where Rarity expected Strongheart to react with shock, what she saw instead was a leer. “Oh, Grandpa will never let some catbird live. Fine, let’s do it.”

Her confidence chinked Rarity’s own. Her fingers fretted with her mane as Fleetfeather was carried away. When he was lost among the shrubs, she turned to Pounding. “If that’s the case, then let me come as well.”

He shook his head. “That will not be possible. Even if you bear a Mark, ponies are not allowed to remain. You are not a prisoner, and so you will be escorted back to the mountains.”

“What? But who will speak in Fleetfeather’s defense? How can he be given a fair trial?”

“Trial?” Strongheart laughed. “Buffalo don’t do trials, pony!”

“B-but that’s ridiculous!” Rarity balled her hands into fists and leaned towards the herd leader, heat building in the back of her mind. “How does this earn him a fair chance?”

Pounding didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. “I suggest you get your gun. We’ll provide you with enough provisions to cross the mountains and reach the nearest town on the other side.”

Snarling, Rarity grabbed her necklace and thrust it at him. “What about this? It seems important to your people. Won’t the Elder want to know about it?”

“And he will,” he replied calmly. “We’ll tell him.” He turned and walked away without another word.

His offhand response and dismissal left her dumbfounded, staring at his retreating back and fumbling for something to reply with. She looked down at her necklace, half hoping she’d find some sort of answer in its lavender gem. “I thought…”

Little Strongheart snorted and giggled. “Yeah, your bird friend’s gonna die. Nothing you can do about it, pony.”

Pounding called from a distance, “Warrior Strongheart! Escort Rarity Belle out of the Scorched Plains.”

A sound not unlike air being sucked down a reed rose from the young buffalo’s throat. Her eyes boggled and she spun on her heel to gape at her uncle. “You want me to what? That’ll take ages!”

“That was an order, Warrior!”

She sputtered and shook, hands balled into fists once more. After nearly a minute of this, her head snapped towards Rarity. “Get your crap and let’s go. If you’re not ready in five minutes, I’m dragging you by that ugly purple tail!”

As much as the devious side of her wanted to relish Little Strongheart’s frustration, Rarity was too busy worrying about Fleetfeather. True, the griffon had been one of her kidnappers, and yes, he’d tried to bring her back to his Roost to serve as a broodmare slave. But when she recalled that moment of descent, when he’d been given the option of letting go… She’d seen his eyes. She’d seen him weigh the choice of her life over his own.

He could have let go. From a practical standpoint, he probably should have.

But he didn’t. That made all the difference in the world.

Nodding to herself, Rarity located the herd leader and jogged to him. “Pounding Sands, if I could but have one more moment?”

He finished giving orders to the three warriors before him, then turned to her. “Please be quick. The next flight of griffons could be upon us at any time.”

She nodded. “I know you won’t let me go to speak on Fleetfeather’s behalf, but please tell me: is there anything I can do, anything at all, to help his odds of getting out of this alive?”

Pounding Sands said nothing for a time. He studied her with his stony face unreadable. Not a smile or a frown, not even a twitch of an eye gave away his thoughts. When he finally answered, he did so slowly, as if to emphasize his words.

“I do not know you, Rarity Belle. Your passion for the fate of one who should be your foe tells me that you are an honorable and gentle soul. I do not believe the Scorched Plains is the best place for one such as you. You would do well to return to the place from which you came. The untamed lands – be they here or those in the north – will try to rip that goodness away from you, and I would think this world a lesser place for the loss.”

A fresh fire bloomed in Rarity’s cheeks, and she promptly turned her gaze to his hooves. For a group of creatures she’d so long thought of as rubes and illiterates, it seemed the buffalo had a way with words. She would need to rethink her perspective on the people outside of civilization, it seemed.

He continued before she could formulate a proper response. “I assure you that I will personally give the Elder the most accurate and unbiased interpretation of events that I may, and will certainly make note of your wishes. That is the most I can offer you, but do not think it insubstantial.”

He turned away once more. “Now go. I apologize for making my fireball of a niece your escort, Rarity Belle of the Bulletproof Heart.”

Realizing she would get nothing more from him – and not wanting to see if Little Strongheart would honor her threat – Rarity went in search of Silver Lining. Her eyes scanned the ground, but her heart wasn’t into the activity. Pounding’s warning echoed in her ears. Go home, he said. If only she could. She’d run back to her parents and little sister in a heartbeat.

“Here.”

Silver Lining was thrust into her chest. She took it in both hands and looked up to find Little Strongheart’s glare. Despite that, Rarity nodded and thanked her.

“Don’t thank me,” the young cow snarled. “I just don’t want you wasting the next hour looking for the stupid thing.” She dropped a leather pack to the ground between them. “There. Food and water. Now let’s go.”

With a sigh, Rarity grabbed the pack and slung it over her shoulder before following in Strongheart’s wake. The little buffalo stomped with every step, grumbling under her breath. Rarity took a glance behind and found nothing but nearly barren scrublands behind her; the buffalo had disappeared as quickly as they’d arrived. Their ability to hide in such an open space was nothing short of extraordinary, especially considering how big they all were.

Well, almost all. With Little Strongheart too disgruntled to make for a decent conversationalist, Rarity resorting to checking her supplies. The bag was filled with three loaves of bread and a pair of large waterskins. Not much, but she imagined it would get her across the mountains. Yes, she’d go back, for what was the point of trying to stay in the Scorched Plains if any buffalo she encountered would simply force her out? At least that’s all they would do, compared to those terrible griffons!

But where would she go afterwards? She couldn’t stay in whatever town she’d end up in. The Bad Apples would surely track her there in time, so it was in her best interest to keep moving. Perhaps she should go to Mareami after all.

“Hey, pony! Keep up, will you?”

Little Strongheart was bouncing from hoof to hoof. Rarity eyed her energetic motions. “I beg your pardon?”

“If we run, we can get to the edge of the mountains before nightfall.”

Groaning, Rarity slung her bag over her shoulder once more. “I don’t think so. My legs still ache after spending an entire day being marched by the griffons.”

The cow snorted and rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a pansy, pony.”

Rarity snorted right back. “Excuse me, but as you are so eager to observe with every other sentence, I am indeed a pony, not a buffalo. You might have the ability to go stampeding all over these dreadfully hot plains all day long, but I do not. I’ve been nearly killed several times in the last twenty four hours alone, had to run to the limits of my endurance, spent very little sleep last night, planned a—”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” Little Strongheart ceased her bouncing and resorted to a regular walk, her shoulders slumped. “By the Sun’s Flames, what did Uncle Sands think he’d accomplish making me babysit you?”

“Perhaps he hoped to broaden your horizons.” Rarity wiped sweat from her brow and wished for clouds in her near future. “You never know, we may find we’ll actually enjoy one another’s company.”

Little Strongheart’s face contorted into an expression of disgust. “The day I make friends with a prissy pony pansy is the day I turn in my dad’s bow.” She gripped the weapon as if she thought Rarity might try to take it away. “Now stop being stupid. I’d like to get this done with minimal talking.”

So much for her offering of peace. Rarity sighed and elected to do as told. She doubted her temporary travelling companion would be able to offer much to talk about anyway.

Her thoughts drifted once more to Fleetfeather, and she offered up a prayer to the Sisters that the griffon would be alright.
> Episode 05: The Boss
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


24th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


The Dragon’s Teeth rose high above Rarity and Little Strongheart, like a wall of blades attempting to spear the stars. A confusing mix of emotions ran through Rarity at the sight of them. For one, she had to appreciate just how hard the griffons had pushed the ponies two days ago. Even with the benefit of Fleetfeather carrying her so far from the ambush, it had taken her and Little Strongheart a day-and-a-half to get back into the rocky hills.

There was also frustration. After spending so much time trying to get down here, a bunch of bone-headed bulls were going to make her go back north. And that led to fear, for she knew the Apples were looking for her. It could be that the buffalo had signed her death warrant by kicking her out like this.

Yet the fear was not only for herself. What of Troublemaker, his parents, or any of the others who had been captured? Any of them could be dead now, dead because of her rushed plan. Maybe some other griffons got away with more prisoners, who were doomed to be slaves until they’d been worked to their deaths. Rarity was almost desperate to go looking for them, to see the damage with her own eyes, but it had become abundantly clear she’d never be able to do that. Her only hope was to wait for them to show up at the mountains. A foolish notion, as the survivors would almost certainly arrive in some other location. She’d be waiting for nothing.

This all lead to a bitter annoyance with her current companion. Little Strongheart maintained such a scorching disposition that Rarity wondered if the Scorched Plains were so entirely because of her. The young buffalo barely said anything, and when she did it was always aggressive and rude. It seemed the only thing that kept her from abandoning Rarity was a fear of being found out by her uncle and grandfather. Rarity almost wished she would, if only to be rid of the infuriating cow. Oh, she’d tried being friendly, but after so much time she’d given up the task as hopeless. By now she reacted with as much snark and bite as she was given, and felt no guilt in the matter.

Slap on top of all of this her physical condition: baking hot, dirty, and radiating the stench of sweat. Granted, these things were commonplace nowadays. For all intents and purposes, Rarity knew she should be used to it. Yet all it did now was add to her bitter disposition.

Indeed, Rarity imagined ‘bitter’ defined everything about her at the moment. Loathsome thoughts filled her mind, aimed at everything from Little Strongheart to the Scorched Plains to Braeburn Apple. She even went so far as to curse Celestia and her stupid sun. Maybe if she’d been half as great as her sister she’d have come back already and put the accursed orb of fiery, death-dealing heat in its proper place.

At least she wasn’t sore anymore from the forced march. Small relief, but still a relief.

“Hey, bonehead.”

Her thoughts faded away as she cast a glare at Little Strongheart. As much as she wanted to retort with some equally foolish misnomer, Rarity elected to take the higher path. At least this way she could feel as if she were the better pony… er, individual. She couldn’t keep the disdain out of her “Yes?”, though.

Little Strongheart waved a hand at the surroundings hills. “This is it.”

Following her motion, Rarity realized they were standing beside a small cave entrance. She cocked her head and examined her surroundings, but found no apparent paths leading away from the cave. “So the tunnel goes across to the other side?”

“Assuming you don’t get lost in there,” Strongheart muttered. “Here’s hoping.”

Rarity snorted and examined the cave a little more closely. The ground before it was covered in tall, dry weeds, suggesting the thing saw little use. Seeing as it was already night, she could not see beyond the first foot or so into its depths. “This hardly seems safe. How will I know which tunnels to take once I’m inside?”

“Not my problem.” Strongheart crossed her arms and took a look at the mountains stretching high above them. “The pass you ponies used is another two days west of here. You don’t have the food to make it for that long.”

Annoyance or no annoyance, Rarity had to acknowledge the truth in her words. “So what’s to stop me from going over the mountains?”

Strongheart rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh that almost impressed with its length and ability to convey passive aggressiveness. “No pass. No path. It’ll take you days to get over the mountains here.” She tilted back to look up at the sky with squinting eyes. “Plus the griffons like to fly over this part of the mountains. So hey, if you want to be a slave, be my guest. I’m sure a pansy pony like you would love to have guaranteed free meals and maybe a roof over her head for the insignificant price of spreading her legs once or twice a year and popping out workhorses.”

Rarity ground her teeth and kept her hands clenched into fists. It may have been the only thing keeping her from going for Silver Lining. She approached the cave, pausing just before the narrow, black mouth. Once sure she could keep from descending to the child’s level, she growled out, “Thank you for the escort.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Oh, and watch your step.”

Blinking, Rarity leaned forward and looked down. She saw nothing in the shadows. “What for—hey!” She tipped forward from Strongheart’s rough shove on the small of her back and careened into the darkness. Her hands shot forward… and touched nothing. She began to roll, her jumbled mind picked up on the fact that she was going down a slope. Grunting and yelping the whole way, Rarity finally landed in a heap at the bottom.

Groaning, aching from head to hoof, she rolled onto her back and looked up, but she couldn’t even see the cave entrance. Seconds passed, but Strongheart didn’t call down. In all likelihood, she’d already walked away.

“That could have killed me, you little witch.” Rarity said the words, but could put no emotion into them. Her hands roamed over her body, checking for any serious damage, but it seemed she’d come away with nothing more than some bruises. Small relief, that. Now she was stuck at the bottom of a hole with no idea what direction she’d even come in from, trapped in total darkness and just a faint hope that she’d be able to find her way out, much less across the mountains.

So Rarity did the only thing her weary, bitter thoughts could conjure up. Using her pack as a pillow, she prepared to get some much needed sleep. It might not have been a good idea, but she was just too tired, sore, and depressed to care.

Maybe she’d have a clearer path when she woke up.





Waking up was not a pleasant experience. It involved soreness, stiffness, a back that ached from sleeping on solid stone, and the awareness that her conversation with Coco and her mother at a familiar café in Mooisville was, in fact, nothing but a dream. Being hungry, thirsty, and hot didn’t help.

But Rarity wasn’t defeated yet. So, as much as the very idea of movement brought grumbling curses of malicious intent upon the holy heads of the Sisters, she forced herself to her knees. Her knees, which hadn’t yet recovered from the torture she’d put them through in the last few days and so burned with a mild fire. She stretched, wincing at the sound of her popping joints. “When I finally get back to something resembling civilization, I swear to smother myself in comforts for at least a week. Probably two.”

That assumed she would ever get to some place resembling civilization. She cast her gaze around and quickly discovered a shaft of light above her head. It clearly came from the cave opening she’d been pushed through. It wasn’t as high up as she’d suspected, but it was certainly too high and the slope too steep to make for a viable escape. “I suppose I should count my lucky stars,” she grumbled while grabbing her pack. “A fall like that really could have killed me.”

At least she’d finally gotten some sleep. The thought of being ambushed in the night by griffons had kept her up the previous night in spite of her exhaustion, but it seemed fatigue had finally caught up with her this time. How long had she been out? Too long, if her still-protesting back was anything to go by. Pulling out the remaining loaf of bread, she dutifully broke only a fourth of it off for eating. She could have had half – she was sure Pounding Sands had intended it that way – but she couldn’t be sure how long she’d be trapped in the dark.

How fortunate that her waterskins hadn’t come open from the fall, though it seemed at least a little bit had been lost. She took a small drink from one of them, tied it to the waistband of her dirty, ripped jeans and carefully hung the pack over her shoulder. She cast one last look to the light above, half hoping she’d see some way to get up there. But there wasn’t, so she heaved a deep sigh and marched into the darkness, nibbling on her small piece of bread.

It didn’t take long for the shaft of light to be lost in the dark. Rarity cast that most basic of unicorn spells – a dab of Orange to change darkness to light and a touch of Blue to brighten it, creating a pale blue aura to see by – and found herself in a tunnel. It was wide enough for maybe two ponies to walk side by side, but only just tall enough for her to stand without having to duck her head. The ground was rough and uneven, forcing her to climb over small hills, slide down short but steep slopes, and keep her eyes downward half the time to avoid tripping on exposed rocks. It proved a tiring experience that aggravated her aching muscles, and thus her.

Nor was the tunnel a straight path. It twisted, turned, rose and fell without any clear pattern. It didn’t maintain any consistency at all, at times being large enough to easily walk through and at others forcing her to crouch in order to proceed. She wondered if there wouldn’t be times when she’d have to crawl to pass through, although such a problem had yet to occur. The thought alone was enough to unnerve her though.

After what seemed like hours, but may have been mere minutes, she came upon a fork in the tunnel. One path led up in a steep but not unnavigable climb. The other led downwards in a smooth slope. “Wonderful,” she muttered, ears folding flat at the resultant echo. “Couldn’t you have given me some guidance, Strongheart?”

She pondered the situation for a while, but knew she couldn’t linger for long. Although she acknowledged that going up was probably the safer route for keeping her close to the surface, Rarity just couldn’t bring herself to make such an arduous climb. She took the smooth slope deeper into the earth.

Time passed. More rocks and tunnel went by. A few more forks appeared, sometimes two paths, sometimes three. She tried to always pick the route taking her further up, but sometimes that just wasn’t possible. The air gradually cooled, eventually becoming quite pleasant – about the only positive she could find in this dark place.

There was so much she didn’t know. What direction was she even facing? If she wanted to, could she make her way back to the entrance? How confident could she really be that there was even another exit, much less one on the north side of the mountains? The more Rarity pondered, the more she feared that Little Strongheart might have intentionally led her to her death. For this reason, she tried not to think much.

That proved difficult considering there wasn’t anything else to do. Rarity was surrounded by nothing but darkness and stone. At times it felt as if the little bubble of light around her horn was the entire universe. She could never know what was ahead or behind. The cramped spaces gave her a nauseous feeling, a sense of having nowhere to go, no freedom to choose. If something happened to be down here with her, she’d have no options for escape. And what, exactly, could be hiding down here?

The flickering light of her horn created dancing shadows that taunted her imagination with wicked images. It seemed even bare, plain stone could appear threatening under the right circumstances. Rarity kept a tight grip on her pack and walked in a hunched pose so that she might break into a sprint at any moment. Her ears twisted and flicked in search of sounds beyond her absurdly loud hoofsteps. She wouldn’t stop. She didn’t dare, not even for a bite to eat when her stomach began to growl.

If she stopped, she might never escape. The darkness would close in and consume her, and she’d wither away in a forgotten tomb beneath the earth. Her parents would never know. In a hundred years, would some explorer discover her pale bones and wonder why she’d come down here all alone? She wasn’t supposed to die here. She was supposed to die in a soft bed in an elegant mansion, surrounded by fans, family and friends!

The last thought struck her hard, and Rarity exercised the willpower necessary to still her aching legs. She took a few deep breaths and took a long drink of water. “You’re being silly, Rarity,” she whispered to herself, eyes on her hooves. “You’re not going to die here. Little Strongheart said these tunnels would lead you to the northern side of the mountains.”

If you didn’t get lost.

She grimaced and, dropping to one knee, set her pack down. “Shut up, brain. You’re not helping.” She broke off another fourth of her bread, closed the pack and took a seat, back pressed against the hard stone wall. “I’ll just rest my legs for a few minutes, then go on. If I’ve got to eat, then maybe half a day has gone by. I’m making progress.”

She ate slowly, ears swiveling in the silence. That was all they found. Even her chewing seemed inordinately loud in this place. She glanced one way, then another. Nothing but bare stone and dancing shadows. It was so terribly quiet…

“This place could use an aesthetic touch,” she muttered, if only for something to listen to. “What kind of artwork befits a black, empty cave?” A bite. The bread was stiff, requiring a lot of chewing before it could go down her throat comfortably. That was good. It distracted her. “Maybe some floral accents.”

She studied the piece of bread in her hands for a time, mind devoid of any fresh ideas. Then, out of nowhere…

“Gems.” She raised her head, eyeing the flickering shadows on the opposite wall. “Of course. How obvious, Rarity. Underground locals require underground décor. Gems would be perfect.” A bite of bread. A long period of quiet chewing. Swallow. “I wonder if there are any down here?”

Without hesitation, she began casting the familiar gem-finding spell she’d learned as a foal. Picturing the magic in her head, she started with Orange to detect minute changes in the rock. It had to be just the right pattern, with the tiniest hint of Red mixed in to make the detection more precise. She’d always been proud of this little spell, as it was more complicated than what the average unicorn might produce. With the basic setup complete, she gave it the scarcest touch of Indigo she could, a means of propelling the magic outwards from her horn. The only thing left was to apply some Blue and Orange to give the detected gemstones a proper glow in her mind’s eye. Once all the interlocking pieces appeared to be properly set the spell was ready, and she released it, the blue aura of her horn magnifying a fraction.

To her disappointment, nothing appeared in the surrounding walls. How… boring. It seemed the Dragon’s Teeth lacked the one thing dragons were most known for. What a disappoint—“What’s this?”

The exact ‘what’ eluded her, but Rarity’s magically enhanced sight indicated something colorful beyond the darkness to her right and a little above her. The distance from her had to be significant, considering how the colors all blurred together in a fuzzy mess. Given that the thing was the size of her fist, she could only conclude that, whatever it was, it was big. Perhaps she was looking at some sort of gem vein?

A small smile tweaked Rarity’s lips. She had no expectation of being able to take advantage of this find now, but if she could get out of these caves and fund an expedition, perhaps she’d find she’d just hit the jackpot. This entire fiasco of a journey might have proved worth it after all.

She promptly scowled and slapped the side of her head. “No, Rarity! You murdered ponies, and may be responsible for the deaths of others. No amount of personal gain is worth that.” She thought about the Bad Apple Gang and their undoubtedly ongoing pursuit of her life. Gems and bits would do nothing to assuage her guilt, but perhaps she could use this discovery to pay off her ‘debt’ and keep from being hunted for the rest of her life.

If she could find it again. Rarity rubbed her necklace as she pondered the situation. Perhaps, if she got close enough, she’d be able to plant a marker spell on the vein. Finding it afterwards would be a simple feat. She just had to hope the tunnels took her sufficiently close to it… while at the same time leading her out of the mountains. She was lost as it was; at least this gave her a direction.

“After all,” she huffed while forcing herself to her hooves, “it’s not as if walking away from the vein will have any more of a guarantee of escape.”

In a way, Rarity knew her little plan was ridiculous. Possibly even suicidal. Gem veins were found inside mountains, after all, so following a tunnel closer to them would almost certainly not lead her outside. But this one was above her, and she needed to go up to get out anyway, right?

She whispered an apology to the Sisters for her earlier rudeness before asking them to help her get out of this situation alive.





Time had little meaning in a world of darkness. Rarity could only guess as to how long she'd been trekking, by the pangs of hunger and thirst, and by the way gem vein shifted as she moved. Sometimes she was forced to move away from it by the twisting and turning cave system, and twice so far she’d ended up at a dead end and forced to retrace her hoofsteps. Hunger gnawed at her insides, but she steadfastly refused to eat. If she went until she was ready to sleep, she might be able to stretch her remaining bread out to another two days. Assuming that a need for sleep indicated a day’s passing, that is.

Despite the natural randomness of the tunnels, the gem vein steadily grew closer and closer. Rarity focused all her attention on it. The gems were, by now, more of a tool than a destination. So long as she kept her mind on them and forced herself to think of how they might be utilized, the less she thought about her grumbling stomach, her ever-present thirst, and the miniature Rarity in the back of her head.

That mini-Rarity was on the edge of panic, doing its level best to point out all things wrong with her current situation. It kept trying to remind her that she was at death’s door, that she might never find her way out of these tunnels, that Little Strongheart had betrayed her to her doom. If Rarity didn’t exert all her will into trying to get to that gem vein and further upwards, she might find herself actually listening to that voice.

Under no circumstances could she let that happen.





Exhaustion ate at Rarity’s strength, accompanied by hunger too great to ignore. Rarity knew it was probably time to have another fourth of her bread and get some sleep. Only one thing stopped her from doing this.

She stood transfixed, gazing open-mouthed upon a small diamond in the wall. Except that the diamond didn’t belong there. It wasn’t ‘in’ the wall, not really. Rather, it sat on a small, curved edge that the round gem loosely rested in. The setup was too perfect to be natural. Oh, and it glowed. Not like the now-nearby gem vein glowed due to her gem-finding spell, but as in real light making this portion of the tunnel clearly visible to the naked eye.

Was it an illusion? A vision brought forth by her hunger pangs, weariness and the little pony running frantic circles in the back of her head, or had somepony come down into these lifeless caves and put up this primitive magilight? She desperately hoped for the latter, but couldn’t trust her own judgement right now. She looked down the tunnel, which was now smoothly rounded to form an egg-like shape, and saw more of the magical ‘torches’ lining the walls. She had a clear view all the way to the next bend in the tunnel.

Slowly, legs stiff and mind hazy, she continued. What might she find? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps it really was all in her head. Or maybe she’d discover an abandoned mineshaft from somepony trying to reach the gem vein. And yet her strained brain grasped hold of the concept that there might actually be ponies down here who could help her. The phantom hope was enough to drive down the fatigue and keep her moving forward.

The mini-Rarity in the back of her mind was hopping up and down and waving her arms. What if the place is run by griffon slavers?

Rarity didn’t have the energy to scowl. Nonsense, they came from the Eerie Cliffs north of here.

But this place could be a staging area for incursions into the Scorched Plains!

They’re bird-brains. They prefer high altitudes, not dank caves.

They’ve been hiding in caves ever since the fall of the Grypha Empire!

All the more reason to not want to live in one.

We’re going to get captured again!

I’m armed.

You’re dead on your hooves!

Would you rather I just sit in the darkness and do nothing?

Dog.

What? What nerve! Just because we disagree, that’s no reason to—

No, dog!

Huh?

She blinked, taking in her surroundings once more. Her hand snapped over her mouth to muffle the gasp. A pair of diamond dogs in iron armor and wielding spears were conversing at the end of the path near a four-way split. She grinned, started to raise her hand… then froze. A chill ran down her spine in defiance of the warmth of the caves, and she swiftly ducked back behind the bend in the tunnel.

What did she know about diamond dogs? They ran Howler’s Bank. The ones she’d met had all seemed friendly. But those dogs lived in towns and cities, running fine institutions that guaranteed the steady flow of finances that kept communities from descending into chaos – or at least that was how Mr. Gold once described it to her.

But these dogs were living in caves beneath the most inhospitable mountain range in Equestria. Could she be certain that they were half as civilized as the bankers were? And why had they been dressed in armor and armed? If they proved unfriendly…

She waved her hand in her face, idly wondering when the tunnels had gotten so warm, and peeked beyond the corner. The two dogs had moved on, leaving the path clear. What would she do now? Approach them and hope they didn’t decide to put a spear in her gut? She’d been shot at by ponies, nearly enslaved by griffons, and almost trampled by buffalo, to say nothing of Little Strongheart’s questionable decision. What were the odds she’d have better luck dealing with diamond dogs?

Her eyes drifted upwards, falling upon the gem vein. She’d not given it much attention for some time, largely just using it as a directional guide. Now that she really looked, however, she realized that her expectations were off. She was close enough that individual gemstones could be distinguished, and her eyes went wide at the find. It was a veritable mountain of colors, large enough to bury all of Spurhoof!

There was enough wealth in that pile to shame the entire agricultural elite of Manehattan and Mooisville combined. Why would a community of diamond dogs possessing of such unimaginable wealth be using primitive magi-torches, crude iron armor and the most basic of melee weaponry? Rarity’s brain was in no condition to do battle with this logical disparity, and instead jumped to the conclusion that they had to be greedy beyond rationality. And if that was the case, they likely wouldn’t take kindly to the sight of a pony wandering into their territory.

Her heart fluttered in her chest as she faced the terrible reality of her situation. She ran her fingers along Silver Lining’s grip, licking her lips and praying she’d get out of this place without having to take any shots.

You could just go back.

No. No, that was not an option. She’d starve in those tunnels for certain. Her best bet was to sneak through this Diamond Dog community and hope she could find a way to the surface. They wouldn’t make a home in a place like this if there wasn’t an exit close by. Surely. It was just a matter of not being seen.

Her eyes crossed, taking in the gentle glow of her horn. Her gaze drifted to the massive pile of gems that filled her vision. Oh, but what she wouldn’t give to spend two minutes alone with that glorious collection…

With a pained sigh, she canceled her gem-finding spell, and the massive pile disappeared from her vision. The loss was almost enough to bring a tear to her eye. Yet she simply couldn’t take the risk. No doubt a treasury like that would be meticulously guarded, and Rarity was no thief regardless of how fabulous the prize.

She didn’t proceed immediately. Instead, she gave herself a moment to eat, drink, and rest her tired legs. She was still exhausted, but she didn’t dare try to sleep now. She could go back to the dark tunnels and try it, but it would be just her luck if she’d finally fall unconscious only for one of the dogs to go exploring and stumble upon her defenseless self. No, she’d get out of here and well away from them, then she’d succumb to her body’s needs.

She gave herself only a few minutes. If she lingered for too long, sleep might sneak up on her. She made the strap of her pack into a loop, set her arm through said loop, then flung the strap across her other shoulder. The result was uncomfortable, but it allowed both of her hands to be free and kept the pouch from slinging about as she moved. She rubbed Silver Lining’s grip once more, feeling that now-familiar imperfection in the wood on her thumb. The voice in the back of her mind suggested she keep the gun in her hand, but she rejected the idea. With any luck, she’d not have to use it at all.

Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, Rarity began her incursion. The way proved easy enough at first thanks to a lack of sentries in her path. Every now and then, however, she’d stumble upon a group of Diamond Dogs wandering the tunnels. She’d managed to keep hidden with unexpected ease. It seemed that they weren’t expecting intruders to come in via the tunnels, so they always had their eyes turned away from her when she slipped by.

Even so, she couldn’t get through every time. Gradually, the tunnels started to appear less natural and more like carved hallways, albeit still with that curved design. The designer in her found the curved corners rather pleasant, though the sheer lack of décor did little to engage her enthusiasm. Every time she began to enter these settings she’d find the ‘hallway’ guarded by two dogs. Unlike the others who had been wandering, these always seemed present specifically for the purpose of guarding that particular passage. With no way past them, Rarity was forced to turn around and brave the more natural tunnels.

The more roadblocks she encountered, the more frustrated she became. Did these creatures never have shift changes? All she wanted was to lie down and sleep, but after wandering through the dimly lit halls for so long she’d lost track of how to get back to the dark caves. Her eyelids felt as though they were made of stone and she didn’t walk so much as stumbled. She had to find a safe place to rest, and soon.

Frustration shifted to desperation, and Rarity began investigating places she might hide. Many of the tunnels in this area had side paths – doorways? – leading into what may have been considered rooms. Most were empty, but several seemed to be used as storage space. One was filled with iron ingots, another with rolled up rugs, and yet another had tools that appeared to be for mining. That last one befuddled her, for even she knew that Diamond Dogs were built for digging. Unless perhaps the stone here was too tough even for their sharp claws?

Yet as much as hiding behind all the junk she found might have been a good idea for her rest, the rooms were always packed too tightly for her to make any headway, forcing her to go in search of some other place. She had to wonder just what the dogs needed so much of the stuff for. Was there some practical use to it she was too tired to fathom?

Rarity bumbled her way into another doorway, rubbing her eyes and willing herself to continue. Then, she looked up and felt her heart sink. “Oh, that’s just not fair.”

Mattresses. A room filled to the brim with nothing but mattresses. Chamberlain size. Prince size. Princess size. Even a few Royals. She sucked down a sharp breath and reached out to touch the nearest stack of three, pushing down on the tantalizingly soft material. It was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes. If she could just climb over to some back corner…

She almost did it. She should have done it. None of the dogs would have noticed, for sure. But, just as she was preparing to make the soft, delightful, fabulous climb, her ears perked to the strange sound of the Diamond Dog’s native tongue, a confusing mashup of barks, whines, yelps and grunts. The tiny voice in the back of her head screamed at her to jump, but her body was too sluggish for such a rapid reaction.

The talking stopped. Rarity cringed, slowly stood to her full height, and turned to her left.

A pair of Diamond Dogs, unarmored and hauling a large mattress between them, gaped at her like a pair of fish. She returned this look in a thoughtless stupor, gradually coming to terms with the fact that they were not the hallucinations of a weary mind.

Unfortunately, they reacted first, dropping the mattress and emitting lengthy howls that she could only assume was some sort of alert. Cursing, Rarity turned tail and fled down the hall, not even checking to see if she was being followed. She struggled through the fatigue to try and think of a plan, but the only answers that came to mind were “run”, “run quickly”, and the occasional “hide”. She mostly focused on the second one.

It wasn’t all a mindless sprint, however. She made sure to make a turn every time one was presented to her, hoping that not going in a straight line would make her harder to locate. If she could get back into the darkness, that would be okay, but she really hoped she could luck out and run straight to an exit.

“Stop, pony thief!”

Rarity’s legs wobbled and nearly sent her careening to the floor, but she managed to adjust and turn around as a trio of armed dogs bounded from the end of a hallway. Part of her wanted to deny the accusation, but she was too busy praying to Celestia and Luna for such things.

Barks and yelps filled the tunnels, making it abundantly clear that she’d soon be in a lot of trouble. Her legs burned from the renewed exertion and her breath came in stinging gasps. The sight of sharp spears and swords, and even a pistol or two, reminded her that it was probably far too late for the diplomatic route. At least they weren’t shooting yet, but that was little comfort as a sword-wielding dog appeared from around a corner.

They almost collided, but Rarity managed to bumble her way to the side. She bounced against the wall painfully as she did. Only his surprise at her sudden appearance kept her from being caught in his clutches. “Stop, pony!”

She ignored him and kept running. “Why are so many creatures trying to kill me lately?”

She charged from passage to passage, tripping over her own hooves but somehow managing to evade Diamond Dogs that appeared to block her at half her turns. Her options were rapidly dwindling, and the tiny Rarity in the back of her head began to despair.

No, I’ll find a way. I’ll get out of this. I just need to find an open path!

She stumbled to a stop next to a large, bronze door. Her chest heaved, her body ached from the exacerbation of pains she’d only just started recovering from, and sweat dripped down her body. But, as she stared ahead, she realized that she’d reached the end of the line. A team of five dogs stood in her path. A corridor to her left was blocked by a half-dozen more, and when she turned around she discovered another group. They were armed to the teeth and looked more than a little frustrated.

One of the dogs stepped forward, a sword raised high over his head. “Calm down, pony. No need to run. Pony stay.”

Her eyes ran the length of his sharp weapon. She swallowed, fingers running along Silver Lining’s grip. It would not save her against so many, even with her strangely good aim. If she didn’t come up with something…

Her eyes darted to the bronze door. It was large enough for three diamond dogs to pass through. It was also the only actual door she’d seen in the entire cave system. Perhaps it was protecting something?

The dog’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t even think it, pony.”

Good enough for her! She jerked into motion, slamming her shoulder against the door even as she twisted the ornate silver handle. Curses and shouts filled the chamber as, thankfully, the door proved unlocked. Almost falling through, Rarity managed to use the handle to keep from sprawling forward, then turned and slammed the door closed. There was a latch on the side and, hoping it was some sort of locking mechanism, she jerked it down.

A large metal beam dropped over the door with a bang just as the dogs tried to push their way in.

Fighting to catch her breath, Rarity backpedaled from the door and pulled out Silver Lining. Her hands shook as she checked the cylinder; four bullets loaded. She still had her pouch. Maybe if she could reload fast enough she could keep them pinned, and then…

A hot breeze blew her hair forward around her face. It had the distinct smell of mint.

Rarity froze, her breath coming to a stop as another blast of wind struck her from behind. Slowly, she turned around.

She was in a massive cavern, large enough to fit five Spurhoofs within it. Magilights illuminated every corner, which made the veritable mountain of gems glitter and sparkle from every angle. But what really had her attention was the massive, violet-scaled dragon laying atop a nearby hill of precious stones. A dragon whose teeth were mere feet away from her. A pair of green eyes, each as large as she was, peered at her beneath similarly green spikes.

Sputtering, frail sounds left Rarity’s trembling lips. Her body moved on its own, shaking hands raising Silver Lining so that it pointed haphazardly at the beast’s snout. But she couldn’t pull the trigger. She couldn’t fathom trying. All she saw was teeth and scales and eyes and… and…

Silver Lining hit the ground, followed shortly by Rarity falling into a sitting position. She sagged forward, tears blurring her vision. “J-just get it over with.” Closing her eyes, she braced herself for death.

Time passed. No pain came. Had it been so quick she’d merely not felt it?

Then, that minty breath rushed over her once more, punctuated by a deep, rumbling hum.

“I wasn’t expecting such a lovely visitor today.”

She raised her head. Through fuzzy vision, she saw that the beast was… smiling.

Exhaustion, hunger, pain, fear, frustration, all of it had been capped off by the sheer absurdity that this beast was capable of speech. Rarity’s brain, it seemed, had had enough; the world went dark, and she fell to the floor on her side.

The last thing she heard before slipping into unconsciousness was that same deep voice muttering a disappointed, “That could have gone better.”





Even without knowing what time it was, Rarity concluded it was far too early to be getting out of bed. She snuggled into her pillow and pulled the silken sheets so that they cooled her cheeks. What a decadent feeling! She’d be delighted to have a chance to indulge in this every morning.

But it couldn’t last, could it? She’d have to check inventory, get the shop ready to open, perhaps work on an order or two. Did she have any orders? Nothing came to mind, but surely there was something… Oh! Cleric Walker’s new robes. Such a smashing design idea she’d had. She hoped she had enough sapphires. If not, she could send Coco to the store to put in an order with the next caravan. Why was it so hot in her room? She pushed the sheets away, delighting in how the silk felt between her fingers.

Wait… silk?

She didn’t own silk bedsheets.

Her eyes drifted open only to settle upon a veritable wall of shining gems. Her sleepy brain tried to wrap her head around this. If it was some kind of prank, it would be an outrageously expensive—

Her last waking moments came back to her in a rush, and Rarity jerked into a sitting position with a gasp. Massive cavern, mountain of gemstones, gargantuan wall of scales. She was still in the caves! How long had she been out? Mere seconds? She reached for Silver Lining… and touched only softness. Her moment of rising panic derailed when she looked down and found herself dressed snugly in a white, fluffy bathrobe and sitting on a Royal-sized mattress covered in silk sheets. “W-what?”

There came a deep thrumming from the wall of purple scales, which brought gems down in a glittery landslide as it shifted in her direction. Rarity swallowed her breath when a long, slender neck curved towards her. Once again, she gazed upon a pair of brilliant green eyes.

The voice that rose from between the dragon’s sharp fangs wasn’t as deep as her memory had suggested, and had an eager tonality. “You are awake! Good.”

Rarity stared up at the beast, taking in its green spikes and purple scales. The creature was at least five times the size of her shop! Sucking down slow breaths, she glanced around, but the diamond dogs she’d expected to see guarding her where nowhere to be found. And why not? She didn’t want to be here either.

“Are you alright?” The dragon sat up, the simple motion sending gems cascading off the vast piles. “No lasting pains? I hope the fall didn’t cause anything bad.” His massive claw rose and he held up two talons. “How many fingers do you see?”

Her tongue flopped in her mouth for a few seconds, but she at last managed, “T-t-two. Please don’t eat me.”

He – at least, she assumed it was a he – managed to smile without showing those deadly fangs. “If I were going to eat you, why would I wait for you to wake up?”

Her pounding heart began to slow enough for her to gather her thoughts, which started with acknowledging his point. She glanced down at herself, taking in her robe and the mattress. Blushing at the amount of cleavage being shown, she wrapped the robe a little more tightly around her body. “Um… th-thank you for not eating me.” She looked up at him, ears folding back. “What’s going on?”

The dragon reached a claw up to scratch at his cheek, averting his gaze. Against all the logic in her skull, he actually appeared bashful. “I apologize. I think my attempt at a casual greeting before was too… direct. You fainted, so I had Jewelbone clean you up and make you comfortable.”

Clean her up? Rarity took a moment to examine herself once more and realized that, indeed, all the grit and grime of the last few months had been washed away. A swift examination revealed her mane had returned to its old luster and bounce. The feeling of it in her fingers brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, Sisters, it’s been so long…”

She caught the dragon’s smile and flinched back once more. “W-why would you do this for me?”

Straightening up, the dragon crossed his arms and tucked his chin between a thumb and finger. He studied her with a gaze more curious than anything. “The Diamond Dogs believe you were trying to rob from my hoard. Were you?”

Rarity felt her old fire come back at that query. “I am not a thief! I was just trying to get out of those damnable tunnels under the mountains and stumbled upon this… whatever this place is!”

“And why, exactly, were you in the tunnels?”

Heat rushed to her cheeks and she averted her gaze. “Because I got tricked into going in by some cruel buffalo child who was supposed to be guiding me out of the Scorched Plains.” If she ever saw Little Strongheart again…

But, as his shifting body reminded her, Rarity had much bigger things to deal with right now. She brushed her mane back from her face and clutched her robes close, feeling unpleasantly exposed. Keeping her gaze on her knees, she asked, “What do you intend to do with me?”

“Feed you.”

Had she heard that correctly? She looked up at him, and he gestured with a palm to her right. She turned and gasped at the sight of a trio of silver plates. Pasta, bread and butter, and soup. Beside the meal was a bottle filled with something red and a half-full wine glass.

Her body reacted before her mind could, grabbing the plate of noodles in her magic. She’d already taken three bites before she realized what she was doing, but by then it was too late to consider the potential consequences.

The dragon spoke hesitantly. “I, uh, thought you might be hungry when you woke up. It’s probably not hot anymore.”

“You have no idea and I don’t care.” Rarity ripped a bite out of the loaf of bread, foregoing butter in favor of filling her empty belly. That down, she grabbed the wine glass and started to take a drink, only to sputter and pull it back once the first sip had gone down her throat. “O-oh my, this really is wine! And… a good wine. Fruity. Strawberry?”

“From the Gemdew Fields of Seaddle.”

Another gasp. Rarity took the bottle in both hands at gaped at the label, confirming the dragon’s statement. She looked up at him in a mild stupor. “But that winemaker closed up shop more than fifty years ago.”

He nodded. “When the owner retired, yes.”

“I can’t drink this!” She carefully set the bottle back down. “It’s far too precious.”

The dragon shrugged. “It was just sitting in storage all this time. Wine is created for drinking, not collecting dust.” He waved his claw in an encouraging manner. “Please, have as much as you want, Miss…?”

“Oh! Do forgive me.” Rarity turned to face him properly and bowed her head low. “Miss Rarity Belle, and I am oh-so very grateful for your warm welcome. B-but…” She glanced at the food, then at her robes again. “I’m a little confused as to what’s going on.” Despite herself, she grabbed the plate of pasta once more. She ate a lot more slowly this time, which allowed her to savor the basil, garlic and cherry tomatoes. She couldn’t imagine the cost of such an extravagant meal, but her taste buds convinced her not to question the matter.

“Ah, Rarity Belle. As pleasant a name as I’ve ever known.” The dragon swept a claw over his heart and gave a bow that brought his chin down to her level, making her flinch. “I am Spike. Just Spike. But you may have overheard the Diamond Dogs referring to me as ‘Boss’.”

Boss? She’d heard that before. Where?

She almost dropped her plate as comprehension dawned. “The owner of Howler’s Bank is a dragon?”

He straightened up and set a lone finger to his lips with a wink and a smirk. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“O-oh, I won’t.” She shook her head frantically. “I’m just shocked, is all. How did this happen?”

Spike’s head drifted away such that he was staring at the wall, his expression one of melancholy. “Eh, it’s a long and tiring story.” An instant later, he was grinning and tilting his head her way. “Would you like to hear it?”

Rarity pondered the question for a moment, taking in her position and the offerings before her. He’d yet to tell her what he really intended to do with her. Perhaps if she kept him talking she’d uncover the truth, or at least buy herself time to figure out an escape plan. Besides, the food and drink were really good. There was also his behavior so far which, contrary to everything she’d ever heard in her life about dragons, had been cordial and polite.

Ignoring all that, she doubted she had anything better to do with her time. “By all means. I’d love to hear your story.”

He hummed and rubbed his chin. “Y’know, maybe not the ‘whole’ story. I’ll give you the cliffnotes version.” As he continued, he dug around his collection of gems with his claws. “Basically, I’ve been living in these caves for about nine hundred years. I came here because, regrettably, I am rather small for a dragon, and not known for my fighting prowess. I found I just couldn’t maintain and defend a hoard on my own, especially not in the Burning Lands. So I came here, where I could at least be sure none of my bigger brethren might come after me.”

Rarity choked on her bread at the thought that this behemoth of a creature was considered small by dragon standards. “I… see.”

He was focused almost entirely on his gems now, talons digging through them in slow, gentle strokes as he peered in apparent search of something. “The Diamond Dogs were driven into the mountains two centuries later, in the midst of the Seventy-Three Wars. They simply had nowhere else to go. I welcomed their arrival. Unlike most of my kin, I tend to get rather lonely and was happy to make some new friends.” He rolled his eyes and muttered, “I’m something of a freak in the eyes of other dragons. Ah-ha!”

He pulled out a relatively small object between two long talons, moving with great care as he deposited it before Rarity. It was a wood-bound book, so large it would have taken her both hands to lift. Before she could get a good look at it, he continued.

“The Diamond Dogs are a little greedy, and love gems. Dragons are extremely greedy, and we eat gems. I saw the opportunity for a match made in Elysium.” He sat back once more, head raised in a proud pose. “So we came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. I taught the Diamond Dogs all about financing, something I had picked up on my own as a dragon whelp with a taste for exploration. They went out and established banks based upon my knowledge and teachings. I acted as the chief executive of the bank, keeping Howler’s Bank successful.

“In return, I take in 30% of the bank’s profits.” He winked at her. “Not bad for an egghead, wouldn’t you say?”

Sipping down some soup – potato with chives and melted cheese – Rarity considered the dates he’d mentioned. She choked on the lukewarm liquid as things clicked. “You mean you’ve been collecting 30% of the profits from Howler’s Bank for seven hundred years? With an income like that, you’d… you’d be…”

She gaped at the massive collection of gems, the reality of it all sinking in and rendering her mind numb. “W-wow.”

Spike nodded with a smarmy grin. He caught up a claw full of gems and popped a few into his mouth. “And to think, the dragons in the Burning Lands are still fighting one another and going on treasure raids.”

Slowly, Rarity’s brain kicked back into gear. She took another sip of soup, if only to buy herself some time to think. “So… does that mean you’re responsible for the entirety of Equestria’s current economic system?”

“Indeed.” He rubbed his chest self-appreciatively. “In fact, I invented the Gem-to-Bit Conversion System. It’s worked out pretty well so far. Might I ask which bank you worked with on the outside?”

“Umm… the Spurhoof Branch?”

“Spurhoof?” Spike tilted his head back, eyes narrowing. He retained this pose for almost a minute, his eyes shifting slowly across nothing Rarity could see. “Ah. That would be the bank of Mr. Golden Fang, or ‘Mr. Gold,’ as he prefers to be called. He took out some sort of ‘aid donation’ last season against his bank’s net worth.”

Rarity began to wonder if the muscles in her jaws were failing. “You remembered that just from the name?”

“I’ve always been more organized than your average creature, dragon or no.” He shrugged before lowering himself, resting on the gem piles and crossing his muscular arms. “So tell me, Lady Rarity. What brings a young, pretty unicorn such as you all the way to the Dragon’s Teeth – and from the Scorched Plains, no less. Are you a trader?”

Her stomach twisted at the query. Would she have to explain everything to him? Focusing on her soup, she sighed and shook her head. “I was a clothier. Now I… I suppose I am a drifter. I might still be, assuming I’ll be allowed to leave here.”

“That depends upon why such a well-spoken, attractive young drifter is sneaking around my home as if she does not wish to be discovered.”

Rarity groaned and set her soup down, her appetite having vanished. “I’m going to have to explain everything, aren’t I?”

Spike’s smile was the epitome of patience. “Take your time. Neither of us are going anywhere for a while.”





It had taken some time to tell her tale. By the end of it Rarity felt a resurgence of her prior bitterness, her thoughts focused primarily on Little Strongheart. She’d conjured up so many curses for that wretched buffalo, and suspected she could conjure up a few hundred more with some time and a few scrolls.

Spike lay on his belly, chin resting on his steepled claws as he stared over Rarity at nothing in particular. “That is quite the story, Lady Rarity.”

“I suppose it is,” she groused. “I can only imagine what will happen next.” She glanced up at him, bracing for the bad news. “What does happen next?”

He gave a long hum, the wind from it blowing her mane back. She might have complained if his breath didn’t have that curiously pleasant minty aroma to it. “I’ve taken your story in, and I think I believe you. So really, what happens next is up to you.”

Her ears perked. “It is?”

Focusing on her once more, he gave a soft smile. It was astonishing to think that something so scaly and undoubtedly hard could manage to look soft, but Spike had defied a lot of Rarity’s predispositions towards dragons so far. “I think you should stay here for a few days to recover from your ordeal. After that? You may leave. Or… stay. If you’d like.”

“Stay?” Rarity took a look at her surroundings, her hands rubbing the soft robe she still wore. “Here?”

“Stay. Here.” He leaned forward, which in her view was like having a mountain threatening to roll over her. Yet in his eyes she saw something entirely unexpected: hope. “I haven’t had such a pleasant conversation partner in decades. You’d be well attended. Food, clothing, whatever you need or desire. And I? I’d have someone to talk to.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What about the Diamond Dogs?”

He sighed and waved a dismissive claw. “They are fine, I guess. But let’s face it, all Diamond Dogs care about is gems and how to get more of them. If I want to talk about anything else – and I mean anything else – they’re not really up to par. There is more to life than economics, but I can’t exactly stroll into the nearest town and make friends. The general reaction usually involves a lot of shrieking and gunfire.”

Pursing her lips, Rarity sat back with hands to the mattress. “And what, exactly, would you like to talk about other than gems?”

His eyes lit up, an eager smile on his lips. “I don’t suppose you listen to music?”





The two of them talked for hours on end. Rarity soon found herself thoroughly enjoying Spike’s company. For lack of any alternative terminology, she came to look upon him as a ‘gentledrake.’ Cultured, soft-spoken, highly knowledgeable and intelligent, Rarity realized she’d not been so engaged with another creature in years. His laid back attitude gave her the room she needed to be comfortable in his presence.

She dined on her second meal since arriving – kindly delivered by a very polite female Diamond Dog with the unfortunate name of Jewelbone, who also brought Silver Lining and Rarity’s freshly laundered clothes. Her gaze was focused on a series of statues Spike had arranged before her. Although each one was nearly twice Rarity’s size, to Spike they were trinkets he could carry between two talons. He did precisely that, moving a massive minotaur statue across a blocky pattern of rugs he’d set on the floor.

“Knight to G3.”

“Clever.” Rarity studied the massive chessboard from over her wine glass, going over potential moves. She already had a plan in place, but it never hurt to think of alternatives just in case. After a while she set her glass down and declared a prim “Councilor takes pawn at E7.”

Spike’s sigh filled the air with that familiar minty breath. “I should have suggested checkers. I’m better at that game.” He dutifully moved her statue of a night priestess into place, removing his small pony soldier as he did.

Rarity eyed his sulking expression. “I don’t understand how the father of the modern Equestrian financial system could have trouble with a game of chess.”

With a shrug, he moved his Celestia statue, switching its positions with an obelisk. “It’s a different kind of thinking, I suppose. Castling Celestia to C8.”

She smirked. “Prince to A6. Check.”

“Bah. Celestia to B8. Uncheck.”

Satisfied with the way things were going in the game, Rarity paid less attention to it and more to the things she’d been thinking about ever since she’d awoken in this place. She had the book, which apparently detailed the history of the Bank, but had far more important things on the mind at the moment. Glancing up at Spike’s scowling expression – his ‘game face,’ apparently – she tentatively asked, “Do you really want me to stay?”

The corner of his lip twitched up, proving the lie behind his scowl. “Not if you’re gonna tear me apart at chess. Your move.”

“I’m aware.” She sighed and rested on her side, eating a couple of grapes from a bowl of assorted fruits. “I have to admit, you know how to tempt a girl. Pawn to H8. Prince me.”

He obediently switched her thestral soldier for a warlock. How long had it taken him to gather all the perfect statues for a game like this? As he turned the warlock to face the proper direction, he said, “I admit, I’m pretty eager. It’s been nice, having someone to talk to. It helps that she’s a looker.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me, you silver-tongued beast, you.” She smirked up at him, then gave a long yawn. She was hardly paying any attention at all to the game now. She knew he’d move his knight to take her new prince, and it would be checkmate in the next move. “But I don’t know. I’m not a dragon, and I doubt I’d enjoy spending the rest of my life in a cave, even with all the riches of Howler’s Bank to make me comfortable.”

He lifted his head to frown at her. “And the Bad Apple Gang?”

She hesitated at that. Truly, what place in all of Equestria was safer than a dragon’s hoard? “I… I’m not sure. It’s a truly generous offer, but I need time to think about it.”

Another of his thoughtful hums. “I do not intend to press you, but I must insist you stay for a few days more, if only to recover physically and mentally from your recent ordeal. No guest of mine will leave unhealthy and unprepared.”

Suspicion returned to Rarity at his words. He might be a perfectly polite drake, but she was still unsure if she could trust him. What would happen if ‘a few days more’ turned into ‘a few weeks more’ and beyond? It was entirely possible he looked upon her as nothing more than an addition to his hoard.

The very idea raised her hackles; Rarity Belle belonged to nobody, not even a dragon. Still, she couldn’t very well attempt to escape right now, could she? “I suppose a few days wouldn’t hurt.”

His smile lit up the room more brightly than all the magilights combined. “Wonderful! Rook to D1. Checkmate.”

“What?”





The Diamond Dogs had their own community in the caves, but Rarity wasn’t roomed there. Given her rough arrival, it was decided that she should steer clear of that area for now lest she bump into somepup (as they liked to say) offended by her prior antics. And so she found herself in one of the unused storage rooms, which could hardly be called glamorous, but it was close to Spike’s lair. Yes, ‘lair’. He insisted.

Was the room small or large by Diamond Dog standards? She couldn’t say. Spike’s assistant Jewelbone had already left, so she couldn’t ask. She would assume it to be average. It was some ten by ten feet in size, the edges curved and rough. But they’d moved a royal-sized bed with three mattresses, silk sheets, and a cotton quilt into the space. At her request, a workstation had been delivered so that she could make some adjustments to her current attire. Aside from a magilight lamp set in the corner, the place was bare.

Rarity could already see ways she’d like to improve the space. Better lighting, a wardrobe in that corner, perhaps some decorative displays. And mannequins, lots of mannequins, with a rack for holding the threads and fabrics and a cabinet for all her sewing supplies and…

Closing her eyes, she took a long, deep breath. When they opened again, the room was just a room, all her little ideas cleansed from her mind. What was the point of thinking about improvements? She wasn’t going to be staying here that long. At least, she didn’t intend to. Her mind played over the possibilities as she settled on the edge of the bed, her rump sinking deep into the feather-soft mattress. She imagined herself spending her days at that workstation, making new dresses for herself and parading around before Spike.

The image left an empty pit in her stomach. Especially when she imagined Spike’s appreciative gaze.

Was that what he wanted? Perhaps it was arrogant of her to think that way. What reason would he have to see her as a prize? Yet she couldn’t stop thinking of the old breezie tales about dragons capturing fair maidens. Who knew, there might be something to those stories. Rarity was confident enough in her looks to think she might qualify as a maiden, though she cringed at the thought of being the stereotypical ‘maiden in distress’. She could handle herself.

Spike had been nothing but a gentledrake. He was also fabulously wealthy, far beyond her wildest dreams. If he really wanted some mare to pose for him, surely he could just pay one to live here. There were certainly ponies who would agree, and eagerly. But then, Rarity wasn’t one of those ponies. Did that make her a more enticing catch?

“You’re being ridiculous, Rarity,” she muttered to herself, arms crossed about her stomach. She felt as though she might become ill. “You have no reason to think Spike looks at you that way.” Except for the stallion who attempted to rape her, the griffons who tried to enslave her, the buffalo who might have been trying to kill her, and the Diamond Dogs who thought she was a thief on sight. Okay, that last one was unfair, she admitted to herself. I did waltz through their private sanctum through a back door unannounced.

Still, how was she to believe that this was any different?

Her eyes turned to the thick tome at her side. Spike had let her keep the book for now, in case she wanted to learn more about the Bank. Maybe not about the that, but what about him? Using her magic to pull the lamp closer to the bed, she settled against the headboard and set the book in her lap.

If she was going to find proof for her fears, this was her best bet.
> Episode 06: Motivation
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


28th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


It had been nice to work on clothes again. Rarity had missed the endeavor far more than she’d realized. To craft, to adjust, to sew and stitch and measure and create. For a moment she’d felt as if she’d been back at home working on another order for Night Squash. Spike had given her a dress, plain at her request. She got rid of the ‘bell’ on the sleeves in favor of some thick shoulder padding, changed the front buttons so that there were two columns of them instead of one, and altered the chest to provide better support for her breasts. She also adjusted the waist with a little extra fabric, creating tight vertical folds to accentuate the shape of her hips. A few adjustments to the trim, a bit of added lace to make the bodice appear separate from the skirt, and she had a sleek ‘businessmare’ outfit, a favorite style of hers.

But with the outfit done, Rarity had fallen on a bout of melancholy. She’d made a dress, and it was lovely… but who would she show it off to? The Diamond Dogs did seem to appreciate fashion – if Mr. Gold had been a good example of his people, that is – but the ones that lived here were still watching her with suspicion. It seemed that even Spike’s blessing couldn’t convince them to forgive how she snuck into the most heavily guarded portion of their home.

Would Spike like it? Perhaps. He seemed to really enjoy her company. Try as she might, she’d detected no deception in that. Then again, he had faked his chess skills to lure her into a trap, the scoundrel. That loss still stung… but only a little.

She heaved a deep sigh and burrowed her muzzle into one of the soft pillows of her guest bed. There could be no denying Rarity wanted to show off her skills. To be in the market, to attend fashion events, to be a star. That wouldn’t happen here, no matter how enthusiastic the locals may or may not be.

But if she were to leave, how long would she last? Spike offered her sanctuary. Safety. There was no way the Bad Apple Gang would come looking for her down here, and Spike had no reason to trade her given the vast wealth he’d amassed over the centuries. She could stay. She probably should.

And yet… Her eyes drifted to the large, leather-bound book he’d given her.





Spike had given orders to let Rarity enter his domicile at any time she liked, so none of the guards blocked her entry. They did give her peering, scowling stares as she passed the doors, though. She didn’t blame them their scrutiny.

A quiet song was playing in the chamber. Rarity recognized the soft, pleasant voice as belonging to the Angel of Elysium. She used to own a couple records. Most ponies did; the Angel had been extremely popular once.

The dragon himself lay atop his hoard near one of the vast chamber’s walls. A massive table, each leg larger than any tree Rarity had ever seen in the Crystal Hills, was before him. She could not see what he was looking at, but he seemed very intent upon it. He did not seem to notice her arrival. His eyes were narrowed and shifting left to right repeatedly. Reading something, perhaps? The music came from a regular-sized phonograph settled on the corner of the table, just visible from Rarity’s comparatively low height. How in Equestria did he ever use something so relatively small?

Not wanting to disturb him and curious to watch, Rarity settled herself down on the silk-covered mattress she’d used the day before. At least, she assumed it had been yesterday. Without daylight and no clocks around, she had no idea exactly how long she’d been in the caves. Come to think of it, she’d not seen any form of timekeeping in the underground at all. How did the Diamond Dogs and Spike keep track of things and run a successful banking headquarters without some obvious means of determining time?

There was a shuffling sound like parchment. She looked up to see Spike now held a sheet of pale yellow paper in his claw that was several times wider and taller than the mattress she now sat on. Since when did anypony make paper of such a scale? She even saw writing on the parchment, large and flowing and neat. Where did he find a quill large enough to write that?

His eyes drifted towards her for an instant, not seeming to recognize her.

Then he gave a light gasp and turned to her with an eager, almost childish smile. “Lady Rarity! How lovely to see you. The dress looks…” He paused, losing his smile as he took in the blue businessmare’s dress. His smile returned, this time a little lopsided. “Amazing. Did you redesign it yourself?”

The look on his face was a familiar one, having appeared on plenty of stallions in Rarity’s time. She’d never imagined seeing it on a dragon. Should she be frightened? Flattered? She folded her hands together in her lap to keep them from giving away her anxiety and tried to offer her most confident smile. “But of course. It was a simple matter. Fashion is my life, after all.”

“I can see it.” He nodded, glanced at the paper in his hands, then at her. After a moment’s consideration, he let the piece of parchment fall back to the table. “I can work later. I’d much rather spend some more time with you.” He reached for the phonograph.

“Leave it.” At his curious glance, she added with a sincere smile, “I’m rather fond of the Angel.”

He hummed and turned to face her properly. “As am I. I was greatly saddened when I heard what happened.” A shake of his sizeable head. “But I won’t burden you with such distressing talk. Can I get you anything? Tea? A bite to eat?” He raised a claw in preparation to snap his talons, waiting only for her word.

Rarity licked her lips and, despite herself, rubbed at her necklace. “I ate already, thank you. I actually had something I wanted to ask you about.”

He lowered his claw and bowed his head. “Of course. I am at your service.”

“I… I read some of the book you let me borrow.”

Cocking his head, Spike smiled. Did he have to put forth an effort to keep from showing his fangs? “Learning a little about the Bank’s history? Wonderful! I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.”

He certainly seemed eager to please. Rarity smoothed her skirt to buy time to recall her earlier thoughts. “From what little I’ve read so far, it seems you like your solitude. Does nopony out there know you are a dragon?”

He pressed his cheek to his palm, appearing perfectly content as he studied her. “No. It is the Bank’s most closely guarded secret.”

“Why?”

The response came quickly and smoothly. “Everypony knows dragons are inherently greedy, more so than Diamond Dogs by far. How many do you think would really trust a bank run by one? They’d think I was trying to rob them blind.”

Rarity wanted to debate this, but instead paused to consider the argument. When it came down to it, would she have agreed to opening a bank account if she’d known a creature like Spike was at its helm? Her heart shouted yes, but the rational half of her mind cast the other side a disdainful look. If she were honest with herself…

“I suppose I can see your point.” She sighed and leaned back, palms set behind her for leverage while she looked up at him. “I suppose you think yourself more noble than the average dragon.”

He hummed once again and sat up. Rubbing his chin, he raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought. “That’s not such an easy claim. I’m less violent than the average dragon, certainly, but more noble? How does one gauge that? We make charitable donations, but so do scoundrels who get rich by working with desert gangs under the radar, so that’s not really a good measure.”

Chewing her lip, Rarity decided to take a gamble. “I didn’t see anything in the book about your life before the Bank.”

“The book is about the Bank, not me.” He must have seen the disappointment in her face, for he fidgeted and blushed. “It’s really not that interesting.”

“Oh, but it is!” She sat up straight once more, the movement catching his attention. “You said you learned economics before you came here. Who taught you?”

His eyes widened, his mouth falling open slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he began twiddling his talons. It reminded Rarity of a little colt trying not to admit he liked fillies, which is to say, fetchingly cute. Funny, she never thought she’d apply the term ‘cute’ to a dragon, or any creature larger than a sand lizard for that matter. He muttered something so quiet she couldn’t make out the words.

Raising an eyebrow, Rarity found herself rising up on her knees and turning her ears forward. “I beg your pardon?”

He winced and turned his head away. “It was… Princess Celestia.”

Rarity blinked. Blinked again. “Come again?”

He hid his eyes behind a claw and groaned. “It was Princess Celestia, okay?”

There was the name again! Excitement bubbled up in Rarity as she realized how serious he was. “You met… Princess Celestia?” The squeal came out unchecked through her grin. “By Luna’s stars! That must have been amazing!”

“Yes, I spent ten years in the Royal Palace learning about ponies. I was just a whelp at the time, not even as tall as you are!” Spike crossed his arms and hunched over, appearing to sulk. He even had a blush, much to Rarity’s pleasure. “Yes, yes, the big mighty dragon was friends with a pansy pony princess.”

Rarity’s bubbly mood faded at his scowl, her ears going flat. “You didn’t like her?”

He glanced at her, then sighed and shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just that the one time I went to the Burning Lands after coming to Equestria, the other dragons knew. It didn’t win me any mates, that’s for sure.”

“B-but Celestia!” Rarity leaned forward once more, fingers at the edge of the mattress as she gazed up at him. “How could they make fun of her? Surely she was powerful enough to scare even a dragon.”

Spike scoffed and waved a dismissive claw. “Celestia and Luna were certainly strong enough to easily defeat any dragon that might challenge them. Despite what the Church claims, that didn’t make them deities, nor was it why the ponies loved them. They were—” He paused, his eyes staring at something far away. The slump of his shoulders deepened. “They were just good ponies.”

Rarity wanted to ask more, but the change in mood made her hesitate. She watched him as he appeared to ruminate in the past, a long frown on his lips. Could the memories be so fresh, even after a thousand years? When several minutes passed without him recovering, she ventured to call out. “Spike?”

He shivered as if coming out of a trance, his gaze landing upon her once more. He said nothing at first. Then, with a long exhale, he closed his eyes. “I am sorry, Lady Rarity. Celestia was a teacher to me, and Luna a dear friend. They took in a lost dragon whelp who hated where he’d come from, but had no idea where he was going. I had been away from them for half a century when they were lost to us, but I still took it… poorly.”

His sorrowful expression cut into her heart. She dropped back to a sitting position and turned away. Now you’ve done it, Rarity. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to intrude on something so personal.”

“Do not be sorry.” He could make his voice surprisingly soft for a dragon. “You didn’t know. And I understand that ponies of this age have developed some ideas about them. Why, Luna even has her own flourishing religion.” His brow furrowed and his mouth twisted into a scowl. “She wouldn’t like that. Not one bit.”

Just like that, he had Rarity’s attention once more. “Luna wouldn’t have liked the Church of the Night Mother?”

The scowl softened, but only a little. “It was Celestia who basked in the admiration of her subjects. Luna was far more personable.” He shook his head as if to clear it before settling down on his belly once more. “I think we’ve gotten off track. You had questions for me?”

Oh, how she wanted to pick his brain for more information on the Sisters! But now that she knew how uncomfortable the subject made him, Rarity realized it was a topic to be avoided, especially if she wanted to keep on his good side. Which was imperative, all things considered.

So she reluctantly cast the topic aside in favor of something more direct to her interests. “You have a lot of things stored in these caves, items not being used at all. Is that part of your hoarding instinct?”

“Hoarding?” He examined the mountain of gems beneath him. “This is my hoard. I… Oh! You mean the storage rooms. Nah, that’s for trade.”

Rarity tilted her head to one side. “Trade? But I thought you ran a bank.”

“That’s right, but I’ve learned it can be beneficial not to focus all my efforts in one area. The Bank does have its bad days, weeks, years…” He shuffled a bit, his fanged smile turning sheepish. “Decades.” A quick cough into his claw and he was back to his neutral, pleasant manner. “These caves act as a trading hub. The town of Rockstead is the face of that enterprise. The ponies there trade under the Rambling Company banner, which is a front business for the Bank.”

She nodded. “So it’s all your property.”

His brow furrowed as he examined her. Wondering where she was going with this, perhaps. “Technically, it’s all the Bank’s property. Until it is sold, of course.”

“But you are the Bank, are you not?”

Grumbling and shifting from side to side, he muttered, “Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be too far off the mark.”

“Have you ever bought a pony?”

His head jerked back and his eyes went wide. “What? No. Why would you ever suggest such a thing?”

She peered at him, fingers tracing her necklace. “I didn’t skim everything in the book. You once bought an entire town.”

One eye narrowed while the other widened. Had he eyebrows, she imagined he’d be raising one now. “Hollow Shades? That was property.”

“And how am I to know that for sure?” Rarity didn’t intend to stand up, but somehow found that she had. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides as she met the dragon’s gaze. “Your book has an unfortunate habit of skipping details, such as the fact you are a dragon. What other details might have been glossed over, I wonder?”

Spike rubbed a claw over his scaled head, his shoulders hunching. “Just what are you trying to get at?”

So, he wanted it out in the open, did he? Rarity didn’t expect an honest answer, but she felt the time was finally right to confront the topic head on. She slapped a hand to her chest and spoke in her most demanding tone. “What will I be?”

He opened his mouth wide, an act that abruptly reminded her of just how many teeth he had… not to mention how big and sharp they were. It also reminded her of how small she was compared to him, and possibly scrumptious. Her hand twitched for her side, but Silver Lining was back in her ‘guest room’. Not that it would have done her any good, but it would have at least been a comfort.

Spike wasn’t attempting to threaten her. She could tell by the confused look in his eyes, though that didn’t lessen the impact of seeing a massive mouth capable of swallowing her whole. In reality, it appeared he was at a loss for words. At least, she hoped that was the case.

Mercifully, he finally clapped his jaw closed, the sound ricocheting through the cavern. He gave a snort that produced a small cloud of ash, which promptly floated up out of a small vertical tunnel near the top of the cavern. “Rarity, I still don’t know what you’re saying.”

The tension left her. She gave a long exhale and decided to sit back down before the knocking of her knees started to echo through the chamber. Properly settled, she looked up at him once more and spoke in a more demure voice. “You made your position last night clear: you want me to stay.”

The frustration on his face was wiped away, promptly replaced by an eager smile. “Yes. I very much would like that.”

She nodded and averted her gaze. “I’d be in one of the storage rooms. I’d come in here frequently to entertain and be pretty for you. You’d dress me up in all the nicest clothes, or give me the tools to make them, and give me all the best treats and gifts. Like a… doll.” Swallowing to moisten her dry throat, she timidly met his gaze. “Would I be your property, Spike?”

He stared at her as if she’d just grown a second head. “Umm… No.” Seeing she wasn’t convinced, he sighed and shook his head. “Rarity, did I not tell you that you were free to leave?”

“You did.” She bowed her head and toyed with the folds of her dress. “But for all I know, you were just saying that.”

“I wasn’t just saying it!” When she looked up at him, he leaned away, neck craning back and a pained expression on his face. “I wasn’t. Please, don’t fear me. I… I just wanted someone to talk to. I saw your Element and I hoped…”

Despite the depressing mood the conversation had placed her in, Rarity’s attention did an abrupt about-face. Her ears perked as she looked down at the necklace. Had the purple she’d seen before grown more pronounced? “You recognize this?”

“Of course,” he replied in a dejected tone. “It belonged to Luna.”

Rarity’s breath caught in her throat. She grabbed the golden plate of the necklace and examined the gemstone a little more closely. “Th-this belonged to the Princess Luna?”

Now it was Spike’s turn to break out of the somber mood of before. He leaned forward just a little. “You mean you didn’t know? I thought, as an Element Bearer, it would be obvious.”

She looked up at that curious term. “Element Bearer? What do you mean?”

He nodded. “Yes. Element Bearer.” A pause. “As in the Elements of Harmony?”

Rarity released the necklace as if it might burn her. “E-Element of Harmony? Surely you don’t mean to tell me that this is one of the most sacred gems in Equestrian history.”

To her alarm, Spike leaned closer, his serpentine head dropping down practically to the floor. His massive snout dwarfed her as it moved in close, and then he turned his head to peer at her necklace with a lone eye. A whimper escaped her throat as she was once again reminded of just how big he was.

He gave a thoughtful hum that shook her to her bones, but when he spoke his voice was startlingly quiet. “Yes… definitely an Element. I can sense the magic waking within. It is an easy aura to recognize. Generosity, if the color is anything to go by.”

This thing? The Element of Generosity? Such a prospect left Rarity in a numb state. If that was true, then it was nothing less than a holy relic! One of the six magical weapons that defeated Discord and restored harmony to all of Equestria. Wielded by the Princesses themselves in battle, thought lost forever alongside their former owners. How in the wide world of Equestria had Coco’s mother come across something like this?

But wait… that child of the buffalo, Little Strongheart. She had one too.

Suddenly, all Rarity’s fantasies came crashing down. There was no way that uncouth little devil was worthy to carry an Element. Which could only mean hers wasn’t the real thing, and if that was the case, then this…

She sagged, a complex mixture of relief and disappointment washing over her. “No. You must be mistaken. It’s just an unusual gemstone.”

“Nope.” Spike drew back to his pile of gems and shifted about, nestling himself within the mass of shiny stones. “No mistake, that’s an Element. And what’s more, it appears to have chosen you as its Bearer.”

Was he trying to pull her along? Whatever his purpose, Rarity didn’t feel like arguing about it. She had far more immediate concerns to deal with. “So does that make me a more valuable commodity?”

With a roll of his eyes, he gave another ash-filled snort. “It was never my intention to own you, Rarity. Even if it had been, that wouldn’t be possible now.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his manner. “Whatever do you mean?”

He pointed a lone talon at her necklace. “That is an Element of Harmony. They haven’t been active in centuries. If one is awake, that means something.” Then, as if an idea had abruptly come to him, his eyes lit up and he straightened. “Wait. It means something.”

There was a desire in his gaze, but not of the kind Rarity was accustomed to warding off. She leaned back, raising her arm over the necklace as if to protect it. “It means what, exactly?”

“An Element of Harmony doesn’t just—” he waved his claws in the air as if to mime something rising with a splash “—wake up. They react. They communicate. They do. Princess Celestia said that while they don’t have minds as we think of them, they are drawn to their purpose and will make things happen if they sense the need to.”

Rarity shook her head, running her fingers over the gemstone. “I’m still not convinced this is an Element. For all I know, it’s just a necklace. A necklace given to me by a dear friend, might I add.”

His head tilted slightly to one side. “A dear friend? Well, that only makes me more confident in my theory. But an Element of Harmony doesn’t belong in some hoard. I wouldn’t be able to hold on to it even if I wanted to. It chose you as its Bearer. It would find a way back to you.”

Wow. He really believes this. Rarity shook her head and tried to relax, letting her arm fall and settling on her knees yet again. “So let’s assume what you say is true. What exactly am I meant to do with an Element?”

His brow furrowed. He brought his claw up to scratch his cheek with a lone talon. “I couldn’t say. If we were to go the ambitious route, I’d say ‘reunite Equestria’. Speaking realistically, it could be anything. Who knows what the Element is reacting to?”

Reunite Equestria? Take the five major city states and convince them to get along? Just getting any two of them to communicate beyond basic trade agreements was near impossible. Rarity had to agree that whatever the thing wanted, it would be something more practical. That assumed the necklace really was an Element of Harmony in the first place, of course.

Which it was not, and Rarity had little interest in entertaining the notion any longer. Stiffening her shoulders and sitting up straight, she looked up to Spike, who still possessed his contemplative expression. He looked as if his attention was worlds away.

“Spike? I intend to leave this place.”

He hummed, eyes still locked on some distant nothingness. “Yes, that’s probably for the best.”

Her argument died on her lips. She stared at him, mouth opening and closing. “B-but… I thought you wanted me to stay.”

“I do.” He turned his eyes upon her and smiled, but it was a sad expression. “I have greatly enjoyed your company. And you should probably still stay for another day or two, just in case.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Is that because you’re worried about my health or because you don’t want me to leave?”

His scaled cheeks turned a bright red and he began twiddling his claws, something she was starting to recognize as a habit. “Um… can it not be both?”

Not prepared to give into his bashfulness – no matter how endearing it might be – Rarity crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “So you don’t want me to go, but you’re going to make me go anyway? Or do you intend to forestall my departure for so long that eventually I just give in and become part of your collection?”

Was that a pout? By Luna’s stars, Rarity had no idea a dragon could pout! He gave a sound not unlike a whine as he fought for a response. “Look, the Element chose you. I can’t interfere with that. Celestia and Luna would want it to be up there, helping people.” He steadily regained his confidence as he spoke. “Because that’s what the Elements of Harmony do, Rarity. They help. Ponies. Dragons. Diamond Dogs. Whatever! They are a force for good, but they need Bearers to channel their power and make it happen.

“I want you to stay,” he concluded with firm finality. “But I am not going to stand in the way of an Element and its rightful purpose.”

Rarity wanted to say something… but what was she supposed to say to that? She’d been so certain he was trying to make her stay, that the moment she tried to leave the Diamond Dogs would grab her and throw her back in here. But he seemed so sure of himself, so focused. He wouldn’t have anything to gain by trying to fool her into thinking he wanted her to leave just to snatch her back, so she simply had to accept his words as honest. And if he had been honest about that…

Her ears folded down as she slumped. “Oh, Spike. I am so sorry. I accused you of things just because you’re a dragon. I wish I had trusted you before.”

Spike’s sigh rumbled like an earthquake in miniature. “It’s alright, Rarity. Really. Ponies haven’t had many interactions with my kind, and those few instances everyone recalls all ended poorly. You are right to not trust dragons.” He rested his chin on the ground not far from her, eyes downcast. “It’s why we keep my role with the Bank secret, after all.”

At his depressed appearance, Rarity stood and walked over to rub her hand on his snout. “Oh, you poor thing. For what it’s worth, I am glad I met you, and am ashamed that I treated you so unfairly.”

His eye drifted to her. Darted away. Slowly came back. He smiled in the manner of a colt who’d just worked up the nerve to talk to a pretty filly. “Thanks. I’m, uh, glad I met you too, Rarity.”

She ran a finger around one of his scales, which was as wide as both her palms put together. “And to make it up to you, I promise to stick around for at least another day or two. There’s no rush, right? And I must admit, you have been giving me the royal treatment. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to feel like a pampered princess again.”

His smile broadened. “Well, then! I’ll make sure my friends give you the best treatment available. You know, as incentive to pay us a visit later.”

Giggling, she nodded. “I just might.”





They weren’t the same shirt and jeans Rarity had worn upon arriving in the caves. The shirt was made from fresh cotton, the buttons brown to go with the similarly colored vest she wore over it. Her necklace remained hidden beneath her shirt, which had been designed specifically to mask its presence. Her jeans were a paler blue than before, having been bleached somewhat in the hopes that a more muted color would keep it from absorbing too much heat when she was out in the sun. The straps were perfect for Silver Lining’s belt holster, having been designed with that in mind. She’d even made herself a cowboy hat that curved up a little at the edge and some light boots, rounding out the ensemble quite nicely.

But Rarity couldn’t enjoy the look, no matter how good she thought it appeared. To finally wear the product of two days’ careful labor left her with a sullen heart. She turned from the mirror she’d been supplied with and looked to the small desk near the foot of her bed. Silver Lining was there, untouched in three days that had come and gone far too quickly.

The same question came to Rarity’s mind that had plagued her all this time: why did she want to leave? No good would come of it, surely. Up there she was hunted, nothing more than a target for unscrupulous bounty hunters. She had no home to go to, no destination in mind. She’d be well stocked thanks to Spike and the Diamond Dogs, but what about when those stocks ran out? She could afford more for now, but the money in her account wouldn’t last forever. She’d be hot and tired and scared and dirty all the time.

She could stay. The Diamond Dogs would keep her happy. The best food, the snuggliest bed, all the materials and tools she’d ever need to make an untold number of dresses. And Spike was such good company, truly a gentledrake and a pinnacle among dragons. Sometimes he still seemed like a little colt in his manner, but there was also a certain wisdom in him. He was kind and honest and, yes, even generous at times. Under his watchful gaze, nothing bad would ever happen to her. Nothing at all…

She cast her eyes about her guest room, slowly taking it all in. She had her temporary workstation, her sewing kit and materials, her lovely bed. Behind all of that? Just rock. Plain. Dull. Entrapping. Claustrophobic. That this someday might be the image of home to her left an empty feeling in her chest.

Her gaze fell upon a lone mannequin in the corner, still wearing the businessmare’s dress she’d developed on her first day here. She stared at it, imagining more dresses. In her mind’s eye, she could see her in more and more elegant gowns. Turning before Spike and asking his opinion. Enjoying his pleased smile. Loving the way he admired her beauty. And every day, being just a little bit older, a little bit less interested in leaving, a little more attached to being on display.

Oh, I don’t know. I for one would love to be put on a pedestal.

Tensing, her face set in a grimace, Rarity turned away from the dress. Her hands were balled into fists as she took slow, deep breaths. When she noticed Silver Lining yet again, she snatched the gun up and checked its cylinder. Full. Her eyes landed on the mirror, and she took in her tomboyish attire. She met her own fiery gaze and gave a light snort.

“I will never be a doll.”

She shoved Silver Lining into the harness and stalked out of the room, not sure if she ever wanted to see it again.





Rarity stood with hands on her hips, staring up at Spike. For his part, he was returning the look with a solemn, hard expression. It was a ruse, made obvious by the way his eyes were fighting not to close and the small twitch of his lips.

After what seemed like an eternity, he muttered, “So you’re leaving.”

She maintained her firm look, even though her heart felt as if it had been chained to an anvil. “We both knew this was coming.”

“Yes. I suppose we did.” He intertwined his claws and glanced aside. “I… don’t suppose I could—”

She stopped that train of thought before it could pick up steam. “I’m going, Spike. Today. I won’t delay it any further.” There was too much of a chance she’d get too used to the place. Not that she’d say such a thing out loud. No point adding fuel to the fire.

His stony façade showed signs of structural failure, his mouth working slowly as if to fight the coming frown. “M-maybe… just one more game?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Spike.”

He closed his eyes and heaved a long, slow exhale, the neutral expression at last collapsing. “I’m sorry. It’s just… I am going to miss you, Lady Rarity.”

At that, she finally let her own mask drop, giving him what she hoped was a pleasant smile. It felt forced, but maybe he wouldn’t notice. “I’ll miss you too, Spike.”

He gave her a shy smile, but then his head rose slightly and his eyes widened. He seemed lost in thought. He raised a lone talon— “One moment.” — before turning to sift through the top of a nearby gem pile. Rarity watched with a feeling of combined dread and curiosity.

“Ah, there you are.”

She straightened up as he turned back to her, something small in one of his claws. There was that smile she’d become so familiar with, the one that made him look like an eager colt hoping to please. “I have a gift for you. Something to keep as a reminder of this place, and… maybe… tempt you to visit sometime?” The claw came down until it was level with her chest. Eyebrows raised, Rarity stepped a little closer and, with hands on his palm, took a look.

She sucked in a breath at the sight of the loveliest handgun she’d ever laid eyes on. The pistol was significantly larger than Silver Lining, with a barrel that struck her as unusually long and wide. The entire weapon had been dyed a pinkish red, with a beautiful maroon grip of solid wood. Tiny rubies speckled the metal. It was an automatic bolt-action, an unusually advanced design, and she could see that the ammunition slid in through the grip.

Slowly, Rarity took the weapon in both hands, ignoring the bag next to in in favor of studying the pistol. It was heavier than Silver Lining, which gave her the impression of something powerful. Along the barrel was a name: Ruby Heart.

“Check the bullets.”

She took the bag in her magic. It was closed with a tightly bound cord which took her a moment to get loose. At last, a bullet rose in her pale aura, and the size made her gasp. She turned the casing about with wide eyes, noting the large ‘45’ etched on the rim bottom. She flipped the bullet around and let out a small “oh” at the bright red color. It took only a second to realize the tip of the bullet was a tiny ruby. Her interest piqued, she grabbed a few more bullets and found that each and every one had a ruby tip.

An eager tone graced Spike’s words. “The Ruby Heart is enchanted. Ruby-tipped bullets fired from it will be more accurate.” He grinned when she looked up at him. “It was scavenged from the swamps of Siren’s Pass. Perhaps it is a relic from Finland, if you believe in such things.”

Rarity’s throat had gone dry and her heart was trying to fill up the vacant space. “Spike… I… I can’t accept something like this.”

“Please.” He displayed his palms to her in a supplicating gesture. “Take it. Your company has made the last few days brighter. It’s the least I can offer.”

“B-but…” She pulled Silver Lining out and displayed it to him. “But I already have a gun, see? I don’t even have a holster for another one.”

“And you’ll be even safer if you have two guns for two types of bullets.” He clasped his claws together and bowed his head. “Please, Rarity. It’ll do this young drake good to know you are protected. It gives me hope that I’ll see you again.” He raised his head just enough to look at her with a hopeful gaze. “You will come to visit me again… won’t you?”

Rarity could feel her mental defenses melting. How was it that a creature so big and imposing could have all the adorable charm of a clueless colt out of his league? Of course, Rarity usually let down those types as gently as she could. But Spike wasn’t some teenager or young stallion hoping to meet her (admittedly demanding) standards. He was a dragon, and he was lonely, and he’d done everything he could to make her stay in his domain a pleasant one.

And, she realized with a small smile, she would very much like to see him again. Holding the bag of bullets and the Ruby Heart to her chest, she turned that smile upon his eager gaze. “Of course I will.”

If his grin got any brighter, it might have melted his hoard.





If Rarity regretted anything about her time beneath the Dragon’s Teeth, it was that she’d not made an effort to get to know any of the Diamond Dogs. In her defense, they hadn’t seemed all that interested in befriending her either. Still, it made it just a touch awkward for her to be following one right now.

She’d met the brown-coated dog in question a number of times. Jewelbone was taller than the others Rarity had seen in the tunnels and sported a lean, muscular figure. She wore grey, pinstriped pants that stopped just below the knees and a baggy blue shirt. The most attractive part of her ensemble by far was a reddish brown jacket with opals for buttons. None of it appealed to Rarity’s refined fashion sense, but at least it appeared well cared for. She had to give the Diamond Dogs credit, they had high quality clothes. Even if they didn’t know how to wear them.

Her thoughts turned to Spike, who had watched her go with a face so forlorn she’d half expected him to break out in tears. She’d inquired if he wanted to take her outside himself, but he’d declined. It involved too great a risk of being seen, especially with so many griffons about lately. A disappointing decision, as she would have liked to have spent just a little more time with him – and she was wondering just how he was supposed to get out of the cavern in the first place.

It wasn’t just Spike who occupied Rarity’s mind. Now that she was leaving, her thoughts drifted to names she’d not thought of in a few days. Guilt ate at her insides as she wondered about the fate of Troublemaker, Hard Knocks, and Swing Set. Anyone in the convoy, really. Had they been hurt by the griffons? Had the buffalo escorted them out of the Scorched Plains as promised? And what of Fleetfeather? Would Little Strongheart’s grandfather see reason and let him live?

By sheer proximity, she’d touched so many lives in the last few weeks. Now she had Spike to add to that list. And what of Coco? She dearly hoped the young mare was making good on her promises. Rarity wouldn’t be happy unless her former apprentice was set to be the next great star of the fashion industry. Sisters knew she wouldn’t get that opportunity.

She tugged on the strap of her new backpack, given to her by Jewelbone before they left the main area of the inhabited caves. It was much larger than her old one, rising a little above her shoulder and dropping just low enough that it would touch the back of her legs if she took long strides. Big, but not uncomfortably so, and stocked with enough food and water to keep her going for two weeks even if she ate liberally. Best of all, it was one of those exceedingly rare enchanted packs that felt much lighter than its size and contents would suggest.

Her gaze turned to her guide’s back. Jewelbone hadn’t said much, not during this little walk or the entire time she’d been acting as Rarity’s liaison with the rest of her kind. She wasn’t much of a talker, apparently. Not that she was rude. Just… quiet.

Sucking on her lower lip for a moment, Rarity spoke. “I wanted to thank you.”

One of Jewelbone’s ears tilted back. No other sign of acknowledgement was offered.

Even so, Rarity pressed on. “You and the other Diamond Dogs tolerated me, despite my rather rough entrance. And you always got me what I asked for. I know you were probably just obeying Spike’s orders, but still, thank you for the hospitality.”

At that, Jewelbone turned her head just enough to cast a long, one-eyed gaze at her. She had a curiously shaped face, with smooth cheeks but a hard chin, and sunken eyes that seemed more masculine than one would expect. It gave the strange sensation of her manner being both hard and soft at the same time, making her expressions hard to recognize on occasion. As usual, the one she offered now was confusing, either demonstrating a grave disdain or a thoughtful curiosity.

After a few anxious seconds, she turned her attention back to the tunnels. “Pony is lucky Boss like pony. Dogs were very angry. Wanted to hurt pony.”

Jewelbone lacked Mr. Gold’s eloquence, and her features were mystifying at best, but her voice was unquestionably feminine, bordering on dainty. Rarity rather liked it. “Yes, I imagine there are some hard feelings aimed my way. It’s probably too late to do something about that.”

The dog shrugged. “Is pony good customer of Bank?”

“But of course.”

“Then dogs will get over it.”

Rarity waited for her to elaborate, but should have known better. Was it really that simple to them? Apparently Spike was right; Diamond Dogs lived and breathed the Bank. It might have made them excellent employees, but it had to get boring for him when the people he lived and worked with every day for centuries only had one interest. Talking to her must have been like a breath of fresh air.

Great, now she was feeling guilty for leaving Spike. Again. Not for the first time, she wondered what she’d done to warrant having to leave Spurhoof and wander Equestria as a fugitive. Well, aside from the obvious, but what led to that? Maybe it was punishment for her stubborn pride, her unwillingness to go home and face her family. Or her refusal to admit that she’d been wrong to leave them behind, as if they were anything but the most important ponies in her immature, self-confident, haughty little life.

And now, like the fool she always seemed to be, she’d walked out of what would have been her single best chance to live a life of luxury and safety, without any fear of Bad Apple outlaws and random bounty hunters trying to shoot her head off. Honestly, what was wrong with her?

“This is it.”

She blinked, pulled out of her gradually darkening thoughts by Jewelbone’s pleasant voice. They were standing in a Y-shaped junction of the tunnels, which at this point were uneven and twisting and clearly natural. The Diamond Dog reached out with one of those long, slender arms and pointed down a tunnel. “Pony go that way to get to exit. No other paths, so can’t get lost. Rockstead pony town is short walk east.”

“I see.” Rarity clutched the straps of her pack and sucked on her lip. This was it. She’d be on her own again. If she could will her legs to move…

“This for pony.”

Her fears stalled by the unexpected statement, Rarity set her gaze on Jewelbone’s outstretched paw. In it was a small sphere that appeared to be made of glass. It was a light green color with pale white splotches inside like trapped, immobile clouds. What sort of object was this supposed to be? She reached out and found it fit neatly in her palm, being just small enough that the tips of her fingers could barely touch her thumb.

Then she tried lifting it and felt her eyebrows rise at the resistance. It was much heavier than it looked, although not so much as to be a burden. She brought it closer to her face and peered, but saw nothing to make its purpose clear. “What is it?”

Jewelbone’s toothy grin was playful. “Touch with pony magic and see.”

Rarity obeyed, igniting her horn and letting a tiny bit of her magic slip over the orb. It promptly began emitting a green aura that easily drowned out the light of her own. Inside the sphere came a series of numbers, fifteen in all. That was interesting at first, but when the orb failed to do anything else Rarity cocked her head. “I don’t understand.”

Her guide nodded, expression patient. “Boss want to know of pony friend in the world. Message Orb usually given only to Division Managers for Bank, but Boss like pony, so pony get one too.” She reached out to tap the orb lightly with a padded finger. “Show Message Orb to Post Office or Bank. Employee confirm number and let pony send letter to Boss.”

Something bubbled up within Rarity. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it had her grinning like a foal. “You mean I can write to Spike at any time?”

Jewelbone nodded once more, her ears flapping loosely. “Big deal. Rare pony be given Message Orb. Pony very lucky.”

The idea brought a measure of hope to Rarity. Even if she was alone out there, she still had someone to talk to. If she told Spike what her plans were, he might be able to send letters ahead and respond. Just the thought of having a friend to communicate with while she traveled brought a weight off her shoulders.

But then a thought struck her and the excitement faded. “But what if my letters are intercepted? I… I can’t let my location be known so easily.” She flinched at Jewelbone’s peering look. “It’s complicated.”

Jewelbone thought on this for a moment, scratching her side as she did. “Magic Post Ponies can send letter to Boss with magic. Not do for free, though.” She shrugged. “Only idea Jewelbone can offer. Sorry.”

“You know, I think that will work. Thank you.” But Rarity’s mood had been soured by another thought. She took a moment to put the orb away in a pocket of her vest. Then, sucking in a slow breath, she faced Jewelbone directly and at her full height. Which wasn’t saying much – Diamond Dogs were startlingly tall creatures – but she needed to appear in command of herself. “Miss Jewelbone, I understand the Diamond Dogs are not fond of me.”

“Armed pony sneaks into dog home without anypup noticing. Armed pony runs with gun drawn to Boss’s room.” Jewelbone said these things lightly, as if they meant little to her. Her next words, however, came out solemn. “Many dogs not happy with pony. Boss’s word keeps pony safe, but dogs not happy, no.”

“I know.” Keeping her hands clasped behind her back so as to not give away her anxiety, Rarity pursed her lips and met Jewelbone’s gaze. “Would you please give them my most sincere apologies? I’d offer you all something to make up for my mistake, but I’m afraid I don’t know what I can offer that would appease all of you.”

Jewelbone peered at her, ears rolled forward and shoulders hunched. Rarity tried to read the expression, but it wasn’t easy. Anger? Curiosity? Mere thoughtfulness? The dog’s face was a puzzle, even compared to other dogs. Rarity thought she might start sweating under that gaze.

But then Jewelbone grinned and shrugged. “Pony be good Bank customer. Dogs forgive pretty quick.” She barked a laugh at Rarity, who imagined her confusion was as plain as the horn on her head. “Pony no worry! Boss like pony, pony good with Bank, dogs will forgive. Dogs good at forgiving.” She tapped the side of her head. “One-track minds.”

Hardly ideal… but it would have to do for now. Rarity wasn’t exactly in a position to try earning forgiveness at the moment. She sighed and let the tension out of her shoulders. “Very well, then. Thank you, Jewelbone, for escorting me.”

“Pony is welcome. Come back and visit! Make Boss happy. Happy Boss is happy dogs.” Jewelbone flashed a toothy grin before heading back down the tunnel from whence they’d come, arms swinging in wide arcs. Within seconds, the darkness had swallowed her up, leaving Rarity alone.

She moved before any doubting thoughts could have a chance to form, entering the tunnel she’d been shown. There were no torches here, so she used her horn to light the way. It was a tricky path, rising and falling and twisting about in seemingly random ways. The blue glow, the shadows dancing eerily on the walls, the treacherous footing. It all gave Rarity a sense of déjà vu.

Worse, the longer she walked, the more her heart fluttered in her chest. What if the tunnels never ended? She could still see Little Strongheart’s wicked smile. The ghosts of hunger pangs ate at her, but she knew they weren’t real. She’d had a significant meal right before leaving!

Unless she’d been in here longer than she’d thought. Time had been confusing the last time too.

Had there been a ‘last time?’ Maybe she’d never met Spike. Maybe she’d imagined it up in a state of desperation and weariness and starvation. Maybe she was dying, and the hunger pangs were real. She licked her lips and swallowed. It did nothing for her dry mouth. She was lost, she was confused, maybe she—

Light. It had come up so gradually she’d missed it, but now that Rarity paid attention… yes, the area was brighter. She was nearing an exit! Exerting the willpower necessary to not break into a run, Rarity navigated the path with a sense of bubbling excitement. When the end of the tunnel came into sight, she gave out a gleeful cry and gave up her efforts to go slow.

It wasn’t until Rarity was outside of the cave and in the open, fresh air that she let her doubts fade entirely. She paused at the mouth of the cave and gazed upon a rocky landscape of hills set in the soft glow of dusk. As barren as it was, the sight brought a laugh to her lips.

“Oh, it feels so good to be outside!” She stretched, relishing the feel of a warm breeze on her skin, and shook her mane as if to rid it of water. Just the act of breathing felt invigorating! So much so that for a while she simply stood there and took in her inhales and exhales, delighting in the moment.

Yet the more she stood there, taking in the scenery, the more her excitement drifted. She turned around to take in the cave mouth. It was unadorned and bland. Nopony would have any reason to believe there was anything special within, much less a Diamond Dog town and a dragon. Craning her neck, she observed the tall, sharp peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth. Once she’d hoped that getting past them would give her a new start. Now?

Her thoughts drifted once more to faces she’d seen, names she’d learned, friends she’d made and lost. She so dearly hoped Troublemaker was alright. And his parents, and Coco, and Cranky, and Fleetfeather. Even Little Strongheart, though that took some work to admit.

And Spike. He’d been such a dear. She could have… could have…

Whimpering, she dropped to her knees and hugged herself. “You’re a fool, Rarity. A big, dumb, airheaded fool. You could have been safe. Why didn’t you stay?”

She knew the answer well: she couldn’t let herself become a doll. She had to live on her own terms. But to have that independence, to be her own mare…

Shivers ran up and down her spine. Her throat and eyes burned. To live life on her terms, even if it wasn’t her dream of being a fashionista, she’d have to be out here. Facing the dangers. Was it worth it? She’d spent so much time thinking about it, but had it been enough? Maybe she’d not looked at it from every angle. There could be something else, some dark truth that might have made life as a treasure in a hoard worth it.

The thought brought a frail chuckle out from between her chattering teeth. “Darker than death and slavery?”

She wanted to go back. To find her way to Spike and beg him to keep her safe and protected and alive forever. She’d make pretty dresses and pose and talk to him sweetly into the late nights that she’d never recognize for the lack of a sun and moon. Beauty and the Beast, except the beauty would be helpless and dainty and want nothing but to be protected.

The trembling stopped. “Because what is she good for?”

Sucking down a slow, deep breath, Rarity forced her arms to her sides. Her eyes remained locked on the dark cave as her fingers worked blindly with the backpack. A zipper came loose, and she groped inside until something heavy met her hand. She pulled it out and looked down at Ruby Heart, its namesake gems shimmering in the dim light of dusk. With it in her left hand, she used her right to pull out Silver Lining.

Another long breath. And another. The anxiety remained, but the fear that had brought her low faded. Slowly, her legs shaking, she forced herself to her hooves. As she did, she noticed a faint glow coming from the gem in her necklace, just visible through her shirt. A warmth spread through her, making her feel lighter, calmer, and more determined. She reached up with Ruby Heart and touched the back of her thumb to the fabric, feeling the solid presence of the necklace.

The light died. Anxiety slipped back into her mind, but Rarity’s calm remained.

Maybe it was the Element of Generosity. Maybe not. She was still not inclined to accept such an outlandish idea, even if she could acknowledge that it was more than a mere fashion statement. Whatever it was, Rarity was grateful to Coco for giving it to her. Having it on just felt… right, somehow.

With one last look at the cave, she turned east, her back to the setting sun. Somewhere up ahead was the town of Rockstead. And from there, who knew? Rarity looked to her future and saw only shadows. There were so many things that could happen, most of them deadly, and she couldn’t lie to herself and claim to be ready for it.

“But if I’m going to live…” She glanced at the pistols in her hands. Lifted them, tested their weight. “Really live, I can’t be a useless beauty. This is my life now.”

Silver Lining went back to its harness. Ruby Heart was tucked into the backpack. Rarity stood tall and fought to ignore the squirming feeling in her stomach. Lips pursed and doubts pushed away for later, she took her first step east. She found it got easier to move once she’d gotten started.

“Running away and hiding will do you no good, Rarity. Time to face this new life head on.”
> Episode 07: Rockstead
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


31st of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


Rockstead was supposed to be the primary trading hub of the Rambling Trading Company, or so Rarity had been told. She’d anticipated a booming town in the hills, perhaps not a city but certainly a sprawling center of civilization. When she got her first view of the place however, her expectations were quickly quelled.

That’s not to say the town wasn’t large. It was probably the size of ten Spurhoofs, for example. But that still meant only around a thousand citizens, and the large rows of geode farm fields were far from what she’d imagined. The town itself pressed into the side of a lone foothill that might have been large enough to be considered a mountain itself, barely. The buildings were mostly made of stone, many of which appeared to use the hill as part of their support structure. A few wooden constructions dotted the lower reaches, but they couldn’t have comprised more than a fifth of the total town.

And that was as much as she could make out, at least so far. It was impossible to determine any further details with the town shrouded in night. Then again, the sight of so many lamps, candles and magilights glimmering through the town’s windows made the hill seem to sparkle. It wasn’t hard for Rarity to imagine the place as a majestic extension of the starry sky.

Even through her grim haze, she had to acknowledge that the sight was beautiful at this time of night.

Stifling a yawn, she regrettably elected to cut her viewing short. Her first step would be to find an inn. A town that acted as a trading hub would most certainly have a few to accommodate wandering merchants. If only she hadn’t come to fear that she was growing used to the hospitality of Spike and the Diamond Dogs. Maybe one more night wouldn’t have crushed the last of her resistance.

Still, she could have left a little earlier. Would any of the inns even be open at this hour?

She passed between the first buildings. She’d half expected them to be lower class housing, and perhaps they were given their small sizes. But if they were lower class, then it spoke wonders to the town’s wealth that the buildings appeared so well maintained. She soon found herself walking along a dirt road that ascended the hill in a shallow climb. By now the side of the hill rose high above her, like a slumbering giant studded with glistening yellow gems.

A few ponies wandered the roads, but Rarity avoided them. She wasn’t eager to advertise where she’d come from or entertain any questions. No, she’d get closer to the center of town before asking directions. It would be easier that way for everypony, especially if it kept the Bad Apple Gang from deciding to investigate the caves. Why they’d do that when she was coming from the caves, Rarity couldn’t say, but the logic still felt right.

The dirt road became gravel as she reached perhaps a fourth of the way up the hill. The wooden buildings were far less frequent here, grey and red stonework and masonry gradually becoming the norm. With the steady increase in slope, the structures lost width and gained height. True to her suspicions, many had their first floors embedded within the hillside itself. She was beginning to recognize areas that might be akin to Mooisville’s blocks, albeit narrower and longer. Clearly, the townsfolk had adopted a town planning format suited to work with their chosen environment.

After over an hour of walking, Rarity finally felt comfortable asking directions. It helped that she appeared to be nearing some sort of commercial sector. There were small storefronts ahead and she could hear the soft rumble of a crowd in one of the structures. She couldn’t see the sign well enough in the dark, but it certainly sounded and looked like a saloon. Almost a dozen sand lizards were tied up outside, dozing or enjoying the water trough provided.

The saloon might have been fine if not for the two mares beside its entry, laughing together and puffing on extract sticks. A pegasus and an earth pony, they wore low-cut dresses that their voluminous breasts threatened to spill out of. The earth pony wore a skirt with a slit raised up to the hip, while the pegasus sported tight knee-length pants with a diagonal hole cut in the flanks. Both outfits were clearly designed to show off their cutie marks, which is what really brought the scowl to Rarity’s lips. Only one kind of mare would parade her mark around so flagrantly, and if that was the kind of clientele the saloon sported she wanted little to do with it.

Fortunately, she was spared the necessity of seeking a more decent establishment by the timely arrival of a couple earth pony stallions. Judging by their apparent ages and companionable silence, she guessed they were either father and son or journeyman and apprentice. Either way, they seemed safe enough, so she made to intercept them before they could get to the door of the saloon.

Putting on the best smile she could – but avoiding anything flirty – she called out. “Excuse me boys, but would you mind giving a lady some directions?”

Flirtatious tone or no, the younger of the two gazed upon her with wide eyes and a goofy smile. “I just might, miss!” He swept off his hat and bowed in what was probably meant to be a flamboyant manner, but was too clumsy to properly pull it off.

The older stallion grabbed the back of his collar and jerked him upright. “Forget it, boy. That one’s way out of your league.” He had a grisly voice that reminded Rarity – painfully – of Cranky. Tipping his hat politely and ignoring the youth’s glower, he pulled the extract stick from his lips and blew smoke before speaking again. “What you lookin’ for, missy?”

“Just an inn,” Rarity replied casually, making sure not to look at the eager young stallion. The last thing she wanted was to give him ideas. “Preferably someplace quiet, but I’ll take…” Her eyes flicked to the saloon doors as a particularly loud round of shouting burst from within. “…something like this if I must.”

The young stallion looked to his companion. “The Pies?”

“Should work.” The elder turned to point to a nearby street. “Head down that way. When you get to the well, turn left. There’ll be a big two-story by its lonesome, all grey. That’s the Pie Farm. They got extra rooms.”

The young stallion nodded so fast his hat almost flopped off his head. “They usually got rooms available for rent. Don’t come quieter than there.”

A private residence? Rarity pursed her lips as she considered this idea. “Will they even be awake?”

“Marble will be. Mare’s a nightowl.” He grinned as he added, “Good luck getting her to say much, though. Will you be staying in Rockstead for a while, miss?” At his companion’s grunt, he shot the old stallion a scowl. “What? It’s just a question.”

Rarity suppressed the desire to smile. “I’m afraid not. A day or two, three at most.”

“Hey, that’s plenty of time!”

The elder stallion performed an exaggeratedly slow facepalm, his face scrunched up in a combination of annoyance and what might have been physical pain. The younger didn’t notice, being too busy grinning at Rarity.

Until he noticed her glare. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled and her shoulders tensed. He backed up when she leaned a little closer to speak in a quiet, harsh tone. “Enough time to do what, exactly?”

He paled and glanced at the gun on her hip. Only then did Rarity realize that her thumb was rubbing the tiny nub in the grip. The damage had been done, but she still crossed her arms, which allowed him to relax a little.

At last he managed to fumble over some words. “J-just to, um, see the sights?” He laughed, a hollow, forced sound.

“Indeed.” Rarity held him in her gaze for a couple seconds longer. “A bit of advice, boy: try not to be so obvious in your intentions next time.” She turned her eyes to the older stallion, who had the disdainfully patient look of somepony accustomed to the foolishness of youth. “My thanks for the directions, sir.”

After his polite nod, she turned away sharply and marched down the road, leaving the bright windows of the saloon behind. She wasn’t five paces away before the elder stallion was giving the younger one a lecture. She might have been amused, had she not been so annoyed. Was that what the stallions of this town thought of mares? How dare he insinuate that she would be so easy!

The boiling anger kept her going for a while, but as she moved on in the darkness of Rockstead’s streets her ire steadily faded. She reminded herself that, regrettably, there were mares of ‘that’ nature out there. On the opposite side of the bit, it would be wrong of her to think negatively of all stallions in Rockstead just because of the one bad encounter. The colt’s companion hadn’t looked at her in that way, now had he?

And yet, the meeting was a stark reminder of the kinds of stallions that could be out there. Her thoughts turned to Braeburn and what he’d nearly done to Coco and herself. The memory left a hollow feeling in her stomach. She’d stopped him, and while she still felt a lot of guilt about that, she’d long come to accept that her actions had been necessary. Unpleasant, but certainly necessary.

There had to be others out there like him. Others who would take one look at her and come to the same conclusions, make the same decisions. Her hand was on Silver Lining’s grip once more, her thumb rubbing over the small nub again and again. Part of her said she was being silly, that she’d probably never find herself in such a situation again. The other part had her scouring the dark alleys and corners of the street with sharp eyes. As much as she tried to lecture herself, to steadfastly reaffirm that no Braeburns would ooze their way out of the shadows, she couldn’t help but feel a rush.

She wanted to get off the street. Urgently.

Time passed at a crawl, and she wondered if she’d taken a wrong turn or been given bad directions. The thought sent chills down her spine. Was it just her, or was the street unnaturally empty? There were still lights in many of the windows – mostly candles and gem-burning torches – but the road itself was bare and oppressively quiet.

Then she noticed the quiet of her own hoofsteps. Blinking, she looked down to discover only dirt. She’d left the gravel roads behind.

Once understanding struck, Rarity felt her shoulders sagging. Of course there was nopony on the streets, she was reaching the edge of town. All the activity would be further in, where the bars and taverns and such were. The thought gave her some comfort, though the butterflies in her stomach hadn’t left quite yet.

A wave of relief washed over her when she looked up. She’d reached the town border once more, the buildings falling behind her. Some thousand feet ahead, in the midst of a substantial geode farm and about a hundred yards from a massive boulder, sat the two story abode she assumed was meant to be her destination. The structure appeared solid, but the faded paint on the wood suggested the it was also quite old. A barn sat not far behind, its color indeterminate in the dark. Both buildings were largely undecorated, with practical but uninteresting designs.

Rarity found that she wasn’t too bothered by this as she might have been in the past. At the very least she might be able to avoid sleeping on the hard earth for a few more days, and that was worth all the unfashionable blandness the world might offer her. Besides, the inside might not be so… plain.

Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Rarity strode to the front door and rapped on the doorframe with the back of her hand. There were candles in the windows, but only in a select few rooms. Most of the residence remained dark, and not a sound arose. Her ears fell flat against her skull as she tried again, hoping she wasn’t disturbing them too much. It was after sundown, after all. She’d be wary of visitors herself under such circumstances.

Time passed. Rarity rubbed her arm and began to fidget. Maybe this wasn’t the right house after all? She glanced at the windows, but saw nothing to indicate she was being watched. Chewing her lip, she reached up to knock again—

There came the sound of a lock unbolting. She stood tall and tried to appear unassuming, forcing a smile onto her face as the door creaked open just enough to reveal turquoise eyes beneath a straight-cut blue-violet mane. The grey pony beyond spoke in a low voice devoid of any emotion that ground slowly through the air. “Can I help you?”

Taken aback by a greeting neither defensive or welcoming, it took Rarity a moment to formulate a proper response. “Y-yes, how do you do? My name is Rarity, and I heard that you offered temporary rooms.” Her attempt at enthusiasm petered out at the complete lack of reaction from the mare. “I was hoping I could… rent one out. For a few days?”

The mare blinked with excruciating slowness. Her eyes drifted to Silver Lining. With the same emotionless tone, she asked, “Are you a drifter?”

Flinching, Rarity clasped her hands behind her back. Perhaps she’d put the pony at ease if her hands were kept well away from her weapon. “I’m only passing through.”

The eyes snapped back to her. “Passing through to where?”

Rarity opened her mouth, but found she couldn’t answer. The butterflies made a return to her stomach as she wilted. “I don’t know yet.” She withered beneath the mare’s impassive gaze, feeling like a bug under a microscope.

After what seemed like an eternity, the mare reached a hand out. It was startlingly large, with long but supple fingers. “Fifteen bits a night. Up front.”

The tension fled from Rarity with a long exhale and she nodded. She fiddled with one of the zippers on her backpack and, after some digging, extracted two sapphires, one a brilliantly dark blue and the other a light green. “Two nights, and if I need one more I’ll pay you then. Is that fair?”

The door opened fully, exposing the mare properly. She was an earth pony, slightly taller than Rarity and with a surprising amount of muscle on her despite a small build. She wore a simple grey frock with a lowered hood, a small rope tied around her waist. Rarity bit her tongue to keep from gasping at the mare’s disturbing lack of fashion sense.

The mare raised the gems up in her palm to study them up close with those emotionless eyes. She remained that way for some seconds, not so much as blinking, then closed her fingers around the stones. She lowered them and turned her steady gaze upon Rarity.

“The corundum possessing titanium and iron is unusually valuable at twenty-seven bits. The corundum possessing only iron is substantially less valuable at only twelve bits. Together they come out to be thirty-nine bits, so the trade is sufficient. I can offer you bits in change if you choose not to stay the third night. Does that meet with your approval?”

Rarity blinked. She blinked again. “You can tell the Accurate Value of the gems just by looking at them?”

“It’s a gift,” the mare droned. “Rocks are my friends. I spend most of my free time studying them.” A long pause. “I love my work.”

“Right.” Shaking herself out of her stupor and hoping she hadn’t appeared rude via her silence, Rarity nodded and offered her hand. “I think we have an agreement. Am I to take it you are Marble Pie?”

The mare accepted the offered handshake, squeezing so hard Rarity struggled not to cry out in pain. By Luna’s stars, this pony was strong!

“Maud Pie. Marble is my little sister. She’s hiding in her room.” Freeing Rarity’s hand from its excruciating prison, she turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open.

Rarity took a moment to rub her throbbing palm. She’d not been invited, but Maud had left the door open and had taken the gems. I guess that means it’s okay. She stepped inside gingerly, closing the door behind her. She found herself inside a large room, perhaps a dining room, which opened into a kitchen near the back of the house. A set of stairs to the second story ran along the wall on her left.

The house’s age was more apparent from the inside, but not from a lack of maintenance. Rather, the place was filled with the trappings of longtime habitation: a fireplace filled with ash and coals, a dining table with a worn and rugged surface, ancient-looking wooden chairs, a frayed rug, and pictures that covered nearly every available space. Rarity’s eyes landed upon one such image on a nearby end table, which depicted a solemn family. A pair of parents perhaps ten years Rarity’s senior at the time the black and white photo had been taken, standing tall over four fillies of varying demeanors: annoyed, blank (That must be Maud.), grinning, and anxious. Judging by Maud’s apparent age, the photo was probably twenty years old.

She noted Maud watching her from a hallway and flinched. “You have a lovely family,” she noted, smiling and hoping her observation wouldn’t be seen as prying.

Maud glanced at the photo. “Thank you.” She turned and pointed. “You can have Limestone’s room on the right. Bathroom across the hall. Don’t mind the creaky second floor. That’s Marble’s room. She tends to pace a lot, especially when there are visitors.”

“It’s alright.” Rarity glanced up the stairs, wondering about the mysterious sister. “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“She’ll be fine.” Maud tilted her head to study the gun at Rarity’s hip once more, then stepped a little closer. Her next words had no more emotion than before, but she spoke them in a whisper. “Don’t let her see your weapon. She has a fear of guns.” A meticulously slow blink. “Don’t let her know you brought one inside the house. She’ll be very upset.”

While her tone gave her nothing to go by, Rarity was perceptive to the faint suggestion that upsetting Marble would lead to a ‘problem’. She nodded slowly and actively resisted grabbing Silver Lining’s grip. “I understand completely.”

Maud didn’t move or speak. She maintained that close proximity, her dull eyes seeming to bore into Rarity’s soul. The longer the visual exchange lasted, the more Rarity’s ears folded back, until they were once again flat against her skull. She couldn’t put a reason on it, but something about this mare disturbed her, and she knew that it was on purpose.

At last, Maud stepped back. “I think we’ll get along fine. Have you had dinner yet? Marble and I already ate, but I have some leftover rock stew if you want some.”

Rock… stew? Rarity shook her head with what she hoped was an appreciative smile rather than a disturbed grimace. “Oh, no. I had a decent-sized meal before coming into town. Really, I’m good.” And it was the truth, courtesy of Spike. She sent a silent thanks in his direction at the thought of trying to eat a stew made from rocks ran circles around her brain.

“All right, but you don’t know what you’re missing. Rock stew is the food of the Sisters.” Maud turned to face Rarity fully. “There aren’t many rules. Don’t scare Marble. Don’t take anything without asking first, except the water. Stay out of the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Don’t touch Holder’s Boulder.” Another one of those pauses. “Don’t scare Marble.”

Rarity could feel her cheeks twitching with the effort of holding her smile. “G-got it, don’t scare your sister. I promise not to.” As an afterthought, “At least not on purpose.”

Maud nodded, a slow movement like a tough tree bending in the wind. “Good. She tends to forget her strength when she’s scared. I have to get up early tomorrow. Did you need anything else?”

“Oh, no, you’ve done quite enough as it is.” A perfectly accurate statement, seeing as all she’d needed was a roof over her head. “I should probably get some sleep myself, all things considered. Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Good night, then, Miss Rarity.” Maud made for the stairs, leaving Rarity alone before the hallway. She was out of sight in seconds.

Rarity set her hands to her hips, eyes on the stairs. Well, that was certainly a strange encounter. Her attention drifted up to the ceiling. This is an awfully big place for just the two of them. Where are the rest of the family?

After ruminating on this for a while, she shrugged and went to investigate her temporary living quarters with a long yawn. “I wonder if her sister is anywhere near as… ‘interesting’.”





Rarity learned one thing very quickly: the Pie sisters were loaded. She’d already been impressed by the four bedrooms and two baths, and in the morning she’d spotted over a dozen ponies working the geode fields. But the thing that had really thrown her for a loop?

Indoor plumbing. Not even Spike’s caves offered that. Her shower that morning was nothing short of heavenly, and the presence of an honest-to-Luna toilet seat dazzled her. It seemed highly unlikely that they were connected to any sort of system in the town, which meant a home system with some sort of magically automated water well. The house might look old and worn, but it hid some astounding advancements more expected of a Manehattan mansion.

Which begged the question: if the Pies were so wealthy, why were they renting out rooms?

She had no opportunity that morning to find out. Maud was in the fields leading the workers, and Rarity was loath to approach lest she find herself performing a kind of labor she knew she was not meant to handle. As for the mysterious Marble Pie, there remained no sign of the elusive mare. But they’d been kind enough to leave out a bowl of what Rarity assumed was rock soup.

It really did have a rock in it.

Rarity elected to be adventurous, on the grounds that Maud would probably ask about it later and she didn’t want to lie about having tried it or not. It wasn’t exactly high quality cuisine, but at least it didn’t taste like dirt as she’d anticipated. It served well enough that she could finish the bowl, although she did not intend to ask for any more. She did wonder what purpose the rock served.

With one host busy working and the other nowhere to be seen, Rarity decided to head into town. She hadn’t elected to stay multiple days just for her comfort; there were things she wanted to see to before starting the next leg of her journey, not least of which included figuring out in which direction that journey would lead. So, after storing a few necessities in her vest, Rarity braved the blistering heat of the late morning sun and headed for the center of Rockstead.

The town was much more lively during the daylight hours, more so than she had expected considering the midday temperature. By the time she reached the commercial district she was surrounded by citizens going to and fro about their daily business. This place was a far cry from the quiet doldrums of Spurhoof, reminding her far more of the busy streets of Mooisville. In another age, she might have relished the situation as an opportunity to mingle, build a social network, and make friends.

Today, however, Rarity kept her hat low over her face and moved with purpose. She was polite and friendly to those who did greet her as she passed, but refused to be held back by any of them. Despite the many weeks that had passed since the death of Braeburn, she was still acutely aware that the Apples had a price on her head, and there were far too many ponies in this area to keep track of. If even one of them was part of the Apple Family or Bad Apple Gang and recognized her…

Best not to think about that. She’d handle it when the time came, assuming it ever did. But for now, she needed to get her information and get back to the Pie House.

Despite her fear of being recognized, Rarity still needed directions. She asked a couple friendly mares about where she might find a gunsmith, and they kindly pointed her to where she needed to go. They didn’t seem at all alarmed by her request. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so surprised. Surely crime was a factor in a place of this size, and who’d blame a mare for wanting to defend herself? Perhaps it had been her attitude in Spurhoof that had been odd.

The gunsmith was found high on the hillside. Apparently the upper elevations were used as an industrial district for mining and other production work. She came to a shop that was startlingly complete in its operations, even having an outdoor smithy for custom metalwork. She found the proprietor and master smith in the interior of the shop teaching an apprentice the finer details of carving out a gun handle.

After leaving the young colt with a task, the short, bulky brown earth pony mare approached Rarity with an endearing smile. “Hello there, missy. What can old Bullet Harvest do for you today? Cleaning? Inspection? Ammo?”

Rarity accepted her handshake, relieved to learn that not all Rocksteadians possessed bone-shattering grips. “Rarity Belle, a pleasure to meet you. I’m here for some information.” Inspired by the mare’s query, she added, “And maybe some advice.”

Harvest beamed as if she’d just been told Princess Luna was paying her shop a personal visit. “You’ve come to the right place! What’s on your mind?”

“Well, for starters, I was wondering what you could tell me about this.” Reaching into her vest, Rarity pulled out a lone bullet, one of those that Spike had given her along with the Ruby Heart. She displayed it between two fingers, tip up.

The gunsmith’s eyes widened. “Is that a gem on top of that bullet?”

“Ruby, yes ma’am.” She let Harvest take the bullet in her hands and inspect it up close. “A friend gifted me with a gun recently, one that is supposedly enchanted to do special things when firing ruby-tipped bullets. I have plenty now, but I was wondering what it would cost me to get more at a later time.”

Harvest whistled between her teeth, turning the large 45 caliber bullet to inspect it from every angle. “This is a thing of beauty. Adding the gem to the tip only makes it that much more lethal. It’s one thing if it hits a pony, but imagine what would happen if the gem got lost amongst all the blood. You might never get it out, and those sharp edges would do nasty things to somepony’s insides.”

You have a disturbing concept of beauty. Managing to keep her smile intact, Rarity nodded. “It is rather daunting, I must admit.”

“You got the gun that goes with it?”

Rarity nodded and retrieved Ruby Heart from within the left side of her vest. That was a relief, for the thing’s weight was terrible when placed there. She held it up, but pulled back when Harvest reached for it. “Please be cautious. It was a gift, after all.”

The gunsmith rolled her eyes. “Missy, if I didn’t know how to be careful with things that might kill me, I wouldn’t be around to run Rockstead’s best shop.” She took the gun and inspected it with just as much care and focus as she had the bullet. “Automatic bolt action. Don’t see a lot of those yet. Hard to reproduce right now. Unusually long barrel… oh, rifled. You’ll get some fine distance with this baby. Sliding ammo cartridge in the grip? Efficient. Made one or two of those in my time. Real tricky, lots of little parts. Better take good care of it or the repair bill will be steep.” She glanced at Rarity with a wry smile. “Dunno who gave you this, but he must have really loved you to drop the kind of bits this thing would have demanded.”

“That’s another thing,” Rarity said. “I’m still fairly new to guns. I need to learn how to care for them.” She pulled back the right side of her vest, revealing Silver Lining tucked away in a large pocket. “For this one, too.”

Harvest gave a curt nod, her eyes still set longingly on Ruby Heart. “I’ll be happy to show you. I’ll even give you a discount if you let me fire a clip from this baby.” She glanced at Silver Lining, then did a double take. “Wait, are you carrying them like that?”

Rarity grimaced. “The place I’m staying at has some rules about having guns out in the open, so I had to forgo Silver Lining’s harness today.” She shot a pout towards Ruby Heart. “I don’t have a harness for that one yet.”

“That won’t do at all! It’s gotta be crazy uncomfortable.” Harvest trotted towards a back wall, on which hung a half-dozen harnesses. “I’ll get you fitted for a proper harness to carry this beauty around. If you’ve got the time, we can get it done within a few hours.”

This seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up, and so Rarity spent a good chunk of her day following Bullet Harvest around her shop, learning the ins and outs of gun care. It was informative and unexpectedly interesting. Rarity had never known about the inner workings of sidearms and the assorted parts that made up a gun. By the time the lesson was over, she could name – or at least identify the use of – most of the parts of a typical pistol and had a good understanding of their care. The grease and cleaning lotions weren’t exactly pleasant, but worth it for preserving her two exquisite firearms.

She’d also gotten an estimate on what new bullets for Ruby Heart might cost her. The answer was nothing short of staggering. A single ruby had an equivalent value of twelve hundred bits on its own. It would take her six hundred sapphires to match that! Throw in labor and the other materials and Rarity could see herself going broke after two or three ammo runs. She promptly resolved to hold off on firing the Ruby Heart unless she really needed the extra range and firepower.

And then there was the holster. Rarity elected to go for a shoulder-variety. Seeing as Silver Lining would be her primary weapon and was already set on her right hip, she had the shoulder holster set on the right as well so she could pull it out with her left hand. She couldn’t imagine she’d have good accuracy dual-wielding the guns, but something told her it would be better this way. Of course, it would also put a lot of weight on her right side, something she’d have to learn to cope with.

By the time Rarity left the gunsmith she was hungry and had a bank account with far fewer bits, but was also confident that she could maintain her weapons on her own now. As she made her way back to the Pie House, she pondered the greatest of her issues: ammunition. One of the most troubling things she’d learned was the cost of it, and not just for the Ruby Heart.

On the positive side, Spike had ensured she had plenty of rounds for Silver Lining – a good three times that of Ruby Heart – and she had little intention of firing her guns quite that much. On the negative side, she had no idea how determined the Apples were to catch her, and therefore couldn’t fathom a guess at how long her current bullet count would last. She’d not seen anything of the Apple Family since Spurhoof, but was that because they’d given up or just dumb luck?

It was while she walked through a market square packed with traders and shoppers that her contemplation was interrupted. The words hadn’t been aimed at her, but they still caught her perked ears and dragged her attention to a pair of mares standing by a public well.

“What are you going on about this time?”

“You know, that caravan in the Scorched Plains! A survivor came through town two days ago.”

Pretending to rest against the well, Rarity kept her eyes on a distant shop sign as she listened intently.

“Really? I heard something had happened, but couldn’t get any of the juicy stuff.”

“Well, I heard that the caravan got captured by slavers.”

“No! How did the pony escape?”

“He didn’t. He was rescued!”

“The buffalo? I know they don’t like us much, but they like griffons a lot less.”

“Actually, they say the buffalo found them after the rescue.”

“But if the buffalo didn’t do it, who did?”

“The Bulletproof Heart.”

Rarity stiffened, the words of Pounding Sands echoing in her ears.  I apologize for making my fireball of a niece your escort, Rarity of the Bulletproof Heart.

“The what now?”

“A mare! They say she took a bullet to the heart – and survived. Shook it off like it was nothing.”

“Miss Prattler, I think you’re pulling my leg.”

“No, really! She helped defeat the griffon slavers, and even forced a flight of them to carry her back to the Dragon’s Teeth. A buffalo herd saw the whole thing. They’re the ones that gave her the name.”

“And you’re basing all of this on the word of one survivor? You believe it?”

“I sure as hay want to! Can you imagine it? A skilled drifter mare, beautiful but tomcoltish, out to right the wrongs and defend the innocent? It’s like something out of a book.”

“I’ll say.”

“But what if she’s real? Equestria could use a hero like that.”

“Even if this ‘Bulletproof Heart’ is real, I doubt she’s what you’re thinking. Probably got real lucky and was in all the wrong places. You know, doing what she had to do to get by and whatnot.”

“Isn’t that what all heroes are, at least at first?”

“Well… maybe. But I doubt she has any intention of going out and slaughtering slavers, chasing bandits and stopping train robberies. Heck, she probably just wants to find a place to settle down.”

“Nope. She’s a drifter hero, a princess of our time! That’s what I’m gonna believe, because that’s what I want her to be.”

“Miss Prattler, you go on believing whatever you want to.”

Rarity had heard enough. She moved on, heart thudding in her chest as the consequences of what she’d just heard circled around her head. Her actions were getting embellished to the point of ridiculousness. ‘Forced’ a flight of griffons to carry her? Rescued the caravan entirely on her own? And that annoying name. ‘Bulletproof Heart.’ The shot had been too low for that! Granted, ‘Bulletproof Spleen’ didn’t have quite the same ring to it. She rubbed the necklace beneath her shirt, realizing as an afterthought that it was indeed in a good position to protect her heart now that she wore it correctly.

That didn’t make her any happier about the situation. She had half a mind to correct the record, but Rarity was familiar with the ways of rumor and gossip. At this point the stories of her supposed heroism were on the lips of a few dozen busybodies getting circulated all over Rockstead with no chance for denial. All she could hope for was that it didn’t go further than that.

This could prove problematic. The mares hadn’t said a thing about her description, but if that was getting around then the rumors would serve as a lightning rod for the Bad Apple Gang. She would have to get out of town, and soon. No later than tomorrow. Would being dubbed a hero make the bounty on her head go up? She found it unlikely the ponies setting said bounties would care about her feelings on the matter.

With even less an interest in being outdoors than ever, Rarity took to the alleyways between streets and made for the Pie House as quickly as she could without drawing attention. She arrived with an hour yet before sundown. Aside from rocks having clearly been moved around, the geode farm looked the same as it had yesterday evening. Checking to ensure Silver Lining and Ruby Heart were both safely concealed beneath her vest, Rarity entered through the front door.

She was startled to see an unfamiliar pony in the kitchen. Her hackles rose for all of two seconds, but then she remembered that Maud had a little sister on the premises. So… this was Marble Pie? She had a lighter coat than her sister, more of a turquoise grey, with a two-toned mane as straight as her sibling’s, but noticeably longer. Wearing a greenish-grey dress, the mare had yet to notice Rarity’s arrival, busying herself with kneading a large lump of dough on the kitchen table.

At the sound of the door closing, the mare looked up and lost her cheerful smile in an instant. She took a step back, as if to run, but stopped herself. Her violet eyes, one hidden behind her mane, spoke of something that wasn’t quite fear, but definitely anxiety.

Moving slowly so as not to startle the poor thing, Rarity smiled and gave a small wave. “Good evening, dear. Miss Marble Pie, I believe? I didn’t mean to startle you. I am Rarity, the pony renting the room?”

Her dainty fingers entwined, Marble lowered her head and averted her eyes. Her response came as a quiet “Mm-hmm.”

Rarity resisted the urge to frown. It seemed Marble wasn’t one to open up to just any pony. Even so, the fidgeting mare disturbed Rarity, as she didn’t want anyone to fear her for any reason. Placing her hands behind her back, she spoke in as calm and quiet a voice as she could. “There’s no need to be nervous, Darling. I promise, I’ll be out of your mane by tomorrow. Please don’t mind me.”

“Mm-hmm.”

She felt her eye twitch. Surely she could find some way to loosen the pony up. Moving with caution, Rarity took a step closer and gestured to the loaf. “Do you need any assistance? I’m rather handy around a kitchen, if I may say so.”

Violet eyes widened. Marble took another step back. Though the shift of her head was so small as to almost be imperceptible, Rarity had the strange suspicion that it was as good as a furious shaking for the mare. “W-well, alright then. I…” Her tongue fumbled for some kind of recovery, but nothing came to her, so she elected to beat a hasty retreat. “I… have to get some things in my room. I’ll, um, see you later.”

“Mm…” Marble blinked, her eyes shifting to Rarity’s left. Following her gaze, Rarity turned—and let out a gasp, jumping back a little at the sight of Maud standing at her side and facing her. Holding a hand to her chest and another grasping for the gun not at her hip, Rarity met the mare’s gaze and fought to regain her breath.

Maud spoke, her voice as monotonous as ever. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to barge in here like a stampeding buffalo, but I had to make sure you weren’t frightening my sister.” A beat. “Were you frightening my sister?”

“Oh, it’s q-quite all right. I don’t think so?”

Rarity cast a glance at Marble. The young mare, hands still clasped as if in prayer, gave a tiny shake of her head. “Mm-mm.”

“See?” Rarity gave Maud a strained grin. “Just introducing myself.”

Maud gazed at her for some time, expressionless and immobile, before finally saying, “That is good to hear. I did not want to have to save you from her.” Her eyes briefly roamed Rarity’s body. “Did you get everything you needed in town?”

The tension in Rarity’s shoulders finally faded. She nodded and rubbed a hand over her vest where Ruby Heart was hidden. “I got most of it done. I’ll have to visit the nearest post office tomorrow, but I don’t see me spending a third night under your roof.”

“That is disappointing.” A slow blink. “I hope Marble and I haven’t scared you off with our wild mannerisms. It’s nice to have somepony else to fill up the old place.” Maud marched for a nearby desk. “You paid for more than two nights. I’ll get you some change.”

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” Rarity waved dismissively as she headed for her room. “Keep it, in thanks. I am the one imposing upon you, after all.” She noted that Marble was back to working on the bread, albeit with hunched shoulders and averted eyes.

“That’s very generous of you.” Maud turned back to her. “You should have supper with us tonight. It’s the least we can offer. We’re going to be having cactus flower sandwiches. Don’t worry, there won’t be any needles.” Then, as if in afterthought, “Or rocks. Unless you want some. Because they’re good for you. Do you want rocks on yours?”

Rarity almost refused the offer of food outright, but stopped herself at the last instant. She had to acknowledge that sandwiches sounded better than rock soup. Despite the knowledge that she’d be leaving soon and probably wouldn’t meet these ponies again, she felt a desire to get to know them a little more. Perhaps it was her old social butterfly ways resurfacing, but she didn’t mind. Besides, she was certainly curious about the pair.

Maud hadn’t budged. If Rarity hadn’t known better, she’d have mistaken her for a statue. Was she even breathing? With a cough to straighten her thoughts, Rarity declared, “Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Pie. I’d love to dine with you two tonight. But, er, I’ll take mine without rocks, thanks.”

“Suit yourself, but you don’t know what you are missing.” Maud walked past her for the kitchen. “And call me Maud.”





Dinner was a quiet affair. The three mares sat around a table clearly intended for many more ponies. Marble sat as far from Rarity as she could, half her face hidden behind her mane as she focused on nibbling her sandwich. Maud and Rarity, on the other hand, sat directly across from one another. Rarity wished she could call this a comforting thing, but Maud’s relentless, emotionless stare left her wondering if she’d done something wrong at any point in the day.

Her worries faded quickly after taking a small bite of her sandwich. The flowers had a certain citrusy flavor to them that melded well with the small layer of lettuce. A thin slice of cheese Rarity was unfamiliar with added a nice kick that reminded her, strangely, of rosemary, and the homemade bread was a thick, grainy rye. Altogether?

“My compliments, Miss Marble. I don’t think I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

Marble’s eyes went wide. She looked to Rarity in silence, then glanced away. Her mane failed to hide her small smile as she offered a barely discernible “Th-thank you.”

The elder Pie sibling nodded. “Marble learned to cook very early. It was either her or me, and I had to run the farm.”

Detecting the perfect segue, Rarity focused her attention on Maud. “I understand. Living on your own must have been hard.”

Maud blinked and said nothing for a time. Slowly, she turned her head to look at Marble, but the younger sister was staring down at her sandwich as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. “I guess it was obvious. Yes, it was hard at first, but only because we made it so.”

Rarity cocked her head. “I don’t follow.”

Maud took a bite of her sandwich, chewed with excruciating slowness and the loud crunch of what Rarity presumed were rocks. The sound made her teeth ache. At last, Maud swallowed and continued. “Mom and Dad left us with a sizeable inheritance. We could have lived easy lives if we were careful. But we wanted to keep running the farm, so we worked.” A sip of water. “We pulled it off.”

Despite the monotone voice, Rarity thought she detected a hint of pride. She cast a long look around the kitchen. Even here she could see the signs of a home well loved; spotless walls and cabinets, shining cutlery in a rack, the faded dish towels neatly hung, and all beneath photos, heirlooms and antique décor. The rock theme hardly suited her sense of taste, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t detect the life that must have once kept this place animated.

Her ears folded back as she took in the near silence of the place. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened?”

Maud tilted her head just slightly, seeming to think on the question. “Our parents and our big sister took a trade caravan for Hoofington. They never arrived. The wagons were found a season later. No survivors.”

Shoulders tense, Rarity asked, “Bandits?” Maud’s nod had her gritting her teeth. She’d been a victim of such ruffians herself once, but somehow Maud’s brief, blunt story only made her frustration worse.

“Pinkie said Limestone wouldn’t mind you staying in her room.”

The words caught Rarity flat hoofed, and it took her a moment to grasp their meaning. Which didn’t help her at all, really. “I beg your pardon?”

Maud’s gaze offered no insights as she replied, “Pinkie Pie. Marble’s twin sister. She mentioned you in her last letter.”

“But… who?” Rarity shook her head as though to clear it of cobwebs. “I don’t know any Pinkie Pie.”

“I know.”

Maud took another bite, forcing Rarity to wait once more for an explanation. She glanced at Marble, who wasn’t even a third of the way through her sandwich. The young mare looked to her big sister, then at Rarity. Hiding behind her mane once more, she muttered, “You’re staying in Limestone’s room.”

Rarity sank in her chair at the realization she might be violating something sacred to the young mare.

When Maud finally finished swallowing, she spoke as if there’d been no pause at all. “Don’t worry. If Pinkie says Limestone wouldn’t mind, Limestone wouldn’t mind. And neither do we. It was a very long time ago.”

The dry manner of the declaration did nothing to ease Rarity’s nerves, but she forced herself to sit up and continue her meal. “And where is Miss Pinkie Pie?”

“She joined the Hoofington Armed Services.” A long drink of water. “She wanted to protect ponies from bandits.”
 
“I see.” Rarity lifted her sandwich, but found herself unable to take another bite. After a few uncertain moments, she put it back down. “You must worry about her.”

“Not even remotely.”

Her head snapped up to meet Maud’s unflinching, unreadable gaze. “What?” Was Pinkie’s departure unwelcome? Had the mare been ostracized for leaving the farm? The poor thing!

But Maud did something that knocked Rarity for a whole new loop: she smirked. “Pinkie Pie can take care of herself. She’ll be fine. It’s the bandits who should be scared.”

Still rocked by the brief display of emotion, Rarity could only nod in response. She looked to Marble Pie, half expecting to see the young mare visibly disagreeing with Maud’s assessment, but for once she appeared confident. The unexpected unison of the pair’s opinion of Pinkie made Rarity wonder what the long lost sibling was capable of.

“So where are you going tomorrow?”

It took a moment for Rarity to register the question, and another for her to shift gears and think in the new direction Maud had started down. “The post office. I need to… test something.”

Maud stared. And stared. “I meant when you leave Rockstead.”

“Oh.” Rarity took a quick drink of water to buy time. It wasn’t enough, so she was stuck with the inevitable truth. “I don’t know. I thought about heading to Mareami, but… it really doesn’t sound like my kind of place.”

“It’s not that bad,” Maud said. “As long as you can handle the robbers. And the scam artists. And the gangs. And the retirees. I take it back, Mareami’s terrible. I wouldn’t advise going there.”

“W-why…”

They both turned to look at Marble, who squeaked and turned away, face bright red.

With a smile, Rarity waved her hand invitingly. “Come now, Darling, don’t be afraid to ask. I won’t hold anything against you.”

Fingers entwined in what was becoming a familiar display of anxiety, Marble glanced between the two of them and gave a tiny nod. “Umm, I… I was wondering w-why you… you travel in the f-first place.” As soon as the last word was out of her mouth, the impenetrable wall that was Marble’s mane shielded her face once more.

“I must admit that I am curious about your reasons too,” Maud said as she refocused her unflappable stare upon Rarity.

Ah, there were those butterflies again. Hello, Darlings, where have you been? Rarity considered dodging the question. Even lying seemed like an option. And yet, the more she thought on it, the more she realized it would be unfair to do either one. They’d told her their history, and Marble should be rewarded for finally speaking to the scary, gun-toting stranger. She’d have to be cautious with her answer, but that didn’t mean she had to be dishonest.

Bracing for the worst, Rarity forced her lips open and let the words come out. “I… did something. Something unpleasant. I didn’t mean to, but it seems intent is of no consequence to some ponies. So now my choices are to either hide, die, or keep moving.”

Not daring to get any more detailed, Rarity waited and hoped they wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“Who is after you?”

She groaned at Maud’s query. You just had to ask, didn’t you? Sinking a little further down in her seat, she muttered, “The Apples.”

By now Rarity had come to expect a complete lack of reaction from Maud, and she was not disappointed. Marble, on the other hand, let out a quiet gasp and stared at Rarity as if she’d just said their sandwiches had been poisoned. She looked away and prepared for the lady of the house to throw her out on her tail.

Instead, Maud asked, “Have you asked for help?”

“Help?” Rarity leaned forward. “From who?”

“The Flaming Vermillion was in town just yesterday.”

A blink. Rarity felt her jaw drop. “She was?”

Maud nodded. “She hates the Apples. Really hates them. She might have traveled with you if she thought it would give her the opportunity to kill some.”

“I… That’s…” All Rarity’s past ideas came to a screeching halt in her brain. The last active member of the Rainbow Gang. A legend among drifters, survivor of the Battle of Ponyville, and established arch-nemesis of the Bad Apple Gang. To have somepony like that on her side… “Is she still in town?”

“Probably not.” Maud focused on her meal, but before taking a bite added, “She’s known to leave as quickly as she arrives.”

“Maybe I could find her.” Rarity rubbed her necklace beneath her shirt. The flame of hope in her heart grew hotter with every passing word. “Follow her, catch up, e-explain my situation. If the Bad Apple Gang thinks I’ve got her with me, perhaps they’ll back off. Then I could go wherever I wanted and settle down.” A smile was worming its way onto her face. “No more running. I could start over!”

“You are excited.” Maud’s deadpan way of saying that seemed so totally contradictory to the meaning that it jarred Rarity from her momentary high. “I understand. But please calm down. You can’t find out where she went until tomorrow. If at all.”

The mare had a point. Rarity closed her eyes and took a few slow, calming breaths. “Yes, you’re right of course. Tomorrow I can go into town and ask around. Maybe somepony knows which way the Flaming Vermillion went.” She bit her lip as a new, worrying thought came to mind. “Oh, I hope she’s not riding a sand lizard. I’d never catch up to her if so.”

Marble stood up quietly and took her own and Maud’s plates. At her questioning glance, Rarity shook her head and grabbed her sandwich. Now that her fears had abated, her hunger was back in full force. Perhaps she could ask for another? No, too demanding. She had bread in her backpack if she really needed more.

“You could buy a sand lizard,” Maud said as she blindly handed her empty glass to her sister.

Yes, yes she could. Rarity certainly had the funds. But… “No. I m-mean, yes, but no. I won’t.” She wasn’t about to risk another Piecazzo. If she had to do that again… She put her sandwich back down and hid her shaking hands under the table.

Maud, ever unreadable, stared at her for some time before finally asking, “Then how do you plan to catch her?”

“I’ll find a way.”

I hope.





Apparently Maud Pie’s name held some weight, and she was willing to throw it around. When Rarity got ready to say goodbye, Maud announced that she would be heading into town with her to help her ascertain the whereabouts of the Flaming Vermillion. Rarity had tried to talk her out of it, of course, but it seemed that once Maud had made up her mind there was no changing it. So, after a kind goodbye from Marble, the two went into town together.

Rarity started with a visit to the nearest post office, where she attempted to use the Message Orb Jewelbone had given her. The local manager had been dubious at first, expecting Rarity to have stolen the thing. A message was sent by magic to confirm the story of how she’d come by it. When the response came in from the ‘Boss’ of Howler’s Bank directly, however, he abruptly was bending so far back to accommodate her it was a wonder he couldn’t see his own tail. Rarity accepted his apology and left, satisfied she could contact Spike any time she need to, be it at a bank or a post office.

Next, Maud brought her into the commercial district. That proved an interesting event. Rarity had anticipated ponies knowing who Maud was, but she’d not expected to see the crowds literally parting like water before her. There was no question that the mare was highly respected in this town. When she spoke, ponies listened, and it didn’t take long at all for them to get information on the Flaming Vermillion.

Unfortunately, the rumor mill had made its rounds. For every pony who claimed one thing, two others would say something else. After an hour of questioning, they had ten different directions that the Flaming Vermillion could have gone. By lunchtime they’d eliminated half of those potential paths, but discovered twice as many more.

Rarity came to the conclusion that further investigation would be fruitless, and Maud agreed. So now she was stuck trying to decide where she’d be going next. Maud offered to give her one more night on the house, but Rarity refused. She’d spent too long in Rockstead as it was, and the Apples may already be in town looking for her.

“So,” Maud said as they walked away from the commercial district. “Have you decided where to go next?”

With a long sigh, Rarity nodded. “I’ve been debating with myself for a while now. I think I’ll go west. Maybe Las Pegasus will prove a good place to lay low for a while.”

Maud glanced at her. “That’s a long walk. Are you sure you don’t want a sand lizard?”

A vision of a mutilated Piecazzo staring up at her with one eye, a gun barrel pressed to his forehead, shook Rarity from horn to hoof. “I’m sure. And I won’t be taking any caravans, either. Something tells me that they’d be too easy to track in a town like this. No, I’d rather get to the next town on hoof and see if I can’t join a caravan there.”

“The nearest town in the west is called Sun Lake. I don’t know why. It doesn’t have a lake.” A moment’s pause. “It’ll take you about seven days to get there. That’s only a guess. I don’t know how fast you normally travel.”

“I’ve enough food and water on me to last that long easily.” Rarity cast a glance at the sun from under her hat. “It won’t be a pleasant week, but I’ll make do.”

“I think you’re overburdening yourself. There’s no reason not to take a sand lizard. It would cut your travel time down to three or four days.”

With a deep sigh, Rarity turned to her host. “Maud, I appreciate the…” Concern? Was Maud concerned? She couldn’t tell. “Advice. Really, I do. But I assure you, I have my reasons and I know what I’m doing.”

Maud’s eyes narrowed. “Do you?”

Wincing, Rarity glanced away. “Okay, maybe not, not really. But I’ve made my decision.”

The mare continued to stare at her. And stare. And stare some more. Rarity fidgeted, one hand rubbing her necklace. What was the pony thinking? If only Maud would be a bit more… emotional!

“You should write.”

Rarity’s ears perked. “Beg pardon?”

Maud nodded. “Marble. She could use a pen pal. It would be good for her. She’ll worry about you if you don’t.”

“Oh.” Why would Marble worry? Then again, she did seem the gentle sort. Rarity had no idea what she might say to a pony as shy as Marble, in pony or in a letter. The mare simply hadn’t given her much to go by. She supposed there was nothing wrong with trying, though.

The idea sounded more appealing by the second. Spike was supporting her by correspondence. Marble could be a second point of contact. After all, there were certain things a mare didn’t wish to speak of with anypony but another mare. Not that she even knew her and Marble would ever be close enough for that kind of personal communication, but it was a thought.

“Alright.” Rarity smiled and nodded. “I’ll write. It’ll be nice, having somepony to communicate with every now and then.”

“Good. I’m sure Marble will be happy to hear it.” Maud looked towards the sun, shielding her eyes. “You should go soon. Do you have everything you need?”

“Indeed, I do,” Rarity replied, fingers drifting across Silver Lining’s grip. She adjusted her backpack and offered her hand to Maud. “Thank you for all your help. I don’t know what I did to warrant your kindness, but it is greatly appreciated.”

“You needed help. Pinkie said you deserved it.” Maud accepted the handshake, and her grip was much gentler this time – though still harder than the average stallion. “Pinkie’s usually right about these things.”

“Er… right. Well, perhaps someday I’ll meet your dear sister in Hoofington.”

“Maybe. Good luck. Don’t die.” And then Maud was off, walking at a slow pace back towards the Pie House.

Rarity watched her go for a time, wondering about the Pie Family and its strange mares. Still, they had helped her out when she’d needed it, and she was happy to have met them.
> Episode 08: Desert Rider
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


36th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


Rarity gazed upon a curious sight. At the bottom of the hill was a tent and assorted items, clearly used recently if the disturbed sand and dirt were anything to go by. She’d stumbled upon a camp, and yet said camp appeared deserted. What made the sight the most strange was the… thing sitting beside the tent. She couldn’t tell what it was from this distance save that it had two wheels and was made from metal.

Wiping three days’ worth of sweat from her brow, Rarity wondered about the nature of her find. She cast her gaze about the landscape, from the yellow and white desert in the north to the Dragon’s Teeth looming over her in the south. There was not a soul in sight, but given that the landscape was nothing but rocky, barren hills this came as no surprise. She doubted she was dealing with any bandits, for the tent couldn’t have held more than two ponies, but she still felt the need to be wary.

Go around or investigate? It was possible the owner was still nearby, and she didn’t want them to find her snooping around and think her a thief. Then again, it could be the owners were themselves victims of something, and going around might just lead her straight to said something. “Damned if I do,” she muttered under her breath.

A hot wind blew in from the north, forcing her to push her mane from her face. She realized the decision was moot. If anyone was here and interested in the camp, they almost certainly had spotted her by now. And if they had nefarious intentions, they’d come at her one way or another. Better to deal with the situation and be done with it. With her mind made up, she started down the hill.

Upon reaching the bottom, she called out at what she hoped was a volume that wouldn’t carry over the surroundings hills. “Hello? I hope I’m not arriving at a bad time.”

No answer. She didn’t know whether that was a good sign or not. She kept her ears perked, but that did nothing to protect her from the sinking feeling in her stomach. She approached the tent slowly, hands raised. “I’m not here to cause any trouble. I’m just passing through.” She paused at the closed tent flap. “Is anypony in there?”

After a few quiet seconds of nothing but wind, Rarity lowered her hands. It seems there’s nopony here. She considered investigating the tent, but decided against it. If somepony was still around, perhaps having left the area for a bit, then she didn’t want them coming back to find her rifling through their belongings.

There was no getting out of investigating the machine, though. She walked over to study it, quickly coming to the conclusion that it was beyond Equestrian. The device was crafted largely of metal pieces, appearing smooth and sleek. It stood on two wheels, its balance maintained by a small stand connected to its side. It possessed two… chairs? Yes, chairs, one behind the other, and before them were bars that appeared to connect directly to the front wheel.

And what strange wheels they were! They were thick, heavy looking things with spokes made from a kind of metal she didn’t recognize. Thick plates covered the outer edge of each wheel. Above those, where the strange bars and the front of the machine came together, sat a circular apparatus in which a large, blue-glowing diamond rested. A closer look revealed little spikes and dimples within the apparatus, which Rarity easily recognized as some sort of magical equipment.

“How queer.” She stepped back to the side of the thing and observed a large metal… something… beneath the seats. A mess of tubes, wires, and plates. She couldn’t imagine what it might be. She was tempted to touch it, but at the same time feared it would react to her in some horrible way. Her eyes drifted to the large number of bags hanging from the backside of the device. “Maybe it’s used for transportation?”

A shadow flitted by. Some sort of bird? She looked into the sky, wondering what one would be doing way out—

A shriek left her lips as something large and turquoise shot straight for her! Rarity had just enough time to register that it was a pony before leaping backwards. A curved cavalry sword whistled through the air so close she thought she could feel the wind of its passing over her muzzle. Her eyes met the orange gaze of her assailant for but an instant, and then the pony was off, a streak of lightning in her wake.

Rarity landed hard on her rump, but wasted no time jumping to her hooves. The pegasus, sporting a light brown jacket, was circling around for another attack. Gritting her teeth, Rarity pulled Silver Lining from her holster and took aim. She remembered Cranky’s advice and tried to aim ahead of the pony’s flight, but the pegasus bobbed and weaved through the air. Not sure if she could hit such a fast target, she nonetheless pulled the trigger.

She was rewarded with a quiet click.

Heart slamming into her throat, Rarity checked the gun and realized that, like a fool, she’d left the safety on. She grit her teeth, fixed the problem, took—“Whoa!”

The pegasus was right there! Silver Lining fired early and Rarity’s eyes went wide at the sword slicing for her face. At the last moment she twisted her body, the blade flashing past and leaving a nick on her ear that tingled. Her balance upended once again, she wobbled and did a small dance to keep on her hooves even as she tried to keep track of the enemy.

Something blue leapt out from behind the tent, another pony. Mane and tail dyed with all the colors of the rainbow, the newcomer leveled a break action, sawed off double-barreled shotgun at Rarity’s chest. With a yelp, she let her legs go limp and dropped to the ground as buckshot tore through the air where she’d been standing. Ears ringing from the blast, she brought Silver Lining up and fired, but the blue pony was already back behind the tent.

“Why are so many creatures trying to kill me lately?” Outnumbered and fearing there might be even more bandits out there, Rarity rolled to her hooves and pulled out Ruby Heart. A haughty voice in the back of her head started lecturing her about using bullets she couldn’t afford to waste, but she silenced it with a growl. The turquoise pegasus was coming in for another pass and Rarity had no intention of wasting bullets.

With no time to aim, she instead dove behind the machine just as the pegasus reached her. The sword, now coated in electric energy, stabbed at the air around her hiding place, but missed by inches. Rarity rose, aimed Silver Lining, then ducked again as the blue pony appeared once more to fire a shot, peppering the machine with lead that rang noisily against the metal. She tried to rise, only to find the shotgun still aimed her way, and dropped to a second shot.

Rarity came to some rapid conclusions, most prominent being that the blue pony could only fire two shots at most, if she didn’t fire both barrels at once. And if they were alternating then… She whipped around and fired Silver Lining and Ruby Heart in unison. The pegasus, in the middle of an attack run, cursed and barrel-rolled away.

Her left hand tingled from the kick of the Ruby Heart. Sweet Sisters, that thing feels powerful! Wasting no time, she jumped sideways and spun, Ruby Heart firing on the blue pony just as she started to emerge from the behind the tent. The pony yelped and jumped back with a flap of… wings? She was a pegasus too? So why wasn’t she flying like—

“Confound it!” She turned to the sound of flapping on her right and fired, the turquoise pegasus spinning away once again. So much for not wasting bullets. “I don’t want to kill you, so stop it!” She leapt back to the safety of the machine just as the shotgun fired, wincing at the sensation of something biting into her leg. But only a bite, so it had probably been only a close call.

Rarity had had enough. She broke into a run, circled around the machine and headed for the side of the tent opposite where the blue pony had been emerging.

“Rainbow, look out! Left, left!”

The flier’s warning served the both of them, and Rarity slid to a stop before reaching the corner. The shotgun let loose its second payload, ripping holes in the fabric right in front of her. Grimacing, she pointed both guns at the tent in a guess and fired at a wide angle. She was rewarded with a cry, but couldn’t tell if she’d hit or had merely surprised her opponent. Not wanting to take any chances, she hurried around the corner and caught the blue pegasus retreating with startling speed despite being on her hooves. She took aim and—

Wait, did that pony only have one wing?

A shadow passed over her. She dodged to the left. Pain burst in her side, accompanied by a brief electric shock that made her hair stand on end. It was enough to make her cry out and lose her balance. She hit the ground, but kept Silver Lining up to follow the pegasus’s retreat. One shot, but the accursed creature had already whipped away from where she’d aimed.

Running on pure adrenaline, Rarity sat up and aimed Silver Lining once more at the blue pegasus, who was just starting to lower the barrel of her shotgun. Not fast enough: Rarity pulled the trigger.

Only to hear a click. The blue pony grinned.

Heart leaping into her throat, knowing she couldn’t possibly dodge in her position, Rarity did the first thing that came to mind. Her horn lit up, firing off a small burst of telekinesis that nudged the barrel of the shotgun sideways. The gun fired explosively from both barrels, unleashing its payload on the tent.

“Luna damn it!” The pegasus dove out of the way before Rarity could get the Ruby Heart aimed. Knowing she might have only seconds, she rolled sideways and onto her hooves. Her eyes went up to find the turquoise pegasus dropping down from almost right above her. There was no time to aim, no time to dodge, no time for anything but—

The pony slammed hooves first into Rarity’s chest, sending her sprawling and tingling electric energy up and down her body. Focusing through the pain and the world flying past, Rarity grasped the sword in her magic just in time to stop its swing from slicing her throat. The two landed in the dirt, Rarity on her back and the pegasus kneeling on her chest, the sword shaking in their combined physical and magical grasps.

“Geez, what does it take to kill you?” The pegasus snarled, fighting with both hands to overwhelm Rarity’s magic.

“What does it take to not have ponies want to kill me?” she retorted with equal venom. She let go of Silver Lining to grasp the mare’s wrist, ignoring the tingling shock of the pegasus’s magic, then brought the Ruby Heart up over the pony’s arms. She pressed the barrel against the side of her opponent’s face, but the mare twisted her neck just as the gun fired. Yelping, the pegasus flapped her wings and flew backwards, a red line on her cheek. Rarity leaned up, tracking the mare’s retreat through the sights—

“Bye-bye, babe.”

Rarity’s world almost seemed to go still. She could see the blue pony out the corner of her eye, not four feet away and with the shotgun already leveled. Panic swelled within her. She tried to move, tried to light her horn, but knew that she’d never be fast enough this time. Her entire world became those two barrels and the metal death they were ready to unleash.

A snap filled the air, and the barrel shot sideways as something cracked against the blue pony’s arm. The gun roared, but the buckshot flew well over Rarity’s shoulder.

Rarity hissed, the expected pain not coming. She didn’t realize the Ruby Heart was moving towards her foe. The bandit did, though, and leapt away just in time to avoid a ruby-tipped bullet to the chest. She got it on the shoulder instead, the impact twirling her sideways. Somehow the mare managed to catch herself and stay standing.

The instant she had her balance, a golden coated pegasus rammed into her shoulder first, sending her sprawling.

“W-what?” Rarity felt her jaw drop at the newcomer. Her gun remained aimed, but she couldn’t pull the trigger. She was having trouble even thinking beyond the awareness that she was still alive. The pony could have shot her ten times before she’d even begun to remember that she was supposed to be in a fight.

Fortunately, the newcomer had other plans. A long black whip in one hand and a small pistol in the other, she dodged an incoming strike from the turquoise pegasus. In one smooth motion, she turned and snapped the whip. White energy crackled up the thin wire like electricity, and where the tip fell short of catching the target a burst of pale light radiated like a wave in water. It caught up with the pegasus, who cried out as she started to wobble and fall. The newcomer took aim with her pistol and fired, but the pegasus recovered and caught air in time to avoid the trap, dodging the bullet with a roll.

“Impressive,” the golden mare muttered. She glanced back at Rarity, expression serious. “Oi, you gonna lay there or make yourself useful?” She launched in time to avoid a shot from the blue pegasus’s shotgun.

Snapping out of her stupor, Rarity snatched Silver Lining from the ground and checked its cylinder. Empty. She saw her grounded opponent rapidly adding shells to her shotgun and fired a shot from Ruby Heart. The pony abandoned her shells and dove out of the way just in time. Keeping the gun aimed and moving for the machine to use as cover, Rarity magically fumbled with the release mechanism on Silver Lining. “Come on, it shouldn’t be any harder than using your hands!” But she couldn’t concentrate on the small lever properly while trying to aim Ruby Heart and keep an eye for the turquoise pegasus.

She ducked behind the machine as a spray of lead flew by. “Oh, why is this so much harder than multitasking sewing? I used to divide my attention all the time!” She thrust Ruby Heart into its holster and resorted to using her hands, only now realizing how they were shaking.

The gunshots and crackling whips and shouts faded as Rarity was hit with a strange moment of clarity. Her heart was pounding, sweat poured down her back, her breathing came in short gasps. Aches ran across her body, and there was blood on her shirt. As she stared at her trembling hands, she realized: I’m scared to death. Why did I not even notice it before?

Was she getting used to it? Was that something to be proud of? She didn’t think so. It struck her that bravery was a stupid, stupid thing. But here she was, in the middle of nowhere in a free-for-all with three pegasi for no reason that she could think of other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time. And what for? Because she’d wanted her fate to be decided on her own terms.

Maybe she should have taken up Spike’s offer after all.

A shadow passed overhead. Another. The world began to move once more, and a fresh cylinder snapped into Silver Lining. She was afraid, yes, but she would have to address the matter later. For now?

Stay alive.

Her horn sparked as she attempted a spell she’d never tried before. Yellow, Creation, thrown together at a sloppy pace and entirely on instinct. It might save her life, or it might do nothing at all. There was no time to test.

Rising up, she turned and found the blue pegasus practically on top of her. She cast the spell in a flash, her shield rising up right when the pony unleashed a double-barreled blast of hot metal at her face. The spell popped instantly, sending jolts of fire through Rarity’s horn and making her stumble back, but it served its purpose. Silver Lining came up, and the blue pegasus’s face paled.

Then she dodged the first shot, sprinting sideways with a speed that was astounding. Rarity fired another shot, and another, and another, but the blue mare somehow avoided each one before disappearing behind the tent. “By the Sun, I can’t hit anything today!”

“Lookout, kid!”

Ears perking to the warning, she spun and found the turquoise pegasus coming at her in a shallow dive, tailed by the newcomer. Unable to fire for fear of hitting her presumed ally, Rarity threw herself onto her belly, just escaping a swipe of the pegasus’s electrified sword.

“Nice dodge!” The newcomer gave her a salute as she darted past. “Shotgun’s on your right.”

Sure enough, the blue pegasus was running up from the tent already. Knowing she didn’t have another shield in her and not sure she could recreate it if she tried anyway, Rarity did the next thing that came to mind. The moment the shotgun was aimed, she struck it with another blast of telekinesis. Adrenaline and fear made her put more into the strike than last time, forcing the gun’s aim far to the pony’s left and up before the trigger was pulled.

The pegasus grimaced, her eyes darting in the direction of the shot. Then she did a double take, her eyes going wide. “No!”

Rarity looked over the machine and felt her heart stop. The turquoise pegasus was going down, coat covered in blood. There was no scream, no call of alarm, no attempt to halt her descent. She just fell, body limp and tumbling. She hit the ground near the top of a hill, hard, and was still.

“Lightning!” The pegasus dropped her gun and ran for her downed companion.

And it was over. Rarity watched her former opponent go, a sense of numbness coming over her at the sight. Her breathing gradually slowed, but her heart didn’t stop its mad hammering. She wobbled from side to side, then collapsed in the dirt on her rump. She raised Silver Lining, checking the cylinder on autopilot. One bullet left. She could have shot. Taken down the blue pegasus while she was still shocked by her friend’s fall.

Why did that thought cross her mind?

Her stomach roiled. Something vile wanted to come up, and she took slow, steadying breaths to stop it. “I am not a killer,” she whispered. “I am not a killer.” Slowly, struggling with the trembling of her hands, she put Silver Lining back in its holster.

“You alright, kid?”

Rarity looked up slowly. There was the golden pegasus, body covered in moisture and eyes narrowed with concern. She wore a sweat-stained white shirt beneath a green jacket and loose khaki pants. The whip was rolled up and set to her hip, the gun nowhere to be seen. She held a hand out to Rarity. “Sorry you got caught up in that. I thought you might be a bounty hunter, so I hid. Didn’t know you were being hunted too.”

Trying and failing to control her shaking, Rarity took the mare’s hand and allowed herself to be hauled to her hooves. She stumbled, almost fell again, but the pony steadied her with a hand to the shoulder. “W-what…” She looked to the top of the hill, where the blue pegasus was kneeling beside the body. “What happened to her?”

“You didn’t notice?” At Rarity’s stare, she frowned. “Friendly fire. Pretty sure she was dead before she even knew what happened.”

“Oh.” This thought swam through Rarity’s brain before properly connecting. Her heart sank. “Oh. Oh, oh, oh…” Hands raised to her head, she gazed back up the hill. Her eyes began to burn. “This is my fault. I did it again. Are… are ponies just going to keep dying around me from now on?”

The mare raised an eyebrow. “What are you complaining about? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure those two were out to kill you.”

“That’s beside the point! I am not a killer.” She started for the hill. “I h-have to apologize. I have to—”

“I don’t think you wanna do that.” The mare pulled her back by the shoulders. “You really wanna go talk to her when she just lost her friend? She might come unglued. In fact, I suggest we book it out of here right now, before we find out they had backup.”

Rarity stared at the pony, uncomprehending, awkward, lost.

After a moment of studying Rarity, the mare smiled and offered her hand. “A.K. Yearling, at your service. And you are?”

Slowly, Rarity took the offered hand and let it be pumped up and down. Her eyes returned to the hill. “R-Rarity Belle. Are you sure we shouldn’t…?”

“Ai-yai-yai, you’re really not used to this kind of thing, are you?” Not letting go of Rarity’s hand, Yearling dragged her back towards the small camp. “Come on. I’m leaving, and you’re coming with me.”

“But… but…”

“No buts.”

“O-okay.”

She brought Rarity beside the machine and made her lean against it. Digging through one of the pouches on the back, Yearling pulled out a water jug and shoved it into her hands. “Drink, take a moment to clear your head. Lemme just grab a few things and we’ll go.”

Rarity stared at the jug in her hands, unable to raise it to her lips. The scene replayed in her mind, the way she struck the shotgun with her telekinesis, how it fired to the side and up. The shock in the pony’s eyes, the way she started running. If Rarity had used just a little less force, might the other pony be alive right now?

Would it have mattered? Yearling was right, they were trying to kill her. She shouldn’t feel so terrible about this.

But she did. She felt miserable, as if the Royal Sisters themselves were watching her every move and silently judging her. She hated this feeling, this sense that the world had gone crazy and only she knew it. Every time she got into a fight, ponies died and things got a little bit more insane by virtue of ponies telling her that was okay. It wasn’t okay. How could it be okay? In what sane world was it ‘okay’ to have murdered another pony? She didn’t want it to be okay!

“B-but it’s okay,” she whispered. “It’s… It’s okay.”

If she said it enough times, thought it, would that make it true?

The idea made her shudder.

“I should have taken Spike up on his offer.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she fought back the rising tide that threatened to escape. Slow, steady breaths kept the breakdown from happening, but only barely. She could feel it lingering, just waiting for her defense to slip. She couldn’t think about it. If she thought about it…

Yearling was at her side, the blue pony’s shotgun slung over her shoulder and Rarity’s hat in her free hand. “Hey, you still with me?”

Rarity couldn’t meet her gaze. Talking proved just as impossible. She looked towards the pegasi on the hill. The blue one hadn’t moved from where she’d knelt. Shouldn’t Rarity say something to her?

“Nope, don’t even think about it.” Yearling snapped her fingers before tying the shotgun to the backside of the machine. “Move.”

Responding to the gentle shove, Rarity stood up and stepped away from the machine. She watched in solemn uncertainty as Yearling lifted her leg high to straddle the device as if it were a small sand lizard. Her reeling mind threw in a quiet note that, yes, the thing really was meant for travel. Yearling wrapped her fingers around one of the bars before twisting to face Rarity and patting the seat behind her.

Rarity stared at the seat, gradually coming to recognize the pony’s intention. “B-but I don’t have…” She glanced at how Yearling held the bars. “Those things.”

Yearling shrugged. “So hold on to me.”

That seemed so very improper, and Rarity was tempted to refuse, yet she found she didn’t have the energy to argue. She cast one last look at the blue pony on the hill. It appeared as though she was doing something with her deceased friend’s body. As she watched, Rarity realized that as much as she wanted to apologize, she wanted to get away from… this far more. So, with a quiet whimper, she carefully mounted the machine, feeling awkward in the back seat. The rest only reached to the small of her back, forcing her to lean forward for fear of falling off. Cautiously, she set her hands on Yearling’s shoulders.

“Yeah, that’ll work if you’re eager to fall off when I get going.” Yearling grabbed Rarity’s hands and pulled them down to her waist. It was slim enough to make Rarity self-conscious, and she doubted the extra heat on her cheeks had anything to do with the sun beating down. “Don’t be so nervous, it’s just for safety. Here.” She offered Rarity her hat. “You’re going to want to secure that, or put it between us.”

Not sure what the mare was talking about, Rarity accepted it, only to realize there was something inside. She pulled out a pair of earplugs.

“Good to have those for first time riders. It gets loud.” At Rarity’s blank stare, Yearling rolled her eyes and turned forward. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Feeling more anxious about this entire endeavor by the minute, Rarity nonetheless twisted the earplugs and slipped them in. Not a second later, the machine beneath her gave a roar like a wild beast! Crying out, she wrapped her arms around Yearling, crushing her hat between them. “W-what the hay?” She had to shout to hear herself between the racket and the earplugs.

“Hang on tight, little filly!”

And then the device moved.





Yearling referred to it as a ‘motorcycle,’ which Rarity supposed was a rather fitting name. It ran on a steam engine made much more powerful via magical gems, though Rarity’s brain had lost most of the details. She sat, arms around her knees, and stared at the machine from the opposite side of a small vase-shaped device with a faintly glowing ruby set on top, emitting a steady heat to keep away the chill of a desert night.

For that was where they were: the Great Salt Plains. Nothing but yellow sand dunes and white salt flats as far as the eye could see, and a pale crescent moon surrounded by endless stars. A cold wind blew from the north, whipping up sand and sending her mane into her face. She pushed it back with a delicate finger, eyes shifting to her new companion. Yearling was busy setting up a tent. Apparently she’d grown used to losing them, for she had another two spares aside from that one.

Rarity had spent much of the ‘ride’ in a daze. The death of the turquoise pony sat heavy on her mind. Coupled with her combined awe and fear of the motorcycle itself, she’d been in no position to pay attention to where they’d been going. Only after several hours, in the orange light of sundown, did she realize they’d been travelling north. Why north? There was nothing out here but desert for thousands of miles. On the other side was the Bowl of Equestria, Rarity’s home, but to go straight across the Great Salt Plains to get there was suicide. Not even a motorcycle, which Rarity guessed could outrun a dust devil with ease, would be fast enough to pull off such a journey before starvation did its work.

The tent was complete, and Yearling went to her vehicle to rummage through one of the metal containers on its side. “It’s a good thing this stuff is more solid than iron, y’know? It took a lot of punishment today, what with you kids shooting it up.”

For the first time in a while, Rarity found the will necessary to ask a question. “Where did it come from?”

“Found it in some ruins deep in the Sunpeaks,” Yearling replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “I think it was made by Diamond Dogs. Thing’s gotta be at least a thousand years old.” She pulled out a triangular device, which unfolded to become a tripod. Setting that down over the heating vase, she proceeded to grab two small tin cans and place them on the stand.

Rarity tilted her head. “Why were you in the Sunpeaks?”

“Uh, looking for ruins?” Yearling replied as if the answer were obvious. “I found evidence that the ancient Diamond Dog kingdom of Beagland was there, and I just had to take a look.” She squatted, elbows on her knees, and watched the cans as if they might do some interesting trick in a few seconds. “Found what I think was a town. Neat stuff.”

“Oh.” Rarity waited for her to go on. When she didn’t, “So you’re… an explorer?”

A long, slow sigh. “The word,” Yearling grumbled, “is archaeologist.”

“Oh,” Rarity said again. She couldn’t think of much else to add to that, so she elected to steer the conversation to more familiar territory. “And, um, what were you doing at the Dragon’s Teeth?”

Yearling smirked, her eyes not leaving the cans. “Getting set to go on my next big adventure, of course.” Her expression fell a moment later. “I was gonna leave in the morning, but you and those bounty hunters accelerated my plans. What were they after you for, anyway?”

It was tempting to ask what made Yearling think they were there for Rarity specifically, but she held her tongue; they probably were. Instead, she thought of Braeburn. “I have a bounty on my head.”

“Uh, yeah? That’s kinda why bounty hunters go after somepony.”

The flippant retort brought something boiling up, and it came out of Rarity’s mouth before she could stop it. “Well, excuse me if I had to murder somepony in self-defense! And excuse me if it was either that or have my dignity and marehood stolen by some jerk with no appreciation for the trouble his actions cause others! And excuse me if my life is ruined and I’m running all over Equestria trying to find a place where the stupid Apple Family can’t find me and hunt me down as if I were some common criminal!”

Yearling stared.

Rarity turned her glare away with a sniff. She was crying, confound it all! Letting it all out like that had been a mistake. She didn’t know if she could trust this pony. She felt as if she might scream at any moment, but she sucked air in through gritting teeth and pushed the demon down. Thinking about Braeburn wouldn’t solve anything. She had to maintain control of her emotions.

“Woah. You’ve got the Apple Family after you?” Yearling whistled, a long, somber note. “No wonder those ponies wanted you. That’s a serious price tag right there.”

Rarity shot her a grimace. “Is that all I am to anypony, now? A giant bag of bits?”

“Hey, it’s okay to be angry. Afraid is good too.” Yearling reached out to tap her fingers on the top of the cans. Apparently satisfied, she pulled one off the tripod stand and used the thumb handle to pop off the top. The sharp scent of baked beans filled the air, and she offered the can to Rarity. Once it had been taken in her magic, Yearling promptly retrieved her own can before tossing a spoon for Rarity to catch. She almost didn’t.

Not realizing her own hunger, Rarity took a few bites. The sweet glaze and soft texture were heavenly on her tongue, and already she felt her frayed nerves settling. “Th-thanks. I… I am afraid. Very much so. I’m supposed to be making dresses, not distributing lead across half the continent.”

The conversation lapsed into silence. Rarity’s mind drifted from her lukewarm beans. Gradually, it shifted to the blue mare they’d left behind. Only one wing. What would that kind of thing mean to a pegasus? To be forever stuck on the ground. She’d not met very many pegasi in her life, but she knew enough to understand that they were a proud race of ponies. What terrible thing could have happened to that mare, to force her to live down here and hunt other ponies for a living?

Her gaze rose to Yearling, who seemed preoccupied with her own thoughts. Now that Rarity paid attention, why was this new companion of hers wandering Equestria on a motorcycle? She had two perfectly good wings. If her ability to keep up with that turquoise pegasus was any indication, she also knew how to use them. And most pegasi didn’t care for trotting in the dirt, but Yearling was an archaeologist? Rarity had the feeling there was a story here, but there were other, more pressing matters to fret over. And on that thought…

“Why did you bring me with you?”

Yearling blinked, swallowed her latest spoonful of beans, and looked up. “Huh?”

Turning her gaze to the motorcycle and its fresh scratches, Rarity pressed the query. “You don’t know me. I could be anypony. A bandit, a gang member, a bounty hunter, a bumbling fashionista. Even ignoring all of that, you had no reason to take me with you.” She hunched her shoulders. “N-not that I don’t appreciate the company. I just… I don’t understand what possessed you to do it.”

It was a few seconds before Yearling responded, her frowning expression thoughtful. “You care.” When Rarity turned to her, she elaborated. “If you’re a bounty hunter, you’re a crappy one. Bounty hunters, bandits, those types? They don’t care about the ponies they kill.” She pointed at Rarity with her spoon. “When that pegasus bit it back there, you had a meltdown. They were trying to kill you and still you acted as if your best friend just ate dirt.”

She paused long enough to take another bite of beans, her spoon scraping loudly against the can. While she chewed, her entire disposition changed. Her ears folded back, her shoulders slumped. Her features softened as her eyes focused on something beyond the heating vase. “I remember what that was like. I remember fighting for my life, getting out alive, and feeling nothing but…” She swallowed slowly, her stare centering on Rarity once more. “Ponies who care have it the hardest. When I was in your hooves, I didn’t have anypony to hold my hand.”

They maintained that solemn gaze for some time, the world quiet and the scent of beans in the air. Rarity could feel the burn in her eyes, but she held it back. She would be strong. She wouldn’t let it—

“Stop fighting it.”

Yearling’s words gripped Rarity’s heart, clenching it and threatening to unleash the tantrum inside. “B-but I have to, don’t I? If I’m… If I’m going to live like… like this…”

“It’s not about being strong.” Yearling set her can down and stood, her eyes never leaving Rarity’s.

A hiccup threatened to break the dam. Rarity clutched her tin can tightly. The aura around her spoon sputtered and threatened to wink out. She couldn’t see Yearling’s expression anymore for the blurriness of her eyes. “Th-then… then what is it ab-bout?” A quick rubbing of the eyes gave her back her vision, and in that brief moment of blindness Yearling had disappeared.

“I have no idea.”

Rarity yelped, spinning sideways to find the mare sitting right beside her.

Just before the tears could blur her face again, Yearling’s lips curled up in a small, warm smile. “But I do know what you need right now.”

“And what is—” Rarity found herself the target of a tight hug.

“This,” Yearling whispered. “Let it out, kid. Let it all out.”

Chest hitching, lips trembling, Rarity realized her resistance was about to crumble. It would be humiliating, tragic, improper! And yet… it did feel…

It came out, and the moment it began she knew there could be no stopping it. Her shaking arms wrapped around Yearling’s shoulders and the sob broke free. “I didn’t mean to kill her! I just wanted to live and be a good pony and have a normal, wonderful life in Manehattan! I couldn’t just let him do it and I had to protect Coco and the stupid griffons tried to kidnap all of us and my parents probably think I’m dead and dear little Sweetie Belle I miss you so much!”

More words, more sobs, more shaking. Gradually, Rarity stopped paying any attention to her own words – they weren’t making any sense anyway. She lost track of time, of place, even of whose shoulder she was crying on. She released all the bitterness and confusion and anger in a massive, seemingly endless torrent. When the words stopped flowing she felt so horribly small, like she was a little filly again lost in a great wide desert. She kept seeing visions of the last season.

A turquoise pony falling on and on, seemingly forever, dropping into a dark abyss that Rarity knew was of her own making.

A landscape of bodies. Griffons and ponies lying in heaps, forms shattered and broken, their glassy eyes tracking her as she flew over on blue wings she’d stolen from a pegasus digging a deep hole.

A pale Double Diamond covered in blood, the side of his head popped open like a grape, his fingers wrapped around Rarity’s neck as she failed again and again to grasp her gun in her magic. Piecazzo watched, judging her silently while ravens picked at the open wound on his face.

Braeburn laying on her shop floor, limp in a pool of blood. He stared at her, lips curled in a smug grin. She kept her hands on her bars of her cell, unable to look back.

The sound of a thousand hoofsteps, a whole Family’s worth, grew louder at her back.





She woke slowly, curled up within her sleeping bag and feeling unusually comfortable for it. Cool air blew against her face, and the sway of her mane tickled her nose. She batted it away and tried to get back to sleep, only for the chill wind to return. On the third time, she forced her eyes open.

She was met with the sight of a small blue fan that swung its head back and forth in slow, repetitive motions. What an odd thing. She couldn’t remember ever seeing one that small. Come to think of it, she’d never heard of a portable fan.

Sitting up proved a painful ordeal, sores and aches turning up all over her body. She stretched her arms high, fingers bumping the warm fabric of the tent ceiling. When had she come in here? She took in her surroundings, which didn’t consist of much beyond the ugly green of the tent and a couple canteens in the corner, along with her hat. And only one sleeping bag. Curious, then where was—

A groan rose from her lips as she remembered last night. Had she really broken down in front of a complete stranger? Yearling must think her such a child. She’d have to find some way to save face. This in mind, she took a moment to check herself, only to realize that it was a futile effort. She stunk of sweat and had no means of cleaning or fixing her clothes. At least she could cast a quick cantrip to straighten her mane, but even that didn’t amount to much when it had gone for so long without a good washing.

She could only delay her shame for so long. With butterflies in her stomach, Rarity crawled forward and exited the tent.

It was a bright morning, not a cloud in the clear blue sky. The sun beat down on her from a low angle, but at least it wasn’t as bright as it was hot. Judging by its position, it was still early morning. The equipment all lay where it had last night, though the heating vase no longer had the ruby and so was off. Yearling sat next to her motorcycle, which now lay on the ground with the plating removed from one side.

Rarity came closer, taking a curious look. The inside of the vehicle was a mess of piping, wires, metal frames and mechanical pieces she couldn’t possibly name. It looked like a cross between an elaborate mechanical puzzle and a bomb, and she immediately resolved not to go near any of it lest she make it go off.

Yearling didn’t look up from her work, busy as she was screwing a small round piece into the motorcycle’s innards. “Morning, Princess. Sleep well?”

“I…” Rarity thought back to the strange dreams she’d had. Strange, but nowhere near as bad as the nightmares she’d been having in recent weeks. “I had a ‘better’ sleep, at least. What are you doing?”

“Just a bit of maintenance,” she replied, pausing to wipe sweat from her brow. She’d taken off her jacket, leaving only the white undershirt soaked in sweat. “Little Lightning took a lot of heat yesterday. Gotta make sure he didn’t suffer anything serious with all the bullets flying around.”

Rarity cocked her head. “Little Lightning?”

With a shrug, Yearling went back to work, this time carefully pulling out a long cylinder that had been screwed into the machine. She examined it with peering gaze, muzzle not quite touching the greasy metal. “That’s what it’s called, Little Lightning. Not my choice, whoever made it centuries ago chose the name. Didn’t feel right giving it another.”

“I see.” Rarity had hoped for some sort of segue into the topic, but her conversation skills failed her. “I… um… I wanted to apologize. For my behavior. Last night.” Smooth. She was tempted to facepalm.

“No apologies necessary.” Yearling replaced the cylinder, and soon she was putting the machine back together. “You’ve had a tough time of it, and you’re still pretty new to the whole ‘roughing it’ thing. Sometimes all we need is a shoulder to cry on.”

“And I’m all for it.” Rarity felt the blood rushing to her cheeks and averted her gaze. “With somepony I’m familiar with, as opposed to a total stranger. I imagine it must have been entirely uncomfortable for you.”

With the last of the pieces back in place, Yearling grabbed the plating and began screwing it back onto Little Lightning. “Do you feel better?”

Rarity considered the question. Physically she was in a lot of pain, but it was mostly soreness from yesterday’s… ‘exercise.’ Mentally? She had to acknowledge, she did feel a bit more pleasant compared to how she’d been. Ever since leaving Spike, she’d felt this gloomy cloud hovering over her head. It was still there, reminding her of her foul situation, but it was certainly diminished.

Her new companion probably didn’t need to hear all of that. She elected to condense it down into the simplest of terms: “Yes, I do.”

“Then it was worth it and I don’t mind.” Pocketing her screwdriver, Yearling walked around to grab Little Lightning’s handlebars, lifted it upright with a grunt and visible effort, and used her boot to set the stand. When she stepped back, the motorcycle remained in place despite the sand that shouldn’t have supported it. “Stick with me for a bit. I’ll teach you a thing or two.”

“I must admit, I am out of my element.” Rarity clasped her hands behind her back, studying Yearling as the mare took a drink of water from her canteen. She was by no means a big pony, but she seemed healthy. And strong, if the muscles on her arms were anything to go by. She carried herself with a combination of confidence and carelessness, which made her kind act all the stranger. “I apologize, but it still seems odd to me that you’d so quickly decide to help a stranger such as me.”

Yearling smirked. “That’s a life on the run turning you into a skeptic. It’s not a bad thing. One of the things you learn over time is when to trust ponies and when not to.” She offered Rarity her canteen. “So tell me, would you rather wander Equestria on your own? I for one could use a partner, y’know?”

Sunlight glistened off the metal canteen. Rarity looked from it to Yearling, unable to detect anything untoward. Now that she considered her options, she realized that she’d not really had a plan. Oh, sure, she’d been headed for Las Pegasus, but it wasn’t like she had any reason to be there. Perhaps Yearling was more of a blessing than she thought.

Smiling at last, Rarity took the canteen. “So, ‘partner’, where are we going?”

“Out there!” Yearling whirled around to face the north, hands spread wide.

Rarity almost spat out the water she’d been drinking, and still failed to keep some from dribbling down her chin. She swallowed quickly and whipped her face. “Out there? You mean the seemingly endless desert with the scorching heat, frigid nights, and no resources with which to resupply ourselves for thousands of miles? That out there?”

“You got it, Princess.”

Suddenly, partnering with this pony didn’t seem so wise. “Pray tell, what could possibly make you want to go out there? Or for me to come with?”

Yearling blew a raspberry and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. We’re not gonna cross the thing, just do a little exploring.”

A long, studious gaze brought Rarity’s head a full one-hundred-eighty degrees, from east to north to south. Nothing met her gaze save yellow sands, white salt, and blue skies. “Whatever could you be hoping to find?”

The archeologist shot Rarity a smirk, a hungry look in her eye. “Elysium.”

Yep. Crazy pony. Rarity took a cautious step back. “I can think of two ponies we met recently who would have been happy to send you there without all the hassle of traipsing around the desert.”

Yearling burst out laughing. The sound was almost obscene in the harsh quiet of their surroundings. She seemed to think so too, for she stopped after only a few seconds, cheeks flushed. But her grin remained. “Not that Elysium, silly! Elysium Oasis.”

Rarity blinked. “But isn’t that just an old mare’s tale?”

“No way, it’s real!” Yearling went back to gazing north, hands on her hips as she stood tall and stuck out her chest. “I know it, just like Finland and the Crystal Ruins. And I’m gonna find it, even if it takes me forever.”

It seemed ridiculous, especially considering one of those two destinations she’d named had never been proven to exist. At least, not in modern times. Rarity glanced south, feeling a twinge of unease upon realizing that the Dragon’s Teeth were nowhere to be seen. How far north had the mare already taken them? “I don’t suppose you have a plan to do this that doesn’t involve dying?”

“Of course I do! This ain’t my first rodeo, Princess.” Yearling reached into Little Lightning’s metal containers near the back and pulled out another pair of tin cans. “We’ll have to see how much food and water you brought with you so we can determine exactly how long we can afford to be out there. I’d already planned everything out, but with another mouth to feed those numbers are gonna be all screwed up. Here.” She tossed a can to Rarity, who caught it in her magic. “Have some peaches.”

At least it sounded as if she knew what she was doing, and Rarity had already acknowledged she didn’t have any real plans for the immediate future. Plus, she wasn’t sure she could make it back to the Dragon’s Teeth, much less Rockstead, on her own. Sure, it was as simple as going south, but without a sand lizard and not knowing how far north she was there could be no guarantee of making it there. And Yearling had saved her life.

She popped the can open, and the powerful scent of peaches hit her hard. They smelled amazing, her mouth watering at just the thought of what they might taste like. She lifted a single peach out with her magic, licked her lips, and took a dainty bite. The taste nearly knocked her off her hooves, and she promptly popped the rest of the slice into her eager maw.

And with that magic dancing across her taste buds, Rarity’s mood skyrocketed. Why couldn’t she go with Yearling on this little journey? It wasn’t like she’d be any safer on her own, even if she did know the way, and she might even learn something about surviving out here. As she sucked down another juicy slice of peach, the world suddenly didn’t seem so scary.

“You know what? It. Is. On!”





Rarity eyed the hammer as she might a dangerous creature. “Isn’t there some kind of trick to this?”

Yearling watched from a short ways off, a smirk just beginning to form on her lips. “Yeah. It’s called ‘hitting the nail.’”

With a huff, Rarity set the large nail into the ring at the corner of their tent. “This kind of manual labor is not among my repertoire of skills.” She fumbled with the nail, trying to hold it steady as she aimed the hammer. Once she was… marginally satisfied, she gave it a tap. The dirt beneath the nail failed to give.

“You’ve gotta hit it hard, Princess.”

Shooting her a glare, Rarity tried again with a little more force and achieved nothing.

“Harder.”

Another whack, another failure.

“Harder.”

“I’m trying!” Rarity smacked the nail, but still it didn’t penetrate the ground. “Oh, why can’t I use my magic for this again?”

“You let me worry about why. Harder!”

With a snarl, Rarity brought the hammer down as hard as she could.

Directly onto her hand.





“It’s called a sextant.”

Rarity pulled her bruised hand away from the small contraption. “Seriously?” At Yearling’s nod, she sighed. “Well, I see somepony in the distant past had a dirty mind.”

Rolling her eyes, Yearling turned back to the large map she had spread on a folding table. “Come on, Rarity, that’s foal talk. Be serious, this kind of thing could save your life.”

Tentatively, Rarity stepped closer and took the instrument in her hands. Twisting it to study its every angle, she asked, “And what exactly does a… ‘sextant’ do?”

“You use it to measure angular distance and figure out where you are. Usually you use it on the horizon and a star or the sun.” Moving with great care, Yearling marked a line on the map. “There are a ton of uses for a sextant in navigation, and I’m gonna teach you all of them.”

Frowning, Rarity set the sextant down as if it might break from the tiniest of impacts. “Whatever happened to using a compass?”

With a sigh, Yearling took the sextant and set it so it would keep the map from rolling up on its own. “A compass tells you direction. That’s it. It can’t tell you where you are, how far away that landmark is, or pretty much anything else. If you’re gonna travel alone and you intend to avoid the main paths, you’ve got to learn how to guide yourself.” She reached into a pocket of her coat, pulling out a small brass item and handing it to Rarity.

Rarity took it, raising an eyebrow at the familiar face of the thing. “A watch?”

“A chronometer. Big difference.”

“Uh-huh.” She turned the ‘chronometer’ about in her hands. “Am I to assume we’ll need this for navigation as well?”

“Yep.” Yearling pointed outside the tent. “In a few minutes we’re gonna take some measurements and check our location as the sun is going down. That means measuring the angular distance between the sun and the horizon over a set period of time.”

Rarity blinked, glanced at the sextant, then at the desert world outside the tent. “That requires us to look at the sun, right?”

“Yep.”

A long pause.

“I have no intention of going blind, thank you.”

Yearling facepalmed with a groan.





“Come on, let me shoot it. Just once!”

Rarity took in Yearling’s pleading expression. She reached up to rub the Ruby Heart beneath her vest. “B-but the ammunition is so hard to come by. It requires rubies. Rubies.”

Yearling scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s a 45, isn’t it? I’m sure it can fire regular ammo just as well.”

“I suppose it could.” And that would be much easier to come by, even if the gun would lose its main advantage as a result. “Do you have any?”

“Uh… no.” Yearling wilted, her wings drooping so far the tips of her primaries touched the sand. “Come on, you get an awesome piece of handheld artillery and Mooney’s pistol. That stuff ain’t even fair. You gotta let me try out the Heart!”

Rarity stared at the pegasus. “‘Mooney’s’ pistol?”

Yearling’s head snapped up, her eyes going wide. “Uh, I mean, Silver Lining. Who cares? Just let me—”

“No, that wasn’t some mistake.” Rarity peered at her companion, thumb rubbing the small nub on Silver Lining’s grip. “Why did you call it that? Is ‘Mooney’ the Shrouding Midnight? Where’d that nickname come from?”

“Nope, I ain’t talking!” Yearling crossed her arms and turned away, chin held high. “You won’t let me shoot the Heart, so why should I tell you a thing?”

Rarity smirked even as she watched Yearling’s tail flicking and her wings ruffling. “Don’t think you can play a game like that on me. I don’t even know if you have anything worth learning.”

“Well, this is a fine thanks for showing you how to survive in the wilds on your own.”

That one made Rarity wince. She pulled on her vest to glance at the Ruby Heart in its holster. She had to admit, a bullet or two wouldn’t kill her. She just felt as if every one was precious. A glance at Yearling’s scowl brought her ears low. “Oh, fine, but only a few shots.”

“Yeah!” Yearling spun about to reach for the gun even as Rarity pulled it out.

“And please be careful!” Rarity chewed her lip at the sight of Yearling testing Ruby Heart’s weight. “It was a gift.”

“It’s not like I don’t carry a gun myself, Princess Gunslinger.” She snatched an empty tin can from the ground, which already had multiple holes from Rarity’s previous practice sessions. Yearling tossed it to Rarity, who caught it in her magic. “Now do me a favor and pull.”

Sighing, Rarity sent the can hurtling through the sky. Yearling took aim, holding Ruby Heart with both hands and closing one eye. The shot seemed much louder now that Rarity wasn’t the one firing it, making her flinch and half-raise her hands for her ears. Yearling’s arm swung up wildly as the now-distant can shattered.

“Whooooa, does this thing kick!” Yearling shook her head, rubbed her ear, then stared at Ruby Heart with a manic grin. “I swear to Celestia, this has got to be the sexiest handgun ever.”

Rarity was too busy trying to understand how a gun could be sexy to notice the second tin can, at least until it whacked her upside the head.





One thing Rarity learned quickly: Yearling liked taking naps. Apparently it was a pegasus thing.

Not that she minded the daily routine of it. She cast a glance at the little fan that somehow managed to keep an entire tent cool in the blazing heat of a desert noon. Yearling claimed it was another ‘liberated’ artifact, although she also confessed to having had numerous ponies, both mechanically and magically inclined, work on it to keep it running for so long. When Rarity asked why such a magnificent device hadn’t been produced en mass, Yearling had replied with a quiet “Ponies don’t trust one another” and left it at that.

Setting the topic aside, she examined the sextant in her hands. One task. That was all Yearling had given her before joining the dead in blessed unconsciousness. Rarity had been taught everything, but to actually manage it on her own? She eyed the mark she’d hesitantly made on the map. Had she gotten the numbers wrong? Perhaps her timing with the clo— chronometer had been off. They could end up going in the complete wrong direction, and then Yearling might never trust her with this again.

Yearling let out a yawn and began to stretch atop her sleeping bag, and Rarity’s stomach dropped. She was early! Wasn’t she? Well, maybe not, the pegasus was disturbingly punctual about when she woke up from her naps. Rarity fought down nausea by wondering if all pegasi could time their sleep habits so perfectly. Maybe if she ever met another one she’d be able to ask?

The pegasus sat up and rubbed her eye, glancing at Rarity with the other. “You look like some mare just asked you out when you’re not into mares.”

Rarity blinked. He cheeks started to burn. “E-excuse me?”

“It was just a metaphor, Princess.” Shaking her entire body right to her wingtips, Yearling smacked her lips, then turned to the map on the small table between them. “So, think you know where we are?”

Having the attention now on her work did nothing to calm the moths in Rarity’s gut. She tapped the tips of her forefingers together and hurriedly went over the numbers again in her head. “I… think so?” She repeated the latitude and longitude she’d calculated. Actually, it was the average of three different measurements, because she didn’t trust herself to get it right the first time.

The experienced explorer took Rarity’s notes, written in delicate cursive on a small chalkboard, and studied them. Rarity could do nothing but fidget, her hooves shifting in place and her tail flicking against the inside of the tent. She was gradually getting accustomed to its cramped space.

Yearling gave a huff, set the board down, and smiled. “Good work. The redundancy paid off; with three tries, you really narrowed it down. You’re off juuuuuuust a smudge, but nowhere near enough to be a problem.”

Ears perking, Rarity asked, “You mean I got it right?”

“Within the margin of error.” Yearling snatched a water bag from beside the table and took a quick swig. “Yeah, you got it right. Get this right a few days in a row and I’ll let you do this every day without checking your work.”

Rarity’s chest swelled, and her pride startled her. It had been a long time since she’d acquired a new skill she could boast about. She rather liked the feeling. Perhaps, since she was going to be rambling around Equestria anyway, she could seek out more skills.

Was this how Coco had felt back when she’d been Rarity’s apprentice?





Rarity woke with a start, slapping a hand over her lips to keep the scream at bay. She could still smell and taste the blood on it. She closed her eyes, only to snap them back open so as not to see the horror on Coco’s face. Her shop… so much blood…

Trembling hands covered her face. She fought back a sob. Why did the nightmares have to come back? Why did those two pegasi have to attack her? She’d been doing so well.

“I-I’m not a killer. I’m not a killer.” Holding herself tightly, fingers digging into her shoulders, Rarity rolled into the fetal position and tried to stave off her shivers. “I’m not a killer. I’m n-not a killer. I’m not a killer…”

It wasn’t until the arms wrapped around her shoulders that she remembered she wasn’t alone in the tent. She tensed, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes tight against the tears. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Hush.” Yearling’s voice was but a whisper in her ear. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. It was just a dream.”

“Just a dream.” Breathe. Slower. Slower. “I’m f-fine. I’m not a killer.”

“That’s right.” Fingers massaged her shoulders. Yearling’s breath tickled Rarity’s ear. “Just relax. Do what you gotta do. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Rarity rocked in the mare’s arms, letting the tears flow and hoping her appreciation was understood.





Riding on the back of Little Lightning was still far from Rarity’s favorite experience, especially considering she spent two thirds of her day doing exactly that. She kept her cheek on Yearling’s sweat-coated back, watching the ever-repeating desert scenery pass by at speeds she used to think incredible. By now she trusted her balance enough to let her arms lie limp on her knees, only ever grabbing Yearling’s waist when the pony decided to turn, which was rare.

A glance at the sun told Rarity they’d been riding for some three hours so far that morning, which left them with another three to go before they stopped. They’d pitch their tent, have a quick lunch, then Yearling would sleep away the afternoon while Rarity checked their location, updated the map, and found ways to entertain herself during the hottest part of the day. Sometimes Yearling would stay up for a little while to talk, but never for long.

Then they’d be on Little Lightning again for another six hours. Rarity sighed and glanced back, watching with disinterest as the motorcycle kicked up a cloud of sand in their wake. She played with the idea of probing the wheels’ magical form that let them stick to and push against the soft sands as if they were hard ground, but the practice had grown old.

These were the worst parts of Rarity’s day, when there was nothing to do but hold on and keep an eye open for anything strange in the world around them. It grew boring quickly, and boredom led to thinking. And when Rarity thought, her mind usually swirled around until it drained into dark thoughts involving her future and how it was ruined.

Perhaps she could probe the magic in Little Lightning again. She let her eyes trace the contours of the distant dunes while she pondered that plan.

Somehow, Yearling was convinced there might be some mystical place to find amongst all this sand and heat. Rarity still had her doubts.





“And then, just when I thought the gates would close, trapping me for the rest of eternity among a vengeful swarm of spritebots… I made it through!” Yearling cut a flip in the air and posed, hands to hips and chest thrust out. “It was a close call. I swear I felt my wingtips touch the doors, and I had them tucked in as tight as I could! But I made it, and with the tapestry to boot.”

Rarity clapped dutifully from her place beside the heating vase. “Truly magnificent, Darling!” In truth, she only believed half the story, but that wasn’t the point. Yearling was good at telling them, even if her own parts seemed a little too self-glorifying to be believed. “And whatever happened to the tapestry of Red Gaze?”

The storyteller returned to being a regular explorer upon landing on the rolled up sleeping bag she’d been using as a chair. She took a long-handled spoon and stirred the bubbling stew in the iron pot between the two of them. “I donated it to a museum in Seaddle. Say what you want about them folks, they respect the past.”

“Wait, donated?” Rarity leaned forward. “But don’t you sell artifacts to get by?”

Yearling shrugged. “Not always. Sometimes a lone rich pony will sponsor my expeditions, more often than not a museum curator or mage. Some do it for a promise I’ll give them something worthwhile when I get back, which makes it pretty important I do actually find what I’m looking for most of the time.” She paused to taste the stew, nodded and waved her free hand. Rarity promptly levitated a pair of stone bowls over to her. “More often it’s some jerk who thinks ancient artifacts will grant him or her more power or something. I don’t like working with them, but as long as I’m sure they’re just a crackpot and not on to something legitimately dangerous I’ll take their bits.”

Rarity accepted a full bowl, but didn’t hurry to eat. “And if you find something that is dangerous?”

“Personal collection.”

With a hum, Rarity focused on her food, and Yearling seemed content to do the same. She had no idea how true Yearling’s stories of adventure in search of ancient history were. They could all be wild tales made up on the spot for all she knew. Yet she couldn’t ignore the evidence, and the evidence said that even if Yearling hadn’t been to all the places she’d claimed, she was very much a seasoned explorer.

“So,” she said after swallowing a bite. “What is it ponies say about Seaddle natives?”

“You mean besides that they’re arrogant pricks with their heads stuffed up their butts when not buried in their greedily amassed treasury?”

As Yearling launched into a surprisingly intricate description of Seaddle, its customs and culture, Rarity listened intently. She absorbed everything, for if there was anything she wanted to learn most from Yearling, it was about the real, known, physical places she’d been to. In this the explorer was a motherlode of information, and Rarity intended to mine that vein as much as possible.

Travel was part of her life now. She imagined geography would be a pivotal part of her future success.

And perhaps survival.





“Why a rook?”

Yearling tensed, the small black chess piece disappearing into some inner pocket of her vest. “What rook?” She pretended to focus on the act of getting into her sleeping bag, as if it might actually be difficult.

Observing this behavior with pursed lips, already lying down and comfortable, Rarity turned to face her companion. “The one you stare at every night before bed.”

The adventurer paused, her wings going slack. “Oh. That rook.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it—”

“No, it’s… it’s okay. You caught me, fair and square.” She took her time getting settled for bed. Once on her back, she took the rook out and held it high, gazing at it. Through it. “It’s not something that’s easy to explain.”

Rarity felt as if she were treading dangerous ground. Would the mare get angry if she pressed? Still, Yearling seemed at least somewhat open to discussion, and this was a subject she’d long wanted to broach. Perhaps it would be worth the risk. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just saw you with it a few times and… well, I always wondered where the rest of the set was.”

Yearling was quiet for a time. She turned the rook, its black form polished to a shine. When she finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “There was this pony I met. It was a long time ago. I didn’t know her but for… a week? Maybe. But in that short time, she left a serious impression on me. I became a better, braver pony for having met her.”

A smile crept onto Rarity’s lips. “What was her name?”

“Wild Fire.” The name slipped out of the adventurer with a touch of awe. “She was a drifter. The good kind, the kind that wanted to protect ponies.”

“She sounds lovely.” Propping her head up by an elbow, Rarity studied Yearling’s bright red eyes. She’d never seen the mare like this. She was akin to a filly discussing her role model, and it was almost cute. “So where is she now?”

The glow faded. Yearling’s eyes lowered, her bottom lip poked out a little, and she let out a long, slow breath. “Ponyville.”

Rarity felt her smile vanish. “She was at the Battle of Ponyville?” When the mare didn’t answer, she gaped. “You were at the Battle of Ponyville?”

“Born there.” Yearling’s soft hold became a clenched fist around the chess piece. “I took this off her body after the battle. Then I ran, and spent the rest of my life learning how to survive without a home. I was fourteen.”

“Oh.” What did one say to something like that? ‘I’m sorry’ felt so shallow. “I apologize for asking.”

“It was sixteen years ago.” The rook disappeared from sight, and Yearling set her hands behind her head to gaze at the tent ceiling. “You figure out how to move on from such things. I still look up to her, but honestly? I kinda stopped thinking about her and the rook for a while.”

Settling on her back, Rarity asked, “What changed?”

“You showed up.” Now it seemed Yearling was trying very hard not to look at Rarity. “You’re older than I was, sure, but… I feel like you’re in the same wagon I was back then. It makes me think about Wild Fire, and how much easier things might have been if she’d been around to help me through it.”

So that was why Yearling had been so devoted to her ‘teacher’ role. Rarity didn’t know how to feel about that. Part of her wanted to feel guilty for reminding the archaeologist of such a sad time in her life, but another hoped that, by taking on such a role, Yearling might feel a sense of accomplishment.

There was one thing bubbling up from within that Rarity felt no confusion over at all. “Thank you for being here for me, A.K. Really.”

Yearling met her gaze. It took a moment, but when she smiled it was bright and sincere. “You’re welcome.”

Then she turned away and thrust the top portion of her sleeping bag over her head. “Now enough with the sappy stuff! Can’t maintain my ‘cool adventurer’ status if I’m getting all mushy.”

With a chuckle, Rarity used her horn to extinguish their lamp. “Of course. Good night.”

“Good night.”

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Rarity gazed at the top of their tent and wondered about Yearling’s story. Ponyville. To think, somepony survived. Rarity had only been seven when word passed through Mooisville of the battle. It had seemed so distant and unrelated to her, though it had had the adults around her whispering behind her back for weeks. The wild territories between the city states had always been dangerous, but that event had marked a turning point. Suddenly, the world had become that much darker.

Could Yearling be like her Wild Fire? Then again, did ‘her’ indicate Rarity or Yearling? Perhaps it didn’t matter. Maybe the archaeologist already was a hero drifter. She’d saved Rarity’s life once, and perhaps more than once if her lessons bore fruit. Becoming like Wild Fire might bring fulfillment to Yearling’s life, even if she hadn’t taken that course so far.

And what of Rarity? Her thoughts drifted to what she’d heard in Rockstead weeks before. Bulletproof Heart. The start of a legend? The idea almost made her laugh out loud. She was a clothier. The very thought of killing left her a nervous wreck, to say nothing of the act itself. She had the fancy guns, and yes, she’d even begrudgingly admit she showed some skill. But the mentality of fighting, the desire and willingness eluded her. All Rarity wanted was to make dresses.

Make dresses. She scowled; she’d not make many of those in a long time. All because of some idiot with a gun and his brain between his legs. And the stupid Apples and their damnable family pride! Couldn’t they just accept that Braeburn deserved it and leave her alone?

Had he deserved it?

Of course he did!

Rarity growled and buried her head beneath the pillow. Maybe if she pressed down hard enough, she wouldn’t get into this argument with herself again. She was only punishing herself.

You should! You’ve killed ponies.

She let out a low groan, resigning herself to another night of churning emotions and inner turmoil.
> Episode 09: In Elysium
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


48th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


The roar of Little Lightning’s engine jolted Rarity from her slumber. In her dazed state, she thought that Yearling was doing some kind of maintenance. Her suspicions were foiled when she heard Yearling cursing and scrambling from her sleeping bag for the tent entrance.

That was enough to rouse Rarity, who followed on hands and knees to push the half-open flap aside.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yearling gaped at the sight of a familiar one-winged pegasus sitting atop the motorcycle, looking back at the mares to blow a raspberry. “Get off my bike!”

“Smell ya later, losers!”

As Little Lightning roared away, Yearling growled and spread her wings. “How the hay did you even get out here?” She launched, giving chase to the speeding pony on her bike.

Rarity watched all of this in a mild stupor. Was she dreaming? Because that pony had looked an awful lot like the one who had attacked her a few days ago. Slowly, she stood and watched the two disappear over the top of a sand dune to the east.

She waited, mind numb, half expecting to wake up at any moment. The wind blew sand across the campsite, billowing her hair into her face. Seconds passed.

All was quiet.





What am I going to do?

Rarity paced back and forth in front of the tent. One hand rubbed her necklace, the other toyed with the little nub on Silver Lining’s handle. The sun was well past its zenith. Normally they’d be taking their midday break to escape the heat. But Rarity hadn’t moved, and Yearling still hadn’t returned.

Had something happened to her? Had that blue pegasus overpowered her? Maybe even killed her. Rarity tried not to think on that possibility. Yearling was an experienced and talented mare, she wouldn’t let some punk do her in like that. Perhaps she was still trying to get her bike back. Could a pegasus fly for that long?

Or perhaps she was lost. Yearling might be an able navigator, but she didn’t have any of her tools. Even if she did, if she’d been chasing that pony in anything other than a straight line, how would she know exactly which way to go to get back? She might be wandering the desert right now, hungry and confused and she didn’t even have any water with her! Rarity chewed her fingernails and stared to the east, praying to the Sisters she’d see something.

Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. It wasn’t like Yearling would show up right at that second just because she wished it so.

What am I going to do?

She wiped the sweat from her brow, then glanced at the tent. If she had any sense, she’d get out of this heat. But Yearling… Her eyes drifted to that eastern sand dune once more. Maybe if she went up there again, she might see something different, notice something she’d missed. Then—

“Stop it, Rarity.” She stomped her hoof and turned for the tent. “Don’t be ignorant. You’re no good to anypony dying of heatstroke.” A pause. One last glance to the east.

A long, silent gaze.

With a whimper, she retreated into the coolness of the tent.

“What am I going to do?”





Night had fallen. Yearling still had not returned. Rarity knew she couldn’t sit at the campsite forever. She’d been mulling it over all day, gauging the pros and cons, wondering about the state of her friend. At last, she came to a conclusion.

And so, as the air began to cool, Rarity gathered what she could. She couldn’t carry everything, so a lot had to be left behind. She brought those things she imaged would be important for survival: food and water, the navigational tools, and the heating vase and cooling fan with their accompanying gems. She managed to get the sleeping bag and the folding table tied to her pack, but by then she’d reached her limit. The tent and what remained of the food and water had to be left behind.

When all was set, Rarity began her journey. She travelled east, hoping she might run into Yearling as she did. She knew she couldn’t go very far before she’d have to turn south and back to civilization. If her prior recordings of her location were correct, she would need nearly all her food and water to get there.

She could only hope Yearling was alright.





No sign of Yearling, and it was fast approaching midday. Rarity stumbled, a sleepless night of walking and the ceaseless heat clouding her mind. She needed to rest, sleep away the afternoon like Yearling was so fond of doing. It was fortunate that she’d planned for this.

Dropping her backpack, she pulled out the folding table and set it on a flat spot of salt flat. Then she opened her sleeping bag, letting it spread wide, and lay it on top of the table. Using her magic, the strings already on the sleeping bags and some stitching thread, she secured the bag to the table, then weighed the whole thing down with her backpack.

That done, all that was left was to crawl into the narrow space created by the table and turn on the cooling fan. Space was tight and a lot of the cool air would escape, but it was better than being out in the sun at this time of day. She lay in the salt and sand, barely noting its rough texture as she tried to get some sleep.

Even exhausted as she was, it proved difficult. She kept wondering about Yearling and that blue pegasus. How had that pony even reached so far into the Great Salt Plains? For that matter, how did she know where to go?

Perhaps coming out here was a mistake. If Yearling got back to the tent and all the navigational tools were missing…

Yearling knew the cardinal directions. If she came back, it would be with Little Lightning. She’d make it home without issue.

If she was even alive.

Every thought made Rarity feel more and more lost. She wanted to cry.

She was too exhausted even for that.





Heat radiated up from the surroundings sands. The canteen was warm in her hand. Rarity stared east, waiting for something. Anything. A speck in the distance. A dust cloud. Anything at all.

Nothing happened.

She looked at the canteen. Then at her backpack on the ground by her feet. Her lip trembled as she considered how much supply she had left. Her eyes drifted east once more.

“Come on, Yearling. Show me you’re out there.”

The wind blew her mane past her gaze. A bead of sweat dripped off her chin. The blue sky was clear, not a cloud in sight to guard against Celestia’s brutal sun.

“P-please.”

All around her was nothingness. She perked her ears, swiveling them in many directions, praying for the sound of Little Lightning. After a while, they folded back against her head.

Her heart burned as if the sun had focused all its fiery wrath upon it. Lips trembling, she closed the lid to the canteen, tied it to a ring of her jeans, and shouldered the backpack. With one last, hopeless look to the eastern horizon, she turned right.

South.

“I’m so sorry.”





She awoke to a sound. A sound like… a roar.

With a gasp, Rarity flipped onto her belly and crawled from under the table and sleeping bag into the cool night. Standing up, she turned a slow circle, peering, but she saw no motorcycle. And, as she focused a bit more on the sound, she slowly came to realize that what she was hearing seemed nothing like Little Lightning. No, this was different. Louder.

It was on her third rotation that she noticed what was missing. She had to pause and take a closer look. Sure enough, in one direction the horizon was naught but darkness. What an odd phenomenon. She glanced at the stars overhead, confirming that they did indeed exist, then refocused her attention on the black. Now that she perked her ears properly, she realized that the noise was coming from that direction.

A nervous tingling filled her. Her eyes traced the near-invisible line where stars met darkness. The black swallowed up more and more of the little lights, consuming them like some gluttonous evil from her nightmares. Whatever it was, it was coming closer, and quickly. The frightened filly in the back of her mind screamed at her to flee. That would be pointless. She’d never outrun it.

She slumped and heaved a ragged sigh. “Yearling,” she whispered as the thunderous roar grew near-deafening, “why didn’t you teach me how to deal with this?”

It slammed into her like a solid wall, biting and grinding and snarling. Rarity stumbled back, arms over her face and mouth as the winds shoved against her from every direction. She couldn’t see her little camp anymore, couldn’t even see her legs. The storm raged, shoving her back as if she were nothing more than a child’s toy.

Maybe that’s all she was. Was Discord laughing at her misfortune?

He should. She grit her teeth against the sting of the sand on her cheeks. Her body bent back at the waist as she struggled to stay standing. It’s like my life has become one big play of misery.

She lost her footing and collapsed, falling forever in a world of blackness.





She came to coughing up sand. Gasping for air, she rolled over and vomited, gritty granules clawing at the inside of her throat. It took some time for the coughing and gagging to subside. She registered the soreness of her body before that happened.

Groaning, Rarity sat up and took in her surroundings with heavy eyelids. Sand stretched as far as the eye could see, a desert landscape as familiar as it was not. Her backpack, the sleeping bag, all her navigational equipment… All her supplies.

Gone.

For a long time, she just sat there, shoulders slack and eyes focused upon nothing. Beneath the aching of her body lingered a cool numbness. The world was so bright and… bright. Limply, her hand reached up to grasp at a hat that no longer sat upon her head. Her neck craned back, as if this action might help her find the lost item. The sun glared into her eyes, forcing her to close them and hiss.

And with the pain came a bubbling wave. Small simmers of it slipped out of her throat.

“Is this your doing, Celestia?” Snarling, she pounded the sand with her fists. “Are you having fun? Are you? Did you and your foul sister scheme this up for a laugh?”

She climbed to her hooves, too focused on the boiling cauldron in her soul to care how wobbly her knees were. “Or maybe it was you, Discord? Get a little kick out of picking on somepony, slapping them with a stupid curse? Well kick this!” She thrust her boot out, sending sand flying. Hardly satisfied, she stomped a circle, growling and snarling and kicking.

“I had a business! I had a life! I had friends and a family! Okay, maybe I didn’t appreciate them enough but that’s no reason to throw my life for a Sisters-be-damned loop!” She screamed and gnashed her teeth, flinging her arms about in a mad desire to hit something that wasn’t there. Oh, but to have something to hurt.

“And what about Yearling?” She pointed at the sun. “Get your immortal ass down here and explain to me why she had to become a victim too. Things were finally going right and she might be dead and it’s all my fault!”

Her knees hit the ground, then her elbows. The bubbling cauldron died down, replaced by an ice-cold splash of water over her brain. Her hands trembled, digging trenches in the soft sand.

“It’s m-my fault.” Tears dribbled down her muzzle to speckle the earth. “Those ponies were after me. If I hadn’t met her… If she hadn’t needed to save me…”

She curled into a ball and sobbed.





Every step was like lifting bricks. Rarity’s canteen had long run out and her stomach felt as if it were caving in on itself. The sun dipped closer to the horizon as she pressed onwards. Her face burned, her legs ached, her throat scratched with every breath.

And still she walked. Even with no idea where she was, having lost all her navigational equipment, she walked. South was identifiable enough by day or night.

Deep down, Rarity knew it was pointless. She’d never cover the same kind of distance Little Lightning had, not without her supplies. Every step was just a step closer to the grave. Would she even get one? Would her parents have a tombstone made for her after so long? Just assume the truth and move on with their lives? Maybe she deserved to be forgotten. She’d not been much of a daughter, after all. Running away to pursue childlike dreams, thinking she was too good for them.

Perhaps everything from Braeburn forward was divine punishment, the Sisters’ way of giving her what she deserved. Sisters… sister…

“Sweetie Belle…”

The name came out in a thick rasp that tore at her throat. She felt what might have been the sting of tears. Sweetie… she’d always looked up to her big sister. She shouldn’t have. Rarity was a crummy role model.

“Wow. You’re pathetic.”

Lethargically, she turned her head to Braeburn. He strutted, yet somehow never moved ahead of her. That incessant smirk remained on his lips. “This is the mare who did me in? I expected so much more. It’s just a little sun.”

Rarity focused her attention on the space ahead of her. Tune him out. He’ll go away on his own.

“You know what you need? A pick-me-up! And I’ve got just the thing.” His belt jangled as he began to loosen it.

Her hand went for Silver Lining, fumbling with the safety strap. She turned, teeth gritted and body tense. Braeburn was gone, the ring of his belt buckle fading with the wind.

She stared at where he’d been not a moment before. Her hand drifted from her hip. At last, she turned south.

“You could have gone home.”

Rarity staggered back at the sight of Coco Pommel. “What are you—” Her voice cracked as her throat constricted around dry, stinging words. Grasping at it, she stared wide-eyed at her sad apprentice.

Coco tilted her head. “Was this trip a good idea in the first place? You should have come home with me.”

But she couldn’t. There was no other option. To protect her friends, to protect the town…

“It wouldn’t have killed you to visit your family one last time.” Coco’s body shimmered in the radiating heat, fading away. “You denied them that. Don’t they deserve to see their daughter again?”

Shaking her head, Rarity forced her legs into motion once more. Hallucinations. That’s bad, isn’t it? She kept her eyes on her boots, watching the sand shift and try to suck them down into the earth. She’s wrong. Going home would have been bad. I had to abandon them. It was for their safety.

“You have all the tools at your disposal.” Spike’s head rose from the sands to her left, just enough that the top half of his long face was exposed to the sunlight. He stared at her with green, cool eyes. “I gave them to you. You could have written, told them what was happening.”

Yes… she could have. Why didn’t she? The question brought her to a stop. “Why…?”

“They didn’t even cross your mind, did they? What a good sister and daughter you are.”

“That’s not…” Her eyes burned. She didn’t dare rub them. Her face was too raw for that.

“You could have stayed with me,” he whispered, head steadily being covered in sand once more. “You’d have been a doll. A lovely doll in dresses and finery. Only a doll. But still alive.”

“I… am…” Alive. She was still alive.

“But for how long?” Cranky Doodle loomed over her, astride a bleeding and limping Piecazzo. The sand lizard stared at her with half his face missing, but Cranky didn’t give her so much as a passing glance. “I told ya you weren’t fit for this kind of life, Miss Belle. Now you’re gonna die, alone and forgotten. Maybe next time you’ll listen to your friends. Doubt it, though.”

“L-leave me… alone.” She swallowed. It only made her throat feel worse.

“Or you’ll what?” Maud asked in her tiring monotone. “You’re gonna die. We’re not even real.”

She wished they would shut up. This wasn’t her fault.

“Then whose is it?” Braeburn walked backwards, still smirking. Even as blood ran black down his legs and left a trail in the sand. “Mine? You pulled the trigger, Sweetness.”

Pain was no barrier to her anger. “You made me pull the trigger!”

“Did I?” He cocked his head to one side. The motion was disturbingly similar to how Coco had done it before. “You could have taken it. Oh, sure, you’d have felt like a dirty whorse for the rest of your life, but that’s better than all the shit that’s happened since then, right?”

“I… I…” Her hand slipped from Silver Lining. Her eyes went to the sands once more.

She’d done the right thing. Hadn’t she? She’d protected Coco, protected herself. That made it okay, didn’t it? But she’d killed him. And his friends, and that pegasus. How many more would die if she kept on living?

Maybe…

Maybe this was the better solution, after all.

Her eyes drifted upwards. Braeburn was gone. Instead, she saw something… green. Far, far in the distance. She couldn’t make out anything for the wetness in her eyes, but certainly lots of green. Were the Sisters promising Elysium in exchange for surrender?

Light stung her eyes. But… not sunlight? She looked down, body leaning precariously forward. Her necklace. It was… blinking? “Et tu…?”

Her knees buckled. She didn’t even have the strength to break her fall with her arms. Hot sand bit into her cheek, stinging and cruel.

She just lay there. Maybe… maybe it was better this way.





Awareness came slowly, creeping as if not sure it wanted to commit to the action. Rarity came out of a dream, something to do with hot sand and riding lightning across red clouds around the sun and moon. Was that the kind of thing ponies dreamed of at death’s doorstep? Rarity had always expected purgatory to be conditioned to the individual. In her case? Maybe an endless fashion show where everypony wore mismatching colors and used sewer water for shampoo. Not sand and lightning and celestial bodies.

At last she came to enough to realize she wasn’t floating on the edge of eternity, but instead lying on something soft and fuzzy. Her eyes drifted open to reveal a sloped ceiling of thatch and sticks through which sunlight could be seen. What a… strange thing to wake up to.

Turning her head, she found herself lying on something brown and coated in fur. A bed? Or something similar. As her eyes adjusted to the lighting, she soon realized she was in a thatch room, small enough that her laying form barely fit, but wide. A table sat in the corner, apparently cobbled together from a variety of wood sources, and a chair of similar make but with… was that hide for the seating?

What kind of place had she found herself in?

A doorway stood not a foot from her head, and it was right when she noticed it that a shadow passed by. Rarity flinched and reached for Silver Lining… which wasn’t there. Gasping, she lifted her blanket to look. Her cheeks lit on fire upon realizing that Silver Lining wasn’t the only thing missing; the furs alone kept her from being fully on display to the world. With a whimper, she pulled the faux furs closer to her body, clutching them to her chest. If some vagabond had touched her…

The shadow returned. This time it stayed put. Biting her lip, Rarity looked up.

A yellow mare stared at her from the doorway, her cyan eyes heavy-lidded and hard. She wore what appeared to be a hide dress that only covered one shoulder and stopped just above her knees. Rarity might have been impressed by the stitching were she not avoiding a nauseating reaction to the choice of material. The mare stepped further into the room, revealing a cascade of pink hair that might have been luxurious were it not so tangled. She also had the biggest wings Rarity had ever laid eyes on.

For a time, the two mares merely stared at one another, Rarity clutching the furs to her chest and the stranger’s expression unreadable.

Then it dawned upon Rarity that if the hides were real… the fur probably was too. Her hand slapped over her mouth as her stomach rebelled, but she managed to hold it in. Barely. Have to get away from these things!

Are you serious? You’re naked as the day you were born!

Furs. From living. Creatures.

What if there are stallions out there?

Luna-be-damned furs!

Propriety!

Because furs have more propriety than nudity?

“How…?”

Rarity’s internal argument came to a halt as the pegasus – old or young? It was hard to say – seemed to struggle with her words. A few seconds passed before she tried again. “How do you… feel?” For the harshness of her stare, she had quite the pleasant voice.

Mind still playing catch up, Rarity blurted the first thing that came to mind. “Sickened.” With a blush, she forced herself to press the furs a little tighter to her body. “Exposed?” The fire in her cheeks intensified when her stomach made itself known. “A-and hungry.”

The stranger grunted. She glanced out the door, then back at Rarity. “Wait.” And she was gone again, leaving Rarity alone in the… shack?

Rarity once again considered getting rid of the dead animal bits covering her body, but reminded herself that those dead animal bits were the only things keeping her from going au naturel in front of whomever lived here. She sat up slowly, wincing from the soreness that covered most of her body, and distracted herself with a more thorough check of her surroundings.

If the sunlight through the cracks was any indication, then this really was the only room of the place. In the opposite corner, taking up what room the table and makeshift bed failed to, was a stone bench covered in tools that had to have been handmade. She saw a hammer and a one-handed axe, both made from wood and rock. An assortment of needles hung from hooks on the walls, made from a pale white… stone. She went with stone. Better that than another wave of nausea. Colorful feathers hung from the ceiling, along with her necklace just above her head. A stone flowerpot hung from the lone rafter, and a collection of ceramic bowls sat on a shelf over the table. And then…

Rarity’s eyes widened, for there, leaning against the corner at the foot of her ‘bed’, was a rifle. But not just any rifle. Its barrel was black as night and stretched for longer than any gun Rarity had ever beheld. The stock was a dark brown wood. The weapon featured a bolt-action breech loader and a lengthy scope. Beneath the barrel was another, much wider one that frightened Rarity; what kind of bullet did that fire? She could have fit her fist inside easily!

Etched in the wood between the two barrels was a lone word: Cardinal.

“Here.”

Rarity jumped at the voice. She turned to find a steaming bowl of soup being offered. With whispered thanks, she accepted the food, only to pause and glance at the pegasus’s hide dress. “I… um… What’s in it?”

The mare hesitated, brow furrowing as if in thought. At last she gave a small “Ah” and nodded to herself. “Potatoes. They’re called potatoes.”

Oh. Well, that wasn’t bad at all. Rarity took a careful sip. Her stomach let out another growl as she abandoned all pretense and began to drink in earnest. It was only when she’d gone through about half the bowl that she realized she had no spoon. Oh, who cares? The rest didn’t last long.

Swallowing the last gulp, she took a deep breath and relaxed. The pegasus had been watching her the entire time, eyes still hard. “Thank you, most sincerely. But, um, where am I? And...” She averted her gaze. “W-where are my clothes?”

The mare cocked her head to the side, once again taking on that furrowed brow and pursed lips. She blinked, then her head rose as she looked at something beyond Rarity. Without a word, she walked out of the shack.

Rarity stared at where she’d been. “What a curious individual.” Then she glanced at the furs over her body and shuddered. “What am I saying? Of course she is.” Eyeing the empty doorway, she wondered whether she dared investigate. On the one hand, she really would like to know where she was and get to the bottom of things. On the other, walking around with nothing but – ugh – fur covering her body seemed like a terrible idea.

The pegasus appeared as swiftly as she’d gone, now with something in her arms. She held it out, revealing it to be Rarity’s clothes. “Cleaned.”

With a gasp, Rarity took the clothes and hugged them to her chest. They were a little damp, a testament to their fresh washing. “Thank you! This is perfect.” She wasted no time putting the shirt on, grateful to not have to have the furs covering her bosom. When she looked up, the pegasus was gone again.

Gladly throwing off the furs, Rarity hurried to finish dressing. She was pleasantly startled when she discovered the Message Orb in her jeans’ pocket. She’d forgotten all about it. Thank Luna it hadn’t been lost to the sandstorm. Her boots were resting by the door, but she paused in grabbing them to look outside. What she saw shoved all her thoughts aside and her heart into her throat.

The shack sat next to a wide clearing covered in lush green grass. A small lake stood nearby, surrounded by magnolias, mahoganies, and pines. Ducks swam past a tall egret near the shore while songbirds chirped in the treetops. A fox darted among the tall grass on the far side of the lake, startling a pair of marsh hens that flew away into the surrounding trees. It was perhaps the most picturesque scene Rarity had ever beheld.

“Oh, Yearling… if you could see this.”

The pegasus stood beside a campfire a dozen feet away. She stirred the contents of a large ceramic pot, itself suspended over the fire by a stone stand. Rarity started to approach, only to start at the chilly feel of dew on her bare frogs. She stared at the sparkling grass beneath her, marveling at something she’d not seen since leaving Mooisville. The vicious claw of nostalgia and guilt gripped her heart; she’d had no idea how much she missed grass.

“More?”

Rubbing her eyes, Rarity nodded to the pegasus and approached. “Please.” She set a hand to her chest as her host poured another cup of soup for her. “My name is Rarity Belle. Thank you so much for your help.”

The pegasus handed her the bowl, nodded, and went back to stirring the soup. There were two more bowls set aside, and she grabbed another. Apparently this one was for herself.

Rarity cocked her head. “And… what’s your name?”

For the first time, the hardness in the pegasus’s face cracked. She stared straight ahead, eyes wide and lips moving silently. She appeared… lost. Confused. Then she shook off the moment and regained her hard expression. “Fl… Fluttershy.”

Fluttershy? That name was familiar. Rarity sipped her soup as she tried to recall. A lovely name, a lovely voice… Fluttershy…

Realization struck her like a hammer, and she promptly started to choke and sputter into her soup. Fluttershy shot her a questioning look while Rarity beat against her own chest. As soon as her throat cleared, she said, “Fluttershy Darrow of Dodge Junction? The Angel of Elysium? That Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy’s face twisted into a scowl and she turned back to the fire. “Don’t call me that. I’m not that mare anymore.”

“I love your music!” Rarity paused as another recollection hit her. “B-but I thought you were dead.”

“Is that what they say?” Fluttershy raised her head, once more staring at nothing as she considered this news. “Good. It’s better that way.”

“Better?” Rarity waved a hand at the scenery. “But what are you doing out here?”

The look Fluttershy gave her could have curled the skin of a sand lizard. Rarity flinched and stepped back, cradling her soup in both hands. Was that the wrong thing to ask? “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Fluttershy finished filling her bowl. She turned from Rarity and started for the lake. “You may stay here long enough to recover and gather supplies. You are not welcome here, and will leave when I say so.” She sat on a rock by the water’s edge and sipped her soup, not paying Rarity anymore mind.

Rarity watched her for a time, but realized she’d well and truly been dismissed. Sighing, shoulders sagging, she stared into her cooling soup.

“You and your big mouth, Rarity.”





Fluttershy disappeared. Rarity had gone to retrieve her necklace and… gone, just like that. Rarity still felt weak, but she had no intention of lying on the bed of death again if she could help it. So, to distract herself, she began exploring the oasis. To keep from getting lost, she followed a shallow creek that ran into the lake. The slope of her path was smooth and shallow, and despite the abundance of trees the grass never ended or thinned.

The luxury of grass was so welcome that Rarity didn’t bother with her boots. The sensation of the cool blades on her frogs was nothing short of delightful, a fond reminder of home and foalhood. Despite it being close to midday, the air was cool and free of any excess humidity. The scent of flowers and soil mixed with the fresh air made Rarity feel younger than she had in a long time. There could be no question: this was a paradise.

It was also home to an abundance of wildlife. Mostly birds, but she also saw squirrels and rabbits and once even beheld a tall, bipedal creature that moved around by jumping. The most common animal, however, was a strange sort of deer with long, curly horns. Rarity had met a few deer in her time, but these were different, animals rather than people, walking on four legs instead of two. Whatever they were, they dominated the oasis, never being beyond sight for more than a few minutes.

None of the animals minded her presence. Indeed, she could walk right up to and pet the deer without them giving her so much as a backwards glance. It made for a delightfully peaceful scene, and Rarity was saddened by the knowledge she would have to leave it.

And why? Her thoughts drifted to her host’s unpleasant manner. She couldn’t be a bad pony though, else why would she have saved Rarity’s life? She ran through what she knew of the Angel of Elysium, but it wasn’t much. She’d become one of the extreme few singers to obtain fame across all the Equestrian city states, achieving that status at the tender age of… twelve, was it? Well, that’s the age the rumors frequently suggested at any rate.

Then she’d disappeared. Four years ago, perhaps. The story was that she’d left on a wagon train to perform in Moosiville and never arrived. Everypony had assumed the convoy had fallen victim to one of the usual threats of the ungoverned lands: bandits, illness, maybe even getting lost. To think that the mare had been living here all these years…

But if she’d been so capable as to survive on her own like this, why not come home?

The questions lingered, repeated, begged to be answered. Rarity had little hope of that. The Angel of Elysium didn’t seem interested in her at all, much less in sharing personal information.

The Angel of Elysium. Rarity paused to take in her lovely, green, flourishing surroundings. If this really was the oasis of legend…

What bizarre twist of fate would put the Angel of Elysium in Elysium Oasis?

Yearling would be so jealous. Rarity might have taken some amusement in the idea if she weren’t concerned she may never see the mare again. Was she still wandering the deserts, with or without Little Lightning? And what about that blue pegasus? Maybe they were chasing one another. Rarity kicked a rock into the stream with a pout. How could Yearling just leave her like that?

As her thoughts continued circling around her head, she lost track of time and distance. When she finally focused on the immediate area, she began to wonder how far she’d gone. The forest-like surroundings seemed to stretch on forever. She had no idea if the region was safe, and suddenly being too far away from Fluttershy’s little shack struck her as foolhardy. She didn’t even have her guns. Time to turn back.

Where was Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, anyway? Fluttershy seemed the cautious type. Perhaps she’d hidden them from her, just in case she turned out to be a bandit.

Rarity hadn’t been walking for fifteen minutes when she noticed a well-worn path leading away from the creek. Had she missed it in her pondering? She looked from it to the water. Logic told her to stick to the familiar, lest she become lost. But then…

The little pony in her mind insisted she take a look. There was something out there. Not too far off. How Rarity knew this, she couldn’t say, but the call was very real. Yes, the call. Whatever was out there, it wanted to be found.

“Mysterious urges in my head telling me to do something stupid.” She shook her head and turned from the path. “Ponies will think I’m insane.” And yet she found herself moving towards it anyway, as if by instinct. Reaching up to rub her necklace, which was surprisingly warm, she wondered if she shouldn’t be fighting this mysterious desire.

The path twisted and turned around a myriad of sandstone rock formations taller than Rarity was. Despite the swift changes in elevations, the route was clear, and Rarity presumed Fluttershy took it frequently. At last, she rounded a corner and came upon a large, grassy clearing atop a hill. There was a lone oak tree in the middle of the space, taller and broader than the others. Butterflies flitted past Rarity’s face as she took in the quaint scene… until her eyes settled upon a disturbance near the base of the tree.

Her curiosity and that patient, insistent call begged for an investigation. Rarity saw no reason to deny it. She’d come this far, after all. She approached the tree, fast at first, but slowing steadily as she recognized what she was looking at.

A single grey headstone, wide enough for two graves. Indeed, upon closer inspection Rarity realized it was two graves, as indicated by the two mounds before it. There were no names, but a rough imitation of a crescent moon overlaid over the sun – the traditional symbol of the Church of Mother Night – appeared in the middle of the headstone.

Rarity blinked, eyes steadily growing wider. Set on a small pedestal between the two mounds sat a familiar necklace. It shimmered bronze in the sunlight, with a large, pale stone in the center of two tarnished, cloud-shaped plates. Rarity stared at the piece of jewelry, then slowly, carefully pulled her own necklace from beneath her shirt. The two necklaces were practically identical, not only to one another but also to the one Little Strongheart had been wearing.

Another? Spike had said they were Elements of Harmony. But… that couldn’t…

The gemstone of her necklace flashed a faint purple. The necklace on the pedestal responded in kind with a gentle pink. Rarity almost dropped her necklace at the sight. She held it out at arm’s reach, watching and waiting for a repeat performance, but the necklaces were still. Just her imagination, perhaps? At least that constant urging in the back of her mind had quieted.

She squinted at the gem in her necklace. It was no longer perfectly round. It seemed more… oval-shaped. And it had gained an even darker shade of purple than it had a few weeks ago. Curious. A glance at the other necklace revealed just the typical white stone.

“Okay, Spike,” she muttered, carefully putting the necklace back on. “They’re magical, I’ll grant you that. But I’m still not buying the whole Elements of Harmony story.”

But if they were magical… what exactly did they do?

Rarity abruptly realized that she was asking all the wrong questions at the moment. Her gaze dropped to the graves once more, and a wave of guilt washed over her. Here she was, standing over the bodies of ponies Fluttershy had known, and all she could think of was a set of mysterious magical jewelry. She forced her attention to what really mattered, namely who these two ponies had been. Assuming they had been ponies at all.

Was this why Fluttershy hadn’t left the oasis? It seemed a reasonable assumption to make. But who had they been to Fluttershy? Now redirected, Rarity’s mind was brimming with questions. Perhaps if she could get to the bottom of this, the Angel of Elysium might… leave… Elysium…

“What are you thinking, Rarity?” She rubbed her forehead just beneath her horn and turned away from the graves. “You don’t want to get her caught up in… in you. You destroy everything you touch.”

The hard truth of those words weighed upon her shoulders. She cast one last glance at the graves and the necklace on display between them. Then, with a bitter sigh, she left the clearing behind.





One of the things Rarity neither expected or wanted to ever see was the insides of an animal. So when she walked into the clearing to find her host skinning one of the deer-like creatures on a slab of stone, she reacted as any pony might be expected to: she ran back to the woods and vomited in the bushes.

It took her nearly thirty minutes to conjure up the will to return, at which point she found a blood-soaked Fluttershy elbow-deep in the skinned creature’s belly. Rarity stood her ground, a hand to her lips and stomach heaving, to watch the scene. “F-Fl… Darling? W-what are…? Why…? Oh, d-dear…”

Fluttershy didn’t bother to look up from her work. “She was old. Suffering. They come to me when they know the end is near.” She pulled out something that Rarity thought might be a liver, setting it aside carefully. “It works better for all of us this way.”

“But… that doesn’t exp-plain…” Rarity’s throat fought with her. She had to close her eyes and turn away from the grisly scene.

Fluttershy responded with the same toneless manner. “The skins can keep me warm. The hide is strong and tough material. The bones make good tools.” A popping sound that made Rarity wince. “I ease their last moments. They give me resources that help me survive. What I don’t use is fed to the predators, sparing a life for another day.”

That certainly explained the fur bedding. “So it’s a… a cycle of life thing?”

“If you wish to call it that.”

There came a ripping sound, and then a foul stench struck Rarity’s nostrils. She promptly fled, morbid curiosity vanished entirely in favor of not witnessing any more of the disturbing scene.

At least now she had a better idea of how Fluttershy survived out here.





“It was the oryx that found you.”

Rarity looked up from her bowl of stew to her host over the fire. “Pardon?”

Night had fallen, bringing with it a fierce chill that led Rarity to begrudgingly accept the hide coat Fluttershy had mutely offered. The two sat opposite one another, Fluttershy upon the (mercifully cleaned) slab of rock and Rarity on the hide seat taken from the shack. The firelight glimmered in Fluttershy’s hard eyes while she sharpened a piece of bone for some indecipherable purpose.

Fluttershy spoke quietly, eyes not leaving her work. “The oryx. The deer-like creatures. They noticed you in the desert. Told me you were there.”

By now Rarity had gathered that Fluttershy was somehow able to commune with the creatures of the oasis. She frowned and took a sip of her soup, leaving her time to think. Does this mean the creatures here are intelligent? I suppose I’ll have to thank them. “I don’t suppose they’d understand me if I tried to show my appreciation?”

“The Scimitar would understand.”

“The… scimitar?”

Fluttershy met her gaze, but only briefly. “The animals wouldn’t understand. Not by themselves.”

“Oh.” Then how was Rarity meant to show her appreciation?

“Why are you here?”

The question came with no less enthusiasm than any other, but it still made Rarity’s ears droop. She sighed and looked up at the starry night sky. “I suppose that is the question, isn’t it? If you want the most direct answer, I guess I’d have to say I was looking for this place.”

The sharpening ceased. Fluttershy really looked at Rarity this time, her lips set in a thin line and her brow furrowing.

Flinching from that gaze, Rarity turned her head away. “I’ve been lost for a long while now. A couple weeks ago I met an explorer who was looking for the legendary Elysium Oasis. I just sort of… tagged along. She had valuable skills she could teach me, and it’s not as if I was going anywhere in particular in a hurry. Honestly? I didn’t think this place existed up until I woke up here.”

Fluttershy didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. “And where is this explorer now?”

The question skewered Rarity’s chest and left her dangling over the fire in a slump. “I don’t know. We got separated, and then there was a sandstorm and I lost all my supplies. She’s… she’s out there somewhere. Dead, maybe? I wish I knew.” Her hands shook, threatening to spill her meal. “It’s all my fault. Those bounty hunters were after me. If I’d let it be, gone my own way, m-maybe—”

“Stop.”

She looked up. Fluttershy was back to sharpening the bone. “What?”

“Stop,” her host repeated. “Blaming yourself for the actions of others is stupid. Deal with it. Deal with them.”

Rarity grimaced and turned her attention back to the crackling fire. “It’s not that simple. I’ve got an entire gang and a major Family out looking for me. I might have to k… k-kill one or two in self-defense, but that won’t stop the rest. I can only run and hide and hope they don’t find me.”

For a time, Fluttershy kept sharpening her bone, the small stone scraping against the white material and filling the night air with its rasping. At last, she set the stone aside and examined her work, tapping the sharp tip with her finger. “You can’t stay.”

Rarity’s response was a mere whisper. “I’m not asking to.”

“Good.” Fluttershy stood, but didn’t leave. She stared at Rarity for some time. It wasn’t a glare, but it still had Rarity fidgeting.

As the silence grew uncomfortably long, Rarity finally found her voice. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just…” Fluttershy sucked in a deep breath. Her grip on the bone tightened. “No.” she walked past for the shack, leaving Rarity by the fire.

Her shivering had nothing to do with the cold.





Rarity slept outside, near the fire. Fluttershy provided some extra furs for her to sleep on and under. Sleeping with dead animal parts was disturbing to say the least, and gave Rarity an extra subject for her nightmares that night, but there could be no denying the warmth they provided. She awoke to find a bowl of pears by her head and her host missing. She only ate one of the pears, having not much of an appetite.

Her first task of the morning was to quietly search the shack. Her hopes for finding Ruby Heart and Silver Lining were dashed. There weren’t many places to hide such things and Rarity couldn’t make a mess. Fluttershy was being kind enough to let her stay, and Rarity didn’t want to risk offending her in such a way. Besides, something told her Fluttershy was more than capable of delivering a painful punishment for such infractions.

With nothing better to do, Rarity decided to explore another path through the oasis, this time going in the opposite direction as she had the day before. The new route proved little different from the last, surrounded by foliage and providing more than a few animal sightings. She was given a great surprise, however, when she came across a large cat with short, orange fur and black stripes. The big beast was well away from the path and busy eating one of those two-legged jumping creatures. The big cat saw her passing by, but thankfully chose to ignore her. Rarity hurried on, wishing she had one of her weapons.

Not ten minutes later, she came upon a wide clearing with a pond. There she found Fluttershy busy weeding a small garden by the water.

“Oh, Darling, am I glad to see you.”

Fluttershy’s ears turned her way, but otherwise the pegasus gave no response. She’d built up a small pile of roots next to… tomato plants? Not ripe yet, but certainly tomatoes. Would this place never cease to surprise?

Standing a respectful distance away, Rarity glance back the way she came. “There was this big cat creature eating one of your animals! Don’t you think I should be armed if I’m going to be here for any amount of time?”

“That’s Chowgarth,” Fluttershy said without looking up. “She won’t hurt you. She only hunts the wild game. She might come by to eat the leftovers from when I euthanize an animal, though.”

Rarity swallowed, trying not to imagine that creature stalking around the camp while she was sleeping in the middle of it. “That’s… fascinating, but I would really like to have my guns back. You know, just in case?”

Fluttershy shifted over to the next row of plants – green beans, from the looks of them – and continued her dirty work. “You can have your guns when you leave the oasis. No sooner. I won’t risk you hurting one of my animal friends.”

Biting her lip, Rarity glanced back at the path. Maybe her host did know better, but that didn’t make things any easier for her. “Well, what if you gave them to me without any ammunition?” She caught Fluttershy’s scowl and rubbed at her necklace. “You know, for comfort’s sake?”

“No.”

“Oh. A-all right.” What else was Rarity supposed to say? As much as she feared this place, she didn’t want to risk Fluttershy’s anger. She watched the pegasus as she worked, taking note of her thin but muscular arms, her petite frame, her long, dirty pink mane and tail. Come to think of it, she’d never seen her use those wings for anything. Not that it mattered. Despite her small form, Fluttershy clearly had the muscle and experience to do what she pleased, and her wings were glorious to behold. Perhaps that was why the animals didn’t appear to frighten her at all.

After a few minutes of restless watching, Rarity asked, “Could I help?”

“I’ve got it.”

She opened her mouth to insist, thought better of it and stepped back. “Okay. I’m sorry if I’m intruding. I just want to be helpful. You did save my life.”

“You’ll be helpful by leaving when I tell you and not telling a soul about this place.”

Rarity stared at her for some time. “You really don’t like me, do you?”

Fluttershy paused. Her eyes narrowed, gazing beyond the weed she’d been about to pull out. Her muscles tensed, relaxed, tensed again. Her wings flexed and shook, as if to be rid of dirt. At last, she sat up and turned to Rarity. “Why are you being hunted?”

A heavy weight fell upon Rarity’s shoulders. No, that was wrong. The weight had always been there, she’d just been neglecting it. Now that the question was out and the memories were surging, Rarity felt like she might have to sit down or be crushed. But she remained standing, meeting Fluttershy’s hard gaze.

She spoke slowly, forcing the words out. “A stallion tried to ra— hurt me and a friend. It was him or us and I…” She hugged herself and looked away. “I made sure it was him. His friends and family have been after me ever since.”

Tilting her head just slightly, Fluttershy asked, “Is this the same friend who you lost in the desert?”

“No. A different one. A… ‘sweeter’ one.” Rarity sighed as she pictured Coco’s lovely smile. “I left her behind. They were after me, not her.”

Silence spread between them. Awkward, at least for Rarity. She wondered if her brief explanation had any effect on her host. Maybe not.

Fluttershy spoke, and her voice was surprisingly soft. “I don’t hate you, Rarity. I just…” She turned away, face hidden behind her mane. “I was close to somepony once. Losing them almost killed me.”

Rarity tensed. Would it be considered a breach of trust? She elected to take the risk. “Was it the two buried on the other side of the oasis?” Fluttershy shot her a withering scowl, prompting her to add, “I didn’t mean to pry. I was just exploring and came upon them.”

Fluttershy’s nostrils flared, but she took a few deep breaths. Steadily, the tension left her body. “I guess I can’t blame you. Yes, that is them. My son is there. I don’t know what happened to my husband’s body, but it felt appropriate to give him something.”

This news made Rarity’s stomach sink. She dropped to her knees to be at Fluttershy’s eye level. “I didn’t know the Angel of Elysium—”

“Don’t call me that.”

A beat. “You. I didn’t know you were married. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You weren’t there.” Fluttershy returned to her work, digging through the soil with her bare hands. “I’m sorry if I seem mean. I’m not used to having visitors.”

Which brought up another question Rarity hesitated to let loose on the first somewhat civil conversation they’d had so far. Still, she had no idea when Fluttershy would demand she leave the oasis, and if she couldn’t get her talking after this… “Have you been here, alone, the entire four years?”

Mercifully, the query didn’t seem to bother Fluttershy. “I don’t know. I’ve not been keeping track of time since I arrived. No point.”

“And I suppose you have no intention of leaving.”

Though she didn’t stop her work, Fluttershy’s face softened to a thoughtful expression. “They call this place Elysium Oasis. They say it’s sacred, though nopony could tell me why.” She finished and moved on to the next trio of plants. Lettuce. “In this place, there are no fights. No bits or gems. No love. Only nature.”

She paused to stare at the far side of the clearing. Her eyes focused on something beyond sight or knowledge as she spoke. “Nopony loves me. Nopony hates me. It’s safe from those kinds of pain. This is my home, and my fortress. No, Rarity, I don’t ever want to leave.” She shook herself, wings fluttering, and resumed her work. “And I don’t want neighbors. Forgive my bluntness.”

Rarity studied the young mare – for now she could see that Fluttershy was indeed young. She saw strength in that petite body… but her movements were fast. Jerky. There was a tension there, waiting to be unleashed. At last she understood that the hardness of her host had nothing to do with hatred or cruelty, and everything to do with fear. Fluttershy was so very afraid, and Rarity was the source.

Despite appearances, she must be a very fragile pony. So fragile that she created a prison for herself in the form of this oasis.

Slowly, gently, she reached out to touch Fluttershy's shoulder. The young mare jumped at the contact and recoiled, mouth twisting into a snarl. Rarity ignored the reaction, instead brushing the mare’s mane back and studying her with a smile. A curious but familiar warmth guided her forward, and before Fluttershy could avoid it she’d pulled her into a tight hug.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I know I have no right to do this,” Rarity whispered in her ear. “But somepony has to.”

Fluttershy squirmed in her hold, but made no attempt to break free. “A hug won’t change things.”

“No.” She felt her smile widen just a touch. “But I’m giving you one, anyway. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

Small hands pressed against her waist as if to push her away, but they had no force behind them. “I’m still not letting you stay.”

“Then I’d best do this as much as I can while I’m here.” She emphasized her point by squeezing a little harder.

The hands pressed just a little, then fell away. Fluttershy heaved a sigh. “Can I please get back to work now?”

With a chuckle, Rarity obliged, scooting back from the garden and settling to the ground with legs crossed. Fluttershy’s face was like a ripe tomato. She didn’t get back to work right away, instead staring at the ground with her hands in her lap. At last, she turned back to her lettuce to resume plucking weeds. “That was stupid.”

Rarity felt a refreshing new energy course through her. She bounced in place and giggled. “At least this stupid thing feels good.”

“Does not.”

“Liar.”

At Fluttershy’s pouting glance, she stuck her tongue out. Did the mare’s lips turn up just a tiny bit? It might have been a trick of the light. Fluttershy turned away too swiftly for her to confirm.





They walked back to the shack together, and Rarity was pleased to see that Chowgarth had moved on. As they walked, Rarity realized she’d neglected something. Fishing out her necklace from beneath her shirt, she asked, “Have you any idea what this is?”

Fluttershy spared the jewelry only a brief glance. “Something important.”

“Um, care to elaborate, darling?”

“I can’t. Not really.” She shrugged. “The one you saw with my family was already here when I arrived. It’s at the exact center of the oasis.” She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing in thought. “I think it’s the reason the oasis exists in the first place. I could always sense something when I’m near it, something… warm.”

Rarity studied the necklace and its purple gemstone. “Warm?”

“I know, it’s strange.” Another shrug. “I don’t know magic, but I’m sure they’re magical. I thought the one here was unique. Apparently not.”

Rubbing her fingers against the cloud-like filigree of the plates, Rarity thought of Coco. “This one was a gift from my friend. The one I… left behind.” Her attention shifted to Fluttershy. “I saw another one being worn by a buffalo child, although mine didn’t react to that one, so it may have been a cheap knock off.” Not that she would dare say that to Little Strongheart’s face.

Fluttershy paused. “React? What do you mean?”

It was Rarity’s turn to shrug. “They… ‘sparked?’ Something like that. It was almost like they were communicating with one another.”

“Hmm…” Fluttershy rubbed her chin, wings rustling as she peered at the forest canopy. “Yours was sparking when the oryx spotted you. The Scimitar were very eager to see you saved. Maybe there’s a connection.”

Ears folding back, Rarity braced herself for the next question. “Another friend suggested they had a name.” At Fluttershy’s quizzical frown, she whispered, “Elements of Harmony?”

A blink. Fluttershy’s reply was deadpan. “I find that very unlikely.”

“Oh, good.” Rarity let the tension fade from her shoulders. “Me too.”

They resumed walking, Fluttershy slightly in the lead. “Who in Equestria came up with that idea?”

“Oh, just a dragon.”

Fluttershy tripped over nothing, nearly careening into a tree. She whirled around, eye wide as saucers and ears perked. “A d-d-dragon?”





Fluttershy never saw the pounce coming, and let out a groan when Rarity wrapped her in a hug from behind. “Must you?”

Giggling, Rarity nodded against her shoulder. “You’re four years behind, Darling, and I won’t be around for long.”

Batting her away with her wings, Fluttershy stomped for the woods. “I don’t need hugs! Why are you so grabby, anyway?”

Rarity set hands to hips and smirked. “Maybe I miss affection as much as you do.” Her little bubble of joy popped; now that she’d said it, that didn’t seem so far from the mark. When was the last time she really appreciated a pony’s company? Fluttershy technically had done nothing to warrant her unusual behavior, and yet it felt natural to behave so around her.

She snapped her lips back into a smile as her host returned from the edge of the clearing with some fresh sticks for a fire. Fluttershy refused to meet her gaze, cheeks puffed. “I don’t miss affection.”

“Of course you do.” Rarity watched her set up the fire carefully, eager to learn for herself how it was done. “Ponies thrive on affection. I think you’ve been hiding here so long that you’ve forgotten what it is like to have a friend.”

“I don’t want a friend, either.” Fluttershy growled as she worked the sticks into a conical shape, carefully ensuring the smallest bits were at the bottom. “You’re not my friend.”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” Rarity squatted down beside her, observing the action even as she spoke. “Don’t you miss having somepony to talk to? A companion you can—”

“You’re not going to convince me to let you stay here.”

Rarity glared, letting a little of her frustration finally come out. “I am not trying to. You say the word and I’ll leave. But maybe you might consider a friendly visit in the future? Somepony to stop by and say hello. A friendly face to make the oasis feel a little less lonely.”

Fluttershy scoffed. “Could you even find the oasis again?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been taught celestial navigation by a very skilled and experienced explorer,” Rarity shot back. “I might be new to it, but I’m sure I could find my way back here if I wanted to.”

The words seemed to have an impact on the pegasus, who froze with eyes going wide. She swallowed and turned to stare at her. “Y-you… You could? Really?”

With a nod, Rarity placed a hand on her shoulder. “And I would be happy to do so, if you would let me. You don’t have to be—”

Her hand was violently shoved aside. Fluttershy jumped to her hooves and stepped away, shaking her head frantically. “No. No! You can’t. You might lead others here. I don’t want ponies to find me!”

“Fluttershy, Darling, calm down.” Standing as well, Rarity waved her hands in a soothing motion. “I have no intention of telling anypony about this place.”

“But you could be followed! You said ponies were hunting you, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then they might follow you!” Fluttershy’s wings began to flap, taking her off the ground for the first time since Rarity had met her. All she did, however, was fly back and forth in the air as if pacing. “No no no, this won’t do. This won’t do at all! I can’t let you stay, but if you leave and somepony finds the oasis… Oh, no no no…”

Rarity brushed her mane from her face, startled by the wind those large wings kicked up. “Really, you’re getting worked up over nothing. I promise, I won’t tell a soul about this place.”

“It’s not nothing. This place is special, and just you being here runs the risk of ruining it!” The trembling pegasus ran her hands through her mane and flicked her tail wildly. “Why did this have to happen? How do I fix this? I never should have listened to the Scimitar!”

Groaning, Rarity stepped up, caught Fluttershy’s dangling hooves and jerked. The pegasus yelped and dropped with surprising ease, landing in her waiting arms. “W-would you stop with the hugs already?”

“Trust me.” Rarity squeezed all the harder. “You saved my life. Why would I risk ruining yours?”

“I can’t trust you, Rarity.” Fluttershy squirmed and twisted, but didn’t seem to be trying too hard to get away. “No good will come of it.”

“Nonsense. Trust is an important first step in—”

“Trust got Silver and Cardinal killed!”

The shove had more than enough force to break Rarity’s grip. She went sprawling, landing on her flanks hard. Caught in the shadow of those wide, bristling wings, she gaped up at a snarling, teary-eyed pegasus.

“I trusted ponies to keep us safe, and now my family is dead! I am not going to repeat the process with my home!”

“F-Fluttershy, Darling, calm down—”

“Be quiet! I wish the Scimitar had never brought me to you! I wish you’d died out there. But no, I had to do the right thing, the kind thing. And now everything I have left is going to be taken from me and it’s all your fault!” Fluttershy’s fists clenched. She snorted steam and flapped her massive wings, heading for the shack. “I can’t let it happen. I can’t let you go!” She landed and hurried into the small building.

Groaning, Rarity stood back up and brushed herself off. First she wanted her to leave, now she demanded she stay? She understood the mare had issues, but— A loud ‘ker-clack’ filled the air. She looked up and felt her blood run cold.

Fluttershy was aiming the sniper rifle at her head.

Slowly, Rarity raised her hands. “N-now, Fluttershy, let’s not be hasty. Y-you don’t have to do that.”

The answer came through gritted teeth. “Yes, I do.”

Heart pounding, throat dry, Rarity thought frantically for a solution. “I won’t come back, okay? I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

“I can’t risk it.” Fresh tears ran down Fluttershy’s cheeks. The rifle shook in her grip. “I can’t trust you!”

But she hadn’t fired yet. Rarity took in the mare’s shivering form, her wet face, her tense wings. There was so much fear there. And she’d brought that fear here, been the catalyst for it. She thought about her family, her friends. Coco, Spike, Yearling, her parents and sister. Oh, how she longed to see any of them right now. But the only way to do that, she now understood, was to deal with Fluttershy.

Fluttershy. A frightened young mare clinging to safety in the only way she knew how. A mare who would do anything to keep from losing that vice-like grip on the green grasses of Elysium. She’d lost so much already. What had Rarity lost in the grand scheme of things, really? Compared to the fear that held this trembling pony in place, she felt as if her worries were trite.

Could she deal with Fluttershy? Perhaps. She could use her horn to take the rifle away. She could subdue her in some form. She’d been through enough bad situations to understand that she at least stood a chance. And what then? Would she leave this pony here with her fears and doubts, knowing that Fluttershy would spend the rest of her days waiting for the end to come? Or worse, she might be forced to kill her to save herself. Was either option worth her own life in the end?

All that thinking, all that second guessing, and Fluttershy still hadn’t pulled the trigger. Rarity lowered her hands and sighed. Her chest felt so very warm.

“Go ahead.”

Fluttershy’s eyes went wide once more. “W-what?”

Her smile was painful to hold, but Rarity held it regardless. She hoped it was a comforting one. “Do it, Fluttershy. If this will give you comfort, then do it. I said I wouldn’t risk ruining your life, and I meant it.”

The pegasus blinked at her, but then renewed her grip on the rifle. “I will. I’ll do it. It’s for the best.”

“If you really think so, then go ahead.” Closing her eyes, Rarity brought forth a picture of her family. Her father and his stupid hat, her mother and her terrible taste in manestyles. And little Sweetie. She’d been so small when Rarity left. She’d be almost ready for a cutie mark. Her precious little sister… she’d hardly known her, and that thought seemed like the saddest thing ever.

She hoped they would forgive her for this.

Fluttershy sobbed. Rarity felt a tear run down her own cheek. She hoped it would be quick. She thrust her chest out in preparation and grit her teeth, ready for the inevitable.

“I… I can’t…”

Rarity sucked in a sharp breath. Had she imagined that?

“I should. I know I sh-should, but… Damn it, why do you have to take it so… so gracefully?”

At last, Rarity dared to open an eye. Her potential executioner’s arms hung limp, barely holding the rifle in trembling hands. Fluttershy sobbed and rubbed her face with the leading edge of her wing, head bowed.

Realizing she was not about to be shot, Rarity let loose a long exhale. “Thank you, Darling.”

Fluttershy stiffened, moving as if to raise the rifle, but the strength left her before the barrel rose even an inch. “I wish you were anypony else,” she muttered between hiccups. “A bandit. A soldier. An outlaw. Something. But you had to be you, and… and I just can’t do it. It feels too wrong.”

Rarity took a step closer, but stopped moving when Fluttershy backed away. Hands clenching and unclenching, she tried to think of something comforting to say. All she came up with was “I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“You’re doing it again!” Fluttershy spun away, wings spread once more. “Why can’t you make it about you? I almost killed you. You should be thinking about that!”

“But you didn’t.” Rarity took another tentative step. “You chose to be kind. Don’t you think—?”

“No!” The mare shook her head frantically, long mane whipping back and forth. “Be selfish! Tell me how glad you are I didn’t kill you. Show me why it was a mistake.”

“Was it a mistake?” Another step. “Is your isolation so important to you?”

“Yes.” She whirled around and the gun came back up, the end of the barrel inches from Rarity’s chest. Fluttershy met her gaze with fierce, narrowed eyes and lips pulled back in a snarl. “It keeps me safe! Safe from… fr-from the bad ponies who want to take away everything I care about just because they can!”

“Is that what happened, Fluttershy?” Slowly, carefully, Rarity pushed the barrel of the gun aside. “Did the bad ponies take your husband and son away?”

The mare’s face twisted into so many emotions. Rage, confusion, fear, loss, hate, defeat, all made themselves known in a span of but a few seconds. Her lip trembled, her shoulders shook, her eyes shined with a pain as old as it was fresh. Rarity reached up to stroke a wet cheek… and the walls broke.

Fluttershy wailed. She didn’t fight it when Rarity caught her up in a tight embrace, but returned it with breath-stealing force. Her body collapsed like a marionette without strings as she buried her face in Rarity’s chest and sobbed like a newborn foal. Rarity gently lowered to the ground and cradled the inconsolable mare in her arms.

As the weeping pierced her heart, she let out a quiet sigh and rested her cheek on Fluttershy’s head. “I told you you needed a hug.”

She barely noticed the bright glow of her necklace.





Night had fallen, and Fluttershy had cried herself out. She sat opposite Rarity, swaddled in furs and staring listlessly at the fire. Rarity had taken over host duties for the day, and while she doubted her outdoor cooking skills she did the best with what was available. They had been quiet for some time, Rarity sipping her bland soup and waiting for… something. Fluttershy didn’t eat at all, her own bowl lying cold and untouched by her side. The air was filled with the sound of crickets and the occasional owl.

Then, out of nowhere, Fluttershy spoke. “We were on our way to Mooisville. I had a concert scheduled there. We’d been on the road for almost a year, and it was the next-to-last stop of my tour.”

Fluttershy was so quiet she could barely be heard, and Rarity was determined to catch every word. She perked her ears and leaned forward in dreaded anticipation.

“We were on our way back from Las Pegasus, sticking close to the north side of the Dragon’s Teeth. A week out, the bandits struck. It was the Razzle Dazzles, led by the Countess herself.” Fluttershy shivered despite her warm furs. “Half the caravan guards turned tail and ran before the first shot was even fired. The rest didn’t last long. Silver Coin had never fired a gun in his life, but he took one to give me time to grab Cardinal and my rifle and flee into the desert. I c-could have fought, but… but I had to protect my foal.”

She closed her eyes, but no tears were shed. With a shuddering breath, she continued. “I… I watched through the scope. My husband was captured at the end. I thought they’d put him up for ransom, but the Countess…” She flinched as if witnessing the scene with fresh eyes. “At least it was quick. Th-that’s all I can ask for, right?”

She was quiet for a time, lips pursed and throat hitching. Rarity couldn’t speak. She was too busy trying not to imagine the scene.

A long, slow breath later, Fluttershy’s story went on. “I could have shot her then, but I was so scared. I h-held back. I knew they’d come for me, and I had to protect Cardinal. So I ran into the Great Salt Plains. I thought I’d be able to walk around them and get back to one of the little towns.

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I was lost and alone. No food or water. I couldn’t feed my baby because I couldn’t feed myself.” She raised her hands, cupped as if holding something tiny and fragile in them. They trembled in the firelight. She struggled with her words. “I tried. I t-tried so hard. Burning up in the sun, freezing at night, starving. I c-couldn’t. I was so unprepared. I stayed up all night just trying to get something, anything to come out. But I… I couldn’t.”

The tears returned at last as she hugged herself tight. “My little foal. My p-precious songbird. I held him as he… h-he…” She bit her lip so hard Rarity saw blood.

Heart throbbing, Rarity climbed to her hooves and went to the quietly weeping mare’s side. She pulled her close and rocked with her, but didn’t say a word. What did one say to something so terrible?

“I never let him go,” Fluttershy whispered through her weeping. “He wasn’t moving, but I couldn’t let him go. I was his momma. I should have done better. B-but I…” She clung so tight her fingernails bit into flesh, but Rarity made no attempt to push her away. She only held on, watching the flames and listening as the sobs tore her to pieces once more.





Rarity lifted the Cardinal up, startled by how heavy it was. Sitting with it in her lap, she ran her hand along the smooth wooden finish. This was a gun well kept by its owner, the barrel unblemished and the wood polished. How Fluttershy had managed to care for it so well in this wilderness she might never understand. Her eyes drifted to the name roughly carved into the side beneath the scope.

The morning sun was barely visible through the trees. Fluttershy watched her with a weary, heavy-lidded gaze. “I used to fantasize about going back and killing the Countess. I named the gun Cardinal because I imagined my son taking his revenge from the beyond.” She sighed and twined her fingers. “Not a very motherly thing to imagine, I guess.”

“Your anger is perfectly justified.” Rarity offered the weapon to her host. Fluttershy took it with one hand, carrying it with an ease that once again made Rarity wonder about her strength. “I wouldn’t mind doing the deed for you, were I able.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask for that.” Staring at the weapon as if it were frightening in its own right, Fluttershy carefully leaned it against the shack. “I’m really sorry I dumped all of that on you. And almost shot you.”

Rarity turned her attention to the still-smoking ashes of last night’s fire. “It’s alright. You’d been carrying that for four years. If anything, I’m honored you chose to confide in me.”

“I do feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.” Fluttershy returned to her slab and sat heavily, hands clasped between her knees. “I guess I just needed to talk to somepony about it. You’re the first pony to find this place since I arrived, though. I had no idea what to do.” She tilted her head, hiding her face behind her mane. “Just like back then. I never know what to do.”

Rarity smiled. “I don’t think that’s true at all. If you didn’t know what to do, would you have survived on your own for this long?”

Yet the encouragement only earned a deep sigh from the pegasus. “So I can help myself, but not the ponies I love.”

Well, she certainly didn’t take that as intended. Rarity was at a loss. She’d never dealt with something so deeply personal as this before. She wasn’t exactly a bubbling ball of joy herself, all things considered. If only Coco could be here. That mare knew how to be a comfort.

Rarity grimaced at that thought. Wishing Coco was here? How absurd! That would have required her to go through all the same drama Rarity had, which simply would not do. Coco deserved better.

And so did Fluttershy.
 
“Would you like to come with me?”

Up went the head and ears. Fluttershy blinked at her a few times. “You’re leaving?”

She was asking? “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

The pegasus squirmed. Her eyes looked anywhere but at Rarity and her cheeks gained a fresh pink tinge. “I’m permitted to change my mind.”

No matter how long Rarity stared, Fluttershy wouldn’t meet her gaze. At last, she smiled and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Darling. The things I want to do, what I want to be, cannot be achieved here.”

“Like what?” Fluttershy leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “Nopony will find you here. Don’t you want to be safe?”

It was a solid point, but Rarity found herself not even remotely swayed. “I also want to be successful. I want to run my own business, make a name for myself. I can’t do that outside of civilization.”

This earned her a cocked head. Fluttershy pursed her lip as she considered the answer. “That seems self-contradicting. How can you ‘make a name for yourself’ and not be easily found by the ponies who are trying to kill you?”

A finger rose, froze… dropped back down. Indeed, how? The problem had always been an obvious one, but Rarity had never given it a good, hard look until that moment. She hummed and huffed, crossing her arms as she walked mental circles. Maybe if she traveled to a place the Apples would never conceivably go? Overseas, perhaps. Oh, but that would be a frighteningly pricey voyage even her healthy bank account couldn’t afford.

“I don’t know,” she finally admitted, slumping in her seat. “There must be a way. I can’t just give up on a lifelong dream.”

“But if you don’t give up that dream, you’ll be killed before you can ever hope to achieve it.” Fluttershy shuddered and hugged herself tightly. “You should stay where it’s safe. What’s fame and fortune compared to a life?”

The cauldron within Rarity began bubbling once more. She grimaced and sat up straight. “It’s my life, and I am not going to let those ruffians decide how it goes for me. I’ll think of something, even if that something demands a little violence.” Her words caught up with her head and she groaned. “Even if it’s the worst possible thing.”

“So… you’re going to leave me?”

“Or you could come with me.”

Fluttershy’s face fell, her wings slumping so the tips of her primaries dragged in the sandy earth. “I can’t. I lived out there once, and it ended so horribly. If I left, it would just be more of the same.”

“You don’t know that.” Rarity flashed her most confident smile. “I’ll be with you. We can take on the world together, you and me. It won’t be the same.”

This, apparently, was the wrong thing to say. Fluttershy’s eyes narrowed and she set her jaw. “You say that now, but you’re a wanted mare. I go with you, and one day your luck runs out and I’m all alone, with my heart shattered, again.”

“That won’t—”

“Don’t be naïve.” She stood tall and glared. “Do you think Silver thought he’d ever get his head blown off by the Countess?”

The words cracked like whips and left Rarity speechless. She tried to think of a retort, a soothing response, but Fluttershy’s bared teeth denied her efforts. So she just sat there, staring up at the mare in a hunched pose.

Fluttershy snorted and turned away. “If you want to leave, go ahead. But I won’t be following you, and I won’t expect to see you again. You’ll die before that happens.” She stomped off, making for the path by the creek.

“Fluttershy, wait!” Rarity leapt to her hooves and gave chase. The pegasus didn’t respond, but stopped when Rarity caught her arm. “Darling, please. I’m in no hurry to go, and…”

Fluttershy turned her fiery eyes upon her. “And?”

Fighting back a flinch, Rarity regained her smile. “And if it’s alright by you, I would love to come and visit in the future.”

Fluttershy opened her mouth, but no words came out. She snorted. Licked her lips. Rubbed her hands together. “You… You promise not to let anypony follow you here? Really promise?”

With a hand over her heart, Rarity nodded. “On my life.”

Cyan eyes widened. Fluttershy took a slow step back, gaze locked with Rarity’s. She seemed to go deathly still. It was hard to tell if she was even breathing. And the entire time, Rarity maintained her smile.

“I’ll think about it.” With a flap of wings, Fluttershy disappeared over the treetops.

Rarity watched her go, hands on her hips. Something about the entire encounter left her feeling… good. Not unlike how she’d felt when she’d offered Coco the chance to live with her. That had to have been over a year ago by this point. Absent-minded, she rubbed her necklace and went back to the shack, prepared to wait for the young mare’s return.





“Are you sure you want to go?”

Rarity shifted her new hide backpack into a more comfortable position. “I’ve been here over a week. Yes, I certainly think it’s time. Any longer and I may get too attached to this place.” Her eyes roamed the mix of sand dunes and salt flats that stretched to the horizon. The desolation put a squeeze on her confidence, but she grimaced and reminded herself that she had better things to do than lounge around an oasis all her life. “I need to go.”

Her new friend let out a faint whimper. “I still don’t see what’s wrong with this place.”

Rarity turned back to her. “It’s not the oasis, it’s me. My future and this place just don’t work together.”

“And if your ‘future’ is death?”

Rarity booped Fluttershy’s nose with a smirk. “I told you, none of that negativity. I want this departure to be a happy one. This isn’t goodbye, only… à bientôt.”

Her hand was batted away, but gently. Fluttershy wriggled her muzzle, eyes crossed, then regained her hard gaze. “If you survive out there…” The harshness faded as quick as it had come. She averted her gaze and went back to rubbing her palms together, wings fidgeting. “You’ll come back, right? To visit?”

“Of course.” Rarity caught her hands with one of her own, which prompted the mare to look at her once more. “What kind of friend would I be otherwise?”

“R-right. And nopony will follow you.” It may have been an assertion, but it sounded as if she were trying to convince herself of the truth of the statement. “It’s… It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

“Perfectly so.” Rarity paused to check Silver Lining’s current cylinder was loaded, glad she hadn’t lost her ammo bag in the sandstorm, then patted the Ruby Heart beneath her vest. “And I’m well protected, so don’t you worry about me. You’ve given me more than enough to make it back to civilization, of that I am sure.”

“Okay.” More fidgeting. More averted eyes. Fluttershy licked her lips as a blush as bright as the sun lit her face. “If you don’t mind, since you’re gonna be gone for a while… possibly forever…” She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes tightly. “M-maybe you could give me another—”

Rarity caught her up in a firm hug, well aware of her own broad grin. “You didn’t even have to ask.”

Slowly, shakily, Fluttershy reached up to return the motion. She rested her cheek on Rarity’s shoulder and took slow, deep breaths.

“It’ll be alright, Darling,” Rarity whispered in her ear. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I hope so.” The pegasus’s hold robbed her of breath. “I really do. I didn’t realize how much I missed having a friend.”

They held one another for a long time, but Rarity finally broke away. She rubbed the moisture from Fluttershy’s eyes and gave her one last encouraging smile. “Well, it’s time to go. Do think about what we’ve talked about. I think that, if you would just give civilization a chance, you may wonder why you ever chose to spurn it.”

“I…” Fluttershy pursed her lips, stood a little straighter, then exhaled slowly. “I’ll think about it, but I can’t promise any more than that.”

“It’ll do. Well…” Hand on her hips, Rarity turned from the oasis for the last time. “À bientôt.”

She marched into the hot yellow sands. This time, she was prepared for whatever they had to offer her.
> Episode 10: Arch Nemesis
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


82nd of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


Rarity had neglected one minor fact when she left Elysium Oasis: she’d lost all her navigational tools in the sandstorm. This brought a bout of panic until she remembered that the Dragon’s Teeth had to be to the south, and determining the cartesian coordinates was as easy as checking the position of the sun and moon.

She also remembered her last calculation before she’d lost everything belonging to herself and Yearling, and was thoroughly pleased when she saw the mountains in the distance after a journey of almost three weeks. Would Yearling have been proud?

You really mustn’t think of her in the past tense, Rarity. Yearling had to be alive. It was against all odds, but Rarity forced herself to believe it. After all, if an amateur like her could get out of the Great Salt Plains safe and sound, surely an expert explorer could too.

Seeing the Dragon’s Teeth was not the same as reaching them. The sand seemed endless even when the end was clearly in sight. She marched for another three days, the jagged slopes growing taller and taller on the horizon. Every day, she gave thanks to the Sisters for introducing her to Fluttershy. Without that pegasus’s invaluable assistance in procuring supplies she’d have surely been stuck at the oasis forever. She had a custom-made bag, a fur-and-hide sleeping roll (which took a lot of getting used to in the first week of travel seeing as it lacked her last one’s lightweight enchantment), and still two weeks’ worth of food and water. 

Good food, she reminded herself while chewing on a slice of melon. She doubly thanked the discoverer of preservation enchantments. It was basically a modified freezing spell, and while Rarity had never tried it before Elysium, she’d seen it enough times on the road already to be able to replicate it easily. It helped that it kept the melon’s pulpy insides nice and chilly, a distinct relief in the endless heat of the desert.

She’d had to teach herself a basic fire spell in order to cook anything, a process that took almost a full week, and then she was limited to levitating the food in question over the flame she constantly kept going in the absence of burnable materials. It served decently enough, and gave her some better control over her magic, but she had no intention of doing it beyond this little trip. Too tiring.

It was afternoon of the fourth day since she’d spotted the mountains. Rarity was just packing up from her midday break, a true necessity if one wanted to avoid heatstroke, when she noticed something rising in the distance. It took some time for her to realize it was smoke. The sight filled her with curiosity. Perhaps it was a trade caravan. A fortuitous discovery, for certain. She had no idea where she was, at least in terms of along the Dragon’s Teeth, and it would be good to know how far away Rockstead was.

Yes, Rockstead. She’d concluded some time ago that Las Pegasus was no longer an option. Anypony who might have been following her trail would assume she was there now, and would likely be well on their way to the frontier town. After being gone in the desert for almost half the Falling Heat season without any way for somepony to know it, she could easily lose her trackers for a while by going back the way she came.

Where to go from there, however, was a mystery.

But where there was smoke, there were probably ponies, and Rarity would very much like to meet a pony or two. After weeks of traveling solo through such abysmal terrain, meeting anypony would be a delight. This in mind, she changed her course due southeast, straight for the dark column. The idea of making new friends almost made her giddy.

Her high spirits made the rest of the day an easy one, and by nightfall the burning sand and salt finally receded in favor of hard rock. It was a moonless night as she set up her bedroll among the foothills, her eyes ever searching the southeast. The smoke blotted out the stars, keeping hope alive that she might see a friendly face soon. Or if not friendly, at least one kind enough to not turn her away. She went to sleep thinking of Yearling and hoping they had half her caliber.

Then morning came, and with it a fresh unease. When the doldrums of sleep faded enough for her to crawl like the undead from her bedroll, she found that the smoke remained to stain the early morning light. Right where it had been yesterday.

It finally dawned upon her how strange this was.

If they were traders, why hadn’t they moved on? Could they have merely left the fire behind, still blazing? It had lessened in severity, suggesting it was no longer being tended to. But, as a traveler herself, Rarity had come to learn that such was not the practice of ponies on the go. Burnable materials were precious out here. The ponies would have doused the flames and gathered what remained for use later. Maybe these ponies were inexperienced? No, if they were in a convoy, they’d have at least one EverFlame Log. Even amateurs wouldn’t part with one of those.

Rarity continued her journey, but with every step her enthusiasm waned. The ponies wouldn’t be there, surely. They must have abandoned the fire, it was the only explanation that made sense. And with no way to determine which way they’d gone, the one thing Rarity could be confident in was that she’d not get a chance to meet them. It had been silly of her, getting her hopes up like that.

She resigned herself to being alone for a while longer. She’d run into a town before her supplies ran out, so there was no threat.

If only she didn’t have to be alone. As boring as it had been, she missed riding on Little Lightning, holding on to Yearling as they traversed the Great Salt Plains together. Or the pleasant talks she’d shared with Fluttershy once the young mare had finally warmed up to her, like the homemade tea brew they’d shared over a small fire. She still had a few pouches of the stuff. Best not forget the charming Spike, or the excitable Troublemaker, or the cranky Cranky. Coco’s endearingly soft voice would be so nice right about now.

“Oh, Mother Night, I’m getting lonely,” Rarity muttered, shielding her eyes against the sun. She stood atop a hill, gazing east at the column of smoke. Except now it was several columns, all thin and fading swiftly into the warming morning sky. She guessed she had another hour before she reached the site.

Why was she still headed for it, anyway? Perhaps it simply served as a checkpoint, a visible target to be reached. Or maybe, deep down, Rarity held a faint hope that somepony would still be there.

The closer she came, the greater became the mystery. Why multiple columns of smoke? Multiple fires, certainly, but what would warrant such a thing? She knew from experience that large wagon trains required several cooking fires, but she was counting at least a dozen smoke clouds. That would have to have been a significant caravan to require so many. Perhaps military in nature?

What would a small army be doing way out here? Who would it belong to? The nearest major city state with an armed force would be Hoofington, but that was at least a long season’s march away from here, and that assumed a direct path over the Great Salt Plains. Cloudsdale might be an alternative, but Rarity found it unlikely. Everypony knew the cloud city moved with the seasons for resource gathering purposes, but even in the cooler seasons it wouldn’t be found in this territory. No, this time of year it’d be over the Sunpeaks in the far northwest, trading for minerals.

So no, she could definitely rule out military force. What did that leave?

Rarity, now perhaps only a couple hilltops away from the site, froze as only one answer came to her: a raid. The caravan could have been attacked by bandits. Would she get there just to find smoldering wagons and dead bodies, all looted by heartless villains? The bandits might still be there. And if not…

Her hand dropped to Silver Lining, swiftly unbuttoning the safety strap. Her other reached up to touch Ruby Heart through her vest. Its weighty presence offered only a little comfort, but it was a comfort she welcomed. When she moved again, Rarity did so with a greater eye for her surroundings. If a posse of ne’er-do-wells appeared over the next hill, she’d be ready for them. Of course, it’d be better to avoid a confrontation, but she doubted she’d have such good fortune. She never did.

To think, this time yesterday she’d been so happy to see that smoke. Now the sight filled her with dread. But she kept going; at least if she found the place devoid of ruffians she could be assured they wouldn’t come back. Probably. But in the meantime, they could be anywhere, and so caution was the order of the day.

The last few hills passed slowly, Rarity not daring to move with any real speed lest she draw attention from unnoticed eyes. At last, she crested a hill and came upon the source of the smoke.

It was everything she feared.

A dozen heaps, the torched remains of wagons, smoldered in a semicircle at the foot of the hill. Rarity understood the purpose of circling the wagons, but it appeared these ponies only managed half that. Along with the smoking wrecks were two other piles, though what they consisted of Rarity couldn’t tell at this distance. At least there weren’t any bodies. Perhaps they’d been the victims of griffon slavers. The memory of how close she came to such a fate sent a tremble down her spine.

The place appeared to be abandoned. Breathing a sigh of relief, she descended the hill, confident that the responsible party would be long gone by now. The semicircle of wagons opened to the north. Did that mean the raiders had come from the south, and the wagons had been made into a barrier of sorts? She guessed that was how such things worked. It wouldn’t have been effective against a highly mobile attacker, though, so why not form the full circle?

She approached the first wagon. It had collapsed, three wheels akimbo and one having rolled several feet away. The main body of the wagon was mostly intact, but the center had been burned out such that it appeared more like four walls with a conspicuously missing floor. Bits of burned fabric around blackened metal supports clarified that it had been a covered wagon, and the ruined remains of boxes indicated it had probably been used for cargo. It took only a glance through the opening in the bottom to see that the axles had been destroyed.

Rarity found the entire thing mystifying, and promptly went to the next wagon to check her suspicions. This one had more severe damage, at least half of it burned to ash and the other half laying on its side. Even so, Rarity found what she was looking for: more cargo. Perhaps because of how some parts fell away from the blaze, some of it even remained intact.

It consisted mostly of dried up apples. There were so many, in fact, that Rarity couldn’t help wondering if this caravan belonged to the Apple Family. The idea brought out the tiniest mote of pleasure at the family’s misfortune, which promptly turned to guilt. Why should she wish such pain upon a group of hired hooves that had done her no wrong?

They were probably slaves now, on their way to the Apex Roost’s… wherever. She’d never learned where they took their slaves. Still, the fact that the raiders had left something so valuable as produce behind could only mean that they hadn’t been there for the goods. Not bandits, then. Slavers were the only other possibility.

And now Rarity faced a moral conundrum. If the attackers hadn’t bothered to take anything but the traders themselves, that meant that there may be some non-perishable items around. Canned foods, perhaps, or maybe even some ammunition. Given the fires, that seemed a long shot, but any opportunity to load Ruby Heart with less expensive bullets would be welcome.

Was it okay to take from these wagons? Was it okay to even search them? This was still Apple Family property… or at least, property of somepony, and Rarity wasn’t reduced to thieving, not yet. Besides, it felt almost like grave-robbing. No. The benefits just weren’t good enough to warrant soiling her good name like that, even if there’d be nopony around to notice.

Decision made, Rarity turned from the wagons to take a look at the two smoking piles. What was this, then? Had the griffons decided to burn what supplies they couldn’t take with them? She couldn’t imagine what purpose that would serve. She approached the nearest one, hoping for some clues. The contents were strange. They didn’t look like wood for boxes, nor did she see anything that might be produce or maintenance supplies. Just a lot of lumps piled on top of one another, giving off a foul stench she’d never smelled before.

Really, the smell was hideous. Enough to make her stomach roil. And the shapes were… almost… like…

Now a mere five feet away, awareness came upon her. Her eyes settled upon one of the lumps. Long, heavy-looking, charred and wrinkled, radiating the foulest odor imaginable. With four long pieces attached, and… colors. So many colors. Each lump, a different color beneath the black. And there, that was hair and those were hooves, and over there, fingers, and…

Bodies. Pony bodies. An entire pile of burning corpses.

Rarity staggered back, one hand on her necklace and the other covering her lips. “Oh… Oh, Luna…” She turned away, stumbled, fell to her hands and knees. Deep breaths fought against the rebellion of her stomach. Who would do such a thing?

It couldn’t be slavers. Slavers didn’t want to kill, they wanted to capture. Bandits? This seemed extreme even for them. ‘S-Sisters, preserve me…”

It took time, but gradually the churning of her stomach settled. The ever-present aroma of burning flesh made that a hard fight to win, and Rarity never fully won it, but she at least managed to stand up. A cautious, split-second glance at the other pile told her everything she needed to know. She didn’t want to guess at how many ponies had died here.

On wobbly legs, she walked away from the burning piles of equine flesh to one of the less damaged wagons. Partnered with her unparalleled revulsion was a powerful need to know, to understand. Something had done this. Something had done this on purpose. She had to know why, and she had to offer a warning. Spread the news. This kind of evil had to be stopped.

As her quaking dropped to a mere trembling, she leaned against the largely intact wagon, its covering burnt away but its body merely charred. Her brain sprinted through possibilities once more. Bandits would have taken the supplies. Slavers wouldn’t have killed so many ponies. It might have been an Apple Family convoy, in which case maybe a rival Family decided to strike the caravan. Was the fire intended to burn evidence? If so, it was an amateur job considering so much material remained behind.

Nothing made sense.

Nothing.

A light wind kicked up, bringing the foul stench of the body piles to her. Her stomach turned traitor once more. She bent over, hands to her knees, and closed her eyes. It’s alright, Rarity. The perpetrators are long gone. Just walk away, report this to the proper authorities in Rockstead. Maybe they can do something.

As her insides settled, she dared to open her eyes once more. She paused upon realizing that something was beneath her boot. Using her magic, she lifted it up to get a closer look.

A feather. Orange, not quite yellow. Too small to belong to a griffon. Rarity hadn’t met many pegasi in her life, but she’d seen enough to know for sure that this feather belonged to one. Griffon feathers were coarse things, and this appeared delicate. Her eyes went, briefly, to the burning piles. Had there been any pegasi in there? She had no way to know, and she certainly wasn’t about to go digging through the cooked remains to find out.

Cooked. Had she really just thought of them in such a way? Hideous.

As farfetched as it was, Rarity couldn’t help but hope that this feather meant somepony had gotten out alive. As for herself, there was nothing to keep her here. Even acknowledging the probable safety of remaining where the villains responsible for this travesty wouldn’t go, Rarity couldn’t justify staying in this place for a minute longer. Dropping the feather, she adjusted her backpack and started around the wagon. Her eyes went up to check her direction.

A bright light, like the sun reflecting off metal. Five figures on sand lizards, approaching at a trot. The glint again… and it was all Rarity needed as warning.

She dove back behind the wagon as the shot rang out. No pain, no impact. Thanking Luna’s stars for the mercy, she scrambled to a crouch behind the wagon and whipped out Silver Lining and Ruby Heart without so much as a thought. Had the villains come back? They’d shot at her without any provocation at all!

Then again, she was standing amongst the evidence. No witnesses?

“For fuck’s sake, hold your fire!”

Her ears twitched. That voice. A mare’s voice. Where had she heard it before? She wasn’t sure, but it sent a twisting dread through her insides.

The mare called again, her voice commanding. “Rarity Belle! Come out here and take what’s coming to you!”

They knew her? She cursed under her breath.

Bounty hunters.

She turned her head towards the corner. “I have no intention of being shot for acting in self-defense.”

“Well, that’s just too bad, ain’t it?” Some of the hunters chuckled at that, the heathens. “Look, you show that pretty face that lured my Brady to his death, and I’ll make it quick.”

Brady? She must mean Braeburn. And if she’s speaking of him so familiarly…

She thought back to that frantic first night, riding atop Piecazzo with three angry Gang members at her back. One of those ponies had survived, right? Yes… the mare. Pink coat. Two-toned red mane. She’d never learned her name, but the voice was unmistakable now.

Rarity could feel the little pony in the back of her head burning like an ember. “You! I spared your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“He~ey, she remembers me! The name’s Cayenne, bitch, and it was your stupid mistake not doing me in when you had the chance.”

Not bounty hunters, then. Members of the Bad Apple Gang itself. Did that make it worse? “Look, I’m sorry about Braeburn, okay? What was I supposed to do, let him rape me?”

“Yeah, that would have been a good plan.”

Rarity choked on her fury, stunned by the serious, no-nonsense tone of the response.

While she was recovering, one of the other gang members spoke up. “Uh, Cayenne? Boss? We really wanna fight the Bulletproof Heart? I mean, look at what she did to our boys.”

Boys? Rarity felt her heart sink somewhere into her boots. This really had been an Apple-owned caravan! And they thought she’d done this? A quick glance at the smoldering pile of equine corpses made her stomach lurch.

“Don’t give me that,” Cayenne snapped. “The Bulletproof Heart’s some stupid rumor she cooked up to scare us off.”

“But, boss, look at our hunting party!”

Cayenne shouted at the stallion. “I am looking! We gotta take this bitch down before she murders anymore of the Gang. What the hay do you think Blackjack and Velvet will do to us if they find out we didn’t try to take her out?”

Knowing it was pointless, Rarity shouted from around the wagon once more. “Wait, I didn’t do this!”

“Likely story, ‘Bulletproof Heart,’” Cayenne snapped with no small amount of sarcasm. “Bricks, pop her.”

“One pretty popped pony coming right up!”

Popped pony? Oh, that didn’t sound good at all. Rarity braced, her grip on her guns tightening, and waited for them to start shooting. And yet no shots came. In fact, there wasn’t any sound at all. What were they…?

Something ‘thunked’ to the ground nearby. She turned and sucked in a sharp breath at a stick of dynamite not a foot away, fuse lit. She braced for the explosion—

—then fought back a laugh. And here I thought I was the amateur. She put her boot atop the overlong fuse, snuffing it, then used her magic to pull it out of the stick altogether. She levitated the tube in front of her muzzle and smirked. Well, far be it for me not to capitalize on their generosity.

“Uh, Bricks?” one of the other hunters said. “It ain’t blowin.”

“I can see it ain’t blowin, dumbass.”

Cayenne’s snarl must have been pretty loud if Rarity could hear it from behind the wagon. “You made the fuse too long. Do it again.”

“But if I make it any shorter, I might blow me up too!”

“Do it or I’ll—”

“Uh, Boss?”

Four ponies turned to the one, then all looked to the wagons. Rarity stood, Silver Lining aimed at the ready as she sent the dynamite flying at them with her magic. Two weeks of practice with Yearling came to her aid as she watched for the stick’s apex and planned her shot.

“Shit!” Cayenne cracked her reins, eyes popping wide as she realized too late what was coming. “Scatter!”

As the stick fell, Rarity had a moment of clarity. She knew, with sudden horror, exactly what she was about to do.

Can I?

There’s five of them. You can’t win those odds.

And it’s me or them.

She pulled the trigger, even as she reflected on how horrifyingly simple it could be to justify something like this. The bullet struck true, and the stick of dynamite unleashed its explosive force right in the face of the stallion holding a second stick.

Apparently he’d had other sticks of dynamite on him, because the resulting blast was far more than what Rarity had anticipated. Engulfing the three ponies and their mounts in the middle of the formation, it knocked her off her hooves and threw her to the ground. It hurt, but it hardly mattered as much as the bomber’s shocked expression burned into her retinas an instant before the blast. She rolled to a sitting position and looked to see that he and his sand lizard were nothing more than a crater. The stallions on either side of him…

Her breakfast didn’t taste half as good coming out as it had going in. She was just finishing up – hopefully – when a shriek pierced her ears. Knowing she had seconds at best, she snatched her guns from where they had fallen and ran for a different wagon, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she went. It dawned upon her that she wasn’t panicking. Or rather, she was, but it felt distant, like the shadow of panic. Not that such a description made any sense to her, but it still seemed appropriate.

No time to count blessings. She slid behind the wagon, sand and dust kicking up in her wake as bullets flew over her head. Twisting onto her stomach, she fired twice with Silver Lining, prompting a dismounted Cayenne to jump behind a wagon. She pressed her ears against her head when the mare shrieked once more.

“I’m gonna shoot your face off, you ugly whorse!”

Where was the other one? If Cayenne survived that blast then he probably did, too. Getting into a crouch and only slightly flinching at the gunshots cutting into the wagon, Rarity went to the opposite corner and looked around it. She was right on time to see the last remaining stallion appear around the far side of the wagon, still on his sand lizard. The poor beast’s scales were black and sizzling on one side, and its rider didn’t look much better.

But he was still alive and very much angry. He spotted Rarity and took aim with a short-barreled rifle, prompting her to duck back behind the wagon or lose her head.

“We got the bitch cornered, Boss!”

“Oh, no,” Rarity snarled. She whipped around the wagon corner towards Cayenne, firing another two rounds with Silver Lining, then swung back to fire with Ruby Heart at the stallion. Cayenne ducked back behind her own cover. The stallion wasn’t so lucky, the shot piercing the scales of his lizard and making the creature rear back and hiss in pain. Rarity switched Silver Lining’s cylinder while he was busy trying to regain control.

Her blood pounded in her ears and she frantically thought for a solution. It was, in truth, a fairly simple thing: if she could take out either one, her odds would be vastly improved. Cayenne was playing it smart, sticking to cover. Her companion? Easy prey. She raised both guns to the level of her face and grimaced at her own foul thought. Then she was out of cover, Silver Lining and Ruby Heart letting lose their deadly firepower.

He never stood a chance. A hit to his shoulder made him turn in his saddle, and then three holes bloomed red in his exposed side. His cry turned to a gurgle before he slid off his mount like a sack of apples. He hit the dirt and curled into a ball, out of the fight, and his lizard bolted to the hills. Rarity was tempted to hurry over and… and what? Apologize? For defending herself?

For killing again.

The thought made her pause, but only for an instant. She didn’t have time for more. Cayenne needed to be dealt with.

Dear Luna, that sounded cold. Ignoring the thought as best she could, Rarity snapped a fresh cylinder into Silver Lining. She hurried to the opposite side of the wagon from where she’d been waiting before. If she could catch Cayenne moving from her old location…

Her opponent had had the same idea, appearing at a sprint from behind the next wagon. The two slid to a stop some forty paces apart from one another, both in the open and gaping. Clearly, Cayenne hadn’t expected this encounter either.

Recovering quickly, they glared at one another. The world seemed to grow quiet as they sized one another up, weapons at their sides and aimed at the ground. Cayenne could have been pretty, Rarity realized, were she not coated in dirt and sweat, and paid any attention at all to her mane. Despite being an earth pony she wasn’t very big, even by unicorn standards, but she had more muscle than Rarity could boast.

“I thought you were supposed to be a seamstress,” Cayenne said, her words calm and focused. “When did you get so good?”

“I’ve had lots of practice since we last met,” Rarity admitted. She kept her arms loose, just like Cranky had taught her. It wasn’t so easy when she knew her life was on the line. “Seemed prudent. Lots of creatures want me dead for some reason.”

Her foe smirked, but it was a dark thing. “You have made a name for yourself, haven’t you, Bulletproof Heart?”

She gritted her teeth at the name, but fought down her anger. Anger wouldn’t get her through this. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because Braeburn was my friend.” Cayenne’s grip on her revolver visibly tightened. “You killed him. With his own gun.”

Rarity snorted. “And that justifies his attempt to rape and murder my friend and I?”

The dark smile slipped back onto Cayenne’s face. “Life’s not fair, Princess. In this world, you take what you want and don’t give a fuck about who it hurts.”

What a hideous viewpoint. Rarity might have shivered were she not so intensely focused on her enemy. “So there’s no way for me to convince you to walk away.”

“Seems we’ve figured one another out, Princess.”

“No,” Rarity said quietly. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand you.”

And so they stood, weapons lowered, bodies at the ready. Celestia’s sun pressed upon their shoulders. Rarity felt sweat beading on her brow, but didn’t dare move to wipe it away. A warm wind blew, sending smoke and the scent of burning flesh into them. Still, neither moved. It dawned upon Rarity that she’d just entered a traditional duel, something she never imagined she’d have to take part of. Oh, how life toys with us.

Her hand itched. She ignored it. She could feel that bubbling panic just beneath the surface, a tiny Rarity running circles and screaming about how she was about to die. That voice seemed so far away, blocked and quieted by the steady warmth in her chest. For all her worry, Rarity felt so little actual fear. Only anticipation. Readiness. A tension that fought against everything she’d trained herself to do with Yearling’s and Cranky’s help.

But the warmth was there. It kept everything in check. She could keep her focus on the villain before her, ignore the itching and the heat and the sweat rolling down her cheek. Focus. Breathe. Stay loose.

Focus.

Ruby Heart moved first. Silver Lining was faster. Cayenne’s revolver moved so quickly, and yet so slowly. Two shots rang out.

Cayenne twisted as her shoulder took a hit. Her revolver came up, the occupied hand reaching instinctively for the wound. The motion was likely the only thing that saved her life, for the Ruby Heart’s powerful ruby-tipped bullet struck Cayenne’s revolver instead of her chest. The weapon jerked from the blow, but still she tried to fire at Rarity. She was rewarded with the gun exploding.

With a pained cry, she dropped the ruined weapon and cradled her burnt hand. Tears in her eyes, she took a few seemingly random steps while cursing. Rarity didn’t move, and when the mare finally opened her eyes she found Silver Lining and Ruby Heart still aimed at her. Cayenne let out a frustrated scream before stomping in small circles.

“No! No, no, no! How could I lose to a… to a fucking prissy pony princess?” She tried to fling her arms around, only to cry out and grab her bleeding shoulder. Unbalanced, she stumbled to her knees and moaned. “This can’t be happening.”

The fight was over, and with it went Rarity’s focus. Her hands shook violently. Legs now made of rubber, she collapsed to a sitting position and let the trembles take over. “Luna’s Stars, I n-never want to do that again.”

Cayenne glared at her, speaking between hissing breaths. “What are you complaining for? You won.”

Holstering Ruby Heart, Rarity used her vibrating hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. “I am not a killer. I’m not meant for this kind of life.”

“Could have fooled me.” Cayenne chuckled bitterly. Her eyes went to her ruined weapon and she sobered. “His gun. You wrecked his gun.”

His gun? Rarity glanced at the mangled revolver. Was that the one Braeburn had used back in Spurhoof? Then it was also the one she’d killed him with. Perhaps Cayenne had been looking for some sort of irony in her victory. “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” Cayenne snarled, but it was cut short by a pained wince. She held her injured hand to her shoulder, but then looked at Rarity. Really looked, with brow furrowed and lips pursed. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

Though her legs hardly seemed able, Rarity managed to stand up once more. “Yes, I do. Not a day goes by I don’t wish I hadn’t killed your friends.”

“And yet you’re gonna kill me.”

Rarity blinked. Cayenne met her eyes with a resigned but defiant stare. “Is that what you think?”

“Yeah.” Groaning, the mare turned so she was properly facing Rarity, though she remained kneeling. “These wounds ain’t fatal. You let me live? I’m gonna come after you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I promise.”

They stared at one another for a long time. Silver Lining felt hot in Rarity’s hand, hotter than even the sun pressing down on her head. Logic told her in plain, simple Equish that she should do as Cayenne said. It wouldn’t be hard. Just point and pull the trigger. One shot was all it would take, and this headache would be gone.

But the little pony in the back of her mind took all those arguments in and countered with one simple, patient declaration.

I am not a killer.

“I believe you.” Rarity holstered Silver Lining and turned west. She took out a waterskin and drank as she began to walk away.

Five steps in, she finally heard Cayenne’s shout. “You think this means I owe you? You’re an idiot. You hear me? An idiot! You’re my enemy as long as we’re both breathing. I’ll hunt you down and pump you full of so much lead they’ll be able to smelt you down and make bullets out of you! You’re gonna eat dirt, Bulletproof! Remember that! I’m gonna kill you dead!”

Rarity let the screams fade to background noise. She rubbed at her necklace, noting its pleasant glow and the warmth it provided. She knew Cayenne would honor her words. Someday, they’d meet again, and they’d probably start shooting in an instant. One for revenge, the other for survival. Rarity knew she might not survive the next encounter.

Despite that, she smiled.

I am not a killer.





Going west had been a ruse. An obvious one, true, but perhaps Cayenne would buy it. Besides, the mare had a hole in her left shoulder and serious burns on her right hand. Rarity doubted she’d be a threat, at least for the next few weeks. Once out of sight, she’d walked a circle to avoid the smouldering caravan and resumed her march east. She didn’t see Cayenne again, which was an immense relief.

Four more ponies had died. It was justified, of course, but that didn’t make the fact sit well in her stomach. She’d been so pleased with her innovation regarding the dynamite at the time, but now she felt nothing but revulsion. After all, it had been an innovative way to kill more ponies. Not much to be proud of there.

But that wasn’t the worst of it, not by a long shot. No, the worst part in all of this was that it had been so much easier. She remembered her fear when she’d had Braeburn’s gun. Back then, the very idea of killing another pony left her petrified. But when Cayenne and her posse showed up? Rarity had barely hesitated. No matter how often she told herself she wasn’t a killer, she couldn’t help but fear that she was becoming one.

The Bulletproof Heart. Even her enemies were calling her that. And since she’d left Cayenne alive, the stories would spread, this time with a legitimate witness. And they thought she’d slaughtered that caravan! Could a single pony even do that?

Rarity was coming to hate that title. What if the Bulletproof Heart proved to be some sort of hideous alter ego? The ‘evil’ Rarity. When ponies said the name, would they associate it with corruption, violence and cruelty? That wasn’t her by any stretch of the imagination, but after what Cayenne just accused her of…

Rarity was supposed to be sophisticated. Intellectual. Refined. Those were the things she wanted associated with her name, not an executioner of caravans. She could just feel the title like a slick of oil upon her body, ruining her reputation and bringing fear wherever it went. Rarity wasn’t meant to be feared! Respected, okay, but not feared.

She entered Rockstead in a miserable state a week-and-a-half later, just after dawn. Her first act was to visit the Howler’s Bank and withdraw from her account. She’d lost all her bits and gems in the sandstorm, and wouldn’t be able to purchase temporary lodgings otherwise. She also made sure to send Spike a message apologizing for not coming to visit him when she had the chance. She made no attempt to explain her situation, merely informing him that she’d have been a terrible guest at this time.

She didn’t wait up for a response. The guilt was too much at the moment.

But while going to visit Spike had been out of the question, Rarity still felt the need to see a friendly face. So it was she found herself before a familiar door at a familiar geode farm, ashamed and tired and hoping they wouldn’t mind accommodating her again. She knocked quietly, not wanting to catch the attention of any of the field workers, and waited.

It took another two knocks to get an answer, but at last the door opened a crack to reveal half a face, the rest hiding behind a straight mane. Upon seeing Rarity, Marble Pie raised her head and allowed a small smile to show. “M-Miss Belle?”

Rarity tried to smile. By the way Marble’s faded, she probably hadn’t done a good job. “Good morning, Darling. I was hoping I might have the benefit of your hospitality again, if that’s alright?”

The smile came back, albeit smaller this time. Marble nodded with a barely discernible “Mmm.” She opened the door fully and stepped back, inviting Rarity in with a wave of her hand.

Trodding into the room on leaden legs, Rarity managed a better smile for her this time. “Thank you, Miss Pie, most sincerely. Fifteen bits a night, right?” She levitated the exact coinage from a pocket of her near-empty backpack.

Marble stared at the bits as if not sure what they were for. After some consideration, she reached up and plucked the ten-bit coin out of the air.

Blinking, Rarity waited for her to take the rest. When the young mare only closed the door and proceeded inside, she grabbed the coins herself. “I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. You only took the ten. Was I mistaken?” She was sure she wasn’t.

Her host shook her head, a motion so slight she almost missed it. “We didn’t trust you last time.”

Trust? She looked at the bits in her hand. So they charged her higher because she’d been a stranger? But now… Marble trusted her. Not Maud, she wasn’t here to get a say apparently, but Marble. The thought brought a fresh warmth and a genuine smile for the first time in what seemed like ages.

Walking over to Marble, she caught her hand and put the remaining bits into it, keeping their eyes locked the entire time. “I appreciate your trust.”

Marble looked as if she wanted to object. Perhaps her shyness prevented it, but for whatever reason she eventually pocketed the coins. “You d-didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to.” Glancing away, Rarity added, “Consider it part of my apology for never getting a chance to write to you these last few weeks. I did promise, after all.”

Marble cocked her head, ears perking. It seemed as if she had no idea of the promise Rarity had made to Maud. Was it supposed to be some sort of surprise? Regardless, Marble had nothing to add to the topic.

Perhaps it was best not to press the matter. Instead, she took a look at the familiar dining room and kitchen. “Where’s Maud? In town?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Ah, that soft little voice. Rarity found it curiously endearing. “I guess she’ll be back later today?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Nodding, she turned back to Marble. “Very well, I’ll greet her when she comes in. If it’s alright by you, I want nothing more than to spend the rest of the day off my hooves. You wouldn’t believe the things I had to put up with in the last half-season.” She pinched at her shirt, grimacing at the stains of sweat and other things she probably didn’t want to think about. “Or the things I got near. I need a shower more than a buffalo.”

“Mm-hmm.” Then, miraculously, Marble added to the conversation. “I was going to make marble salads for supper. Would you like some?”

An image of lettuce mixed with tiny rocks came to mind. Rarity’s jaw hurt just thinking about trying to eat such a thing. “Am I to assume that it’s a personal recipe, and that it involves actual marbles?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Rarity didn’t grimace, but she came close. “I would love to enjoy your cooking again, Darling, but… maybe… without the rocks?”

The disappointed frown never came. Instead, Marble appeared thrilled by the request, nodding with a surprising amount of eagerness.

Well, one bullet dodged. Rarity smiled and allowed her body to relax, exhaling slowly. “Wonderful. I think I’ll go wash the ick off my luscious body now.” She punctuated the sentence with a smirk that made the young mare giggle, but then she frowned at her clothes once more. “And... if it’s not too much of an imposition, perhaps you can let me borrow a change of clothes so I can get these washed?”

Marble paused, a hand going to her lips as she looked Rarity up and down thoughtfully. After a few seconds of study, she smiled and nodded. “Check Limestone’s closet. I think you’re her size.”

The suggestion brought Rarity’s pleasure to a halt. The dead sister. Who had died ages ago. They still had her clothes. Would it be proper at all for her to wear them? In what condition would they be in? She was divided between rejecting the clothes for fear of them falling to pieces at a touch or for the likely emotional attachment the surviving Pies would undoubtedly have towards them.

But Marble appeared… pleased. Rarity kept her mouth shut and nodded, though she still couldn’t be certain if she liked this idea.





A hot shower, Rarity decided, was the single greatest feat of ponydom. Nothing could be more satisfying than watching the grime and muck of a half-season wash down the drain, literally turning the water black. It took nearly an hour and almost a whole bar of soap (she’d have to pay the Pies back for that later) to get it all out. Now clad in only a towel, she stood staring at Limestone’s room. Her room, for the time being. It felt so good to be able to look at a bedroom and think of it as familiar.

Ignoring her bags by the old brown wardrobe, Rarity decided to investigate the closet. She’d left it alone before, feeling any investigation would have been an invasion of privacy. Yet Marble had insisted this time, so…

Opening the folding door, Rarity was relieved to discover that Limestone did have a decent collection of clothes. Compared to the plain frocks and dresses her siblings wore, the closet consisted largely of travelling attire. Mostly simple pants, jeans and blouses, although a proper dress or a traveling skirt could be seen here and there. The clothes were all threadbare, but they’d do in a pinch, and Rarity certainly felt ‘pinched’ at the moment.

There was a time when she would have been picky about her selection. Just a season ago she’d likely have spent an hour or more perusing her options for the best choice. For appearances. For flattery, if necessary. For charm and sophistication. For fabulosity. Under different circumstances, she still would.

But she had to be ready at a moment’s notice. Practical clothes were the order of the day, clothes that would let her move, protect her from the elements, not get in the way of her hands if she needed to reach one of her guns quickly. Simple clothes. Limestone’s closet had those in abundance, and Rarity didn’t intend to wear them for more than a day. Maybe just a few hours, if she could get her own clothes washed in decent time. Not likely, considering how long it had taken to clean herself.

She plucked a pale orange shirt that looked comparatively newer than the others – which didn’t mean much – and looked for a proper pair of jeans, as they’d likely be in better shape than the cotton pants and skirts. Sadly, Limestone seemed to favor darker colors, and nearly all of her jeans were black. How did the mare not suffer from sunstroke in those things? She selected the most sun bleached pair available and hoped for the best.

Marble had a better eye for form and shape than Rarity expected, for Limestone’s clothes fit her surprisingly well. A touch too big, but nowhere near enough to be uncomfortable, and the extra size made it easy for her to hide her necklace. Limestone had a number of vests available, but Rarity elected to go for a larger coat. Perhaps because it reminded her, vaguely, of Cranky’s, but she told herself it was for the big inside pockets that could hold her guns. How was that old donkey, anyway? Perhaps she could write him a letter, just to let him know she was still alive.

Standing before the mirror over the wardrobe, she decided that big jackets were certainly not her style. Still, it would suit her needs for the time being. Taking it off and letting it rest on the back of the wardrobe’s chair, she took another look. Orange wasn’t her color, but she had no interest in being picky.

Odd. Whenever had she lost that perfectionism? The thought sobered her up quite a bit. How much more of her would change before this drifter’s life was behind her? Maybe in another year she’d be unrecognizable, even to herself. A frightening concept. No, terrifying. She stared at her reflection, at her unkempt mane and long face. No blush adorned her cheeks, no lipstick, no eyeshadow. Just Rarity, a forlorn creature that was slowly dying, being turned into something new. Her face remained as soft as ever, and she’d always been a small mare, but now there was a new size to her muscles that the shirt couldn’t hide. Rarity was leaner, stronger, more toned. When she touched her arm, she felt not the softness of a seamstress but the hardness of muscle.

Was that Rarity she was looking at… or the Bulletproof Heart?

“Stop it, Rarity,” she grumbled, turning away from her own image and grabbing a brush. “That’s not who you are, and you are not going to go down that road. It only leads to misery.” Easy enough to say, but grabbing hold of her confidence? Not so much. She needed something to help her out of this morale slump. Something to help her get over Cayenne and that caravan and the Bulletproof Heart. Something… reassuring. As she worked out the tangles in her mane, she scanned the room. She doubted there would be anything that might help.

Her eyes passed over an object on the wall just above the window. They snapped back, and Rarity felt weak in the knees. It was a stone carving of the crescent moon transposed over the sun, the traditional sigil of the Church of Mother Night. The sight of it filled her with guilt considering some of the things she’d said and thought about the Sisters, but… maybe there was some hope there. After all, who else did she have to turn to? Certainly not Marble. Dumping her frightening and dark worries upon that sweet young mare? No, absolutely not.

Her mind made up, Rarity turned to the bed where she’d set down her holsters. Except, now that she really looked at them, she noticed something missing. Namely, Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. Curious. I was sure I left them right here.

A chill ran down her spine and her hackles rose. She tossed the brush onto the bed and, with ears perked and mind on full alert, moved cautiously to the door. A quick peek revealed nothing in the hallway. Bathroom was empty. There was the master bedroom at the end of the hall, and Rarity weighed her options. Maud had been very clear the last time that she wasn’t to go in there.

But her guns were gone. Somepony had taken them, there could be no other explanation. And Maud had made it even more clear that Marble was scared to death of the things, so it couldn’t be her. Somepony else had to be in the house, and the master bedroom would be the perfect hiding place. She reached for the doorknob, gripped it tightly. If somepony was in there, would she have a chance?

No, wait. The bedroom made no sense. She’d only be putting herself in a corner, barring jumping out a window. If the villain was here, they would…

They would probably use Marble as a hostage. A ragged breath burst from Rarity’s lungs at the idea, images of Coco being carried to the stairs of the shop flitting past her vision. Under no circumstances could she let that happen, not to Marble. She had to end this, and end it quickly. But how?

Another look around. Nopony in sight. They weren’t coming for Rarity yet, it seemed. Waiting for her to make a move? They might be in the master bedroom, expecting her to take a look or waiting for an opportunity to catch her from behind. If so, then why give them the opportunity? She could leave, run to the nearest house and get help. If she was fast, they wouldn’t have any time to harm Marble.

And if they were waiting for her in the dining room?

She’d be able to face the problem head on. At the very least going that way wouldn’t end up with her backed into a corner so easily. She quickly conjured up a mental image of the bottom floor as she knew it, coming up with strategies and tricks. Approaching the dining room, she began discarding potential plans. Talking them out of it? No chance of success. Charge in, use the element of surprise? Strong chance of getting shot for her trouble. Try to slip past undetected? Risky. Unlikely. And none of those plans saved Marble.

Give herself up? She cringed, but had to acknowledge that it was probably the best chance Marble would get. It hadn’t worked for Coco, but maybe this time would be different. A last resort, then. She snuck along the wall, keeping as quiet as she could, and scanned the room.

No gang members holding a pony hostage. No nothing. The room was as it had been the last she’d seen it. A relief… unless they were in the kitchen, which she couldn’t see, or upstairs. Rarity would have no choice but to expose herself to the empty dining room. Not good if some crook chose the opportune moment to come downstairs. But to get a safe look at the kitchen…

All Rarity’s plans and schemes collapsed at what she saw. Marble Pie sat at the kitchen table, her chin propped up in one hand. Rarity’s guns lay on the table before her. She was staring at them thoughtfully, brow furrowed as though she were trying to solve a puzzle.

“Marble Pie!” Rarity stomped into the room, her sudden appearance making the young mare practically fall out of her seat. “You scared me half to death! I thought some outlaw had stolen my guns and might be doing horrible things to you.”

Recovering from the outburst, Marble straightened in her seat with a hand over her heart, taking slow, calming breaths. “M-Miss Belle. You startled me.”

“Startled you?” Hands on hips, breath erratic, Rarity glared at the wide-eyed mare. “I almost had a heart attack when I found my guns missing.”

“I only wanted to—”

“I don’t want to be stuck in another hostage situation!” Her exclamation snuffed out the fire of Rarity’s wrath. She wobbled on rubbery knees, grasping the back of a chair with one hand to steady herself. The other shook violently as she rubbed at the necklace beneath her shirt. Only now did she recognize the familiar emptiness and cold that filled her to the core.

“I’m s-sorry, I…” She lowered her gaze and fought back tears. “I can’t go through that again. I can’t. I don’t want another Braeburn.”

Only her intense breathing and the frantic drumbeat of her heart in her ears broke the silence. She clenched her eyes closed and willed the memories away. No more Cocos screaming. No more hands groping her. No more dark stains on the shop’s wall.

No more Braeburn.

She never heard Marble stand, and it took some time for her to realize the young mare was supporting her weight. Rarity allowed herself to be guided into one of the chairs, her legs giving out just before she landed. Taking a haggard breath, she wiped away the not-quite escaped tears from her eyes and looked up at Marble. “Thank you. I’m sorry for… for this.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marble offered a frail smile. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

Leaning over the table, trembling fingers rubbing just beneath her horn, Rarity closed her eyes. “And to think, I was just about to ask where the nearest church was. Guess it’s t-too late to ask Them for help getting over things.”

She heard Marble walk away, and then the faucet of the kitchen sink. When she next opened her eyes, she found a tall glass of water on the table before her. She snatched it up and drank. The cool liquid was like a balm to the mind, and already she could feel her shaking fade, if not completely going away. She set the half-empty glass down with a gasp. “Thank you, Darling. I needed that.”

Her eyes landed on Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. A new, more subdued worry came to her. “Oh. Maud told me not to let you see my guns.”

Marble sat opposite her, smile fading to a neutral expression as she eyed the weapons. “I’m not afraid of guns. Maud just thinks I am.”

Rarity nodded, glad for the change in conversation. “Will she be upset if she sees them out?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Marble pulled them out of Rarity’s reach before she could reclaim them. “Let me worry about that.”

“And if she kicks me out because of this?”

“She won’t.” The young’s mare’s face turned hard as stone. “I won’t let her. It’s not just her house.”

The image of the Pie siblings in an argument was… well, it was strange, considering she had trouble imagining either of them raising their voices for any reason. “Still, I’d rather not be the cause of a fight between you two.”

Marble’s eyes went back to the guns. Her thoughtful frown returned. She ran her fingers along Ruby Heart’s barrel, tracing the rough edges of the embedded rubies. “What is it like to kill somepony?”

Rarity’s ears perked. She ignored the needle poking her heart to cautiously ask, “Why do you want to know?”

She didn’t get a response. Instead, Marble just stared at her, face neutral and eyes pleading. Considering her situation, Rarity wondered about the potential reasons behind such a query. But then, given her answer, maybe it didn’t matter.

“Killing somepony is the worst feeling in the world,” she whispered. “Every time I hurt somepony, I feel less… ‘me’. It’s like I’m killing a little bit of myself at the same time.”

Marble’s eyes widened, but only slightly. “And you’ve killed with these?”

Rarity couldn’t meet her eyes. “Recently.”

“But if it hurts so much, why do it?”

“Isn’t that the question?” Rarity rested her cheek in her palm and traced the edge of her glass with a finger. “I don’t know what drives most ponies to do it, but for me, it’s because my fear of death trumps the pain it inflicts. I’m always so scared, I can’t just let them kill me. So I fight back.”

“And hurt yourself in the process,” Marble muttered, studying the guns once more. She was silent for a time, her fingers still roaming the two guns as if touching their every surface would make her understand them better. Gradually, her shoulders began to slump and the hardness of her eyes faded.

“I wonder if the ponies who killed Papa, Mama, and Limestone felt that pain.”

Rarity’s ears folded back. Once again, she wished Marble hadn’t found her guns. The truth was that she didn’t think most of the ponies running in gangs and raider posses gave a damn about who they killed. Surely that wasn’t what Marble wanted to hear. “I…” Her mouth closed quick when Marble met her gaze. What was she supposed to say?

Something fell onto the table between them with a loud slap. Rarity’s head jerked up, her hand instinctively reaching for Silver Lining, except she went for her unadorned hip rather than the tabletop. She froze upon finding Maud looming over both of them. Though her face remained as expressionless as ever, there was a twitch in her right eye.

Maud’s gaze drifted to the guns. “I said not to let her see them.” No fire in her voice, but it still made Rarity shrink back.

Except she wasn’t responsible for this, now was she? Trying not to think about how Maud had all but crushed her hand in their first meeting, Rarity sat up a little straighter and turned fully to the mare. “I’ll have you know they were in my room.” She flinched as those hard eyes locked on her, but didn’t back down. “Marble did this on her own.”

Turning her head in a sharp motion, Maud peered at her little sister. Marble’s face was half hidden behind her mane, but she still met that stony stare with a nod. She didn’t look half as worried as Rarity felt. In fact… the look in her narrowed eye frightened more than Maud’s placidity.

A long, deep breath later, Maud turned away. “Upstairs. Now.”

It took Rarity a moment to realize the command was not aimed at her. She watched as the sisters disappeared to the second floor, Maud stiff as stone, but Marble’s movements fluid and sure. Something about it told Rarity that Maud wasn’t going to be taking as much of a lead in the coming discussion as she probably expected. Then again, Rarity hadn’t known either of them long enough to make a proper judgement call.

Either way, guilt ran its laps around her brain. This might not have been entirely her fault, but even so…

She turned to grab her guns, determined to bring them back to her room, but paused. The object Maud had slapped onto the table was a newspaper, and a local one. Rarity’s eyebrows shot up at this discovery. The nearest source of paper had to be up in the Bowl north of Hoofington. High quality paper would have to come from the region around Manehattan or Mooisville. This far south, the import costs for the materials necessary to run a newspaper had to be prohibitive. She wondered about the subscription fees.

Curiosity got the better of her. She flipped the paper, glanced at the date, then did a double take. It was the 96th of Falling Heat. Considering the last few weeks, she ran the numbers in her head and determined that her birthday had occurred while she’d been in Elysium. Or perhaps right before, when she’d been starving in the desert. She’d entirely missed it. To think, there’d come a time when she’d miss her own birthday. Twenty-five years old.

Well, at least she still felt young. Sighing, she took a look at the headline. Then she sighed again.



Bulletproof Heart: Enemy of the Apple Family?



Beneath the headline was a low quality image of one of the wagons from the caravan she’d discovered a scant few days ago. This brought a fresh wave of nausea, and Rarity swore she could smell the burning flesh of a pile of pony corpses. She skimmed the article, teeth grinding more and more. It seemed that Cayenne had somehow managed to spread the idea that she was responsible for that travesty. At least, she assumed it was Cayenne. The paper didn’t name its source. Wanting nothing more to do with that infernal moniker ponies were attributing to her vastly exaggerated recent history, she opened the paper in search of something less distasteful to read.

Equestria was a busy place, and the Rockstead paper was full of stories. Rumors for where the Flaming Vermillion had gone off to. The Apple Family matriarch disappearing from Sweet Apple Acres. A wealthy recluse in Hoofington sponsoring an orphanage. Manehattan’s chief archmage dead. A town on the edge of the Sunpeaks that had its wells dry up. Theories regarding the Bulletproof Heart’s identity (“Killed an ex-lover in a jealous rage? Where are they getting these ideas?”). Some of the stories were weeks old, a reminder of the slow rate of communication between the city states.

Rarity reached the classifieds near the back, which didn’t interest her any. She almost put the paper away, but paused. There was a picture in the corner, a family? What was that doing in—

The air left her. Her hands shook so much she had to grasp the paper with her magic to see properly. It can’t be. They didn’t. Tell me they didn’t!

But they did. To her horror, they did. The picture was of a happy family standing before a familiar home. It was an old image, faded, but that didn’t make it any harder for her to make out. The stallion with his tacky floral shirt and straw hat, the mare with her hideous white pants and terribly poofy ponytail. She held an infant in her arms, the baby looking up at her in curiosity as she sucked on a pacifier.

And there, with the stallion’s hands on her shoulders, was a Rarity of no more than twelve years old. She had a good smile, but Rarity remembered how forced it had been. They’d dragged her from her sewing for a dumb family photo, and all she wanted was to get back to her newest couture. She’d put up with it and smiled for the camera, because as annoyed as she was, she loved her family and wasn’t going to disappoint them.

The image, so familiar, so old, made something swell in her chest. It bubbled up and threatened to burst out through her eyes. But she ignored it, because there was something far more important than a moment underappreciated. Beneath the image were six simple words, words that filled her with a fresh terror:



Deal made. All forgiven. Come home.



Teardrops smudged the words. “You… Y-you fools…” Her magic flickered. She took the page in trembling hands that crumpled the paper in their grip. All her struggles had been for nothing. The Apples had found her family. Or her family had found the Apples. Either way, she had no doubt as to the reality of things. They thought they’d made some sort of bargain for her life and freedom. She could see her mother making lunch, her father at work. Sweetie Belle all excited because her big sister was surely on the way.

And somewhere nearby, the Bad Apples were waiting.

“Bastards,” she hissed, wiping the tears from her face. “You just c-couldn’t leave them alone, could you?”

It was a trap. There was no way it couldn’t be. They had her unwitting family hostage, and they would come for her the moment she strolled into Mooisville.

She would go. What kind of daughter would she be if she didn’t?

She flipped to the front page and glared at the headline, as if she might set it alight with the heat of her rage.



Bulletproof Heart: Enemy of the Apple Family?



“All right, you cretins. You want an enemy?

“You’ve got one.”
> Episode 11: The Southroad
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


97th of Falling Heat, 1005 BA


“You’re leaving?”

Rarity glanced at Maud, then went back to counting her bullets. “Yes. I intend to leave as soon as possible.”

Maud lingered in the doorway. Rarity paid her no mind, too busy putting her new 45 caliber ammunition in a fresh bullet bag. She’d lost the majority of her ruby-tipped bullets in the sandstorm, aside from the few that remained in Ruby Heart’s slide loader, and she hadn’t time to wait for new ones to be made. She’d bought enough regular bullets to last her a while though. She’d restocked on 9mm bullets for Silver Lining of course. She had enough ammunition now to practice a clip on each gun every day for the next season.

With what she expected to happen, she might need every shot.

“Stay another night.”

With a sigh, she brushed the last of the 9mm bullets into Silver Lining’s ammo bag. Tying it to her belt loop on the left, she answered, “In case you missed it, the Apple Gang is holding my family hostage. The longer I wait, the more likely they’ll think that I’m not coming. What do you think they’ll do if they believe I didn’t care enough to show up?”

Maud watched her tie Ruby Heart’s new ammo bag to her belt loop, right next to Silver Lining’s. “You don’t know they’re being held hostage.”

Rarity’s laugh even tasted bitter. “Yes, I’m sure my parents and sister have no idea.” She stared at the bed, the familiar photo flitting through her mind’s eye. The memory of her family’s smiles settled in her stomach like a lead weight. “I can’t take the risk. I have to go.”

A hand, unexpectedly soft, touched her shoulder. “I’ve got a load of gems heading to Hoofington tomorrow evening. They’re taking the Southroad. It’s got protection. Wait.”

The idea made Rarity cringe. Going with a caravan meant moving at their speed, which wouldn’t be her speed. But then, it would be a lot safer, and if the Bad Apples deigned to follow her out of Rockstead it might be nice to have some backup. That assumed she could trust Maud’s hired help though. She studied the mare, but was unable to find any sort of emotional hint in that neutral face.

“I’ve seen what can happen to even a large wagon train,” she said at last. “How do you know your caravan is any safer than the one I found before?”

Not an ounce of hesitation or doubt touched Maud’s reply. “If there’s something out there that can do that, would you rather face it alone?”

“If I’m alone, they might not notice me at all.” Yet Rarity had to concede Maud’s point. If she was going to get into a fight against enough ponies as to take down a large caravan, she’d rather not do it by herself. Did her family have time for her to move at the caravan’s pace?

Maud squeezed her shoulder. Perhaps it was meant to be reassuring. “You have time. The Apple Gang can’t possibly know when or even if you’ll see the message. If this is a scheme, they’ll be waiting for the long haul.”

That… made sense. It had to have taken a few weeks for the Rockstead paper headquarters to even receive her parents’ ad, and it may not have even reached places like Las Pegasus or Mareami yet. Unless they used unicorn messengers. She could have gone to the headquarters herself to ask about how long the ad had been running, but what if the Bad Apple Gang was hoping she’d do exactly that? It seemed farfetched even to her, but she’d had enough trouble with the Gang to not want to invite any more if she could help it.

“I know you’re scared.” Maud turned her so they faced one another properly. “I know you think things are lower than the bedrock layer. I know what it’s like. But you can’t run into this guns blazing. Saving your family isn’t worth anything if you’re not alive to enjoy it.”

The words, so full of meaning, sounded strange coming in that bland tonality. Even so, Rarity found she appreciated them. Maud really did know, didn’t she? She’d already lost what Rarity was at risk of losing. She gazed into those plain eyes, which seemed so disinterested compared to her words and motions. It would be comical, had Rarity any interest in amusement right now.

Heaving a deep sigh, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait. I might go a little crazy, though.”

“Your impatience is acceptable. Your death isn’t.” Maud turned for the door.

“Maud?”

She paused in the hall to turn back.

“Thank you.”

Maud met her gaze. After a moment of silence, she turned and walked away. Rarity wondered if she’d ever properly understand the mare.

Rubbing the nub on Silver Lining’s grip, Rarity turned to observe her backpack. It had already been fully loaded. “Now what am I going to do with my day?” After several minutes of pacing and trying not to think about her family’s situation, Rarity decided to head into town.

There were a few things she could think of that might take her mind off her worries.





“Hey, did you read that article in the paper?”

“There are a lot of articles in the paper, Miss Prattler.”

“Don’t tease, Eavesdrop, you know I mean the one on the Bulletproof Heart!”

“Oh. I did read that one, actually.”

“Can you believe she wiped out an entire caravan on her own? And not just any caravan, an Apple Family caravan.”

“You really shouldn’t believe everything you read in the paper.”

“What, you think they’re lying?”

“I think they don’t have all their facts straight. Nopony short of the Flaming Vermillion could have taken down one of those caravans by herself.”

“But it wasn’t her! I’m telling you, the Bulletproof Heart is real. I wonder why she’d go after the Apple Family. Aren’t they separate from the Bad Apple Gang?”

“Who knows? Maybe she’s one of those class warfare, ‘down with the agricultural elite’ types.”

“Oh, I hope not. You don’t fight the earth ponies, how else would we survive?”

“Thestrals grow food too, y’know.”

“But thestrals don’t run Equestria. Everypony knows the big earth pony families hold the power.”

“I’m just saying we’d find a way to live without them if we had to.”

“But the Apples… It’s a shame, isn’t it? They just don’t have the same clout they used to, not since the Gang formed and cut ties with them. They say it was like an all-out civil war for a while.”

“I know. I had an uncle who died in the fighting. I was still in a foal’s crib at the time.”

“Let’s just hope this doesn’t mean the Bulletproof Heart’s in league with the Bad Apples. That would be just terrible.”

“I’m still not convinced it was Bulletproof that did that Apple caravan in. It could have been a rival family with a grudge.”

“It was her, Eavy! They even got a description! A unicorn mare.”

“That’s not a description, Miss Prattler. Coat color? Mane color? Maybe a bit of news on her clothing?”

“Well, they did say she’s white. Such a noble color.”

Rarity figured now was the time to get out of the market district.





Unfortunately for Rarity, it turned out buying a couple sets of new clothes and resizing them wasn’t a good enough distraction. “They told everypony what I look like. Everypony!”

As she viciously attacked her new khaki brown pants with a needle and thread at the dining table, Marble busied herself with the making of dinner – something to do with tomatoes and spinach, apparently. She kept glancing Rarity’s way as the rant continued.

“How am I supposed to go into a town for supplies? How many ponies saw that article? Will it spread across Equestria?” She growled, flipping the pants to continue her work. She gripped the fabric so tightly she nearly ripped out the new stitching. “I used to be one of those silly gossipers, but now I understand just how terrible the habit can be. I have half a mind to find that news reporter and give her a piece of my mind!”

Marble dared to speak up, her words barely audible. “I don’t think the article will spread beyond Rockstead.”

“I should hope not! But what if it does?” Rarity closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning everypony staring at her when she walked into Mooisville. “Everypony will know me on sight. My reputation may be ruined. I’ll never be able to open a new shop. And let’s not forget the army of brutes out for my blood!”

“Um… Well…” Marble bit her lip and failed to push past her visible anxiety.

Rarity waved the sewing needle in the air. “Say, you all remember that pony Rarity, the wealthy one who used to have a proper business in Spurhoof? Why no, I certainly don’t. She’s gone and disappeared, and who cares about her anyway?”

“That’s not—”

“But what about that Bulletproof Heart, hmm?” She went at the pants once more, fingers and magic working together to trim the legs. Scissors and thread and needle and buttons floated around her in a minor storm of crackling blue energy. “Oh, everypony knows about her! She’s some trigger happy ruffian gunslinger who’s always dirty because she lives in the wilds scrounging for food and trying not to get killed by heartless outlaws and can’t come into town and live a civilized life because everypony knows who she is on sight!”

A hand caught her wrist. Rarity looked up to find Marble staring at her with a deep frown and glassy, concerned eyes. She tried to pull her hand away, but the small mare had a grip like iron. “Marble?”

“Calm down.” The fingers squeezed, and Rarity winced in pain. “Please. Calm down.”

What was that Maud said before?

She tends to forget her strength when she’s scared. I did not want to have to save you from her.

With a heavy sigh, Rarity let her tools settle onto the table and covered her eyes with her free hand. “I apologize, Darling. I guess I’m letting my emotions run away with me today.”

“Mm-hmm.” Marble eased up on her grip, but didn’t let go.

Rarity looked up. Marble fidgeted and avoided her gaze. “Marble, honey, it’s okay. I won’t bite if you want to say something.” And please don’t squish my arm into a toothpick.

Closing her eyes, Marble took a deep breath. At last, she let Rarity go. She promptly returned to the kitchen counter. As she started grating some cheese, she spoke up. “They don’t have a picture of you.”

That wasn’t at all what Rarity had expected. “No, I suppose they don’t.”

“There are a lot of white unicorns out there.”

Rarity’s ears went flat against her skull. “I guess that’s true.”

“So there’s no reason for anypony to believe you’re the Bulletproof Heart.”

“I know. I’m fretting.” Rarity crossed her arms on the table and rested her chin on them. “I’m sorry. It just seems like there’s so much happening and I don’t know if I can keep up anymore.”

Marble looked as if she were going to say something, but after a moment’s pause went back to work. When it became apparent that no further conversation was coming, Rarity looked down at the pants on the table. She rubbed the fabric, thinking about home and Moosiville and her old dreams. They seemed so silly now. Inconsequential.

Her thoughts drifted to her family, especially Sweetie. She’d not been much of an elder sibling, had she? Always practicing her stitching or trying to make new designs, never bothering to entertain her sister. The dear child had taken it all in stride. Now that she reflected on it, it seemed the majority of their little spats had stemmed from Rarity’s intolerance. And really, would it have been such a burden to blow an hour or two playing with Sweetie?

Great, now she could blend guilt in with her fears. It seemed so shameful now, placing her foolish fantasies above her family like she had.

“It’s going to be alright.”

Rarity cried out, nearly jumping from her seat. Maud blinked down at her, but otherwise offered no reaction.

“Honestly, Darling!” Rarity slapped a hand to her chest as she fought to control her breathing. “You really should give a mare some warning.”

“I apologize,” came the bone-dry reply. “I need to exercise better control of my volume.”

“If you say so.” Heartbeat back under control, Rarity turned to the pants and took the needle and thread in her magic once more. “I suppose I should get these things out of the way, hmm? I’ll finish shortening this leg and then move my operation.”

She worked for a while, the air filled with the sound of snipping scissors and the faint hint of magic. Maud didn’t move, and Rarity could feel those dull eyes boring into her. She wondered if she was supposed to have said something else. Had she offended in some way?

“Tonight’s free of charge.”

Pausing in her work, Rarity blinked up at her. “Pardon?”

“I didn’t mention it before.” Maud glanced at Marble, who didn’t seem to be paying them any mind. Her eyes returned to Rarity. “You don’t pay for staying anymore.”

Rarity fidgeted with the thimble on her finger. “That’s really not necessary. I can afford to pay, and you two have already—”

“We know what you’re going through.” Maud met her stare with heavy-lidded eyes. “We know it’s tough. Tougher than what we had to go through.”

“I don’t know about that…” Rarity petered off as Maud leaned just a fraction closer. Such a small change, but it was enough to make her shrink back in her seat.

“We lost our family,” Maud said, and a touch of force managed to press through her normally stoic tone. “But not all of it, and we kept our fortune. We kept our lives. We worked hard to keep running the farm on our terms, but that was a choice, not a requirement. You stand to lose everything, including your life, and you don’t have the liberty of choice.” She turned her eyes to Marble, who was now watching them from behind a curtain of hair. “Your situation is harder. We want to help however we can.”

Marble gave a small nod and a “Mm-hmm.”

Looking from one sister to the other, Rarity sighed and slumped back in the seat. “You girls… Alright. If you really insist, then alright. I just don’t like taking advantage of you like this.”

“You’re not taking advantage of us,” Maud replied as she walked away. “You’re catching what little breaks you can. We’re happy to help.”

“Mm-hmm.”

If only she could take comfort in their words, but all she could think of was how they’d just confirmed how preposterously bad her situation was. Not exactly the kind of encouragement she preferred. It only made her regret staying here another night. What if Maud and Marble were wrong, and she got to Moosiville a day too late to save her family?

Stop it, Rarity. You’re letting your anxiety take control again. Sucking down an elongated breath, she willed the negative thoughts away. You’ll get home, you’ll solve this problem, and you’ll save everypony.

Somehow…





The gem caravan was small, consisting of only four wagons. Four mercenaries protected it, each with their own Dust Devil. It seemed woefully inadequate for whatever might be out there, but Rarity wouldn’t complain. Any protection was better than no protection at all. She noted with curiosity that everypony in the group was an earth pony, with the notable exception of a large white unicorn who appeared to be separate from the others. He’d be quite handsome were it not for his wild blue mane, stubble and raggedy military jacket that looked like it had been stolen from a garbage heap.

Her survey of the wagon train was interrupted by the approach of the Pie Sisters from the farmhouse. Curiously, it was Marble in the lead. She went straight to Rarity, holding something in her hands and unable to look her in the eye. Maud held something large and brown.

“What’s this?” Rarity took the proffered item from Marble. It was a thin wristband of silver chain, adorned with the moon-and-sun sigil of the Church of Mother Night. The sigil itself appeared to be made of sculpted obsidian. “Why, it’s lovely!”

“Mm-hmm.” Marble entwined her fingers and shifted from hoof to hoof. “Y-you said you wanted to go to church, but never went. I thought you might like a reminder. The Sisters are always looking out for us.”

Translation: she feared Rarity was losing faith. It was true that Rarity had had some… choice words for the princesses in the past, but her faith had only been a little shaken, not tested. Still, obsidian was pretty low in Spike’s Gem/Bit Conversion System, so Marble likely didn’t spend too much on it. Unless…

Rarity peered at the young mare. “This isn’t some family heirloom, is it?”

Marble actually smiled. “I asked Maud to get it from the church this morning.”

“Oh. Good. In that case…” She slipped the band over her wrist, tightened the chain, then held it up to view it in the proper light. The dark stone contrasted sharply with her pale skin, so much so it was almost garish. Still, it was a gift from a friend, and Rarity wasn’t so picky about that kind of thing anymore. She chose to ignore that unhappy pony in her mind crying over her lost principles. “Thank you, Darling. I’m sure it will bring me luck.”

Marble raised her hand, palm down and gave Rarity a hopeful look. With a warm smile, Rarity copied the gesture. They brought their hands together, fingers intertwining, held that for a moment, then pulled their hands apart gradually. They had only a few seconds to enjoy one another’s smiles before a new, rough voice interrupted what had been on the verge of a poignant moment. “You didn’t tell me the tag along was gonna be a unicorn.”

They turned to find Maud standing beside a tall earth pony mare. The newcomer was cream-colored with a light brown – Have you lost even your color recognition, Rarity? It’s grayish gamboge! – mane. She was missing a chunk from her left ear and was dressed in a rumpled green – Brilliant harlequin. Really! – buttoned shirt. Rarity chose to give the pony in her head a break and not give the pants more than a passing glance.

“Is that a problem?” Maud asked.

“Of course it’s a problem,” the mare replied with what must have been the most disdainful tone Rarity had ever heard. “Unicorns don’t belong on wagon trains, and I’m already dragging along one of the whining layabouts.”

Maud raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said the big guy did well.”

“Well for a unicorn. There are standards.”

Wonderful, the leader of the caravan was an earth pony supremacist. Probably from an agricultural family. Rarity set her hands to her hips and looked down her muzzle at the mare. “I’m no stranger to long-distance travels, thank you very much. I’ll handle myself fine.”

“You better! You lag about and I’ll leave you behind and let the sun bake you. If the Pie Sisters weren’t so reliable and hadn’t already paid I’d have refused you.” The mare turned about, tail flicking. “You get the last wagon with the other filth. If you ain’t on it when we head out in twenty, you ain’t on it at all.”

Rarity grit her teeth as the caravan master walked back to the wagons. “Well, this is going to be a fun trip.”

“Roma comes from the Mater Family,” Maud explained. “Used to be a big agricultural family until the Harvests and the Cherries joined up to beat them in a marketing war. The Maters have resorted to trading to keep themselves up to noble status. Roma’s still just a journeymare, so she doesn’t actually own the wagons.”

“And yet she still wants to rub her race in everypony’s face, I see.” Rarity sighed and rubbed the nub on Silver Lining’s grip. “I guess I’ll just have to put up with it for a while. I’m in no position to be picky.”

Maud shrugged and turned from the wagons. “I’m sorry to say she hires like-minded sorts. Her guard was hired by her employer though, so they should be alright.”

That did make things seem a bit more tolerable. The guards appeared capable of handling themselves in a fight, although Rarity had learned firsthand not to make that kind of judgement at first sight. At least she’d probably get to know the unicorn stallion, since she’d have no choice but to share a wagon with him.

Come to think of it, that didn’t sound pleasant at all. She could almost feel Braeburn touching her again.

“This is for you.” Marble offered the brown object.

Rarity accepted it cautiously, recognizing it once she spotted the buttons. It was Limestone’s larger coat. “This? But why?”

“It gets cold out there at night,” Maud replied with that ceaseless droning tone. “None of your clothes are designed for that. This is.” Just as Rarity was about to object, she spoke over her. “Take it. Limestone would be glad it’s seeing its proper use instead of collecting mothballs in the closet.”

Rarity was tempted to point out that the thing looked terrible on her, but realized it would be easier on everypony to simply accept. After all, the nights did get cold, and she had the necessary materials to spruce up the worn and weathered parts. It would give her something to do on the long road when things were quiet. Plus, she didn’t want to offend the Pie Sisters. “Thank you, Maud. I’ll try to take care of it.”

“Um…” Marble clasped her hands as she met Rarity’s gaze. “I hope you’re wrong and your family’s okay. I really do.”

“That makes two of us.” Rarity wasn’t going to get her hopes up, but she still smiled. Tucking the folded coat under one arm, she looked from sister to sister, one anxious and the other stoic. “Thank you so much for your support. I’m sorry I wasn’t much of a house guest, but I’ll try to make it up to you next time.”

“Just make sure there is a next time.” Maud held out her hand. Rarity took it, recalling the last time they parted ways like this. It felt good, like the handshake was a promise. As if to emphasize that, Maud added a blunt “Don’t die.”

Rarity’s confidence in that regard was far lower this time. “Not if I can help it.” She’d tried to make it sound casual, but couldn’t be sure if she’d pulled it off.

“You…” Marble flinched, glanced away. It took her a few seconds to recover, and Rarity waited patiently. At last, she brushed her long mane from her face and, with head bowed but eyes meeting hers, said, “You’ll write when you get to Hoofington? And Mooisville?”

“Of course I will.” Before the young mare could escape, Rarity engulfed her in a tight hug. The tiny squeak that left Marble’s throat was nothing short of precious. She reminded Rarity of a more docile Fluttershy. How was Fluttershy doing now, anyways? “I will be sure to write. You’ll see, I’ll be just fine.”

“Y-you better be.” Marble’s attempt at a forceful tone failed spectacularly under the heat of her own cheeks.

Ending the embrace, Rarity adjusted her backpack and offered them both one more smile. “Thank you again.” A moment’s pause, just long enough to feel awkward, and she finally turned away.

It dawned upon her that she had been doing a lot of leaving. Saying goodbye didn’t seem to come easier with experience. This one weighed on her heart a little more than the others, and why?

Perhaps because, this time, she wasn’t confident she’d be able to come back.

The wagon was filled with boxes. So many, it seemed there was hardly any room for her, much less her and that massive stallion. Once inside the shaded interior, she settled her backpack on the floor and simply stared at what would be home for the next seven weeks or more. Her mind kept drifting to the Pie Sisters and their warmer treatment this time around. A glance at the bracelet did nothing to help her somber mood.

She reached up to rub her necklace. She remembered saying goodbye to Fluttershy, so confident that she would be returning. Fluttershy… was this how she’d felt at the time? It was so easy to see her now, sitting in the clearing by the graves of her husband and son, pink mane glowing in the sunlight. Alone. She shouldn’t have left her alone.

Sighing, she sat amongst the boxes and let her head rest against the wall.

“You’re a terrible friend, Rarity.”

With the squeak of wheels and a rattling shake, the journey began.





Rarity’s wagon companion wasn’t as talkative as she’d hoped. Not that he was unfriendly, far from it. In spite of his crude appearance, he was a complete gentlestallion to her. But he was also a private individual, and no amount of needling could break his shell. So Rarity was forced to put up with mere small talk with this ‘Shining Armor.’ Most disappointing, especially after two weeks of travel when talking was the only thing that could relieve the tedium.

The group traveled mostly at night and into morning, pausing for rest near noon and sleeping until dusk. The wagon crew consisted of six earth ponies, including Roma Mater, and every one of them treated Rarity and Shining with a mix of apathy and disgust. They piled in two to a wagon, while the guards pitched tents and rotated turns keeping watch. Apparently the guards were hired as individuals rather than a group, although it seemed at least two of them had worked together before.

Despite looking far more… ‘ruffian’ than the traders, they at least treated Rarity with more respect. Well, as much respect as one could hope for from ponies chewing jokeweed and telling bawdy tales around campfires, but she had to take what she could get. Shining Armor didn’t sleep inside as she’d been told, but on the days he wasn’t on watch he tended to pitch his tent close to Rarity’s wagon. She couldn’t tell if he was doing it to keep clear of the bigots or because he wanted to keep watch over her. She did enjoy a few vain thoughts in that regard, though – a mare had to entertain herself somehow. It was good to know she still could after Braeburn.

She soon realized that her wagon was by far the most heavily packed. With no room to lay down, she eventually resorted to sleeping on top of the boxes themselves. It wasn’t much different from sleeping on the ground once she got used to it, and Limestone’s old jacket did a great job of keeping her warm. She made it a point to get some sleep before the others; the first night they’d decided to wake her by simply going, which had been a rude wakeup call from atop the cargo. The jerks had gotten a good laugh out of that.

The worst part about the journey was Roma herself. If she ever spoke a word in Rarity’s direction, it was related to how whatever she was doing was wrong. If it wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t good enough. If it was good enough, it was only by ‘unicorn standards’. Her muzzle was kept perpetually in the air when Rarity was out and about, every glance brimming with disdain.

Like the one she was currently giving Shining as he accepted a cup of stew from Rarity, who had begrudgingly accepted cooking duty for the night. Not a one of the traders looked happy about it, but Roma had to let Rarity do something, otherwise they’d run out of things to insult her over. At least the guards seemed to be enjoying the meal.

“I can’t believe you’re making us eat this piss,” one of the traders grumbled, aiming his complaint at Roma.

“Stuff it, Hogwash,” Roma growled. “You’re the one who didn’t wanna take cooking duty tonight.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t say one of the boneheads was gonna take my turn.” Hogwash’s lips peeled back in a grimace as he sipped from his bowl.

“Stop bitchin’,” one of the other traders snapped. “That’s what boneheads do.”

Though her cheeks burned and the little pony in the back of her mind wanted to show the jerks precisely what that bone sticking out of her head could do, Rarity kept her mouth shut. To defend herself would only antagonize them, and they were bad enough as it was. She finished handing out bowls to the rest of the guards, then started filling her own.

“Dumb mare used too many potatoes,” Roma muttered. “What, does she think we’ve got an unlimited supply of the things? We won’t last another week at this rate.”

Don’t say a word. Rarity grit her teeth and turned for the wagons. She could at least eat away from the arrogant cretins.

“You guys can say what you want,” one trader snickered. “At least it’s nice watching her walk away.”

Roma laughed, a sharp, quick sound. “Any stallion can score a flighty unicorn floozy! Go ahead, I bet she’d get on her knees for a compliment. About the only thing the boneheads are good for.”

Hackles rose. Fingers twitched, barely grazing Silver Lining. Hissing air through her teeth. Rarity kept her retort stifled in the tight confines of her throat as she sat on the back edge of her wagon and glared into the Great Salt Plains. I should have gone on my own, but no, I had to let those stupid sisters talk me into this.

“It’ll be safer, Rarity. Your family can wait one more day. The cross-desert trade route is faster anyway.” She snorted and gulped down her stew. Maybe she had gone a little heavy handed with the potatoes. “Why couldn’t Maud have used the Rambling Company? I doubt they’d hire these buffoons.”

Her gaze drifted once more over the sands, seeking out any signs of movement. Memories of her trip with Long Horn’s wagon train made her unwilling to trust her travelling companions with keeping watch. She’d been casting wary looks at the sand dunes for the entire trip, and her sleep had been restless. She had little intention of being caught in her bedroll by a bunch of ne’er-do-wells a second time. The memory left her paranoid, and any sound within the wagon was enough to snap her awake.

By the Sisters, she missed being a heavy sleeper.

“Don’t let them get to you.”

She jumped, free hand reaching for Ruby Heart, but stopped herself upon seeing Shining Armor. He leaned back as if expecting her to strike, tent bundle in his arms.

With a heavy sigh, Rarity focused on her soup once more. “Sorry, Mr. Armor. Just a little jumpy.”

Once her hand was lowered, he relaxed and set about getting his tent set up. “I can’t blame you, after what they just said.” He must have noticed her scanning the horizon again, for he asked, “You expecting something?”

A sip of soup. “The last time I was in a trade caravan, we got ambushed by griffons. The last time I traveled alone, I got ambushed by outlaws. I’m not interested in being ambushed for a third time.” He was silent, and when she turned her eyes to him he went back to work in a hurry. Had she said something strange? She chose not to press him, instead trying to enjoy her soup.

“You’ve got a bounty on your head, right?”

She groaned. “How is it everypony can tell that just by looking at me? It’s as if I’ve adapted some sort of look that says ‘hey, everypony, I’m a wanted mare!’”

“I meant no offense…”

“Too late now, I’m all flustered.” She shot him a smile to reveal her sarcasm. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Armor. I can handle myself.”

“Just Shining, ma’am.”

She watched him as he finished setting up his tent. It didn’t look at all big enough for him. Certainly smaller than what Yearling had shared with her. As he put down the last counterweight, she noted the pistol beneath his yellow officer’s coat. It had a long barrel, and the caliber appeared smaller than that of Ruby Heart. Larger than Silver Lining, though. It had a small gold sun pressed into the handle.

“That coat isn’t just for show, is it?”

He paused, but only for a moment. “No.”

He likely wouldn’t tell her more than that, and she didn’t press him. Had he been discharged for some reason? Or perhaps he’d turned traitor. She knew yellow was the standard color for the Hoofington Army, and that golden sun belonged to a Major. Oh, but she’d have loved to pick at his mind and find out his story.

“Hey.”

She blinked out of her reverie. He’d finished his tent and was kneeling before the tent flap, but there was no question he’d been addressing her. “Yes?”

“You’ve been around, right? Explored different places?”

“Well, I’m no explorer, but… I guess.”

His head turned her way, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. “Have you ever met a purple unicorn? She’d be about your age. Curious sort, always wants to know everything.”

Rarity cocked her head. “I can’t say I’ve met a pony who meets that description, no.”

“I see.” He took a long, slow breath. “Thanks, anyway.” He disappeared into the tent without another word. She stared at the tent flap, half hoping he’d come out and explain himself.

Now what was that all about?





Rarity had been sitting at the back of the train, gazing out at the night horizon beneath a pale half-moon, when the wagon stopped. The abrupt motion pulled her out of her musing, and the first thing she noted was that it was far too early to be stopping. They still had at least another hour before the sun would start to brighten the horizon.

Wary of what this might mean, Rarity hopped from the back of the wagon, boots kicking up sand as she landed. She kept a firm grip on Silver Lining as she circled the wagon. It only took a moment to notice the object in the distance, sparking with a faint orange glow. She’d overheard one of the traders say they were approaching a rest camp, so this was to be expected, right?

Shining Armor rode towards her from the front of the wagon train, face grim. She waited until he stopped at her side to ask, “What’s going on?”

The sand lizard, its silver scales glistening in the light of the moon, squatted to its belly, but Shining didn’t dismount. “It looks like the rest camp’s been raided.”

Raided? Just her luck. Not bothering to hide her annoyance, she said, “I thought it was exceedingly rare for bandits to raid the rest stops?”

He nodded. “It is. Hop on, Roma wants us to scout it out ahead of the caravan.”

“Us?” She took a moment to examine their surroundings, but none of the other guards magically appeared nearby. “Us. I’m not even a guard. Why us?”

Shining’s snorted and cast a dark look towards the front of the caravan. “Because we’re unicorns and that makes us expendable.”

“Direct quote?” At his nod, she sighed and checked Silver Lining’s current cylinder. Fully loaded. “Let’s get this over with.”

She accepted his offered hand, allowing him to pull her up onto the back of the Dust Devil behind him. “You ever ride before?” he asked.

“Once. It’s not an experience I like to remember, but I know the basics.” She shifted as the Dust Devil stood up once more, and soon they were riding towards the camp. Rarity didn’t give the traders so much as a passing glance; they were beneath her attention at this point.

When they were out of earshot of the others, Shining spoke up. “I’m betting you know your way around a fight.”

Rarity reached up to touch her necklace. “I’ve been in a few. Don’t worry, I won’t hesitate.”

“I’m more worried about your aim.”

That made her chuckle. “If the aim I’ve seen from most ponies constitutes ‘average’, then you have nothing to worry about.” Unable to see over his broad back, she leaned sideways to get a view of their destination.

At this distance it was much easier to tell that the camp had been attacked. The tents had fallen over, some of them still smoldering, and several storage crates and barrels had been smashed to pieces. A trio of bodies littered the area, and she promptly turned her eyes to their surroundings. Not to avoid the imagery, but because she half-expected the perpetrators to still be around.

“Fire looks old,” Shining muttered. “The bandits are probably long gone.”

“The last time I thought that, a pony threw a live stick of dynamite at me.”

He shifted to look at her from over his shoulder, eyes wide. “That seems a bit extreme.”

She shrugged. “Don’t look at me, they’re the ones who tried it.”

He studied her with one eye for several seconds before turning forward once more. “You really have been through some shit, haven’t you? Most civilians I know would be scared half to death right now.”

Perhaps he meant the words to be encouraging, but instead they left her cringing. To think there’d come a day – or night, as the case may be – when some gun-toting ex-soldier mercenary praised her for her combat experience. The ‘old’ Rarity would have laughed at the absurdity of it. Right now? Her heart slumped in her ribs at the understanding of what she was turning into.

They came to a stop just outside the camp. Dismounting, they walked among the remains to the bodies lying in the pale white sand. Two unicorns and an earth pony, all middle aged. Shining knelt down next to one of the bodies and shook its arm. “Loose, but cold. They’ve been lying here a while.”

Rarity took some minor relief in that even as she silently asked Luna to shepherd the poor ponies’ souls to the Exalted Stars. She turned her attention to the medical tent, easily identifiable by its blue colors. It was there that the fire had been, and it had consumed much of the tent and some of the surrounding supplies. “I don’t understand. These rest stops are pivotal for caravans like ours to survive the Southroad, and the bandits need them too. Destroying a stop is reckless in the extreme.”

“Yeah, it is.” Standing up once more, Shining started for one of the storage areas, which amounted to a lot of crates and barrels piled on top of one another. “Roma might think we’re just here to protect her, but my boss also wanted me to look into these raids, see if I can’t find who’s responsible. See if you can’t find some evidence, okay?”

Rarity started for one of the collapsed tents. “You mean this isn’t the first time this has happened?”

“It’s the first time they’ve gone after a rest camp,” he replied, looking into each crate one at a time. “But the raids have been going on for almost the entire fall season. My employer thinks they might all be coming from one group.”

Lifting the tent fabric in her magic, Rarity said, “That seems inordinately dangerous. From what I understood, most gangs leave the Plains after one or two raids, and those who don’t usually end up succumbing to the elements and lack of supplies.”

“This one seems to be an exception.” He cursed and tossed the lid of a barrel aside. “They took food. Must have been a hit for survival.”

The tent at last held up by her magic, Rarity stepped inside and inspected the interior. It had clearly been the barracks, given the… four cots? Either it had gone unused, or there was a fourth body nearby. She seriously doubted anypony escaped alive, after all.

“Well,” Shining grumbled, “at least the Rambling Company didn’t lose too much with this raid. That’ll take the sting off losing three volunteers. Maybe.”

Rarity took note of a picture frame lying on the ground. She picked it up and saw the smiling face of one of the unicorns out front. He was younger in the photo, dressed in a dapper suit. He had a colt, perhaps five, on his shoulder and another, slightly older tugging on his opposite sleeve. So, he’d been a father. And some random group of strangers snuffed out his life, as if it were nothing. Those two boys would probably be in their early teens now. Were they waiting at home with their mother, wishing their father’s year-long contract with the company would finally come to an end?

Spike’s book on the Bank had an entire chapter devoted to the Southroad. She’d only skimmed it, but she recalled that the rest camp merchants were very well paid for their services. And here was this stallion, earning a good wage to support his family. What had he done to deserve dying out here, so far from home in a barren and sweltering desert?

If her life were a book, Rarity imagined this would be the moment cluing the reader into a coming fight. A noble side quest, distracting the protagonist from her real goal. She set the picture down and turned away; she wasn’t some hero out to exact justice for the dead. She had her own problems to worry about right now, and she wouldn’t go searching for trouble.

But… if she did happen to knowingly come across the scoundrels responsible, she’d put her guns to good use.

The thought made her feel dirty. More so because it was honest.





Their search turned up nothing in terms of evidence. Whoever had decided to attack the camp, they’d left nothing substantial enough to pin the deed to a group or organization. Rarity wasn’t clear on how they’d be able to pick out such a thing anyway. From what Shining had told her, bandit gangs formed and broke up along the Southroad all the time. He hadn’t seemed too disappointed though. When pressed, he admitted that he didn’t expect to learn anything unless the bandits attacked the caravan directly. This was his third time making the run without any luck in that regard, if ‘luck’ was even the right term for it.

The bandits had only taken some of the food, and there was enough left over that the caravan wasn’t put in a bad spot. Rarity couldn’t blame Roma for wanting to stock up and move on, but she did blame her for not bothering to properly honor the three bodies. It was with no small amount of guilt that Rarity allowed herself to leave them behind. She would have to write to Spike when she got to Hoofington and explain things. Or did the Lonely Mountain have a post office? Doubtful, but one could never know.

It was almost three weeks after the unpleasant discovery. There’d been no sign of the bandits, and it seemed most of the traders were content to leave it at that. Rarity noted that Shining and his fellows weren’t so quick to let their guard down. Rarity elected to follow their example.

The traders sat around a campfire, cutting up and telling jokes as usual. Shining Armor and one of the other guards was off on a patrol of the immediate area. The other two idled nearby, facing the dark and keeping watch. As usual, Rarity sat on the back edge of her wagon. She had Silver Lining in hand, having just finished inspecting some of its parts and cleaning it. She wanted to practice her shooting, but Shining had warned her against it. Too loud. Too much potential for drawing attention. It made perfect sense, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Satisfied with her work, she put Silver Lining back in its holster and stood. Perhaps today’s lunch was ready. After one last, studious examination of the horizon, she turned the corner and looked to the campfire. The traders were already eating. ‘Orange dogs’. Carrots on bread, with a vegetable chili. It was one of the few welcome discoveries Rarity had made on this trip.

Too bad she had to go through them to get to one.

“Hey, if it isn’t sweet cheeks.” A light purple stallion with the dreadfully unfortunate name of Panting Dingo waggled his eyebrows as she approached. “Come to grace us with your presence, eh?”

Dear Luna, but she didn’t like him. The others might ignore, insult, or taunt her, but Panting’s thing was endless flirtation. He seemed to have it in his head that with the right combination of words he’d get a chance to ‘play’ with her, as he liked to call it.

Roma didn’t help matters. “I’m telling ya, P.D., just go for it. She’s only pretending to be offended, but once she sees your orange dog…” She grinned wolfishly while her trader friends laughed.

Rarity had grown a thick skin when it came to jibes such as these. She’d had to endure them for five weeks now. What was the point of continuing to let them get to her? Ignoring his roving eyes, she used her magic to snatch one of the carrots roasting over the fire, set it to some bread, and added a conservative dose of chili. Meal obtained, she turned away without a word.

Roma spoke up. “P.D., you’re a wuss. Maybe if you’d stop talking and started acting she’d wet your carrot.”

“Is that what you think, huh? Watch this.”

It took everything Rarity had not to groan. What was he up to now? Some new line that he thought might make her melt? She ignored the wolf whistles, pausing so as to get this over with. Maybe if she shoved her meal in his face…

“Alright, babe, let’s do this proper.” He appeared at her side with a cocked grin. “What say we stop playing games and have a little fun?”

No, nevermind, he wasn’t worth the loss of good food. “Give up while you’re ahead,” she snapped. “You’re just going to embarrass yourself.”

“Now don’t be that way.” He stepped close. Too close. “You’re pretty hot for a unicorn, and everypony knows you boneheads think with your… heh, ‘bone.’”

She leveled him with a narrow-eyed glare. “I’d rather burn in the desert. You want relief? Use your hand.” With the fool properly rejected, she turned and made her way for the wagon.

“Well, if you insist.”

She froze. He was touching her. Not just touching her. His hand was down there. He caressed her rump and hissed in her ear. “You want to burn? I’ll make you burn all day—”

The image flashed in her mind: Braeburn holding her close, his cocky smile assuring her of a night of torture. Coco screaming, Piles grinning.

And her too afraid to fire a gun.

Her meal fell as she pulled Ruby Heart out from under her vest. In the same motion, she spun left, elbow coming up fast to strike him in the jaw. He grunted, pulled back, didn’t notice as she took aim.

The gunshot filled the air like a thunderclap, and red bloomed on the inner thigh of his pants. Panting Dingo screamed and fell to the ground, clutching the fresh wound. Rarity stomped on his chest, hard, and pressed Ruby Heart’s barrel to his chin.

“Shit! What do you think you’re—?”

Silver Lining came out, aimed at the now-standing Roma’s head. “Shut up, you arrogant wretch of a mare!” Seeing everypony freeze and stare, Rarity turned her attention back to the whimpering, sobbing Panting. Grinding Ruby Heart against his chin, she snarled in his face. “If you ever so much as glance at me again, I swear to Celestia, Luna and Discord I will geld you and feed your worthless little bits to a sand lizard. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

Tears streaming down his cheeks, Panting nodded as best he could against her gun. “I get it, I get it! Please, don’t kill me!”

The familiar sounds of guns being cocked met her ears. She looked up to find all the traders aiming weapons at her. Rarity didn’t move, keeping Silver Lining aimed directly at Roma.

“Alright, you boneheaded bitch,” Roma snarled from behind her rifle. “Let him go, nice and easy. I could blow your head off and wouldn’t lose a minute of sleep over it.”

The tiny pony in the back of Rarity’s mind begged her to be reasonable, but the cold anger within strangled that notion. She was outnumbered and outgunned, but by the Sisters, she had had enough. “I’ll have time to fire one shot,” she snarled.

Roma’s eyes narrowed. “What good would that do you?”

“I can’t kill all of you,” Rarity acknowledged, her words colder than ice. “But I can make damn sure I at least kill you.”

Roma’s rifle wavered, lowing a fraction as a hint of fear flashed behind her eyes. Rarity knew instantly that she’d scored a hit. Just to emphasize her very real intentions, she made sure not to so much as glance at the other traders. She wanted the caravan leader to know that any bullets Rarity fired off would be aimed in only one direction.

Everyone was still, waiting to see who would make the first move. For once, Rarity felt no fear of all the guns aimed her way. She knew death was a possibility, perhaps even guaranteed. Somehow, this concept held no sway over her. She allowed the quiet to linger, interrupted only by the crackling flames and the quiet weeping of Panting, whose head was still pinned by Ruby Heart against his chin.

Then, there came a few more clicks.

“I’d suggest you put your guns down.”

Rarity risked a brief glance, and her pulse sped up. Shining and the guards had joined the standoff. They’d surrounded the traders, who now had to experience guns pointed at their heads. Shining himself had pressed the barrel of his pistol to Roma’s temple.

“Fuck.” Roma’s wide eyes darted about, taking in the new circumstances. They fell upon the earth pony mercenaries who had her crew at gunpoint. “Y-you bastard traitors. You’re siding with these boneheads?”

“Looks like it,” one of them replied casually. He might as well have been discussing the weather, for all the concern present in his voice.

The traders didn’t look half as confident now. Their guns were still aimed at Rarity. It seemed not a one dared to move. Rarity set her attention back on Roma, throwing as much of her hate into the look as she could. She wasn’t going to be backing down, especially now that she had help.

Roma got the message. Slowly, she lowered her rifle, then let it drop to the ground. “You’ll pay for this, Armor. Doo ain’t gonna protect you after I tell her—”

“Stuff it.” Shining sent a commanding look to the other traders, who dropped their weapons one by one. “There, that’s better.” He stepped back and raised his weapon to his shoulder, a position that Rarity knew would let him take aim faster than any of the traders could pick back up their guns. He looked to Rarity. “You gonna get off him now?”

When Rarity looked down at Panting, the stallion let out a pitiful squeal and squirmed. Oh, but she wanted to pull the trigger…

I am not a killer.

Snarling, she stood up and stepped off his chest. She cast one last glare at the traders, looked long and hard at Shining… and finally turned to walk back to her wagon. She ignored whatever words were said, her mind drifting into a rapid analysis of what had just happened. She’d defended herself, stopped something. A small part of her wanted to be proud of that fact, but the rest…

He’d touched her. She could still feel his fingers sliding along the line of her buttocks, down, down to…

Her knees started shaking when she reached the back of the wagon. Something was rising, something primal and consuming and loathsome, and there could be no stopping it. She scrambled into the wagon and squeezed herself into the small space between the boxes, arms wrapped about her knees as the shivers started up and down her back. She could still feel him.

She could feel Braeburn touching her.

Choking, she let her forehead touch her knees. Her eyes burned as she struggled to ignore the sensation of… of filth sweeping over her body. “It’s okay, Rarity. It’s o-okay. It’s over. Y-you stopped it.”

A gunshot echoed in her ears, a specter of pasts both far away and recent. She could hear Coco whimpering. And his hands. Braeburn’s hands. Panting’s hands. His breath on her neck. The stench of his proximity, the heartless desire in his eyes. She tried to press herself into the wood, to sink into darkness where nopony would find her, to hide from the lustful, ogling eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“Miss Belle?”

With a sound half-whimper, half-shout, she pushed against the gem crates and stared at the stallion watching her through the back of the wagon. “D-don’t touch me!”

“Easy! Easy.” Shining waved his hands in a calming motion, eyebrows raised as he leaned slightly backwards. “I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

She watched him, watched his every little motion. The tiny pony in the back of her mind whispered dire warnings that he was about to move in on her, that she needed to grab her weapons. End him. End him before he tried anything!

But Shining didn’t take a step closer. He actually moved back a little. He appeared at a loss, his ears lowered and uncertainty in his gaze.

Still shivering, Rarity squeezed her knees and pressed her chin to them. She closed her eyes and sucked in a ragged breath. “He touched me.”

Silence. What might he be thinking?

He’s thinking of how best to ‘comfort’ you, of course.

Shining isn’t like that.

Isn’t he? Do you really think that?

He helped me.

So he could get his hands on you.

Because he’s a good stallion.

Haven’t you figured it out yet? There’s no such thing!

He’s been nothing but polite.

Because he thinks you’ll spread your legs if he acts that way.

I don’t know that.

Yes, I do!

“It won’t happen again.”

She opened her eyes and raised her head. “What?”

Shining met her gaze. Gone was his uncertainty. Now there was only determination, his posture stiff and his brow furrowed. “It won’t happen again. Me and the boys will be watching very closely. If anyone so much as looks at you funny, we’ll take them down.”

Brushing tears from her eyes, Rarity tried to take control of her emotions. They bubbled and roiled, and the shaking wouldn’t stop. Still, she forced herself to ask, “W-what will you do with them in the meantime?”

He sighed and rested his arms on the back of the wagon’s gate. She tensed at how much closer he was, and he promptly stood back up. “Sorry. We took their weapons, but we can’t just leave them here. We’ve still got cargo to deliver, and it’ll be a lot harder without them. So all we can do is watch them. Me and the boys already agreed to change our shifts around so that there’s always two of us watching at any given time.”

She had to admit, that did make her feel a little more comfortable. Uncurling from the ball she’d contorted herself into, she settled on her knees and tried to shake the jitters away. She could still… feel the phantom touches on her body, but did her best not to think on them. “What about the bandits? Can you hunt them and watch the traders at the same time?”

At that, his shoulders sagged. “No. Best we can do is stick together and hope they don’t come after us.”

Curious. “I thought you wanted to find them?”

“Not anymore.” He turned to gaze into the desert, raising his hand to block the sunlight. “Only five of us are armed, and the other half of this caravan is as likely to turn on us as the bandits. The situation’s just too risky. Oh.” He turned back to her with a smile. “We’re gonna have them move some of those boxes to the other wagons. Weapons will go in here.”

“In here?” She glanced at the already tightly packed wagon. “And where will I sleep?”

“That’s why we’re moving some boxes.”

Oh, so they were leaving the weapons in her hands. She had to admit, she liked that idea. She’d have her very own arsenal. Would Roma and her lackeys dare come after her for revenge under such circumstances? If she hid the guns so that it would take time for them to locate them, it would give Rarity plenty of time to act if she needed to.

She returned his smile. “Thank you. It’ll be nice, not having to worry about fools like Panting.”

“That was incredible, by the way. You handled him like a pro.” He crossed his arms and smirked. “Guess the Bulletproof Heart isn’t a fake after all.”

Rarity slumped in place, her brief moment of energy fading fast. “I hate that name. What gave me away?”

He traded his smile for an uncertain frown. “I read the papers. White unicorn mare, they said. Then you mentioned something about getting involved with Griffon slavers. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.”

With a hand to her necklace, she took a slow breath to ease the tension in her chest. “Does anypony else suspect?”

“I don’t know. Don’t think so.” He glanced around the side of the wagon, perhaps checking for eavesdroppers. “I won’t say anything, if that’s what you want. But I have to ask one question.” He waited for her to nod. “What are you trying to accomplish out here?”

Accomplish? She wasn’t trying to accomplish anything. Where had this question come from?

But then again, perhaps it made sense. The rumors about her appeared to be spreading like wildfire. Ponies thought she might be some kind of hero, as ridiculous as that idea was to her. Wouldn’t it fit that a pony like Shining – someone who knew about survival in the dangerous places of the world – would want to understand her goal? He might think she was in it for some asinine dream of glory.

Glory. There was nothing glorious about her life now. It was wrought with constant danger, what with random stallions trying to grope her or worse and crazy mares trying to kill her. How many times had she almost died since leaving Spurhoof? Too many, if she had a say in the matter. Somehow, she didn’t think she did.

At last meeting his gaze, she answered quietly. “I’m just trying to survive. Nothing more, nothing less.”

He said nothing for a time, merely studying her as if she were a sad specimen. At last, he turned away. “I hope that, someday, you’ll find something more than that to live for.”

When he’d gone, she leaned back against the boxes and tried to relax her tense body. “Me too.”

She was left alone for only a couple of seconds before a new, disconcerting thought reached her weary mind: for the first time ever, she’d acknowledged the title. Bulletproof Heart. She’d made no attempt to deny it. Did that mean that she’d come to accept it?

“Oh, Luna.” She pressed her hands to her face and groaned. “I’m being transformed into somepony else.”

She didn’t want to be the Bulletproof Heart! She would have to correct… No, there was nothing to correct. Shining wasn’t using the title loosely. He’d not said it again after the one time. He seemed to recognize her reluctance to adopt it. She wouldn’t lecture him for a crime he’d yet to commit.

But would he commit it in time?

Depression and worry sank into her once more. Already, she could feel Panting’s hand running down around her tail, and Braeburn’s groping her breast. Shuddering, she rubbed her necklace tightly and welcomed its cooling, calming effect on her mind.

She had no doubt that the old nightmares would be coming back tonight.
> Episode 12: Raising Barriers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


11th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


Ever since Rarity had lashed out at Panting Dingo, the days had been tense. The caravanners, unarmed and always under the watchful gaze of at least two mercenaries, gave her a wide berth. Most avoided looking at her, only to cast sinister scowls when they thought she wouldn’t notice. Only Roma kept her revulsion out in the open, freely glaring at Rarity with every given opportunity. As much as Rarity wanted to avoid them, hiding in her wagon would only confirm their backwards views of her as a stuck up, useless princess of a pony. Or a coward. She guided the Thick Scales whenever she could and pulled her weight, determined to not be cowed by the passive aggression.

The afternoon rest periods were easier. There was no obligation for her to ‘hang out’ with the clods. As the afternoon was exceedingly hot even in the Warm Season, she took her meals in the wagon, often accompanied by one of the mercenaries – Shining had been wary of her being alone. She didn’t mind, as despite their brutal appearances, every one of them were amiable. Granted, it was obvious the one named Grape Shot was developing an infatuation with her, which was worrying. Still, he tried to be gentlecoltish about it – as gentlecoltish as one could be with minimal awareness of genteel behavior, that is. She tolerated his hopeful gazes. His approach was certainly better that than Panting’s methods.

Yet she couldn’t help feeling intensely uncomfortable. She watched their motions carefully, always waiting for the moment that they would try something. They never did, and her continued scrutiny left her feeling guilty, but that didn’t prevent it. None of them said anything, but she knew they noticed. Especially Shining Armor. With every passing day, she felt less and less secure.

She hated these feelings. If only they’d go away, she might be able to relax for a change. But they wouldn’t, and the endless fear lingering just under the surface of her consciousness ate away at her patience. When they encountered the periodic rest camps of the Rambling Company – thankfully not raided like the first – Rarity made no attempt to visit them. Hired stallions living a full year with nothing for company but each other and the sands, getting their first look at a young mare in ages? No thanks.

Rarity was enthralled by her first sighting of the Lonely Mountain. It suited its name perfectly, rising high above the salt flats and dunes like a monolithic golem. They’d snuck up on the geographical aberration in darkness, and it crept into their sight with the steady rise of the sun. It was perhaps another three days away, but there could be no mistaking it.

Everypony knew of the Lonely Mountain. Legend had it that once, back when the vast desert was green and fertile, Princess Celestia had considered moving the capital of Equestria there. Today it served a less noble but imminently practical purpose as the primary rest and resupply juncture of the Great Salt Plains. The Southroad and the Suntread met there, the one place guaranteed to offer safety and recovery for weary travelers on the desert roads.

And it seemed so far away.

“Don’t look so glum.” Shining Armor chuckled at her glower, riding along on his Dust Devil with gun in hand. “This means we’re more than halfway to Hoofington.”

That was relieving. Mooisville was only another two weeks north of Hoofington. Her family was that much closer, and she felt a renewed hope that she’d make it there in time. Taking the Southroad had likely saved her two weeks of travel, not accounting for having to move at the caravan’s speed.

Eyeing the mountain from beside her wagon’s sand lizard, Rarity couldn’t help marveling at the size of the thing. Its peak reached the clouds. The clouds themselves were a wonder, rare as they were out here. They were thin and didn’t go far from the mountain, undoubtedly created via the waterfalls and pools said to be prolific up there.

Rarity had to remind herself that she wasn’t here to sightsee. “And how long will we be staying for resupply?”

Scratching the stubble of his chin, Shining shrugged. “The physical resupply? A few hours at most. But it’s best to relax in the caverns for a night or two. Gives the lizards a change to recoup, and gives us the opportunity to rest.”

Pursing her lips, Rarity looked ahead to the traders leading the other wagons. “And what of our less-than-amiable friends?”

“Not much we can do about them,” he replied, losing some of his casual demeanor. “I’ll talk to the Chief Scout, let her know what’s up. I go to see her every time I’m here, anyway. Other than that? Keep your distance, stick to crowded areas. Keep me or one of the boys with you as much as you can.”

Not an ideal solution, but Rarity supposed she couldn’t be picky. She guessed there wouldn’t be much of a policing force in the Lonely Mountain, so her best bet for safety would be to stick with Shining and his fellow mercenaries. A shame. After spending so much time with ponies who hated her, she could have used some alone time. Too bad travelling on her own was still out of the question, what with rogue bandits roaming the area.

But she was getting ahead of herself. The Lonely Mountain was still several days away, after all.





The mountain was much larger up close than it had seemed at a distance. Which was saying something, because at a distance it looked huge. It took up all of Rarity’s vision as she craned her neck back. How strange that something this massive rose out of the solid earth so abruptly. There were no foothills, no steady slope. Just a sheer cliff of a grey mountain spearing the sunset-pink sky.

Grey. Not even the same color as the desert around it.

The wagon train’s approach brought them towards the bottom of a large waterfall, the first of its kind that Rarity had ever witnessed. It was a beautiful sight, made all the more so by the tropical trees and shrubs that surrounded the small lake it fed into. True to the stories, the water seemed to go nowhere, and Rarity couldn’t help wondering where it all went. Sadly, they didn’t approach the lake itself but instead moved towards a sandstone building nestled against the mountain.

They were still some ten minutes away when a figure launched from a cliff high above the structure. It glided to them, and as Rarity squinted she noticed more figures watching from the same cliff. As it grew closer, she recognized the pony to be a thestral. It hovered ahead of the wagon train and called out to them. Rarity couldn’t make out the words, but apparently Roma heard just fine, because she promptly responded back with their identity and destination.

Rarity turned her attention to the mercenary currently riding near her, a stallion around her father’s age by the name of Tiro Caliente. “So what happens now?”

Tiro responded with a thick Mareami accent. “Now the scouts inspect us for contraband. We’ll stop at the house ahead, sí? Once they give us the go ahead, we’ll enter the mountain and rest our weary pezuñas.”

Rarity had no idea how the ‘scouts’ were supposed to know contraband when they saw it, but it wasn’t really a concern. She was just a hitchhiker, for all intents and purposes. Any wrongdoings would be attributed to Roma and her crew. But then, they were hauling gemstones grown by the Pie Family, so it wasn’t like they had anything illegitimate.

The thestral flew back to the structure against the mountain, the wagon train following at its ponderous pace. As they got closer, Rarity was able to make out more defining characteristics. The building was some five stories high, which put it in rivalry with the taller buildings of Manehattan – at least, as Rarity had heard of the buildings there. Since she’d yet to visit Manehattan, and Mooisville had nothing taller than three stories, this was by far the largest structure Rarity had ever laid eyes on.

The mountain itself made up the primary support, with the structure appearing to lean backwards against the surface. As a consequence, every floor was smaller than the one below it, although Rarity couldn’t properly judge scale at her low angle. The whole thing was made of large sandstone bricks, with small windows appearing periodically, and battlements on the top from which ponies armed with rifles peered at them.

By the time they pulled to a stop outside the wide double doors, a trio of earth ponies and a unicorn had stepped out to greet them. Roma met them and immediately started talking business, a stone-faced Shining Armor at her back to make sure she kept her story straight. Panting Dingo hobbled out of the wagon he’d spent much of the trip lying in and was promptly ushered inside by one of the earth ponies, most likely to get that leg healed. Grape Shot was right behind them.

Scanning the mountain, Rarity noted the gaping cave to the left of the building. With the sun beating down on her back and a desperate desire to get away from the traders, she turned to Tiro and asked, “I don’t need to be here for the entire inspection process, do I?”

He shrugged, not taking his eyes off the exchange between Roma and the inspectors. “Just tell them you’re a tagalong, not a trader. They’ll check your bolsa and let you in.”

Tiro’s words proved true, and after a brief inspection of her backpack she was permitted to go inside. Not through the cave, that was apparently for wagons, but through the front door. Tiro went with her, if only to make sure she didn’t get cornered later by one of the traders. The interior was drab and largely undecorated save for a few tapestries displaying a pair of thestral wings splayed out from behind the Lonely Mountain.

“It’s the emblem of the Scouts of Canterhorn,” Tiro explained as he led her upstairs to what would be their rooms. “Their order is said to predate the Day of Burning. They say the Lonely Mountain was called Canter Mountain in those days. So, Scouts of Canterhorn.”

That was news to Rarity. She’d heard of the Scouts only rarely, and never by their full name. She certainly hadn’t known about their supposed origins. She wondered if Spike would confirm the story?

Their rooms were on the fourth floor. Tiro said the Scouts liked their guests to be high up both to protect them from potential attackers and to make escape harder should they find something out. A bored looking officer guided them to a hallway and assigned rooms for the entire caravan. Alas, they weren’t as private as Rarity had hoped, each room designed to hold up to four ponies at a time. She would have to share a room with the mercenaries. She thought this would prove a problem, seeing as she didn’t want to force one of them to stay with the traders. What if the traders ganged up on him or something?

Her worries proved unfounded when the officer explained that Shining Armor had a special suite always reserved for him. This struck her as curious, and she wondered just what circumstances made that possible. Maybe something to do with his former military service?

Then Rarity learned that the elevated waters in the mountain allowed for indoor plumbing, and she was once again treated to that incredible feat of pony engineering: the shower. A lukewarm shower, but still a shower. She spent more than an hour getting the grime of weeks of desert traveling off of her, drowning her fears and anxieties in the sheer joy of being clean again. Upon leaving she wore one of the extra sets of clothes she’d created at the Pie house and Limestone’s coat. She also thanked Tiro for his immense patience. He took it like a champ, bless his heart.

A glance out the window revealed that the inspection of the wagons was ongoing. She also found that the traders’ weapons had already been moved into the room, apparently by Shining Armor himself. She felt good about that, but then she learned something else: Shining had moved all her things to his room. It seemed he intended to let her have it while he stayed with the mercenaries in this uncomfortable barrack.

Rarity had no intention of permitting that.

Against Tiro’s suggestions, she made her way downstairs to find the former military officer. Tiro followed behind, clearly flustered by her constant desire to be on the move. She idly wondered why he didn’t put his hoof down and make her stay put. He certainly had the ability. It never happened though, and instead he followed her around like an overgrown child who wished the adults would let him loose.

A large portion of the main building had been repurposed as living space for the Scouts and their visitors. It had grown to be a small community in its own right, albeit one built around a militaristic lifestyle. The cafeteria provided all their culinary needs, so no restaurants existed, and the only place in the building with a commercial aspect to it was a small bar. There was a section made into recreational facilities, but nothing like she might expect to find in a proper town.

Shining Armor was nowhere to be found, but one Scout familiar with the ex-Major pointed her in the direction of the caves. It only made sense that the Scout House would have direct access to the caverns in the mountain, but whatever would Shining be doing in there?

Rarity faltered with her very first step into the caves. Her eyes dazzled at a magnificent collection of hues and illuminations as she took in an entire cave structure made up of nothing but crystals. “Oh, wow…” She gaped at the beauty of it all, not noticing the drool on the corner of her lip until she realized Tiro was watching her.

With a furious blush, she wiped her mouth clean and resumed walking. “I’d heard of the Crystal Caves, but I had no idea they’d be so lovely.”

Tiro followed, paying far less attention to his surroundings. “Sí, muy bonito. Too bad it ain’t worth much.”

She gaped at him. “Not worth much? Look at this place. Do you know what kind of dresses and jewelry I could craft with fabulous specimens such as these?”

“They lose their colors and brilliance when taken from the mountain,” he explained. His tone was awfully dull and conversational considering he’d just shattered Rarity’s heart. “Just like the ones in the Crystal Empire. Whatever magic once powered them, it’s muerto save for in places like this.”

“Oh.” Her ears drooped as she took another look around at her magnificent surroundings. “I guess that explains why nopony has bothered to mine this place.”

“They did once.” Tiro shrugged. “At least, that’s what the Scouts claim.”

They walked on in silence, their hoofsteps strangely muffled despite the crystal ground. The caverns were being used extensively for supply storage, with several of the larger caverns filled with boxes of preserved foodstuffs. They climbed up smooth, shallow slopes that, after almost an hour, eventually brought them back outdoors to a cliffside. The wide open space was so big it actually had a corn field, currently being maintained by a pair of thestrals. Tiro explained that there were over a dozen similar farms all over the mountain, which made it possible for the Scouts to feed themselves all year and still provide for travelers passing through on the Southroad and Suntread. She was quite impressed by the efficient use of space.

They entered the mountain again from a different tunnel. Tiro was anxious to get back. The inspection would soon be over and he didn’t want to risk the guns being found by the traders. Rarity convinced him to let her search this final level of the mountain before they would return. As fortune would have it, it was all she needed.

They found Shining Armor in a large cavern. A waterfall entered the place through the ceiling, filling a pool in the center of the cave that ran out into some low-ceiling river. They almost didn’t see him amongst all the water. He sat on the opposite shore, staring at an unusually smooth plane of pale purple crystal. He appeared to be deep in thought, his lips set in a sad frown and his shoulders slumped.

Rarity shared a look with Tiro. He shrugged and gestured for her to go on before turning for the exit. There was no way for her to know if he intended to wait for them or was leaving her to Shining’s watch. It could go either way, really.

The idea of interrupting Shining’s apparent melancholy suddenly didn’t appeal to her. What if he wanted to be alone? She didn’t want to intrude. She hadn’t liked it when Coco and Cranky kept bugging her back in Spurhoof, now had she?

But then, she had come to appreciate the gesture. Maybe Shining would too. At least, that’s what she hoped as she quietly walked around the pool. Her hoofsteps, though still mysteriously muffled, seemed obnoxiously loud in her ears. At least the waterfall masked the noise quite a bit. Keeping a respectable distance, she sat facing the wall as he was.

She said nothing at first, instead following his gaze. The purple crystal was so smooth that she could see her own reflection, and far be it for Rarity Belle not to check her appearance in a readily available mirror. Her brown pants constituted the only exception to her jeans-based lower clothing, whereas her button-up shirt was a plain white cotton, the top open just enough to reveal the tan undershirt. To her satisfaction, her necklace remained perfectly hidden. She took a moment to tilt her wide-brimmed hat into a proper position and straightened Limestone’s large coat.

The only disappointing element was her mane and tail. They were still far more luxurious than those of most ponies, but the weeks of travel were beginning to take their toll at last. She suspected that proper mane care products wouldn’t be plentiful in a place like the Lonely Mountain, and this would only get worse the longer she traveled. A pity, but she had far more important things to worry about than split ends.

When she realized she’d overlooked Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, she felt a wave of nausea. She really was getting used to them, wasn’t she? They’d practically become an extension of her person by now. What would she have thought about that a year ago?

Abruptly, she realized that she had an audience of one. Through the reflective surface, she noticed Shining Armor staring at her. Not the stare of a lovesick colt or a hungry predator, but of a stallion flummoxed by what he was witnessing. She gave him a weak smile via the reflection, abruptly feeling foolish. What proper drifter spent time fussing over her mane?

Shining, his brow furrowed, spoke hesitantly. “What are you doing out here?” He paused just long enough for her to comprehend the question before pressing the query. “Are you running from something? Chasing something? What is it that makes a pony like you the Bulletproof Heart?”

What made the Bulletproof Heart tick. She frowned to herself, wondering how much she should reveal. It didn’t take long for her to come to the conclusion that she trusted Shining enough for the truth. Most of it, at least.

So… “I once had to protect myself from a pony not unlike Panting. I was afraid and confused and didn’t know what to do, but I had an opportunity to do something.” An unpleasant sensation swelled up inside of her at the memory of Braeburn’s hands on her. She stared at her reflection, feeling at her arms as she did. There was muscle there now. Far more than there had been. “He wasn’t as fortunate as Panting.”

“Was he an Apple?” At her raised eyebrow, Shining shrugged. “I heard about the caravan.”

Of course, how could she forget? Stupid newspaper. “Yes. And now the Gang is on my tail.” The Bad Apples. The name alone left a bad taste in her mouth, and she fought the urge to spit. Instead, she pulled out Silver Lining, raising it up to examine it carefully. “In Rockstead I learned that they’ve taken some ponies important to me.”

She aimed at her reflection, going for the heart. Her bulletproof heart. The Bulletproof Heart. If she killed that strange, violent new version of herself, could she still protect her family? She didn’t think so… but oh, how she longed for a way to do it. She grit her teeth as the gun lowered once more. Someday, perhaps. But today, she had to be what ponies expected her to be. “I won’t let them have their way,” she growled, more to herself than Shining. “They can chase me all they want, from the Everfree Sea to the Atlantian, and I’ll cope. But they’re threatening my family now. I have to draw the line somewhere.”

Shining crossed his arms and studied his own reflection, seeming lost in thought. Rarity took the time to brood, her eyes on the holy sigil Marble had given her while her free hand rubbed the necklace beneath her shirt. She wondered if the Sisters were paying any attention to this conversation. Probably not, but one could hope.

“I have a sister.” Shining’s gaze didn’t waver, though his eyes betrayed a deep sadness. “She’s a little know-it-all. Smart, but also convinced that she’s always right. Prove she’s wrong and she’ll hold it against you for weeks.” The corner of his lip twitched up at his own words, but this did nothing to ease his mood. “I love her more than I can say. She was my best friend, despite being ten years my junior.”

Rarity found it a curious coincidence that her own sister was of a similar age difference from herself. She didn’t let her thoughts drift, however, instead focusing all her attention on Shining’s confession. “What happened to her?”

He snorted, eyes narrowing. “She was obsessed with Princess Luna. Was convinced that the Church’s teachings were wrong, that the Princess still resides in Equestria. We thought it was just a phase, a kid’s infatuation, but then…” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “One day we woke up and she was gone. She’d left a note saying she was going to find the Princess.”

“Oh, my.” That seemed a bit extreme. How could anypony, even a young filly, think that such a thing was a good decision? “Did you ever find her?”

He shook his head, hands limp in his lap. “We searched all over, but she was gone. She never came home.” A long, heavy sigh. “Mom was ready to abandon everything and go searching the wilds. I convinced her and Dad to stay home. And me?” His eyes met hers through the reflection of the crystal. He looked so… weary. “I gave up my military career. Here I am, years later. Still searching.” He turned his attention to his own reflection, going silent once more.

Rarity’s first thought was to be critical of Shining’s little sister. It seemed like such a selfish thing, to run away like that in search of some childish notion. And yet, when she turned her eyes to her reflection, a wave of guilt washed over her. Had she not done exactly the same thing? She could just see her parents and sister sitting around at home the day after she’d left, worried and miserable. And when the wagon train she’d taken to Manehattan had been attacked… What if she’d not been so lucky?

She would have disappeared, as surely as Shining’s sister. Her parents would have had no way of knowing what had become of her. Would her father have started searching Equestria, as Shining was now?

She felt like such a fool.

“She’s dead.”

The sudden declaration pulled a gasp from her lungs. She looked to Shining, directly this time, but his head was bowed once more. The sadness was back, as strong as ever. “She is?”

“Probably.” He stared at his hands, as if expecting them to have something wonderful and disappointed to find otherwise. “I know the odds. I honestly gave up hope a long time ago. If Twily’s out there, I’d have found her by now.”

“Now, wait.” Rarity reached as if to put a hand on his shoulder, but he was out of reach. She hoped the gesture alone would be helpful. “You don’t know for certain. She might be—”

“Please, save your breath.” He turned away roughly. “I can’t go home to my parents empty handed, but the best hope I have now is finding out… finding out exactly what happened to her.” He tilted his head over his shoulder, but didn’t meet her gaze. “Go home, Rarity. Go back to your family, where you belong. Keep them safe. Do that, and the Bulletproof Heart’s story might be worth remembering.”

He stood up, brushing at his pants as if to rid them of dust. “I’ll be outside. Let me know when you’re ready to head back down.” She watched him go, heart heavy with unpleasant thoughts.

The idea that ponies would remember the Bulletproof Heart instead of Rarity Belle left a hole in her chest.





Spike,

Imagine my surprise when I learned that the Lonely Mountain has a post office. A post office, but not a bank? For shame! But then, it’s not exactly a thriving metropolis, is it?

Please accept my most sincere and heartfelt apology for the brief and blunt nature of my message to you when I was in Rockstead, and for not coming to visit when I had the opportunity. I have recently been made aware of just how tragic it can be to wait for news that may never come, and I should have treated your patience with greater respect. I promise that I will come by to visit at my very first opportunity, and it will be a longer stay than just a couple days.

I am on my way home, to Mooisville. I have reason to believe my family is in danger. I intend to rescue them from the clutches of the foul villains, even if they aren’t aware of the situation yet. How I shall do so, I can’t be sure. Something will come to me. Regardless of the solution, there is no doubt that your gift will see its fair bit of use in the coming months.

I know I should keep running. I know that charging head first into battle against the Bad Apple Gang is foolish and may cost me my life. But they have my family, and I cannot tolerate that. There are boundaries not to be crossed, and the Apples have run wildly over them! It infuriates me more and more every day, such that sometimes I have difficulty maintaining my cultured image. Yet I shall persevere somehow, and with my hide intact.

But what after? When my family is free, they will no longer be safe in Mooisville. I am at a loss of what to do. I’m not even sure how they will react when they see me, their darling, prissy snob of a daughter wearing jeans and toting handguns like a seasoned drifter. What if they are offended by my new personae? Mayhap they’d want nothing to do with me. Such a result would be

No. I apologize. I’m starting to use this letter to vent my worries. I don’t want to use it for something like that. These letters should be positive, and I am spoiling it. Again.

I have to end this, for my wagon train will be leaving soon. But, oh, how I hate to leave on such a sour note! I’ll try to cheer up for when I next write to you from Hoofington. Until then, I will maintain my faith. In myself, in the Sisters, and the future. The Bad Apples haven’t beaten this young mare yet!

Your friend,

Rarity Belle

Rarity reread the letter, guilt building up within her. She really should have visited Spike after leaving Elysium. If only there was more time, she might have penned a letter to the Pie Sisters as well. That idea was soundly crushed by the shifting, grumbling presence of Solar Stalker, the fourth and least amiable of the mercenaries in her group. The stallion had no interest whatsoever in her desire to spend time writing letters, constantly tapping his booted hoof.

She huffed at him before turning to the postmaster, a smug-looking pegasus mare. She took the letter and rolled it up, moving quickly but with a carefulness Rarity could appreciate. “Don’t you worry, miss. Soon as our unicorn gets back on shift, I’ll have him send it to the nearest bank.” She’d already seen Rarity’s Message Orb and knew exactly who to send it to. Rarity had to wonder who she thought the message was really going to, what with that mischievous expression on her.

“All right, we done? Let’s get out of here.” Solar Stalker turned on his heel and walked out of the office at a brisk pace, not bothering to check if she was following. It seemed he had little interest in tact, a point Rarity had been sure to note in her earliest encounters with the drifter. He couldn’t be too bad, though. After all, he had sided with her against Roma and her traders. Exactly why was a mystery given his apparent irritation with her, but beggars can’t be choosers. A gruff and direct individual, but not necessarily mean.

They left the post office, which was situated on the top floor so that pegasus messengers could more easily access it. The others were getting the wagons hitched up, and no doubt they’d be waiting on her soon. Rarity had no intention of being a bother, at least not to Shining, Tiro, and Grape, so she didn’t protest Solar’s fast walk. Their things had already been placed back in the wagons, so it was just a matter of meeting them outside.

As they walked, Rarity took in her surroundings one last time. She might not get another chance to visit the Lonely Mountain, so it seemed prudent to take it in. The Scout House itself was clearly old, if the worn bricks and visibly reconstructed parts were any indication. It was a shame that the place was so terribly unadorned. For a place so memorable in history and function, one would think the Scouts would have given it a suitably matching appearance. Well, if they couldn’t be bothered to create a proper aesthetic, she would simply have to remember the Lonely Mountain for its natural quality. It had plenty of that to spare.

The sun seemed brighter than usual today, its hot rays descending upon the two of them the instant they stepped outdoors. Rarity adjusted her hat to accommodate, but didn’t complain. What good would it do? Months of trekking this foul desert, alone or in a group, had adapted her well to the ever-present heat. How horribly she’d reacted to it during those first few days in Long Horn’s caravan, and they’d not even been travelling the desert at that time.

Should she be proud of her adaptation? On the one hand, she’d grown stronger, more resistant. Sturdier. Yet, on the other, this new proclivity for shrugging off the scorching rays of day served to indicate just how far she’d fallen.

The last of the wagons was just pulling out of the caves when Rarity and Solar met the caravan. The traders didn’t acknowledge their presence in any way, like they were little more than mirages of the desert heat. She took this in stride, finding no need to fret over the opinions of such rubes. Taking the reins of her wagon’s Thick Scale from Grape, she led the creature in line at the back of the wagon train. Grape and Solar mounted their Dust Devils and took to the front of the caravan.

And so it was that Rarity found herself going north once more. They travelled at a calm, easy pace that filled her with fresh anxiety. If only she could trust herself to survive out there, she’d have purchased a mount of her own and ridden beyond the horizon already!

But she would be patient. One hand pulling the reins lightly, the other rubbing the nub on Silver Lining’s grip, she reminded herself over and over that this was the only reliable way to travel, at least across the desert. Soon she’d be in familiar territory, and she’d have the opportunity to travel on her own.

A couple hours passed before they rounded the mountain to properly go north. A few hours past that, she turned around to observe the Lonely Mountain, if only so that she might ingrain its image into her memory. It truly was a majestic sight, still towering high over them despite the distance already formed. It would provide a grand alternative. She’d need stories to tell Sweetie, after all, and somehow brutal gunfights didn’t seem appropriate material.

Her eyes caught something, a speck darting out of the higher reaches of the mountain. It flew across the sky at a rapid pace, making its way northwest. A pegasus courier, no doubt, though even a pegasus couldn’t cross the Plains easily. The idea brought her back to another pegasus, one she had lost in the vast desert. Now that she seriously considered it, would Yearling have been in any danger given the speed of flight? With little to weigh her down, it was conceivable she might have simply flown at high altitude out of the Great Salt Plains.

Even so, Rarity didn’t permit herself to linger on that possibility. Getting her hopes up would be foolish. With no small amount of guilt, she turned back to the north and pushed the archaeologist out of her mind.

She had her own problems to deal with.





Something shoved against Rarity’s shoulder, jarring her awake from terrible dreams of being chased through crystal tunnels by faceless stallions. She went from unconsciousness to alert in seconds, and before she had time to think she’d pressed Silver Lining’s barrel beneath Tiro’s chin. Fortunately for him, she recognized him in time to keep from pulling the trigger.

Eyes wide as dinner plates, the drifter froze in his awkward position leaning over the wagon’s back panel. “Easy, señorita. I like my head right where it is, sí?”

The barrel didn’t move. She sat up and hissed in his face. “In that case, you’d best have a very good reason for sneaking into my wagon while I’m asleep.”

“Are bandits a good enough reason?”

She blinked. “Bandits?”

He nodded. Very slowly. “Coming from the west. Got about ten minutes. No time for chit-chat, sí?”

Sucking down a slow breath, Rarity pulled the gun away. “My apologies, Tiro. I’m… not fond of being touched.” She’d think on how terrible her reaction was and what it meant for her state of mind later. “Let me get the guns.”

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, though there was a hint of relief in his tone. “Just hurry. We need to be ready for los banditos sooner than later.”

Bandits. The same ones Shining had been looking for? She went to a spot in the very center of her wagon, carefully moving aside some small gem crates. Finding the one she was after, she popped open the lid to reveal all the guns that had been confiscated from the traders. As loath as she was to give Roma and her thugs arms, they’d already agreed that an event like this called for everypony to be ready to fight. She only hoped the traders kept their guns pointed in the right direction.

She passed weapons to Tiro, who in turn handed them out to whatever ponies were behind him. She spotted the traders hurrying past as they were armed, but couldn’t get a grasp of their mood. With the last gun handed off, she checked her ammo for Silver Lining and Ruby Heart before going outside, all thoughts of dreams and sleep long gone.

The setting sun was half-hidden by the horizon, casting the world in a low red hue. Rarity eyed the west but saw nothing. Turning her attention to the wagons, she saw traders and drifters alike set in defensive positions, all watching the sun’s gradual fall. Spotting Shining at the second wagon, she hurried to meet him.

Crouched by the wagon wheel, she asked, “Where are they?”

“In the sun.” Noting her confusion, he nodded around the corner and let her by. “They’re using the sun itself as a blind. If you don’t look right at it, you won’t see them. We’re lucky Solar has such good eyes, else they’d have started firing before we even noticed their approach.”

Taking up his former position, she squinted into the sunlight. All she could make out were a few blurry specks shifting where the horizon met the fiery orb. She pulled back and rubbed her eyes to get the glare out. “Do we know how many?”

“No.” He hefted his pistol, expression grim. “But we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Get behind one of the Thick Scales, fire over it.”

She turned to the sand lizard, her stomach churning. “Y-you want me to use Sarsaparilla for cover?”

Apparently missing her hesitation, Shining brushed her aside and got back into position, narrowed eyes set on the sun. Rarity considered objecting to his idea, but after a tense moment swallowed her words and went to the creature’s side.

Sarsaparilla, typically an off-white green, had adjusted her scales so that they matched the yellow-brown sands around them. She’d also hunkered down, legs squeezed close to her body with head and tail turned away from the coming threat. A well-trained lizard, it seemed. Rarity hesitated, gently reaching out to scratch the creature’s head just behind the muzzle. Curious green eyes opened to glance at her, and Sarsaparilla trilled. It was a very deep, heavy sound, very different from what Piecazzo offered.

She cringed. Why did she have to think of Piecazzo? “It’s alright,” she whispered, both to herself and Sarsaparilla. “We’ll both get through this, won’t we?”

The Thick Scale hummed, the sound reverberating deep within her chest, and closed her eyes once more. It was as if she didn’t care about the coming battle at all. Perhaps she didn’t. Whether that was a good thing or not, Rarity couldn’t be certain.

With another deep breath, she settled into a one-knee crouch and looked over Sarsaparilla’s backside. With the sand lizard hunkered down in its defensive posture, she could just aim Silver Lining and Ruby Heart over the creature’s back. She could even rest her arms on those wide, tough scales, though they were uncomfortably hot for that. The position would have been far better suited for a rifle.

Eleven ponies stood ready to defend the Pie Sisters’ gems. Four were clearly veteran combatants she could trust. Six were traders of questionable value in combat, none of whom could be trusted to fire only at the bandits, and then one of them was already injured. Then there was her, the so-called Bulletproof Heart. As much as she hated the name, she prayed to the Night Mother that it wasn’t all nonsense.

Seconds passed. A calm breeze blew sand across the defenders’ faces. Rarity could only look into the sun for short periods of time, but she could see the bandits more clearly now. She did a quick headcount before turning away. Seven of them. Was that all? Perhaps the sun was blinding her worse than she’d believed. That or the bandits were desperate. Their very survival depended on successful and frequent raids, and if they’d gone too long without…

This might not prove much of a fight.

“Easy, ladies,” Roma called out. “We can take them.”

Another peering glance. Yes, only seven. They had to know they’d been spotted, but still they came on. They had to be desperate, there could be no other explanation. Rarity would do her part, but in truth she wasn’t sure if she was even needed. She focused her vision down the Ruby Heart’s sights, knowing it would give her the best aim, but couldn’t look for too long. She had to admit, coming from the direction of the sun was a smart strategy.

Sarsaparilla snorted, lifted her head. Rarity, blinking away sunspots, watched as the sand lizard stared east with a low rumble. Wondering what had caught her attention, she looked in the same direction. She promptly offered to the sky a most unladylike curse.

“Behind us!”

Another group of bandits five ponies strong charged from the east! They had crossed over the nearest dune just as Rarity had turned to look, and would be entering firing range within seconds. She turned about, weapons ready, but it was one of the traders who fired first with a long rifle. A miss, apparently.

Rarity took a closer look at the sand lizards they rode and felt her heart drop into her hooves. Those were all Leapers! One of the beasts jumped from atop the dune and spread its wings wide, gliding for the caravan with alarming speed as its rider took aim with a long-barreled pistol.

Shots rang out. Silver Lining barked. Ruby Heart roared. The bandit she’d been aiming for toppled, though she couldn’t tell if it was from her shot. She heard a few deep sounds, like a ‘thunk’, and realized they were bullets striking Sarsaparilla. Her throat clenched as she cast a quick look, but was relieved to see the shots bouncing off the creature’s thick scales. They’d need something much bigger than that if they were going to—

More thunks reminded her that she was dangerously exposed, and she scrambled for the nearest wagon. She fired blindly at the oncoming group as she did, swearing under her breath as something bit into her arm. Just a scratch, but enough to make her redouble her efforts. Turning as she moved, she screamed as a Leaper came directly for her! Its orange legs were a blur, sand kicking up in its wake as it opened a tooth-filled mouth wide. Its thestral rider bore her fangs in a wicked grin, shotgun aimed and at the ready.

There was no way she’d stop both of them with just her guns. Rarity did the only thing she could think of, desperately hoping she remembered the spell correctly. No time to doubt! Her horn flashed and a thin blue shield snapped up just as the Leaper lunged. The creature struck her shield, bouncing back hard.

Then its rider fired the shotgun.

It was like being hit with a sledgehammer. That was on fire. If Rarity didn’t know better, she’d think her horn had just split in two. Stumbling, she struggled to see through the spots in her vision. The Leaper was recovering, the rider probably reloading. With the world swaying and her knees wobbling, Rarity fired wildly. Within seconds, the Leaper was on the ground and her guns’ hammers were clicking uselessly.

Her vision cleared in time to see the rider climb to her hooves, apparently untouched by the bullet storm thanks to her mount. Gone was the pleased smile, replaced by a vicious snarl as she raised the shotgun. Rarity tried to grab the two barrels in her magic, but was rewarded only by a searing agony that brought her to her knees. No, not a magic overdose, not now! She looked up and opened her mouth to cry out—

The bandit’s head snapped sideways, blood splashing across the desert sands as she toppled. A moment later, Shining Armor was standing over her. “Rarity, you okay? Rarity!”

His voice echoed in her skull, bouncing around like a hammer thrown wild. Even so, she nodded. “I’m fine.” She could barely make out her words. The little pony in the back of her head was running circles, screaming No, I am not, fine, there is nothing about this situation that is fine! Ignoring that annoying little voice, she focused on reloading her guns. Her hands trembled as she worked, but somehow she replaced Silver Lining’s cylinder without trouble. Ruby Heart wouldn’t be so easy, and she hadn’t the time to waste.

Shining was already gone, fighting his own battles. Shots rang out in an explosive, chaotic medley, backed by a chorus of shouts and screams and roars. Sand billowed about in a fresh wind that bit into her cheek. Rarity stumbled to her hooves and saw that the fight on the east side was already over, bodies lying about the sands. Taking no time to identify them, she turned back to Sarsaparilla and almost fell in the act. Strangely, the sand lizard hadn’t moved. It just lay there, eyes half closed and appearing for all the world to be taking a nap. The sight was strangely calming.

With the world still rocking from the fire in her horn, she wobbled her way to the lizard and looked to the ensuing battle. In the midst of a blue glow, she could see there wasn’t much left to do. Only three bandits remained, and they were turning tail and fleeing. Make that two; she watched in numb silence as one of the lagging bandits dropped from his seat and struck the ground, unmoving. And just like that, the fight was over. It couldn’t have lasted more than a couple minutes.

Her gaze shifted to the source of the glow, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Shining Armor stood in the middle of the drifters, his horn offering a brilliant glow. A shield had been formed, but not like her meagre little wall. This was a solid dome, the barrier clear as glass and no less solid in appearance. Bullets lined the sand all around its perimeter, giving credence to its strength. If she could produce something like that…

The shield fell. Tiro turned his attention to Grape Shot, who was nursing a wound in his hip. Solar ran back to the wagons. Shining watched the bandits run, lips in a thin line and a fire in his eyes. Rarity wanted to ask about his shield spell, but right now she couldn’t work up the energy. She slumped against the apparently unharmed Sarsaparilla and let out a slow breath, taking with it all her tension. As she put her guns away, she realized it was so much nicer fighting with allies.

The tension came right back. No, it isn’t nice. It’s horrible and all the more scary because your allies have just as much of a chance at dying as you do! So don’t try to make this sound like a ‘good’ fight, because there is no such thing!

“Shut up,” she growled under her breath, rubbing at her burning forehead. The last thing she wanted was an argument with her old self. She tried to stand, only to sway as the world started spinning again. “H-he must have fired both barrels, the jerk…” Stumbling back to keep from falling, she turned to survey the damage. The Leaper lay in a heap before her, its thestral rider only a couple feet closer. More bodies filled her vision. It seemed not a one of the bandits on this side of the caravan made it.

They weren’t alone. Two of the traders knelt over a figure lying in the sand. She took a couple shaking steps closer and saw it was another one of them. Jumping Bean? She thought that was his name. She watched as they closed his eyes and said a few words, not sure how to feel. Remorse, because a pony was dead? That same pony had held a gun on her not too long ago, had been about to let one of his own do things to her. Yet all she could feel was a strange guilty sensation. Why? What could she have done differently? She’d been so busy worrying about her own survival…

“Don’t.”

Rarity flinched, more because of the spike of fire the voice produced in her skull than anything else. Hissing through her teeth, she turned to peer with one eye at Shining Armor. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t think about it. It only makes things harder.” He eyed her before looking to the traders. “I’ve seen that look in the mirror a few times. You learn to stop worrying about what you could have done differently. We held them off, and only came away with five casualties. That’s really good considering their sneak attack.”

“Good? There’s nothing good about…” She paused, the full meaning of his words hitting her. “Five? We lost that many?”

His ears perked. He looked to her as if she were speaking in gibberish before understanding bloomed across his face. “Oh, no. ‘Casualty’ just means someone got hurt. You’re thinking ‘fatality.’”

That didn’t help her to relax. Her eyes drifted to the deceased trader. His friends were already leaving him to check on the others. He seemed so… alone. “And… how many fatalities?”

Shining groaned. “You’re not going to make this easy on yourself, are you?”

A fire burned in her chest. Rarity turned on him with a snarl so fierce he actually stepped back. “It’s not supposed to be easy. These are ponies, dead ponies. And I will feel sorry for their deaths regardless of who they were or what they did because I have a sense of decency!”

His hand was on his pistol. She realized, belatedly, that hers was on Silver Lining. Sucking down a sharp breath, she pried her fingers from the handle and held her hands behind her back. But she kept her eyes on his face. “I apologize. I’m in no condition to discuss this rationally.”

He let go of his own weapon, already at ease. “It’s okay. I get it. I used to be the same way.” His eyes drifted up to her horn. “How’s the head?”

As if in reaction to the query, a fresh wave of fire surged through her skull around her horn. She cringed and rubbed the base of it with her thumb and forefinger. “It feels like I’m wearing a crown of hot coals.”

“Overdose?”

She nodded.

He hummed, crossing his arms and rubbing his stubbled chin with a thumb. “That was very impressive, what you did with the shield.”

“Don’t be patronizing,” she grumbled, turning away. “Yours was far better.”

“Well, sure. But shields are my special talent.”

That brought her attention back to him in a flash. “Really? Do you…” She hesitated, realizing that now might not be the best time to ask. But she’d started, and he was giving her an expectant look. It was too late to back out, wasn’t it? With hands behind her back once more, she looked to the sands and finished the query. “Do you think maybe you could help me improve mine? It would be so useful, I can’t possibly imagine.”

He said nothing at first. Was he at least thinking about it? Or maybe he was disgusted that she’d even ask, considering how rude she’d just been. She couldn’t blame him, not really. If only she hadn’t wasted her chances by letting her emotions get the better of her. With a sigh, she looked up, an apology on her lips.

It died at the sight of his grin. “Shining?”

His eyes sparkled at what must have been her apparent confusion. “I thought you’d never ask.”





In the end, four of their number died to the bandit raid, all traders. Panting Dingo was among them. Shot in the throat. Nopony could have helped him. Nothing disturbed Rarity quite so much as the awareness she was secretly relieved by his passing. The thought left her angry, and she avoided the others for a long time.

With no means to take their dead, Roma resorted to having them laid before a large dune, which they then collapsed onto the bodies. It wasn’t a proper grave, but it was the best they could offer. Shining and Rarity offered to help, but Roma’s only response was a long, vicious glare. They watched from the wagons, neither saying a word.

It went without saying that they’d have to let the remaining traders keep their guns. They had no means of taking them away without further raising tensions, and nopony wanted that right now. It was going to be hard enough keeping the wagons moving at a decent speed as it was.

They continued north. Rarity kept her distance from the rest, brooding over her dark thoughts. She looked at her views regarding Panting Dingo’s death and was not pleased by what she saw. That disgust only grew as she thought on her fights of the past. It dropped to its absolute worst when she realized, in a fit of horror, that she’d barely mourned for Cayenne’s posse. She’d defended herself, killed four ponies… and barely felt guilty.

What kind of pony was she becoming, that she had to feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

Thinking about it did her no favors. Taking a distraction, knowing with no small nausea that she was running from the problem, Rarity approached Shining on the second day about those shield lessons. He seemed genuinely excited by her interest and wasted no time. They practiced for a couple hours every day when the wagons stopped for the hot afternoons.

Which was why they were now sitting in the sand behind the last wagon.

“Alright, Rarity,” Shining said. He cupped his hands and, with a flash of his horn, produced a small, semi-transparent cube that fit neatly in his palms. “Just like that. Let’s see you do it.”

Rarity concentrated on her hands. She channeled the magic through her horn, envisioning a cube in her mind’s eye. She knew, from old conversations with some earth ponies, that non-unicorns tended to think that unicorns could just ‘think up’ what they wanted their magic to do. If only it were so simple. It was true that she had to envision what she wanted in her mind’s eye, but the spell didn’t end there.

To describe unicorn magic to a non-unicorn was… difficult. There are books that try to put it down in simple terminology, but Rarity found the few she’d read lacking in accuracy. This was partially because every pony channeled their magic a little differently, so precise, universal explanations were practically impossible.

For Rarity, the magic always started as a gemstone, not unlike one of those on her cutie mark. She would see a gem, feel it somewhere deep in her chest, and adjust its Colors. Yes, magic had Colors, and those Colors meant something. Oh, a unicorn’s aura would always be one color, but that was just a filter, the horn expelling excessive energies wasted in the casting process. The magic within was where the real Colors existed, and their purpose was the one thing that all ponies could agree on.

Shining hadn’t needed to inform her that Yellow was the necessary Color for the shield. He interpreted it as meaning ‘to protect.’ Rarity saw it in another way: to create. With eyes half-closed, she let the Color of the gem bleed out into the darkness around it, then carefully molded the nebulous mass of Yellow until it was a cube. That done, she ‘pushed’ the image out through her horn, working to impose the image of the cube over her palms.

Her horn flashed, but nothing formed.

Shining nodded encouragingly. “Don’t worry, it’ll come. Remember, the shape isn’t enough.”

“Right.” Taking a slow breath, Rarity brought a Yellow gem into focus once more. This time she didn’t just observe its melting Colors shifting into a cube, but also tried to imagine the cube having form. Having function. She thought of the edges as being sharp, the face as smooth. She gave it texture, heft, solidness. It took longer, but she at last had an image in her mind. Concentrating, ears flat against her skull, she ‘pushed’ the image out once again. Her horn flashed.

A small, precise blue cube appeared in her hands. Rarity blinked, grinned, then raised it up high. “I did it!”

The cube promptly shattered like glass, the individual pieces floating up lazily before fading into nothingness. She stared at her empty hands, jaw loose. “But… what happened?”

“You lost your concentration.” Yet Shining was grinning as he slapped a hand on his knee. “But hey, only two tries. That’s really good. Most ponies I’ve shown this to take half a dozen at least.”

“Oh?” That made her feel a little better. “Well, maybe I’ll be able to make a proper shield before we get to Hoofington.”

“Maybe.” As calm as he appeared, Shining’s grin and the light in his eyes betrayed excitement. He gestured to her. “Let’s demonstrate something. Make it again, and this time try to hold it.”

Rarity did as she was told, coming up with the spell much more quickly now that she understood the basic method. The cube appeared in her palms, and by maintaining it in her mind she was able to keep it intact. She raised and lowered it experimentally, finding it as light as she’d intended. She tried lifting it between thumb and forefinger, and it proved easy.

“Alright.” Shining leaned forward, eyes on the little blue cube. “I’m going to hit it with a beam. Try to hold it.”

“Okay.” She let the cube rest in the palm of one hand and held it up and to the side. Shining’s horn charged up and emitted a small but continuous beam that struck the object dead center. Rarity felt pressure in her mind. The pressure built rapidly, making her image of the cube fuzzy. Within seconds, it shattered as it had before, and Shining ended his feeble assault.

Rarity shook her head and placed a hand to her temple. “That was unpleasant,” she noted in a dry tone.

“It’s meant to be,” Shining replied, tone lecturing. “Physical projections, like shields, are extensions of ourselves, at least on a metaphysical level. Damage to them can be seen as damage to us. My Mom once likened it to us using our brains as shields.”

As the pressure faded from her head, Rarity dropped her hand. “A disturbing but reasonable metaphor.” She hesitated before asking the next question. “Does that mean that this training risks hurting one of us?”

“I won’t let it get that far.” He spoke with unwavering confidence. “Yes, a pony can get seriously hurt under the right conditions, depending on the strength of the blow striking the shield or, for a particularly strong shield mage like myself, if a really strong shield is somehow shattered. The more powerful your shield, the worse the damage will be when it fails.” He tapped his own head as if in demonstration. “When in doubt, it’s better to lower the shield than let it shatter.”

“I think I understand.” Rarity took a moment to consider the cube and its Yellow form in her mind without calling on her well of magic this time. “Do the other Colors have uses for a shield?”

“Yes, but that’s beyond the scope for today.” He showed her his hands, cupping them as if to hold water. “Now, I want you to do the same thing, but this time create a small ball. As perfectly round as you can make it.”

That proved a simple task, taking Rarity less than a minute to produce. She held up a sphere that fit easily in the palm of her hand. “That seemed much easier.”

“There’s a reason for that.” He held his own hand up to his side. “Now, hold it like this. Same test as last time. I’ll shoot, you hold as long as you can.”

Following his instructions, Rarity devoted her efforts to keeping the orb intact in her mind. Shining’s beam struck, just as before, but Rarity noticed the pressure was far less forceful than the last time. Was he taking it easy on her? Lips pursed, Rarity tried not to get distracted. She peered at the small ball in her hand, paying special attention to where Shining’s continuous rose-colored beam struck.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. The pressure built steadily, but the image barely distorted in her mind and the ball held firm. Rarity bit her tongue as she fought against the ever-worsening pressure.

And then, abruptly, Shining stopped his ‘attack’. Rarity blinked, her eyes going to him. “Why did you stop? I wanted to see how long I’d last.”

He shook his head. “We could be at it for a very long time if we did that.” He pointed at her sphere, still sitting innocuously in her palm. “But as you can see, it was a lot easier for you to hold it this time. I didn’t increase or decrease the power of my beam from before, so what’s different?”

Taking the ball in both hands, Rarity turned it about to view it from several angles. Her inspection turned up no ideas, so she looked to him in hopes for an answer.

He gained that smile she was getting so used to and pointed to the ball once more. “The strength of the shield is dependent on three things. First is the magical strength of the caster, but that’s actually the smallest part. Second is surface area, and third is the number of ‘edges’.”

Seeing her uncertain frown, he formed the thumbs and index fingers of his hands into a rectangular shape. “Look at it like the construction of a building. Four walls gives you a fairly sturdy shape. Take a wall away, though—” he folded a thumb so that the rectangle had an open side “—and the integrity is weaker. Take away two—” he folded his other thumb in so his fingers were alone and parallel to each other, then began shifting them back and forth “—and your structure is even weaker. The magical construct works on the same principles, except that when one piece of a magical construct breaks, the whole things goes. It’s much easier to break a single wall in the structure than the whole structure.”

Rarity found the explanation surprisingly clear, and nodded as she considered the implications. And yet… “So why does a sphere work better than a ‘wall’?”

He raised a finger as if making a profound point. “Arches.”

“Arches?”

“Arches.” He pointed to the top of her wagon. “Like the metal arches that hold up the canopy of the wagons. Or, to use a far more apt comparison, arch construction methods. The arch redirects the weight of whatever it is holding, making for a very firm structure. The circle is nothing less than a perfect arch, meaning it distributes the weight perfectly. Again, magical constructs function the same way.”

Now he raised his palm so that his fingers were aligned between them. His other hand formed a fist and pushed against his palm slowly, his fingers bending around it. “A flat wall has no energy distribution. It just takes everything and, if the force is strong enough, folds.”

He gestured for her magical sphere, which she presented to him. He moved his hand as if to strike it, but as he did he splayed his fingers so they wrapped around the ball. “The sphere distributes the energy evenly across the entire surface. Instead of one small part of the construct taking the full blast, the entire construct works together, making the whole more resilient.”

And that was why shields were stronger curved. Rarity beamed as the knowledge took hold in her brain. “I get it! It’s really not that complicated after all.”

He chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I’m glad you think so. It’s how my sister explained it to me.”

Rarity’s ears perked. “Wait, your sister did? Isn’t she ten years younger than you? And didn’t you say shields are your special talent?”

His grin turned lopsided as a bit of pink touched his cheeks. “Yeah, but I was just casting them, y’know? Not thinking about it. Didn’t have to, because they came natural to me. But Twilight’s a magical prodigy. She had the theory down while I was still trying to figure out the basics.” His smile weakened as he turned to gaze into the desert. “All those smarts, and she still thought it was a good idea to head out there on her own.”

The sphere evaporated as Rarity lost all focus on it. She reached out to touch Shining’s arm. “She might still be out there. I’ll be sure to keep an eye open in my travels.”

He didn’t look at her at first. He reached up to pat her hand, then gently brushed it off. “Thanks, but… I’m not going to get my hopes up.” Climbing to his hooves, he stretched and let out a yawn that seemed just a bit too loud and long. “I think that’s enough for today. Same time tomorrow?”

Rarity considered pressing him, but elected to keep her peace. She didn’t have any room to make promises that probably couldn’t be kept. The fact he’d given up was disturbing, but what good would her words do against years of devoted searching? So instead, she just smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it.”

As he went off to check on the rest of the wagons, her smile disappeared. “Twilight Sparkle. Will I disappear like you did?”

Gazing upon the vast, empty horizon, she idly wondered if such a fate was so bad. Perhaps, under the right circumstances, it would be a dream come true.
> Episode 13: Moonlight in Hoofington
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


27th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


Hoofington wasn’t all that unusual in appearance. Covering several square miles of space, the inner city consisted of two and three storey buildings. Most of the inner roads were paved with gray slate stonework, on which Rarity now walked with Shining Armor. The surrounding buildings were crafted from a variety of stone materials, although the occasional clay or brick structure was not uncommon. On a cool Warm Season morning such as this one they were surrounded by a small crowd of local citizenry consisting mostly of earth ponies, although Rarity noticed a number of unicorns and pegasi. Also among the throng were thestrals, goats, sheep, cattle, deer, even a couple of minotaurs. Clearly, Hoofington wasn’t called the racial stewpot of Equestria for nothing.

Rarity held her hands tightly behind her back. It prevented her from rubbing the nub on Silver Lining’s handle. “Are you sure I need to be here for this?”

“You deserve the recognition,” Shining said without looking back. “Don’t worry, nothing terrible is going to happen.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” she grumbled. “You’re not the one with ponies looking for you.” She cast a wary glance at a trio of infantrymen in their yellow coats. They walked on by without casting the two of them so much as a glance, despite Shining’s officer’s jacket. Then again, it was rather threadbare, not unlike Limestone’s coat, which Rarity now wore for the sake of convenience. It looked a lot better after her expert repairs, but one could only do so much with just a traveler’s sewing kit.

Shining tugged gently on her arm, guiding her through a particularly dense throng while turning down a major street. “The odds of them picking you out in a place like this are practically zero. I’ve spotted at least a dozen mares since we’ve arrived who are similar enough in appearance to make a pony second guess. Trust me, Rarity, nopony’s gonna come after you.”

If only she shared his confidence. She reached out on instinct, swatting a small hand away before it could snatch Silver Lining from her at the same time that Shining’s did the same thing. Within seconds, the street urchin had disappeared back into the crowd. In another, they were out of the mass of ponies and going down a less heavily-trafficked street.

“Nice reflexes,” Shining said without looking back. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“I grew up in Mooisville,” she replied with muzzle held high. “And the poor side of town, at that. One learns the signs of impending loss.” She hated admitting that, but it wasn’t as if her reputation could go any lower. What was an unpleasant background as a pauper compared to being a wanted drifter? Well, ‘pauper’ might be a tad excessive, but she hadn’t thought so in the wild exaggerations of her youth. Looking back on her past behavior as a teenager, Rarity couldn’t resist the thought that she’d been a spoiled little brat. If only she’d known back then how good she’d really had it.

“Here we are.” Shining stopped them before a two-storey building of brick squashed between two larger ones. A sign spread over the wide front door declared the site to be the Little Angels Packaging and Messenger Service. So… it was like a post office? Rarity held her questions back as she was led inside.

They entered a small lobby, which was pleasantly clean and brightly lit by magilights. The floor was a plain brown concrete worn from excessive use with a number of visible hairline fractures, suggesting to Rarity that the building was quite old. A trio of ceiling fans kept a light breeze going – no sign of magical cooling here – and the plain walls were decorated with simple images of scenery from what Rarity suspected were different parts of Equestria.

As she followed Shining to the desk, her gaze fell upon a curious sight. A grey unicorn filly, perhaps no older than six, sat on the countertop wearing a disturbingly plain blue dress. Before her was a tower of smooth stones shaped into little rods. A red stallion with windswept orange hair and lots of stubble sat at the counter opposite the filly, watching the tower with narrowed eyes.

Just as Rarity and Shining reached them the filly’s horn lit up and, with extreme care, pulled one of the long, thin stones from the tower. The structure wobbled a little, but remained upright. The filly grinned and bounced in place, rump never leaving the counter. “Told ya it wouldn’t fall!”

The stallion let out a low growl, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “That ya did. One moment.” He turned to the visitors with a ready smile, which only broadened upon seeing Shining. “Heeey, if it isn’t our favorite drifter. Come to report to Boss on that gem delivery?”

Shining exchanged fistbumps with him. “Yep. Things didn’t go as smoothly as they could have, but the delivery was made.” He stepped aside and looked to Rarity. “Rarity, meet Brumby. Brumby, Rarity.”

Rarity inclined her head slightly and smiled, though her attention was more on the foal. “A pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, miss.” Brumby tipped his maroon top hat to her, the goggles on top rattling at the motion. “What can we do for ya? Or is she with you, Shining? Always knew you’d net a dame in your travels someday, but this one looks like a fighter. You like em rough?”

Rarity was too taken aback by the upfront, honest nature of Brumby’s suggestion to react. Shining, fortunately, was more than prepared. His smile turned sad as he spoke. “She’s a fighter alright, but she’s not my girl. I want her to meet the boss. She was a big help in getting the shipment brought over safely, so I think she deserves some compensation.”

“I already told you, that’s not at all necessary.” She reached up to rub at her necklace, averting her eyes to the foal.

As if on cue, the child whined, “BC, it’s your turn!”

“Right, right.” Brumby paused to eye the tower. With his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, he reached up and pulled one of the stones out with exaggerated slowness. He made a soft ‘aaaah’ sound as the stone was almost out and the tower began wobbling. At last, the piece was freed. The tower sagged slightly, making all present wince, but remained standing.

Brumby grinned – “Hah!” – and slapped the stone onto the countertop.

The tower promptly collapsed.

“Yes!” The filly threw both fists into the air. “I win again!”

Brumby gaped at the chaotic pile of stones, then at his hand still flat on the counter. “Aww, come on, that’s not even fair. Rematch!”

“Rematch,” the filly agreed soberly, then smirked. “I still want the cookie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ll go buy you one when I’m on lunch, alright? Now set the tower up while I deal with Mr. Armor.”

While the filly obediently began rebuilding the tower – with her hands, not her horn – Brumby turned back to his visitors, flashing a conspiratorial wink as he did. “So, where’s the gems?”

“At the Southroad Warehouse,” Shining replied, smirking all the while. He put a paper receipt down on the counter. “How’s it feel to lose to a kid?”

“My dignity can take it,” Brumby replied with confidence as he marked something on a clipboard. “I’d like to see you beat her at Jenga. Take my advice: don’t try it.”

Rarity watched the foal reconstruct the stone tower. Jenga, was it? It looked like a wonderful way to train a young unicorn in fine magical control. She had to wonder where the game had come from, seeing as she’d never heard of it before.

“Alright, everything’s in order.” Brumby shook his head while putting the clipboard away. “But geez, looks like you guys had a rough time of it.”

“Would have been a lot rougher if Rarity hadn’t come along for the ride.” Shining gestured to the door beside the counter. “So, she back there?”

“Oh, yes, in her office, doing office things.” Brumby waved them to the door. “Go on in, she could use the break, though she’d never admit it. Pleasure to meet you, Rarity.” He promptly turned to the completed stone tower, fixing the filly with a devilish smirk. “If I win this one, I’m eating your cookie.”

The filly countered with a smirk of her own. “If I win, I get two cookies!”

“You’ll have to clear that one with the boss.”

“She’ll say yes. She likes when I win, and I’m gonna win!”

“We’ll see, kid. We’ll see.”

The door closed behind Rarity, who couldn’t stop smiling. “That filly is delightfully self-assured. Reminds me of another little filly I once knew.” She only hoped that one didn’t make similar mistakes to her own.

Shining’s face mimicked hers as he led her through the wide hallway past a number of doors. “She’s certainly smarter than the average pony her age. Better with magic, too. Her mom hopes to send her to the university in Seaddle someday.”

“Hmm. Ambitious mother, then.”

“You have no idea.” Chuckling, Shining brought them up a staircase, bringing them into a much broader room filled with three desks, each with a pony working furiously at a typewriter. They paid the two of them little mind. Continuing past the noisy room, they entered another hallway and walked towards the front of the building once more. At the end was a door like all the others, on which Shining knocked lightly. At a call from the other side, he stepped through.

The office wasn’t half as big as Rarity anticipated, being perhaps as large as her bedroom back at her old shop.  The thought gave her a moment’s pause. Since when did I start thinking of it as my ‘old’ shop? I’ve been doing this too long…

Filing cabinets made up two corners of the room, stacked atop one another to the ceiling. A small drinking fountain, topped by a large glass jug, took up another corner, and a bookshelf filled with binders and folders lined the wall on the left. Pictures of a family of three adorned the remaining walls, lending the entire room a comfortable, welcoming feel beneath a lone ceiling fan with attached magilights. Set before an open window was a small wooden desk, its top weighed down by a massive amount of neatly organized paperwork.

Hunched over the desk was a petite grey pegasus, her blonde mane pulled back in a ponytail as she banged away on a typewriter that barely fit what little space remained. She wore a neat grey business suit more typical of a stallion. The wings were a surprise, but not so much as the golden eyes that aimed in two directions at once. One of those remained firmly on the typewriter while the other swiveled up to observe Shining and Rarity.

“Oh, Shining! Thank goodness.” The mare had a light, almost childish voice that stood in stark contrast to her professional appearance. “I was worried about the Pie shipment. It’s good to see you’re as capable as ever.” She finished up whatever she was writing and turned both eyes to her guests. “Please, sit. Can I get you something? Water?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Shining said as he sat in one of the wooden chairs that were a little too small for his bulky physique.

“I as well, but it is appreciated.” Rarity sat next to him, not sure if she should feel curious or anxious. She couldn’t stop looking at the mare’s eyes, which now watched one of them apiece. Was she capable of controlling their individual directions?

Without looking down, the mare pulled the paper from the typewriter and set it, neatly, atop one of the many piles. She then leaned back comfortably in her seat and nodded. “Well, Shining, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?”

“Right.” With a sheepish look, he gestured to Rarity. “Rarity Belle, allow me to introduce Ditzy Doo, owner of Little Angels and my employer. Rarity was vital in making sure the Pie Sisters’ delivery was made safely.”

Rarity shrank a little in her seat. “Shining, please don’t exaggerate. My role was minimal, really.”

“Bull. If you hadn’t spotted the flanking bandits, we’d have been torn apart. And,” he threw in as she was opening her mouth to retort, “you took down a Leaper up close. That is way above ‘minimal.’”

“A Leaper? Really?” Ditzy’s brow shot up as both eyes centered on Rarity. “He’s right, you’re really underselling yourself.”

When Rarity only looked at the desk in response, Shining sighed. “As you can see, Rarity’s humble about her abilities. But since she directly suffered thanks to Roma’s crew and kept us from getting surprised from behind in a bandit raid, she deserves some special recognition.”

“Roma?” Ditzy’s eyes narrowed, her feathers bristling. “What did she do this time?”

“Treated us like trash, but that’s normal for Roma.” He grimaced, his hands balling into fists. “One of her boys tried to—”

Rarity shot him a brief glare. “Shining.”

“If you’re not going to say something, then I am.” He crossed his arms and gave her a challenging look. “This isn’t going unspoken.”

The memory of Panting’s hands on her brought a fresh heat to her cheeks. She didn’t want to think of it, much less talk about it. Still, Shining appeared determined, and after a moment’s hesitation she turned her face away.

Taking that as the permission it was, Shining proceeded to relate to Ditzy how Rarity had been forced to defend herself, along with the ensuing confrontation and the rebellion of the drifters against the traders. The businessmare listened to the story without expression, her lips set in a thin line. Her wings, however, trembled with emotion.

When the story ended, she said nothing for a time. Her eyes drifted about seemingly of their own volition, her breathing coming at a slow, steady pace. When she finally spoke, it was in a tone of barely suppressed anger. “I will pay Roma and her remaining crew what they are owed, but I will not be compensating them for their lost members, and I can assure you they will not be doing business with Little Angels again.”

With a sharp turn of the head, she focused on Rarity. Both eyes. “I apologize, Miss Belle, on behalf of the Company. Roma and her team have always been profoundly frustrating for me, but I never thought they’d cross such a line. I know I can’t make up for what they tried to do to you, but I hope you’ll accept a share of the payment they would have gotten as a start.”

Rarity wanted to object, but as she met Ditzy’s gaze she recognized the determination behind those strange eyes. She had the distinct impression that Miss Doo wouldn’t budge to her rejections. And the extra funds would be a nice padding should she ever decide to purchase some proper ammunition for the Ruby Heart.

So, with a weary sigh, she nodded. “As much as I’d rather not, I suppose I will accept. But please, no more than that.”

“If that is your wish.” Ditzy snatched up a sheet of paper and scribbled something on it. Folding the sheet neatly in two, she offered it to Shining. “Would you take that to Printed Letter for me? She can see to the arrangements. Rarity can give her the appropriate account number when she leaves.”

Shining accepted the letter, but there was a brief pause before Ditzy released it. The two shared a look that Rarity suspected included an entire conversation. Then she released, and he promptly stood. “Will do. Miss Belle, it’s been a pleasure. I hope we have another opportunity to work together.”

Rarity got the message and remained seated, though she couldn’t stop fidgeting and rubbing her necklace. “I hope so, too. Good luck with your search.”

He reached out to squeeze her shoulder. His blue eyes met hers, conveying a sadness that stilled her tongue. After a brief pause, he nodded. “And good luck with your family.”

The door closed behind him, leaving the two mares alone. Ditzy offered a warm smile as she leaned forward. “So tell me, Miss Belle: what is it that you do?”

“I’m a—” She felt a pin prick her heart as the word caught in her throat. Closing her eyes, she took a slow breath. Once the ache faded a bit, she opened them once more. “I was a clothier. I owned a shop in a small town called Spurhoof. Now?” She leaned against the armrest, fist against her cheek as she stared out the open window at the blue sky. She didn’t even try to muster any enthusiasm in her tone. “I suppose I must accept that I am a drifter.”

Ditzy frowned, her gaze sympathetic. “Business didn’t do so well?”

“Oh, no, the business was a smashing success.” Rarity felt her lips twitch upwards at the thought. “I was one of the town’s more successful ponies.” The half-smile retreated as quickly as it had come. “But that’s all over. It seems like another life entirely.”

“I… see. I’m sorry to hear that.” Carefully pushing some papers aside, Ditzy set her elbows to the desk and rested her chin atop her steepled fingers. “If I may ask, what made you decide to join Roma’s caravan?”

“Necessity.” Rarity’s eyes snapped back to the businessmare’s. “My family is in trouble, and it wasn’t safe for me to leave Rockstead on my own. Maud and Marble arranged for me to join the wagon train.”

Ditzy’s ears perked. “You know the Pies?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “You know the Pies?”

“We’ve been business partners for a few years now. I handle all their deliveries. I don’t have many regular customers, but the Pies and I have come to trust one another.” Ditzy returned her attention to Rarity. “And you?”

“I stayed at their farmhouse a couple times as a guest,” Rarity replied, seeing no reason to lie. “We grew… fond of each other, I suppose. They’ve offered me free room and board for any future visits, and I’ll likely take them up on it.” She smiled at the thought of the strange siblings. “They’re a most unusual duo, but Marble is a sweetheart, and Maud is pleasantly reliable.”

“That sounds like them, all right.” Ditzy chuckled and sat back once more. “Have you met Pinkie yet?”

Now it was Rarity’s ears that perked. “I have not, but I’ve heard of her. She’s in the Hoofington Army, is she not?”

“Yeah. She’s off on assignment right now, but if you know Maud and Marble, you’re just about guaranteed to meet Pinkie.” Craning her neck against the back of her seat, Ditzy grinned at the ceiling with a nostalgic air. “Trust me, there’s no mistaking an encounter with her. It’d be like not realizing the sky is blue.”

“Umm… okay?” Rarity had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but she figured she should just roll with it.

Refocusing her attention on Rarity, Ditzy gained a little more seriousness in her youthful voice. “Moving on. Let me be blunt: any mare who gets Shining Armor’s endorsement is one I want on my payroll. Would you be interested in doing some jobs for me?”

Ah, so that’s what her silent discussion with Shining was about. Rarity sat up straight and shook her head, feeling a touch of guilt when Ditzy’s wings drooped. “I am sorry, Miss Doo. The offer is appreciated, truly, but I must get back to Mooisville. My family is in very real danger and I don’t have time to take up a job as a…” She hesitated, not sure what word would be most appropriate.

“Escort,” Ditzy supplied, already rebounding from her disappointment. “You’d be an escort. I could really, really use some more.”

Cocking her head, Rarity asked, “Shining seems to do a good job.”

“Shining is just one stallion,” she countered, her attention turning to one of the photos on the wall. It showed Ditzy and the filly Rarity had seen downstairs. With them was another pegasus, taller than Ditzy and sky blue in color. “He’s one of only four who do the job continuously. The others you met were temp hires trying to make a quick bit and not likely to work more than three or four times. I’m trying to expand to all the city states and the rurals. I need permanent, skilled, reliable escorts. Hired guns aren’t as easy to come by as you might think.”

Rarity stiffened at those words, her fingers faintly brushing against Silver Lining’s handle. “I have very little interest in being a hired gun.” She practically spat the last two words. “I’m a lady of…”

But then she deflated, arms slumping with her shoulders and head hanging. Who was she kidding? The only thing anypony knew her for now was her skills with a gun. Despite her own desires, she’d become something of a gunslinger. The thought left a hollow feeling in her chest.

“Are you okay?”

She looked through her bangs at Ditzy, who watched with a concerned expression. Slowly, she pulled Silver Lining from its holster and stared at the gun. It truly was a thing of beauty. She traced the name with her fingers, a chaotic mix of disgust and pleasure filling her at its familiar texture. “This is all I am, now,” she muttered. “I used to be a proper lady. I hated guns and the ponies who lived by them. Now look at me. Always on the run, afraid somepony will start shooting at any moment.”

She held the gun out, tried to make herself drop it. But no matter how much she tried, her fingers remained firmly wrapped about the handle. In the end, she hadn’t really put much effort into it. With a sigh, she pulled it close once more. “I feel like such a failure.”
 
“Oh, no, no.” Ditzy turned up her muzzle, her confident tone grabbing Rarity’s attention. “That’s all wrong.”

“Wrong?” Rarity peered at the pony. “How could it be wrong? I was a mare of sophistication, and now I’m some ruffian.”

“Are you?” Ditzy curled her wing before herself and placed a finger on one of her primary feathers. “Do you love to kill?”

“What? No! How could you even suggest—?”

Ditzy tapped a second primary. “Did you commit a major crime for no reason other than you could?”

“Of course not! I had no choice but—”

A third primary. “Would you rather spend an evening polishing your guns?”

Rarity sputtered. “N-no, but I don’t see what that has to do with—”

A fourth. “Do you frown at the thought of using soap?”

Shoulders slumping, Rarity glowered at the businessmare. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

Ditzy grinned and retracted her wing. “I could go on, if you’re not convinced. Feel any urges to spit on my floor?”

Rarity shuddered and glanced at the ground, half-expecting to see a stain in the stonework. “Does anypony actually do that?”

“More than you’d believe.” Ditzy rolled her eyes, lips twisted in a brief scowl. “The point is, you’re not some violent desperado. I’ve met my fair share of outlaws and mercenaries, and you don’t fit the bill at all.”

No matter how much she wanted to be encouraged by those words, Rarity could only stare a little more at Silver Lining. The weapon seemed to shimmer in the dim lighting. No enthusiasm could form in her next sentence. “What, then, would you consider me?”

“Open-eyed.”

A blink. Another. Rarity raised her eyes to the smiling mare and responded with a deadpan “What?”

Ditzy’s expression didn’t fade. If anything, it grew brighter. “You were a ‘proper lady’ once. If the old you had met the new you, would she have given you the time of day?”

No consideration was required. “Not a chance. I mean, look at me.”

“Indeed, look at you.” Ditzy resumed leaning against her desk, chin on her palms. “You can defend yourself. You can survive when so many ‘proper’ ponies never could, but you still hold on to your dignity.” She paused, perhaps to let this concept sink in. Rarity had to admit, she’d not looked at things quite like that before. Her principles were indeed still intact… even if she was seeing them through a slightly muddier prism.

She opened her mouth, but Ditzy spoke over her. “Have you ever considered that maybe it was the old you whose view of the world was flawed?”

Rarity hesitated; that was indeed a new idea for her. But, as she rubbed her hand along Silver Lining’s barrel, she thought about ponies she’d hurt and killed. Being proud of blowing ponies to giblets with their own dynamite. Making that blue pegasus kill her friend. Piles’ face erupting in a splatter of blood.

Her duel with Cayenne, probably not to be her last.

“I survive only by this gun,” she whispered, heart heavy.

Ditzy’s ear flicked. “Is that so bad?” To Rarity’s glare, she said, “You really hate it.”

Fingers gripped the gun’s handle. “How can you speak of it so flippantly?”

The mare’s smile returned, but it was warm this time. “And that’s why you’re better than them.”

Perhaps this was meant to be encouraging. If so, it trailed off Rarity’s mind like water on a pegasus’s wings. All she could think about was the blood on her hands. If anything, she felt the need to take a long, hot shower.

Yet that was not in her immediate future. Possibly not in her future at all. With a sigh, she holstered Silver Lining and stood. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time for philosophizing and debating the merits of my new lifestyle. The offer is appreciated, Miss Doo, but I’m afraid I must decline. I have a family to rescue, and must be off immediately.”

Ditzy’s ears folded back, but she stood up and offered her hand regardless. “Alright, but the offer will be on the table should you change your mind later.”

The handshake was accepted even as Rarity said, “I find that unlikely. Thank you for your time.” She turned to leave.

“Miss Belle?”

Hand on the doorknob, she lingered.

“I know things seem bleak. But if you live long enough, you might find peace with this new life of yours. You might even find that you’re exactly the kind of pony Equestria needs right now.”

Such odd, wishful thinking. Especially for a businessmare. What was Rarity meant to say to that? She could think of nothing.

So nothing it was. She left the room without looking back.





She’d stumbled across a Howler’s Bank on her way through the city. She’d be remiss if she didn’t at least update Spike on her whereabouts. The ponies there had a response waiting for her from when she’d written him at the Lonely Mountain. It was filled with encouragement and kind words. They rang hollow, but she appreciated the gesture regardless. She made sure to keep her letter to Spike as positive as she was able under the circumstances, and didn’t dare bring up the bandit raid.

She took the time to write Maud and Marble, too. They deserved an update. Like Spike’s, it was watered down to make things seem more positive than reality allowed. She suspected Maud would see right through it, but Marble might buy it. She sent the letter onward and left, wondering if she shouldn’t ask directions to a local grocer so she might resupply for the next leg of her journey. She’d need to restock on bullets too, to her chagrin.

She was three steps out the bank’s wide doors when a zebra stepped into her path. It happened smoothly, but with such suddenness that Rarity felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Her hand wrapped around Silver Lining’s handle before she had time to consider the need.

The zebra stood a full foot taller than her, a mare in a formal green dress that suggested she belonged to aristocracy. White collar, long, billowing sleeves, matching white belt, and the fabric appeared to be cotton. The buttons… were those emeralds? Definitely wealthy. A zebra amongst the elite was not likely, but also not beyond the bounds of possibility in Hoofington. The mare, her mane a mass of braids, met Rarity’s gaze with a firm but expressionless stare. Her green eyes seemed to look right through her.

“Rarity Belle?” She had a deep but curiously melodious voice.

A quick scan of the busy street revealed nothing. If the zebra had friends watching the encounter, they were hiding well enough. “I apologize,” she said with slow caution. “I have places to be.” She turned to walk away, determined to put some distance between the zebra and herself. She couldn’t fathom what the mare would want with her or how she recognized her, but all her instincts screamed that she needed to get away quickly.

“You wield Silver Lining.”

She paused. Her dodge hadn’t mattered; the zebra definitely knew who she was. Why had she never thought about Silver Lining as a giveaway before? Half-turning back, Rarity studied the zebra again with one eye while her palm pressed against the gun’s handle. The zebra was lean, but the high neckline and opaque cape sleeves made it impossible to tell her musculature. If the mare was armed, Rarity couldn’t tell.

Not feeling at all comforted, Rarity kept her tone cool. “Who are you, and what do you want?”

“I am Maono,” she replied neutrally. “My lady has learned of your presence in this city and desires your company. I have been tasked with retrieving you.”

Her ‘lady’. A servant, then? Either this lady wanted Rarity to feel safe by only sending one servant to ask this, or Maono was expected to be able to force Rarity along no matter what. “And should I refuse?”

“You are free to do so.” Maono crossed her arms, which had the curious effect of making them seem to disappear in the many folds of her sleeves. “I would encourage you to reconsider. The Lady does not see guests often.”

The tension remained in Rarity’s stance and voice. “Who is this lady?”

“I do not speak her name in public.” Green eyes flicked to Rarity’s hip. “I will say that she is intimately familiar with your weapon of choice. She would meet with the pony who wields it.”

The air left Rarity’s lungs as the implications struck hard. She permitted herself a glance at Silver Lining, then met Maono’s eyes yet again. If what she said was true, then could Rarity really pass up such an opportunity? But then again… “How do I know your words are true?”

At last, Maono’s unreadable façade cracked: she smiled. It was a surprisingly warm expression. “A test of knowledge, perhaps? My Lady claims there is a small distortion on the left side of the handle. A ‘nub’, so to speak. Surely you know of it.”

Rarity was rubbing the familiar spot with her thumb before Maono finished speaking. So very few ponies could possibly know that. It was enough, at least, to let her believe what she was hearing. Part of her wanted to reject the offer and move on. She needed to get to Mooisville sooner rather than later. But then again, if she could land the support of Maono’s ‘Lady’… surely that would make the coming fight far easier. She could use all the help she could get.

“Alright.” Rarity nodded, at last releasing Silver Lining and facing Maono properly. “I’ll go with you.”

Maono’s smile broadened. “Ah, good. Please follow, and I shall lead you to her directly.”

The zebra promptly marched into the street, heading east. Rarity followed, praying she wasn’t making a mistake.





Rarity might have made a mistake.

Oh, she had no proof of that just yet, but the fact she was currently in an elevator alone with a mare of questionable trustworthiness didn’t make her feel confident. She couldn’t bring herself to let go of Silver Lining and made sure to keep at Maono’s back. The elevator belonged to a narrow building that reached a solid four stories, which might have made it the tallest in Hoofington. From what she’d seen in the lobby, she suspected it to be a condominium for the wealthy.

If Maono thought anything of Rarity’s skittish behavior, she gave no indication of it. Her arms remained hidden within the folds of her wide sleeves, her gaze set straight ahead. All attempts at conversation had been politely rebuffed or ignored, which hadn’t eased Rarity’s concerns.

Could it be that this was a trap? The Bad Apples were said to have friends in high places, although nopony could confirm the extent of the situation. Rarity had to acknowledge the possibility that this was a ruse to corner her in some confining space. She should have been more cautious. Silver Lining was a famous handgun, she should have known that it would be recognizable beyond past owners. Too late to turn back now. All Rarity could do was keep a firm grip on her weapon and hope she’d not made a very foolish decision.

The creaking cords of the elevator ceased, bringing the platform to a smooth stop. Maono reached out to pull the lever at her side, and the doors opened to the tinkling sound of magic. At the same time, a silver bell above the door rang. Rarity peered through the opening and felt her heart flutter.

If there was an ambush to be staged here, it would be an expensive one. The floor was plush, dark grey carpet. The walls consisted of a similarly dark wood paneling with silver filigree. From her limited view she could not see how wide the room was, but the opposite wall suggested the space could easily fit her old shop’s entire floor plan, both storeys. A quartet of red velvet lounge chairs and one massive purple couch surrounded a coffee table of granite. The entire space sported a presence both severe and austere.

Maono’s voice cut through her thoughts. “This is where we part ways. I shall leave you to enjoy the Lady’s company.”

Rarity shot her a questioning look. “You’re not coming?”

The zebra shook her head in a slow, graceful motion. “I have not had the pleasure of meeting the Lady. Few do. You are whom she invited. You alone will meet with her.”

“I…” Rarity cast another glance, wondering if she should feel honored. So the Lady was a recluse? It only made her question the purpose of this meeting all the more. Still, she found it doubtful that this was the trap she’d come to fear. This seemed like the worst possible place to do such a thing, if only because of the potential financial expense.

“Very well.” She stepped out of the elevator, leaving Maono behind. “Thank you for the escort.”

“Of course.” Without another word, but still sporting that warm smile, her guide pulled the lever once more. The door closed, and Rarity found herself alone in what was easily the largest and most luxurious place she’d ever had the pleasure of visiting. Now that she took a proper look around, she saw that the room wasn’t as wide as she’d suspected, though her shop’s lower level would have still fit within these walls with ease.

The apartment consisted of two floors, stairs to her left and right leading up to second level balconies. A trio of ceiling fans spun lazily, but she suspected they were more for show as her magical senses could readily detect the cooling enchantment set upon the place. Her eyes roamed the living room. The sparse décor consisted of a few portraits of regal, commanding and stern-looking ponies, and a couple nighttime scenery paintings of the city from high vantage points. It was all a little too severe for her tastes, but that didn’t mean Rarity couldn’t detect the aesthetic appeal. This was a room decorated by somepony who knew exactly what she was doing.

There came movement in the corner of her eye. Rarity faced the stairs to her left and looked up. At the top of them stood a middle-aged unicorn mare, a gentle blue with a mane almost black, but with the faintest hint of blue. It seemed to pour like water down her shoulders, ending in silky curls at her hips. Her attire consisted of a violet overbust corset topped by a black blouse with Juliet sleeves and a long skirt of violet silk and silver highlights that glittered in the dim lighting. One hand upon the railing, chin tilted slightly back, her poise was as regal and commanding as that of the figures in the portraits. The mare stared at Rarity, her eyeshadow giving her an almost sultry appearance despite the almost bored expression on her face.

A moment of tense silence passed between them. Rarity couldn’t help the smile she wore; this mare might have had a style very different from her own, but she still had style. The old fashionista in her was just begging for an opportunity to design a dress for her unique coloration and dignity! She really hoped the mare would speak up soon before her mind caught up with her tongue, because she knew the first question out of her mouth would involve taking measurements.

At last, the mare spoke, her voice cool and raspy. “So it is true. Silver Lining has a new owner.”

Only now did Rarity realize that the mare’s gaze had shifted to the weapon at her side. Rarity’s fingers brushed against the weapon. “Yes. It was a gift.” The momentous nature of this meeting at last settled in over her initial excitement, and she had to swallow to moisten her throat. “And you’re… the Shrouding Midnight?”

The mare’s eyes narrowed, the intensity of her gaze only growing. “I do not go by that title anymore.”

By the Sisters, this was real. Rarity was gazing upon one of the only two members of the Rainbow Gang to still live. A legend among drifters, and one of the best gunfighters to have ever journeyed Equestria! And, perhaps most importantly, the original owner of Silver Lining. Rarity felt her heart sink at the notion. Was she here only so that she could give up her preferred weapon?

Forcing her combined anxiety and excitement down, Rarity somehow managed to keep her tone even and polite. “Then what should I call you?”

The mare once known as the Shrouding Midnight seemed to hesitate, but at last began to descend the stairs at a slow, elegant pace. “My name. Moonlight Raven.”

“Miss Raven.” Rarity smiled as she watched her delightfully refined movement. “I am Rarity Belle, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Is it.” Raven at last reached the bottom of the stairs, but didn’t approach. Though her face betrayed no emotion, her anxiety was revealed by the way she toyed with a bracelet made of long white blocks on her left wrist. The thing clashed terribly with the rest of her ensemble. She said nothing for a time, and Rarity couldn’t determine if she was being judged or if the mare simply didn’t know what to do next.

It seemed it would be up to Rarity to take the next step. As much as the thought made her heart ache, she reached down to lightly grab Silver Lining’s handle. “Did you want to… get reacquainted?”

Raven blinked, her calm manner betrayed by slightly parting lips and a shine in her eyes of… fear? She licked her lips, made as if to reach out. The instant Rarity started to pull the gun from its holster, however, the former drifter took a step back, hand settling on her shoulder as if to keep it from being burned.

“I… I do not want it.”

“Oh.” Rarity looked from Silver Lining, half out of its holster, and back to Raven. “Are you sure?”

Raven opened her mouth, but said nothing for some time. With a heavy breath, she turned and walked for the chairs in the middle of the room, her pace swift and some of her grace lost. “Let us sit, shall we?” Even her voice had a slight quaver to it.

Now it was Rarity who hesitated. “I just came from the Southroad. I’d hate to get sand and dirt all over your furniture.”

“Furniture can be cleaned.” Raven’s voice had returned to its cool, commanding manner. “Sit.”

Seeing no good reason to deny the order of an Equestrian legend, Rarity obediently sat in the chair opposite Raven’s, although she tried to settle on the very edge so as to soil the lovely cushions as little as possible. Oh, but these were soft!

Apparently recovering her stride, Raven wasted no time leveling her with a judging stare. “I have heard many rumors about you.”

“Rumors?” Rarity countered with a short, feeble laugh. “W-what rumors might those be?”

“Rumors that say you have been using Silver Lining extensively. Rumors that you are one of the most capable drifters to hit Equestria in a long time.” Those amber eyes became piercing. “Rumors that your heart is bulletproof.”

Rarity released a long, low groan, closing her eyes and bowing her head. “Has that stupid story really followed me all the way here?”

“So it is true? You are the Bulletproof Heart?”

“I don’t want to be.” She turned her eyes to the side and chewed her thumb as she imagined the stories reaching all the way to Mooisville. “It was a fluke. I’m not some mighty drifter hero. I was just trying to survive.”

“That is what makes heroes.”

Rarity turned to Raven, her ears perking. “Pardon?”

The former drifter had her eyes closed as she leaned back heavily in her chair. “Nopony among the Rainbow Gang ever desired to be a hero. We just did what we had to.” She toyed with her bracelet once more, lips descending to a solemn frown. “Ponies do not always get to choose their legacies.”

That did seem to make sense, as much as Rarity didn’t want to admit it. It didn’t make her feel any better about her situation. Perhaps she was being foolish, but she wasn’t interested in listening to her logical side regarding the matter. So she pouted and leaned back in her chair… at least until she remembered how dirty she still was and straightened up once again.

“How is Cranky?”

Depressing thoughts drifted away as Rarity refocused on Raven. She couldn’t resist a smile. “So it’s true, you two really did know one another.” At Raven’s bored, expectant expression, she coughed and added, “The last I saw, he was fine. Still a deputy at Spurhoof.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “You did meet in Spurhoof, yes?”

“That is none of your concern.” The answer was harsh, and Rarity’s ears folded once more. She fidgeted as her host examined her once more. “How did you come by Silver Lining?”

There could be no denying that this mare intimidated Rarity. Yet the question, snapped like another command, made her tense. Legend or no, she wasn’t going to let Raven bully her. She narrowed her eyes, meeting the mare’s gaze directly. “If your relationship with Cranky is none of my business, then my relationship with him is none of yours.”

Her counter was answered by a cool glare, which Rarity took on without hesitation. A tense silence passed between them, and the longer it lasted the more confident she became. She would not let this pony control the conversation. She’d been through her fair share of tough situations, and there was no reason at all for one of them to dictate the flow of information. True, Raven could probably teach her a few painful lessons if she wanted to, but Rarity hadn’t allowed herself to come here to be treated like an inferior.

She didn’t expect Raven to break. At best, they’d continue this glaring match for a few minutes more and she would be asked to leave. Not a pleasant first impression, but at least she wouldn’t go with her tail between her legs.

Raven closed her eyes and heaved a sigh. “Cranky saved me.”

It took a moment for Rarity to realize what had been said. She gaped, blinked, gaped some more.

“You are correct,” Raven said after a moment. Her expression softened and she seemed to deflate, sinking into the soft cushions of her seat. “I am not being fair. So I shall tell you this much: Cranky found me after Ponyville. He kept me… sane. Brought me back from the brink. Then I left.” She gestured. “Your turn.”

That was hardly satisfying, but Rarity had no intention of pressing her luck. “I lived in Spurhoof for a few years. A member of the Bad Apple Gang tried to… do things to me and my assistant. I didn’t let him. Before I left to escape the Gang’s retribution, Cranky gave me this.” She pulled out Silver Lining. “He taught me how to use it and sent me on my way.”

Raven tilted her head, silky locks drifting over her eyes. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” Silver Lining was replaced, but Rarity couldn’t resist rubbing the little nub on the handle with her thumb. A flick of Raven’s eyes revealed she caught the motion. Perhaps she’d done it herself just as often. “I don’t know what possessed him to do it, but I am immensely grateful for it. He said I wouldn’t survive the night without it, and he was right.”

With a hum, Raven tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling, or perhaps beyond it. She loosely clasped her hands together, taking on a thoughtful expression. “Interesting. Cranky would not have given my weapon to just anypony, regardless of the need. Not when any old handgun would have sufficed. What did he see in you?”

“I have no idea,” Rarity confessed. She saw the old donkey’s face in her mind’s eye, ever scowling. She realized that, even though she’d hardly known the deputy, she missed him. And Coco and the shop and Cleric Walker. She missed Spurhoof. To her surprise, she missed it almost as badly as she missed Mooisville. In a way, she might even miss it more.

“Whatever Cranky saw in you, it is clear you have something to work with.” Raven brushed her mane back, her cool expression returning. It had lost a lot of its edge, though. “After all, I have heard a great many things about the Bulletproof Heart. You are not some simpleton who happened to get her hands on a gun.”

Rarity sniffed and crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

Raven cocked an eyebrow. “So you did not help a bunch of traders escape griffon slavers?”

A flinch. “I… helped. But I didn’t do it on my own.”

“And you did not survive a shot to the heart?”

Her ears folded back. “I had protection.”

“And you did not survive the tunnels beneath the Dragon’s Teeth?”

Rarity’s ears shot right back up. “How did you know about that?”

“Or lead the diamond dogs on a wild chase, or survive for weeks in the Great Salt Plains, or single-handedly defeat an ambush of five Bad Apples, or assist in putting down a gang on the Southroad?” Her host’s neutral expression didn’t budge. “I have my sources.”

And Rarity would love to know about them. Rubbing her necklace, she found herself averting her gaze yet again. “Okay, all of that is… technically true.” She couldn’t help but notice that the Apple Family caravan hadn’t been brought up.

“Then I think it stands to reason that you, Miss Belle, are not just anypony.” Raven sat up straight once more. “Whether you like it or not, you have the talent to thrive as a drifter.”

“Like it or not.” That with a touch of bitterness. Rarity looked to the legendary gunslinger. “Why did you ask me to come here?”

“I needed to make sure of things.” Raven paused, perhaps to consider her words. “I needed to be certain that Silver Lining was in worthy hands. That gun is special, and I will not allow just anypony to use it.”

Rarity’s hackles rose and a cold feeling found its way into her gut. Her hand instinctively went to Silver Lining, not to pull it out but… to protect it? The thought only made the chill inside grow worse. “By Luna’s Stars,” she whispered. “Am I actually growing attached to this damnable thing?”

Raven stared at her with all the emotion of Maud. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It is.” Forcing herself to let the gun go, Rarity crossed her arms once more and squeezed herself. “It really is. I’m supposed to be making clothes, not putting holes in them. I want to be better than this.”

“There you go again.” Her host shook her head, never taking her eyes off Rarity’s. “Having to fight, being able to kill another pony. It is not an evil or uncultured thing, nor is it uncouth. When you are defending yourself and those you love, it is—”

“It’s what? Good?”

“It is acceptable.”

Scowling, Rarity shivered. “I’m not inclined to agree.”

“I see.” Raven leaned on her armrest, fingers covering her lips as she peered at her guest. “Then die.”

Rarity flinched. “I beg your pardon?”

“Then die,” Raven repeated casually. “If your life is not worth the lives of murderers, outlaws, and thieves, let them kill you and be done with it.”

“Their lives are not worth more than my own,” she snarled back. “But that doesn’t mean their lives are worthless!”

The glare was met only by a quiet, calm stare. With her hand over her lips, it was even harder to gauge Raven’s expression. Rarity imagined her frowning. She was taken aback, then, when the fingers lowered to reveal a soft smile.

“I have seen enough.”

Rarity’s most eloquent response was something along the lines of “Bwuh?”

“I have seen enough,” Raven repeated, sitting back in her seat with a sigh. “You are not quite ready for the life you are set to lead, but you are most certainly worthy of Silver Lining. Keep it, with my blessing.”

“I… um…” Rarity looked down at the gun, then back to Raven. “Thanks?”

“You are welcome.” She waved her hand to the side. “So have you met the Vermillion?”

Still mentally scrambling from the approval and change in topic, it seemed like ages before Rarity was able to forge a proper response. “The Vermillion?”

Raven nodded, her smile fading. “The Flaming Vermillion. You two were in very close proximity. Have you met her?”

A moment to swallow the lump in her throat. “No. I heard she was nearby several times. I even went looking for her, briefly. But we never crossed paths.”

“I see.” Raven’s eyes dropped to her lap. “Perhaps that is for the best.”

Rarity shifted, waiting for her to elaborate. When no explanation was forthcoming, she ventured a query. “Are you looking for her?”

Those yellow eyes drifted to her, thoughtful and uncertain. “No. But I do worry about her. She was my friend once. I hear about what she does nowadays and I do not recognize her actions as hers. It is as if an entirely different pony was masquerading around Equestria using her name.”

Rarity cocked her head at this. “And you are certain you have the right pony?”

“Oh, yes. It is her. She is merely…” A heavy sigh. Raven’s gaze dropped once more. “Angry. I fear she might do something irrational, and soon. Perhaps with you in mind.”

“Me?” Rarity leaned forward, suddenly very interested. “Why me?”

“You are famous now. The Apple Gang is after you.” Raven’s unusually soft expression radiated concern. “My friend, what is left of her, may try to take advantage of that.”

Rarity balked. “Are you suggesting she would threaten me in some way?”

“I am more concerned about you being collateral damage than anything,” she confessed.

“I see.” Rarity didn’t, not really, but she supposed she shouldn’t press the issue. She doubted she’d come across the Flaming Vermillion anyway.

A lull in the conversation left Rarity wondering what would happen next. The thought reminded her that she really needed to be on her way. She’d had an ulterior motive for coming here though, and now seemed as good a time as any to bring it up. The idea was still intimidating. Exciting, but intimidating.

She couldn’t waste this opportunity. After much fidgeting and shifting, she at last managed to force the words out of her throat. “C-could you help me?”

Raven seemed to come out of a daydream, her eyes refocusing on Rarity as though she’d forgotten her presence. “Help you?”

Rarity nodded eagerly. “I need to rescue my family. I am certain the Bad Apples are holding them hostage. I could really use some assistance.”

For a moment, Raven seemed confused by the question. Then, her eyebrows shot up and she flinched back as if avoiding a flame. “No.”

Had the response not come out so quiet, Rarity might have taken it harder. Instead, she felt more surprise and confusion than anything. “But—”

“No.” Raven turned away, her arms shaking before she hugged herself tightly. “I cannot. I am not… I cannot.”

Scooting a little closer, wishing she could reach out, Rarity asked a quiet, “Miss Raven?”

Pinprick pupils glanced at her over trembling lips. “I have not fired a gun since Ponyville.” She faced the wall once more, perhaps avoiding Rarity’s gape. “I… I do not have it in me to fight anymore. That is why I left Silver Lining behind. I c-cannot risk…” She fiddled with her bracelet, the shaking threatening to take over her entire body. “I will not lose everything again.”

Rarity wanted to argue. She wanted to snap at her for being so submissive, especially after putting on such high and mighty airs and encouraging her so much. And yet, as she gazed upon the mare once known as the Shrouding Midnight, she realized it would do no good. The Rainbow Gang, once seven strong, was now down to two, and those two hardly interacted anymore.

What must it have been like, for Raven to watch all her friends die? And now Rarity was here, another drifter of undesired, growing fame, asking her to go back into the fray and risk it all again.

She looked about the room. It was large. It was lavish. But… Raven was a recluse. Even those who worked for her never saw her face. This place was more like a cage than a home, but also a sanctuary from the very real dangers of reality. Rarity didn’t think it healthy, but what right did she have to ask her to give up that safety? Raven had already done so much. She’d paid her dues.

Who could blame her for not wanting to give more?

“I apologize,” she whispered, rising to her hooves. “I didn’t mean to be any trouble.”

The Shrouding Midnight, just moments ago a proud and regal figure, now seemed little more than a skittish, frightened child. She looked up at Rarity with haunted eyes. “You did not,” she whispered. “I j-just…” Her fingers continued to toy with the bracelet.

With a heavy sigh, Rarity nodded. “I’m going to go. I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”

Just as she was moving to leave, Raven spoke up, her words hesitant. “I hope you are a stronger mare than I, Bulletproof Heart. I hope you are able to achieve what the Rainbow Gang could not.”

Rarity, half-turned away, considered the suggestion. “I’m not trying to be some noble fighter, Miss Raven. I’m only trying to survive.”

A moment’s silence. When Raven next spoke, her words had regained some of their firmness. “I think you shall find that the Sisters have something greater than that in store for you.” At Rarity’s questioning look, she dropped her gaze. “Ponies like us tend to do more than we ever intended.”

When it became clear she would say nothing more, Rarity nodded. “Thank you for the warning. And the blessing. Goodbye.”

The answer was barely audible as she walked for the elevator. “Farewell, Bulletproof Heart. May your title be prophetic.”





Rarity had never understood how terrible a place Equestria could be. It had taken her away from both her homes. It had forced Spike to live isolated from the rest of the world, forever in anonymity. It forced Coco Pommel to flee for her life. It took Maud’s and Marble’s family away from them. It left Fluttershy a miserable wreck in the desert. It split the Apple Family, once the most powerful and beloved of agricultural elites, in two in a bloody family war.

And Equestria had broken the will of the Shrouding Midnight. That was what she’d just learned, wasn’t it? A pony, once a legendary combatant known for standing up for the less fortunate, now paled at the very thought of wielding a gun. She sat alone in her cage, too scared of the potential of loss to dare peek outside and maybe make a new friend. Moonlight Raven, former owner of Silver Lining.

If the Shrouding Midnight couldn’t stand up to the world, what chance did Rarity have?

These thoughts and more had been plaguing her for the last hour. Now she found herself standing by a cobblestone street, staring up at the familiar symbol of the combined crescent moon and sun. It towered above her head, blazing in the fading sunlight over a church with midnight blue night torches already lit. It was too early for evening mass, and yet there were two Stardust Clerics, a unicorn and an earth pony, at the door, speaking quietly to people as they passed by.

Rarity examined her wrist. There, flat against her pale coat, sat the onyx sigil Marble had gifted her in Rockstead. She raised it up, looked at it and the one atop the church side-by-side. Celestia and Luna. They’d never deign to speak to a creature as lowly as herself. Rarity could feel the foundations crumbling beneath her as she reflected once more on all she’d faced, on the death and pain and frustration of Equestria.

She felt so… vulnerable. Isolated. If she went inside, would she even feel comforted by the presence of the divines?

“Why?” she whispered, eyes focused on the onyx sigil. “Why do you permit these things to happen? The Rainbow Gang is long dead, even if two of its members still live.” She sighed and lowered her arm. “If you can call what Raven is doing ‘living’.”

She looked at the sigil above the church. “There’s a reason, isn’t there? Some grand scheme?” After a long, solemn study, she lowered her eyes to the stones at her boots. She wanted to believe things would get better. Surely the Sisters wouldn’t let things continue as they were. Equestria wasn’t meant to be a lawless, miserable place.

So why did everything seem to be getting worse?

After a time, she looked to the church doors. The earth pony was watching her, his expression solemn and concerned. But when their eyes touched, he offered a sad smile. He raised his hand, his palm flat towards the ground, and extended it towards her.

With lips tugged slightly upwards, Rarity imitated the motion. They held the position for a moment, then gradually pulled their hands towards themselves. Even at a distance, the traditional greeting of the Church was simple to do. The cleric nodded, stepped aside and gestured invitingly to the door.

She hesitated. What good would this do her? There might not be any point, and she did have to get going again. And yet, maybe talking to one of the Shroud would help. She needed… Rarity had no idea what she needed. But she was out of options. Perhaps Marble was right. Perhaps. Was she not a devoted believer? Celestia and Luna couldn’t be blamed for Equestria’s shortcomings. She could make life what she wanted it to be…

Except she couldn’t.

No! That wasn’t the way to think!

I need the help.

Swallowing her pride with this final thought, she began to walk across the street. The doors became her focus, her world, her goal. She could make out the cleric’s encouraging smile on the peripheral of her vision. Yes, this was what she needed. If anypony could pull her out of her rut, it was—

A roaring cacophony blunted her thoughts and pierced her brain. Rarity came to a sudden stop, cringing at the noise that suddenly had everypony in the street looking around in curiosity and alarm. Whatever the sound was, it was loud and coming closer. Rarity noticed some of the ponies covering their ears, but she didn’t follow their lead. She didn’t need to, since she’d heard it—

She’d heard it before! A sudden, brilliant warmth and excitement tingled through Rarity as she tried to determine the direction of the growling noise. Nopony else in the street seemed to have figured it out either. The sound was echoing among the tall buildings, making it impossible to pinpoint. Where? Where was it? Her eyes caught sight of a thestral, saw which way she was looking. Thestrals, with their superior hearing, could be relied upon in situations like this. So, with the roar growing louder by the second, Rarity turned to follow the thestral’s line of—

Something slammed into Rarity’s midsection with such force it took her off her hooves. She might have screamed, but since the impact knocked all the air from her lungs she managed only a weak grunt. The world spun, the noise acting as a hammer bouncing inside her skull! She could make out enough of her situation to know she wasn’t falling, but the world was too much of a blur to determine anything else. Up was down, the road was the sky and vice versa, and something was pulling her!

At last, the spinning stopped, although the world continued to rotate in her eyes. Her mane whipped about in a wild wind and she could feel something holding her up by the waist and legs.

“Hey, babe! Fancy running into you here.”

Blue arms. Blue face. Ruby eyes beneath a wildly waving rainbow mane.

“You!” Rarity might have pushed away were the bounty hunter not the only thing keeping her from falling off the high-speed vehicle. She glanced over to see that, indeed, they were riding Little Lightning. Ponies were diving out of the way as the pegasus somehow kept the machine running straight without hands. “W-what are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed?”

“I was just going for a ride and saw a hottie I could grab.” The one-winged pegasus smirked. “What? You looked like the type for high-speed romances.”

Only a strong self-control, won by a glance at the cobblestones blurring past her vision, kept Rarity from reaching for Ruby Heart. “Get me off this thing before I do something we’ll both regret!”

The mare responded by tightening her hold on Rarity’s shoulders and legs. “No need to fake it for my sake, babe. I know I’m too awesome to refuse.” She glanced over her shoulder, smile fading to a scowl. “Buuut I’m afraid it just wasn’t meant to be. I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s me. Say ‘hi’ to the tailchaser for me, would ya?”

“Tailchaiser? What are you—?” Rarity shouted as she was tipped head-first over the mare’s shoulder. She spotted Little Lightning’s pack-laden backside and had to reach out to keep from smacking her muzzle on the hard metal. The weight of her backpack flipped her hooves-over-head. She went airborne, screaming all the while. The world blurred yet again, and she had just enough time to see something golden and grey flying at her.

Whatever it was, it collided with her in midair, stealing her breath and slowing her downward momentum. Tangled up with another body, she hit the ground on her hip and cringed at the feel of the roadway biting into her. After a few painful bounces, Rarity was on her side in the middle of the street. The other body slid a little further away, and Rarity recognized it instantly. She opened her mouth to speak, but had no air in her lungs with which to do so.

A.K. Yearling was back on her hooves and taking wing in an instant. She looked back at Rarity, face set in a grimace. “Hey Princess glad you’re alive and kicking gotta go bye come back here you brainless blue bandit!” In a blur, she was gone, curses and insults echoing in her wake.

Rarity stared, chest heaving, as the pegasus disappeared around a corner, the roar of Little Lightning gradually fading. When her breath finally came back she sat up, flinching as tiny loose stones stuck to her hide and her bones informed her of their displeasure. Even after being properly seated, she could do nothing but stare at the darkening horizon. Citizens were slowly going back to their business, although several were gaping at Rarity as if she could somehow explain what just happened.

“Are you okay, miss?”

She turned her eyes to the teenage mare that was now kneeling beside her. Instead of locking on her face, however, Rarity’s gaze fell upon a saloon just down the street.

“Fuck it.”

She climbed to her hooves, ignoring the queries of the good samaritan, and trudged for the swinging doors.





Rarity was a lady of fine wines. She preferred to take dainty sips to check the texture and quality of her alcohol, only accepting larger swallows when sure nopony was looking. She would conduct herself with class and sophistication, and never drink so much as to ruin her thinking and risk making a fool of herself in public.

Hard whiskey, then, was far beyond her capacity to handle.

A full glass slid across the counter, stopping neatly beside five empty ones. Rarity sucked down half of it, swaying in her seat. The world had decided to start spinning at the slightest motion, but she just added it to the growing list of things wrong with said world. She hunched over the glass, ignorant of the music, the empty glasses at her elbow, the way her frazzled mane hung around her face, or the barstool next to her as it was abruptly occupied. She just stared into the amber liquid, hunched over and feeling a hundred times heavier than usual. Or was it lighter?

One more thing to confuse her. “What’s the matter, Equestria?” she slurred through her frown. “Still haven’t figured out how to beat this mare down?” Another sip. “I’ll… outlast you. I won’t fall until I’ve drowned every sorrow in this nasty nectar.” She turned, ready to gesture for another glass.

Her actions came to a halt at the sight of what was beside her. A dog. A… What were they called? Broader collee? Hoarder collar? Dumb, brown dog. There, that sufficed. Perhaps she was hallucinating. Could too much drinking make you hallucinate?

She watched in quiet fascination as the bartender set a wide, shallow bowl before the dog and poured it some booze straight from the bottle. The dog wasted no time lapping it up.

Yes, she had to be hallucinating. She turned from the dog to peer at her quarter-full drink, leaning heavily against the counter. “What in Equestria am I drowning my sorrows in?”

“Ya’ll sure you ain’t trying to drown yourself instead?”

Blinking was hard, what with her eyelids being weighed down by invisible bricks. Without sitting up, Rarity risked the vengeance of a swirling world to tilt her head left. An earth pony mare sat beside her, orange coated and blonde. Had she been there a second ago? A lovely pair of sap green eyes met hers. Three pairs. No, just one. Closing her eyes tight, Rarity looked back down and waited for her stool to hold still. “I’m the last pony who’d drown in booze.”

She would also be the last pony to drink booze, but here she was.

“Dunno, looks like the booze is winnin’.”

Growling, she chugged the rest of her glass, slammed it on the table and signaled… somewhere… for another. “Nonsense. I never lose. I only regret winning.”

A deep, pleasant chuckle. “You’ll be regretting it, alright.”

“And who are you to…” Half-turned to her companion, Rarity had to pause as her body tilted far to the left. She held a glass high in her hand, determined to protect the unholy substance within as she fought to right herself. An indeterminate time later, Equestria decided to cut her some slack and slowed down. Properly seated, she lowered the glass and used the same hand to point at the Stetson-wearing mare. “Who are you to lecture me? The booze sheriff?” She tried to take a sip, only to find that, somehow, Equestria had stolen her whiskey.

The mare tapped the counter and signaled something. “Friends call me AJ.”

“And what do your non-friends call you?” Rarity poked the mare’s shoulder before putting her glass back down. She noted that a fresh glass had miraculously appeared while she’d been turned away, and she promptly snatched it up. She raised it to her lips, but paused as the smell struck her nostrils. “Why am I drinking this trash again?”

“What you need,” AJ replied, raising a tall bottle in her hands, “is some proper nectar.”

It took a lot of squinting, grumbling, and a couple sips of whisky before Rarity could make out the label on the bottle. Well, the picture was a fuzzy blur and the words indecipherable, but she got the gist. “Looks like an apple. I hate apples.”

“No ya don’t.” AJ poured some of the liquid in two fresh glasses that had materialized out of nowhere. Her cheeks were real pink for some reason. “Y’all just haven’t tried the right apple. Now this, this is premium Apple Family cider. High on taste, a bit lower in the kick.”

Leaning precariously towards her, Rarity finished off her glass and set it aside. “I’ve had enough ‘kicks’ to last…” She paused, counting on her fingers. Why did she have so many fingers? “One whole lifetime.”

“This is the good kinda kick, promise.”

“Promise, promise, promise. You know the problem with promises, AJ?” Rarity slapped a hand on the big mare’s shoulder and pointed at her again. “They sound so… so pretty. They’re not pretty. They’re ugly and uncouth and don’t understand the meaning of fashionably late.” A bleary blink. “What were we talking about?”

A glass of dark liquid appeared before her muzzle. “Apples.”

“Apples!” She swiped the glass with a scowl. “I hate apples!” She took a big sip, paused. Licking her lips, she wondered about the pleasant liquid abruptly assaulting her gums. She peered at the glass, half expecting it to explain the abrupt uptick in quality. “Why are you so good? You’re not supposed to be good.”

AJ flashed a smirk in the corner of her eye, cheeks still rosey. Like a pleasant sunrise. Or that ugly dress Sweetie made for herself once. “Well, looks as if ya like apples after all.”

“I do not! Whoa…” In her hurry to point at AJ, Rarity almost fell off her stool. Stupid thing, why wouldn’t it hold still? Gripping AJ’s arm for support, she gradually righted herself and took another sip. “But I might like these apples,” she admitted begrudgingly, raising the glass slightly.

The young mare smiled warmly. She had a very nice smile. Nice like her eyes. “Glad to hear it, miss. And what would your name be, if’n I might ask?”

Rarity peered at the pony. “Who wants to know?”

“AJ.”

“Oh.” She teetered back on her stool and looked forward once more. “Right. Forgot.” Sip. “Oh. Empty. More apple, please?”

Another one of those pleasant-sounding chuckles. “I’ll give ya more ‘apple’ if you give me a name.”

“You’ve got a name. Don’t you? Ah.” She slouched towards AJ and offered her glass with a pleading pout. “You meant mine. Apple?” When her pleading tone only earned a smirk and a teasing shake of the bottle, she huffed. “Fine. It’s Rarity. Or—” she raised her hands and made quote marks “—Bulletproof Heart, if you prefer. And you don’t prefer, thank you very much.” She thrust out her glass expectantly.

With a light huff of a laugh, AJ refilled the proffered glass. “That’s a mighty fine name ya got there, Miss Rarity.”

“Of course it is! It’s mine!” She slammed her glass on the table and cast a one-eyed glare at the mare, not easy considering that pretty blur of a head kept wobbling around in her vision. She maintained the glare for a few seconds(?) longer, then abruptly leaned back. “I have no idea where I was going with that.” Sip. How’d she get apple cider on her fingers? How terribly unseemly.

AJ grinned, leaning with elbow on the counter and cheek in her palm. “You’re a funny drunk, Miss Rarity.”

“I am not a—!” The world tilted wildly. AJ caught her shoulder, keeping her from falling forward. Rarity’s eyes settled on the half-empty glass in her hand. Gradually, her gaze drifted to the empty glasses already on the counter.

Her entire body felt as if it was sinking into the floorboards. She set the glass aside and leaned heavily against the counter. “What am I doing?”

“Uh, taking a break?”

“A break.” She let that idea stew in her head for a moment. Maybe more than a moment, her head was awfully slow tonight. A quiet giggle left her, bitter and short. “Yes, that’s what I need. A break. A break from running for my life. A break from failing to be a good friend. A break from shooting half the ponies I meet.” Wobbling a little, she turned to AJ. “I’ll probably end up shooting you before too long. Just to keep the odds straight.”

AJ was pouring another glass of cider. That cute little fire was back in her cheeks. “I don’t think I’d mind bein’ shot by you.”

Rarity cocked her head to one side, an act that had her leaning precariously. “I thought I was supposed to be the drunk in this conversation.” She grabbed one of the empty glasses and offered it with a hopeful “Apples?”

That warm smile returned. More cider poured into Rarity’s glass. “Don’t you worry none, little darling.

“There’s plenty more apple where that came from.”

The dog let out a bark.





Was that a marching band using Rarity’s skull for practice? And wearing iron hooves, no less. She groaned, pulling the quilt over her face to block out the hot knife that was the sunlight. She’d had a hangover before, but this was brutal. What in Celestia’s name had she been thinking?

She tried to be as still as possible. It didn’t help much. Gritting her teeth, she risked pushing the covers down and taking a peek. The sun sliced at her eyeballs, but she did her level best to keep her lids at least open enough to take in her surroundings. She was in… a rented room? Plain wood walls, not-quite-closed blinders on a window, one dusty dresser where her shirt lay discarded.

Her shirt?

Moving with extreme slowness lest she upset the alcohol gods, Rarity lifted the quilt and sheet and looked at her nude form. When had that happened? Last night was such an abysmal blur, she couldn’t even remember renting the room. And where were her guns? Not having those made her feel more naked than the lack of clothes.

Hissing through clenched teeth, she forced herself to sit up, the covers slumping off her shoulders. Blinking to clear her vision a little more, she gingerly stretched, then rubbed her temples with both hands. She’d never gone on such a binge before, and based on her experience this morning she had no desire to do it again. Now she would have to continue her journey while dealing with—

A sigh rose through the air. Rarity froze upon realizing it hadn’t been her own. Body tense, she tentatively turned to her right. Lying in bed next to her, face down, was a muscular orange mare with a blonde mane, nude as the day she was born. Her cutie mark of an apple cut into five even pieces by a bullet was out in the open and everything!

With a squeaky yelp, Rarity clutched the quilt to her chest and sidled away from her unknown guest. Her heart slammed against her ribcage as she stared at that pretty orange face. The mare didn’t seem to notice, or to even be awake.

Oh, Luna. Please tell me I didn’t.

Slipping out of the bed, she stepped away until her back hit the wall. Trembling, she sank to the floor and wrapped her arms around her naked self. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. The mare was still there. A few more tries failed to get rid of the sight. Gradually, it became more and more clear that this was no nightmare.

Her first time. It was with a mare. While so drunk she couldn’t even remember. Tears welled in her eyes as she pressed her hands to her cheeks, unable to rip her eyes away from the bed and its lone occupant. What had she done? How could she let herself descend to such… such depravity?

She rocked in place, vision blurring and head pounding. Her throat constricted, her thighs burned. The last trace of her innocence, the one piece of sanctity she had left, gone! She clamped her lips closed against the sob that tried to escape her aching lungs. Spreading her legs like a common whorse. What would her parents think of this? She didn’t deserve to see them again. Maybe they were better without their sinful, murderous slut of a daughter. And Sweetie… poor, loving Sweetie. She’d never be able to look into those adoring green eyes again!

Green eyes?

Green eyes. She remembered, faintly… green eyes. From last night?

Rarity’s gaze centered on the mare in the bed, sleeping blissfully. Smiling. Happy. Rarity thought she should be angry, but all she felt was the ice in her veins and the dirt on her coat. Her skin itched with a fresh feeling of grit and nastiness. She could take a hundred baths and not feel clean again. And that mare, that… that pervert had done this. She’d taken advantage of her!

Breathing erratic, legs barely able to support her weight, Rarity stood and sought out her belongings. The motion caught the attention of a Border Collie lying in the corner atop a rug, who watched her move about with a face that seemed mockingly happy. Everything was there, intermixed with the stranger’s things. Two small guns with ammunition cartridges that reminded her of harmonicas, a long coil of rope. The mare’s clothes in a mess, suggesting they’d been thrown off with wild abandon. The thought only made Rarity feel more like dirt. No, less than dirt. Her first time…

Clothes on, weapons reacquired, Rarity found herself standing at the door and staring at the handle. Suddenly, just the act of leaving the room seemed like an impossible hurdle. She was supposed to be going to Mooisville to save her family. Instead, she’d wasted a night letting some stranger treat her like a cheap hooker. If she couldn’t protect herself from this wickedness, what chance did she have at protecting them from anything?

Her thoughts drifted to the Shrouding Midnight cowering in her suite. Another pony broken by the drifter’s life. Maybe… Maybe Rarity was doomed to these miseries. She squirmed, remembering the feel of Braeburn, the probing touch of Panting. This mysterious, evil mare had gotten to the places they couldn’t.

She turned to stare at the stranger, who remained unconscious. The dirty, tangled blonde mane, the muscles of her exposed back, the soft, smiling face. So many stallions had tried, but all that mare had to do was be at the right place at the wrong time. And why? Why had Rarity let it happen?

Rolling back her sleeve, she took a good, long look at the sigil Marble had gifted her. She thought about her family, about the Pie siblings, about Fluttershy and Spike and Shining Armor. She glanced at the sleeping mare and considered how easy it would be to put a bullet in her head. And though a new fire was rising in her chest, threatening to make something nasty inside boil over, Rarity refused to grab either of her weapons.

This mare might have taken her marehood, but there was still one thing Rarity had. By the Sisters, she would preserve that last bit of decency. She was not a killer.

“I hope you enjoyed it, you bitch,” she hissed beneath her breath. “Because if I ever see you again, I won’t be so kind.”

She stepped out, mind blocking out her shame by focusing on the road ahead.
> Episode 14: Mare on Fire
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


28th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


They came for her in the fields north of Hoofington, when the city was still taking up half the horizon. It was night and the thestrals were out and about, diligently tending to the farms. Had Rarity not been keeping a lookout, she might not have noticed the three dozen ponies converging on her from all directions. Most tried to cover their approach by pretending to be farmhands or keeping low in the fields.

But Rarity was no longer a mere rookie. She saw them coming when they were still several minutes away. A day or two ago, she might have started panicking. She might have acknowledged their overwhelming numbers and fretted over her impending doom. In any other circumstance the small army of ponies, be they Gang members or bounty hunters, might have had an easy time. There was only one problem: they caught her in a foul mood, and her trigger fingers were itching.

She turned off the path and into the wheat fields, moving fast and low. Her direction was by no means random. It took her almost ten minutes to reach her target, a chubby bounty hunter riding a sleek, midnight blue Dust Devil. She had no idea how close they were to his cohorts, but she’d have to chance it. He passed within a dozen feet, head swiveling about as he searched for her. By the smirk on his face, he no doubt thought they had her beat.

So when she rushed in and climbed on the sand lizard behind him, he didn’t even try to stop her. Before he could say anything, Rarity snatched his pistol from its holster and pressed it against the back of his head. “You have three seconds to get off.”

He turned to glare at her with one eye. “If you think I’m gonna—” The bullet burst out the other side of his head.

“Warned you.” She shoved him off with some difficulty, her ears picking up the startled, high-pitched screeches the thestrals were known for. They were flying away from the scene for all they were worth, and the large posse was converging on her, all pretense of stealth abandoned.

Snatching the reins with one hand, she bent low and hissed at her new mount, “If you die on me I will be very cross with you.” A snap and she was racing northwest. She spared a second to check the gun she’d appropriated from the stallion: revolver, five shots left, lighter than Ruby Heart. It would do for now. Next, a quick examination of her situation. Ignoring the obvious paths, she cut across the fields on her way to a bridge over the Hoofington River. The mass of hunters were trying to move in, but most would never get to her in time.

“Alright, you foul wretches,” she snarled, releasing the reins and pulling out Ruby Heart. “You want to treat me like a game animal? Let’s fucking play.”

Shots rang out. Three riders were at her back, forming an arrow formation as they struggled to make up lost ground. Rarity was patient with her aim, using her stolen revolver first. It took three shots to bring down the pack leader, and she suspected that was only by luck. The last two bullets achieved nothing, and she promptly threw the gun away and snatched up Silver Lining.

Others in the rapidly shrinking circle of hunters were opening fire now, but the lack of near impacts or zipping sounds told her they were either out of range or the worst shots in Equestria. Her attention went forward, where she spotted a group of five or six ponies attempting to head her off. She bared her teeth and readied her magic. They were still some ways distant, so she turned back to fire a couple more shots at her pursuers. She had no problems with accuracy this time, felling both of them with only three shots. The sight of them falling did nothing for her; no excitement, no pleasure, no guilt. Only a boiling fire that spurred her onwards to the next set of deaths.

They came willingly, forming a standing wall of firepower between her and the bridge.

The Yellow barrier, once just a construct in her mind, came into blue being with a flash of her horn the instant they opened fire. Shots ricocheted off of it, each hit a tiny hammer against her skull. She hissed, growled, grinned at the pain, barreling towards the defenders with both guns raised. Their shots useless, the ponies’ line wavered. The firing became sporadic.

She could see their faces. Surprise. Alarm. Fear. Panic.

“That’s right, you cretins,” she snarled under her breath. “How does it feel to be afraid, hmm? Tell me what it’s like to be the game. Tell me.

“Tell me!”

She smashed shrieking through their already shattered line, shield dropped and guns ablaze. The hunters screamed and fled in every direction. A blink later and they’d gone, nothing between her and the bridge. She twisted back to fire a few last shots, noting how very few of them got back up. Soon she was crossing the Hoofington River and headed offroad due north.

“You don’t get to fuck with me anymore.” Her eyes turned forward. A fresh cylinder, encased in her magic, snapped into Silver Lining. New 45 rounds levitated into Ruby Heart’s magazine.

“I’ve had enough of that.”





They came again only hours later. She’d been resting on a tall hill covered by dried up bushes, watching for their approach while her newly acquired mount rested. As such, she saw them coming well in advance. Clearly these hunters weren’t going to stop chasing her anytime soon, and she couldn’t face all of them. Nor could she hope to outpace them, not when she didn’t know the terrain and had the same mount they did.

She would have to play a running game. Pick them off a little at a time as she moved north. Sneak in attacks from advantageous positions, then get out while they were confused. This way she’d keep them in her sights and avoid being caught by surprise.

She started by making her way west. The hunters were traversing the terrain in a wide spacing, perhaps in an attempt to not bypass her. She found a place of thick bushes tall enough to conceal her mount and herself if the sand lizard crouched and she leaned forward. The ponies on the far western flank of the line approached at a steady pace, observing the land with little interest. Clearly, they didn’t expect her to be there.

The thought brought a grin to her lips.

A mare on hoof moved close to her hiding spot. She leaned towards the bushes, eyeing them with a bored expression. She paused, did a double take. “Uh, guys—”

Rarity burst forward, her sand lizard knocking the hunter sideways with one easy swing of its head. By the time the others had turned to investigate, she’d brought the two closest down with individual shots from Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. She’d already plowed through their flimsy line when they pulled their weapons out. Rarity wasted no time trying to finish the group off, instead spurring her steed north and through the hills. Her guns sprayed lead death until they ran empty, and then she was darting between valleys and out of sight.

Rarity guessed she’d killed five with that little stunt, assuming the mare had survived the hit from her Dust Devil. Their shouts and shots were already dying down, and when she looked back she saw no pursuers. Not that she trusted that with the terrain. She rode her Dust Devil hard through the winding landscape, determined to get as much of a lead as possible before slowing down.

As Silver Lining and Ruby Heart were reloaded, she hissed under her breath, “I won’t let you touch me again.”





The hunters were getting smarter, moving in tighter formations and keeping better watch of their surroundings. After getting bloodied five times by her little hit and runs, she wasn’t surprised. Rarity needed to change strategies too.

But tonight she had a far more important objective. Travelling alone was one thing, but now she had a Dust Devil for company. She’d taken to calling him Cerulean, and she needed to keep his needs in mind. On top of that list was food and water. Rarity had fed him a little from her own rations – what little was suitable for him – but would have to get something better if she didn’t want him to starve or, worse, go feral on her from hunger. Mooisville was still the better of two weeks away, after all.

And so she left him behind at a small stream, tied to a dead tree that would do nothing to stop him if he really wanted to escape, but would at least discourage it. Creeping through the rough, rocky hills, she made her way towards the hunters in the middle of their search line.

Rarity had learned things in her brief attacks. For one, they weren’t using any wagons. In all likelihood, they had expected to catch her outside of Hoofington. At least a third of their original number hadn’t bothered to continue the chase, likely because they weren’t properly equipped for a prolonged hunt. The rest had to be carrying their own gear, and only a quarter of those who remained rode sand lizards.

That meant they had to stop and rest periodically. Well, perhaps not had to, but they made no attempt to march all day and night. That would work in Rarity’s favor this evening.

She found the hunters’ camp after only an hour of walking. They’d come together for the night, unwilling to leave one another in isolated groups. Nestled among the boulders atop a hill, she eyed their campfires. She couldn’t see well enough in the darkness to make a proper count, but she guessed around sixteen were down there. If she was correct about her kill count, that left eight standing guard or patrolling.

They were learning, but not well enough, not yet. She spied their sand lizards in a small group on the eastern edge of the camp. That made things much easier. Staying low and keeping stones between her and the camp whenever possible, she circled around. For the first time in her life, she cursed her pearly white coat for making stealth that much more difficult.

Now due east of the camp, Rarity dared to creep closer. Moving slow, she went from rock to shrubs to rock. Her eyes rarely left the camp. Somehow, nopony seemed to notice her approach. For that she thanked Luna’s stars. If she was spotted now, she doubted she’d be able to escape at all, much less without injury. Still, she’d done crazier things than try to sneak up on a camp full of bloodthirsty bounty hunters.

Hadn’t she? She paused to consider the question, but tossed it aside just as quickly as it had come up. No time to think, only do.

At last, Rarity was as close as she could be under cover behind a particularly large boulder. She crept on her hands and knees to get a look at her target. The sand lizards were no more than forty feet away, dozing about or munching from feedbags attached to their muzzles. There were five of the creatures, all tied to a nearby manzanita tree that somehow defied the dryness and heat of its surroundings. She seriously doubted the plant’s ability to hold the creatures should they decide to bolt. She considered the possibility of making exactly that happen, but discounted it. Everypony in camp would notice a ruckus like that, and she still had to get back to Cerulean without being noticed.

A cursory glance revealed no guards roaming in her immediate vicinity. “Alright, Rarity,” she muttered under her breath. “This is it. Just… get across a wide, open space and hope nopony notices your brilliant white coat against the dark of night. Easy.” Another long study of the clearing ahead. If she kept low, she might be able to use the creatures themselves for cover. “Think of the situation. Go back empty handed and hope you can keep Cerulean fed and content for another day or two, or risk it all trying to steal him some proper food for a Dust Devil.”

Option number one was almost certainly the most appropriate. She’d get other opportunities, after all. And yet Rarity found herself bracing for option two instead. She was a drifter now. A cruel, mean, violent gunslinger. She had to learn to take risks.

And so she left the safety of the boulder and approached, bent at a crouch and moving at a light jog. She guessed that she’d be more noticeable if she ran outright, but the itching desire to be out of sight kept her from moving slowly.

A curious thought came to her as she slipped through the darkness: shouldn’t she be afraid? All it would take was one pair of eyes drifting in her direction at the right time and it would be over. Fear would be an appropriate response, most certainly. There was a certain anxiety, a rush of adrenaline that seeped into her veins and kept her moving. Perhaps fear was also in there somewhere, hidden just beneath the surface. That and incredulity of her own actions.

Yet, as she reached the sand lizards without so much as a shout from the ponies in the camp, Rarity could detect no fear. Her blood pumped, but was it from the brief jog or from some hidden, unclear dread in her subconsciousness? She couldn’t tell. Perhaps she should be disturbed. All she felt was a cool relief that, somehow, she’d made it here unnoticed.

A subject for another time. With a quick check to make absolutely sure none of the hunters had noticed her arrival, Rarity began looking through the panniers and bags still attached to the Dust Devils. For their part, the creatures paid her little mind beyond a bored glance or two. She found a curious range of things, from notebooks to what appeared to be an engagement ring, but mostly food. She left all of that alone. She had plenty of her own food and little interest in the other things.

At last, on the third lizard, she discovered a large bag filled with feed. It even had straps on the side so that she could attach it to Cerulean’s gear as a feedbag, although she doubted she’d want to do that. Now she faced the problem of getting the bag off the saddle. Thick ropes held it in place, and the bag’s weight made it impossible to untie the knots. After much fiddling and grumbling, she finally realized that she’d have to lift the bag and untie the rope at the same time.

Luckily, this would prove no challenge. Years of working in the shop made her adept at handling several objects at once in her magic. Unluckily, the significant weight of the bag would strain her magical prowess. Could she hold something so heavy in her magic and use it to untie the knots at the same time? A quick tug on the ropes told her she probably wouldn’t be able to get the tight knots undone the old-fashioned way.

She took an extra moment to examine the camp. Nopony was coming her way, but if anypony chose to then she’d have only seconds to clear forty feet and not get caught. Worse, she couldn’t even keep watch for their approach. All her attention would have to be on her work, and that would have to be done on her knees to ensure the glow of her horn wasn’t visible to the camp. A troublesome and undeniably dangerous situation as any she’d ever been involved in.

What choice do I have?

You could always head back empty handed.

After coming so far?

It’s the smart, safe thing to do and you know it.

Screw safety. Safety gave me up for dead a season ago.

Now you sound like a child.

Shut up. I’m doing this.

On hands and knees, she started by imagining a lovely Indigo, which she wrapped tightly about the bag. Channeling her magic, she saw the blue glow of her aura surround the object. To her frustration, it didn’t budge. Adjusting tactics, she began adding in her mind’s eye Blue to the Indigo. Not a blend, but more of a shell of Blue over Indigo. The addition of ‘energy’ to ‘force’ gradually built up the strength of the spell, until at last the bag began to levitate. The more Blue she added, the higher it rose.

Once the bag was up a few inches – enough to loosen the ropes that had been holding it – her attention went to the knots themselves. She considered using Red magic, but cast the thought aside; it would be best to have the ropes intact for her own uses. She wasn’t well versed in destructive magic anyway, and didn’t want to harm the sand lizard in the process. No, she stuck to her specialty, carefully coiling thin strings of Blue and Indigo about the ropes. It was delicate work, made all the harder by the fact she had to maintain her ratio of colors on the bag itself while doing so.

The left knot was gripped in all the right places, and when Rarity released the spell the thing untied itself with ease. Surprising ease, at that. With how heavy the bag was, she’d anticipated the rope to give some resistance from being locked in place for so long. No matter, the thing was half-free. Her attention went to the second knot, her mind’s eye already applying the magical grips.

The spell released. The knot shifted… and remained.

Peeling her lips back over her teeth, Rarity tried again. Same effect. Huffing, she checked that the colors on the feed bag were intact before applying thicker, denser Blue bands to the knot. This time it loosened, but not enough to break free. Still, it would probably be enough. Rarity reached in with both hands and attempted to loosen the knot. It obeyed, to her relief. Working carefully, she reduced the colors of the magic on the bag until it gently landed in the dirt.

Alright, Rarity. Step two of three complete. Now for the hard part.

She peered over the snoozing sand lizard. The coast remained clear. A glance left, then right showed no guards nearby. Lucky, that. Where they too lazy to walk the entire perimeter, or just incompetent? Either way, she knew she had to capitalize on the situation while she still could. Turning back to the feed bag, she made sure it was closed properly before grabbing the ropes and attempting to lift the bag. It was much heavier than it looked. Rarity might have a leaner figure with her new lifestyle, but her muscles being more visible wasn’t necessarily because she was stronger.

Magic was out of the question. Her white coat and pale shirt were obvious enough, she didn’t need the glow of her horn announcing her presence to anyone within a thousand feet. With no other options, she lifted the bag with a grunt and made her way back to the boulder some forty feet distant. She had to maintain a slow, loping walk, shifting her hips from side to side with every step. Every time she lifted a leg she hissed through clenched teeth. The ropes bit mercilessly into her palms, but she didn’t dare pause for a break. Not until she was hidden. Not until she was safe.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Rarity at last rounded the boulder. With a relieved groan, she set the feed bag down and stretched her legs. Her hands had become red and raw, and she opened and closed them several times to get the numb tingling to go away. Even as she did, she snuck to the edge of the boulder and checked the camp. No reaction whatsoever. With a heavy sigh, she finally relaxed. Looked like she’d gotten away with it.

Moving back to the feed bag, she opened it once more. Yes, this amount would likely last Cerulean long enough to get her to Mooisville. Maybe there she could get a proper saddle, one fitted to her size. That assumed she even wanted to keep him. Even in her emotionally numb state, she felt a haunting trepidation riding a Dust Devil again.

It was another hundred feet or so to the top of the next hill, and Rarity wasn’t eager to carry the bag that kind of distance. Still, she was far too close to the camp to dare light her horn. She was also too close to be considered safe from the patrols. She grimaced and bent down to grab the ropes. They bit hard against her palms, but she ground her teeth and lifted.

A sharp, cool edge touched the small of her back when she was only halfway out of her crouch. “Hello, Miss Heart.”

She tensed, not daring to rise any higher. Her position was extremely uncomfortable, but she knew the touch of a knife when she felt it. Her teeth let out a tiny squeak as she rubbed them together. Slowly, she started to lower—

“No. Hold still.”

Rarity groaned, knees wobbling from the weight of the feed bag and her poor posture. “Y-you’ve got to be kidding me.” Her arms were already aching, a gentle tingle of fire starting at her elbows.

“Kidding you?” He sounded young. “After the shit you put us through today, I’m enjoying this.”

The strain was threatening to topple her forward. She tilted her head slightly to the side, but couldn’t make out her captor. “So, what? You’ll k-kill me if I drop the bag? Because I’m going to soon, one way or another.”

“Y’know, that sounds good to me.” Young and immature. More likely to do something stupid. “So yeah. Drop the bag, you die. Let’s see how long you last.”

How to get out of this situation? She couldn’t move her legs in this position, and even if she could he’d probably stab her for trying. Her horn was right out. That left… Her eyes dropped to the bag in her hands. She thought about his position behind her and his terms. He hadn’t called to the others yet. Confident, then. And why not? He appeared to hold all the cards.

Her arms were trembling. She had to tighten her grip to keep the rope from slipping. Her breathing came in long, tense hisses. By now her entire body was aching from her uncomfortable position. But the beginnings of a plan were forming. The question was whether she could move fast enough.

She began preparing the spell. A little Indigo and a lot of Blue. The timing had to be right, the force had to be enough. She couldn’t be fully confident, but the burn in her arms made it clear she was out of time. Clenching her eyes tightly closed, she forced words through her shaking teeth. “W-wouldn’t I be m-more valuable to you alive?”

“Look, you stupid bi—”

Rarity stopped fighting the weight of the feed bag, even as she maintained her tense, hunched stance. It promptly dropped, and jerked her down as it did. She rolled forward, over the bag and away from the knife. She didn’t finish the roll, instead letting herself land hard on her back. Her horn was alight well before then, and her eyes locked with the snarling face of a young, blue-maned earth pony. Her hand snapped open the safety clip on her ammo bag an instant before she released the spell.

One of Silver Lining’s cylinders shot out, propelled by a touch of levitation and a lot of energy. Her aim was true: it smashed into his open mouth, stopping his shout before it could even begin. The stallion’s eyes boggled as he choked on the chunk of metal, his free hand going up to his mouth.

She was on him not a second later, vaulting the feed bag and slamming into his chest shoulder first. The two fell to the ground and began to grapple, Rarity slapping a hand over his muzzle to keep the cylinder in place while her other forced the knife back. He glared up at her even as he coughed around the improvised gag.

With the strength only an earth pony could possess, he grabbed her arm and started pulling it away from his mouth. But Rarity wasn’t so easily beaten: her horn lit up, encasing his muzzle in a blue glow and clamping it tightly closed. So tight, in fact, she even closed his nostrils. His eyes widened yet again as he recognized her intention, and this time there was a touch of fear mixed in with the alarm. He promptly changed tactics, using his free hand to punch her face.

It hurt, but she’d been hit far harder before. She caught his wrist and wrestled it, unable to hold back his strength but at least managing to soften the blows. She straddled his chest to get her face out of range.

Only then did she notice how dangerously close the knife was getting. The sharp tip barely cut into the side of her shirt, and she realized her new position was terrible for resisting it. Snarling, she grasped it in her aura and redirected it towards his chest, her magic struggling against his strength. He began to make strange, whining sounds through his closed muzzle.

Abruptly, he changed tactics, letting go of the knife entirely. Now caught in just her magic, it went swirling sideways and bounced against the boulder next to them. Caught off guard, Rarity was entirely unprepared for when he grabbed her by the waist and threw her over his head. Barely managing to keep from shouting, she landed hard on her elbows and knees with a grunt.

She scrambled away, but he caught her leg and pulled. She spun about, the motion coincidentally letting her face avoid his fist as it smashed the dirt. She raised her arms, protecting her head and horn from his next few blows. She could see panic in his eyes as her spell continued to hold his mouth and nose shut.

Don’t let go, she told herself forcefully. He’ll kill you if you let go. You or him, remember? Don’t let go!

He clawed at her arms, pulled them apart, but had to let go to strike at her horn. She refused to give him the opportunity to break her spell, no matter how much her arms stung from each blow. His whining increased in pace, almost sounding like a wordless plea, and tears formed in his eyes. Still, she didn’t let go. His trembling hands wrapped about her neck, lifted her up, shoved it down against the ground. But the force was weak. His legs collapsed from under him, and he lay atop her.

Rarity felt the air leave her lungs. He was on her. He was touching her. His eyes boring into hers, his fingers around her neck, his thighs weighing against her own—

She headbutted his nose and, with a strength she didn’t know she possessed, rolled his spasming body off her. Not wasting any time, she grabbed his head and slammed it against the boulder. He whined, rolled onto his back, stared up at her with pleading, watery eyes. His arms tried to rise, but did nothing to stop her from straddling his chest once more.

She punched.

And punched.

And punched some more. Every blow shot a hiss of air between her clenched teeth. She hardly noticed when he stopped moving, she just kept hitting. She could feel it, the burning between her legs, the fingers on her breasts, the tongue rolling with hers. Every blow was a salve, a hot, sticky tincture of amnesia to remind her that it did not happen.

She had no idea how long she’d been there. When she finally came to, her knuckles felt raw and wet. She stared down at the body, unable to recognize how it had come to be there. She felt so… numb. What was she doing here? Why was she straddling a corpse? This was wrong. This was… this wasn’t her.

The camp. The feed bag. She had a job to do.

On wobbly legs, she stood and walked to her prize. Grasping it with both hands, she lifted it up and began her trek to the hill. She had to shuffle to move with any sort of speed. She barely noticed the weight or the pain in her back or the sting of the rope in her hands.

She stared straight ahead.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t feel it.

It didn’t happen.





It happened, and the hunters were none too pleased. This explained why Rarity was riding at breakneck speed through the hills, ducking her head while bullets zipped over her shoulder. And here she’d thought skipping sleep for a few nights would give her an effective lead!

At least they were single-minded. Rarity noted a distinct lack of strategy other than ‘chase her and shoot’. And since only the ones riding on lizardback had caught up to her, that essentially left her only having to fight six ponies. Only. Taking a moment to grab the reins, Rarity guided Cerulean into a low valley. Temporarily protected from gunfire, she whipped her own weapons out. If she was right about the angle…

She turned in the saddle and aimed at the top of the hill to her left. A few seconds later, the first rider appeared. He hollered and rode back down when Rarity opened fire. She could only assume she’d missed. If only she’d allowed herself some sleep last night! But no, then she’d be dealing with the entire posse and not just a few—

She cursed as more shots rang through the air. Less thinking, more shooting, Rarity! She whirled about and fired on the pursuers, who swerved to evade. A few seconds later Cerulean turned on his own to climb a small hill. Moving with the efficiency of practice, Rarity swapped cylinders in Silver Lining. If only she hadn’t left that one behind!

No, don’t think about that. It didn’t happen.

Predicting their movements, Rarity used her magic to tug on the reins, encouraging Cerulean to go left when they were just under the opposite crest of the hill. The thudding of the beast’s claws echoed in her ears, intermixed with her own heartbeat. Little thought guided her actions beyond instinct and reaction, and the adrenaline masked the fear bubbling just beneath the surface. She welcomed the numbing effects, welcomed the threat, welcomed the ceaseless action of the fight.

Two riders appeared on the hill just ahead. They weren’t looking towards her, undoubtedly having not expected her aggressive rush. By the time they did notice, it was too late: Ruby Heart and Silver Lining put new holes in the closest one. The second rider cried out in alarm and tried to aim his rifle, but his shot went wide. Two more from Rarity landed a hit to his shoulder. Unable to raise his rifle, he retreated, but not without shouting her location for the others. She considered putting a bullet in his back for that.

Instead, she turned Cerulean back over the hill. If she could keep up this momentum—

Cerulean crashed into the shoulder of another sand lizard with enough force to slam Rarity forward in her saddle. She doubled over, barely managing to hold onto Silver Lining and Ruby Heart as the two lizards reared back and tried to separate from one another. Rarity and the unicorn mare riding the other lizard shared alarmed looks as their animals backed off.

Then Rarity rewarded the mare’s slowness with a bullet to the chest.

“Would somepony please kill her?”

Rarity’s shield came up just in time to avoid a few shots from the speaker, an older earth pony with a scar running down his cheek. Cerulean was in motion again, barreling straight for two ponies on the left. She fired on the older stallion as he was reloading, but he escaped over the hill. With him briefly out of mind, she turned her shield into a battering ram and rushed Cerulean through the small gap between the last two riders. The impact sent a bolt of fiery pain through her skull, but it disorganized and distracted the two for long enough that Rarity was able to make quick work of them and ride on past.

You’re getting far too good at this.

Ignoring the little whisper in the back of her head, Rarity pushed Cerulean to go faster. Shield dropped, she looked back. No sign of the old stallion. Slowing her pace with a magical tug on the reins, she examined her surroundings. The mare at the top of the hill, still alive but bleeding out fast. The two ponies on the hillside, nothing more than quiet heaps. Sand lizards fleeing the scene, aimless without their masters. Shouldn’t she feel something?

No. No time to feel. Only to fight.

Scarface at last appeared at the top of the hill. He didn’t raise his revolver. Instead, he copied Rarity’s behavior, scanning the valley and letting his eyes linger on the dead. Eventually, their eyes met. Rarity peered at him, her trigger fingers twitching. No confidence appeared in her opponent’s gaze. They said nothing, did nothing. But Rarity let her intentions be known. She channeled the fire burning deep within, the one that was threatening to burn everything, even her. The one she’d let sear her pursuers to keep from searing herself. The fire shown to him with her eyes and bared, gritted teeth and slow, heavy breaths.

By the wide-eyed expression on his face, he felt every licking flicker of it. He turned his sand lizard around and fled without a word. Rarity waited, ears perked and eyes roaming. She paid no mind to the bodies.

When sure that he wasn’t coming back, she turned Cerulean north once more.





Night had fallen yet again. Rarity kept moving north. Her pace was slow, her body slumped. Silver Lining remained in her hand, resting idly on her leg as she stared into the darkness. A gentle breeze blew from the east. She ignored it, just as she ignored the steady footsteps of Cerulean or his lumbering breaths. Beyond that, the world was quiet.

Rarity hated every second of it. She kept telling herself to turn around, to find those hunters, to continue the fight. Were they even pursuing her anymore? After the damage she’d done, maybe not. In that case, there’d be no good to come from going back for them.

No good, save to make her forget. The feeling. The phantom touch. The lingering fingers of an encounter she couldn’t even remember. Even now, she squirmed from the thought of it. That mare, that stupid, lecherous mare!

No. Don’t think about it. Think about something else. Think about staying alive.

Except nopony was trying to kill her. And with nopony to fight, with no adrenaline pumping through her system…

Another way. Another distraction. There must be something!

“C-Cerulean?” She eyed the sand lizard’s bulky head. He seemed to be ignoring her. “I wish you could talk.”

A long, lingering, uncomfortable pause. No answer came. She leaned back to stare at the cloudless, starry sky. “I wish somepony would talk to me.” Her eyes drifted to the crescent moon. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

More quiet. More treading. More fingers touching sensitive spots. She shuddered and looked at the holy sigil on her wrist. “Is this of any value at all?” When no answer came, the fire within tried to build up. Rarity pursed her lips and turned her eyes away.

“I haven’t lost faith yet, Marble. But it’s just… so hard.”





You’re being a fool.

It didn’t happen.

Your parents would be ashamed.

It didn’t happen.

This isn’t helping anyone.

It didn’t happen.

How many times are you going to repeat that until you realize it’s a lie?

Shut up. I don’t want to think about it.

And what good is that doing you?

Rarity groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Why can’t I stop thinking about it?”

Cerulean grumbled. He tilted his head to eye her.

“What?” She glared back. “I’m suffering from a personal crisis. I’m allowed to go a little insane.”

The Dust Devil grumbled some more. Licked his lips.

It was then that Rarity realized she’d not fed him since she’d first delivered the feed bag. With a sigh, she pulled him to a stop and climbed down. Her legs ached from two days and nights of nonstop riding, and she shook them to get some feeling back below the thighs. Wobbling as she walked, she examined the left side of the saddle… no, it was on the right side. Rubbing her head, ignoring the steady thumping of her blood in her ears, she tried to remember which bag was which. After three tries, one of which involved checking the same bag for a second time, she found the feed. It took her half a dozen attempts to untie it from the saddle.

She didn’t have the energy to carry it to Cerulean’s mouth. Instead she flashed her horn, catching his eye, and lifted some feed in her hand. The sand lizard’s tongue lolled out, and soon he’d turned to feast on the ill-gotten goods. Rarity watched him work for a while… then realized that she’d had neither food nor water in the same amount of time.

Her eyes went to the sky. It was… morning? Afternoon? The world rocked under her boots, making it hard to gauge the sun’s position. She decided to call it noon. That would be good enough. With slow, uncertain movements, she shrugged off her backpack and pulled out some bread and a water bag.

Settled down on the hard earth, back against Cerulean’s scaled side, Rarity ate her modest lunch. She knew she should be famished, but the food tasted like ash and the water held little interest for her tongue. She stared out at the rocky landscape and wondered when the last time she slept had been. Of course, sleeping was out of the question. The hunters could come upon her. She’d be defenseless.

She might dream.

Her eyelids were drooping. Mumbling under her breath, she forced herself back to her hooves. “Gotta… Gotta do something. Gotta keep going.” She took an idle bite of her bread. Chewed forever. Swallowed. “Have to get home. Home to…” Her parents. Her little sister.

“What about me?”

Her head whipped around, hand on Silver Lining. Not a pony in sight. She scowled. Blinked.

When her eyelids opened, Coco Pommel was standing in front of her, hands behind her back and eyes on the ground. Rarity might have reacted were she not struggling with keeping her eyes open. “Coco?”

Coco’s hoof traced little circles in the dirt. “You’re coming for me too, aren’t you?”

Rarity set hands to hips and cocked an eyebrow. “But of course. I would think that obvious.”

“But will you?” Gentle blue eyes met hers. “You’ve changed, Rarity.”

A derisive sniff. A flippant wave of the hand. “I would think so. Let’s see you wander around the filthy desert with a bunch of ruffians trying to kill you without changing.”

Coco’s ears folded down. She looked away. “But are they good changes?”

“Good?” Rarity rocked a little, less because of the question and more because her hooves didn’t seem to want to stay underneath her. Shaking her head, she stomped a step closer and snarled. “Of course they aren’t good! I’ve had to kill ponies. I go weeks without a bath. And don’t even get me started on how everypony, and I mean everypony, keeps trying to get under my tail.” She huffed and took another bite of her bread. Then a swig of water. “What kind of a lady do these ponies think I am?”

Coco’s hands clasped together. She fidgeted in place, unable to meet Rarity’s gaze. “And what kind of lady are you?”

“Not that kind!” Rarity pointed at her, almost losing her bread in the process. “I am a decent, civilized mare. That hasn’t changed.”

“Hasn’t it?” Coco blinked, her innocent blue eyes neither accusing nor forgiving. “Do you honestly think so?”

Rarity gripped the bread, her fingers digging deep into the hard loaf. “And just what are you accusing me of, Darling?”

“You murdered that stallion.”

She grit her teeth. “That was self-defense.”

“You beat him.”

“It was him or me!”

Coco, skin and bones. Coco, tall and skeletal. Coco, with eyes like blue pools that dripped sapphires. “You could have stopped.”

“He touched me!” The bread crumbled in her fist. Rarity bared her teeth at Coco, shoulders shaking and breath ragged. “His hands were on me. His body was on me!”

The apparition cocked her head, a motion that made the bones in her neck stand out with disturbing clarity. “He was dying.”

“No! No, he was… he was…”

“You won.” Coco’s voice grew soft. Hollow. Rasping. “You’d beaten him. You knew it. All you had to do was walk away.”

Ruby Heart flashed in the sunlight. The barrel shook. Rarity centered the sights between Coco’s eyes. “This is no concern of yours. Get out of my head.”

The phantom countered with a sad smile. “How much lower will you go?”

“Shut up.”

“You could have stayed ahead of the hunters.”

“Shut up!”

“You could have avoided fighting them after the bridge.”

“I’m warning you…”

“But you doubled back. You let them find you.”

“Be quiet!”

The skeletal, towering Coco leered and loomed over her, skin taught against bony white flesh and teeth flashing in a too-large grin. “Do you like the blood, Rarity?”

Ruby Heart fired. Again. Again and again. The mighty bullets ripped gaping holes in the apparition, each impact making it stumble back. The shoulder. The chest. An eye. An arm.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!”

Ruby Heart’s hammer clicked, over and over and over again. Rarity shook, she sobbed, she growled, she heaved.

The Coco creature’s grin broadened, even as the blood seeped from its wounds. Like a balloon steadily losing air, it began to collapse in on itself. But the remaining eye, next to a massive, perfect hole, remained innocent and cheerful over that rictus grin.

“Well hello, Bulletproof Heart.”

Rarity shrieked, throwing the gun down and stumbling backwards. Her legs disappeared from under her and she collapsed in a sitting position. She pressed her hands to her face and wailed. The fight came back in full clarity, the struggle, the ferocity, the frustration. And his eyes. His pleading, desperate eyes. Good goddess, why couldn’t she stop seeing those eyes?

“I’m sorry! I know I should have let go, b-but I panicked! I didn’t mean—”

“Is that your excuse?” Coco’s voice had become a guttural growl. “Will you kill everypony who touches you now and call it ‘panicking?’”

“I-I was scared!”

“No, Rarity. You’re dead.”

She looked up to the creature, now little more than a white and blue mass of boney body parts. But still, that one-eyed leer was there. “The Bulletproof Heart is not—”

“No, Rarity.” The eye widened. A trembling arm with loose, flabby skin pointed aside. “You’re dead.”

“What?” Her gaze followed the direction it was pointing.

A Dust Devil was charging towards her, no less than three ponies riding its back. They were only a few hundred feet away.

“Shit!” She reached for Ruby Heart and Silver Lining, only to recall that she’d just emptied and tossed the former. “Shit!”

“Language.”

“Shut up!” She ran for Cerulean. If she could just mount him she might be able to—

Shots rang out, peppering the dirt around Rarity with lead. She yelped, jerked to a stop and dove backwards. When she looked up, the Dust Devil was bearing down on her! With a shout, she rolled forward just in time to escape getting trampled. She came out of the maneuver shaky, almost falling on her face, and had to throw a hand to the ground to steady herself.

Too little sleep, not enough food. Rarity, you fool!

She heard the tell-tale sound of a shotgun getting pumped and, without thinking, threw up a shield. The blast ricocheted off her barrier, leaving a nasty sting in her horn but little more. Silently thanking Shining Armor for his lessons, she stood to face her foes properly. Two of them had jumped off the Dust Devil while the last rode the beast in a wide circle, rifle in hand.

Shotgun was trying to eat up as much distance between himself and her as possible. Rarity took aim, but didn’t get the chance to act as the unicorn mare raised a short-barreled rifle and opened fire. Rarity dodged left and felt a burning sensation on her hip. Only a close shave, but it had her heart fighting to break free of her rib cage!

The mare didn’t get a second chance: Rarity opened fire and got the pony’s arm. The young unicorn dropped her rifle with a cry and fell back, too shocked by the pain to even try to continue. She turned for Mr. Shotgun—

The impact sent her careening backwards. Her ears rang from the metallic sound and the sky took over her vision. An unclear time later, she was on her back. She blinked, sucking in short breaths and feeling at her body, but aside from the scratch to her side…

Understanding struck, and she was back on her hooves in an instant.

“Celestia, Luna, and Discord! She really is bulletproof!”

Silver Lining shot up to the left. Bang. To the right. Bang. The stallions fell, their riderless Dust Devil bolting.

“No,” she hissed. “Just my heart.” Rarity smirked, tugging her hole-riddled shirt so she could get a proper look at her necklace. There was a black mark beside the gemstone.

Something caught her eye. The gem. It had been steadily turning purple, hadn’t it? But now most of the color had faded. Somehow, seeing that made her feel… guilty. Why? It was just—

A scream tore through the air. Rarity jerked sideways on instinct, but wasn’t fast enough to keep the heavy stock of the rifle from smashing into her shoulder. She reeled, barely able to keep her balance. Legs dancing beneath her, she spun to face her new opponent, only to find the young mare she’d already wounded. She kept her bleeding arm pressed tight against her side and used her magic to swing the rifle like a club. Why wasn’t she trying to shoot?

The young unicorn howled as she tried again and again to hit Rarity, who had to scramble backwards to avoid losing her teeth to the makeshift weapon. “I’m going to kill you! Let’s see how you like it, you monster!”

Rarity grimaced and raised Silver Lining, but her shot went wide when she had to dodge another swing. She tried again with the same results. The mare was trying to disarm her!

Her opponent screamed with every swing. “Why. In the. Name of. Luna. Won’t. You. Die?”

With a derisive sniff, Rarity ignited her horn. The rifle slowed down as the two battled for control of it, green and blue auras fluctuating around the weapon. Rarity was weak right now and knew she’d never win if the mare had any ability whatsoever. Then again, Rarity wasn’t trying. She didn’t have to.

Her magic was on the trigger.

The rifle fired, sending a bullet through the shoulder of the mare’s already injured arm. She screamed, falling backwards as her hand reached for the fresh wound. Rarity caught the rifle before it could fall and moved in, standing over the prone pony and pushing the barrel down so that it pressed hard between her opponent’s eyes.

And then she stopped. Despite an urgent desire to pull the trigger, Rarity hesitated. The young mare. Green. She was green. With a similarly colored mane. She wore a plain white shirt. Brown, ripped pants. Such… simple descriptors. And yet, now that Rarity thought back on it, what descriptions could she offer to all the ponies she’d killed since Hoofington?

Shouldn’t she be able to describe them? At least a little?

“Go ahead.”

Rarity blinked, her attention refocusing on the young mare’s face. Tears streaked her cheeks as she breathed in sharp gasps, her good hand still clutching her bloody shoulder.

When Rarity said nothing, the mare snarled and leaned up against the rifle barrel. “Do it. Kill me. Kill me like you did my friends! Like you did TomTom!”

TomTom? Rarity glanced towards the two dead stallions. A friend, perhaps?

“What are you waiting for?” Her shaking hand reached up to grab the barrel. Her pink eyes spat hatred upon Rarity’s face. “Isn’t this what you do? Isn’t this what you enjoy?”

“Enjoy?” The fire, momentarily dimmed, came storming back into Rarity’s heart. She pushed the rifle down with enough force that it shoved the young unicorn’s head in the dirt. “Enjoy it? If you ponies would just leave me alone, I wouldn’t have to keep killing you! Why? No matter how many I kill, you keep coming back and making me do it again. And again and again!”

The young mare snarled right back. “Don’t give me that shit! I saw what you did to my TomTom!”

“What I did? I don’t even know who—” She blinked. Blue mane. Back at the camp. “Wait. TomTom was… Wh-who was TomTom?”

“You don’t even know.” The mare’s horn flashed. “You don’t even care!”

Rarity jerked her face away from the beam. It passed so close she could feel the heat on her cheek. The rifle was knocked aside and her legs were tripped up by the mare’s sideways roll. The unicorn cried out in pain, but still managed to get on her hooves from the impromptu maneuver. Rarity stumbled, releasing the rifle so she could slap her hand to the dirt and not fall all the way down. When she looked up, the mare was just starting a horn-first charge.

Too slow, Darling. Rarity brought her shoulder forward and stepped sideways into the charge. The hard corner of her shoulder collided with the bleeding wound of the mare’s own. The pony shrieked and tumbled, whereas Rarity was merely unsteadied. She wobbled for a moment, her tired body struggling with the shift in balance, but finally managed to steady herself.

The young mare, sobbing, crawled across the dirt away from Rarity. For her part, Rarity just watched, a calm but unpleasant sadness washing over her at the sight. At last the pony reached the Ruby Heart, which she snatched up. She turned onto her back, aimed, and pulled the trigger. Her reward was only a quiet click.

“No!” She examined the weapon, perhaps hoping to find a way to reload, then shouted and threw the gun at Rarity. It landed ineffectually before her boots.

Rarity waited for a moment, but it seemed that, at last, the mare was done fighting. Seeing her lying spread-armed in the dirt, Rarity picked up Ruby Heart, shook the dirt off it, and returned it to its holster. “Who was TomTom?”

The mare stared at the sky, face covered in fresh tears. Through her sniffles, she muttered a broken “What do you care?”

Slowly, Rarity approached. Kneeling down next to the prone pony, she leaned over to meet the mare’s glassy gaze. She took in the streaks on her cheeks, the bloodshot eyes, the tangled mane, the trembling lips. Pain. So much pain. Pain that Rarity was responsible for. The loss in that face wormed its way into her heart like a knife, set and ready to rip open the stitches she’d so desperately tried to put there. Without those stitches, Rarity’s heart might…

It’s time I stopped running away.

Taking a long, slow breath, Rarity braced herself. “Please tell me.”

At first, the mare only stared up at her, like she didn’t know what she was looking at. Then the grimace came back. She raised her head slightly to meet Rarity’s gaze as best she could, her eyes filled with venom. “You murdered him. For lizard feed.”

One of the stitches ripped out, and Rarity could feel her heart bleeding. She didn’t flinch, didn’t react at all save to quietly ask, “And what was he to you?”

Another long, hate-filled glare. “He was my fiancée. There.” The mare let her head fall back to the dirt. “Happy?”

More stitches snapping open. This time Rarity did react, cringing and clutching a hand over her chest. She sat back and exhaled slowly. “No. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again.” She stood on shaky legs, holstered Silver Lining, and went to Cerulean.

“Hey. Hey! Where are you going? You can’t leave me like this! You’re supposed to kill me?”

Ignoring the ongoing shouts, Rarity examined the assorted saddlebags. She’d never taken the time to adequately examine her ill-gotten belongings, but if Cerulean’s previous rider had any survival skills at all… “Ah-ha.” She pulled out a small emergency field kit and, tucking it under her arm, trotted back to the mare.

The pony was sitting up now, feeling at her shoulder with quiet hisses. When she saw what Rarity had brought over, her expression loosened with clear incredulity. “You’re joking.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m not telling you—” She paused at Rarity’s blasé stare. “Orchard.”

“Orchard.” She opened the box and set it in the dirt between them, herself sitting at the mare’s wounded side. “It looks like the bullet went through your arm, so that should be fine. We need to get the one in your shoulder out before it causes problems.”

Orchard blinked a few times. “You… want to do field surgery on me?”

Rarity pulled a set of long, narrow tweezers from the kit. “Would you rather wait until you get back to Hoofington?”

The green of Orchard’s cheeks paled slightly. She licked her lips and glanced at her bloody shoulder. “I kinda didn’t plan on making it back.”

A long, low groan left Rarity’s throat. “What is it with you bounty hunters and death? It’s as though none of you value your own lives.”

“You’re one to talk,” Orchard snapped, only to go cross-eyed when Rarity thrust the tweezers in her face.

“I never asked to be a wanted mare, you know,” Rarity groused. “Now are you going to lay down and let me do this, or am I going to have to hold you down? Before making your decision, bear in mind I haven’t had any sleep in almost three days.”

“What? Why?” At Rarity’s glare, Orchard winced. “Oh, right. Posse on your tail.” Her eyes regained their fire an instant later. “Except that you didn’t have to come back and… and hunt us. Looks like you’ve got a death wish of your own.”

Rarity sighed and sat up straight, hands in her lap. “Do you want my help or not?”

Orchard leaned forward in turn, wincing as she did. “I want to know why you’re helping.”

Chewing her lip, Rarity rubbed the necklace under her shirt. She thought about everything she’d done in the last few days, the ponies she’d killed, the needless violence. And it had been needless, hadn’t it? All of that death, because she was too scared to face what had already happened. Drowning in the madness of battle, for all its horror, had simply been easier.

But now the numbness of battle was gone, and the cold reality of that night was back. She couldn’t even remember what she’d done. Her first time. The moment she’d been saving herself for for so long, stolen. And why? Because, for the first time in her life, she chose to drown her woes in alcohol.

Swallowing to moisten her dry throat, Rarity offered the best answer she could. “Because I need to preserve what little dignity I have left.” She raised the tweezers. “Now, please. Lay down.”

Orchard stared at her for some time, hardly moving. Blood continued to drip from her wounds, but it was only a trickle. Her eyes conveyed so many emotions, ranging from confusion to revulsion and, perhaps, even a little sympathy, although Rarity might have imagined it. At last, she lay on her back. “How do you know I won’t come after you once I’m healed?”

Rarity reached into the kit and pulled out a small white rag, probably meant for cleaning wounds. She used her magic to roll it up tight. “By that time my family should be safe, assuming I survive. You are free to try.” She lowered the rag to Orchard’s face. “Bite down.”

The young mare raised her head, but paused. “Hey. You’ve done this before, right?”

Exhaling slowly, eyes set on the wound, Rarity replied with a quiet “No.”

Orchard’s eyes went wide. Still, after considering it for a moment, she did as she was told and took the cloth roll in her teeth. Satisfied, Rarity bent over and, using both magic and her fingers, opened the hole her bullet had left in the green hide. The flesh beneath was pink and torn. Ugly. Her eyes studied the blood, and a subtle nausea turned her stomach.

Come now, Rarity. You’ve seen far worse than this. If you can see a bunch of ponies explode… Bad image! She shook her head slightly, took another careful breath, and whispered, “Please hold still. I’ll try to make this quick.”

The instant the tweezers made contact with the hole, Orchard squirmed and sucked down a sharp breath. It was only a slight motion though, so Rarity proceeded. She dug deeper and deeper, lips pursed tightly as the tender meat resisted her invasion. Fresh blood streamed from the wound and Orchard whined.

Rarity didn’t dare check on the mare. She had to focus. Had to search. Had to locate the bullet. She dug deeper, moving slowly, waiting for the—there! Her tweezers hit something solid, but which moved at the slightest touch.

Orchard started to shift. “Don’t move! I’ve almost got it.” When the mare failed to obey, Rarity growled and shifted positions, placing one knee on Orchard’s upper arm and the other on her chest. It didn’t stop the motions completely, but it was an improvement. Biting her lip hard, she worked the tweezers around the bullet. At last, with painstaking slowness, she pulled the tweezers out.

The bullet appeared, and with it a piece of cloth. That caught Rarity by surprise until she realized it was from Orchard’s clothes. Holding the bullet aloft in her magic, she compared the piece of cloth with the hole in the shirt. They fit perfectly, which killed her fears of potential infection. Climbing off the weeping pony, she showed the bullet to her and smiled. “There you are, no lead poisoning for you.”

With a trembling hand, Orchard removed the rag from her mouth. “I-I think that was the least of my concerns.”

“Well, think of it as a souvenir.” Rarity set the bullet in the open lid of the emergency kit, then took out a small pouch. A glance inside revealed a white powder, much to her relief. “This will protect from infection,” she explained to a wary Orchard. She rubbed it into the pony’s shoulder wound, then repeated the process for the holes in her arm. “Now we just need to bandage you up.”

Groaning, her patient gingerly sat up. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

“My father is a worrywart,” Rarity explained with a dry chuckle. “He refused to let his little girl leave home without knowing how to administer first aid.” A quick check of the bandages told her there was probably enough for both wounds, although it would be a close call.

Orchard kept silent for some time, her gaze set upon the western horizon while Rarity applied the bandages. Rarity said nothing, instead focusing her attention on her work. It kept her from thinking about… other things.

Just when she finished wrapping up the shoulder, Orchard spoke in a faint voice. “We’d never done this before, either. TomTom and I. We don’t know anything about bounty hunting.”

Rarity, cutting the bandages free so she could get to work on the arm, asked a direct, “So what made you decide to come after me?”

“Ease. Confidence.” She heaved a heavy sigh, bowing her head. “There were over thirty of us, but even with such a big split, we’d have made enough. We could have left Hoofington, started a new life somewhere. ‘Just one time’, he told me. ‘One time, and we’ll have enough money to go wherever we want.’”

She sniffed, obediently raising her arm so that Rarity could start wrapping it. “Thirty-two ponies against one mare. It looked so easy. We doubted we’d even have to draw our weapons. And then…”

Not pausing in her work, Rarity pressed. “And then?”

“And then we learned the truth. They said the rumors about you were all puff pieces, exaggerations, lies. We never thought a single mare could be so dangerous. Then you ripped through our trap back in the fields like it was paper. Then you started hitting us when we were supposed to be the ones tracking you. I…” She closed her eyes and trembled. “I got scared. We didn’t know when you’d hit next. What if I went to bed one night and d-didn’t wake up?”

That gave Rarity pause. She looked at the fresh tears on Orchard’s face and felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I would never do that.”

“And how were we supposed to know that?” Orchard gazed at her with wide, fearful eyes. “We didn’t know what you could do. Some of the others went home, said it was too dangerous. None of us had planned for a long chase. I wanted to quit too, but TomTom, he w-wouldn’t listen.”

Rarity swallowed, went back to work. “And then I came back.” She tried to ignore that empty feeling.

“Why did you k-kill him?”

“He had a knife to my back.”

“That makes no sense!” Orchard shook her head firmly. “We saw what you can do. He wouldn’t have tried to fight you alone!”

“Well he did,” Rarity whispered. “And lost.”

“You’re lying.” Another sniff. The mare turned her face away. “You killed him in cold blood, didn’t you?”

With the last of the bandages in place, Rarity began putting away her kit. She said nothing for a time, thinking instead on that night, the way she’d felt when he fell on her, the look in his eyes. The rage in her heart.

“There’s something wrong with me.” Taking the bullet in her magic, she closed the kit. The little piece of lead hovered before her face, and she studied it against the blue sky. “I’ve grown more and more frightened. Frightened for my body. For my dignity. If somepony just killed me, then it would all be over, but if somepony takes me, I have to live with that forever.”

Orchard’s words came out as a hiss. “TomTom would have never done something like that!”

“Maybe not.” She wrapped her fingers around the bullet, clenching it in a tight fist. “But somepony did, and ever since I have been boiling inside. I’m so angry. Angry and hurt and wishing I could put a bullet in the head of the pony responsible. For Luna’s sake, I am not a killer.” She turned sharply to Orchard, who reeled back from her scowl. Rarity shook her fist in the mare’s face. “But I want to hurt her so badly, and I swear on all that is holy and otherwise that I won’t let anypony ever touch me like that again!”

Orchard almost fell back, she’d leaned so far away. She trembled beneath Rarity’s looming presence. “B-but… But TomTom wouldn’t do that.”

Closing her eyes, Rarity took slow, heavy breaths. Her pulse calmed, her fist lost its painful tension. The fire in her heart dimmed, but wouldn’t go away. With one last, slow exhale, she nodded. “I believe you. But the nature of our fight triggered something in me, and I reacted. I didn’t even realize what I’d done until it was too late.”

Taking Orchard’s hand in her own, Rarity set the bullet into her palm. “I know this probably won’t mean much to you, but for what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She stood up and arched her back, listening to the quiet pops in her spine. Taking the medical kit in her magic, she met Orchard’s uncertain eyes. “I know you might come after me later. Please don’t. I don’t want to kill any more ponies than I have to, but I’m not going to just lie down and take it anymore.”

Cerulean hadn’t moved from where she’d left him. It appeared he’d fallen asleep. It reminded her of how much she needed the same. But not yet. Not quite.

“I have to save my family. I have no intention of dying before that happens.”

She left the young mare behind, not interested in hearing a response.





“Do you think anymore will come?” Rarity glanced at Cerulean, who lay next to the pond lapping up water. When he paid her no mind, she looked to the starry night sky. The moon shone brightly as it started its journey for the evening.

She was too weary to think. Her eyes began to drift closed.

“I hope not,” she whispered. “But I can’t stay awake forever.”

Darkness embraced her. Curling up in her sleeping bag, she tried to keep her mind blank. Sleep would come. Soon. She’d be safe, and if not…

Fingers teased her stomach, slid down her thigh.

Rarity jerked, eyes popping open and hand reaching for Silver Lining. She was met by only a snoring Cerulean and twinkling stars.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, clutching the sleeping bag to herself.

“I’m okay.

“I’m okay.

“I’m okay…”
> Episode 15: Mooisville
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


32nd of Warm Season, 1005 BA


They didn’t come again. Part of Rarity was thrilled that she didn’t have to check over her shoulder every five minutes anymore. The other part was frustrated by the lack of distractions. Her mind kept going back to that night in Hoofington she couldn’t remember. She didn’t think she’d ever stop feeling dirty.

She checked over her shoulder anyway.

In time, the environment around her changed. Gone were the endless rocky valleys of dirt and grime and heat. Now she found herself weaving through shallow hills of brilliant emerald grass that swayed in the winds. The farther north she travelled, the cooler the air became, and even some clouds began to form overhead, drifting about in lazy peace. Trees started to grow, usually isolated but sometimes in large thickets. In time she knew she’d start to come across forests.

She came upon a small brook. Using her map purchased in Hoofington and the lessons learned from Yearling – was that crazy mare still chasing after Little Lightning? – she surmised that it wasn’t the Ohioats River but a smaller tributary. If she just followed it, she’d be at Mooisville in just a few short days.

The thought was sobering. Home. A place she’d not been to in almost seven years. How much would it have changed? She might not even recognize it anymore. She wondered if Mootilda Heavyhoof was still governor. Her father had never liked that cow. She smiled, remembering how upset he’d gotten at the Heavyhoof’s appointment. Other ponies thought he just didn’t like cows. Rarity and her mother knew better, of course.

She missed her father. Only now, with the first signs of home laid before her, did she realize just how true that was. She felt a sudden desire to hurry, to get to Mooisville as fast as Cerulean could carry her. Just to see their smiling faces again, to know she was safe and loved and…

Her mood plummeted like an anvil off a cliff’s edge. Mooisville wasn’t ‘safe’. Seeing her parents didn’t mean an end to her troubles. It would be a comfort, but nothing more. If she let herself lapse into complacency, she would die, and her family with her. The Apples would ensure it. She still had to make good time, but more for their sake than her own.

As she bobbed on his back, Rarity wondered about Cerulean. What was she to do with him? The obvious answer would be to keep him as her own. And yet…

Rarity already had a great many things to worry about. She didn’t want to add another Piecazzo to the list. That was unreasonable, surely, and her fears undoubtedly should be overruled by logic. Cerulean cut her travel time down to a third of what she’d anticipated, and the added mobility would be nothing but a boon in avoiding bounty hunters and Apple Gang attacks. Keeping Cerulean was the smart thing to do, if she had any sense.

As if sensing her thoughts, Cerulean cast a wary glance back at her. For an instant, she imagined him with a piece of flesh hanging off his face and an eye missing. The picture sent a shiver down her spine, then another. Cerulean snorted and looked forward once more, blissfully unaware of her thoughts.

“Would you hate me, Cerulean?” she whispered, turning her eyes to the narrow brook. She observed its steady, slow current along the rocks and reeds. “If you died one day, would you hold it against me?”

In truth, she had no idea what Cerulean thought of her. Piecazzo had always been affectionate whenever around her. Cerulean acted as if she wasn’t even there. Even now, as she rode him along the quiet shore, he paid her little mind. As far as Rarity could tell, he was indifferent to everything around him. He’d made no fuss when she’d taken the reins from his last owner – she winced at the thought of the body lying unnoticed and unburied in the fields even now. Another unreasonable image.

Maybe there were different options available to her. Cerulean was hardly an interesting travel companion, even by sand lizard standards. He was obedient, but that was the limit of his personality that she could determine. Travelling alone was even less appealing, but if she was going to have a mount she preferred one that would enjoy her company. Clearly, Cerulean didn’t. She wasn’t sure if he enjoyed company at all.

Then again, there was one advantage to having a disinterested mount. If she wasn’t all that attached to him and he did get killed…

Rarity shook her head hard. “What is wrong with you, Rarity? That’s a terrible excuse and you should be ashamed of yourself!”

Cerulean’s neck frills rose, as if he were perking an ear at her outburst.

“Don’t you rustle your scales at me, mister,” she growled. “It was a moment of weakness, no more. As if I’d utilize such an odious advantage.”

If Cerulean thought anything of her remark, he offered no indication of it.

Rarity heaved a long sigh and shook her head. “I’m losing it, aren’t I?” Her gaze drifted to the east, where the sun was just hanging over the hills. The sky would start turning red in the next hour. “I must try to be positive. I wonder if Coco’s gained any success since I sent her to Mooisville?”

She envisioned her former assistant tending to a shop bustling with happy customers. Granted, the shop looked like Rarity’s, but it was still a pleasant idea. “I do hope she’s taking care of herself. The young mare has a habit of overextending herself. We’ll have to keep an eye on that, won’t we?” She glanced at Cerulean, paying no mind to how he ignored her.

“And of course, Mother and Papa will still be in their tacky clothes. I wonder if she ever opened that bakery she was so interested in?”

Something was holding her throat. She reached up to rub at her necklace. It did little against the tingling, probing sensation between her…

“And Papa! I bet the first thing he’ll want to do is update me on the latest hoofball news.” Her smile grew. She paid no attention to the twitching on the corner of it. “I never did understand what he saw in that sport, but it will be nice to hear. A touch nostalgic, don’t you think?”

Hoofball. Such a silly sport. But then again, it beat shootouts among the hills. She could live with it.

“And Sweetie Belle! Dear little Sweetie. I can’t imagine how much she’s grown. I hope she’s become a proper lady.” She chuckled, a strained noise barely recognizable as her own. “Not likely, given who is raising her. But then, I turned out alright, did I not?”

Another glance at Cerulean. Ignored once more. Her ears flattened against her skull. The tightness in her throat intensified. “I’m alright. It’s… Everything’s okay.”

Yet the longer she sat there, reins limp in her hands, the heavier and heavier her shoulders felt. She slumped in the saddle, staring at the rhythmically shifting frills on the back of her steed’s neck. It was almost hypnotic, but not enough so.

“I don’t know who I expect to fool,” she muttered. “I’m as far from ‘alright’ as a mare can possibly be. I just proved I can go murder ponies for the sake of distraction. And the thing I’m trying to distract myself from…” She shuddered. “I… I was drunk, wasn’t I? D-didn’t know what I was doing. That means it doesn’t matter. Right?”

She stared at Cerulean’s head. He offered no response. Scowling, she turned her glare to the bubbling brook. “It does! I was used. Abused! What happened doesn’t make me a… a whorse. It was date r—” Her tongue spontaneously clamped against the ridge of her mouth. Stiff, lips pursed, she took a moment to take some slow, careful breaths.

“I’m innocent.”

The claim didn’t sound half as confident as she’d intended.

“I’m innocent.”

Not much better. Her lips trembled. She rubbed her necklace. “Why did I let it happen, Cerulean?” No answer, of course. “What will my family think of me when they find out? Can I keep it a secret, perhaps?”

She tried to envision herself keeping them out of the loop. Even as the Bad Apples were chasing them, even as she fought to protect them, even as the barest touch of another pony made her want to clamp her thighs tightly together.

Another long, slow sigh. She was doing that a lot lately. “It’s no use. They’ll figure it out eventually, or at least know something’s wrong. And then they’ll interrogate me. By Luna’s Stars, that’s going to be a disturbing conversation. How does a mare tell her parents that her first time was stolen by some nameless rogue?”

At the thought of that pony, her hand went to rub Silver Lining’s handle. Oh, she’d let her go, and perhaps that was the best decision for the time. Yet if she ever saw that orange-coated mare again, she wouldn’t hesitate. “I’m going to challenge her to a duel, and then her fate will be up to Celestia’s mercy.”

She paused to consider her own words. Should she feel guilty for thinking such foul, vicious thoughts? No matter how she looked at it, her feelings didn’t change. That disturbed her just a little. When did she get to the point where she could feel legitimate hatred and not also feel guilt for it?

It felt like she was becoming more ‘Bulletproof Heart’ every day.





Mooisville finally appeared, a city centered upon a tall hill next to the Ohioats River. Even from a distance, the architecture was distinctively chaotic. Wooden structures made up the majority, ranging in styles from log cabins to thatch-roofed cottages to multi-story houses of Manehattan’s boxy design. There were metal structures rising over those, seven or eight story buildings (those were new!). Ringing the city at its outer edges were a hodgepodge of small homes designed in the traditional manner of their inhabitants: barns for cattle, stone and thatch huts for zebras, curiously tall and narrow red brick minotaur abodes, even a few of the tree-like roosts for griffons.

Rising above all of this were the glittering crystal towers. They sparkled in the bright sunlight, always dominating the scene with their beauty and unique, striking shapes. Once, long ago, Rarity had dreamed of living in one of those. Staring at them from atop a hill, she couldn’t help but think her old desires foolish. Not in that she couldn’t have achieved the goal, oh no, but in that living one of the stair-filled things would undoubtedly get very old very fast.

Ah, practicality. That was one thing she liked about her new outlook on life. If only she could take the good parts and be rid of the bad.

A cool northern wind blew against her face, refreshing and pleasant. The Warm Season, despite its name, meant cold days for the Crystal Hills. Farms of the floodplains surrounded her in every direction, dutifully tended by a range of species. This was what she’d grown up knowing, many races working together for the common good. She watched with a sense of satisfaction as a burly earth pony mare guided other ponies, cattle and at least two minotaur in harvesting what appeared to be cotton from a nearby farm.

As she rode for the city, she recalled her first experiences leaving home. Towns completely comprised of just ponies confounded her in the beginning. She’d actually questioned a few locals, much to her current chagrin. It was simply a matter of numbers: Equestria was a land of ponies by virtue of there being so many of them. Hoofington was kind to non-pony races, but Mooisville was the hub of the minorities. She’d never known why. Never thought to question it.

Nor did she bother to question it now. She simply basked in the familiarity.

Forty-five minutes later, she was among the outer homes. A zebra neighborhood, mostly comprised of thatch roof cottages. The locals paid her little mind. A young colt waved at her and said something to his fussy mother about the ‘pretty lady’, to which Rarity could only smile with self-satisfaction. If she could still earn praise for her looks despite having just traveled hundreds of miles with only a nearby brook for bathing, she must be doing something right.

Unfortunately, ‘something right’ also meant drawing the eyes of a few of the older colts. That, at least, she wasn’t inclined to encourage. She flicked Cerulean’s reins and continued at a light canter, eager to be back in familiar territory.

It didn’t take her long. Rarity had grown up on the east side of the city, and it was a simple matter of following the first familiar main thoroughfare she came to. Outer Spoke Lane ran a circle around the entire city, so it made for an obvious navigational landmark. The road was full of wagons, sand lizards, and citizens walking along the gravel passage. Over the course of two hours Rarity passed a range of residential districts, including one she didn’t recognize that apparently belonged to thestrals: tall homes of stone that spread out near the top in a manner not unlike the wooden griffon roosts.

Near noon, she finally came upon Fine Grain Lane and took it deeper into the city. Within short order, the homes and structures once confined to memory came back. There were differences, of course – a new house there, a playground that hadn’t existed before on that street corner – but generally speaking it was as she remembered. It was a ratty, dirty, littered part of town, but even so bubbling joy made itself known in Rarity’s heart, and she couldn’t resist urging Cerulean to move a little faster.

That lasted until about when she reached Clydestone Road. It was only another couple blocks to home, and she only now recalled exactly why she was here. The familiar talon of fear gripped her heart and she promptly pulled into a nearby backroad, pausing between some decorative oak trees to think. If the Bad Apple Gang had her family hostage, they wouldn’t be obvious about it. Her family probably weren’t even aware. But they would be watching the house. She needed a better strategy than riding up to the old place in open daylight.

It took her a little time to make up her mind. Upon doing so, she promptly guided Cerulean away from home. There used to be a stable on the corner of Junebug and Royal, and she was glad to see that it was still there. In fact, it appeared to have expanded, sporting some new stalls and a second floor. What the second floor might be for, she couldn’t hazard a guess. She tied Cerulean to a post as close to the front door as she could and entered.

The stablehand manning the lobby was a tall, slender red earth pony mare. Rarity recognized her instantly; they had attended the same school, although Misty had been a year her senior.

When the silver-maned mare looked up from adjusting a bridle her brow shot up almost to the ceiling. “Rarity? Is that you?”

“Misty Mane, as I live and breathe.” Rarity leaned against the counter to get a good look at the pony. “You got tall.”

“By the Sisters, it is you!” Misty hurriedly set her work aside and stood up, an awed smile on her lips. “And am I dreaming, or are you actually wearing jeans and carrying a gun? Feel free to pinch me.”

How Rarity didn’t flinch at the mention of Silver Lining, she might never know. Instead, she smirked and pulled back her vest to reveal Ruby Heart. “Two guns, actually. But look at you! Working with lizards? I seem to remember you calling them ‘icky’ and ‘ugly’.”

Misty’s eyes were set upon Ruby Heart, jaw loose. “That’s got to be the prettiest gun I’ve ever seen.”

“You should feel the way it kicks.” Rarity hurried to hide the gun once more, hoping the butterflies in her stomach weren’t obvious. “But you and the lizards?”

“Hmm? Oh, right!” Misty awkwardly attempted to laugh off her distraction. “Yeah, I didn’t like the big, clodding brutes all that much. Then I got a cutie mark in riding the things.”

Now it was Rarity’s jaw that dropped. “You? What happened to even get you riding in the first place? Did your father glue you to a saddle?”

This time Misty’s laugh was genuine. “Not quite, but he might as well have!” She leaned over the counter once more. “But where in Equestria have you been? Last I heard you were caught in some caravan raid. I thought…” She sobered, standing straight once more. “I thought you were dead.”

The words were like a needle pricking her heart. With a grimace, Rarity shook her head. “Not yet, but only because I’m refusing to let death have me just yet.” She stood straight as well, leveling Misty with her most serious expression. “I’m sorry, Misty, but I didn’t come here to catch up with old friends. I’ve got some serious business to attend to with my family, and I cannot let it take long. How much would it be to keep my lizard here for a few hours?”

“Oh?” Misty blinked. “Oh! Wait, you own a lizard?”

“And I may be about to own a few more, assuming father never got any.” Rarity pulled off her backpack and started digging for her book of receipts. “Do you know if my family owns any?”

“Uh… no. They don’t.”

She cursed under her breath, but decided not to let it bother her. She’d worry about saving her destroyed finances later. “Okay, I’m going to need a lizard saddled and ready to go for each of them, plus one. Mother, Papa, Sweetie, and a friend of mine.” She pulled her receipt book out. “You can use one of these to check with the bank—”

“Woah, hold on!” Misty waved her hands wildly. “You wanna… rent or buy?”

“Buy.”

The mare’s eyes boggled. “You want to buy four sand lizards? You can afford that?”

“Most assuredly.” Rarity slapped her receipt book on the counter. “I’ve been busy these last seven years. I need those animals ready by the time I get back. We’ll be leaving in a hurry.”

“But… I… How did you…?”

With a groan, Rarity clapped her hands in front of Misty’s face. “Misty, please! This is an emergency! Now can you or can’t you get me the lizards I need?”





Some things changed as a city aged and evolved. Rarity was glad to see the back roads and alleys were not among them, at least not for her part of town. Sneaking to her old home proved a simple matter. She tried to keep a close lookout for anypony that might be watching for her, but in truth she had no means of making such a determination. This neighborhood was mostly low class earth pony residents, and she couldn’t simply look at a pony and know they were part of the Bad Apple Gang. Her only real hope was to go unnoticed by luck.

Of course, there was also the risk of being recognized by ponies in the neighborhood. None of them had cast a second glance at her so far, but she imagined it was only a matter of time. The last thing she needed now was to get stuck dealing with a hoodlum, but talking to a pony who wanted to catch up might be a lot worse. This in mind, Rarity did everything she could to avoid running into ponies, whether that meant hiding behind corners, slipping into an alleyway for a slightly longer path, or simply tucking her hat low over her eyes.

She hated every second of it. Mooisville was home. She should feel comforted by the easily recognized houses, faces, and shops. If a pony saw her now, they might think her a criminal trying to hide from the local deputies… not that there weren’t plenty to find as it was. Is this the image she wanted her old friends and acquaintances to know her by today? Such was the price for survival, she supposed.

She came to an abrupt pause, taking in her surroundings. This was the alley between Post Script’s and Old Mare Scrutiny’s homes. Which meant that when she rounded the next corner…

Her heart leapt into her throat. The next street descended a hill, wooden homes in two-acre spaces lining either side. And there, not forty feet away, was the backside of a familiar cabin of thick logs. Her eyes drifted over the scene, taking in every familiar element: the lime green curtains with the flower motif her mother had refused to take down; the old slide her father had made by hand and horn, now looking worn and disused; the brown picket fence with its recent repairs; the chimney of grey stone that even now sent a plume of smoke into the bright sky. Not all of it was exactly as she’d remembered.

It mattered not. Her throat tightened and her stomach clenched. This was it. All she had to do was take a few more steps, open that back door, and she’d be home. Her eyes centered on the small door, too far away to see details yet recalling every little crack and knot. Her family…

Her eyes darted to her person. Jeans. Button-up shirt. Vest and coat. Silver Lining. Dirty, clothes ripped up, and she probably reeked. She twiddled her fingers as an image of her mother’s concerned face came to mind. And what of her father? Maybe he’d be mad at her for putting them all in danger.

But they were in danger, and she was doing none of them any favors by delaying the inevitable. With arms stiff at her sides and head held high, Rarity crossed the street and opened the back gate. She didn’t even have to pause to consider the latch and how it tended to get hung up if not pushed against the wood first. Valiantly ignoring the moths flying laps around her insides, she marched right up to the back door and—

Her hand was on the knob, but she couldn’t will it to turn. It’s been over six years. This… This isn’t your home anymore, Rarity. A slow inhale. An equally slow exhale. She let go of the doorknob, pulled her hat off her head, and knocked lightly on the old wood. Seconds passed. Fidgeting, eyes shifting to her surroundings, she tried again with more force. “Come on… Come on…” Just as she was considering entering, the door opened.

Thought processes came to a screeching halt. Rarity’s heart might even have stopped. The plump, short mare before her met the gape with a peering gaze. She wore a checkered shirt of off-white greens and tight grey pants, both of which clashed catastrophically with her pink coat. The bun that made up her mane was a mess of frayed hairs and missed locks, insulted by the hoop earrings and gold necklace. She was, all in all, one of the least fashionable mares Rarity had ever seen.

And she was also the most beautiful sight imaginable. “M-Mother?”

Cookie Crumbles blinked, stepped out of the doorway. She leaned closer, such that their muzzles were almost touching. At last, her eyes widened. “Rarity?”

Whatever self-control Rarity had been maintaining floundered in the presence of a face she’d only seen in her dreams for the last seven years. The tears rushed down her cheeks and her throat defied the attempt to speak she hadn’t made. She raised her arms, but a sudden fear clenched her and she pulled them to her chest, fiddling with the rim of her hat. Trembling shoulders hunched, she looked at her hooves and fought against her throat. “I… I’m…”

She was snatched up in a hug so tight it stole what little breath she had. Her mother’s hand pressed against the back of her head, setting it gently but firmly on her shoulder. The tight hold of the embrace ripped away at the last of Rarity’s defenses, and she promptly wrapped her arms around her mother and sobbed.

“Hondo! Hondo, come quick!”

“Oh, what is it now, woman? I’ve got a pool game to win over at—”

“It’s Rarity!”

“Rarity? What are…? Rarity!”

Another set of arms, bigger and stronger, engulfed her. The scratchy feel of a mustache somehow managed to squeeze a giggle through her crying. That moustache, that stupid, ugly, wonderful moustache! She raised her head, and though everything was a blur she knew the white and brown blob attached to her side. “Papa!”

He kissed her forehead, barely suppressing sniffles of his own. “M-my little princess. I was starting to think we’d never see you again.”

She had no idea how long they held one another. Rarity couldn’t stop crying. All her fears and concerns drained out through her eyes, streaking her cheeks and her parents’ shoulders. It was as if she were ten again and all the wrongs of her life could be washed away by the warmth and love of these two ponies. Speech proved impossible, yet she so desperately needed to apologize for how little she’d appreciated them before. Life was good when the ponies she loved were within arm’s reach.

At some point she’d been guided into the living room. When she came out of the breakdown, she discovered herself on that tacky green and purple couch her mother had bought when she was born, the very same one that the foal Sweetie had promptly stained with a lunch she hadn’t approved of. Her mother, still holding her hands, would be sitting on the stain right now. Her father sat on her other side, arm around her shoulder as he smiled down at her.

Rubbing her eyes, she tried to think of something to say to these two, something that might make up for almost seven years of being away. All she managed was a feeble, “I’m sorry it t-took so long.”

Her father hushed her, running his fingers through her hair in that way she’d always liked as a filly. “Don’t worry about that. We’re just glad you’re finally home.”

“That’s right.” Her mother grinned and pressed her forehead to Rarity’s. “We were so worried about our little girl. But now you’re back, and everything’s okay again.”

Okay? Maybe not, but… indulging for a little bit longer wouldn’t hurt. Surely. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see your faces.”

Giggling, her mother leaned back to get a better look at her, eyes roaming up and down Rarity’s body. “I didn’t recognize you at first. This tomcoltish look is so strange compared to the frilly dresses we’re used to.” Her eyes drifted to Silver Lining, still in its holster at Rarity’s hip. Her pupils dilated just a little, her lips parting in a quiet breath.

Hunching forward a little, Rarity moved her hand as if to hide the weapon, only to end up rubbing the little nub on the handle instead. “I know it might take some getting used to.”

Her father shook her shoulders with a jovial smile. “You kidding? I love the new look! Makes the whole ‘gun fighter’ thing seem real. I’m sure you could bluff your way past any of them bandits if you wanted to looking like this.”

Her ears twitched. Her stomach seemed to sink into the couch as she slowly turned her head to stare at him. “Bluff?”

“Well, yeah.” He smirked, clearly unaware of her discomfort. “You don’t actually expect us to think you fired a gun at somepony, right?”

Silence. Slowly, his smile faded. Rarity only stared at him, trying to control the trembling.

“Honey?” Her mother rubbed her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Ignoring her in favor of keeping her eyes set on her father’s, Rarity licked her lips and at last managed to speak. “Why do you think they’re after me, Papa?”

“Well…” His eyes darted about the room, then over her shoulder at her mother. He at last met her gaze, but all confidence was gone from his tone. “Because of a misunderstanding. Surely?”

A misunderstanding. Was that what the Apples had told them? She rubbed her lips and stared forward once more, eyes set on the old brass clock on the wall. It wasn’t even ticking, yet they still had it. It served as a reminder that time was so very limited. She stood up and stepped into the center of the room, then turned to them, hoping her face reflected her seriousness properly. “Did you meet Coco? Tell me she arrived.”

“Coco?” Her mother smiled, but it was wan. “Such a precious young filly. She stays in the guest room. Got a nice job as a seamstress down on Kazy Street.”

So she arrived after all. Rarity allowed herself a moment of relief, but only a moment. She had to accept the further repercussions of this news. “Alright, we’ll have to take her with us. We need to get ready to go. Where’s Sweetie Belle?”

“Go?” Her father tilted his head. “Go where?”

“Anywhere that is not here.” Sweeping her hat up from where it sat on the armrest, she glanced around the room. She knew this place oh-so well. Hopefully she could get one last tour before it was gone from her life forever. Slapping the hat to her head, she said, “We can’t presume the Apple Gang doesn’t know I’m here. They’ll be coming.”

“Oh, no, Honey…” Her mother stood with a warm, comforting smile. She set her hands to Rarity’s shoulders. “You don’t have to worry about that. We made a deal with the Bad Apples. There’s no bounty anymore.”

“That’s right!” Her father’s self-assured grin came back in full force beneath that little moustache. “Your mother and I took care of everything. You’d be surprised how reasonable they are.”

She stared at them, unable to believe that they were serious. Yet it was clear by their laid-back certainty that they believed every word. “I think you’d be surprised at how little they can be trusted.”

“Now, Rarity,” her mother pressed in a soothing voice, “I know you’ve had a long and troubling journey, what with all the dirt and few bath opportunities and the unpleasant company—”

“Unpleasant?” Rarity stepped back, knocking her mother’s hands away. The fire she was becoming so accustomed to rose up. She held it in check even as she let it add heat to her words. “If you think those fiends have any intention of honoring their word, then tell me why I had to fight off dozens of bounty hunters outside of Hoofington. And let’s not forget the bandits near the Lonely Mountain, or the traders who tried to molest me, or that one fucking mare who actually managed to—”

Her throat constricted as the sickening feeling between her legs returned. She couldn’t give voice to that, not to them. Not yet. She wrapped her arms around her waist and just stood there, taking slow, heavy breaths. Her parents stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. Her father had gone pale, and her mother kept opening and closing her mouth.

“I…” Her mother swallowed. “You mean the bounty is still…?”

With one last exhale, Rarity’s nerves were under control. Mostly. Her stomach was still tied in knots, but at least the urge to vomit had passed. She looked from her mother to her father and back again. “Where is Sweetie Belle?”

“She’s at school. Coco just went to pick her up.” Her father stood quickly, expression hard. “Now, Princess, I know this is hard to accept, but we did make a deal. Whatever happened, I’m sure it’s all—”

She raised her hand. Coupled with her frown, it effectively silenced him. “Papa, I appreciate what you tried to do for me, but you’ve been had. The entire thing was a ruse to get me here. I came only so I can get you out, because I’m sure that if I didn’t then they would have done something terrible to all of you as an act of petty retaliation.”

His eyes narrowed and he looked as if he were going to argue, but she turned from him. “Mother, I need you two to pack. Only light items, things that can fit on a few Dust Devils. I’ve booked enough for all of us and Coco. Focus on food and drink, because we’ll probably need it.”

Her father took a step forward. “Now hold on—”

“In the meantime, I’m going to go get Sweetie and Coco. I expect you two to be ready by the time I get back. With any luck—”

“Bulletproof Heart!”

She paused, hand on the doorknob. With a low groan, she rested her forehead against the wood of the back door. “Oh, come on…”

The voice had come from outside, and it returned with no less authority. “We know you’re in there. You come out nice and quiet-like, and your family won’t have to suffer. You got two minutes.”

“What the hay is this?” Her father stomped to the window next to her and peered through the curtains. “That’s Full Steam, the guy who made the deal with us. What in Equestria is he doing here?”

Rarity touched Silver Lining with one hand and Ruby Heart with the other. “How many are out back?”

“I don’t know what that has to do with—”

“How many?”

He shot her a scowl, then took another look outside. “Seven, counting Full Steam.”

“They’ll be blocking the front as well.” She heaved a sigh. “Better get this over with. Get in the kitchen and keep quiet.”

Her father’s hand caught the doorknob before hers. “This is my home, Rarity, and you don’t give the orders around here. I’m sure if we just talk about it, everything will be fine.” Before she could launch any protest, he’d opened the door and stepped outside. “Full Steam! What’s this all about?”

Papa, you idiot! She spun to her mother, who was now looking out the window as her father had been. “Get ready to pull him back in at a moment’s notice.” Without waiting for any sign of approval, she stormed her way outside.

Her father stood with arms crossed, glaring over his moustache at the posse arrayed before him. Rarity stepped up beside him, making sure to account for everypony present. Full Steam was a big, bulky earth pony sporting a pistol that probably matched Ruby Heart in caliber. Most of his companions were also earth ponies, save for a lone pegasus in the back. A quick check out the corners of her eyes revealed no apparent ponies lurking in the street.

“Ah, there she is.” Full Steam smirked. “Bulletproof Heart! I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you’d have the guts to show your face in Mooisville. Even doubted the report saying you’d arrived.”

Her father responded over her attempt to speak. “What’s your business here, Steam? We already gave you what you asked.”

Steam snorted. His smile didn’t fade, but now there was a clear malice to his gaze. “Stay out of this, gramps. This is between the Apple Gang and your darling daughter.”

“This is my property, young colt,” he snapped back, taking a daring step forward. Well, he probably thought it was daring. To Rarity, it was more suicidal than anything. But his bravado did serve a purpose; with him mostly standing between them now, Rarity was able to light her horn just a tiny bit. None of the ponies reacted, apparently too focused on her father. She used just the tiniest fraction of magic before dimming her horn.

Then she stepped around her father, interrupting whatever he’d been saying. She stood tall, snapped the safety strap off Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, and met Full Steam’s gaze. “I’ve come a long way and been through a lot of manure, Mr. Steam, and I am in no mood to deal with you right now. But if you test me, I swear to Mother Night I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes. Leave. Now.”

Steam blinked at her. Slowly, his smile morphed into something predatory, perhaps even manic. “You wanna duel me, little filly? I’ll have you know I’m the fastest gunfighter in Mooisville.”

She offered a derogatory sniff. “Spare me the bluster. Last warning. Leave.”

The smirk remained in place. Steam’s companions looked no less confident. It seemed news of her little rampage leaving Hoofington hadn’t reached them just yet. A pity, she’d been hoping to scare at least some of them off. Now it looked as though she really would be facing down seven ponies at once, plus however many they had waiting in front of the house. She raised her left arm, readying to grab Ruby Heart. Time to see if her little plan would work.

To her chagrin, her father spoke up. His calm and annoyed tone made it clear he didn’t believe they were within seconds of a gunfight. “This is ridiculous! I’m sure if we just talk about this we could—” His hand touched Rarity’s shoulder. She slapped it, hard. Steam must have thought he saw opportunity in her motion, for his hand snapped down to his pistol.

It didn’t come up like it was supposed to. It was rather difficult to draw a gun when your opponent had subtly re-applied the safety strap. Shock crossed his features as he looked down. By the time his eyes came back up, Silver Lining was aimed his way. Rarity neither smiled nor spoke, only met his alarmed gaze and dared him to try something.

Steam’s eyes darted to his companions. It reminded her of a beast looking for an escape. He didn’t take his hand from his gun, but neither had he undone the button holding the safety strap in place. After a few seconds of clear indecision, he tried to put some confidence back into his expression. “So, you plan to kill all of us?” The stiffness in his shoulders betrayed his cocky smile.

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps not, but I’ll most certainly kill you.”

The confidence was snuffed out like a match, just like it had been for Roma. A small bead of sweat ran down the side of Steam’s face as he visibly swallowed. Rarity had him where she needed him. Just a little more pressure and he’d back down. The only drawback was his friends, who might not be so inclined to retreat when her gun wasn’t aimed their way. She did her best to keep her gaze focused strictly on him, even as she tried to watch the others in her peripheral vision. If they so much as twitched for their guns…

The motion came, and it was far more than a mere ‘twitch’. Rarity’s free hand snatched Ruby Heart out in a blur. The pony on the far left had just brought his rifle to bear when his stomach bloomed red. The rifle fired, and chaos erupted. Yet, to Rarity, it was all steady awareness. She’d never felt quite so calm in a gunfight before. She had only one thought on her mind: she would protect her family.

As the others scrambled for their weapons, Rarity took her next shot. Full Steam was already jumping aside by that time, but he still lost a chunk of his ear to a bullet from Silver Lining. She got one more shot from each gun, both landing solid hits on different ponies, and then it was time to retreat. Her heart leaped into her throat when she heard their weapons go off, but her shield came up just in time. The bullets pelting it an instant later were like tiny hammers trying to dislodge her brain from her skull. Once again, she silently thanked Shining Armor for teaching her proper energy dispersal. Her old shield would have shattered by now.

This one wouldn’t last very long, though. She spun around, startled to find her father gaping at the scene as if in a trance. With no time to waste, she shoved him back. It was easy despite his size. “Mother, get Papa!”

Wide eyed and pale, her mother rushed from where she’d been hiding behind the door and helped her haul the stunned stallion inside. Rarity slammed the door closed, gratefully letting her shield fall. If only Shining had taught her how to set one without constant maintenance! Now her skull was throbbing and she doubted she’d be able to pull up another anytime soon.

“Rarity,” her mother called, ears folded and lip trembling. “W-what’s going on?”

Without looking back, Rarity pointed with Ruby Heart for the door she knew was nearby. “Get in the kitchen with father.”

“But Rarity—”

“Now, Mother!” Noting a lull in the firing, she jumped up to one of the now-shattered windows and fired a shot from each gun. Misses, but the stallions outside dove for cover anyway. Not that the back fence would do much against bullets, but they were in no position to be picky. She followed the motion of one stallion and fired Ruby Heart, sending a bullet through the flimsy wood. A scream filled the air as she ducked back behind the wall and bullets flew her direction once more. Three down, five to go.

She glanced at the rest of the room and saw it empty, though her mother was gaping at the scene with one eye from around the kitchen doorway. Rarity guessed she’d have one more chance to fire on the back of the house before she’d have to head deeper inside.

Something brown and long flew through the other window, rolling to a stop on the floor. Dynamite.

Rarity rolled her eyes at her mother’s gasp. “Not this again.” Ignoring the sting in her horn, she snatched the sizzling stick up in her magic and tossed it back out the window. Startled shouts reached her ears just before the explosive went off, the blast shaking the house and sending pictures toppling off walls. As soon as the noise passed, she was in the window again, firing on those who hadn’t been stunned by the blast. One stallion’s throat poured blood. Another collapsed as a 45 caliber bullet ripped through his knee.

Turning on her heel, Rarity marched for the hall door, deftly changing Silver Lining’s cylinder without so much as a glance down. There came the sound of shattering glass and wood snapping. She passed through the hall and into the small foyer to see three burly earth ponies just beginning to recover from having burst through the front door and windows. The nearest two had just enough time to notice her presence before going down with a shot each.

The third decided to maintain her aggression, choosing to charge at Rarity instead of firing from a distance. The move caught her off guard and she barely managed to twist aside and avoid the shotgun blast. The mare hadn’t paused for the shot, and Rarity was still mid-turn when she was rammed.

The impact knocked her off her hooves and into the wall. She hit the floor shoulder-first, gritting her teeth against the pain and focusing instead on her enemy. The shotgun was already aiming her way, but a quick burst of telekinesis knocked the barrel sideways. The mare had enough sense to escape wasting a shot, but not to dodge; Ruby Heart and Silver Lining put holes in her hip and shoulder, respectively. The mare grunted, twisted, fell.

Rarity snatched her shotgun away with magic and turned it for the door just as a unicorn ran through, his dual pistols raised high. By the time he realized his opponent was actually on the floor, the shotgun unloaded its second round into his chest.

More shots came from outside. How many were left? Fear tried to trickle its way into Rarity’s brain, spurred on by the certain knowledge that she couldn’t keep this up forever. As she stood, she noted the faint purple glow coming from her necklace through her shirt. The sight soothed her, pushing her fears to the back of her mind and keeping her focused on the task at hand. Element of Harmony or not, I really must thank Coco for giving you to me.

The shotgun hit the floor, to be replaced by the two pistols her latest victim had just dropped. Retreating back down the hall and away from the hail of bullets, she began reloading Ruby Heart. It took a bit more of her attention than Silver Lining could, but she kept the pilfered pistols floating ahead of her. This proved prudent, because the instant they floated through the door into the living room somepony opened fire.

She didn’t dare fire back for fear of her shots going into the kitchen. Instead, she waited for the gunshots to cease. Still reloading Ruby Heart, she poked her head through the door, spotted Full Steam and a mare in the room, and used the floating guns to retaliate. Both dove behind the ugly couch, and as much as Rarity would love to put bullets in the thing she held back, knowing neither gun would penetrate it at this distance.

It wouldn’t be long before the ponies out front tried to get in again, but Rarity couldn’t leave these two near her parents. She would not be caught in yet another hostage crisis! With Ruby Heart reloaded, she entered the room and sent the two small pistols floating to either side of the couch, creating a crossfire. The guns fired simultaneously.

There came a scream, then a curse. Full Steam leaped over the back of the couch, only to freeze when he saw Rarity aiming Ruby Heart at his skull. His wide eyes locked with hers, his pistol held to the side where it had been when he’d jumped.

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “I warned you.”

Ruby Heart fired, and the stallion screamed. He dropped the gun and cradled his bleeding hand. Rarity heard the sound of hoofsteps and rushed forward, circling around Steam and placing him between her and the hallway. Ruby Heart pressed against the back of his skull while Silver Lining pointed to the door. A second later there came a short earth pony mare, who paused with shotgun at the ready. Rarity could make out two more ponies behind her.

“Don’t shoot!” Steam panted through the pain in his hand. “For Luna’s sake, hold your fire!”

Rarity hissed into his bleeding ear. “How likely are they to listen?”

“They’ll listen! W-won’t you guys?” His voice took on a whining quality.

The mare in the doorway seemed to be considering her options, her face set in an unpleasant grimace. One of the stallions behind her whispered in her ear. Her eyes narrowed on Rarity. Something told her these three might seriously consider gunning Steam down and claiming he was killed by Rarity in the fight.

“Let me make this simple,” she called over his shoulder. “The four of you can walk away right now and live to see another day. Or you can all die. Your choice.” She tapped Steam on the back of the head with the barrel of Ruby Heart. “This one already made one bad decision. I suggest—”

Abruptly, Full Steam dove to the left, leaving her exposed. Rarity reacted instantly, putting a bullet between the eyes of the mare before she had a chance to fire her shotgun. While the two behind her tried to get past the body as it fell, she hurried right, away from any potential attack from Steam. She looked over to see him diving behind the couch once more. She might have joined him had she not remembered the pistols she’d let fall back there, one of which he surely now had.

Rather than making herself a target, she retreated into the kitchen, passing through the door as a shot sent splinters of wood flying over her shoulder. She spotted her parents instantly, both by the door and brandishing iron skillets. By their frozen stances and gawking expressions, she doubted they were of any mind to use them. Seeing as they were taking up the best cover she could hope to get in this room, she promptly shoved an elbow into her father’s gut to push him back.

“Rarity!” Her mother clutched her pan to her chest as if her life depended on it. “What do we do? What do we do?”

Hoofsteps, coming fast! Rarity stepped back into the living room and took two shots with Silver Lining just as one of the stallions reached the door. The stallion dropped, and as he did she raised Ruby Heart and took another shot, hitting the second stallion’s shoulder before he could retreat back into the hallway.

A shot rang out, and a searing fire burned her left arm. Ruby Heart fell to the floor, but Rarity grit her teeth and fought through the pain. She jumped backwards on instinct just before a second shot rang out, and she swore she could feel the wind of the bullet at the tip of her muzzle. Arm held tight against her side, she dropped to one knee, pivoted, and fired the last bullet in Silver Lining.

Full Steam’s eye exploded, rocking his head back. His knees buckled, failed, and he fell sideways onto the couch, remaining eye wide and staring at nothing.

Silence. Rarity kept her gun aimed, even knowing it was empty. Her breathing came in slow gasps, her jaw clenched against the pain of her arm. Her ears swiveled one way, then the next. The quiet was interrupted by a picture on the wall falling to the ground, the glass shattering noisily.

Fleeing hoofsteps. The pony she’d hit in the shoulder, no doubt. With a groan, she stood up on wobbly legs. Silver Lining’s cylinder was replaced by magic. The ache this produced in her horn seemed only a minor nuisance compared to the fire in her arm. She moved for the back windows, stepping on the fallen curtains, and cautiously checked outside. Only bodies or ponies too hurt to get up.

Her father poked his head out of the kitchen. “Rarity?” He gasped at the sight of the blood on her arm. “You’re hurt!”

“Stay in there until I confirm they’re gone, please.” She ignored his gaping and stood next to the hallway door. A glance; it was empty. On to the foyer. No ponies here either, save the dead ones. A cautious glance outside revealed no threats. It was over.

But not for long. More would come, and they needed to be well away before that happened. She turned slowly, taking care not to jostle her arm too much, only to pause at the sight of her parents standing in the hallway. Her father’s shifting eyes spoke of confusion and horror as he observed her. “Are… are you okay?”

Part of her wanted to snap at them for ignoring her orders, but she knew it would amount to nothing now. Besides, it was a good question. Hissing through her teeth, she raised her arm and examined the wound. She couldn’t see it through her shirt, but she only saw blood coming from one side and she could still rotate it easily enough, pain notwithstanding. “The bullet didn’t go all the way through. We’ll have to pull it out, but I think I’ll be fine otherwise.”

He blinked. Swallowed. “H-how can you say that so calmly? You have a bullet in your arm.”

“Better my arm than my head,” she countered with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. Judging by how his face only grew more pallid, it had probably been more like a grimace.

Her mother shoved her way past him, pan still held tight against her chest. “Y-you killed them. You killed them! And th-they were trying to kill you. Why? Rarity, why?”

She snorted and put Silver Lining away. “If you’re quite done questioning the sincerity of my concerns, would you both please pack some things and go to the stable on Featherhead Street? We need to get out of here.”

Her father licked his lips and raised a trembling finger. “W-we need to fix that. You’re hurt.”

She took a closer look at her arm, then shook her head. “There’s no time. We’ll do it tonight. Right now we have to go.”

They didn’t move. Didn’t speak. They just stood there and trembled. At last, her mother managed to get words through her shaking lips. “But Rarity, we don’t understand. This Bulletproof Heart thing, we thought it was j-just a—”

Rarity shouted at the ceiling, making them jump back. “Be quiet and listen to me! Do you think I traveled all the way here from the Scorched Plains for a friendly visit? No! I saw your stupid ad in the paper and knew right away that the Bad Apple Gang intended to use you against me! I came back to save you, wading through mud and blood and shame to get here in one piece, and by the Sisters I am not going to fail even if I have to leave a trail of bodies in my wake. Which I did.” She kicked one of the bodies on the floor. Her parents flinched. “So unless you want to end up like one of these poor bastards littering the house and yard, you will stop talking, grab some provisions, and get your flanks to the stable!”

Ignoring their shocked expressions, she snatched Ruby Heart from the ground, topped off its clip, and stormed for the door.

Only to pause. She peered outside, examining the bodies. Earth ponies. Lots of earth ponies. She closed her eyes and listened intently. Something rustled overhead. Ruby Heart came out, pointed up, and fired.

There was a cry of pain, a few bumps and thumps, and then a pegasus dropped from the roof in a flailing heap in front of the door. He gripped his leg, face twisted and tears in his eyes. Paying no mind to the ongoing fire in her arm, Rarity kicked his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, and pressed the barrel of her gun between his eyes. “Are you bounty hunters or members of the Bad Apples?”

His glassy, frightened eyes met hers. Slowly, he raised his quaking arms in a gesture of surrender. “Apples. W-we’re Apples!”

Ah, good. That made things easier. “And who do you answer to?”

Sweat broke out on his forehead. He tried to speak once, twice, finally got something out on the third try. “I-I’m not supposed to say.” At her teeth-baring growl, he clenched his eyes tightly shut. “M-Mooriella! Mooriella runs the Mooisville sect!”

Her thoughts slowed as she took this in. “Are you saying a… cow is part of the Apple Family?”

His eyes darted to the gun still pressed against his forehead, then back to her. “She runs the Gang’s business in the Crystal Hills.” Seemingly as an afterthought, “Please don’t kill me.”

She’d never intended to, but wasn’t about to admit it. Instead she gave him her best glare, tempered by the pain still searing through her arm. It was getting pretty bad, like a fire growing hotter. “I want you to take a message for me. Tell Mooriella that the Bad Apple Gang can stop losing members if they would just leave me alone. I have done nothing but defend myself and my family, and I am tired of having to kill you ponies.” For this next part she lowered her voice and all but growled. “Can you tell her that for me, or will I have to send her your head with a note nailed to it?”

“I’ll tell her, I’ll tell her!”

Her insides churned at the fear in his voice, but she forced herself to smirk. “Then go.” She stood up, hissing at the pain in her arm as she did. By the time she used her magic to holster Ruby Heart, the pegasus had taken wing and disappeared among the rooftops. Once confident he was gone, she took a deep breath, let her shoulders go slack, and held her bleeding arm to her chest. Now she just had to go get Sweetie and—

A hand landed on her shoulder. In an instant, Silver Lining was out and pressed under the assailant’s chin. In another, she realized the wide-eyed face inches from hers was that of her mother. She leapt back with a cry, hurrying to point Silver Lining anywhere but at her own flesh and blood. “D-don’t do that! I could have killed you!” She cringed as her arm protested the sudden movement.

Her mother raised her arms as if to sooth. “Rarity, Honey, I need you to calm down. It’s over.”

She opened her mouth to offer a protest, but the energy left before she could voice one. Sagging, Rarity returned Silver Lining to its holster and failed to meet her mother’s gaze. “It’ll never be over, I think. This… This is my life now.” She closed her eyes tight, hand still clenched around the gun’s handle. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

“Rarity.”

She became caught in the hard glare of her mother’s blue eyes. “You are as far away from being a disappointment as you can possibly be. I don’t understand what’s going on, and I’ll admit to being a little scared right now…” Her calm, commanding poise broke slightly when her eyes darted to one of the bodies in the yard for a fraction of a second. “But we’ll deal with that later. You’re our daughter, and we are nothing but proud, especially knowing what you must have gone through to survive this long.”

That last part was like a knife to the heart. It hurt almost as much as the bullet in her arm. “Y-you wouldn’t say that if you really knew.”

“Enough of that.” Her mother’s gentle hands cupped her cheeks, accompanied by a warm smile. “Now’s not the time for doubt. We have things to do. It’ll all be better soon.” She turned her head to call over her shoulder. “Hondo. See to Rarity’s wound.”

Only now did Rarity notice her father standing at the doorway. He appeared as if he might faint, what with his knees buckling and sweat running down his cheeks. His eyes were locked on one of the bodies now littering his backyard. “W-what? Wound?”

Her mother turned to him, catching his attention. “You had to learn medicine a bit while coaching, didn’t you? So medicate our daughter.”

Rarity shook her head, tried to step away. “I need to get—”

“Leave Coco and Sweetie to me.” When she looked Rarity in the face, she must have seen the argument forming. Just as Rarity started to open her mouth, she spoke over it. “Honey, you’re hurt and bleeding all over. Do you really think you can get to the school without drawing attention? Stay here, get that bullet out, and help your father gather supplies. You’ll know what we need better than we do anyway. I promise I’ll be quick.”

That was just like her. Even when she didn’t have a full grasp of the situation, she knew how to take control. And for once, Rarity was glad for it. She was so tired of making decisions. Perhaps her mother’s choice wasn’t the best, but Rarity couldn’t say, and she was too tired and hurt to argue. “Okay. But hurry, please. More may come, and we might not have a lot of time.”

Her mother nodded, then stepped forward to give her a one-armed hug, careful not to touch Rarity’s wound. “No matter what happens, I’m glad you came.”

Those words felt so much better than Rarity would have anticipated. They filled her with a fresh warmth and made her want to break down into tears all over again. But she settled for a nod and a little sniffle. “Th-thank you, Mother.”

A quiet hum of acknowledgement, and then she was gone, walking down the road at a brisk pace. Rarity watched her go, then looked to her father. He stared back, face slack and eyes lost. It was like he didn’t recognize her at all. As much as the thought ached, she couldn’t really blame him for it. “Papa, I…”

He shook himself as though coming out of a trance, but didn’t lose that hesitant, frightened manner. “Come on,” he said, his voice quiet and uncertain. “Let’s… let’s look at that arm.”

Rarity followed him inside in silence. They took one look at the couch and Steam’s still-warm body on it and promptly moved to the kitchen. At his gesture, she sat at the table and watched him search through the small pantry. His quiet, almost meek manner disturbed her. What was he thinking? Was he scared? Angry?

Maybe he was upset with the new direction her life had taken. He might not even see her as his daughter anymore. And why not? She was filthy, bloodstained, murderous. And a whorse, but he didn’t know that part yet.

Stop it, Rarity! You’re not a whorse.

Then how do you describe what you did with that mare in Hoofington?

You were drunk! It’s not the same thing!

Then why don’t I feel any less guilty about it?

“Y’know…”

She flinched and looked up. Her father stood at the door, a small brown box in his hand. “Y-yes?”

He shifted from hoof to hoof, unable to look her in the eye. “I’ve, uh, never had to remove a bullet before. Hoofball fields aren’t known for their gunfights.”

At that she managed a smile. A real one. “It’s going to be okay, Papa. You have steady hands. I trust you.”

His grip on the box tightened. “That’s part of what scares me.” Nevertheless, he sat down next to her and opened the box. “Arm on the table.”

She obeyed, stifling a groan at the pain even that small movement brought. Now that she was paying attention though, it really wasn’t half as bad as she’d always feared. Oh, it hurt – a lot – but compared to starving in the desert, getting lost in caves, or having to shoot an innocent sand lizard? Not to mention having her virginity stolen by some brute of a—Stop.

Point was, the physical pain was far more tolerable than the emotional, at least so far.

Her father had some tweezers in one hand and a small wooden stick in the other. His hands were still and the blood had rushed from his face once again. She reached over to touch his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He started to nod. Stopped. “I never thought I’d have to pull a bullet out of my own daughter.”

His hesitance made her titter. “I have an idea of what you mean. Trust me, the faster we get it done, the easier it will be for both of us.”

He blinked and turned to her. “You’ve done this before?”

“Somewhat. I was the one pulling the bullet out.” She pressed her fingers to his lips, interrupting the inevitable question. “Papa, please. This really hurts and we don’t have a lot of time. I promise to tell you everything, but after the bullet is no longer in my arm.” That said, she took the stick from his hand and clamped it between her teeth.

Turning to the table, she pressed her arm against it and tried holding it in place with her good hand just above the elbow. It hurt, but hopefully it would keep her from moving too much. She didn’t look at him, not wanting him to know how fast her heart was beating now that she was about to face what Orchard had just a few days ago.

“Okay,” he muttered, using his free hand to hold the wound open. That alone made Rarity cringe, but she fought down the whine threatening to escape her throat. His horn flashed pale blue, and her entire arm was caught in his magical aura. It was held firmly in place, unable to so much as budge despite Rarity’s trial attempts. Why hadn’t she thought of that when dealing with Orchard?

Despite the nervousness he’d shown earlier, her father’s big hand was as steady and controlled as Rarity always remembered them. This didn’t make the tweezers slipping through the bullet hole hurt any less. She bit down so hard she thought she might break through the stick. A whimper squeezed its way out of her taut throat and her free hand clenched her arm so tightly her nails drew blood.

Her metaphors for fire seemed so hollow now. With her eyes tightly shut, she could almost imagine her arm really was ablaze! She could feel the tiny metal piece digging deeper, violating her flesh, searching for the prior invader. Stomping her hoof a few times, she idly wondered if cutting off the offending appendage might have been less painful. Every thought became devoted to absolutely not screaming!

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. Blinking through her tears, she caught a look at the bloody tweezers, a solid lump of metal caught in them. “I-Is that it?”

Her father nodded, tears in his own eyes. “Yeah. It didn’t take any cloth in with it, s-so that’s it.”

She slumped back in her seat with a groan. “I never want to have to do that again!” Noting how he rubbed his face, she asked, “Why are you crying? I was the one with a bullet in my arm.”

Without looking at her, he set the bullet aside and began rolling up her sleeve. “Should have done this to begin with. Not thinking. Stupid.” Noting her questioning look, he sighed. “I had to cause my daughter pain. It… It hurt, okay?”

At that, she gave him a smile, though she imagined it looked like a grimace given the pain hadn’t quite gone down yet. “You’re such a softie.”

“And you’re not the little princess I always thought you were.”

He might as well have punched her in the gut. “I… Papa, I didn’t mean…”

Noting her expression, he sighed and placed a hand on her neck. It was a familiar gesture, a loving one. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Hon. I just need time to take it all in, okay?”

She placed her hand on his and closed her eyes, gently rubbing her cheek against it. It felt so good to be touched by somepony she could trust, somepony who wouldn’t make her feel threatened.

“I tried to be good, Papa,” she whispered. “I tried so, so hard.”

Scooting his chair closer, he wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her close, pressing her cheek to his broad chest. “It’s okay, Honey. It’s gonna be alright. Whatever you had to do, it’s alright.”

Words. They were only words, nothing more. But for the first time since leaving Spurhoof, Rarity let herself believe them. She kept them close to her heart and tried to make it real, even if only for this moment. As the fresh tears filled her eyes, she breathed in his long-lost scent and let her fears fade away. Even she had to indulge in fantasy every now and then.

It didn’t last. He finally pulled away, and it was hard not to cling to him. “I gotta clean that,” he muttered before grabbing the towel in the emergency kit and going to the water basin in the corner. After soaking the rag and squeezing out the excess moisture, he sat down again and began carefully cleaning away the blood. To her relief, it appeared the worst of the bleeding had already stopped.

They shared a companionable silence as he worked. He got the bandages out and began wrapping her arm, but she stopped him when he tried to raise her arm up for bracing. “I might need to use that arm.”

He hesitated. “The wound won’t heal right if you don’t keep that arm still.”

She raised it herself, noting how the pain had mostly died down now that the bullet was out. She flexed her fingers and cringed at the sudden sting the motion produced. But she could still use them, and that was the important thing. “I’ll be careful, Papa. I won’t use it unless I absolutely have to. But if I’m caught in another fight, I’d feel much safer if I could carry a gun in each hand.”

“That’s—!” Lips working around his mumbles, he appeared to be fighting a war with himself. Apparently, one side won, for he sagged and nodded. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. I think it’s pretty obvious by now you know more about that kind of thing than I do.”

Thankfully missing her flinch, he resumed work bandaging her arm. “I never imagined that my little princess would have a talent for shooting. Fathers are supposed to be the ones protecting their daughters, not the other way around.”

She closed her eyes and bowed her head, accepting the nervous fear that trickled across the back of her mind. She thought about ponies she’d killed in the last few weeks alone. The memories flashed across her mind’s eye in a bloody parade.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t ever touch a gun. It’s one of the worst feelings I’ve ever known.”

He glanced at her, concern in his eyes. “You can’t ask me to let you fight alone.”

“Yes, I can,” she replied, calm and steady despite the throbbing of her arm as he finished bandaging her up. “I’ve already got the blood on my hands. I… I can take it. I can’t let you experience that kind of horror. You or Mother.”

His expression soured. She stood up before he could make an argument. “We don’t have time to discuss this. We have to start gathering—”

“They’re gone!”

They turned in unison to find her mother standing in the doorway, huffing and sweating as if she’d just sprinted a mile. Her eyes were wild as she leaned heavily against the wall.

Rarity was at her side even more quickly than her father. “What is it?”

“Who’s gone?” he demanded.

“Sweetie! C-Coco!” Rarity’s mother set a hand to her chest as she fought to get air. Tears were starting to stream down her cheeks as she looked between them. “They came to the school and took them away before I arrived. The teacher s-said they were hauled off at gunpoint and thrown into a wagon!”

Rarity was sure she heard her heart clunk against the floorboards. She stumbled back, legs wobbling, as the cold reality settled in. She’d been too slow, she’d not been good enough.

The Bad Apples had kidnapped her little sister.
> Episode 16: Family Matters
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


36th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


Rarity shoved some clothes into the travel bag, not paying attention to which ones she’d grabbed from the small wardrobe. As soon as she had three sets for each of her parents inside, she endured a small headache to magically cart the bag down the hall, through the living room and into the kitchen, where she dropped the thing down hard on the table. She promptly proceeded to raid the pantry as her parents watched. She didn’t look at either of them, afraid the ice within her would break out and hurt them somehow.

“Rarity?” her father ventured. “What are you doing?”

“Packing your things, since neither of you seem to be of the mind to do it.” She reached for a can of beans with her left hand, only to cringe and jerk back at the pain the motion produced. Right, bullet wound. “You both need to get out of Mooisville as soon as possible. I’ve already got some sand lizards ready for you.”

Her teary-eyed mother took a step closer. “Rarity, slow down. We still have to—”

“We don’t have to do a thing,” she snapped, snatching some loaves of bread with her magic and setting them into a small canvas bag. “You’re going south, and I’m going after Sweetie and Coco.”

Now her sputtering father spoke up. “Go after them? Are you crazy? You can’t just—”

Rarity, hackles rising, stopped her supply gathering just long enough to raise a finger at him. “Do not call me crazy. I might actually believe it.” Her eyes spotted some bottles of wheat beer. She caught them up and began emptying their contents in the sink.

“H-hey!” He started to approach, but hesitated. “That’s my… You can’t just…”

“You are traveling,” she answered curtly. “You’ll need to stay hydrated. You need water, not alcohol.” The empty bottles dropped to the counter with one resounding bang, making her father wince. “Now go to the well and fill these up.”

“Rarity.”

She ignored her mother in favor of opening a few more pantries. Her parents were living off of canned goods for the most part. Excellent.

“Rarity.”

She placed the cans into the travel case one at a time, pausing to check each one and discarding those of lesser nutritional value. Drawers slammed open and she snatched some wooden utensils for them to eat with.

“Rarity!”

What else would they need? Blankets for the cold nights. She started for their bedroom. Her mother caught her wrist, but she jerked it away and kept moving. “Leave it, Mother. You’ve got a long journey ahead.”

“Just stop for a second.”

Rarity tensed. “I can’t stop. I won’t let them win.” Her eyes darted to her father, who watched her with a lost expression, and the bottles sitting untouched on the counter. She whirled on him with a snarl. “I thought I told you to go fill those up!”

He hunched back at her outburst, but didn’t move to obey. “Honey, you need to listen to your mother.”

The ice hardened, threatening to shatter and lacerate everything near. “And you need to stop wasting time. Sweetie Belle and Coco are out there.”

“We know that. We just—"

“No, you don’t know!” She stomped towards him, barely aware of her ever rising voice. “You haven’t seen what the bastards are capable of! But I have, and I swear to the Sisters I am not going to let them spend an extra second in their filthy hands because you are too slow and stupid to—”

She registered the pain first, a palm striking against her cheek hard enough to turn her head. Rarity didn’t think. She only reacted, her fist flying before the sting fully registered. It connected with something soft, and the next thing Rarity knew her mother was lying on the floor. She blinked, anger vanished in a moment of terrible understanding.

Silver Lining was halfway out of its holster.

Silence filled the kitchen, a foreboding specter. Rarity stood frozen, fist still extended and weapon at the ready. Her breath left her as a storm of thoughts invaded her mind.

I hit my own mother.

Why would I do that?

I was about to shoot her!

What’s wrong with me?

I’m sorry!

I should have been more careful.

Will I kill my own family?

I didn’t mean to!

She hurt me.

She’s my mother!

I’m so sorry!

They’ll hate me now.

How could I?

She’s okay, it was just a punch.

Put the damn gun down!

Movement brought the silence back to her skull. The breath returned to her lungs as her mother pushed herself up on one arm and used the other to rub her cheek. She stared up at Rarity with wide eyes. Those eyes brought back the chill to Rarity’s heart, even though there was no accusation in them. They held something far worse: pity.

“Rarity, what happened to you out there?”

She looked to her father. Back to her mother. She wasn’t sure which of them had asked the question. A desperate thought invaded her mind: Get away. Get away before you do something worse. She acted right away, rushing for the door.

Two steps later, her mother tackled her around the midsection in a tight hug. “Don’t! It’s not your fault!”

“Let me go! I don’t want to hurt you!” She squirmed and pushed and pulled at her mother, eyes set on the kitchen door, but made no progress before a large pair of arms caught her by the shoulders.

Her father pressed his muzzle to her neck, wetting it with fresh tears. “Stop, Rarity. Just stop. Please.”

She fought for a little longer, but the hurt in his voice and the tears on her coat sapped at her energy. Soon she was sagging in their combined embraces, sobbing and clutching her mother’s shoulders. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t mean to.”

“It’s okay,” her mother insisted through her own sniffles. “I’m all right. Your mother’s made of tougher stuff than that.”

“It’s not okay,” she muttered back, more and more of her fight draining with every breath. “I’m not okay. There’s nothing about this that is okay.”

Her parents whispered soothing words, eventually managing to coax her into one of the dining chairs. Her mother insisted, over and over again, that she was okay, but Rarity just couldn’t believe it. She gripped their hands in her own, afraid that if she let go they’d disappear and leave her to her wretched villainy. Her father knelt at her side and rested his chin gently on her shoulder, like he used to do when she was a foal, while her mother used her free hand to stroke Rarity’s mane. And the whole time, Rarity kept telling herself that she was the worst daughter in the history of Equestria.

As she was finally starting to calm down, her father chuckled dully. “My little princess, a feisty warrior. Who’d have thought?”

Doing her best to smile, even if she couldn’t feel it, she replied with a remorseful, “I’m sorry I called you stupid, Papa.”

Her mother rang in near-instantly. “You should never apologize for the truth, dear.”

“Love you too, Cookie.”

“Of course you do. I can bake.”

Rarity couldn’t help it; she giggled. With one last squeeze of their hands, she let go and rubbed her eyes clean of tears. “I’m sorry I hit you, Mother.”

“I’m not,” she replied with confidence. “It got you to sit down and cool off. In fact, I’m proud.”

Her vision recovered, Rarity looked to her mother and cringed at the substantial bruise forming on her cheek. “Proud? Of what?”

Her mother grinned as she rubbed the big blue and black spot. “My daughter’s got one heck of a left hook.”

Hondo groaned and stood up. “Mares are so weird.”

“And don’t you forget it, mister.”

“I won’t. You don’t give me the chance to.” He settled in the seat opposite Rarity and leaned against the table. “Rarity? What’s going on?”

She tensed, her heart feeling as if it had been squeezed to a tenth its size. “W-we don’t have time for that.” She started to stand. “Sweetie’s—”

Her mother’s magic pushed her back down. “Both of our daughters are in trouble.” She laid a gentle hand on Rarity’s shoulder. “We need to help the one that’s in front of us. Please, Rarity. You’re wound up tighter than a clock, and it’s clearly been bad for you. Talk to us.”

As much as Rarity wanted to object, looking into the eyes of her parents stole her resistance away. Yet… Sweetie couldn’t wait for this. She tried one last, feeble argument. “The longer we wait… the h-harder it will be to…”

“Honey?” Her father caught her eye. “Do you know where to find Sweetie?”

What was left of her heart sank deep into the recesses of her stomach as she realized she had no idea. Lips trembling, she shook her head.

“Then rushing out there isn’t going to do anything. So talk. Tell us what’s going on. Give us context.”

She held out for a few seconds longer, but at last her defenses cracked. The moment she opened her mouth, it all broke free like water from a dam. Braeburn, the griffons, Rockstead. She decided to skip Spike and Fluttershy, knowing they wouldn’t appreciate being added to the tale, but otherwise would hold nothing back. The more she talked, the more she realized she wanted to talk. It was like some pressure was getting released.

She was an hour into her story, having just been abandoned (for lack of a better word) by Yearling when the local authorities showed up. The whole thing had to be put on hold for another hour while her mother spoke with a quartet of armed deputies and arranged for the bodies to be taken away. Rarity gave a statement, but it was clear the officers didn’t believe that she was responsible for defending the home. Which felt surprisingly good to hear; at the very least, it meant news of her actions hadn’t reached Mooisville yet. Then again, she and her parents tactfully left out the whole ‘Bulletproof Heart’ thing for obvious reasons. They might not have believed it anyway.

This neighborhood had always had a crime problem, but seeing how calm the deputies were about such a massive gunfight taking place in a residential area hammered home a grim reality: it had gotten worse since she’d left. Maybe it was a good thing she planned to drag her parents and sibling out of this place. Any neighborhood where it took the police more than an hour to get to the site of a gunfight and they barely seemed concerned was no place to live. Her father seemed convinced that the rise in crime was the new mayor’s fault. Rarity didn’t presume to judge things she’d not been around to witness.

The deputies left with a promise to “open an investigation into finding Sweetie Belle and Coco Pommel”, but Rarity strongly suspected that translated into “we’re not even going to try.” When the last of the bodies had been cleared, her parents pressed her to finish her story. So she did, relieved to finally get back to it. She already felt a little better from what she’d told at first, and the relief of letting the rest of it out was palpable.

When the story ended her father, ears twitching and eyes smoldering, was the first to break the silence. “We need to make a detour to Hoofington. When I find this… this AJ…” He snorted, his fists pressed tight against the table. “With my bare hands. I swear to Mother Night.”

Admitting to that mistake had been difficult, and even now Rarity felt her stomach churning and her thighs burning from the blurry memories. And yet, wearily, she replied, “I doubt we’ll ever hear from her again. Honestly, it’s for the better.”

“For the better? After what she did to you?”

“I was drunk, Papa.” Rarity clenched her eyes shut and turned her face away from them. “What she did was wrong, but the fact remains that I gave her the opening she needed.”

“That’s doesn’t excuse…!” At her mother’s hard look, he crossed his arms and glared at the table. “It just burns me that I couldn’t be there to protect my daughter, okay?”

“It’s okay, Papa,” she muttered. “It’s not your fault.”

He slammed his fist down on the table. “Damn it, it’s not okay! Look at what’s become of you. You’re a ticking time bomb!”

“Hondo!”

Rarity kept her head bowed and shoulders hunched. “No. He’s r-right, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I l-lashed out. I just…” She hugged her shoulders in an attempt to stop their shaking. “I’m just so scared. I never know when somepony’s going to try to kill me or… or try to get between my legs. I see threats everywhere. I th-think it’s driving me crazy.” She accepted her mother’s hurried embrace, for once not jumping at the contact.

Quiet returned to the room for a time. Rarity’s gaze was locked upon the familiar bumps and ridges of the stone table. How many breakfasts, lunches, and dinners had she had in this very seat? It had never been much. Peasant meals, really. Now that she was here, in her mother’s warm arms and under her father’s protective gaze, she realized she could really use some of her father’s grilled carrot dogs and home-grown potatoes.

“It’s not right,” he muttered. “This has to stop, Rarity.”

She raised her head just enough to meet his eyes. “And how would we stop it, Papa? You’ve seen for yourself that they aren’t interested in negotiation.”

“We can pay them off!”

“Even if we could buy Manehattan itself, this has gone beyond money,” she countered calmly. She rubbed her mother’s shoulder gently, and the mare understood the signal to end their little hug. “They’re out for my blood now, and won’t stop until they’ve got it.”

His scowl weakened, his gaze turning into something of a plea. “But there has to be something. Somepony who can help us.” He snapped his fingers. “What about that Flaming Vermillion? She hates the Apples, doesn’t she?”

Her mother ended that thinking with a firm glare. “We are not putting our family in the crossfire of a war between the Bad Apples and a vigilante. The whole idea is to keep away from danger, not invite it.”

His ears folded back as he sank into his seat. “I suppose. I just think we need some extra protection, that’s all. Celestia knows we can’t hire it.”

“Maybe we could hide somewhere.” Her mother turned to her. “That’s what you were trying to do, isn’t it?”

It was. But she’d already travelled so far, and there weren’t many options. She couldn’t have her entire family on the run, she’d never be able to protect them that way. They needed someplace to lay low, somewhere they could hide while she kept the Apples busy. After all, it was her they wanted. Even kidnapping Sweetie and Coco was surely little more than a ruse to draw her out.

But where could they go? The buffalo wouldn’t let them stay, Rockstead wouldn’t be safe, Las Pegasus and Mareami were too dangerous. Seaddle, perhaps? It was remote enough, and they might be able to blend in with the locals. Still, who was to say the Bad Apples didn’t have connections over there? The Apple Family surely would. Perhaps she could ask Spike…

Spike.

She sat up abruptly, interrupting a heated debate between her parents with her motion. She rubbed her vest, feeling Ruby Heart beneath. He’d made an offer to her. Would he let her grant that offer to her family instead? He was the kind sort. Granted, a life underground would be rather dull after a while, but perhaps it wouldn’t be for too long. All she had to do was settle her business with the Bad Apples and Apple Family, one way or the other. And really, what safer place could there possibly be?

Her father’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Rarity? You have an idea?”

“I do.” But she couldn’t tell them, not yet. Spike needed to be asked. It was only proper. “I have a friend. I’m confident he could protect you, but I’ll have to send him a letter first.”

“Marvelous!” Her mother clapped her hands at the news. “And where does this fellow live?”

“South.” Rarity grimaced at the distance that would have to be crossed. Again. “Very south. You’ll have to pack for a season-long journey. Maybe longer.”

“We’ll do it if it means keeping the family safe.” Her father then peered at her. “But what’s this ‘you’ business?”

Catching his meaning, Rarity tried to smile. The truth of what she was about to say had her feeling oh-so tired. “I’ll be going after Sweetie and Coco, of course. You two will go on ahead.”

He pounded the table with his fist yet again. “Not a chance! You actually expect me to let you face this alone?”

Rarity didn’t lose her smile. Her heart swelled in the presence of his protective instincts. Even so… “I’ve been handling it on my own for a while now, Papa. I can do it, of that I can assure you.”

“Like Tartarus you can!” He crossed his arms, visibly puffing up like some agitated toad. “I won’t stand for it. You hear me? I’m going with you!”

She chuckled at his determination. “Papa, I’ve already learned so much about surviving out there. Have you ever even left Mooisville?”

“I can learn just as well as you can, young lady.”

She crossed her arms as well, maintaining her patience. “You could. Or you might die in the first fight. I was lucky. The Sisters were smiling on me. But while I’m teaching you how to use a gun, Sweetie and Coco will be getting farther and farther ahead. We’ll need to move fast.”

“You don’t think I can—”

“Dear?” Her mother faced him, her face cool but worry visible in her eyes. “I think Rarity has a good point. We’re more likely to get in the way than help.”

His eyes bulged. “How can you say that? You’re practically asking her to get herself killed!”

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” she admitted with a sigh. “But in case you missed it, it was Rarity who defended this house against overwhelming numbers. What did we do, Hondo? Hide in the kitchen holding frying pans, as if they might actually protect us from bullets. Like it or not, Rarity knows what she’s doing. And us?” She leaned heavily against the table, at last taking her gaze away from his. “We don’t. All we’ll do is slow her down.”

Rarity didn’t know whether to thank the mare for her support and trust or try to comfort her clear sense of helplessness. A few seconds of indecisiveness later, she reached over to rub her mother’s back. The mare tilted her head just enough to smile for her, but it was a small and tremulous thing.

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

“Papa—”

“No!” He snorted over bared teeth and stood up so fast his chair fell over. “It’s not right. I can’t let this happen. You’re not going alone, and that’s final.”

As frustrating as he was being, Rarity still couldn’t conjure any anger towards him. She merely shook her head. “You no longer get the final say in what I do and don’t do. I’m not your—”

“She’s my daughter!” His entire body shook as he closed his eyes tight against their stares. His fists were clenched at his sides. “I already failed one. I can’t for the other! Y-you can’t ask me to… to…” His chest heaved, and Rarity came to the abrupt realization that his manner was not due to anger. Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes, tears he was clearly struggling to hold back. “A father is supposed to protect his family. I’m supposed to be the strong one, not you!”

There was that pain in the heart again, like little needles poking without mercy. Rarity hurried around the table to give the stallion a tight hug. “It’s okay, Papa. Just calm down. Can you do that for me, please?”

He remained stiff at first, but at last he reciprocated, engulfing her in an air-stealing grip. “I finally got you back.” His breath caught for just a moment as he rubbed his hand through her hair. “My little princess is back, and n-now you want me to let you go again.”

She pulled back just enough to smile for him, but she could feel the trembling in her lips. “Oh, Papa, stop. Y-you’re going to make me break down again, and I think we’ve had enough of those today. Don’t you?”

He smiled back, tears at last trailing down his cheeks. “I might be willing to part with my stallion card if it means keeping you at my side a little bit longer.”

With a giggle, she pressed her cheek to his broad chest. “I love you too. Please don’t think all of this is a sign of your failure as a father. You’ve been wonderful! I was just too much of a brat to recognize it. If I could do it all again, I never would have left home.”

He said nothing for a time, but then he held her at arm’s length. “I still want to come.”

She met his gaze and smiled for him once more. “And I’m still saying no.” He sagged, looking for all the world like he’d just learned about his daughter’s death. By now the pain had been going on so long that she hardly bothered to fight it. It seemed the world was determined tenderize her heart today. “You two should get ready to go. I can’t delay my search much longer.”

“But… surely I can help,” he tried, voice feeble. “Somehow?”

Ears lowering, Rarity hesitated. “I… I don’t think so.”

Her mother’s voice, strong and commanding, interrupted his reply. “We can, actually.”

They turned in unison to find Cookie watching them with a firm, narrow-eyed expression. Rarity was the first to ask the obvious question. “What do you mean?”

Her mother crossed her arms and nodded in a manner suggesting she’d just come to a decision. “Your father and I may not live the lives of the elite and glamorous, but we’ve lived in this town all our lives. We have connections all over Mooisville. Give us a day to go talk to some ponies, and again tomorrow. Somepony’s bound to know something.” At Rarity’s hesitancy, she added sharply, “Would you rather go running around the city and wilderness with no ideas?”

Despite her misgivings, Rarity had to admit she had a point. If she left now, she’d have no bearing. How much time might she waste just trying to figure out which direction the Bad Apples had gone? Having to wait here while her dear sister and friend moved farther and farther away didn’t sit well with her, but if her parents did find something then she might actually save time.

Then again… “But what if the bad Apples notice your snooping? You might not come back home.”

Her mother scowled, but didn’t take long to respond. “Rarity, you want us to let you save them? Fine, we’ll let you do it. But we’ve got to help in some way. Your father’s right, Sweetie is our daughter just as she is your sister, and Coco has become a friend of ours. We need to do something, and this is within our power. We’ll take the risk.”

A glance at her father confirmed that he was as devoted to this course as her mother was. Rarity heaved a sigh and nodded. “Very well, if that’s what you wish. But if you don’t come back I will be most cross with the both of you.”

Her father snorted. “I think we’ve been through worse.”

“Speak for yourself,” her mother replied, rubbing her bruise.





As much as Rarity would have loved to have remained at the house and enjoy what may be her last moments in her old home, she couldn’t just sit idle. So, while her parents went about their respective tasks, she returned to where she’d ordered the Dust Devils. She found Misty Mane over in the stables proper, feeding some lizards their lunch.

Misty spotted her coming in and froze, eyes going wide. The reaction lasted only an instant, however, before she was all smiles once more. “Oh, Rarity! You’re back. S-sorry, your lizards aren’t quite ready.”

Rarity smiled in return, though she feared her weariness was on display. “That’s quite alright, Darling. Actually, I came to ask if you could hold them overnight. Things… aren’t going quite as planned.”

“Oh?” Misty’s ears folded back as her smile faded. She fidgeted and glanced around as if expecting an ambush. “So… So is it true?”

Her skittish manner was like a warning bell in Rarity’s head. Her eyes darted about the place, but as far as she could tell they were alone. “Is what true?”

“I heard that a posse attacked your parents’ place. Shot it to pieces.” Misty’s eyes dropped to Silver Lining with a mixture of fear and awe. “Rumor has it you killed them.”

“Oh, is that all?” Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, it’s true. My, but word spreads fast, does it not?”

Misty’s jaw dropped, and it took her three tries to get any extra words out. “Y-you mean, you got into a gun fight? Against a dozen ponies? And won?”

With a dismissive sniff, she replied with a haughty, “Darling, I’ve faced far worse odds than that, and recently.” She caught herself rubbing her wound and promptly put both arms behind her back. Noting Misty’s ongoing gawking, she asked an uncertain, “What?”

Anxious eyes darted from the gun to her and back. Misty swallowed, licked her lips. “Rarity? Are you… the Bulletproof—?”

Rarity raised a finger. “Don’t say it!” She shuddered and shook her head firmly. “I despise that name.”

Misty staggered back, her eyes boggling. “S-so it’s true. You’re really her. You, that fashion-obsessed filly from school. This is surreal.”

“Surreal for you, maybe.” Rarity rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “For me it’s been a living nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” Misty grabbed Rarity’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Rarity, there are ponies out there who think you’re a hero!”

That gave her pause. Rarity stared at her old classmate, the word ‘hero’ echoing in her head. “They… do?”

“Of course.” A wide grin split Misty’s lips. “The Bulletproof Heart is the first drifter to gain fame all across Equestria since the Rainbow Gang! There are newspapers in Manehattan wondering about your identity. My baby cousin is talking about being a drifter like you when she grows up. Some ponies see you as an idol, leading the fight against—”

“Shut. Up.”

Misty froze, mouth half-open and eyebrows hidden in the locks of her silver mane. “Bwuh?”

Rarity felt that familiar ice building up within, but she wrestled it down into the bottom of her stomach. She refused to do to this pony what she’d already done to her mother. One embarrassment was enough. Fighting to keep her composure, she took a long step back, out of Misty’s grasp. She then did her level best to channel all her anger through her eyes as she spoke in a cool, even tone. “What was the first thing I confirmed to you?”

“Uh…” Hesitantly, Misty pointed at her. “That you’re the Bulletproof Heart?”

“Bandits were shooting at my house.” She took a moment to grind her teeth. Her left hand balled into a fist, the motion sending a fresh sting up her arm. She focused on that pain, flexing her fingers again and again. “My home, Misty. My family. Did you think I came here to bask in my own glory?”

Misty’s cheeks paled. “Oh. I, uh, didn’t realize…”

“Realize what?” Rarity hissed, once again shoving that bladed ice down. She was distinctly aware of her right hand on Silver Lining. “That ponies are trying to kill me? That every day I’m in fear for my life? That I spend my days sweaty, my nights freezing, and the entire time dirty?” She let out a growl that made her old classmate flinch back. “My life is a living Tartarus, Misty, and you’re telling me that ponies are celebrating this.”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Misty raised her hands high as if to offer a surrender. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“On that we can certainly agree.”

A pained grimace crossed her face. “I didn’t understand, Rarity. I’m just a stablemare. What do I know beyond sand lizards?”

The shards of ice lost a bit of their sharpness, but didn’t fade completely. It was at least enough to let Rarity relax her shoulders and take her grip off Silver Lining. She kept tensing and untensing her left fist though, willing the pain in her arm to melt some more of the ice. It helped, but only a little. With a sigh, she softened her expression and met Misty’s alarmed eyes. “My apologies, Darling. I have a nasty temperament of late. It comes with regular near-death experiences.”

Slowly, Misty lowered her arms. Her alarm faded to uncertainty, then at last a concerned frown. “Occupational hazard, huh?”

“Something like that.” Accepting that she would be spending the rest of the day frustrated, Rarity finally unclenched her fist and focused on the task at hand. “Let’s just forget it, please? I came here for a reason and I don’t want to argue with old friends.”

“Of course.” Misty tried to offer a smile, but it was blatantly forced. “Um, but you’ll let me make this up to you later, right?”

“I don’t intend to be in Mooisville long enough for that.” Seeing the pony’s disappointment, Rarity added, “That said, is there such a thing as a register for all the sand lizards in Mooisville?”

This made the stablemare’s ears rise. “You mean a ledger of lizards and their owners in the city? Yeah, they keep one at Town Hall. But what would you want that for?”

“My sister and close friend have been kidnapped,” she replied curtly. “I know it’s a long shot, but I’m hoping the Bad Apples had kept the lizards used in their escape in town.”

“Oh.” Misty considered this, all concern fading as she rubbed her chin with her thumb. “I dunno, Rarity. If you could identify the lizards then that’s one thing, but how is that going to… Wait, did you say Sweetie’s been kidnapped?”

“I’m reaching,” Rarity admitted with a grumble. “Mother and Father are out there trying to gather their own leads, but I can’t just sit at home and wait for them.”

Misty hummed and began to pace, her boots ringing on the wood floor. She absent-mindedly reached out to scratch under the neck frills of the lizard she’d been feeding a moment ago. “I can go get a copy of the ledger, that’s easy. Not fast, though. At this point, Town Hall will be closed by the time I get there. Best I can promise is morning tomorrow.”

That long? Rarity suppressed a groan and began flexing her fingers again. She’d already come to accept that she’d probably be spending a night in Mooisville, but still, this just added another delay, and that assumed the list could even do anything for her. “If that’s the best you can do, then fine. Do you think you could see if a pony named Full Steam owned any? I’d love to get an address.” Her eye caught a hint of blue, which she approached.

“Full Steam?”

Halfway to Cerulean, Rarity came to a pause. Misty had sounded… frightened. She turned from the sleeping lizard and found her old classmate’s face had gone white. “Yes, Full Steam. Have you heard of him?”

“Heard of him? Everypony in Mooisville knows him.” Misty began toying with her mane and looking around, as if she expected somepony to be listening in on their conversation. “He’s the fastest gun in town. Five sheriffs and six deputies are dead because of him. He runs a protection racket on the north side. He’s really bad news, and if you think you can fight him—”

“Earth pony? Lavender coat, black mane, big and bulky?”

Misty’s eyebrows shot up. “H-how did you—?”

“He’s dead,” Rarity curtly declared, turning back to Cerulean and stroking his scales just under the neck. He shifted in his sleep and began trilling pleasantly, making her smile. “I only hope that doesn’t bring even more of his ilk to my parents’ doorstep. At least, not until we’ve left.”

The sputtering sound behind her almost made her smile. Almost. “Y-you killed Full Steam? Rarity, that’s incredible.”

Realizing Cerulean wasn’t going to provide her much attention, she left him to his snoozing and approached Misty. “No, it was bloody and hectic and—” she raised her bandaged arm in demonstration “—painful. But it’s done, one way or another. I trust you know where my parents live?”

Staring as though dazed, Misty nodded slowly.

“Good, then I expect you there tomorrow morning with the ledger. You have my appreciation, and more of it should you keep what we’ve discussed between us, at least until my family and I have left town. Do you think you can do that?”

Another slow, stunned nod. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Excellent! I’ll see you then, Darling. Tata!”

She tried not to look in a hurry when she left, but the moment she’d turned the street corner she broke into a jog and let her smile fall. Rarity’s mind was frantic with the implications of her conversation. She’d murdered a notorious figure known all across Mooisville. The fact he worked for the Bad Apples was problem enough, but with this news? Ponies would find out. Ponies had already found out! Others might come for her, and they would know precisely where to look.

She couldn’t stay the night at her parents’. Her parents couldn’t stay the night at her parents’. Something would happen, certainly. But she couldn’t go anywhere until they came back from their errands. Would somepony show up before they got home? The next group might have more ponies, and she doubted she could withstand another attack of the same scale.

Her eyes drifted to the ponies and zebras in the street. Was she being watched? She couldn’t tell, couldn’t trust her eyes. She needed a way to hide in plain sight. An inn, perhaps. No, too obvious, they might check those. Rarity didn’t know how deep the Bad Apples were embedded in this town, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Fear and worries echoed in her head all the way home. Solutions steadfastly refused to make themselves known. There had to be one, but Rarity couldn’t think of anything! If only she had some friends…

For the second time that day, Rarity came to a stop in a familiar alleyway. Post Script’s place to her left. Old Mare Scrutiny’s to her right.

“In plain sight…”

After checking to ensure the alley was empty, she hurried to the door on her right and knocked lightly. She had to knock two more times, each after long periods of anxious fidgeting, before the latch finally sounded and the door opened a crack. A bespectacled earth pony, tan with a neatly combed brown mane, peered at her from the shadows. “Can I help you?”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I was hoping Mrs. Scrutiny would be…” Her words failed her as she examined the young stallion’s face and that ridiculous green bowtie. “Gizmo?”

“Umm… yes?” He hesitated, eyes checking the street. “Do I know you?”

That squirrelly voice couldn’t be imitated. Rarity grinned and pressed a hand to her chest. “Gizmo, it’s me, Rarity. I was two years your senior in school, remember?”

The door squeaked open a fraction more. Gizmo poked his head out the door to get a better look. “Rarity?” He focused closely on her face, taking in her smile. At last, his eyes lit up in recognition and he opened the door wide. “Rarity! By Celestia’s Mane, it’s been an eternity. When did you get home?”

A wave of relief washed over her. Perhaps this idea wasn’t so far fetched after all. “This morning, actually. I’m sure you heard the noise.”

“Noise?” He cocked his head. “I did hear there was a gunfight, but I was out at the time.” His lack of concern over the rumor was almost as telling as the deputies’ nonchalance earlier. Bowing his head, he abruptly noticed Silver Lining on her hip. “Wait, that was you?”

“Indeed.” Rarity pursed her lips and tried glancing past him into the shadowed house. “Why are you in Old Mare Scrutiny’s place?”

“Uh, because she’s my grandmother?”

“Oh? I had no idea.” Should she feel guilty for that? After all, Mrs. Scrutiny had been her neighbor all her life. How could she have not known? “I was hoping to ask for her assistance with a matter most delicate.”

He stared at her, his expression neutral. That proved most frustrating; she needed his cooperation, not his suspicion. His eyes darted to Silver Lining for an instant. “You’re not getting my grandmother into any trouble, are you?”

Rarity hesitated. She had to admit, it was a proper question given the circumstances. “I will do everything in my power to ensure that doesn’t happen. But the help is desperately needed, that I can assure you.”

He stepped away, a scowl forming on his face. “No. I’m not putting grandma at risk.”

She caught the door with her hoof before he could close it. “Wait. Gizmo, please. My family is on the line. Surely she’d be willing to at least see me?”

If anything, his expression grew even more dark. “My grandma hasn’t seen anything in three years, and you’ve been gone longer than that. You can’t bat your eyes to get me to do your bidding this time. Now get outta the door.”

Resisting his attempts to force the door closed was easy. Thinking of a way to get her point across was not. Ignoring his grunting and curses, she allowed herself a moment to consider who she was speaking to. “Gizmo… I understand you want to protect your grandmother.” She caught his chin with her magic, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “So please think about my situation. I know I was a bit of a diva before, and I apologize if my antics caused you heartache, but right now I’m asking you to forget that. There are ponies out to kill me and my family, and they will do so if I can’t find a place to hide them for one night. That’s all I’m looking for. If you can’t accommodate me, that’s fine. I’ll try to think of something else.”

She reached out to grasp his shoulder. He froze at the contact, his cheeks abruptly going pink. The sight would have once filled her mind with opportunities and guilty pleasure, but now she only felt a quiet hope. “Your grandmother and my parents have been friends a long time. I am asking, from the bottom of my heart: help them stay alive. Even if only for one night.”

He narrowed his gaze, seemed to consider. But then he shook his head roughly, breaking her magical hold. “I’m sorry, but—”

“Gizmo! Who’s that at the door?”

With a  grimace, he stepped back to look deeper in the house, though he still blocked Rarity’s path. “Nopony important, grandma. It’s just— You should be in bed!”

“Don’t sass me, young colt,” an aged, biting voice countered. “This is still my home, and that means I get to decide what visitors are and ain’t important. Now git outta my way before I whip you with Woody!” The clunk of wood on wood resounded, making Gizmo flinch.

“But Grandma, you know the doctor said for you to take it easy for a while. Just let me—” He yelped and jumped back as a cane swung past his face, missing by only inches. “Okay, okay! Watch the glasses, they cost almost as much as your medical bills.”

“And don’t you forget who paid for them glasses,” Mrs. Scrutiny growled.

“I did. Ow!”

Rarity couldn’t help giggling; blind or no, Old Mare Scrutiny hadn’t changed a bit. She hobbled into the doorframe, cane tapping lightly. A yellow unicorn with a wiry, loose-hanging pink mane, she peered Rarity’s way with foggy grey eyes. “Oooh, now there’s a giggle I’d recognize anywhere. Pretty as a bell, so that must be Miss Rarity Belle.”

Balking, Rarity asked, “You remember me by my voice alone?”

The elderly, wrinkled mare chuckled throatily. “Young missy, you and y’er sister used to run all up and down these streets, laughing and playing and making a ruckus. Years I listened to that sound while in here, making my bread and sewing my thread. Of course I remember you.” Her ears swiveled around for a moment as if in search of something. They stopped, and she thrust her came over her shoulder, whacking something behind the door.

Gizmo cursed. “Dang it, Grandma! What was that one for?”

“For calling young Miss Belle here unimportant! Don’t ya know I taught this filly everything I know? She’s practically family.” Mrs. Scrutiny promptly turned her attention back to Rarity. “You need to be careful out there, Miss Belle. I heard gunshots this morning, and for all we know the hoodlums are still around. Neighborhood got dangerous since you left.”

The warning made Rarity cringe. “Actually, that was me. My family’s in a lot of trouble, Mrs. Scrutiny, and I was dearly hoping you could assist us.”

“You?” The mare laughed out loud, banging her cane against the floor as she did. “That’s the silliest thing I ever did hear! As if a sweet thing like you’d ever fire a gun.”

Rarity wasn’t sure how to take that. Annoyed, because the mare didn’t believe her? Or maybe disappointed, since she was right: the Rarity she knew never would have even touched a gun, much less fired one. She idly wondered if the coming truth would lessen her image in the old mare’s ey... opinion. The idea left a sour taste in her mouth, for there were few ponies she respected quite as much as Old Mare Scrutiny.

But the truth had to come out, so she stiffened her shoulders and stood tall. “I’m afraid this isn’t a joke. A posse of outlaws shot up my parents’ home, and I was barely able to fend them off.”

Mrs. Scrutiny seemed to be waiting for a punchline, her grin was so wide. But as the seconds passed and Rarity said nothing more, her smile gradually faded. When she finally spoke, it was with a quiet, calm seriousness. “Was anypony hurt?”

Despite the mare’s blindness, Rarity hid her arm behind herself. “No, we’re fine. But more of them may come, so we’ll need a place to hide until morning.”

Gizmo appeared by his grandmother, his voice soothing but his eyes menacing. “I was just telling Ms. Belle that we couldn’t possibly—”

“Tell your family they can hide here for the night.”

“G-Grandma!” The young stallion flexed his fingers as if in hopes of strangling somepony. “What if whoever did that finds out? I can help you around the house, but I can’t defend you against a gang of gun-toting maniacs!”

The old mare sighed, her expression weary. “You’re a good one, Gizzy, and don’t think I don’t appreciate what you do for me. But Rarity’s family has been good to me too, and I ain’t about to turn my back on ‘em.”

He looked at the back of his grandmother’s head, then to Rarity. He had the expression of someone caught in a corner with no idea how to escape. He hemmed and hawed, and the mares said nothing in the meantime. At last, Gizmo shot Rarity a pleading look. “You promise me they won’t find out?”

With the most comforting smile she could manage, she replied, “I will do everything in my power to keep that from happening.” She wasn’t about to make a promise she might not be able to keep. She’d made too many of them already.

Gizmo narrowed his eyes at her and opened his mouth, but closed it when his grandmother rapped her cane against the floor. “Good enough for me. Come on in, Rarity, before somepony sees you. You and my stubborn grandcolt can keep an eye on your place from the kitchen window.”

Mrs. Scrutiny’s home wasn’t very large, even considering she lived alone. The hallway was cramped, made more so by an end table against one wall with an antique lamp. The kitchen was also the living room, with just enough space for the three ponies to mill about in comfort, but it wouldn’t be so when Rarity’s parents arrived. One door in the kitchen led to a toilet while another led to the main bedroom. Back in the hall was a door to a second, slightly smaller bedroom. And that was the lump sum of the old mare’s living space.

She cracked her cane a second time. “Gizmo, be a good lad and make the guest bedroom presentable for Miss Belle’s parents, would you please?” She turned her misty eyes in Rarity’s vague direction. “I hope you don’t mind the couch. This old place isn’t exactly the mayor’s manor.”

As a grumbling Gizmo went to tend to his newfound duty, Rarity smiled and set a hand on Mrs. Scrutiny’s arm. “Compared to the places I’ve had to sleep in the last couple seasons, the couch will feel like Elysium. Thank you very much.”

With audible popping in her withered joints, Mrs. Scrutiny sat herself down at the kitchen table. No sooner was she settled than a frustrated frown decorated her face. “Oh, horseapples, I meant to make tea.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Rarity declared, already opening the cabinets. “I may have been gone for nearly seven years, but I still remember my way around your kitchen.” She went about making the black tea the old mare enjoyed so much. Rarity herself thought it nasty, but she always drank it in the past. She had assumed it wouldn’t be nice to refuse the old mare’s kind offer.

Things were quiet for a while. It wasn’t until Rarity had poured them both a cup – with a third for Gizmo, just in case – that Mrs. Scrutiny spoke again. “What went wrong?”

Halfway sat in the chair opposite her, Rarity paused. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” Mrs. Scrutiny felt out the steam in the air with her hand, then followed it to her cup. She held it up, but didn’t drink. “I was born a lot earlier than yesterday. My little Rarity was always a proud, headstrong thing, but she was a filly of dresses and sewing and culture. Now I learn you’re carrying around a gun, and proficient enough with it to fend off a horde of bandits.” A gentle blowing on the tea to cool it down. “A mare has to question why the pleasant little girl she knew would be hunted by bandits.”

A long, slow sip.

“So what happened? Where is that precious little filly I taught how to sew, who cried if her dress got a little dirty?”

Always with the questions. Rarity didn’t even feel annoyed anymore. Too bad annoyance hadn’t taken misery along with it. “She’s gone, and I don’t know if she’ll ever come back.” Leaning so she could look through the window shutters, she wondered about that old her. “I never reached Manehattan, but the last six years were… decent enough for me, I suppose. The gunfighting and running for my life is a fairly new turn.”

The old mare hummed quietly. “It’s a shame that you came back after these old eyes turned bad. I’d have loved to see the mare you’ve become.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Rarity glanced at her, guilt creeping into her mind to join the sadness. “I’m not all dresses and proper etiquette anymore, Mrs. Scrutiny. I daresay you wouldn’t even recognize me.”

Mrs. Scrutiny snorted, her cup hitting her saucer with a bit of force. “You think I loved having you around because of your dresses and primness? Hah! Filly, you had spunk. Ya might have been polite and generous to an old mare, but it was your guts and go-get-em attitude that made you so special.”

Rarity stared at her. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Well, I do!” The mare slapped her leg before pointing in Rarity’s general direction. “That’s why when you tell me you whipped a bunch of stinkin’ bandits all on your own, I not only believe it, I’m dang proud! You don’t need dresses and a bath to impress this old biddy. I always knew you had the potential to be a royal fireball someday, and it does this withered heart some good to know that faith was justified.”

A warmth filled Rarity at this praise. She realized she was grinning, and did nothing to stop it. “Well, I’m glad somepony out there sees something positive out of all this.” And just like that, the warmth faded. “I certainly don’t.”

Another quiet hum from Mrs. Scrutiny. “That’s alright. I imagine times have been tough for you. But someday you’ll look back on all this and realize it’s not such a bad thing.”

Rarity had no idea how she could ever think that, but made no attempt to argue. Instead, she let the silence linger and focused on watching the back door of her house through the window. Mrs. Scrutiny had a perfect view of their backyard. She could see herself, smaller and more care free, running around in the grass with her little sister toddling after her. There’d been so many days when she’d wandered her way over to this house.

She’d learned how to sew in this very chair. She took a moment to feel the wood of the backrest, eyeing the knots and nails and lumps. The scent of black tea danced in her nostrils, the pale light from the window illuminating a million little motes of dust across the room. Absently, she took the teacup and sipped. The bitter, strong taste was like being struck with a hammer on the tongue, and yet it made her smile for its familiarity.

She’d missed this place. And old Mrs. Scrutiny. And this view and sewing a simple scarf and her parents and Sweetie and—

“It’s okay, Rarity.”

She looked up to find Mrs. Scrutiny smiling at her. It was a warm, welcoming expression. Only now did she realize her hands were trembling. She hurried to set the teacup down. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s okay to feel nostalgic.” The old mare took another, longer sip. “And okay to be afraid. It’s good that you came back, even if it’s only for a little bit.” Her smile quirked up a tiny fraction on one side, becoming a smirk. “And you don’t have to drink that nasty oil if you don’t want to.”

Rarity’s cheeks burned like the sun. “I n-never said…”

“Oh, stop it.” The old mare laughed at her sputtering. “You think I never heard you complaining about my tea? I waited years to hear you finally admit how much you hated it, but you never did.” She sobered quickly, though the smile didn’t fade. “You always were the considerate type.”

She turned her head, leading Rarity to do the same. Gizmo stood in the doorway, looking for all the world like he’d just kicked a puppy and got caught. “Th-the room’s ready.” He fiddled with his glasses, cleaning them against his shirt despite there not being a speck of dirt on them. “I’ll help keep watch now, if that’s alright.”

“That’ll do,” Mrs. Scrutiny replied softly. “And later, we can make some nice tomato soup. My own recipe. You liked that one, right, Rarity?”

“That would be wonderful,” Rarity admitted, her eyes not leaving Gizmo. She was determined to convey her appreciation for his help through her gaze. Whether it worked or not, she couldn’t say. After a moment’s silence, he took a chair and sat so that he could keep an eye on the house with her. He didn’t look at her, but by his fidgeting she suspected it was more to do with guilt than anything.

After so much time passed with no conversation, Mrs. Scrutiny finally spoke up. “So, why don’t you tell us how you went about becoming a gunfighter?”

Rarity heaved a long sigh; she was getting tired of recounting this.





Rarity was midway through the process of cleaning Ruby Heart when Gizmo spoke up. “Your dad just went inside.”

She looked up from the assorted parts lying on the table, taking a glance at the clock as she did. “Of course, this happens when I’m only half-armed.” She examined the pieces – there were always fewer than she expected – and pondered putting the gun back together half-cleaned. Ruby Heart would undoubtedly work just fine that way, but if she stopped now would she remember to finish the job later?

With a heavy sigh, she put the gun back together. It only took a minute, and then only because she still wasn’t accustomed to the task. This was only the third time she’d bothered since first learning in Rockstead. Bullet Harvest had explained that it wasn’t necessary to clean them so often, but Rarity wanted at least one thing in her life to be fastidiously unsoiled. As much as it pained her to admit it, it most certainly wouldn’t be herself.

Gizmo watched her work, fascination and apprehension fighting for control of his expression. “I still can’t get over the fact you know how to do that.”

“I’m a mare of many talents.” The ammo cartridge slid home with a click, and the gun was set in its harness. She stood and looked him up and down. “Go ahead and tell them.”

He flinched, eyeing her house through the window. “Are you sure this is the best idea?”

She found his lack of faith… disturbing. Still, she couldn’t really blame him. As she’d learned in the last few hours, Gizmo was just an accountant. He didn’t know a thing about gunfighting and bandits and the struggle to survive. What he was about to do was simple, and not dangerous at all, but the knowledge of who might be watching had him more than a little on edge.

“I’ll be watching the entire time,” she replied with what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “It’s just a little walk.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say,” he grumbled. Nevertheless, he left the room, and she took up her position by the window. The world had become a rosy red with the sunset, a testament to how long she’d been waiting. Gizmo appeared, jogging through the yard to knock on her parents’ back door. The poor stallion kept fidgeting and adjusting his glasses, and looked her way more than once. Every time he did, she imagined slapping him on the back of the head for giving her away.

At last, her father answered the door. He invited Gizmo in, and the door closed. Now all Rarity could do was wait. It was an uncomfortable quiet that accompanied her, broken only by the soft snores of Mrs. Scrutiny in the nearby bedroom. She kept her eyes on the streets, trying to find any sign of Apple Gang spies, but the few ponies walking through didn’t seem interested in her old home.

It wasn’t long before Gizmo left the house and returned. Rarity frowned upon seeing him alone, but was patient. At her querying gaze, he said, “He wants to wait for your mom to get in. Less suspicious if they come over together, rather than us going back and forth a half-dozen times.”

That appealed to her, so Rarity offered no complaints. She returned to her vigil, half-expecting her mother to show up at any moment. The shadows grew long and the light faded. Gizmo woke his grandmother and began making dinner to her specifications. Rarity paid them little mind, her eyes always focused on her parents’ house. What was taking her mother so long?

At last, just as the soup was about ready, Rarity saw the back door of the house open. Her mother stepped outside first – she must have come home via the front door – followed by her father. The two appeared perfectly nonchalant as they crossed the road and entered the alleyway to Mrs. Scrutiny’s door, carrying a couple large baskets each. Rarity couldn’t help but be pleased by their relaxed manner.

She stayed in the kitchen while Gizmo went to the door. As soon as her mother entered the room, she went to give the elder mare a strong hug. “I was starting to worry about you.”

“Nonsense, I can take care of myself.” Her mother smiled and returned the motion, using her magic to place her baskets in the corner. “I just had to take care of a few things. We are going to be leaving town for a long time, after all.”

That certainly made sense. Rarity should have expected them to want to get their affairs in order, and they’d only had a day to do so. Half, actually. Setting that concern aside, she looked from her mother to her father, allowing hope into her voice. “Is there any news about Sweetie and Coco?”

Her father heaved a heavy sigh. “I’ve got nothing. Well, not nothing, but nothing regarding where they went.” He reached into one of his baskets and pulled out a large, brown sack. “That big gun of yours is a 45, right?”

“Yes?” She accepted the bag, startled by its heft, and took a look inside. She gasped at a vast collection of ammunition boxes. “Papa, where did you get this?”

“Stole them from the factory.” At Rarity’s gaping, he shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve been working at a munitions factory for about five years now. Better pay than owning my old pawn shop. More reliable, too.”

Her mother flicked his ear with a finger playfully, making him flinch. “I think she’s more concerned about the ‘stealing’ part, dear.”

“Oh, right.” He chuckled and rubbed his moustache. “We’re gonna be on the run anyway, right? Hay, might never come back here. Nopony will know where they went, and I’d rather them get to you than to some Apple prick looking to blow my daughter’s head off.”

Rarity groaned as she set the sack down on the table. “By Luna’s Stars, I’m turning my family into criminals.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he countered mildly, sitting himself down on a traveling trunk Gizmo had pulled out of storage to serve as a makeshift chair. “It’s just the one time, and it’s to keep my daughter alive. I think that makes it okay.”

“I don’t.” Yet, as Rarity observed the significant amount of ammunition, she permitted herself to smile. “But I appreciate it anyway. Provided they can’t trace the theft back to you?”

He smirked at her query. “Not a chance. This came from some crates already packed for delivery. The worst that’ll happen is the recipient will think the company’s shortchanged them, and the company’s records will back that up. It’ll mean hell for my boss, but she’s a little witch anyway.”

“Enough yammerin’,” Mrs. Scrutiny snapped as she settled herself down at the table. “There’s tomato soup waiting, prepared by my little chef of a grandson, and it won’t be half as good with you three delayin’ dinner.”

At their host’s command, the three guests prepared to enjoy their meal. Rarity tried to take the opportunity to forget her worries. After all, this may be the last chance she’d get to have dinner with her parents in a long time… if at all. She needed to make the most of it.

Yet no matter what, she couldn’t stop thinking about Sweetie and Coco.





Rarity awoke with a stifled cry, one hand reaching between her tightly clamped legs and the other for Silver Lining. The latter was not where it was supposed to be. Where was it? She never slept without it! The Bad Apples might have—

A gentle voice shushed her and a soft hand brushed her mane back from her face before resting, cool and comforting, on her forehead. Only now did Rarity realize she was still lying on the couch, safe in Mrs. Scrutiny’s modest home. Somehow, her mother had managed to sit there with Rarity’s head in her lap. The middle-aged mare smiled down at her child. “It’s alright, Rarity. It was just a dream.”

Just a dream. A horrible, ugly dream that made her feel so dirty she might never get the stain out. Rarity could still feel the hands of dozens of stallions and mares groping her from all directions. And now, to think of her mother watching her while that atrocity was going through her brain…

Her eyes began to burn and her throat constricted. She turned to bury her face in her mother’s belly, her fingers clenching the mare’s shirt. “I’m s-sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

Her mother continued to stroke her mane, not saying anything for a time. The silence could only be a confirmation of Rarity’s worst fears. Perhaps she should just walk away now and spare her mother the pain of being associated with her. She’d save Sweetie Belle and bring her back, of course, but that would be the end of it. Let them have the younger daughter, the one not sullied by bullets and blood and licentious mares. They could forget all about her, and with her blessing.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Rarity,” her mother whispered in the darkness. “What has this world done to you?”

The words were kind, but Rarity couldn’t help hearing them as an admonishment. She curled up a little, holding her mother all the tighter. She had no words to describe the guilt crushing her lungs. At least here, nestled against the mare who’d raised her, she could have the illusion of forgiveness and safety again.

“I remember the day you left us so vividly,” her mother whispered, her fingers entwining with Rarity’s mane. “Eighteen years old, and already thinking you were the master of the world. I was scared, but I couldn’t say no. I gave you my blessing, because I knew you’d go with or without it. You seemed so confident, so eager to get away. We just didn’t have what you needed, did we?”

Rarity listened through her malaise. Did her mother blame herself for Rarity’s downfall? That wouldn’t do, but she couldn’t conjure up the willpower to raise her head, much less correct the record.

“Your father…” She chuckled faintly. “He was up all night for over a week, pacing ‘round the house and checking outside. Forgot about everything. He was so sure that the instant you realized the journey to Manehattan would be spent without access to a bathtub you’d come crying back to his protective embrace. But me? I knew better.

“You’re a tough mare. I was always proud of that, partially because I felt you got it from me. No inconvenience, major or minor, would keep you from trying.” With a wistful sigh, she hugged Rarity’s head closer to her middle. “Today, my confidence in you was rewarded. You’re not a disappointment. I saw my daughter, Hondo’s little princess, stand her ground and face death. You’re brave, strong, willful and protective. You’re hurting, and you’re scared, but regardless I am still more proud of you now than I have ever been of anything in my life.”

The tears were staining her mother’s shirt. Rarity wanted to apologize, but more important matters were at hand. “How can you say that?” she whispered, still unable to look up from the comforting darkness of her mother’s belly. “I’m m-making you leave home. I’ve killed ponies. Sweetie and Coco are gone because of me, and that… that mare…”

“Hush.” Her mother patted her shoulder, almost like a lecturing slap, but far too gentle to amount to anything. “And you got your father’s frustrating need to take the blame and feel guilty. I do wish I could do something about that, but you always were a daddy’s girl.”

Despite her ongoing misery, Rarity allowed a little smile to curl her lips. “He spoiled me rotten, didn’t he?”

“He did, the fool.” Her mother chuckled once more, relaxing her hold a little. “I don’t love him any less for it, though.”

Rarity felt no inclination to get up from her comfortable position, but she at least allowed herself to shift onto her back and look up at her mother’s sad, yet smiling visage. “Having my mother comfort me after a nightmare. I’m so childish, aren’t I?”

“There’s nothing wrong with needing comfort, or letting the weight of it all hold you down for a little while.” Once more, her mother set her hand on Rarity’s forehead. “What kind of a mother would I be if I got upset with you over it? If anything, I’m glad to be able to do this for you once again. It reminds me of old times.” She leaned back to stare at the ceiling, the soft smile not leaving her face. “Always the strong one, but so sensitive too.”

“I hate having to be strong,” Rarity muttered. She reached up to toy with her mother’s pinkie finger, like she used to do as a child. “If only there was a way, I’d go back in time and make sure I never, ever left. It’s one of the worst decisions I ever made.”

“I wouldn't.” Her mother met her eyes, and her expression filled Rarity with a heartening warmth. “I’ve missed you these seven years, true, but in that time you’ve become far more than the daughter who left her family’s comforting embrace. You’re stronger than ever.” Her smile faded. “Although I do wish that strength hadn’t come from so much pain.”

Rarity considered this for a time. “In truth, six of those seven years weren’t so bad. I had to start from scratch in a new town that was a far cry from Manehattan, but I built myself up into a respectable businessmare within those limitations. Hay, I was downright wealthy. The only thing that kept me there, aside from the rustic charm of the place, was a fear that…” She hesitated, but a prolonged look from her mother pried her lips open. Averting her gaze, she concluded, “I was afraid that you and Papa wouldn’t forgive me for abandoning you like I did.”

“I thought that might be the case.” Her mother stared at the darkened room, her expression wistful. “You were forgiven long ago, Rarity. We were only happy that you were safe.”

Fidgeting, Rarity at last allowed herself to sit up. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she faced her mother properly with head bowed. “Still, I am sorry. I should have done more than just write you a letter every season or two. I was a poor excuse for a daughter… and a sister.”

Her mother studied her, then smiled. “Well, you’re certainly making up for that now, aren’t you? Blazing across the desert like a wild buffalo to protect us. I think you’re well on your way to ‘good daughter’ status.”

Rarity could feel a smirk coming unbidden to her lips. “But not quite there yet, I presume?”

With a scoff, her mother raised her head high and crossed her arms. “Not quite. You’ve still got some things to do.” Her manner softened immediately, concern taking control of her gaze. “Like stay alive. No parents should bury their child. I don’t know what will happen in the future, what with all this excitement, but promise me you’ll do everything in your power to stay safe.” Her eyes lingered on Rarity’s bandaged arm. She sucked in a sharp breath. “Just seeing that is enough to frighten.”

Self-consciously, Rarity rubbed the wound and looked away. “I know. I promise, I won’t go down easy.” She hadn’t yet.

“Good.” The barest hint of a smile returned to her mother’s face. “Your father would be insufferable otherwise.”

Quiet passed between them, interrupted only by the soft snores of Mrs. Scrutiny in her room. As the moment lingered into awkwardness, Rarity peered through the dark at the clock on the wall. It was early morning, perhaps an hour before the sun was to come up. They wouldn’t get much more time for sleeping; come morning, they would wait for any news from her parents’ contacts, and if nothing came by noon her parents would have to go.

Her mother’s whisper interrupted her thoughts. “I know where you need to go next.”

Rarity stared at the mare, not confident in her own hearing. “What was that?”

Hesitantly, she said, “There is a trading town in the west, in the foothills of the Sunpeaks. Bitter Ergot. Coco and Sweetie are being taken to Seaddle through there.”

Frustration. Indignation. Outright anger. All would have been appropriate responses. Instead, Rarity only felt weary and concerned. “Why did you not tell me this right away?”

Her mother didn’t meet her gaze. “Because I knew the instant I did, you’d saddle up and leave, maybe never to return. I needed…” Tears welled in her eyes. “I needed to have a private moment with my daughter. I needed to be your mother one more time. I know it was selfish, but…”

As tears created small rivers down her cheeks, Rarity closed the gap between them and held her mother tight. She couldn’t say she fully understood, but she would not begrudge her mother her actions. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ll deal with it, and I’ll come back with Sweetie and Coco in tow. So please, don’t cry.” Please don’t. It hurts worse than a bullet in the arm.

“I c-can’t help it,” her mother hissed, squeezing Rarity in return. “My little girl is being held hostage by a bunch of bandits, and my elder daughter is about to go galloping off to another hail of bullets, acting like the hero she is. How am I supposed to be okay with that, Rarity? How am I supposed to keep your father together when I’m barely hanging on?”

“I don’t know.” Rarity pressed their foreheads together, fighting back tears of her own. “I wish I knew. But we’ll pull through this, Mother. I promise, this isn’t the last you’ll see of me, and I will bring Sweetie back.”

A sniff. A whimper. Her mother’s grip loosened just a little. “Y-you wouldn’t lie to your mother, would you?”

“Of course not.” Giving her another squeeze, Rarity started to stand. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. You’ll tell Papa I love him, won’t you?”

Sucking down a sob, her mother scrubbed her eyes clean. “He won’t be happy with you. You could wake him.”

It was a tempting thought, and she almost caved to it. She fidgeted, still holding her mother’s hands as she gazed upon the closed guest room door. At last, she replied, “No, let him sleep. It’s hard enough having to walk away from you. I don’t think he’d let me go without a fight, and Sweetie and Coco don’t have the luxury of waiting.”

Despite her flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, her mother chuckled. “Darn, you figured him out. I guess I won’t get to watch the fireworks after all.”

“I want you to leave as soon as possible.” She gave her mother’s hands another squeeze for emphasis. “Go south, across the Great Salt Plains. There’s a town in the eastern foothills of the Dragon’s Teeth, Rockstead. I have friends there, the Pie Sisters, who should be able to provide you room and board until I can meet you there with Sweetie and Coco.” She wasn’t sure if it was okay to impose upon Maud and Marble like that, but she had no other ideas.

“We’ll go,” her mother said. “Even if I have to drag your father kicking and screaming the whole way. Get your sister back, Rarity, and make sure you’re whole and well when you do.”

Rarity couldn’t promise to be ‘whole and well’, but she would get Sweetie back. She leaned forward to kiss her mother’s forehead. With one last squeeze of the fingers, she stepped away. “I’m going. I…” A moment to fidget and glance at the closed guest room door. She distracted herself by gathering her gear. Once fully laden she looked to the couch. Her mother hadn’t moved, only watched her prepare with folded ears and slumped shoulders.

Her heart begged her to stay a little longer, to ease that subtly distraught face. Instead, she whispered a quiet “goodbye” and left the dark house. She fought down the tears in her eyes and the sick feeling in her gut. They wouldn’t help Sweetie or Coco. She had a job to do. She’d feel sorry for herself later.

She just hoped her father would forgive her.
> Episode 17: Reflection
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


49th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


Rarity spread her map out against Cerulean’s warm blue scales, her horn glowing gently as a notepad, pencil, chronometer, and sextant hovered about her head. The sand lizard gave a growl to voice his displeasure, but otherwise offered no reaction. Peering at the map, she traced with her finger the carefully drawn lines depicting her path since leaving Hoofington. The coordinates of last night’s stop were carefully copied to the notepad.

That done, she turned to take in the setting sun. Her hilltop was covered in short, thick grass and trees dotted the rolling landscape. The Sunpeaks weren’t even visible in the distance yet, but she knew it wouldn’t be much longer. Another day or three. She took the sextant in hand and found the horizon in the proper mirror. That done, she adjusted the sextant’s arm until the sun appeared, its blinding brightness made manageable by the silver embedded in the second mirror.

As soon as the horizon and the sun were aligned in the mirrors, she locked the arm and recorded the angle and time on her notepad. That done, she pulled out a thick tome, undoubtedly the most expensive thing she’d acquired for her journey from Mooisville. The thought left a sick feeling in her gut; after helping to pay for her parents’ travelling needs, her funds had shrunk dangerously. But she set the thought aside. She’d started from scratch before, and she wasn’t there yet. She could do it again.

The weighty book opened in her magic, flipping rapidly to the proper page. There she found the pre-determined position of the sun on the current day, written out in ten-minute intervals. Checking her recorded time, she found the nearest value and began calculating, her notepad becoming a neat set of numbers. Within five minutes, she had as close a determination as she could to her current latitude.

That done, she utilized her sextant to keep one eye on the sun while the other watched her chronometer. The pencil and notepad hovered nearby, ready and waiting. Time ticked by, the world quiet in the midst of her patient observation. The instant the solar orb touched the horizon, she jotted down the time and checked her charts. Within seconds she had her longitude.

Now she needed only mark her position on the map. She was supposed to account for her elevation, but with no means to determine that she was forced to accept a slight error. Her spot marked, she drew a perfectly straight line from her reading the day before. She’d travelled a little farther today. At this rate she’d be at Bitter Ergot in a week at most.

Cerulean gave a snort, shaking his body just enough to dislodge her map. Scowling, Rarity turned to see him watching her with a lone eye, disapproval plain in his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I don’t have any other place to set it.”

Making a noise that was half-growl, half-groan, he turned away from her and curled into the grass, clearly preparing for sleep. Rarity rolled her eyes and the map at the same time, carefully putting away her navigational tools. “I don’t understand you. Always so grouchy. Worse than Cranky, I swear to Luna.” If Cerulean had any opinion on her declaration, he didn’t bother to offer it.

Her pack set aside, Rarity poked the feed bag attached to the saddle. “Wouldn’t you prefer to eat before bed? I’d prefer not to have to wait for you to have breakfast in the morning.”

His frills flicked, which only served to convince her that the lizard had understood her meaning. Even so, he made no effort to get up. If anything, she felt as if she were being given the cold shoulder.

“Fine.” She snatched a can of corn from one of the saddlebags and stomped for her bedroll already set out by a small fire. “I should have traded you for a female.”

It’d been almost two weeks since she’d left Hoofington behind. Thirteen days, and they’d been blessedly peaceful. She hadn’t yet given up on the idea that some gang members or hunters could be on her trail, but she didn’t give the idea much thought beyond a constant sense of alertness. Her primary concern was catching up with Sweetie’s and Coco’s foalnappers, and presumably the pair themselves. This might have been easier if she’d had a more cooperative mount.

But Cerulean was having none of that. While he ran fast, he seemed to have grown tired of her habit of riding him for long periods of time. Once he decided it was time to stop, there could be no goading him on. She’d tried prodding, encouraging, pleading, bribing, shouting, everything short of outright violence. Nothing mattered. The instant the sun approached the horizon and the sky began shifting colors, Cerulean slowed to a stop and refused to move on.

Rarity kept the can of corn hovering over the fire in her magic, clenching and unclenching her hands as she thought about how far ahead the Bad Apple Gang must be. Were it up to her, she’d keep going for a couple of days in a row before taking a night’s break. At least that way she could reasonably expect to be gaining on her quarry. But at this pace, the foul fiends may be developing a lead. Had the stupid lizard no idea what was at stake?

Of course he didn’t. He was a lizard. That obvious logic did nothing to cool her temper.

Eventually, she brought the can close. She ripped the lid off with a violent twist of her magic. The corn steamed almost as much as she did. She attacked it with her only spoon with all the viciousness she felt building up inside. It burned her tongue, bringing tears to her eyes, but she didn’t stop or spit it out, instead chewing it slowly. The sting served as an outlet for her frustration, and by her fourth, cooler bite she’d calmed down enough that she could begrudgingly dismiss the desire to shoot her mount.

As she slowly began to relax, she eased her ravenous pace and tried to think more calming thoughts. Her eyes fell upon the corn within her can. Corn. Sweetie used to refuse to eat it. She’d never gave a reason back then. It was simply a foal’s acting out. Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the memory. Back then she’d viewed her kid sister as such a brat. Her mother and father had always been quick to remind her that she’d been far worse at that age.

“I’ll get you back, Sweetie.” She glared at the snoring Cerulean. “With or without his help.”





The forests had become thickets and the tall grass all but disappeared in favor of hardy, short blades of a yellow coloration. The air had grown warmer with Rarity’s gradual southwestern journey, and the landscape appeared more and more unwelcoming. Curiously, Rarity felt this to be a more friendly environment than the soft grasses and cool winds of the Mooisville region. She’d grown so accustomed to the Bowl’s habitat of heat and hills and rocks that she welcomed its gloomy countenance with an odd sense of pleasure.

What she did not welcome was the sight on the hill opposite her own. She experienced an acute case of déjà vu, for the objects were clearly wagons abandoned after some traumatic event. These hadn’t been burned, but the ripped-up canvas and bodies speckling the hillside made it abundantly clear the owners weren’t taking an afternoon break. She considered going around the caravan, but remembered her logic from before: if there were bandits around, they’d either already seen her or moved on.

Wary of yet another ambush, Rarity made sure the safety clasps were off of Silver Lining and Ruby Heart before encouraging Cerulean’s advance. One eye kept the caravan in view while the other constantly swept the surrounding hills. She allowed herself a moment’s distraction to peer at the back of her mount’s head. “If there is somepony out there trying to kill me, can I expect you to run when I need you to?”

A noncommittal grunt was the best she could garner. It would have to do.

They began climbing the hill leading to the three wagons. The afternoon sun shone brightly on their destination, making it clear that no damage had befallen the caravan from this direction. Tilting her hat back, she eyed the first body, a middle-aged earth pony mare who stared at the sky with wide eyes. Her expression spoke of disbelief. Perhaps she had died too quickly for the reality to set in.

She passed by two more bodies, an earth pony and a Dust Devil. No, three; there was a unicorn visible beneath the lizard. From his grime-covered clothes, she suspected he was one of the bandits. Hand on Silver Lining, she guided Cerulean around the first wagon. She discovered one more a little further down the hill, toppled sideways by the steep incline. There was a slumped Thick Scale lizard with half its harness shattered. She suspected it had been killed in the fighting and took the wagon down with it. More bodies littered the hilltop, at least a dozen.

She came to a stop amongst the carnage, her gaze drifting slowly across the scene. She didn’t consider herself an expert in such things, but from the flies and the smell she suspected the battle had happened a day or two ago. Whoever was responsible for this, they’d be long gone. She didn’t permit herself to relax just yet; they could still be in the area. Shining had warned her about bandit parties that staked out ‘territories’ for hunting, and she had her experience with Cayenne to consider.

Her attention shifted to the wagons. Whereas on the other side of the hill they had appeared pristine minus some canvas damage, from here she saw the wood pockmarked with holes. Small gunfire, it would seem, although something substantial had ripped a big gash in the middle of the front wagon. She imagined the faintest shove would send the thing toppling.

The frills on Cerulean’s neck fanned out as his head twisted with unusual speed. Rarity reacted instantly, Silver Lining out and aimed in the direction he was looking. Its barrel pointed at the face of an earth pony directing a rifle at her from within the last wagon.

That she held back said wonders about her capacity of determining threats at high speed, or so she hoped. She peered at the stallion, taking in his wide eyes, bloody clothes, and trembling weapon. With the rifle shaking like that, the only way he’d hit her would be blind luck. Stubble decorated his chin beneath a mouth opened to accommodate his fast, unsteady breaths. If he wasn’t a teenager, then he had been not long ago.

Rarity tried to picture the scene from a third perspective, her astride a tall and imposing Dust Devil, Silver Lining steady and centered upon the poor boy’s skull while he shook like a foal in desperate need of his dam. The comparison was almost sad. If this stallion had been with the bandits, she’d trade meals with Cerulean for a day.

“Easy.” She raised her gun high, never losing eye contact with the young stranger. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

His wild eyes zipped around the sights of his vibrating rifle, undoubtedly seeking threats beyond the hills. “Y-you’re not with them?”

She tilted her head just slightly. “With whom?”

“Them!” He leaned out of the wagon and thrust the rifle at her. “The b-bandits!”

Rarity wondered if she should be worried about how calm she felt. “I am no bandit.”

The colt raised himself higher and leaned a little more forward. He was at greater risk of tumbling out the wagon than he was of shooting her. “How c-can I trust you?”

“I haven’t shot you yet.” Slowly, she put Silver Lining back in its holster and snapped the safety in place. She made no attempt to do the same for Ruby Heart, just in case. “And I’d rather not do so if I can help it. Are you hurt?”

He went cross-eyed at the query. “Hurt?”

She nodded, again with exaggerated slowness. “There’s blood on you.”

His swallow was so hard she could hear it even from twenty feet away. His tiny pupils flashed down and he used one hand to pick at the red on his shirt. His green cheeks gained an extra shade of white. “It’s n-not mine.”

Cerulean snorted. Rarity glanced at him before reaching out to pet the scales between his frills. The lizard shot her a one-eyed look of disdain, but the frills relaxed against his throat. She turned her attention back to the stallion. “What is your name?”

“I’m not telling you, bandit!”

It seemed it would take more drastic measures to make the frightened thing see reason. She couldn’t just leave him out here, he wouldn’t last long on his own. Granted, she might have said the same thing about herself the day she’d been left in his situation.

Now there was an eye-opening idea. Her thoughts drifted to Yearling and her words one quiet night in their tent. Rarity busied herself with climbing off Cerulean, making sure to keep her back turned from the colt as much as possible.

“What are you doing? H-hey, hold still!”

Her boots on firm ground, Rarity carefully considered her next action. The pause had the added benefit of dramatic effect, which she used to its maximum ability when she pulled Ruby Heart from her vest. In a single slow, smooth motion, she turned to face him and pointed the heavy pistol at the colt. He jumped, nearly dropping his rifle in his panic. At last, he had it in both hands once more, but his shaking had only grown worse.

She doubted even luck would have been enough for him to land a hit now. The front of the rifle rolled through the air with his unsteady motions, and his cheeks had lost all their color. She couldn’t tell if she was seeing his lips vibrating or he was praying to the Sisters for deliverance. Possibly both. It was… Well, if she were honest, it was pathetic.

Rarity lowered her gun and shook her head. “Do you have any idea how many times I could have killed you by now?”

“I won’t go down—whoa!” His failed attempt to be aggressive sent him toppling head-over-boots out of the wagon. He landed on his chest, hard and heavy. He stared forward, chin in the dry grass, and allowed himself a moment to recover from the surprise. Then he noticed her approaching and snatched his rifle from the ground beside him. Knees knocking, he stood up and tried to point the rifle at her.

With but a thought, she caught the end of the barrel in her magic and aimed it at the sky. He wrestled with the weapon, easily able to move it around but unable to get the barrel itself to lower. She kept coming, walking at a slow and leisurely pace, Ruby Heart hanging heavy at her side.

The young stallion grew more and more frantic as he fought with his weapon. At last, he resorted to standing on the tips of his boots in a desperate attempt to angle the gun at her from above, but couldn’t pull it off. When she was almost in front of him, he gave up and backed away, the gun swinging wildly from where her aura held it up. She caught it easily, released her levitation spell, and casually dropped the weapon in the dirt.

Back to the wagon, he clenched his eyes tightly closed and balled his hands into fists. He breathed in sharp gasps as tears streamed down his eyes. Rarity watched this for a few quiet seconds and wondered just what he’d seen in the last couple days.

She caressed his cheek with the palm of her hand. At her touch, his eyes opened wide.

“It’s alright,” she whispered, staring into those eyes. “It’s over. You’re safe now.”

He stuttered and mumbled, but at last managed to get some words out. “Y-you’re not going to k-k-kill me?”

Ruby Heart went back to its holster. She smiled for him, the best she could offer despite her heavy heart. “No. I’m going to help you get out of this place.”

He stared at her for a few seconds, for once as still as can be.

Then he fell to his knees and wept, clutching her coat as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. She pressed his forehead to her belly and rubbed his back, remembering a time that seemed so long ago.





They moved on to a nearby thicket, where they could talk without having to see or smell the ruined caravan. Rarity gave the young stallion, who had confessed to being named Flintlock after his breakdown, some bread and had another canned meal for herself. He ate voraciously, confirming her suspicions that he’d been without food for some time. Cerulean dozed near the edge of the trees, basking in the warmth of the sun.

Waiting for him to slow down on his eating, Rarity asked the question that had been bugging her for some time. “So, Flintlock. How’d a pony who can barely keep a rifle pointing straight survive a bandit raid?”

He paused, cheeks bulging from the excessive amounts of bread in his mouth, and stared at her through his grey bangs. His demeanor, momentarily thrilled thanks to having food, became marred by downcast eyes and a drooping posture. He had to swallow several times before he’d emptied his mouth. “I… I was a coward. I couldn’t do anything when they came. Didn’t even grab a gun.”

He stared at the half-loaf he held in both hands, yet he appeared to have lost his appetite. “The bandits knew I was worthless. They mocked me. Insulted me. Didn’t bother to kill me.” He heaved a heavy sigh and turned from her. “I h-hid under one of the wagons and cried. That’s all.”

Silence descended between them, heavy and difficult to pierce. Rarity had thought perhaps he’d be like she was when she’d left home, but no. He was an entirely different personality. Not that she blamed him for that, of course. Some ponies could handle themselves. Others?

Hoping to move on to brighter topics, she asked, “Where were you going?”

He didn’t turn back to her, and his voice was weak, but at least he answered. “Mooisville. The caravan was taking travelers there, ponies who hoped to work in the fields instead of the mines. I joined up when it passed through Bitter Ergot.” He raised his head to stare at nothing. “I j-just wanted out of that town.”

Bitter Ergot? What a curious coincidence. “Why? Is there something wrong with the town?”

“You mean aside from the wells drying up and business collapsing?” He rubbed his mane back and scowled at the sky. “It’s too… small. I wanted something more, something bigger and better! I refused to let myself waste away in that podunk place.”

Rarity pursed her lips at this statement. “And your family?”

He turned on her, venom in his gaze. “Who cares about those old fogeys? All they want me to do is stick around and run the stupid store. It’s a waste of my skills! What if I want to do… something…” His ears folded back and he shrank from her glare. “W-what?”

“Take it from somepony who knows, Flintlock,” she countered, voice cool. “Someday you will think back on what you are saying and feel like a fool. Your parents may be dead tomorrow. Would you even know it?”

He had the good manners to appeared ashamed. Even so, he didn’t back down from words so easily as he did from a gun. “Mom and Dad will be fine. They never needed me before, they certainly don’t need me now.”

“Are you suggesting they don’t love you?”

“I never said that.” He shook his head. “They just don’t understand me. I was gonna write them as soon as I got to Mooisville and started my own smithy.”

Rarity could feel her frown deepen. Anger welled within as she stared him down. “No, you were not. You were going to die from hunger, alone and scared in that wreck of a caravan amongst the dead bodies. Do you have any idea how to even get to Mooisville from here?”

His brow furrowed and he stiffened his shoulders, glaring back at her in defiance. He didn’t respond.

“Could you have made your way back home on your own?”

The tension in his shoulders only grew.

“You had no food, and only a little leftover water. Do you know how to survive off the land? I’m guessing by how you wolfed down my bread that the answer is ‘no.’”

He jumped to his hooves, throwing the bread away violently. Rarity caught it with her magic before it could get very far. “What do you want from me? Look, I appreciate that you helped me out just now, but you don’t know me. I had a run of bad luck, that’s all! All I have to do is get to Mooisville and everything will be fine. This is just a minor setback!”

“A ‘minor setback.’” Rarity chuckled at the phrase. “I had no idea nearly dying was such a simple thing. Clearly, I’ve been looking at my life from the wrong perspective.”

He leaned forward in an attempt to appear looming. “Stop acting all high and mighty! When was the last time you had to worry about bandits trying to kill you?”

Her hand shot out and caught his shirt collar, jerking him forward so that their muzzles nearly touched. Rarity didn’t even remember standing up. She stared into his abruptly wide eyes and felt no anger. Instead, it was like a chill had covered her entire body, and that chill made itself known to him through her voice. “You are speaking to possibly the single most wanted pony in Equestria right now, short of Blackjack Apple or the Countess. Just last week I had to fight off a dozen hunters who were attempting to shoot up my childhood home and murder my parents. I am travelling to your hometown right now because I have reason to believe my sister and close friend are being held hostage by ponies who want me dead.”

Her grip on his shirt tightened. He flinched and whined, but didn’t close his eyes. She narrowed her own as she finished with extra ferocity, “Be careful what you say and to whom, boy. I don’t like killing ponies, much less for saying stupid things, and for that you should consider yourself very lucky. The next drifter you come across may not be so generous.”

She shoved him back roughly and walked away. A glance at the sun revealed that there were still some hours yet before night. She knelt beside Cerulean and scratched under his frills, earning a begrudging trill of appreciation from the creature. “Come, Cerulean. We have a ways to go yet.”

To her relief, the Dust Devil didn’t cause a fuss but instead climbed to its feet with a grunt. Rarity reached into the bag and got some feed in the palm of her hand, letting him eat from it directly.

Flintlock spoke up. “You’re not going to leave me out here?”

“I’m going to Bitter Ergot. My sister and friend are supposedly being brought through there.” She turned to observe him, keeping her voice cool. “You either come with me to the town or make your own way. I won’t be distracted from protecting my family because of one self-righteous child.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“And I’m leaving.” She clapped her hands free of feed crumbs, picked up her enchanted backpack, and approached Cerulean’s saddle. “It’s up to you if you want to join me. Decide soon, boy, because I’m not waiting.”

Climbing back into the saddle, Rarity turned the lizard southwest and gave a light crack of the reins. A glance out the corner of her eye found Flintlock shaking with visible frustration and indecision. Smiling out the corner of her lip, she brought Cerulean to a trot and didn’t look back.

She was just leaving the treeline when Flintlock’s cry reached her ears. “Wait! Wait for me!”





There came with having an extra rider one more problem that Rarity had failed to account for: the closeness of Flintlock. Just the idea of having a stallion so near to her made her jumpy, and she had to bite her tongue more than once. She had considered letting him ride up front, which would be a good way to let her maintain control of him. But if others saw that, would they assume he was in charge? Might it go to his head?

But if she rode in front, Flintlock would have to put his hands on her for the sake of keeping steady. The saddle was only made for one, after all, and it wasn’t even sized to her. She couldn’t blame him for the necessity, but after the way she’d struck her mother purely by instinct, she didn’t trust herself not to put a bullet in the colt’s head when he would inevitably be forced to grab hold or fall off.

And he would.

But walking was out, for what was the point of having a Dust Devil if not for the speed?

In the end, Rarity’s nightmares and the ghost hands between her legs won out, and she gave the reins to a visibly nervous Flintlock. She didn’t explain why, but he noticed when she undid the safety strap on Silver Lining before letting him climb up. If there was any question of who was in charge, that alone seemed to settle it.

It worked… decently. Rarity tried to keep some distance between herself and her new companion, but that amounted to little. The sheer proximity of him had her itching to grab a weapon. Instead she kept one hand on his waist and another on her necklace. She noticed that it had regained some of its color since last she’d checked. Why that was so satisfying, she couldn’t say, but she was immensely grateful for how it calmed her nerves with this colt pressed against her front.

To ease both their minds, she started up some casual conversation to learn more about Flintlock. As expected, he’d been born and raised in Bitter Ergot. The town, though small, was a major stopping point for caravans and traders going to and from the Sunpeaks into the rest of Equestria. This was because it sat at the entrance to one of the three major passages into the rough and mountainous country to the west, and was the most direct for approaching Dodge Junction.

Flintlock’s parents ran one of three local grocers. According to him, they only wanted him to help run the shop, taking it over as he grew older. Rarity doubted this, especially when he informed her that his special talent involved gunsmithing, especially with rifles. What parents would demand their child live a life not based upon his special talent? When she pointed this out, however, Flintlock just scoffed and claimed they cared more about that “dumb shop” than destiny or his happiness. She elected not to argue the matter. They’d get there in time, and she’d learn for certain then.

“What about you?” he asked, finally sounding casual after more than an hour of fidgeting and flinching at her touch. “Where are you from?”

Such a straightforward question should have a straightforward answer. Yet Rarity hesitated. “I… I suppose that depends.”

Flintlock shifted to glance over his shoulder at her. “How can it depend? You were born somewhere, weren’t you?”

She averted her gaze and, by accident, ended up looking at the sun and moon sigil on her wrist. She stared at it, wondering how the Sisters would have preferred she answer. Perhaps the direct response would have been easiest, but Rarity didn’t feel as though it was right. She silently asked Celestia and Luna for guidance before giving her answer. “It depends on which me you are speaking of.”

“Uh-huh.” He turned forward once more. “So how many of you are there?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

“Two,” she answered. No anger or hurt filled her at his tone. At best, she felt numb. “If you were to ask where Rarity Belle was born, you’d have to look to Mooisville, at a loving but poor family that didn’t understand her adoration of fashion and high society. A family she left behind because she knew better than them and was ready to prove it in the urban sprawl of Manehattan.”

His ears had perked. It was a while before he answered, and he did so in a quiet, thoughtful tone. “That sounds familiar. A little. And where was the other you born?”

“The other me.” She stared at the setting sun, an old weight made freshly heavy in her chest. She touched her necklace and took a long, deep breath. “The other me came into being in a tiny town called Spurhoof, located near nowhere and just past nothing. There a young mare, successful in career if not in life, came face-to-face with a devil who tried to take her innocence away. In the physical aspect, he failed. In the mental, he succeeded beyond his wildest imaginations. And now she roams Equestria, hunted and pursued to every corner, surviving only by her wits and her unexpected skill with guns.” She let her cheek rest on his back, for suddenly she felt so weary. “And every day, she regrets that she ever left her old home for some arrogant, childish fantasy that would never come true.”

Silence passed between them. The sun continued its steady descent. Cerulean was beginning to slow, right on time.

Subdued, Flintlock asked, “So does that other you have a name?”

Rarity wasn’t sure why, but she smiled at the question. “Of course. Ponies today call her the Bulletproof Heart.”

Flintlock stiffened. She sat up to watch, a small smile on her lips, as he slowly turned to stare at her over his shoulder. If his eyes got any bigger they might roll out of his head. Even in the fading light of day, the blood rushing from his cheeks was obvious. “Y-you’re the Bulletproof Heart?”

Her smile broadened just a touch. “You mean you hadn’t figured that out yet?”

“How was I supposed to figure that out?” He finally noticed Cerulean coming to a stop. He cracked the reins a couple times, to no avail. “I don’t understand why you’d even tell me that. Aren’t you, like, trying to keep a low profile?”

“I have been trying to, yes.” She climbed off the Dust Devil just as it settled to the ground, the dry grass crunching beneath her boots. “Are you suggesting I can’t trust you?”

“I’m not telling. I’m not telling anypony!” With a too-loud giggle, he cracked the reins a few more times. “W-why isn’t he moving?”

His anxiety almost made her laugh, but she settled for a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “Trying to escape, are we?”

“No!” He paused, then ran his hand over his face with a groan. “I said that way too fast.”

“Why are you so scared?” Ignoring his gaping, Rarity used her magic to carefully lift up Cerulean’s feed bag. She set it before the lizard, who gave her a wary look before he began to eat. “It’s not like I’m a bandit. Or is that what the rumors are saying about me now?” She silently added that if she wanted him dead, she’d have just left him behind. No point saying so out loud, it would only scare the boy more than he already was. She did feel a little guilty about that.

Flintlock didn’t answer for a time, instead watching her with clear uncertainty while she got the tent and other materials out. That done, she grabbed her sextant and other navigational tools and began taking readings.

At last, the young stallion climbed off the lizard. He approached hesitantly, eyes on her tools. “What are you doing?”

“Determining where we are,” she replied patiently, marking the angle of the sun on her notepad. “I want to be sure we’ve been headed in the right direction, and that I’m making good time.” At a snort from Cerulean, she shot the sand lizard a scowl. “Or as good as I can with a beast that refuses to listen to me.”

Flintlock looked from her to Cerulean and back. He scratched the back of his head. “Why wouldn’t he listen to you?”

“I don’t know, but it’s driving me crazy,” she grumbled, checking her reference book for longitude. “Maybe because I shot his previous owner in the head and stole him.”

After some choking and sputtering, Flintlock managed to fire out a “What?”

The information acquired, Rarity marked their position on her map and drew a line to connect the dots. Her frown deepened upon seeing how much smaller the new line was to the last one. She wrung the pencil in both hands, imagining it as Cerulean’s neck. “It was them or me. Forgive me if I have little interest in dying any time soon.”

Out the corner of her eye, she watched as Flintlock took a step back. “You really are a bandit, aren’t you?”

She whirled on him, pencil snapping in two. “No, I am a mare being chased by a bunch of jerks who want to kill her for the Celestia-damned crime of defending her dignity! The instant the Bad Apples stop chasing my tail and let me settle down is the instant they stop dying!”

Flintlock was caught so off guard he ended up falling to the ground. He held an arm up as if to ward off a blow and looked at her with wide-eyed fright. His reaction did little to calm Rarity’s temper. She began putting away her tools, muttering curses under her breath. How many times was she going to have to explain this before ponies would start to understand her position? Why did everypony’s view of her have to be so blatantly wrong?

“I, uh…”

She shot a less-than-friendly glance at Flintlock, who flinched. When he said nothing, she sighed and pointed to the folded tent on the ground between them. “Do you know how to set up one of those?” His blank expression was rewarded with a second, longer sigh. “Of course. Well, come on, let me at least teach you something.”

And teach, she did. She got him to help her make her own tent, then let him borrow her spare under the condition that he try to set it up himself. He was a little clumsy, but she only had to intervene for him once. She then taught him how to build a fire with the very limited resources at hand, making sure to stick to non-magical means since she was instructing an earth pony and not using her Everflame Log – another expensive purchase that she was nonetheless glad to have. She even set up a simple cookpot to heat up their canned stew for dinner. By the time they had settled on either side of the fire to let the food heat up Flintlock had finally stopped twitching at her every motion, and she gained a sense of fulfillment having passed on a little knowledge. At the very least, he now had something to help him survive should he try leaving home a second time.

In the flickering light of the flame, Flintlock’s green face seemed almost ghostly. “Can I ask you a question, Miss Belle?”

She braced herself before nodding. She was sure it would be any of the typical questions: ‘did you really perform this or that task’, ‘why do you hate the Apples so much’, or perhaps ‘where did you get those fancy guns’? He stirred the pot quietly for a moment, watching the mixture of vegetables spin.

“Do you really regret leaving your home?”

Should she feel relief? It seemed appropriate considering her expectations. Yet all she felt was a familiar vice squeezing her chest. She sat back and studied the stars, wondering if she hadn’t perhaps misjudged this colt’s character. “If I hadn’t left home, I doubt I’d be a drifter today. Yes, I most certainly regret my actions.”

His ears folded back. “But it wasn’t all bad… was it?”

Their eyes met, and in his Rarity saw a complex mix of emotions. Hope was chief among them, but not insubstantial was a silent plea, a need for her to not crush his intentions with the bitter weight of her reality. Yet Rarity found that, with a moment of self-reflection, reality might not be so crushing as she thought.

“No,” she replied with a smile that was probably weaker than she intended. “No, it wasn’t all bad.”

Returning her gaze to the stars, she prepared to explain things she’d not visited directly in many, many years. It wasn’t so hard, especially compared to those things she’d dealt with recently. “I left home for the first time when I was just a year older than you. I’d saved up for seven years, all for the sake of paying for a trip to Manehattan. I thought I would apprentice under some elite clothier, graduate by the time I was twenty, and move on to be Equestria’s premier fashion icon.”

Had she ever been so fanciful in her imaginings? Yes, she knew it to be true, but it seemed so far removed from where she was now. She wasn’t very old at all, yet that eager young filly with her posh attitude seemed like a distant memory of another pony entirely.

In the lull of her story, Flintlock leaned closer. “So what happened?”

“The same thing that happened to you.” She looked him in the eye, her words coming slow and patient. “The trade caravan I booked passage on was attacked by bandits only a couple weeks out of Hoofington.” At his questioning look she added, “I had to take a longer route rather than directly into the Eerie Cliffs. It was what I could afford, even with my savings.”

She waved her hand at the darkness around them. “The bandits came at night. Killed half the traders, took the rest… somewhere. I never found out. I only escaped because I happened to be away from the caravan handling ‘mare business.’” This only earned her a look even more muddled than before, and she rolled her eyes. “I was using the bathroom.”

“Oh, r-right.” He averted his eyes with a blush. After a few seconds of silence, which she assumed must have been awkward for him – and she felt content to let him stew in it – he asked, “So did some drifter save you too?”

“If only.” Rarity shook her head. “I was alone among the bodies. I didn’t leave my little hiding place for almost a full day, and it was hunger that drove me out. There’s no need to describe what that was like, I’m sure you can relate.” Even as she said it, though, she recalled the miserable feeling of scrounging through wreckage in search of something to eat. She even remembered the one and only thing she found: a half-eaten sandwich. It had still been in the cold hand of one of the wagon drivers, covered in grit and dirt.

Out of all the things Rarity had dealt with, eating that sandwich had easily been the lowest point in her life up until Braeburn.

Noticing his concerned gaze, she brushed her mane back and pressed on. “Once the reality of my situation settled in, I understood that the only pony who was going to get me out of there was myself. I had overheard the others say there was a farming community nearby, so I grabbed what I could and went into the wilds alone. I had maybe two days of water, no food, my clothes weren’t exactly made for wilderness exploration, and the best I had in terms of direction was ‘that way.’”

Flintlock paid rapt attention, his eyes shining in the light of the flames. “But you made it. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

She gave a dry, bitter chuckle at his words. “Don’t get ahead of the story, boy. I ended up walking for four days.” She stared into the fire, chin resting heavy on her palm. “Four days. It felt like an eternity. I was dirty, hungry, thirsty, not to mention freezing at night and burning up in the day. I ended up shredding the dress I’d made special for the journey and using the skirts as a hood to protect me from the sun.” She raised her arm to gaze at the sigil of the sun and moon on her wrist. “I was praying to the Sisters, sure I was seeing my last days.

“Then, on the morning of the fifth day, I saw it: Spurhoof. I’d almost walked right past it in the night.” A smile came to her when she remembered that first moment of discovery. To a teenage filly on the edge of death, it had been like stepping into Elysium itself. “A local deputy noticed me stumbling my way to the place. He came to me on his sand lizard. I don’t recall when I fainted, I was delirious by that time regardless.”

So long ago, and yet such a fresh memory. She closed her eyes and tried to recall the moment when she’d regained real awareness. It was to the sight of Cranky working at a desk in his living room, his long ears folded back and his suspenders dangling at his sides. “They say I was in and out of consciousness for three days before I really woke up. It took another two weeks for me to fully recover, partially because I’d caught a terrible fever while out there. By all accounts I should have died.”

Her first near-death experience. At that time, she’d swore to avoid them as much as possible. She studied Marble’s gift, wondering about how many times she’d evaded death in recent months. Were the Sisters watching out for her? Unpleasantly, she wondered if maybe Discord was tormenting her instead. Yet if that was true, why take the six-year hiatus? Perhaps that was just selfish thinking. It wasn’t like Discord would focus all his attention on her. Then again, the idea that the Sisters had been constantly watching out for her all this time seemed no less vain.

“You know,” Flintlock said, shuffling where he sat in the grass. “I appreciate what you went through and all, but I thought you said there was a positive part.”

“Oh. Right.” Rarity shook the cobwebs from her mind. “I’m sorry, I’d forgotten the entire reason I’d started talking.”

“It’s okay,” he hurried to reply. “I’m just a little confused, that’s all.”

“And that would make sense.” She smiled, and this time she meant it. “What I was going for was something along the lines of ‘it tends to get worse before it gets better,’ but I guess I got too deeply into the start.” Taking the spoon in her magic, she stirred the stew. It had begun bubbling, which was all she needed to see to know it was ready. As she began pouring each of them half of the contents, she continued her story.

“Once I recovered, I found I lacked the funds to get back to Mooisville. More than that, I’d lost all motivation. I felt like a stupid little girl who’d tried to make her mark on the world without any consideration for what would be required of me. How could I face my parents like that, much less Manehattan? So, I stayed in that little town. After a few months I realized that my skills filled a particular niche in Spurhoof’s list of needs, and so I started my own clothier.” Her smile broadened at the memories of a life so recent. “In six years, I’d become the town’s wealthiest citizen. Business came easy to me.”

Flintlock, appearing relieved and relaxed, blew on his bowl of stew a few times before replying. “So you didn’t get to Manehattan, but you still lived your dream?”

The query made her erupt into a fit of giggles. His smile wavered, but she couldn’t help it. His assumption was so presumptuous! He really did have a lot of optimism, didn’t he? It reminded her so much of the young mare she used to be. At last she managed to recover enough to say, “My dream was to rub elbows with fashion models and agricultural barons in the high rises of Manehattan, dining on fresh fruit when I felt like being rustic and regularly hosting soirees with the biggest names in Equestrian business. So no, I wasn’t even close to achieving my dream.”

He frowned at his bowl, ears folding flat against his skull. “Well…” A pause. Some grumbling. A quick sip of his stew, right from the bowl, followed by a curse as it scalded his lip. He set the bowl down and gave himself a moment to rub at his tender burn. At last, he met her eyes and asked, “But you could get there. Eventually.”

Could she? Rarity wasn’t sure that was even possible anymore, not with the Apples on her tail day and night. But more importantly… “I don’t want to.”

His fingers paused in their rubbing of his burn, leaving him in the silly state of having his puffy lip pulled down to show is lower teeth while he stared at her. “Shay wut?”

There was a time when she might have been annoyed or even offended by his manner. Now, she could only take it in with a mild sense of amusement. And maybe disdain. Just a little. By Elysium, what is this life doing to me? “I said I don’t want to. It was a childhood dream. I found something far better.”

Releasing his lip, he studied her warily. “Like what?”

“Satisfaction in a job well done.” She rolled the bowl in her hands, letting her stew swirl within as she watched the steam rise. “I wasn’t entirely happy in Spurhoof, but only because I still didn’t know how to face my parents. I found everything else I needed. Good friends, a successful business built by my own horn and hands, and a comfortable living. It doesn’t matter if I never see Manehattan, I could have been happy with the life those six years gave me.” She raised her bowl to him as though offering a toast, then began to eat.

They sat in silence for a time, Rarity thoroughly enjoying her soup and Flintlock with a contemplative, sad expression. She let him think, wondering if he’d ask more questions or choose to sleep on it. Her own thoughts drifted towards her parents, who proved far more understanding than she’d expected, and Spurhoof, which she found she missed dearly. She wondered about Cranky, and the Squash Family, and kindly Mr. Gold. Coco, so eager to impress, and dear Piecazzo, so happy to give her a nuzzle whenever they crossed paths. A far better creature than the one currently snoozing with his body curled… around Flintlock’s tent?

She stared at the blue lizard, wondering when he’d moved to that position and why. The tip of his frilled tail sat just before the flap and his long muzzle poked out from behind the opposite side of the tent. Somehow he’d managed to lie there without disturbing the tent itself, or at least it seemed so.

“What is he doing?” Flintlock, now following her gaze, narrowed his eyes in apparent frustration. “That’s just great. Now I’m gonna step on his tail or something and get my head bit off.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Rarity countered smartly. “Maybe he just likes you and wants to protect you.”

He turned his furrowed brow her way. “He do that for you?”

“He doesn’t like me,” she groused, turning her focus back to her half-eaten stew. “Who knows? Maybe it’s because I’m a girl.”

“M-maybe we should trade tents?”

“Oh, no.” She smirked at him and pointed with a thumb at the lizard. “If he does like you, it’ll be safer for you to stay in that one. I already know he’ll maul me.” She didn’t really think Cerulean would go that far, but just in case. “If there’s a chance he likes you, you’re better off in that one.”

By now Flintlock looked worried, his eyes darting between her and the lizard. “We don’t know he likes me! H-he hardly even acknowledged me the entire time we were riding together.”

“Then he’s already friendlier with you than he is with me.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but she was having too much fun teasing him to admit it. Rarity waved her spoon at the tent, smiling all the while. “Don’t worry, if he gives you any trouble I’ll be just one tent over.”

“That’s one tent too far away!” He ducked, covering his mouth and looking at the shifting Cerulean. When the Dust Devil didn’t get up, he continued in a much quieter voice, “Listen, I snore. What if I wake him up?” When she only shrugged, he gained a fresh scowl. “Why do you keep him if the two of you don’t get along?”

“Because I’m running low on funds,” she confessed, “and I need a sand lizard, preferably a Dust Devil, if I’m going to catch up to the jerks who foalnapped my sister and friend.”

“I thought you said you were wealthy?”

“Were, that’s precisely right.” Now it was her turn to scowl. “Let’s not forget that I’ve been running all over Equestria earning no bits while having to buy supplies for my survival. And just a few days ago I paid to buy my parents sand lizards to haul their things and passage to the Dragon’s Teeth. I’m not broke yet, but if I don’t find a means of income soon survival will get a lot harder.”

Struck by the reality of that statement, she felt at Silver Lining’s handle, running her thumb along that now-familiar nub. She would never become a bandit, but there may come a time soon when she’d have to find a means of earning money. Would she have to live like Shining Armor, selling her combat skills for survival? The thought was like an iron weight settling on her shoulders. Surely she could make an income in some other way. Perhaps odd jobs making clothes. Everypony needed a good tailor now and then.

No longer in a conversational mood, she dumped the dregs of her stew in the fire and stood. “When you’re done, there’s some washing water in Cerulean’s bags, right side near his shoulder. Do clean the bowl before putting it away.”

He turned to watch her walk towards the lizard. “Where are you going?”

“To bed,” she replied. “I’ve run too many nights without sleep to not take advantage of it when I can.” She followed her own advice and poured a little water from a canteen into her bowl and wiped it with a small rag. Cerulean grumbled and shifted, but otherwise ignored her.

“I can keep watch.”

Bowl put away, she looked out on the horizon and considered their situation. Now that he mentioned it, a watch was probably a good idea. They had no way of knowing if the bandits who’d attacked his caravan were nearby. “Very well. When the moon reaches its zenith, wake me up and I’ll take second watch.”

Flintlock appeared to hesitate. Perhaps he’d not expected her to agree. That, or he was just using the watch as an excuse to not get near Cerulean. But the moment’s pause ended with a sloppy salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

She tittered, smiled for him, entered her tent… then promptly checked Silver Lining and Ruby Heart. No matter how young and naïve he might appear, Rarity wasn’t about to trust some colt she’d met only a few hours ago. She’d sleep, but she’d take precautions before she did so. After confirming that her weapons were fully loaded, she turned her attention to the tent flap. How best to protect herself from overeager boys with potentially grabby hands?

She filtered through the assorted magical types. Green would be useless. Red risked hurting the colt or herself, and she didn’t want to do that if he was just trying to wake her up. She didn’t trust herself to use Violet magic. Yellow had potential, but she doubted she had the skill necessary to make something that would last all night. Orange? No, she might end up turning his vocal chords into reeds or something.

That left Blue and Indigo. At least she was well versed in those. But what to make? She stared at the tent flap for a while, pondering the possibilities. Her eye drifted to her sleeping roll, and an idea came to her. Not exactly simple, but if it worked it would keep whoever stepped into the tent at bay for a moment or two while simultaneously waking her up.





Rarity didn’t get the chance to see if her new enchantment worked. Instead, she woke up entirely on her own. A glance at the tent flap revealed sunlight passing through the cracks, along with no evidence of tampering. What time was it? Why hadn’t Flintlock woken her for her watch?

A subtle sense of alarm coursed through her as the possibilities made themselves known. Her new companion may have been attacked in the night. That didn’t make sense at first, unless he was being specifically targeted and the attackers didn’t care about her. A possibility, but not one she considered likely.

Perhaps Cerulean had taken offense to him in some way. That one had the added benefit that maybe – just maybe – the frustrating creature could have choked on its last meal. Rarity wasn’t one to wish ill on most other living creatures, but she might just be willing to make an exception for her less-than-friendly sand lizard. Of course, if it did choke on Flintlock, that would mean the colt himself was injured, and she certainly didn’t want that on her already strained conscience. The entire scenario was conjured up for the sake of easing her nerves anyway.

With said nerves relieved, Rarity sat up and checked herself. A little disheveled from sleeping, but nothing else. Even her enchantment remained intact, a discovery for which she felt great pride. Perhaps she would put it down every night she slept in a tent from here on in. But if nothing had disturbed her in the night… what had happened to Flintlock?

Dispelling her enchantment, Rarity undid the safety strap on Silver Lining and, bracing for the bright light of morning, stepped outside. Celestia’s almighty sun attempted to strike her down, or at least blind, but Rarity had enough experience with this daily battle to not flinch at its assault. Instead she adjusted her hat appropriately, stood tall, and cast her gradually adjusting gaze around the camp for any sign of her companion.

It took mere seconds. Flintlock lay on his back by the now-extinguished fire, snoring away. Cerulean sat over the colt, his massive forelegs on either side of Flintlock’s head, staring down at him. Noting her presence, the sand lizard looked to her, then back at the slumbering Flintlock. The expression on his face could only be called monumental disdain and disappointment. For once, Rarity could relate to his perspective.

In truth, she probably should have been furious. Somehow the requisite anger never arose, despite the fact that the fool had just put the both of them in potentially mortal peril by shirking the one duty she’d entrusted to him. With this in mind, she walked over to Cerulean’s feed bag, still half-full where she’d left it for him yesterday, and lifted it in both hands. She then proceeded to walk over and drop the full weight of the thing from shoulder height on Flintlock’s exposed stomach.

His eyes bulged as the air left him in one quick burst. His gaze was met by Cerulean, who was still peering at him with his snout not a foot overhead. He tried to scramble away, but the sand lizard set a claw on his shoulder – effectively pinning him – and buried his head into the feed bag.

Watching this, Rarity almost felt guilty for him. Almost. There was too much cool annoyance simmering in her to let it get out. She knelt next to the wheezing Flintlock, who stared up at her with pleading eyes. “You and I could both be dead right now, boy. It seems you’ve got a very long way to go if you want to survive out here. The best place for you to be is back at home, in your parents’ little store. You can try again when you’ve grown some brains in that head of yours.” She tapped a finger against his forehead. “Assuming you even can.”

Ignoring his gasping attempts at speech, she stood and stretched. “I expect you to tie Cerulean’s bag back up when he’s done eating. Spill it and I’ll leave you here to walk home.” That said, she left him to start putting away the camp. She couldn’t resist a ghost of a smile.





“I’m sorry.”

Pausing in her work setting the feed bag back on Cerulean’s saddle, Rarity tried to channel her lingering annoyance into her one-eyed stare at Flintlock. He appeared appropriately cowed, so she relaxed her expression. A little. “You’ve already apologized a dozen times. One more won’t mean anything.”

“I meant to wake you, really.” He rubbed his palms together as she eyed him. “I just—”

She noted the long cuts in his shirt and gestured. “Come here.” He jumped to obey, even if his face went a little pale at her scrutiny. She tugged his shirt slightly to get a better look at the cuts produced by the lizard’s claws when it had pinned him, nodded, and began digging through one of Cerulean’s saddlebags.

Looking more than a little uncertain, Flintlock tried again. “I know you’re upset. I screwed up. But I thought if I woke you you’d make me go into that tent, and with Cerulean curled around it like a… a…” He grumbled, brow furrowing in thought. “Like a cat? I guess. Look, he scares the cutie mark off me, alright?”

After digging through some spare cloth, Rarity finally produced her prize of needle and thread, the same she’d been using to keep her own clothes wearable. “Did it never occur to you that perhaps he was trying to protect you?” She grabbed his shirt and tugged him a little closer, then began sewing the holes back together.

“Protect me?” Flintlock glanced at their scaled steed, who sat nearby watching the southern horizon. “But why would he do that?”

“Hold still unless you want this needle in your chest.” She worked quickly, with the ease of a lifetime of practice. Within seconds she had the first hole sealed. “Cerulean has seen me handle myself in a fight. Perhaps he thinks you’re untested.”

“Really?”

She shrugged, a flash of Red magic slicing the thread before she deftly tied a small knot in it. “I can’t claim to know his mind. He’s rather cantankerous.”

Flintlock opened his mouth to respond, but hesitated. His eyes went to her quick hands. Perhaps he’d only just realized how close she was, for his cheeks abruptly rivaled the sunrise for rosiness and he let out a long, slow exhale. “W-why are you fixing my shirt?”

“Because I’m not showing up in town with a boy who looks like he can’t even tend to his own clothes. A lady must have standards.”

“Uh, okay?” His fingers on both hands wriggled about, as if he were trying to expend nervous energy. “I mean, Mom usually took care of this. I m-mean, separately? When I wasn’t wearing the shirt?”

“If you don’t get your mind out of the gutter I’ll poke you on purpose.”

“It’s not in the gutter,” he answered a little too quickly. “I’m j-just not used to a mare being this close, th-that’s all.”

She met his gaze, observed his wide eyes and burning face. With her magic, she raised the needle so it was aimed straight up and hovering between his eyes. “I’m helping you a little, Flintlock. No more. I understand you might find me fetching—”

“Try knock-out gorgeous.”

The needle swiveled to point at his eye, which promptly went wide. “Watch it. I’ve had more than my fair share of ponies looking to do things to me whether I like it or not, and I am no longer tolerant of even accidental gestures. You so much as brush a hand against me without meaning to and I will geld you by gunshot if you are lucky. Understood?”

Back stiff and ears folded, he gave the faintest hint of a nod, eyes not leaving the needle. “Clear as crystal.”

“Good, then we have nothing to worry about.” She went back to fixing the last hole in his shirt as if she’d not just threatened to turn him into a eunuch. “Don’t worry about Cerulean. If anything, I think he might like you more than he does me… which wouldn’t mean much, come to think of it.”

“R-right.” Flintlock didn’t so much as flinch, staring straight ahead and breathing slow, cautious breaths.

“Relax, Darling. I need you to hold still, not be catatonic.”

“Right.” He lost none of his tension. Rarity didn’t know how she managed to avoid smirking, but avoid it she did.

Once the last hole was sewn shut, she began replacing her needle and thread. “Alright, it’s time to go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover if I am to make up for lost time.” A moment’s pause. She raised an eyebrow when he didn’t move. “Well? It’ll be a lot easier for me to get on behind you once you’ve gotten on first, don’t you agree?”

“Right.” He shook himself as if coming out of a trance. Eyeing her warily the entire time, he climbed onto Cerulean’s back. He started to offer her a hand, froze, retracted it. He went tense all over again when she climbed onto the lizard behind him. “Hey, uh… Y-you’ll warn me if I’m at risk of doing something you don’t like, yeah?”

This time she did smile, but only when sure he couldn’t see it. “When the guns come out, that’s your warning.”

“…right.” He took a deep breath before cracking the reins lightly. Cerulean started at a brisk pace, and the three headed southwest once more.

Time passed slowly. They rode up and down hills, through thin thickets, and watched as the flora gradually became less and less green. Two hours later, the trees were gone entirely, and the land was dominated by boulders and dry grasses. At long last, the Sunpeaks made themselves known on the horizon. If Rarity’s calculations were correct, they’d be at Bitter Ergot in under a week. Not that this pleased her; they could have cut that time down by three days if Cerulean would just travel at night.

It didn’t help that guilt had begun to form over her earlier behavior, in spite of her feeling perfectly justified in it at the time. Yet now, a few hours into their day’s journey, Flintlock was still acting as if the slightest motion might set her off. Even if she acknowledged not trusting him quite yet, she didn’t feel any reason for him to be so constantly unnerved. It had to be tiring, not to mention having a terrible effect on one’s morale.

At last she could take his constant stiffness no longer. “Flintlock?”

His ears shot up, but he didn’t look back. “Y-yes, ma’am?”

She rested her hands on his shoulders and tilted sideways just a little, but couldn’t see his face. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning. I understand I’ve put a lot of undue stress on you, and it may have been… premature.”

His shoulders actually gained more tension. “I don’t understand.”

She sighed and leaned back to stare at the southern horizon. Nothing but hills and blue skies as far as the eye could see. “I just want you to know… you don’t really have to be so nervous around me. A lot of bad things have been happening lately, and it’s been making me a touch vicious as of late.”

At last, Flintlock turned his head to acknowledge her. His motions were hesitant, yet his eyes spoke of concern. “Did you mean what you said earlier? About ponies trying to do… things to you?”

The question brought a chill down her spine. She had to resist the urge to touch Silver Lining. Instead, she rubbed a hand along her necklace. “Yes. I meant it. I’m out here because of that kind of thing. I had to kill my first pony because of it. And I apologize for lashing out earlier, but I am very touchy about the subject.”

He said nothing for a while, and she contented herself with watching the hills roll past. Or she would have if fresh memories weren’t parading around the back of her mind. What did a mare have to do to forget about groping hands and the friendly words of a snake with a glass of cider? At least the nightmares were less frequent now.

“Miss Belle?”

She blinked, bringing her focus back to the present. “Yes?”

“Do you know how long it will be before we get to town?”

What a strange question to ask given the recent conversation. Unless she’d been out of it for longer than she’d thought. “Five days, maybe six. Why?”

“I know you think I’m not ready to make my way out here, and you’re right. I made some mistakes. In a perfect world, I should be able to get to Mooisville or wherever on a caravan and not have to worry about wilderness survival.” He reached up to scratch at the back of his head, leaning forward a little as he did. “We don’t live in a perfect world. I get that now. So… Five or six days is a long ways off.”

He turned around almost fully in his saddle to meet her gaze. His tone pleading to match his eyes, he asked, “Do you think you could teach me? I still want to go, and I intend to try again. But I’d feel much better about it if somepony who knew what she was doing gave me a few lessons.”

Her thoughts jumped immediately to Yearling and her onyx rook. Was this what she felt like when she first got the idea to help Rarity? It was a curious feeling, mixing hope and dread in equal measure. What if she grew attached to him? He might prove beyond learning. Then again, he learned the tent easily enough. Yet how about how much he shook when he was trying to aim that rifle at her? It might make him a coward. Then again, she’d not exactly been a font of courage when bandits had attacked her caravan seven years ago.

He wanted to learn. Teaching him might get him killed.

But if he was going to go regardless, not teaching him would make his odds even worse.

Could she even teach somepony how to survive out here? She wasn’t sure what needed to be learned. Since when had anyone ever wanted to be an apprentice in wilderness survival, anyway?

“Is that a no?”

Realizing she’d been scowling, Rarity forced her face into a neutral position. “My apologies, I was just thinking.” She stared at his imploring gaze for a few seconds more, stewing on the subject without thought. At last, she sighed and looked away. “I honestly don’t know how to do what you’re asking. Still, if you intend to make the journey regardless then I see no reason not to at least try. I wouldn’t want you to end up dead after I went through the trouble of saving you, it would be very disappointing.”

“Yes!” He flinched at her fresh frown and turned forward swiftly. “I m-mean, great. Thank you.”

Resting a hand on his shoulder once more, she spoke firmly. “Let me be clear. I’m doing this because I want you to live long enough to recognize the worth of your family, as I have. It is not a game, and we don’t do this for fun. Remember, boy: taking a life is the worst possible thing you can do.”

That made him glance back once more, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “The ‘worst’ thing?”

She opened her mouth to confirm, but snatched the words back before they could form. She could think of at least one thing worse, and it made her want to clench her legs tight. “Maybe not, but it’s bad enough on its own.” She leaned over to cast a glare at Cerulean’s head, speaking a little more loudly than before. “And since someone refuses to march past nightfall, I suppose we’ll get started then.”

“Great!” Flintlock flinched even without her having to do anything. “I mean, not great. But… good? I think.”

Rarity smiled at his nervousness, but lost it quickly. It would make for a big problem, and one she needed to resolve if he was going to have any hope in the future.

She had a good idea of where to start.





Flintlock examined Silver Lining as he held it in both hands. “Can’t I start with the big one?”

“No.” Rarity felt no small unease letting somepony else handle what she’d come to think of as ‘her’ gun. She had to fight down the urge to snatch Silver Lining back. It was a temporary solution. And a necessary evil. He didn’t have a gun of his own, and he couldn’t practice without, so… “And it’s not ‘the big one’, it’s the Ruby Heart. Respect your weapon.”

He glowered and tried holding Silver Lining in one hand, as he’d seen Rarity do. “Cut me some slack, I’ve never held a gun before yesterday. Well, not with intention of firing it, anyway.”

“Neither did I until some dick-for-brains decided to force the issue. Be glad you get to practice a little before your life is actually on the line.” She gestured to the empty tin cans she’d lined up on the opposite hill. “Go ahead, try it.”

He glanced at her, then took Silver Lining in both hands once more. Even as he pointed the weapon, he asked, “Shouldn’t you tell me how, first?”

“I want to see what I’m up against.” And by the way his hands shook, it appeared to be a lot. “Fire when ready.”

A long quiet passed between them. The cans, not ten yards away, waited innocuously for their fates to be sealed. Rarity didn’t pressure Flintlock, only watched with solemn patience. She dearly hoped this test run would go better than she feared. She cast a glance at Cerulean, who watched them from where he lay between their tents with a bored manner.

A shot rang out. Dirt kicked up between two of the cans. Flintlock sighed, started to lower Silver Lining—

“You’ve got four more shots,” Rarity said, words sharp. “Use them up, then we investigate.” It worked for her with Cranky, it may work with him.

Unlike her whining – yes, she could acknowledge it for what it had been – Flintlock merely nodded, licked his lips, and aimed again. His second shot came almost a minute later, and this time the dirt that kicked up was far uphill. A rather tragic miss.

Three more shots, three more misses. He’d really only come close once. A disappointing display, but more than that it was a sobering clue for Rarity. She’d always been better than she expected with guns, but after seeing this? Either Flintlock was a terrible gunslinger, or Rarity was an exceptional one. She didn’t know which one produced the nasty feeling squirming in her stomach right now, but it was at least food for thought.

Flintlock scowled at Silver Lining. “It would help if I had some light.”

Rarity knew he was right, and she had considered creating a magical floodlight before. But they were already announcing their presence enough as it was with the gunshots, they didn’t need some brilliant light announcing to every bandit within five miles where they were. “The moon will have to do, paltry though it is.”

They both cast a glance at the waxing crescent in the sky. Rarity offered a little prayer to Mother Night to keep them safe from potential threats. By the hard chin of Flintlock, he was probably thinking something less respectful. With a grunt, he turned to her and raised the gun. “Alright, how do I reload this thing?”

“You don’t.” She took the weapon in her magic. “I do. I’m afraid Silver Lining’s mechanisms are very different from your average gun. The same is true for Ruby Heart. I don’t think you’d learn much reloading either when the next gun you wield will inevitably be loaded in another way.” By the time she’d finished talking, the gun had a new cylinder and was back in his hands.

“Wonderful.” He turned to aim once more, but this time Rarity set her hand on his arm. He glanced at her, but her attention was on his hands.

The gun shook slightly. She cocked her head at the sight. “Your talent is in gunsmithing. I would have thought you’d have steady hands.”

He hesitated, unable to meet her eyes when she looked to his face. “It’s… different. I can make guns easy, but it’s a distant element. I know they are used to harm others, it’s a given. But to actually learn how to do it myself?”

A fresh wave of déjà vu came over Rarity at those words. But instead of remorse or guilt, she felt a strange calm come over her. She wrapped her hands around his, steadying them, without taking her eyes from his face. His cheeks bloomed at her touch, but she ignored that as she spoke. “I know. Believe me, Flintlock, I thought something very similar when I was first training myself.”

Gradually, she lowered his hands until the gun was pointed at the ground directly in front of them. “You have to make the decision on your own. A gun may save your life, but it will also take the lives of others. Only you can decide if your life is worth theirs.” She let his hands go and stepped back. “If you can’t take a life, it’s better to recognize that now. I’ll try to help you learn other things, but it’s up to you whether you want to fight.”

His eyes drifted from her to the gun in his hands. Lips pursed, brow furrowed, he took on a look of intense thought. His breathing became slow and heavy. At last, he raised the gun again and took aim. His hands still shook, but there was determination in his gaze as he looked down Silver Lining’s sights. He fired five shots at a steady, even pace. None hit, and he cursed under his breath.

But he’d clearly made his decision, much to Rarity’s chagrin. No point trying to talk him out of it now. “It’s alright. It takes time.”

Flintlock shot her a scowl. “I don’t see how I’m supposed to do this when I can barely see the damn things.”

She shrugged, trying not to let her disappointment show. “The bandits won’t conveniently wait for daylight.”

“Are you suggesting they only come out at night?” He cocked an eyebrow at her and smirked. “Like in some kid’s fantasy?”

She grabbed the gun from him, using her hands this time, and began reloading the cylinder already in the gun. “What I’m saying, boy, is that the bandits will decide when and where to attack.” First bullet. “It could be at night when your husband and son are out in the fields with you home alone.” Second bullet. “It could be at the break of dawn, using the rising sun as cover for their charge.” Third bullet. “It might be at the tavern where you’ve drank half the apple cider and are too smashed to know the difference between a pretty mare and a bar stool.” Fourth bullet, with extra force. “Or maybe it’s while you’re sleeping, blissfully unaware in your tent, when they realize that the pony you’ve assigned to keep watch has decided to take a nap.”

Fifth bullet, and she snapped her head towards the cans. With one hand, she fired five shots in rapid succession. To a surprise she didn’t dare show on her face, five different cans fell to their presumed deaths.

“Whoa!” Flintlock hopped, hands up and eyes wide as his head whipped back and forth between her and the downed cans. “Okay, okay, I get it! B-but how the hay did you do that?”

She turned from him to hide her face as she slowly changed cylinders. “From the day I was forced into this life, for many weeks I made myself practice a little every day, no matter what.” Her hands were shaking. Why were her hands shaking? “I knew I had to either get good or die.” She’d dealt with such trembling for long enough that they proved no obstacle to her reloading.

She turned and offered the gun to him again. “I don’t have an infinite number of bullets. You get one more cylinder, then we stop for the night.” That was already a lot more than she would have preferred. “Tonight was just to get you a chance to try it out. Tomorrow we’ll focus on the whole aiming thing.”

Silver Lining trembled in her hand. He stared at it without reaching for it. “Are you okay?”

“Mr. Flintlock, I have not been okay in a very long time.” She grabbed his wrist, raised it up and shoved Silver Lining into his palm. “When I am not scared, I am angry, and when I am not angry, I am thinking about how to stay unnoticed. If at any time I appear happy, it is because nopony’s bothered to shoot at me in a while and I’m starting to get careless.”

Filling her gaze with all the frustration she felt at having her weakness known, she met his eyes. “I left home. This is the result. Pray to the Sisters your little journey of independence doesn’t have the same results.”

He gripped Silver Lining loosely, gawking at her as if she’d just told him Princess Celestia had returned to Equestria on a flying carpet made from Discord’s hide. She flicked her mane, spun on her heels, and marched for the unlit campfire.

“W-where are you going?”

“To get dinner started.”

That was all. She wasn’t going to dwell on her hands, or how she finally understood that she was training a young colt to kill. Did Yearling feel this too? The guilt that might strike if she ever learned he’d put her little lessons to good use? Or worse, that they had failed to protect him. She could still see his eyes, innocent and trusting.

The more she saw him, the more she saw herself at that age. Naïve. Unaware. Confident in her future. Fully expecting the world to bow to her whims merely because she wanted it to. Sleep didn’t come easily that night. She spent most of the time staring at the top of her tent and wondering if he would fall as easily, as swiftly, and as hard as she did.

Flintlock woke her when it was her turn to keep watch. She wanted to be happy he learned his lesson so quickly.

She couldn’t get past the nagging worry that he’d learned too quickly.
> Episode 18: Bitter Ergot
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


56th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


Bitter Ergot was situated in a small valley in the foothills of the Sunpeaks. For a trading hub, Rarity had expected something the size of, say, Rockstead. What she saw was probably only a fifth that big. It struck her as a comfortable, homely place, a little like Spurhoof. Not an attractive town, what with its barren landscape and dull stone structures, but her former home had taught her that the best a place had to offer was not necessarily related to its outer appearance.

Flintlock made no attempt to move Cerulean onwards. He only stared at the town in silence. Rarity couldn’t see his face given her position behind him, but she could imagine it was one of frustration. With a sigh, she climbed off the lizard.

The motion caught Flintlock’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“Walking,” she replied, moving on ahead. “Since you seem so hesitant.”

“So you’re just going to walk into town without Cerulean?”

She shrugged, not deigning to look back. “I didn’t intend to ride him in regardless. I’m not going to be seen riding behind you like some flighty damsel you just rescued, thank you very much.”

She descended the shallow slope of the hill, heading for town. She suspected it would take her another hour to get there at her current pace. As much as the panicky pony in the back of her mind wanted to hurry, she knew there would be no point in it. If her sister and Coco had been through here, they’d have undoubtedly already moved on. Rarity knew from her map that there were four major roads through the Sunpeaks towards Seaddle, and the whole chase would be pointless if she took the wrong route.

Which meant asking around and getting some clues. She couldn’t do that in a rush. Especially if she was dealing with the Bad Apple Gang. Who knew what tricks they had up their collective sleeves? She wouldn’t put it past them to leave behind instructions to like-minded folk to misguide her.

Cerulean’s footsteps sounded behind her, first at a canter, then slowing as he got closer. Once he was by Rarity’s side, Flintlock dismounted and walked with her. A glance out the corner of her eye found him sulking, shoulders hunched and eyes on his boots. She didn’t blame him. He’d confided in her before that he’d left home without seeking his parents approval, only leaving behind a note of his intentions. He’d be getting an earful soon, she was sure.

It wasn’t until they were near that Rarity noticed the emptiness of the place. Not that Bitter Ergot was devoid of citizens. It just didn’t seem to have so many wandering the main road – if a dirt path could be called a ‘road’ – as its size suggested. Now that she really paid attention, it seemed many of the houses and stores were abandoned entirely.

She leaned towards Flintlock. “Is there something you might have forgotten to tell me? Such as why there are so few ponies living here?”

He grunted with apparent disinterest. “I did tell you the water has dried up, right?”

Thinking back, she realized he had indeed mentioned something to that effect. It seemed odd to her. As far as Rarity knew, water didn’t just ‘dry up’. “You mean the wells stopped producing?”

Flintlock shook his head before pointing to the hill making up the town’s southern side. “There’s an underground river under Softsoil Hill. We get to it by an old tunnel. One day late in the Burning Season the river started to dwindle. Three weeks back it went dry completely. No water means no town.”

That sounded entirely unbelievable to Rarity. “Rivers don’t just ‘dry up’. Did you check upstream to see if there’s some kind of blockage?”

His long, suffering sigh made her bristle. “What part of ‘underground’ didn’t you get? There’s no ‘upstream’ to check. The water comes out of the rock, literally. Or at least it did.”

Rarity couldn’t claim to be a… whatever one called a water expert, but she knew that Flintlock’s story didn’t make much sense. She made no further attempt to get an explanation though. It was clear that he knew nothing of the cause, and he obviously had little interest in the discussion.

They soon found themselves on the town’s main street, surrounded by buildings that were eerily quiet. Stone patios were covered in sand and dust, making it clear that nopony had been around for some time. It wasn’t until they’d passed more than a dozen such structures that they finally came to a place with some life. A saloon and a tavern stood on opposite sides of the street, and a slightly larger inn competed with them a bit further down. Nestled amongst the buildings was the entrance to a lizard stable that, at first glance, seemed very small. But Rarity had gotten a good look from atop the hill earlier, and knew that the stable grew to be much larger once it got behind the other buildings.

“Flintlock Stock!”

And that, apparently, was the grocery store, from which a tall mare who shared Flintlock’s burgundy mane came storming out. Rarity stepped back to watch the fireworks, trying her level best not to smirk at how Flintlock tried to hide himself behind Cerulean’s head. The mare stalked right around and caught his ear between her fingers, jerking him out into the open.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve coming back here, you little turd!”

Flintlock squirmed and yowled and clutched his hands tight. “M-Mom, please, not where everyone can see!”

“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me, you little hooligan!” Despite her fiery tone, she did at least let him go. “I should tan your hide raw. What in Mother Night’s name were you thinking, running off like that? Have you any idea how scared I was? I practically had to tie your father to the counter to keep him from going out after you. The fool of a stallion, where would I have been then, huh?”

Rubbing his ear with both hands, Flintlock failed to meet his mother’s heated glare. “Geez, Mom, I’m sorry, okay? I got—”

Her finger set before his muzzle silenced him. “Be quiet! You don’t get to talk right now.” That same finger shot towards Rarity, who had taken the opportunity to grab Cerulean’s reins. “And who the heck are you?”

Rarity had dealt with enough trouble in the last year that being faced down by an angry mother didn’t make her so much as blink. She offered a smug smile and replied, “Rarity Belle, a pleasure. I found your son in the wilderness and decided to drag him home.”

This was clearly not the answer Mrs. Stock expected, but it did appear to placate her. Some. She eyed Rarity as if attempting to gauge the truth of her explanation. “Well, if that’s the case then I suppose I should thank you. The ignorant lout didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

Turning her smile on the glowering Flintlock, she replied, “Your son behaved himself, though it took some convincing to get him to come with me, and he did wave a rifle in my face.”

“A rifle?”

Flintlock had just enough time to give Rarity a look promising imminent destruction before his mother whacked him on the cheek with the back of her hand. “You fool! A pretty mare offers to rescue your sorry flank and you point a gun at her?”

Okay, Rarity had to admit she was taking her anger a little too far. “In his defense, he feared I might be a bandit.”

“A bandit? A pretty little thing like you?”

Raising an eyebrow, Rarity made a show of tapping Silver Lining with a lone finger.

The mare spotted it and her eyes went wide. “Why in Equestria would you be carrying something like that around, missy?”

She’d said it with such a tone of disgust that Rarity abruptly realized exactly why Flintlock was having trouble at home. With a sigh, she reached up to rub at Cerulean’s muzzle, having noticed that his frills were suddenly raised and he was hissing at the mare. She wasn’t sure if she should blame him for the reaction. “I apologize for cutting this short, but I have business in town. You wouldn’t happen to know if any unusual characters passed through town, would you?”

Mrs. Stock scowled once more. “You’re not here to pick up that donkey, are you?”

Rarity’s ears perked. “Donkey?”

“Foul thing. Killed old Green Talon, our local rancher. In his own ranch, at that! Sheriff’s got him locked up.” The mare scoffed and turned to Flintlock. “You go on inside. Your father’s going to have some words for you.”

Flintlock gave Rarity one last pleading look, but she could only shrug and try to look apologetic. What was she supposed to do, shoot his mother? The mare was probably just scared for him, and he’d come to see it soon enough. With a final sigh, he slumped his way to the store like a prisoner headed to the gallows.

His mother watched him go until he disappeared inside, and only then deflated. She turned to Rarity, gripping her dirty grey dress in both hands as she did. “Thank you, Miss Belle. Really. I know I came out like a fireball, but I’ve been scared half to death for my boy. No sense in that head of his, just like his grandfather.”

Rarity smiled at this, glad to see her suspicions were accurate. “It’s no problem at all. I just happened to come across his caravan. Your son is very lucky to be alive, Mrs. Stock.”

“And he probably didn’t learn anything, either.” The mare rubbed her loose strands of hair back, sweat streaking along with the motion. “He didn’t try anything foolish, did he? I mean, he’s a young stallion and… well, you know how they can get.”

Perhaps now wouldn’t be a good time to mention that she’d taught Flintlock a little about shooting and other survivor’s tips. Rarity shrugged and replied nonchalantly, “Aside from waving a rifle he didn’t know how to use at me, no, he was a perfect gentlecolt in that regard.”

“Good. That’s good.” Mrs. Stock exhaled slowly, her shoulders going slack. “He’s a good boy, but he gets these fanciful ideas. I’m sorry you had to put up with him. I’d offer to repay you, but I’m afraid we’re a little short right now on everything. Whole town is, really.”

It was then Rarity noticed the mare watching her from beneath the awning of the nearby saloon. She had a pleasant pink coat – heliotrope? – with a mane of the most curious combination of purples and blue. She was also scowling, which didn’t lead Rarity to suspect she had any good intentions, even with the star-shaped badge on her purple vest. At least she had good fashion sense, what with the form-fitting dark-purple pants and immaculately pressed white shirt. Not a set of colors Rarity could use, but they did well enough on that pony.

“I see you’ve caught the eye of the sheriff.” Mrs. Stock huffed. “Don’t take it personally, she glares at everypony.”

“Must be a job requirement,” Rarity muttered, her thoughts drifting to Cranky. “I wonder if I should walk over and let her know I don’t plan on robbing any banks anytime soon.”

“Please don’t,” the mare replied in a dry tone. “The town’s in bad enough shape as it is.” Straightening up at last, Mrs. Stock gave one last nod before turning away. “Thank you again for bringing my son home, Miss Belle. Don’t hesitate to come by the shop sometime, we’ll help you out if we can. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure my layabout husband is doing more than just welcoming Flintlock home.”

Despite her agitation, Rarity had enough wit in her to grant a “Have fun!” at the mare’s back, which earned her a smirk in return. That done, Rarity looked to the sun and determined she had a few hours left in her day. Maybe with a bit of talking she could figure out which way the gang had taken Sweetie and Coco.

Where better to start than the pony whose job it was to watch out for such nefarious sorts as the Bad Apples? But when Rarity refocused her attention on the sheriff, she found that the mare had already half-reached her. It seemed she had something to say. Her heavy-browed grimace hadn’t softened one iota, which put Rarity on high alert. She made an effort not to rub Silver Lining’s grip, instead forcing her hand up to the necklace beneath her shirt.

The sheriff paused before Rarity, hands on her hips and eyes studious. She looked her over, from her boots to her curled (and in dire need of washing) mane. Rarity decided it would only be proper to stare right back, taking in the pants that perfectly accentuated the sheriff’s hips and a shirt made of silk. Definitely not a local job, she thought. Unless they have a tailor here with access to some extremely rare materials.

Still frowning, the mare finally extended a hand to Rarity. “Starlight Glimmer, Sheriff of Bitter Ergot.” The formal introduction went well with the force of her tone, or so Rarity concluded.

“Rarity Belle. Drifter.” She somehow managed to avoid cringing at the declaration, and wasn’t sure whether to be proud or saddened by the fact. “Is there something I can help you with, Sheriff?”

“Perhaps.” Sheriff Glimmer crossed her arms and eyed Silver Lining. “‘Drifter,’ you say. You don’t happen to do any raiding while drifting around, do you?”

The heat on Rarity’s cheeks had nothing to do with the hot sun overhead. “Are you suggesting I might be a bandit? Because if so I resent the implication.”

Starlight’s eyebrows rose, her expression awash with bemused disbelief. “Alright, let’s say I believe that. Maybe you’re a hired gun, then?”

Rarity heaved a sigh and rubbed at her temple. “Do I really look like that much of a rogue?” Cerulean gave a hiss, which she hoped was in her defense.

“You look like somepony who can handle herself,” the sheriff corrected smartly. “I saw you brought Flintlock back into town. He left on a caravan. I can only assume it didn’t make it.”

Ah, so the mare was trying to connect dots and jumped to an unfortunate conclusion. Rarity supposed she could forgive her that. “I assure you, the caravan had already been raided when I got there. Flintlock would be happy to corroborate that, should you ask him.”

Starlight heaved a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “Alright, look. Whatever you are, you’re not new to the whole fighting and surviving thing. I need help from somepony like that. Will you at least hear me out?”

Rarity paused to consider. She had to figure out where Sweetie and Coco had gone, and she needed to do so as fast as possible. Even if she were inclined to do such things, she didn’t have time to go on a ridiculous hunting mission like some gun for hire. Then again, Starlight might have the information she needed. It wouldn’t hurt to barter a bit, see if perhaps they could help one another. But if this pony intended her to kill for bits…

She could always say no. “I’ll hear your proposal,” Rarity said at last. “I have something I came here for, after all. Perhaps you can help me in return.”

After a moment of peering like she expected Rarity to be some master criminal, Starlight nodded and gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. “Fine. Let’s head to my office, shall we?”





The building housing the sheriff’s office wasn’t too large, though it easily dwarfed the one in Spurhoof. Starlight’s office was spacious enough to allow the two of them to sit opposite one another in comfort, the bare stone walls sparsely decorated with pictures Rarity suspected had been in the room long before Starlight herself. The only thing that seemed new in the place was a tall, narrow bookshelf in one corner.

Rarity was surprised to find that the majority of the books on it had to do with the study of magic. “You’re a mage, Sheriff?”

Starlight closed her eyes tight, her face going rigid as she sat heavily in her seat. “I… used to be.” With a long exhale, she recovered herself and focused her ever-heated gaze upon Rarity. “Let’s get to business, shall we? I need a pony to run escort.”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Have you tried the Little Angels package company? I hear they’re doing rural stops now.”

“Never heard of them,” Starlight replied with a shrug. “Besides, this isn’t your typical package. It’s alive and kicking, and he needs to be watched. A prisoner in back. Murderer.”

Murderer? This seemed far out of Rarity’s purview. It was also a little confusing, all things considered. “If he’s guilty, why are you bothering to transport him?”

Starlight shook her head. “I know these small, rural towns have a reputation for quick justice, but I’ve got law to uphold. Bitter Ergot falls in Hoofington’s control, and by Hoofington law a stallion accused of something like this has to go there for trial and sentencing.”

“Really? That law’s archaic. I didn’t think there was a town in the Bowl that still paid it any attention, not since the Battle of Ponyville when travel got more dangerous.”

“Believe me, I know.” Starlight crossed her arms and scowled at the ceiling. Rarity suspected that expression was her default one, because she used it a lot. “Fact is, I’m in this dump of a town because I didn’t respect the law. I’ve got to play it straight or my flank’s toast. So that’s what I’m gonna do. But I can’t just leave Bitter Ergot to escort this guy. That’s where you can help me.”

Rarity knew she couldn’t. The fact proved more disappointing than she’d expected, possibly because it meant Starlight would have no reason to help her. Cringing, she said, “I am sorry, but I have urgent business that isn’t taking me anywhere near Hoofington. Unless you happen to have some kidnapped ponies recently rescued in this town, I can’t accept your offer.”

Starlight abruptly sat up straight, pressing her hands to the table as she met Rarity’s gaze. “Kidnapped ponies? Elaborate.” She listened intently as Rarity explained her situation, making sure to stick to the most basic facts: she was trying to save her friend and sister from the Bad Apples and had reason to believe they’d come through Bitter Ergot. The Bulletproof Heart and her other adventures were carefully left out.

Starlight hummed, cupping her chin between her thumb and forefinger as she pondered. “If something like that’s passed through town, I don’t know about it. And you’d think I would, considering we haven’t had any visitors in a while. Not since the water dried up.”

“It’s not as if they’d do it in the open,” Rarity admitted gloomily, staring at the desk between them. “There must be somepony in this town who knows something. They couldn’t have passed through completely undetected. Mayhap they stayed at the inn.”

“You’re welcome to ask around. I’ll even help. I am the sheriff, after all.” Starlight stood up and stretched, her back popping from the motion. “If I’m lucky we’ll find they turned back to Hoofington. At least then I might be able to convince you to take this Doodle character off my hooves.”

Halfway between sitting and standing, Rarity froze. Doodle? It couldn’t be.

“Something wrong?” Starlight asked, her perpetual glower aimed Rarity’s way.

Licking her lips and hoping she was wrong, Rarity stood up straight before asking, “This prisoner of yours? I heard he was a donkey. What was his name?”

“Doodle,” Starlight replied with a shrug. “Cranky Doodle. Why?”





Cranky’s head shot up when Rarity stopped in front of his cell. “Miss Belle? What in Luna’s glorious backside are you doing here?”

Wrapping her hands around the bars, Rarity was forced to acknowledge that it really was Cranky, deputy of Spurhoof, in the cell. Aware of Starlight listening in not five feet away, she replied, “I could ask you the same thing. How in Equestria did you end up getting accused of murder?”

The old donkey snorted and stood up, stepping into the light of a nearby window. Despite the fact his toupee was missing, he looked no worse for wear. “Dang farmer came at me while I was investigatin’ his field. What was I supposed to do, let him split my head open with a garden hoe?”

So it was self-defense. Rarity found that easy to believe. She knew Cranky well enough to never suspect him of any intentional wrongdoing. But if he was in here, then something had to have gone wrong. Time to get some facts. “What were you investigating, exactly?”

Cranky worked his jaw, and Rarity found it interesting to note that he seemed to stay true to his namesake even under these unfortunate conditions. “Trying to do some guess-work into where that underground river goes. I don’t know if you heard, but they say it just dried up, and that doesn’t happen.” He grumbled a bit before adding, “And you’re asking your questions in the wrong order. Ain’t ya the least bit interested in what I’m doing here instead of in Spurhoof?”

“That can wait,” she replied with equal terseness. “My first priority is getting you out of here. Now, why were you trying to solve the mystery of the dried up river?”

“Why?” He stared at her as though she’d just asked the dumbest question ever. “Because the river dried up. Rivers don’t do that without a reason. I suspected foul play, so I thought I’d do some diggin’.”

Starlight spoke up, her voice just as grouchy as his. “Maybe if you hadn’t gone snooping around on private property?”

“Stuff it, rich girl,” Cranky growled. “The place doesn’t exactly have a fence around it.”

“Wait.” Rarity turned to Starlight. “If he was only defending himself, why is he charged with murder?”

“Witness testimony,” Starlight replied smoothly, her muzzle high. “It’s the word of a stranger against the word of the deceased’s family. Green Talon’s record is spotless, and he definitely had a bullet in his corpse. Extracted it myself.” Starlight met Rarity’s eyes with her increasingly familiar scowl. “Somepony’s dead. I can’t exactly let the accused go wandering around trying to prove his innocence, now can I?”

“She’s right, kid.” Cranky didn’t even sound bitter about it. Well, no more than usual, at any rate. “It’s my word against theirs. If I were in her position, I’d probably make the same damn decisions.”

“You’re not helping any, Cranky,” Rarity grumbled. She kept her attention on Starlight. “So what do I have to do to get him free?”

“Nothing,” Starlight replied firmly. “He’s not going free, period. Unless you can find evidence proving his story, he’s going straight to Hoofington the minute I find somepony willing and able to cart him there.”

So all Rarity had to do was start her own investigation and get the deceased family to admit to what really happened. If only it would be so easy as it was just thinking about it. Knowing the task would be a challenge, Rarity steeled herself towards the goal. “Fine, I’ll start immediately.”

“What?” The sheriff’s eyes widened, her tough demeanor fading for surprise. “Why the hay would you do that? Have you forgotten you’re on a rescue mission?”

This time Rarity allowed the impulse to guide her hand towards Silver Lining. She rubbed the small nub on the handle as she stared Starlight down. “The only reason I am alive right now is because of this donkey. I won’t leave him to hang because of a false charge.”

Starlight threw up her hands in defeat. “Fine, waste your time. Not like it affects me any. Go on, do your investigation. I just hope your sister and friend can stand to wait while you’re doing it.” With that, she stomped back to her office.

Cranky stepped up to the bars, his expression grim. “What’s this about your sister and a friend needing rescue?”

“I’ll explain later.” She turned, grabbing the bars once more as she leaned into them. “The important thing at the moment is getting you out of here.”

But Cranky’s face hardened. “If you’ve got family that needs help, they come first. You should get out of here.”

“And let you face the gallows alone? Not a chance!”

“Rarity—”

“No.” She reached through the bars and grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer so she could look him in the eyes properly. “I’m not letting them do this to you, Cranky. I owe you, and I could use your gun arm. Now stop arguing with me and tell me everything that happened from the moment you stepped into this town.”

He looked down at her hand, then at her. His eyes shifted in small motions as he studied her. At last, he permitted a ghost of a smile to slip through his grimace. “Glad to see you haven’t lost any of your fire.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “No, I most certainly haven’t.”

Her frustration faded when he took her hand in both of his and gave it a light squeeze. “It’s good to see you’re still alive, kid. Real good.”

At his somber, calm expression, Rarity found it in herself to calm down a bit. She reached her other hand through and patted his. For just a moment, she recalled who she was talking to and how much he’d helped her in those last hours at Spurhoof. That wrinkled, grumpy face of his… she’d missed it far more than she thought.

“It’s good to see you too, Cranky.” She smiled, reveling in this pleasant, rare moment. “I honestly didn’t think I’d get the pleasure again.”

“You and me both, kid.” After a moment, he coughed and let go of her hands. Straightening up, he said, “So, we gonna get started or what?”





The first step for Rarity had been to visit the family of Green Talon. It turned out the stallion raised sand lizards, particularly Thick Scales. The ranch where he’d lived had roughly five dozen of the things roaming around. Massive beasts, Thick Scales, as wide as a wagon and three times as heavy. They were also the most docile of the three sand lizard types, as evidenced by how they all but ignored Rarity as she wandered amongst them.

She’d attempted to talk with the family, which consisted of a mare and three sons, all thestrals. Alas, the wound was too fresh, and they didn’t have much to offer. What Rarity did manage to gather was that only the middle son had witnessed the event, and he insisted that Cranky shot first. Since he said it, the rest of the family assumed it must be true. Rarity couldn’t blame them for that.

But Rarity remained convinced of Cranky’s innocence, and so had to conclude the boy – for he couldn’t have been more than twelve – was either lying or misinterpreted events. Rarity had no idea which, and wasn’t about to throw out accusations anyway, not at this emotional juncture. She wrote off the family as helpless to her cause, but they did agree to let her poke around the spot where Green Talon was shot.

The eldest son, Bareback, was willing to bring her there. He was fifteen, and seemed to have followed in his father’s hoofsteps in terms of careers. He was able to identify every lizard they passed by name, and even gave her a few anecdotes regarding them. It was all an obvious effort to keep his emotions at bay, and Rarity was more than happy to play along. She laughed when appropriate, asked questions pertinent to the current story. But all she could think of was how he and his family were accusing an innocent donkey of murder.

They came upon a sand lizard, this one a Dust Devil. It was a pale, mottled grey like dirty snow, and it lay on the ground as though sleeping. The sight of it took Rarity aback, for she’d never seen a lizard of such coloration before. When Rarity and Bareback approached, it opened its eyes to peer at them. Seeming bored by their presence, it turned its face away.

“That’s Ophelia,” Bareback said, keeping his distance. “She was Dad’s. Hasn’t left the spot since it happened.”

Rarity nodded, taking a few tentative steps closer. “Is she dangerous?”

“Ophelia? Dangerous?” It sounded as though he wanted to laugh at the suggestion. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He sobered quickly. “Loved Dad to death, though. She’s only a year old, and he was there the whole time.”

That only made things worse. The family might be an issue, but Rarity felt nothing but sympathy for the creature before her. She moved closer and hesitantly reached down. The lizard lacked the large frills of its male counterparts, but still had a set of smaller ones just above the neck. Rarity reached under them and scratched at the soft spot between the scales. The frill flicked, and Ophelia shifted to stare at her with a lone, icy blue eye. Up close like this, the loss in her gaze was as obvious as it was painful. Ophelia gave a lone, quiet trill before settling back to her previous pose.

“I don’t know what happened between your master and my friend,” Rarity whispered to her, “but I intend to find out. I hope you don’t mind me looking around.” If Ophelia had any opinion on the matter, she sullenly kept it to herself.

Taking this as tacit acceptance, Rarity began to circle the immediate area. “I take it this is where it happened?” They were on the side of a hill, mostly barren save for some boulders and a lone tree that appeared to be on its last legs, its branches skeletally bare. There didn’t seem to be anything special about the place.

“This is it,” Bareback acknowledge. He turned to point at a spot down the hill. “We found Dad at the bottom.”

But he’d likely rolled down, given the fairly steep incline and where Ophelia was lying. Had she seen the whole thing? Rarity paused to give the creature another comforting scratch, lamenting that she had no means of getting into its head. “Is there anything out here of importance?”

The colt shrugged. “Not really.”

Not very helpful. She examined the grounds as best she could, but Rarity was no tracker or detective. It all looked the same to her. Walking to the top of the hill, she took another look at her surroundings. If she was correct, then the town of Bitter Ergot would be to the southwest of here, invisible only because of the tall hills blocking the view. It had taken her half an hour to get to the ranch, but she guessed a Dust Devil could go straight across those hills and make it to town in half the time.

“Do you know what Cranky – the donkey, I mean – was doing out here?”

“Trespassing,” Bareback groused before spitting on the ground. “And shooting good ponies like my dad.”

Taking that as a no and steadfastly ignoring his crude behavior, Rarity raised her finger to point in the direction she believed the town to be in. If her spatial orientation was accurate, then that made the caves to the underground river a bit to her left. Once reasonably sure she was in alignment, she turned around to find herself facing the slope of their hill. If Cranky was trying to follow the underground river’s flow, then he’d likely have been headed this way.

If Green Talon really believed Cranky was some trespassing bandit, his actions would be understandable. But Rarity didn’t trust that scenario, or rather, didn’t want to believe it. She had one other theory: Cranky was on the verge of finding something he wasn’t meant to. This in mind, she promptly ascended the hill.

As soon as the opposite side came into view, Rarity felt a spark of hope. At the foot of the next hill was a narrow cave, perhaps just wide enough for maybe two ponies to walk in at once if they didn’t mind rubbing shoulders. Her curiosity raised, she called Bareback over. “What about that cave?”

“Oh, that?” Bareback gave a wistful smile. “My brothers and I call it the Castle. Used to play siege, try to take it from one another. Dad played too… sometimes.” He stared at the dark opening for a long while, until noticing her quiet gaze and shaking himself out of it. “It’s, er, an old iron mine. Dried up decades ago. Most ponies have forgotten it exists.”

An iron mine? Right on the line that Cranky was following, too. Rarity wasn’t about to chalk that up to coincidence. “Does it go down far?”

“Don’t rightly know,” the colt admitted. “My brothers and I used to dare one another to go as deep as we could, but none of us went in more than… a hundred feet? Maybe. Wasn’t exactly paying attention.” He crossed his arms and sighed. “Dad made us stop going in last Burning Season. Said it had gotten unstable. Too dangerous.”

The last Burning Season?

One day late in the Burning Season the river started to dwindle. Three weeks back it went dry completely.

Curious. She promptly marched for the opening, confident she’d find something interesting. Bareback hesitated a bit, but eventually followed.

As Rarity approached the mouth of the cave, her self-assurance dwindled. The opening loomed like the open maw of some great beast buried within the solid rock. This puzzled her at first, and she tried to set her uncertainty aside and walk through. The little pony in the back of her mind told her in its panicky voice that this was a mistake, that she should turn around. She ignored it, even as the uneven walls took away the sunlight. It was just a cave.

So why was her breath hitched?

Not ten steps in, Rarity’s legs decided to stop obeying her. She stood stark still, staring at the empty blackness ahead. A hot wind blew at her back, making her think that the imaginary beast was trying to suck her in. Her hands trembled as she tried to move onwards. Visions came to her, visions of wandering in the perfect darkness through an endless maze of stone. Her stomach churned with phantom pangs, a deep hunger going unsated. Her throat became as dry as the Great Salt Plains. She shouldn’t be down here. But how far had she gone? How far did she have left to go? What if she came upon a fork in the path?

“Miss?”

The darkness faded. Rarity came out of her fears with a shock, turning about sharply. Bareback watched her warily from the mouth of the cave not fifteen feet away, sunlight making a bright silhouette of his form. “Are you okay in there?”

Right. She wasn’t lost under the Dragon’s Teeth again. It was just an old, abandoned mine. She didn’t even have to go that far. Just to the first fork. Or… maybe just the first bend? She took a deep breath, then exhaled with equal care. Rubbing her necklace, she turned back to the darkness. “I’m fine, Bareback. Just an old anxiety creeping up on me.”

That matter settled, Rarity resumed her walk. Her legs were still a little wobbly, but otherwise gave her no trouble. She reminded herself over and over again that this wasn’t the same as the tunnels beneath the mountains. She had a clear, easy-to-reach exit only seconds away. There was no risk of starving or dehydrating.

Her thoughts didn’t keep her ears from folding back and her hackles rising.

As the darkness deepened, Rarity prepared a light spell. No sooner had she started working her horn than she felt a familiar tingling sensation at the base of it. She paused, fears momentarily forgotten. Her horn would only react that way if there was some powerful magic in effect nearby. Was somepony preparing a spell for her? She turned sideways to look to the entrance. Bareback was still there, having not entered the tunnel at all. Though the sunlight rendered him little more than an obscure black blob, his anxiety was given away by the constant fidgeting of his leathery wings.

She didn’t dare speak, lest she give her position away. If somepony was channeling a spell for her then it wouldn’t matter, but if they were casting for some other reason…

Pulling out Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, she proceeded into the cave at a more cautious pace. The uneven ground made silence impossible. Her best bet would be to shoot quickly. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. As she pressed onwards, she noticed a change in the shadows and realized she’d arrived at a curve in the path. Weapons ready, she brought her back to the wall and oh-so carefully peeked around the corner.

All her fears faded at the sight of a turquoise shield blocking her route. Well, that explained the magical signature she’d been reading. One would have to use some powerful magic to leave a shield spell standing on its own without anypony to maintain it. Putting her guns away, she approached the shield and tapped it with her finger. Ripples of light flew along the surface like waves in a lake, but the barrier felt solid enough. She closed her eyes and tried to determine the construction of the spell, but it proved to be a complex and quite literal web of lines.

It was a fascinating method of shield construction. Where Shining had taught Rarity to project a single solid wall, this was more like the dense, fine weave of cloth. It was as artistic as it was powerful, and she had a hard time imagining the magical skill of the pony responsible. The only question was who that pony was. Oh, and why they chose to block the path. Because it was dangerous?

Or, the little pony in the back of her mind countered ominously, to hide something.

Opening her eyes, she examined the colors of the barrier once more. Alas, she didn’t know anypony in town, much less their auras. The only unicorn she’d met was the sheriff, and Starlight hadn’t used any magic that she could recall during the visit. Seeing as it was unlikely Starlight was the only unicorn in Bitter Ergot, Rarity decided not to bother jumping to conclusions.

Then again… as sheriff, Starlight would have been obligated to investigate the area where Green Talon died. Did that mean she decided to pay the mines a visit? Just to take a look, of course.

Or to make sure no other snoops decided to go deeper into the mines.

Attempting to break this shield was pointless. While she might be able to figure out the complex patterns, Rarity knew she’d exhaust herself in short order trying to unravel the spell. She just didn’t have that kind of power. So she turned back, wondering what other reasons might exist for a pony to block this place. Safety would be an obvious reason. But what if there was something else? It was always possible that the river could be reached through here as well.

But if it was, what possible reason could a pony have for blocking the town off from it?

Bareback was waiting for her at the tunnel exit, relief washing over him when she emerged in the sunlight. “Did you find anything down there?”

She eyed the colt, wondering just how much he knew. “Maybe. Tell me, are there many unicorns in Bitter Ergot?”

“Unicorns?” His muzzle scrunched up as he thought about it. “Not really. Hardly any, come to think of it. The mayor, the sheriff… um… Miss Cherry, the bank teller. And you, I guess.” He rubbed his hands together and stared down the dark tunnel. “Why?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know if any have a turquoise aura, would you?”

Bareback gave her a look that suggested she was speaking Prench. “I have no idea what that means.”

Suppressing the urge to give the rustic a lesson in color terminology taxed Rarity’s patience, but she pulled it off. “Light and bright green.”

“Ooooh.” He rubbed his chin for a moment. “Yeah, Sheriff Glimmer’s got that, I think.”

Rarity tensed, but tried to keep from jumping to conclusions. There might be an explanation, preferably one that didn’t involve her having to fight a member of law enforcement. “I see. Is she a good sheriff?”

“Yeah, she’s good,” he grumbled, kicking a small rock into the tunnel. “Too good. Since she came along, everything’s been ‘by the book’. It drives us crazy. This town used to be laid back.”

Making her way back to the hill, she asked, “So Miss Glimmer’s new in town?”

“Showed up from Seaddle about two years ago.” Bareback followed, hands stuffed in his pockets and slouching. Rarity got the impression he didn’t have a high opinion of the sheriff. “Went around barking orders and acting like she was Princess Celestia incarnate. Mom says she had a stick up her butt from some bad business back west. You ask me, I’d say it’s still lost up in there somewhere.”

Rarity didn’t know what was stronger, her desire to laugh or the horror she felt that she’d descended so low as to find the declaration amusing. Her cheeks hurt from a determined effort not to smirk, especially with the graphic, arguably violent imagery the colt’s words put in her head.

Her amusement was cut short when they crested the hill and found Ophelia still laying on the ground where they’d left her. The morose sight instilled in Rarity a new determination. She would keep looking for clues, and maybe have a discussion with Cranky regarding her discovery. As much as she wanted her friend to be innocent, she had to also hope that Green Talon wasn’t a villain.

She had a disturbing feeling that the sheriff might be.





She was met on the way back to town by Flintlock. The stallion grinned at the sight of her, waving excitedly and hurrying to meet her on the rough dirt road to Bitter Ergot. “Hey, I hear you’re looking into that donkey’s case. Never took you for a detective.”

“And I never took you for an escape artist,” she countered, not granting him the honor of a smile. “However did you manage to get out from under your mother’s undoubtedly hawkish gaze?”

He waved dismissively. “Eh, Father got her to cool down. He’s good at that.” He came alongside her and matched her stride, hands behind his back as he studied her face. “So what’s the plan?”

She paused to return his study, raising an eyebrow at his innocent smile. “Why would you want to help me?”

The smile didn’t flinch. “Why not? I gotta learn more if I’m gonna get out of this town, y’know, alive. And you did kinda sorta take me under your wing.”

Groaning, she resumed walking. “Flintlock, I don’t know what you were expecting, but I’ll be leaving this place the instant I’ve proven my friend’s innocence.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So I won’t be taking you with me.”

“I don’t expect you to!” He leaned forward, perhaps trying to tempt her to look him in the eye. She didn’t bite. “You’re the best thing to an expert there is, and I still want to learn. Come on, Rarity, let me shadow you a bit while you solve this case. I might even be able to help.”

“Your mother is going to think you’ve developed a crush,” she noted dryly.

She watched out the corner of her eye as his face turned crimson. He sputtered a bit before being able to form a proper counter of, “We’ll just tell her she’s wrong!” A year ago she might have found his manner endearing. Today she only wondered what it would take to make him forget all about her. Because he needed to, and quickly.

Perhaps he noticed her distaste, for he hurried to add, “She is wrong. It’s nothing like that! It’s a, uh, step towards my goal. Right? Getting out of this town?”

“You’re not making yourself sound innocent, boy.” Even so, she gave him a small smile. “If it’ll make you happy, I don’t mind the help. Just remember that we part ways when I depart Bitter Ergot.”

His smile could rival Celestia’s sun. “Yes, ma’am!”

Stallions.

The town came into view as the road circled around a shallow hill. Rarity took the opportunity to study the place from a new angle. More abandoned homes. It was almost sad. This place had to have been teeming with families going about their business, building their lives and helping travelers on their way to or from Seaddle. Now? Nothing more than a ghost town.

Flintlock heaved a sigh as the two of them paused to view the scene. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. After all, without any water this place is disappearing. In another year or two it’ll just be a barren curiosity for the occasional passer by. The veritable Hollow Shades of the west.”

Rarity was content to let this statement go by untouched. At first. As her eyes drifted over the empty streets, they settled upon a tall building rising over the others. She’d passed by it earlier, and thus knew it to be Town Hall. At least it still looked well-tended. Which is precisely what gave her pause. “How is it that the town appears to be growing more and more poor, but Town Hall looks just fine?”

Her companion followed her gaze, but if he found Town Hall’s situation to be odd he gave no sign of it. “Mayor Wine took out a loan from the bank. They’ve been giving unemployed ponies the job of maintaining the place. Not like they have anything better to do, what with business steadily drying up.”

One didn’t run a successful business without a good understanding of how money worked, and Rarity had run the most successful business in Spurhoof for six years. Aside from giving her a painful understanding of just how exorbitantly expensive her life on the run had been so far, that financial awareness told her that there was something wrong with the situation before her. “One doesn’t take out a loan without an expectation of paying it back,” she muttered. “If Bitter Ergot is financially on its last legs, why would the mayor take out a loan? Why would the bank let him? Or her.”

“Her,” Flintlock helpfully supplied. “And I don’t really understand what you mean.”

Rubbing the handle of Silver Lining, she asked, “Does the mayor use the money for anything other than employing the less fortunate?”

“Oh, sure.” He waved his hand towards the abandoned structures laid out before them. “The mayor’s been buying up the land owned by the ponies who left. It ain’t worth crap, but it gives them enough to get out of town.”

That didn’t answer Rarity’s main concern. The mayor was spending all this money paying ponies and buying their land, and for what? It might be nice to think she was doing it out of the goodness of her heart, but kindness did not put food on the table or keep one out of staggering debt. Surely the mayor and the bank expected to get something out of their investments. Buying land that would be worthless soon? Not exactly a way to rake in dividends. She was missing something.

“Okay, I think I know what to do next,” she declared, adjusting her hat against the sunlight. “Come on, Flintlock, we’re going to pay Howler’s a visit.”





Ripe Cherry, the bank teller, was a young mare maybe Flintlock’s age, and Rarity took an instant dislike to her. She was an attractive, lithe thing with long legs but a short horn, her dark red mane was immaculate, and she wore bright red lipstick that went well with her peach coat. All these things were fine in Rarity’s book. What made her so unlikeable was the expression of superior disdain that seemed glued to her face, and a tone of voice that matched. When Rarity asked to see the bank’s proprietor, she was practically ignored. Then she whipped out her message orb, which was at least enough to get the filly to walk to a back room, highstepping and keeping her muzzle in the air the entire time.

Flintlock was watching Cherry’s flank as she left, his face a troubled mix of aroused and annoyed. He leaned towards Rarity to ask in a hushed voice, “You’ve been around. Are all bank employees like her?”

“Fortunately, no.” Rarity made a show of examining the bank’s interior, which was as simple in design as the one in Spurhoof, and smaller too. It sported images of the local landscape, all of which were rather boring. She made a mental note to talk to Spike about hiring some proper interior decorators for his branches. At least they kept their water barrels filled. “She doesn’t strike me as being a local.”

“And yet she is,” Flintlock groused. “I should know. She broke my heart three years ago.” At Rarity’s raised eyebrow he blushed and glanced away. “I didn’t have good taste back then.”

Cherry returned a moment later, followed by a Diamond Dog of average height but narrow build, dressed in a yellow pinstriped suit that was sheer torture for Rarity’s fashion sense. She imagined being only a few months out of practice kept her from leaping into a proper lecture on why his outfit should be considered a crime in all five major city states.

He smiled for Rarity and handed back her message orb. He spoke in a voice deeper than she expected for a Diamond Dog. “Good afternoon, Miss Rarity!” Well, at least Cherry had deigned to remember her name properly. “Very rare that pony have message orb. Miss Rarity must be good friend of Howler’s Bank, and any friend of Howler’s is friend of Mr. Fluffed.”

“A pleasure, sir.” Rarity pocketed her orb and smiled, pleased with his manners. Perhaps only the polite ones were allowed to manage bank branches? “I am sorry to interrupt your day, but I am performing an investigation for the donkey currently incarcerated in your local jail. I was hoping you could answer a few questions?”

Mr. Fluffed rubbed his chin with one of those big paws of his and hummed. “Mr. Fluffed not know what killer donkey has to do with Howler’s. Still, questions hurt nopup. Please, ask.”

Rarity had already prepared her questions in her head in advance, so she wasted no time. “How were Mr. Green Talon’s finances? Was he in any debt or the like?”

Another long hum, which Rarity might have mistaken for a growl where she not so familiar with Diamond Dogs. “No problems. Good customer. Pony’s funds were low for some years, but pony fixed problem not long ago.”

Fixed the problem? So Green Talon had come into money recently. “Have you any idea what brought about his change in fortunes?”

“Mr. Fluffed assumes lizard business got good.” He shrugged noncommittally. “Not good business to sniff in clients’ business, no.”

And with that, Rarity had her first breakthrough, for Mr. Fluffed’s story didn’t fit with what Green Talon’s widow had told her. A lack of ponies passing through town had meant fewer ponies in need of lizards, and business was starting to dry up. But the bank manager was correct, he had no real reason to dig into Green Talon’s business. If anypony was lying, it was probably the widow. That or the stallion himself hadn’t bothered to inform the missus of his newfound income.

But Rarity wasn’t done yet. “In that case, I suppose Mr. Talon’s land wasn’t at risk of being bought out by the town.”

“Mr. Fluffed doesn’t think so.” He scratched behind his ears, muzzle scrunched up in apparent confusion. “But Bank does not ask the mayor for financial records.”

Oh, but it should. Rarity smiled sweetly. “Mayor’s got a good head on her shoulders for money, does she?”

“Very good.” Mr. Fluffed grinned, showing his canines freely. Flintlock whimpered at the sight.

Ignoring her less experienced companion, Rarity asked, “Then I suppose Mayor Wine had a plan for paying back the substantial loan I hear she took out from the bank a while ago?”

“Um, yes?” Gone was the smile, replaced by high-browed uncertainty. “Forgive Mr. Fluffed, but what does this have to do with killer donkey in pony jail?”

“Yeah,” Flintlock threw in with no less confusion. “What?”

“Just tying up a few loose ends in my head,” she replied conversationally. “I know it seems strange, but it does help me get a bigger picture.” She crossed her arms and threw the manager her best smile. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me what that payment plan was, would you?”

Just as quick as it had come, Mr. Fluffed lost his confusion. He straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked her in the eye. “The Bank can’t share client info. Proprietary. Sorry.”

As she expected. Keeping her smile firmly in place, she said, “That’s quite alright, it was just a curiosity. I can get by without.”

“Good, because Bank not take kindly to sniffing ponies.” Mr. Fluffed turned his head slightly as he eyed her once more. “Where did pony say pony get message orb, again?”

Her smile broadened. She couldn’t help it. “The Boss, of course.”

Eyebrows and ears shot up in tandem, only to fall again as his expression turned suspecting. “Really? Pony not lying?”

“Feel free to contact him if you wish,” she replied easily. “He’ll corroborate my statement. And while you’re at it, you can let him know I promise to visit again as soon as I can. He was such a sweetheart.”

Mr. Fluffed didn’t lose his suspecting demeanor. “Dog will do that. Pony have any more questions? Dog is busy.”

Rarity wanted to ask more questions, but she’d already asked the ones she’d pre-prepared. She stood for a moment, her eyes scanning the room. The pictures, Cherry observing her nails disinterestedly, the water barrels… nothing new came to mind. She kept her expression neutral, businesslike, but she couldn’t help feeling as though there should be more questions. Mr. Fluffed was starting to look impatient though, so at last she shook her head. “I think I’ve got what I needed. Thank you so much for your time, sir.”

“Of course. Mr. Fluffed always happy to help ponies.” By his gruff tone, she doubted he meant her specifically. “Have a good evening, Ms. Rarity.” He returned to his office, more rigid in poise than he’d been coming out. Rarity hoped he really did try to contact Spike about her. She hadn’t meant to ruffle his fur, not really, and it wouldn’t do to get on his bad side.

As they left the bank, Flintlock scratched his head and frowned. “Okay, I have no idea what that achieved. Seemed like a waste of time to me.”

“On the contrary,” Rarity said while leading him down the street to the inn, “we’ve actually learned a lot. We know that Green Talon recently got an extra boost to his income that his wife either doesn’t know about or doesn’t want to divulge. We also learned that Mayor Wine and Mr. Fluffed are colluding together on something, although I admit that may not have anything to do with Cranky’s case.”

Flintlock cocked his head, his confusion evident. “How do you figure that second one?”

Rather than answer, she asked something she probably should have gone for a while back. “Was Green Talon particular about who he allowed onto his land?”

“What does that have to do with…?” He sighed and shook his head. “Whatever. Green didn’t care if ponies came to visit, except at night. He didn’t like ponies waking his lizards up and making them nervous.”

Rarity paused, her gaze turning west. The sun had already disappeared over the Sunpeaks, casting the town in a deep shadow, but she guessed they had another hour of daylight left. “Only at night, hmm?”





Rarity would be the first to admit that she was basing her actions entirely off speculation. She’d found nothing concrete to prove that Green Talon was anything more than a stallion protecting his land and lizards from what he thought was a bandit. But the presence of the shield still bothered her, and she didn’t trust the situation with the mayor and Mr. Fluffed. The whole thing seemed odd, especially with the mayor buying up land that would do her no good in the long run. Throw in the river mysteriously running dry, and Rarity smelled a scheme.

It was all conjecture. She knew that. But something told her these were more than just peculiar circumstances. Cranky agreed, though he’d had reservations regarding her plan to stake out the abandoned mine that night. Not that he had any means of stopping her. Cell bars made that somewhat difficult.

So Rarity hid on a nearby hilltop, lying on the ground at just the right spot to be able to peek over at the mine entrance. There weren’t any good hiding places save amongst some low-lying rocks, but it would serve for her purposes. She’d chosen a hill relatively close to the mine, but in a direction that would allow her to look in the direction of the town at the same time. It didn’t give her a good view of the mine entrance itself, but here she’d be able to see anypony coming from town long before they saw her, assuming they ever did.

Her entire plan banked on there being something hidden in the mines, probably related to why the underground river dried up. If she was wrong in that guess, then she had no idea what she’d do. Even so, the bank lending the town money it couldn’t pay back to buy land? She had to believe there was some ulterior motive involved. Since she doubted Spike would be in on something like that, Mr. Fluffed was now suspect.

She’d kept Flintlock out of the loop, of course. He knew too many ponies. His parents would miss him if he left the house tonight, she was sure. Plus he was too trusting. What if he mentioned her intentions to the wrong ponies? No, better to go it alone tonight.

She’d not been alone in over a week. She’d almost forgotten what it was like. Lying there in the dirt, alternating between watching the mine and taking in the night sky, she couldn’t decide her feelings on the matter. Being alone was safe and quiet, giving her a certain sense of security and the comfort to do her own thing without much worry.

And yet, it was a bit lonely. Especially after a week of the talkative colt. It was almost too bad she didn’t intend to let him follow her around like some lovesick puppy.

Time passed. The moon made its slow way across the sky, giving her an easy method of judging the time. Rarity thought about her plans here, about Cranky in his cell, about Flintlock and how lucky he was to be alive. Her mind drifted to Sweetie and Coco, wondering if they were staring up at the same moon. It felt as though they were gradually getting farther and farther away from her reach. But what was she to do, leave Cranky to hang?

At times like this, she felt miserably lost. Her parents were counting on her. Her sister and Coco would be waiting. Did they have any idea she was following their trail? Maybe they’d given up hope, resigning themselves to service under the Bad Apple Gang. And what did that service entail? Rarity’s thoughts drifted to Braeburn and how his hands groped her breast. The memory sent shivers down her spine and made her hackles rise. If those bastards so much as looked at Sweetie the wrong way…

No. They’d be fine. The Gang had to know that the only thing that would draw Rarity to them was her sister and Coco. They wouldn’t kill or harm them, not until they had her. She wanted to believe it. She made herself believe it. The alternative was too painful to contemplate, so she chose not to.

She forced her thoughts to a new direction, specifically her current task. Not a soul had shown up so far, aside from the sand lizards dozing nearby. She wondered if Ophelia was still laying where she’d been earlier. Rarity had taken a circumferential route here to avoid the townsponies guessing her intentions, and so hadn’t been to the other side of the hill where Green Talon had died. Thinking of the poor sand lizard renewed her determination to get to the bottom of things, and so she refocused her attention on the mine.

And just in time, for she spotted figures walking towards the opening. Pressing herself flat against the ground, Rarity strained her ears in hopes of catching anything they might say. Oh, why didn’t she know an eavesdropping spell? Not that she could use one now.

The moon was only half-full tonight, but that gave her enough light to recognize what she was seeing. The leader was a big earth pony, easily the size of her father. There was no softness on him though; all muscle and brawn. Behind him was a much smaller pony, long-legged and gangly. Rarity remembered seeing him on the streets of town, though only in passing. Locals, then.

The third pony was a unicorn of average size. She wasn’t Starlight Glimmer or Ripe cherry, so by process of elimination it had to be Mayor Red Wine. Her face was impossible to see in this lighting and the distances involved, but her slightly hunched posture and rapid steps suggested anxiety. Curious. The other two didn’t share that, though they did maintain a brisk pace. The lanky one seemed agitated, his shoulders hunched and his steps more like stomps. The trio soon disappeared inside the mine, leaving Rarity to ponder her next move.

Well, she wouldn’t learn anything lying around up here. Steeling her nerves, she got up and jogged for the mine, one hand hovering over Silver Lining just in case. Nopony came back out. Once she deemed herself close enough, she dropped her speed to a cautious, creeping walk. Her ears remained perked and aimed forward, just waiting for some sign that they were near the entrance.

At last, she reached the opening. She had thought it dark before. It was like a black wall now, such that she might think it solid if not for past experience. Ever so carefully, she poked her head around the side and peered into the shadows. Far down the tunnel was the glow of the mayor’s horn, partially blocked by the mare’s body. What were they doing down there?

The shield didn’t belong to the mayor, her magical aura was violet. Were they trying to break through? Just investigating? No, it couldn’t be that second one, not this time of night. She watched as the three ponies came to a stop and turned to their right. Rarity could only assume they’d reached the shield.

They were speaking, but the distance combined with the cave’s echoing prevented her from making any sense of their words. Dared she get closer? Yes, yes she did. She crept inside, ignoring the little pony in her head whimpering about the close quarters. She was in control this time, and no silly fears of being trapped in an underground maze would stop her. She stepped with extreme caution, rolling her hooves along the ground to keep the boots from clopping.

“What do you mean, you can’t break it?”

She froze, hand on Silver Lining.

“I mean I can’t break it. This thing’s way beyond my skill. The Sheriff did too good a job. You do know she went to the most prestigious magical school in Equestria, right?”

“Come on, Red. We need this path open! There ain’t any others. Believe me, we’ve been searchin’ all over these damned hills.”

“I know, Knuckles. Believe me, I want in there just as much as you do.”

“Well then, figure something out!”

Rarity couldn’t tell which male voice belonged to which stallion. Both were fairly deep, although one had a slight Mareami accent. Without Mayor Wine’s distinctly feminine tone she’d have had no idea who was speaking.

“Look, my special talent is cards, not shields, and just because two spells are ‘shield spells’ doesn’t mean they work in the same way. This thing is like a master artist’s mosaic on a cathedral ceiling, and I’m a mere muzzle painter!”

“I got no idea what that means. Can’t you think of somethin’?”

The Mayor hesitated. “We could dig another tunnel?”

“Or we could just ask Sheriff Glimmer to drop the shield.”

“Not gonna happen,” grunted Mareami. “She’s been on edge ever since Talon got his ass shot by that fucking donkey. Until things have cooled down, she won’t budge on the shield.”

The other stallion grumbled and stomped. “So what the hay are we supposed to do in the meantime?”

The three stood in silence, all of them facing the shield that was beyond Rarity’s sight. She shifted her position, placed a hand on the wall, and waited for more.

“We wait,” Mayor Red said. “Once the donkey is removed and there’s no more attention out here, we’ll probably be able to convince her to drop the shield. This place doesn’t do us any good until everypony’s moved out of town anyway. We can afford to let it sit idle.”

“I don’t know,” muttered Mr. Non-Accent. “That doesn’t seem safe. What if the wall breaks because nopony was down there to keep an eye on it?”

“The wall’s not going to break,” Mayor Wine snapped.

“We can’t take that risk, Red,” Mareami countered calmly. “I think we should tell the boss.”

“Yeah, I like that idea.”

The light in the tunnel shifted as the mayor shrugged her shoulders. “That’s fine. Your boss would know better than us, after all. We should focus on expediting that donkey’s removal from town though.”

“And why doesn’t the Sheriff just hang him again?”

“Some archaic law nopony cares about. I can’t blame her. After what she had to put up with back in Seaddle, she’s gotta tread lightly.” The Mayor added in a low voice Rarity barely made out, “This does seem a bit extreme, though.”

Mareami scoffed. “Why don’t we just start a mob? Still enough people in town for that. Raid the jail, string him up. Sheriff can’t well stop everypony at once, yeah?”

“Don’t even think about it,” the mayor hissed. “We’ve got that outsider snooping around, and we can’t let this town become the center of attention until after everypony’s moved out.”

“Speaking of that outsider,” Non-Accent cheerfully said, “You seen the flanks on her? I say we make her ‘disappear’, and have some fun with her while we’re at it. No outsider, no investigation. Donkey leaves faster.”

“We don’t have to deal with the…” The light shifted. “Who’s there?”

It took every ounce of willpower Rarity had not to curse. It proved a moot point, because already she could see all three ponies headed her way. How had they noticed her? Thinking fast, she whipped out Silver Lining and took a couple shots, intentionally aiming wide. Her ploy worked; all three dove for cover around the corner. This was all the opportunity she needed to turn tail and flee.

It didn’t take much to realize why they’d seen her, and she felt stupid for not considering her silhouette against the light of the mine’s mouth. Even in the dark of night, there would have been enough light to make her visible. She just had to hope they weren’t—

Shots rang out, and Rarity heard the disturbing sound of bullets zipping past. Fortunately, they’d waited until she was practically outside, and she promptly made for the hill ahead. If she could hide out here somewhere… but where?

There was always the option of turning to fight, but Rarity didn’t dare. Cranky had defended himself and was now in a jail cell. If she’d heard those three correctly, Sheriff Glimmer was in on whatever the heck was going on in this town, so it behooved her to keep as within the law as she possibly could under the circumstances. But where to go?

Her legs pumped as she ascended the slope of the hill. A glance back revealed that her pursuers hadn’t left the mine yet. She crested the hill safe in her anonymity… for now. But she couldn’t keep running like this, they’d see her! Where was she supposed to—

Ophelia still lay on the side of the hill. She watched as Rarity approached at a sprint, eyes narrowed as if in suspicion. The creature was curled up, undoubtedly for sleep.

Thinking on her hooves, Rarity went straight for the Dust Devil. She slowed upon reaching it. “Ophelia, I know you’re probably not in the mood to accommodate, but I really need this.” Hoping she wouldn’t be rewarded with aggression, she hopped over the lizard’s tail and nestled herself within the circle it had made of itself. The fit was tight, but it allowed Rarity to hide herself fairly well within the large beast’s form.

Ophelia stared at her. Nothing else, just stared. Perhaps she was trying to make sense of what had just happened. Her head shifted to look towards the hilltop, from which Rarity could hear rushed hoofsteps. Both guns tight against her chest, Rarity prepared for a fight even as she held as still as she could. If they got too close to Ophelia from downhill they’d be able to see her. But only if they got close. Please, Ophelia, don’t choose now to get up!

As the hoofsteps got closer, Rarity listened to her own heartbeat. It seemed disproportionately loud, so she knew she should be reacting differently. Yet she remained calm, taking slow breaths and keeping a steady eye on her surroundings.

The necklace had warmed up again. Keeping her calm. She really would have to thank Coco when they were reunited.

The voice of Non-Accent arose. “Damn it, that pony’s fast! Did you get a good look at him?”

“Naw.” The unmistakably loud and disgusting sound of Mareami spitting. “Didn’t see anything but a shape. Who the fuck’s snooping around out here?”

A heavy wheezing announced the arrival of the mayor. “Don’t just stand around, search the ranch! She can’t have gotten far. I don’t care who she is, nopony can sprint like that for long.”

Rarity was inclined to agree, but she was pleased to note to herself that she only felt a little winded. Her new life of roaming Equestria was doing wonders for her stamina, it seemed. Reminding herself that she was supposed to be paying attention, she forced her ears flat against her skull and waited for when one of them choose to look within Ophelia’s rolled up form.

One pair of hoofsteps left at a jog, but Mareami spoke up. “You know who it was?”

“Of course I do,” Mayor Wine snapped between heaving breaths. “Who else? It had to be that drifter mare. I bet she decided to stake out the mine and left town to the south to fool us into thinking otherwise.”

Great, Rarity’s investigation just got a lot harder. Odds were nopony in town would want to talk to her now.

“I can see that,” Mareami grumbled. “Alright, we find her and we kill her. Nice and quiet like. No witnesses.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me. Now go, she has to be around here somewhere.”

Hoofsteps bounded off. Rarity started to relax… until she heard a pair approaching. The pony was coming from uphill, so she’d be fine as long as they stayed up there. But if they walked around…

“Ophelia.” It was Mayor Wine, and she sounded legitimately concerned. “Why are you still up here, girl? I know you liked Talon, but this is getting ridiculous.”

The sand lizard trilled, its head unseen by Rarity as it was looking in the wrong direction. Which was fine by her; let it distract the mayor and keep her hidden.

“Still can’t believe that fool got himself killed. By a worthless donkey, no less! I wish he’d listened to me and trained some of you lizards to guard the mines. His kids would have been fine.” Mayor Wine sighed. “We’ll find you a new owner when this is all over, okay? Somepony who will treat you as well as he did. I don’t trust the brutes around here to be gentle with anything, much less a lady like you.”

Ophelia snorted and turned her face back towards Rarity, though she didn’t look at the pony nestled against her scales. She settled her head to the ground and closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the mayor whispered. “I’ll leave you alone now. Got a nosey unicorn to string up, anyway.”

At last, Rarity found herself alone with the lizard. She didn’t relax for some time, certain that one of the ponies could return at any moment. After what seemed an eternity, she allowed herself to loosen up. Her hands were cramped from how long they’d been clenched around her pistols, and she massaged them after the guns were put away. Eventually she permitted herself to unfold from within Ophelia, though she took caution to check her surroundings before getting up to stretch. A line of pops made their way down her back as she did.

“Thank you, Ophelia, for being accommodating.” She reached down to scratch at the lizard’s frills, only to realize it had fallen asleep. Smiling to herself, Rarity settled for a seat with her back to the creature’s warm body. She wasn’t about to head back to town now, not when she knew there were ponies hunting for her. No, her best bet would be to stay here until morning. A pity she’d left all her supplies at the inn or with Cerulean in the stable.

She took the time to consider all that she knew. The mayor was clearly one of the ringleaders of this little scheme. Given what they’d said in the mine, the sheriff was probably the ringleader. She was powerful, and Rarity doubted the weave of that shield could have been put together by a dumb pony. And it appeared the mayor and her two goons weren’t willing to cross her.

Her heart sank as a new realization struck her: they suspected she was on to them and their leader had Cranky locked in a cell. She was in a hostage situation all over again! She pressed her hands against her forehead and resisted the urge to scream. What was it with her and hostage situations? All the investigating in the world wouldn’t matter at all if the enforcer of the law in this town was herself a criminal!

But she was getting ahead of herself. She didn’t even know what the crime was. There had to be a crime, though, otherwise why plan to kill her for snooping around?

“This is all going too fast, and I’m out of my element,” she muttered, letting the back of her head rest against Ophelia’s side and staring up at the stars. The moon shone amongst them like a queen over her subjects. Rarity raised her arm to look at the charm Marble had gifted her. “Princess Luna, if you can hear me, I could really use some advice right now.”

Her body felt heavy from weariness. She’d not slept since arriving in Bitter Ergot, and her frustrated thoughts didn’t help matters. Look at her, running around town as if she knew what she was doing. She was a fashionista and drifter, not a detective. Cranky was depending on her? What a joke.

“Stop it, Rarity,” she muttered, settling into a more relaxed position against Ophelia. “You aren’t helping matters. You can remember how crummy your life has gotten later.”

Except that she didn’t have a clue what to do next. Break Cranky out of jail? Confront the mayor? Deal with the sheriff?

Yes, Rarity, resort to bloodshed. It’s gotten you out of so many bad situations, hasn’t it?

She scowled, resolving to find some other means of dealing with this one. She’d fight when she had to, not before. Something better was required, and she wouldn’t be thinking of it now. What she needed was sleep. Experience had taught her what going without that could lead to.

And so she resigned herself to getting some shuteye, hoping the mayor and her goons wouldn’t come back while she was helpless. At least they’d already been here, so they had no reason to return. And Ophelia was a rather pleasant sleeping partner, what with her body heat protecting Rarity from the cold night.

Yes. Things would be clearer in the morning.
> Episode 19: Bitter Ergot, Part II
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


57th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


The good news: nopony had found Rarity sleeping next to the delightfully warm Ophelia that night.

The bad news: things were not at all clearer. In fact, the rising sun woke her to a dreadful sense of finality. Cranky was still in jail, and she had no idea how she was going to get him out. He was in the wolf’s den. Rarity had enough of an ego to accept that she was a skilled gunpony, but humble enough to know better than to take on the mage capable of producing that shield in the mines. Bullets meant nothing against somepony like that.

She pondered her options while stretching out the kinks brought on by sleeping on the hard ground while squeezed within a Dust Devil’s curled form. She couldn’t just abandon Cranky to his fate, even if he encouraged her to do so – and he would. Going to Hoofington for assistance was out of the question, as it would put an end to her pursuit of Sweetie and Coco. This problem needed resolving, and it needed resolving today.

If she went into town, would she be attacked? Maybe. They had no proof she’d been out here, but they’d probably know she’d never returned to the inn last night. And with Cerulean still in the stables, they’d know she was out and about somewhere nearby. What would she do if ponies started shooting the moment she was back at Bitter Ergot?

She glanced at Ophelia, who watched her with a lone eye. “Pardon my language, Darling, but this entire situation sucks.”

Ophelia let out a low rumble and shifted her head a little closer to Rarity. She had the vague impression that the creature was agreeing. And pleading. She indulged the lizard, reaching down to scratch behind her frills. Ophelia’s eye rolled back and she let out a complacent trill. Her mouth widened in a grin full of small, sharp teeth. Rarity had never seen a sand lizard – any sand lizard – make such an expression. She smiled and decided to put both hands to the task. “Oh, you’re just precious, aren’t you? Far more pleasant than that sourpuss Cerulean.”

“What are you doing out here?”

She went for Silver Lining, whipping around in the direction of the voice. She restrained herself upon seeing Green Talon’s youngest son, a colt of maybe twelve years, standing not far from her. He carried in both his green hands a large metal bucket full of lizard feed. He studied her with an innocent curiosity, apparently not bothered at all by her aggressive reaction.

“I’m, uh…” Rarity’s mind ran circles. “…here?”

The boy nodded slowly, as if accepting some great wisdom. “Were you ‘here’ all night?”

“Er…” She shifted in place, letting go of Silver Lining in favor of rubbing her necklace. That calm comfort was nowhere to be found, of course. “Yes?”

“Huh.” As if he’d learned all he needed to, he made his way to Ophelia. He had to waddle due to the weight of his bucket, taking big, slow steps that made his dark green ponytail sway. Paying Rarity little mind and not so much as grunting with the effort, he eventually deposited the bucket before the lizard, who promptly dug in. That task complete, the boy clapped his hands as if to free them of dirt and turned to Rarity. “Knuckle Head and Sizzle Teeth were looking for you last night.”

Knuckle Head and Sizzle Teeth? Those poor colts, no wonder they’d gone bad. Assuming they were who she thought they were, that is. With a sigh, she stepped over Ophelia’s tail. “Did they say why?”

He shrugged. “Only heard half of what they said. Say, are you really a drifter gunslinger?”

Rarity raised an eyebrow at the child’s directness. “And who told you that?”

Another shrug. It seemed to be his go-to response. “Ponies in town. They say you and that donkey that supposedly killed Dad are friends.”

Supposedly? “We are,” she admitted, seeing no advantage in denying it. “Does that bother you?”

“Nope.” The answer came quick and without any emotional baggage. “He killed Dad, not you. Or so they say.”

There it was again! This time Rarity couldn’t just dismiss it. She knelt down to look the colt in the eye. “You don’t think he killed your father?”

“Oh, no. He did it,” he replied, and his expression darkened. It was a subtle thing; a faint furrowing of the brow, a slight bit of tension in the shoulders. “But I don’t think he’s a bad guy, either.” He leaned forward to peer at her. “So, are you a drifter gunslinger?”

If he wanted to be direct, she’d be direct right back. She pulled her vest aside to reveal Ruby Heart. “Yes, though I don’t want to be.”

His eyes locked onto the gun, his expression caught somewhere between concern and awe. That didn’t stop him from blurting out, “Why?”

She was starting to like this little guy. Rarity had never been fond of children, but his directness and honesty were refreshing. “Because having ponies try to kill you isn’t fun at all, and neither is killing them. What’s your name?”

“Line Walker.” His eyes flicked to hers. “Are you gonna get our water back?”

And just like that, Rarity wished this conversation were over. She cringed and let her vest fall back into place. “What makes you think I could?”

“Because Dad said the water is just turned off. He said he’d turn it back on later.”

By Luna’s starry mane, talking to this boy was like being thrown around by a tornado! Rarity leaned closer, heart pounding at this sudden revelation. “Did he happen to say how?”

That shrug nearly toppled her from her momentary pillar of hope, but she didn’t fall off just yet. “Then did he say why it had been turned off?”

Line Walker’s little face, now mere inches from Rarity’s, scrunched up as he thought about his answer. “Dad said when the water came back, we wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. Said the mayor would make us all happy.”

So Rarity’s suspicions had been right: Green Talon had been in on the scheme. But she still didn’t know what the scheme was! And Line Walker probably wasn’t privy to it beyond his father’s casual conversations intended to cheer the family up. She was convinced that mine held some sort of secret now more than ever, and it had to be something involving why the town’s river had dried up.

But that didn’t answer why the water was so important to the sheriff’s scheme.

“Uh, lady?”

She blinked, realized she was still practically muzzle-to-muzzle with Line Walker, and promptly stood up. “Sorry about that. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Oh.” Line Walker rubbed his hands together in an anxious display. “Are you gonna bust your friend out of jail?”

Rarity chuckled bitterly. “I don’t think I’m quite good enough a gunslinger to do that, Darling.”

“Oh,” he repeated, this time with a look of disappointment. “Drat. Thought I’d get to see a fight.”

You might yet. Sighing, she turned her gaze towards the hill that hid the town. “Were Knuckle Head and Sizzle Teeth angry? Will I be in trouble if I go back?”

Again with that noncommittal shrug. “Dunno. They did seem a little mad, but they’re always like that. I think it’s because they work for the mayor.”

That was hardly encouraging. She had a chance of getting into town without being an immediate target, at least. From where she stood now, she didn’t see any way of avoiding it. She had to talk to Cranky, get his input. She couldn’t figure this out on her own. She reached down to unbutton the safety on Silver Lining’s holster, then did the same with Ruby Heart.

“Can I come?”

She eyed the colt, who was now staring at Silver Lining as if it were some holy relic. “Are you that eager to see a gunfight, Line Walker?”

“Walker,” he sharply replied. “And yes. This town’s boring.”

So much for dissuading him with simple reasoning. Boys will be boys. Crossing her arms and giving him a stern look, she replied, “I’m afraid you’ll have to ask your mother. I wouldn’t dream of making the decision for her.”

He groaned and started rubbing his hands again. “She’ll say no. She always says no to the good stuff.”

“Smart mare.” Rarity patted him on the head and was rewarded with a scowl that made her grin. “Well, I’m going to head back now. You’d best hurry along if you want to get your mother’s permission before any of the ‘fun’ starts.”

He gave a little snort and crossed his arms, sulking. “Ain’t no way she’ll let me go.”

“You never know until you try.” She gave a little wave and turned away. “Tata.”

She got about five steps away before something bumped her shoulder. Startled out of her thoughts before they could properly form, she turned back to see Ophelia standing behind her. The sand lizard stared at her expectantly. “What’s this?”

“Whoa!” Line Walker ran up to her side and reached up to Ophelia. The lizard indulged him, lowering her head so he could rub the tip of her nose. “She got up. She hasn’t been away from that spot since Dad died.”

Rarity might have smiled at this were she not so confused. “That’s lovely, Darling, but why is she nuzzling me?” When she took a few steps back Ophelia promptly took one step in pursuit, easily making up the distance. “Is she… following me?”

“Huh.” The colt looked between her and the Dust Devil a few times, rubbing his hands as he did. “You were here all night, right?”

Ophelia pressed her nose against Rarity’s stomach and trilled. Perplexed, Rarity took the hint and rubbed the creature’s face and chin. “I was. She was quite warm.”

Line Walker’s shoulders sagged. “I guess she liked the company. Maybe she wants to be with you now.”

The lizard made a rumbling hum of a sound. It reminded Rarity of a cat purring. She frowned at Ophelia, who had her eyes closed and that silly, toothy smile. “But I already have a Dust Devil. And I wouldn’t want to take her from you.”

“Take her?” Line Walker shook his head, even as he stroked Ophelia’s side. “Ophy was Dad’s. Dad’s gone. I think she can pick who she’s with.”

“And what would your mother say about that?” Rarity asked firmly, despite how she continued to rub at the lizard’s face. It was oddly therapeutic, like the act alone was enough to lessen her worries a little.

“Don’t think Ophy cares what Mom thinks,” Line Walker replied in his ever-straightforward manner.

Oh, this just wouldn’t do! Slowly, Rarity released Ophelia’s face and began to step away. The sand lizard’s eyes opened wide to watch her. She got five steps away before Ophelia began to follow, uttering a soft trill as she did. Rarity stopped, and Ophelia’s nose was against her belly once more.

Line Walker met her glance with a wan smile. “She really seems to like you.”

Heaving a sigh, Rarity rubbed the lizard’s chin some more and listened to that rumbling purr. “Yes, it seems she does.” What in Equestria was she going to do with two Dust Devils?

“Just go,” the colt grumbled. “I’ll tell Mom she’s following you around. We’ll wrangle her back to the ranch later.”

That seemed like a lot of extra work for little reward, but Rarity had no time to dally around the area waiting for the boy’s family to corral the beast. With yet another sigh, she nodded. “Very well. Please tell your mother that I am deeply sorry for the imposition.”

“Eyup.” With one last pat of the lizard’s flank, Line Walker turned and went to pick up his bucket. Rarity, not wanting to lose any more time, started immediately for town. Ophelia followed, her head ever close to Rarity’s shoulder.

“You are giving me one more headache, you know that?” But Rarity couldn’t resist smiling and scratching beneath the lizard’s jaw, earning her an affectionate trill. “But I suppose I’ll forgive you.”

She had to admit, it was nice having a Dust Devil around that was friendly. She wondered if Mrs. Talon would be interested in a trade.





By the time they reached Bitter Ergot proper, Rarity had come up with no ideas beyond heading straight for the jailhouse and talking to Cranky. How fortunate, then, that her worst fears went unrealized. The few ponies wandering the dirt roads this morning didn't flee as if expecting a fight. Indeed, they paid her little mind at all, going about their business like normal. Assuming ‘dreary’ counted as normal. There wasn’t a smiling face in sight! Then again, what should she expect when the town was dying?

Since nopony seemed interested in shooting her this morning, Rarity allowed herself to relax just a little. She couldn’t consider herself entirely out of the woods though. She still had a sheriff to contend with, and any henchponies she might have with her at the station. That was an encounter Rarity wasn’t looking forward to.

No greeting, violent or otherwise, occurred when she stepped onto the porch of the police station. She took that as a bad sign.

Ophelia made a snort, not following her onto the porch. Seemed she was smart enough to know better. Feeling a touch guilty, Rarity stepped back and rubbed the tip of the lizard’s muzzle. “Don’t worry, Darling. I’ll be out before you know it.” One way or another. This seemed to placate Ophelia some, for she settled onto her belly and watched Rarity expectantly. Guessing she’d done all she could, Rarity returned her attention to the door before her.

What would be waiting on the other side? An ambush? Or perhaps that wouldn’t be necessary. Sheriff Glimmer was clearly a powerful unicorn. Perhaps she wouldn’t need more than her own horn to fight Rarity. And how would Rarity fight back?

The bitter reality was that she had no idea. She was used to fighting ponies with guns, not magic. Her own was geared almost entirely to levitation, though she was getting fairly decent at basic shields. She doubted that would be of much use against a pony like Starlight Glimmer.

Her stomach churned. She took her air in slow breaths. Looking down at her necklace, she whispered, “If you are some powerful ancient relic like Spike says, now would be a good time to give me some special assistance.” The necklace offered no response, of course.

But she still felt a little calmer. Raising her head high and sucking down one last breath, she gripped Silver Lining. “Alright, Rarity. Let’s do this. For Cranky.”

All that preparation had her ready to face just about anything… except what she met on the other side of the door. Which was nothing. Nopony waiting for her, no wall of guns, no magical fireball attempting to fry her where she stood. The sheriff’s office was calm, quiet, and empty.

With a disdainful sniff, Rarity used her magic to close the door behind her. “This is a lot more disappointing than it should be.” She really was getting too accustomed to this gunslinger role. She imagined Line Walker would have been most displeased with these results.

Granted, just because the sheriff wasn’t at the front of the building didn’t mean she wasn’t inside of it at all. Keeping a hand on Silver Lining, she prowled towards Starlight Glimmer’s office to the left. The place was neat and tidy. Starlight was a fastidiously clean and organized individual, or so it seemed from the few times Rarity had met her.

Stopping at the door, she leaned in and tried to listen for any movement on the other side. She was met with silence. After granting a considerable amount of time to make sure she wasn’t getting tricked in some way, she pulled open the door. The office was as empty as the lobby.

Had she somehow arrived when Starlight was out and about? Talk about lucky. That luck wouldn’t last, and the little pony in the back of Rarity’s head told her to hurry before it ran out. For once, she decided to follow its advice, moving quickly for the door leading to the cells in the back. The next big surprise was that the door was unlocked. Starlight had made a great show of locking and unlocking it when Rarity had visited before, giving her the impression that it was always locked.

The little pony got very quiet. Rarity didn’t blame her. For the first time since stepping on the porch, she was no longer worried about herself. She pushed the door open, cringing at the noisy squeak of the hinges. Couldn’t the sheriff have been just as fastidious about keeping the thing oiled? She paused just long enough to ensure nopony would open fire due to the noise, then stepped inside.

There was nothing unusual about the three cells. In fact, everything was as normal as could be. Cranky lay on his cot in the corner, hands clasped on his belly as he stared at the ceiling. When she approached, he turned his head to look at her and gained a smarmy smile that froze her in place. “Didn’t catch ya, I see.”

Grasping the bars, she asked, “Who didn’t catch me?”

“Them hired guns.” He shifted, set his hands behind his head, stared up at the ceiling once more. “Two of them. Looked mean and acted mean, but none too bright. Wanted to see if you’d come by sometime last night. Couldn’t get anything from me, so they ran off.”

A niggling feeling in the pit of her stomach led her to ask, “And the sheriff?”

“Glimmer?” He scowled, an expression that seemed far more appropriate on his wrinkled visage. “Naw, she wasn’t with them. Why?”

“If those goons you spoke to are who I think they are, then they caught me snooping around the old mine back at Green Talon’s place.” Noting his uncertain expression, she elaborated, “There was one right over the hill where you killed him. An abandoned mine, along the path you were taking from the river cave. I think the sheriff and her minions are planning something related to it.”

That made him sit up, albeit slowly. He swung his legs over the side of his cot and rubbed his chin. “Can you get in?”

She shook her head. “There’s a magical shield over it. Pretty sure the sheriff put it up, hence her probable involvement. In fact,” she added, looking him in the eye, “I think she’s behind everything. But I still don’t know what ‘everything’ entails. I was hoping you could help me with that.”

Cranky huffed and scratched at his left ear, making it flap about a bit. “Great. I stumbled into something I never meant to stumble into. This is what I get for trying to help ponies out a little. Tell me what you know.”

So she did, detailing her stake out of the mine and subsequent spying on the mayor and her two henchponies. It wasn’t a very long story, partially because she was trying to hurry lest the sheriff return. She also swiftly mentioned her other discoveries, including why she suspected the sheriff and Mr. Fluffed were in on it. She left out the part where she spent all night snuggled up to a pleasantly friendly sand lizard who was now following her around like a lost puppy.

He listened intently, only interrupting once or twice to ask a few brief questions. When it was all said and done, he nodded to himself. “Well, the scheme’s obvious. I’ve seen or heard of it being tried in at least three different places, but this is the first time I’ve seen it with water. Thought Hollow Shades was one, but I don’t think so anymore.”

She glowered at his confidence. “Glad you find it so easy. Would you care to enlighten me?”

“I would.” He reached into a pocket of his coat and pulled out an extract stick, them started rummaging through his other pockets for a lighter. When his search proved fruitless, he sighed. “I’d ask you for a light, but I know how you feel about these things.”

Her horn lit up, and she conjured just the slightest hint of orange magic. The spell arranged, she cast it, engulfing the end of his stick in the tiniest flash of blue. The tip promptly glowed a bright red and wafted smoke. “There you go.”

He blinked, eyed the stick’s tip, then took a small puff. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“One of the tricks I learned while on the road,” she answered with a smile. “It was after I lost my matches in a sandstorm. Had to learn to make fire myself or freeze to death at night.”

He nodded, took another puff. “You’re adapting better than I thought you would, kid. I’m impressed.” He tapped away some ash directly onto the floor. “Now, the scheme. Basically, it’s land fraud. The water goes away, everypony has to leave. The town buys the land for dirt cheap under the guise of helping the ponies resettle. Once the whole place is emptied out, voila, water’s back! A prime trade hub is back in business, and the town can sell the land to new prospective owners for ten times what they paid.”

Rarity heard it, but she wasn’t sure she bought it. “Wait, that’s the scheme? I don’t know…”

He eyed her as if she might be holding back some dark secret. “What? You got somethin’ better?”

“No,” she admitted, sagging against the bars. “But it just seems ridiculous. There’s nothing here, Cranky. It’s just a little town. Why would ponies flock back?”

“The water is everything, kid,” he replied after taking another puff. “On this passage there ain’t any places to stop for a top off of the old H-two-oh before the next big settlement, and that’s more than a week away by sand lizard. This place is important. Without it, ponies will have to either invest in bigger caravans to handle the extra water load or take longer routes to Dodge Junction with better water access. You better believe ponies will come back, and fast.”

The more she thought about it, the more Rarity agreed with his conclusions. The buyback would make the sheriff and her assistants rich, and Mr. Fluffed would look like a genius in Spike’s eyes for sticking around and not closing the branch. It all fit well with what she’d seen so far, right up to Green Talon telling his family they’d be living well soon.

“Alright,” she muttered. “So now we know what’s going on. The question is what we are going to do about it.”

Cranky blinked, blew smoke, and said, “You mean you want to do something about it? I thought you were just trying to get me outta here.”

“Of course I want that.” She stood up tall and flicked her mane, taking on a haughty manner. “But I’m not about to let the ponies of this town get kicked out and start life anew because of Sheriff Glimmer’s greed. It would be uncouth!” She met his gaze once more, her stance firm. “Will you help me?”

He studied her for a moment with a hard scowl, like he might be judging her. Rarity didn’t flinch. By this time in her life she’d faced far more intimidating things than his unpleasant demeanor. But then he smiled – twice in under an hour! She was starting to wonder what had happened to the Cranky she used to know.

“You’re really somethin’, Miss Belle. Alright, I’m in. If you can get me out of here, that is.”

She grinned and turned for the door. “I’ll be right back, then.”

Or so she’d thought. It was an easy enough idea to grab the keys to the cells and let Cranky out. That idea floundered when she proved unable to locate said keys. She searched everywhere! All the drawers, in obvious hiding spots, even places she knew were ridiculous, such as behind picture frames. It stood to reason that Sheriff Glimmer would have the keys on her person, but surely there had to be a spare set somewhere.

If there was, it was proving elusive, and Rarity was wasting time. She spent nearly an hour in her search, every minute of the clock driving her to greater highs in anxiety. She just knew that at any moment Sheriff Glimmer would step in and she’d have to either explain herself or get into a fight. She wasn’t ready for that yet; even if she won, it would be her word against the dead body of a major figure of the community. It was not something she expected to be able to win, not yet. She needed proof!

And she wanted Cranky out of that cell. Yet the more time ticked by, the more convinced she was that she’d not be able to pull that off. She went back to the cell block in defeat.

“I don’t suppose that bone sticking out of your head can be adapted to picking locks?” Cranky asked when she imparted the news to him. At her deadpan frown he issued a long, pained sigh and lay back on his cot. “Then I’m sorry, kid, but you’re on your own.”

“But I wanted your help!” She grabbed the bars and pressed cheeks to them, watching as he settled down in apparent comfort. “Just once, I’d like to know I’m doing things with some backup. I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do next.”

“Go back to the mine,” he replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If the sheriff isn’t here, maybe she went to put the shield down so her ponies can do what they need to down there.”

That… made a lot of sense, actually. It would certainly explain why Starlight hadn’t returned despite Rarity having been here for nearly two hours. “But what am I supposed to do against her magic, Cranky? She’s clearly my superior in that area. I don’t know that I can beat her one-on-one, and I’m sure she won’t be alone down there.”

He set his jaw and stared at the ceiling like it held a deep and troublesome puzzle. “Only a few ways to win those odds,” he said after a while. “You either take down the magic user first, or bring your own. I suppose some enchanted bullets can help, but I doubt you’ve got anything like that.”

“No,” Rarity grumbled, “I don’t.” She really wished she had some proper ruby-tipped ammunition for Ruby Heart.

Cranky’s voice took on a hard tone. “Then hit the sheriff first, before she can get a spell off. Catch her by surprise if you can.” He met her stare with a hard glare. “Shoot to kill. Anything less is too risky. You can do that, right?”

A heavy emptiness settled in Rarity’s gut. She recalled her flight from Hoofington, when her fighting had been less about survival and more about the need to hurt somepony. Was this the same thing? Maybe not on the surface. Maybe not at all. She didn’t like it regardless.

But if she had to, she had to. Starlight Glimmer’s scheme couldn’t be allowed to proceed. Ponies were not going to be forced to start over from scratch like she had, not if she could do something about it. She could only hope that this decision didn’t lead her down a dark path beyond redemption. She pulled out Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, studying them for a good while as the consequences of her intentions filtered through her mind.

“Cranky?” she whispered. “I’ve been drifting for a while now. I’ve killed more ponies than I care to admit. This feels different.” She looked to him, found him watching her as if he’d never seen her before. “If I do this, does that mean I’m a different pony? Have I gone from surviving drifter to gunfighter?”

He stood up once more, tall and firm and focused as his eyes met hers. “You’re talking about fighting for others instead of yourself. There’s only one pony in Equestria today who still does that.”

Rarity pondered that for a moment before his meaning hit her. “The Flaming Vermillion…”

He shook his head. “No, not her. She fights only for herself.” He stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “She’s an Apple. She’s the Apple. Granddaughter of the Mighty Celadon herself.”

“An Apple?” Rarity’s shoulders drooped. “Cranky, it’s the Apples who are out to kill me.”

“Not the point,” he countered with no less resolve. “The point is, gunfighters are a thing of the past. Ever since Ponyville, it’s been seen as too risky. The age of that sort of folk is over.”

Rarity looked to Silver Lining and Ruby Heart again, then back to him. “So… you’re saying this is a bad thing?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m saying that what you’re suggesting you’ll become is no safer than what you’ve been. It may even be worse. Ponies chase after you now because of a grudge and a bounty. Ponies chase after gunfighters because they can.” He reached through the bars to grip her arm. It wasn’t a tight hold. More reassuring than anything. “You don’t have to do that. This doesn’t mean you become that. Don’t jump into that lifestyle without giving it some serious thought.”

At this, Rarity could only smile. “Come now, Cranky. You see what I intend to do. Help these ponies without them even asking me to. Possibly die trying. If I’m doing it now, for no other reason than I’m here and think I can, what’s going to stop me from helping the next town that needs some outside assistance?”

At that, Cranky heaved another long sigh and turned away. “That’s the thing about gunfighters. They’ve all got bleeding hearts.” He started back for his cot.

Licking her lips, eyes on the back of his head, she whispered, “I met Moonlight Raven.” He went stiff. “Was she a bleeding heart too?”

He said nothing at first. She wished she could see his face, to know what he might be thinking. When he finally spoke, she detected a hint of pain in his words. “Sometimes I think her heart bled more than anypony’s. Beware you don’t end up the same way.”

He didn’t turn back. He didn’t have to. Rarity understood that the conversation was over without having to be shown or told. Quietly, she put away her weapons and left the cells. She was only a little disappointed when he declined to say anything before she was out the door. A final peek back at his cell showed he’d not moved from that spot, as if he’d been frozen in place.

Rarity was mildly surprised to find Ophelia still waiting for her outside the station. Indeed, the Dust Devil hadn’t moved from that spot at all. The lizard raised her head and fanned her short frills, that silly smile full of teeth appearing on her muzzle. Rarity indulged her by rubbing her snout, but her mood was too dour for it to help under the circumstances.

She noted Flintlock jogging towards her from across the street and had to repress a groan. The last thing she needed was him following her around! “Not now, Flintlock. I’ve got things to do.”

He paused, brows rising as a hurt expression crossed his face. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, not you,” she admitted, making her way to the stables. She’d want to have Cerulean outside the mine and ready for running if things went south. “Suffice to say it’ll be safer if you keep away.”

“Safer?” His hurt switched to concern in a heartbeat. “Are you about to get into a fight? Do you need help? I can go home and arm myself, we can—”

She turned on him so fast he almost fell in his hurry to stop. “The last time you aimed a gun at a pony, you could barely keep it pointed straight. This isn’t shooting at cans on a hill, this is shooting at ponies. It’s killing ponies. You are not ready for that, and hopefully you never will be.”

That said, she resumed her fast walk down the street, Ophelia hot on her tail. She hoped that her harshness would keep the boy at bay, but to her frustration he was soon back at her side. “Flintlock, what are you doing?”

He stared at her intently as they walked. “I’ve gotta help somehow. I still owe you for saving me out there.”

“I don’t expect you to do anything for me,” she countered hotly, her hand rubbing the nub on Silver Lining’s handle. “And what makes you think what I’m doing is even the right thing? For all you know, it could be illegal.”

His hand caught her arm. She turned to glare at him, but his serious expression didn’t budge. His forwardness was just enough to make her hesitate.

“I haven’t known you long,” he admitted, words steady and confident. “But I’ve seen enough to know that Rarity Belle, the Bulletproof Heart, only does things for the right reasons. If there’s something happening here, in my hometown, that you feel needs your intervention, then I’ll help. You would only want what’s best for Bitter Ergot.”

He had such a sweet, naïve view of her, didn’t he? If he knew what she’d done outside Hoofington… No, best not to bring that up. For now. There were other ways of dealing with this foolish colt.

“First of all, don’t call me that in public unless you want bad ponies after you. Second…” After taking a look around to see that nopony was in the area, she whipped out Silver Lining and pointed it at his head. Flintlock yelped and ducked, covering his face behind an arm.

Sighing, she replaced the gun and waited for him to dare to look at her again. “Second, if that’s the reaction you have to me pulling a gun on you, you won’t survive what is likely to happen in the next hour or so.” She strode past him, head held high. “Go home, boy. You aren’t ready.”

It seemed she’d finally got to him. She didn’t hear his hoofsteps behind her, and she didn’t look back in case such would encourage him. It was better off for both of them this way.

Such thoughts were dashed when he came running to her side again. She had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him. Not deigning to grant him even a glance, she acerbically asked, “Flintlock, what did I just say?”

“Won’t you at least tell me what you’re doing?”

“No.” She gave the word as much finality as she could pour into it. “That would take time, and I don’t have it.”

He rushed forward to stand before her, clearly intent on becoming a solid barrier. She’d dealt with that kind of thing before, easily sidestepping him without breaking her stride.

“Damn it, Rarity!” He was back at her side in less than a second. “Look, I get it, big bad warrior’s gotta go a-huntin’. But if you really are doing something illegal, don’t you think you need a witness at the very least?”

The suggestion dug deep into Rarity’s mind, scraping away all her defenses and reservations to find a single little chord that promptly went ‘snap’. It was like having a fireball explode in her brain. She whirled on him so fast he really did fall, which was good because if he hadn’t she’d have rammed into him. She stood over him, fists shaking and breath coming from between her teeth in sharp hisses.

“A witness?” It was a wonder the words didn’t come out as flames. “Is that what you think I am, boy? A glory hound hunting villains so that ponies can shout her name to the heavens as a hero? I don’t want this life. I want to go home and make dresses. I want to go back to my little shop in Spurhoof and never, ever look at a gun again. I want to go back to the time when I knew my most dangerous days were behind me and my greatest fear was seeing the disappointed faces of my parents. I wish that cursed Apple bastard hadn’t tried to rape me and my assistant and forced me to kill him in self-defense. And more than anything, I wish that stupid griffon had never shot me so that those Luna-damned buffalo had never spread the idea that there is such a thing as the fucking Bulletproof Heart!”

They stared at one another, him in wide-eyed shock and her a huffing engine losing its steam. Her shadow covered him, looming. She panted, mind empty now that her long-bottled fury had been let loose, if only for a moment. She spent as much time wondering what he would say as she did trying to re-apply the cork to her pent-up emotions. There could be no denying that letting herself go a bit felt good, though.

Her death-grip of Silver Lining reminded her of what would happen if she let it go on for too long.

At last, she looked up. The street was still wide open, but a few ponies had poked their heads out to watch the debacle. She cursed and backed away from Flintlock. “Wonderful, now everypony in town will know.” With a snort, she turned away from him, but didn’t start walking just yet. “Don’t follow me, Flintlock,” she snarled. “You don’t want to know what it’s like to be a threat to ponies around you just for saying ‘hello’.”

Not waiting for a response this time. She marched away, ignoring the eyes of the ponies upon her and the heavy steps of Ophelia at her back.

Flintlock didn’t appear at her side again.





Cerulean seemed pleased to be out of the stable. He wasn’t so pleased that Ophelia was following wherever they went. For her part, Ophelia didn’t seem to care about Cerulean’s cold staring one way or another. Rarity wondered why Mrs. Talon had never come along to corral Ophelia like Line Walker had said she would.

They soon reached the mine entrance. The Dust Devils probably could have fit inside even with her on them, but there would have been no room to maneuver them or turn around, so that was pointless. Besides, they would have made easy targets, and just the thought of another Piecazzo left her nauseous.

Piecazzo. She still hadn’t told Cranky what had happened to Piecazzo. The nausea came back threefold. But it was a problem for later. Right now she had a mine to investigate.

Of course, everything hinged around the idea that the shield had been lowered since last night. If it hadn’t, she’d mentally prepared herself for a fight for nothing. Still, she hadn’t seen head nor tail of Sheriff Glimmer. If that pony were out and about, Rarity had to assume she’d have come running to take Rarity down the instant her whereabouts were known to the public. Surely she had to be in the mine.

To her immense relief, Ophelia did not attempt to follow her inside. Was it proper training or an aversion to being indoors? No time to ponder that. Rarity focused her attention on the darkness ahead of her, moving slowly and with Silver Lining in hand. She wouldn’t have been surprised to find a guard at the shield this time, considering Starlight and her cohorts suspected she knew about it.

And yet, when she reached the corner and glanced through, Rarity found nothing. The shield was gone, but there was also nopony standing guard. Strange, she took Starlight as the type to be more cautious about such things. A mistake? A lack of horsepower?

A trap?

Banking on that third one, Rarity didn’t rush her way through the tunnels. Her ears remained perked, constantly swiveling about in search of noise. Her hoofsteps sounded inordinately loud in the darkness, but she had no means of masking the sound beyond her slow, careful steps. Steps that echoed. Steps that might give away her position. Steps that could go on forever…

Oh, Goddess, what if this was a trap? What if they watched her go in and raised the shield? She’d never get out. It’d be the Dragon’s Teeth all over again! She should go back, back before she got lost and—

“No,” she hissed, coming to an abrupt stop and closing her eyes tight. “Get ahold of yourself, Rarity. This isn’t the Dragon’s Teeth. You won’t be trapped. Sheriff Glimmer and her henchponies need something that is down here for their scheme. They wouldn’t seal it away just to get rid of you.”

She stood there for some time, taking slow, heavy breaths and fighting down the fear. Gradually, she opened her eyes and found she could see a little in the darkness now. That gave some relief, but only some. She had to move forward. Cranky was depending on her. An entire town needed her, whether they knew it or not.

And I need to stop talking to myself. I am trying to be sneaky, am I not?

Letting out a growl, Rarity snatched the little pony in the back of her head, hogtied and gagged her, then threw her into a closet labeled Abandoned Career. Maybe that would teach her a lesson about snark.

At last calm and back in control, she resumed her exploration. The mine was straightforward for a time, not giving her any options for direction. Any branching paths were boarded up, as evidenced by how her hand on the right wall kept running over obvious wood. Rarity had to take every step with caution, for the floor was not even at all. Lighting her horn was obviously not an option.

She was relieved, then, when a flickering light appeared up ahead. Relieved until she realized that the flickering light almost certainly indicated somepony was up ahead. At least her search had been easy. Now to just figure out a way to defeat a highly powerful magic user with nothing but her own meager horn and a pair of guns.

She could still hear no voices, but one sound did reach her ears. It took no time at all to recognize it as running water. Once she was closer to the torch in the wall, she realized that she could see the water, too. It ran down the walls in thin, wide streams and dripped from the ceiling. She applied her cupped hand so that some of the liquid could pour into it, then took a cautious sip. Fresh.

Had she ended up under the underground river? But that made no sense! She hadn’t gone down far enough… had she? Perplexed, she continued onwards, following a long trail of torches set in the walls of the mine. Now that she could see a lot better, she noticed that some of the path went through parts of the mine that had been boarded up. The former blockades of timber lay in shattered splinters along the walls with each shifting path. In some cases there were passages broken into with no torches, suggesting that whoever used this route had figured it out by trial and error.

“How long is he gonna stay down there?”

Rarity hurried to a supporting beam against the wall, back flat against the watery rock. That voice had been familiar…

“As long as he wants,” another voice replied. “They can stay down there forever.”

“I know, I’m just nervous. The longer he’s gone, the longer we go without knowing anything.”

The voices weren’t getting any closer, and so Rarity moved further down the tunnel. She hurried from pillar to pillar, the thick beams just large enough to hide her as long as she stood with her side to them. Eventually she noticed a spot ahead where the path seemed to widen out. A cavern, perhaps?

“I hear ya. And while the Boss is doing that, this damn place could come crashing in on us at any time.”

“Don’t talk like that! Now you’ve got me thinking about it, ya shit.”

The new area was right behind what appeared to have been a metal wall. Solid copper, from the looks of it, about half an inch in thickness. Whoever was in there had managed to cut through it, probably using magic given how clean the edges were. Rarity stepped through, glanced around, and promptly made her way to a large outcropping of rock along the wall nearby.

Within seconds, she realized that what she’d thought would be a cavern was actually an entirely different tunnel running at a sharp angle to the mine. The walls were smooth and shining wet in the torchlight. Smooth walls? The mine she’d been through had been all rough and random. Did that suggest a different method of creation?

“Hey, the bitch is waking up.”

So they had a captive. Rarity grimaced, realizing that this situation just got a lot harder. Who would it be, Green Talon’s widow? Avoiding any puddles and stepping lightly, Rarity followed the line of torches along the wall. This tunnel was at least three times the width and height of any in the mines, so she had no trouble seeing that there was something up ahead. Another wall set right across the path. This one didn’t look the same as the rest of this place, though. Sandy, and full of boulders. An artificial wall, perhaps?

As she got closer, she could make out ponies walking around the wall. Despite having not seen them too well the night before, Rarity was sure these two were the same ponies she’d spied on. The big, muscle-bound pony had to be Knuckle Head, if she were to guess, which meant the skinny, long-legged one had to be the atrociously named Sizzle Teeth. They approached a pony bound to a plain wooden chair and gagged. Rarity realized with no small shock that their captive was Sheriff Glimmer, who sported a black eye.

At least now she knew she wouldn’t have to defend herself against a mighty mage after all. This made things so much simpler. She was tempted to laugh at how afraid she’d been before. Granted, the two ponies still had guns, but at least she was familiar with those. If Starlight Glimmer wasn’t part of their scheme… who was the real leader?

Starlight met the stallions’ approach with a glare that could have melted iron. Now that Rarity was paying her full attention, she noticed a black ring on the unicorn’s horn. She’d never seen such a thing, but she’d heard of them. Tartarus Stone. Its anti-magical properties would prevent Starlight from using any magic, regardless of how powerful she was. Where had a bunch of uncouth brutes like these gotten ahold of something as rare as that?

Paying Starlight’s venomous stare no mind, Sizzle Teeth stepped behind her and loosened the cloth gag. “Finally ready to talk, Sheriff?”

The captive mare wasted no time. “You cretins are gonna pay for this! When I get free, I am gonna rip your hides off!”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Knuckle Head asked conversationally. “I mean, I punch you out, you rip my hide off. Ain’t even a little fair.”

“Shut up!” The sheriff squirmed in her bonds ineffectually, kicking her legs as if she hoped to strike his knees. “I didn’t survive the worst Seaddle has to offer just for some hillbilly meatheads to get the best of me! Let me go this instant!”

Her efforts were rewarded with a backhand from Knuckle Head. The force of the blow made her head twist sideways, and even from fifty feet away Rarity could see the blood on her lip. “Keep it up, Sheriff. I’ll introduce you to some more pain for your trouble.”

Sizzle Teeth, not noticing Rarity as she moved closer, leaned heavily over Starlight’s shoulder. “Come on, there’s no need for all this struggle. All we want to know is where your little outsider friend is.”

Starlight’s brow knitted up in confusion. “The outsider? What’s she got to do with this?”

Another backhand from Knuckle Head. “Don’t play dumb. We know you hired that unicorn drifter to keep tabs on us last night. Now where is she?”

“I didn’t hire her to do shit,” Starlight snapped back before spitting a wad of blood to the side. “She decided to look into Green Talon’s death on her own because that damn donkey’s her friend. I haven’t even seen the mare since yesterday afternoon.”

Sizzle grabbed Starlight by the horn and jerked her head back, hard. She hissed as her neck stretched taught. He raised a knife to her throat. “That aint’ what we wanna hear, Sheriff.”

“What do you expect me to tell you?” she growled back, seemingly undaunted by the blade nicking her skin. “Why would I hire some outsider to look into you guys? I could have easily done it myself!”

“As if we understand the minds of law ponies,” Knuckle Head said with a roll of his eyes. “You folk don’t never make no sense.”

“That’s rich coming from the likes of you,” Starlight countered. She eyed Sizzle with a scowl. “Look, we all know where this ends. If you’re gonna kill me, just fucking do it already.”

Knuckle Head frowned, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Ain’t you afraid to die?”

She scoffed. “I used to be somepony important! When I was in Seaddle, there were ponies that served my every whim! Now what am I? A sheriff in some dying backwater. You ask me, my life ended three years ago.”

The stallions shared thoughtful looks. Sizzle grinned and pulled the knife from her throat, but didn’t let go of her horn. “Alright, so we can’t scare ya into talking with that. No problem, we got other methods.”

Starlight rolled her eyes. “Right. So now what, you gonna talk me into submission?”

“I was thinking something more direct,” Sizzle replied casually. He set the edge of his knife to the base of the sheriff’s horn. “You’re a big magic pony, right?”

Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. “You wouldn’t.”

By now Rarity had maneuvered herself through the rocks and debris to within ten feet of the ponies. Seeing what was coming stole her breath. Where they really going to cut off Starlight’s horn? The very idea filled her with a fresh horror accompanied by a sickening twist of her guts. It was the only fate she could think of that would rival being raped, and she couldn’t let them do it.

Knuckle Head laughed at Starlight’s expression. “That got her attention! Hey, Sizzle, how many saws you think it’ll take before I can knock the whole horn off with a punch?”

“Only one way to find out,” Sizzle declared gleefully.

“No.” Startlight wriggled and kicked, but was unable to prevent the knife from being placed on her horn once again. “Stop. Don’t!”

Rarity leapt up from behind the cover of a large pile of dirt, Ruby Heart and Silver Lining aimed and ready. “Let her go, you—”

A brief rumbling was the only warning she had, and then the ground disappeared from beneath Rarity’s boots. She cried out as she fell, landing stomach-first on the edge of a brand new hole in the ground. Before she could properly get her bearing, something big and hard grabbed the back of her head and slammed her face into the rocks. Stars exploded in her vision and the world swam. She raised her weapons, but her head smashed into the stones again before she could fire.

The world spun, and for a little while everything was a daze. She could feel herself being lifted by the waist and dropped back onto the ground somewhere nearby. Voices swirled through her head, muffled and noisy and meaningless. The little pony in the back of her head poked its face out of the closet to let her know that she had a concussion. That was useful information, so she let the little pony out as a reward.

A blink. A shake of the head. Rarity was just able to make out her position. It seemed she’d been set against the artificial wall a couple feet to the side of Sheriff Glimmer. She looked up at the sheriff. “Oh. Hello. What are you doing here?”

Starlight appeared worried for some reason. “Are you okay?”

Rarity shrugged. “The little pony says I have a concussion. A minor thing. Sure I’ve had worse.”

“Right.” The sheriff turned her attention away, her eyes narrowing. “Thanks for the rescue attempt, I guess.”

“Rescue attempt?” Another few blinks. Rarity at last followed her gaze, noticing the two stallions staring at her with leers that made her want to close her legs tight. She hated those expressions. But what really caught her attention was the Diamond Dog between them, wearing nothing more than some dirty brown pants. “Ah. Mr. Fluffed. What happened to the tacky suit?”

The bank manager gave her a toothy grin. “Mr. Fluffed knew drifter pony would figure out dog’s plan. Good questions. Good ears.”

“Thanks?” She sat up, not paying much attention to how the two stallions reacted by pointing her own guns at her. She shook her aching head in a fruitless attempt to clear it. “My apologies, Sheriff.”

Starlight Glimmer eyed her warily. “For what?”

“For…” Rarity frowned, trying to snatch a stray thought. It eluded her like the most adept of butterflies. At last she gave up and said, “I have no idea, but I feel like I owe you an apology, so there it is.”

“Uh, thanks?” Starlight sighed and looked to their captors. “You might just wanna sit back and relax until they kill us.”

Despite the throbbing headache, a grin came unbidden to Rarity’s lips. “Oh, they won’t be killing us. Those are my guns. They can’t kill me with my own guns. It’s a rule.”

Knuckle Head chuckled and pointed Ruby Heart at her. “Why don’t we test that?”

“Plus they haven’t taken time to monologue their evil scheme,” Rarity added pleasantly. “I mean, what proper villain skips that part?”

Now it was Sizzle who laughed. “I like this mare. You sure we can’t keep her?”

“And do what with her?” Knuckle Head asked with no small amount of disdain. “Stop thinking with your balls. When this is over we can buy all the mares we want.”

While they bickered, Rarity decided it would be a good opportunity to ready a spell. Now, which one? Something familiar…

“Enough for now, ponies,” Mr. Fluffed growled. “Drifter pony has been caught. Sheriff pony, too. Kill them now. No more worries.”

Ah! Shield spell. Perfect. Hold on… “So you are the leader of these rubes?” she asked the Diamond Dog. “Not the mayor?”

Mr. Fluffed flashed his toothy grin. “Surprised?”

“More like disappointed.” She shook her head, which had the unfortunate effect of making the caverns spin and agitating her headache. She wobbled sideways but managed to stay upright… barely. “Spike had me thinking you were all good employees of the bank. Poor Spikey, he’ll be mortified when he finds out.”

The bank manager’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Y-you know Boss’s real name.”

“Did I tell you?” She blinked, cocked her head. “No, really, did I? I’m not exactly sure.”

A low grumble of a growl arose from Mr. Fluffed’s throat. “The Boss can’t know. Kill her. Kill them both!”

Sizzle and Knuckle Head obliged, firing at both ponies with a combination of Rarity’s guns and their own. How fortunate that she still had her shield spell readied in her head, especially since she’d briefly forgotten why she was doing so. It came up in a flash of blue, sending bullets ricocheting through the tunnel. The villains did a little dance as some shots struck the ground around their hooves.

Rarity was too busy cringing to care. Deflecting shots with a shield spell while having a concussion was proving to be a poor combination. It was enough to make her forget step two of her plan, albeit briefly. When her vision cleared, the shield was gone, more due to her loss of concentration than their bullets. She tried to stand, but her legs wobbled as the world spun some more and the fire in her skull intensified. Already, the two stallions were getting ready for a second attempt.

“Hey, morons!”

Everypony and dog paused. All eyes went to the entrance of the mines. Rarity’s jaw dropped at the sight of Flintlock, shaking in his boots and trying in vain to aim a rifle at the bad guys. He fired a lone shot that went laughably off the mark.

Mr. Fluffed snarled and pointed at the intruder. “Gun the pony down!”

Rarity was on her hooves… somehow. “Flintlock, run!”

He nearly dropped his rifle as a shot hit the wall over his shoulder. Wide eyed and pale, he tried to take aim again. The fool didn’t even have enough sense to get behind cover!

The little pony in Rarity’s head helpfully slammed part two of her plan back into place, and she promptly turned to Starlight. The mare was still tightly bound to her chair, magic nulled by the ring on her head. How fortunate it was that Mr. Fluffed had neglected to tie Rarity up as well. “Sheriff?”

Starlight, who had been watching the joke of a gunfight with a grim expression of surrender, looked up at her. “Yeah?”

“Make me a dog-skin coat.” Rarity plucked the ring off.

The sheriff’s eyes went cross as she looked up at her horn.

Then she gained a predatory grin. In an instant, her ropes snapped and fell to the floor. She jumped to her hooves as an intense aura of turquoise light emanated from her horn. As her eyes settled on the backs of their brief captors, she let out a snarl that would have made Cerulean back away. The others noticed this at the last minute, and every one of them went white as a sheet.

Rarity’s eyes landed on Silver Lining and Ruby Heart, and her own heart hit her throat. She spun to Starlight, paying no heed to the bout of pain it caused. “Please don’t hurt my guns!”

A bolt of lightning-like energy shot from Starlight’s horn, striking Mr. Fluffed first and branching from him to Sizzle and Knuckle Head. The three shrieked in agony as their bodies convulsed. As soon as the bolt stopped, a small beam landed amongst the trio and exploded in a shockwave that sent them flying in different directions. The two stallions struck their respective walls, bodies splaying out like flies just hit by a swatter before tumbling to the floor. Mr. Fluffed was propelled into the deeps of the tunnel, landing somewhere beyond the light of the torches.

For a time, everything was silent. Starlight didn’t even appear winded from her massive attacks, glaring at where the Diamond Dog had disappeared with an intense scowl. Rarity stared at her smoking horn, now fully aware of just how outclassed she was by this pony. “That was… something.”

“That was nothing, except a relief.” Starlight pointed just over Rarity’s shoulder. With a crackle and a flash, Silver Lining and Ruby Heart appeared, levitating in the air. Rarity eagerly took them back. “I haven’t used my magic like that in ages.”

Rarity decided they could celebrate and talk later. First… “Flintlock? Are you—”

A loud splash overwhelmed her words. On her left came a thick stream of water cascading from the wall behind them. Starlight and Rarity shared wide-eyed looks, then turned about. Another section of wall became a watery torrent. Then another. Then a fourth.

“It’s the river. Those fools dammed up the river!” Starlight grabbed Rarity’s shoulder and pulled. “Run!”

Rarity didn’t need to be told twice! The two of them charged for the exit as the wall’s structural collapse hastened. Starlight didn’t have her speed, so she grabbed the mare’s hand and pulled her along as best she could. “Cranky, if we live through this I will kill you!” She looked back in time to see the dam break apart completely, a wall of water rushing at them. “Diamond Dogs should be able to make better dams, damn it!”

The noise was deafening, a cascading cacophony that grew louder by the second. Rarity pumped her legs for all they were worth, even as she knew they’d never make it out of the tunnels in time. She could only hope she wouldn’t get smashed to pieces against the walls. Her body twisted as she fought to make the turn into the exit, only for her mind to freeze up at the sight of Flintlock on the floor.

Starlight flew past her an instant later. “Don’t stop, go, go, go!”

Rarity pulled herself out of her shock, but couldn’t bring herself to leave the boy behind. She grabbed him with magic and her arms in tandem, cringing at the blood, and dragged him into the tunnel. She got only a couple steps in before the massive wall of liquid smashed into her back and sent her tumbling head-over-heels.

Her immediate thought was to try to keep herself oriented forward. That proved her ignorance of the situation; her body spun about wildly and so quickly that she soon lost all sense of orientation. When her shoulder smacked hard against something she had no way of knowing if it was floor, wall, or ceiling. It might even have been a piece of dislodged wood or stone. The world was darkness and noise and chaos and the ever-present throb of pain in her head.

Rarity flailed at first, desperate to grasp something that might make sense of the world. She abandoned that idea entirely the third time her legs struck the wall and sent her tumbling in an even more chaotic manner. She had to protect herself, and so she tucked her body into as tight a ball as she could, head between her knees and arms wrapped around her legs. In this form she bounced around solid rock like some giant’s toy ball, her body screaming with agony from every fresh impact.

That pain was soon dwarfed by the sting in her lungs. Maybe she could revise her expectations. Drowning might be better than being turned into a smear against the tunnel walls. Her chest made its opposition to this idea known, but she didn’t dare come out of her tight posture, not with the water still raging. As her lungs burned like a pair of hot coals, she wondered if Sweetie and Coco would be okay without her. And Cranky, still in his cell. Would ponies figure things out, or would he be sent to Hoofington to hang despite everything? And her parents, sent on a journey to a distant town with every expectation of her meeting them there. How long before they started to realize?

Just when her lungs were reaching their breaking point, the rush of water faded. In an instant, she righted herself and swam. Her hands bumped something she hoped was the wall, and a moment later her head burst from the water’s surface – whacking against the ceiling of the tunnel in the process. The sting added to the her already present pain to force a hiss through her teeth. Rubbing the back of her skull and sucking down greedy lungfuls of precious oxygen, she thanked the Sisters, both individually and together, for her ongoing survival.

The world was black, but Rarity could feel via her hand still on the wall that the water level was falling. Brushing her mane from her face, she waited until her boots touched solid ground to start walking forward. Her entire body burned from the brutal treatment it had been through, but nothing felt broken. Once the water was low enough she dropped to her knees, then lay on her back and just stared at the darkness, sucking in air and rejoicing in yet another escape from seemingly unavoidable death.

Someday, Rarity, your luck is going to run out.

The water continued to recede, until she was left a sopping mess of a pony in the middle of a dripping, black tunnel. When the fire in her lungs finally faded to mere ashes and the throbbing in her skull became mere background noise, she dared to light her horn. This didn’t cause her any extra pain, so she sat up and brightened its glow.

Naturally, she was still in the mines. Exactly where in the mines, she couldn’t be sure. It was entirely possible the waters had sent her smashing through the old wooden barricades she’d passed by on the way in. This idea nearly stopped Rarity’s heart. What if she was trapped down here forever? She’d starve. She’d dehydrate! She’d… no. She reached up with both hands to her necklace and rubbed it, quietly begging for its soothing mental balm. Her mind did indeed keep the panic at bay, and for once she was perfectly willing to accept the jewelry as the reason.

Slowly, legs shaking, she climbed to her hooves. She looked one way, then another. “Sh-Sheriff? Are you out there?”

There came an echo of a groan in the distance. “Ms. Belle? That you?”

“Yes!” The fear dropped down significantly as Rarity’s entire body went limp. “Oh, thank the moon and stars! Are you okay?”

“I feel like I’m part fish,” Starlight called back. “My arm’s broken. Other than that, I’m okay. You?”

“Just sore.” Rarity started walking, leaning heavily against the wall of the tunnel. “Hold on, I’m making my way to you.”

In truth, her direction was a guess; it was hard to determine exactly where Starlight’s voice was coming from with the echo. They called to one another a few more times however, and soon Rarity was certain of her direction. She was relieved to find that while the flood had indeed washed her through a branching path in the tunnel, it hadn’t taken her very far in. She found Starlight standing with her back to the wall and holding her right arm tight to her side, appearing as sodden and feeble as Rarity felt.

Even so, the sheriff gave a wan smirk when Rarity approached. “I know you drifter types like to have fun, but the next time you decide to go swimming please leave me out of it.”

Pausing to rest against the opposite wall, Rarity returned the smile. “Spoilsport.”

They shared a companionable silence for a short time, both taking the opportunity to catch their breaths. Eventually, Starlight asked, “What were you doing down here?”

“Looking for you,” Rarity admitted, averting her gaze. “To be honest, I, um, thought you might have been the one responsible for all this. I was quite startled to see that you’d been kidnapped.”

Starlight moaned and pressed her good hand to her forehead. “Great. Ponies don’t even know me and still think I’m up to no good.”

That prompted a raised eyebrow from Rarity. “What did you do that was so bad?”

“That’s a story for another day,” the sheriff replied without heat. She issued another groan and stood up from the wall. “Water’s flowing that way, so the exit’s probably this way.”

Rarity followed her through the darkness, the combined light of their horns making it easy to see their path. They stumbled and leaned on one another, Rarity keeping one arm around Starlight’s shoulder as a means of support. As they traversed the increasingly familiar passage, she glanced back the way they came. “Do you think Mr. Fluffed and his goons are dead?”

“Probably.” Starlight eyed herself, then Rarity. “Then again, I don’t know how we survived. Maybe they did, too. I’ll gather up a search party once we’re back in town.”

A mare’s work was never finished, it seemed. Rarity wondered if she shouldn’t help. Then again, she had a sister and close friend to rescue. And a lot of pain to deal with. “I think the first order of business is to get a doctor.”

“There are no doctors in Bitter Ergot,” her companion muttered darkly. “He left town two weeks ago, the damn profit monger.”

Rarity frowned at this, but came to a solution within seconds. “Cranky’s got experience in field medicine, or so he once told me. He can help. Assuming you’re willing to let him?”

Starlight caught her meaning immediately and nodded. “Yeah, he’s free to go. Knuckle Head and Sizzle were talking about how Green Talon was in on their scheme from the beginning. From the way they talked, it looks to me like he attacked your friend to keep him from finding the mine. Besides,” she added with a grim smile, “you saved my life back there. I owe you one.”

“Thank you.” They turned a corner, and Rarity was relieved to see the circle of light marking the exit. For once, something proved easy. “I can’t wait to put this behind me and get back to finding my sister and friend.”

The grim smile became a knowing smirk as Starlight eyed her. “You intend to take your little boy toy with you?”

“Boy toy?” Rarity laughed at the idea. “Surely you don’t mean—wait.” She slowed to a stop, letting go of Starlight as she turned to stare at the darkness.

“Where’s Flintlock?”





The search party found him in one of the side tunnels. Aside from the three bullet holes in his body, he’d hit his head in the flood hard enough to crack his skull. Even if he’d been alive when the flooding ended, he’d never stood a chance of surviving before they discovered his body. Rarity sat at Starlight’s desk, head in her hands and tears in her eyes. She couldn’t get Mr. Stock’s sobs out of her ears. Mrs. Stock had been far worse. She’d not said a word, but the look she’d given Rarity – a perfect combination of disappointment and weariness – tore at her heart.

“I t-told him not to come,” she muttered through her ragged breaths. Her voice was quiet, and she hadn’t yet broken into full of crying. “The fool. Did he not listen to a word I said?”

Cranky stood at her side, his hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Ms. Belle.”

“I know it’s not,” she growled without much force. “That doesn’t make me feel any less responsible.” Leaning back heavily in her chair, she let out a low moan. “I thought he would stay behind. I thought… Cranky, he was so naïve.”

The old donkey didn’t look at her, instead staring at an empty space on the wall. His characteristic grim frown was back, a firm mask against whatever he might be feeling. “You weren’t much different once. Some ponies…” He swallowed audibly. “Some make it. Some don’t. That’s just how it is.”

Sheriff Glimmer sat in her chair opposite them, arm in a sling. She gave Rarity a sour look. “I don’t think that’s very comforting, codger.”

“Not meant to be comforting,” he replied. But then he glanced at Rarity and his face softened. “Sorry.”

It sounded gruff, but she knew he meant it, so she reached up to grasp his wrist to let him know that. She didn’t pay too much attention to either of them, though. She thought about the last twenty-four hours, how she’d helped the remaining townsfolk search the abandoned mines. They found Sizzle and Knuckle Head first, both still floating in the section of river connected to the mine. The bodies had been fished out immediately, but still everypony agreed to boil their water for the next couple months before using it for anything. None had recalled the mine having met with the river, but then the mine predated everypony living there by some four hundred years.

Yet the water was flowing again. Bitter Ergot was back on the map as soon as word could get out. It seemed a pitiable reward for the death of a colt on the edge of becoming a stallion. Rarity hadn’t even been the one to find Flintlock’s body, a point that bothered her far more than it probably should.

Of Mr. Fluffed, there was no sign. Rarity would have to send a letter to Spike about him. Once she was up for it.

“I know things seem down.” Starlight leaned forward to meet Rarity’s gaze, her expression full of concern. “I get that. But don’t forget what you’ve done for Bitter Ergot. The ponies of this town owe you a debt of gratitude. They’ll remember that. I sure will.”

Rarity rubbed her eyes clean and blew her nose on the handkerchief she’d been given. “I… I appreciate that. Really, I do. I guess I’m just not in the mood to be cheered up right now.”

The sheriff and deputy shared a glance, hers despondent and his grim, and said no more. The office lapsed into silence, which Rarity welcomed. She couldn’t get Flintlock’s grin out of her head. His eagerness to please, his laidback manner, his complete lack of comprehension regarding the dangers he’d been warned about. A good boy, and an innocent one. There was so much he could have done with his life. And then he met her.

Maybe he would have been better off if she’d left him in the wilds to fend for himself.

“Hello? Is anypony in here?”

Rarity tensed up. Her hand reached for Silver Lining.

Not noticing this reaction, Starlight groaned and stood. “I’ll deal with it. You two stay in here.”

“But—” Cranky’s argument was silenced when Rarity caught his arm in a white-knuckled grip. She shook her head slowly. He noticed her hand on her gun and nodded.

Still unaware of their silent communication, Starlight opened the door to her office, stepped out, and closed it again. Rarity immediately got up and stood by the door, ears perked and listening intently. Cranky joined her, gripping his revolver in its holster.

The familiar, feminine voice asked, “Are you the sheriff?”

“Yes,” Starlight replied gruffly. “I’m Sheriff Glimmer. Is there something I can help you with?”

“I hope so. I’m looking for somepony.”

Cranky shot Rarity a questioning look. She shook her head again. Explaining now was out of the question, not with her enemy so close. She’d had enough excitement for one week.

The newcomer maintained a friendly tone. “You might have heard of her. Goes by the Bulletproof Heart.”

Cranky’s eyebrows shot up. He examined Rarity as if seeing her for the first time. That high-browed, startled expression had Rarity simmering, but still she kept her mouth shut.

Starlight’s tone grew frustrated. “Look, lady, I just got finished putting the town’s mayor in jail. I’ve got a lot more important things to do right now than entertain some outsider’s pointless search for legendary ponies that don’t exist.”

“Don’t tell me she doesn’t exist,” the stranger snarled. “That bitch shot me and killed my stud! The Bad Apples want her, so you better be able to help me.”

A long, tense silence followed. Rarity raised her weapons. She couldn’t believe that Cayenne would be here now of all times. If she fought, would the entire town of Bitter Ergot become a target for the gang?

Starlight spoke, anger and hesitation mixed in her voice. “You’re with the Bad Apple Gang?”

“That’s right,” Cayenne replied aggressively. “We tricked that mare into coming this way. We know she was headed here, and we’ve had an ambush waiting for her in the route to Dodge Junction for the last three days. She didn’t show, and I want to know why.”

A trick? Rarity’s heart sank at this notion. It might mean that Coco and Sweetie hadn’t been brought this way. And if that was the case… Where they lost forever? She thought of her dear little sister in chains, working for those brutes. Or Coco, who was such a delicate thing. Two young mares being led around by a bunch of grungy gang members, the things that might be done to them…

“Alright,” Starlight said, sounding understandably weary. “Can I at least get a description of her?”

“White unicorn. Purple mane. Rides a blue Dust Devil. Carries a silver-and-blue revolver and a red pistol.”

No, it wouldn’t come to that. Cayenne was here. She beat the mare twice, she could do it a third time! And this time she’d force the foul mare to bring her to her sister and Coco. Whatever it took, she’d—

Her intentions must have been painted on her face, for Cranky abruptly leaned heavily against the door and pressed a hand to her shoulder. He shook his head firmly and pressed a finger to his lips.

“The mare did come into town,” Starlight admitted. “Don’t know where she is now, though.”

Rarity jumped up, Ruby Heart aimed at Cranky in warning. He didn’t so much as flinch. She mouthed for him to move. He replied by lowering his head and setting his shoulders, daring her to act with his eyes.

“You better be telling me the truth, Sheriff,” Cayenne snarled. “We want that pony dead, and we’ll take down anypony who gets in our way to do it. This little town isn’t exactly ready to defend itself.”

“I’m not lying.” If Starlight felt threatened by Cayenne’s words, her tone certainly didn’t show it. “Look, why don’t you talk to our mayor? She’s back there in a cell. It was your Bulletproof Heart that put her back there. She’ll tell you what she can, then you can go around asking the citizens in town. But I’m too busy dealing with the local meltdown of Bitter Ergot’s most prominent citizens to be paying attention to the goings on of a single outsider.”

Gun still aimed at Cranky, Rarity glanced at the wall from which the voices were coming. What was Starlight doing? Protecting her, certainly, but she wasn’t clear on the how of it. Maybe she intended to ambush Cayenne while she was talking to the former mayor?

After some grumbling that could be heard despite the wall, Cayenne finally replied, “I’ll do that. But if this is some sort of trick—”

“I have no intention of letting this town become another Ponyville,” Starlight barked. “I’m busy. You’re busy. So can we please just get this over with?”

“Fine. I’m headed back there. You stay here. I won’t have you coaching the mayor or anything. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Casting one more glare at Cranky, Rarity slowly lowered her gun and waited. He watched her warily for a few seconds, then carefully backed away. Not a second later, the door to the office opened and Starlight rushed in. She started at seeing her two guests by the door, but recovered quickly. “You heard?”

“Indeed.” Rarity glanced through the open door, but saw no sign of Cayenne. “I take it you have a plan?”

“Yeah. You stay here.” The sheriff turned to Cranky. “You. Go through town and warn everypony. They’ve got to get their stories straight, and now. Rarity came to town, solved the problem with the Mayor and Mr. Fluffed, then went back into the Bowl. Get as many ponies as you can to spread the word.” She hurried to her desk and tossed him a badge from one of the drawers. “Use that to convince ponies. Go, now, you don’t have much time.”

Cranky caught the badge and was out the door without so much as a word.

“No.” Rarity made for the door to the jail. “Cayenne knows where Sweetie and Coco are. I need to get the information now, before—”

Starlight caught her wrist and jerked her back. “You’re staying in my office.”

An instant later, the barrel of Silver Lining was pressed under Starlight’s chin. Her eyes widened, and Rarity delivered all her frustration and dedication through her eyes. “They have my sister. Cayenne knows where she is. I’m going in there.”

Very slowly, Starlight raised her good hand up as if in surrender. She spoke slowly, carefully. “Listen to me, please. You fighting that mare puts this entire town at risk. We can’t take a raid right now, it would destroy us.”

From what Rarity had seen, that was probably true. She grit her teeth, eyes drifting to the door to the jail. Was an entire town worth the lives of her sister and Coco?

“Wait in my office,” Starlight insisted, her voice pleading. “I’ll go with her. I promise, I’ll figure out where your sister is. Nopony has to die today.”

“I…” Could Starlight do that? What if she couldn’t? Coco and Sweetie would be lost for good. But if she did go after Cayenne, would the Bad Apple Gang respond? The little pony in the back of her mind was frantically begging her to lower her gun and go with Starlight’s plan. Starlight could fail, though. She needed to do something. Something more than just waiting.

Gradually, Starlight lowered her arm to her side. “You’ve done good by this town. Please, don’t ruin that. If you really are the Bulletproof Heart, then be what the stories say you are.”

Rarity met her gaze, all her inner arguments having gone quiet. “W-what do the stories say the Bulletproof Heart is?”

“From what I’ve heard?” Starlight didn’t smile, but her eyes shone with respect. “A noble mare.”

A second passed. Rarity tightened her hold on Silver Lining, but her ears folded back as doubt ate at her. “Nobility won’t save my sister and my friend.”

“It might yet.” The sheriff took a daring step forward. “Look at what you’ve done for this town. Imagine that happening Equestria-wide. You’re the start of something good. Don’t end that here.”

Rarity sagged and let her hand drop. “I’m not a hero, Starlight.”

Tentatively, as if afraid of retaliation, Starlight reached out to grip her shoulder. “Maybe Rarity isn’t,” she whispered. “But the Bulletproof Heart could be, if you give her a chance.”

She shook her head. “Don’t make me out to be better than I am. Heroes don’t exist in Equestria anymore. Not since Ponyville.”

“That may be so. But what I’ve seen of you so far is pretty heroic.” Starlight gestured to her office, her expression pleading once more. “Let me do this. I promise, I’ll find out what you need to know.”

A hero. Surely Starlight didn’t really think that. Rarity certainly didn’t see anything heroic in herself. But she’d lost her energy, that precious momentum that kept her going no matter what. If she went after Cayenne now, the consequences for Bitter Ergot could be terrible. No matter how much she wanted to act, Sweetie and Coco wouldn’t want to be rescued at the expense of an entire town.

The death of Flintlock was already on her conscience. That was more than enough for her right now.

She turned to the office door, but paused. “Why don’t you ask Mr. and Mrs. Stock how heroic they think I am?”

Starlight had no response. Rarity hadn’t expected one.
> Episode 20: On the Road Again
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


57th of Warm Season, 1005 BA


Rarity had exactly 72 bullets for Silver Lining and 255 bullets for Ruby Heart. She knew this because she’d counted them three times since Starlight and Cranky had made her wait in the former’s office. She stared at the bullets, all neatly standing in ordered rows on the desk like perfect little soldiers. They were the same as the last time she’d checked them, and the time before that. Her gaze went to the clock mounted on the wall. She sighed for the hundredth time upon realizing only five minutes had passed since she’d last looked at it.

“How long do they intend to keep me in here?” she grumbled, stalking circles around the desk. Her tail flicked in agitation, one hand rubbing her necklace and the other Silver Lining’s handle. “They could have at least brought me my stuff from the inn so I could clean my guns. If the poor darlings rust I know who I’ll blame.”

She paused underneath the clock, resisted giving it another look, resumed her pacing. “Or some fabric. Let me make something.” By Luna’s stars, but she missed the simple pleasure of sewing. And not the simple kind for stitching up holes in her clothes, either.

Her ears perked to booted hoofsteps. She paused, her casual rubbing of Silver Lining’s handle becoming a firm grip. The desk stood between her and the door. It would make for good cover.

The door opened, and she let out a sigh of relief. Cranky stepped in, adorned in his traditional scowl. “It’s about time,” she growled. “I’ve been stuck in here for three hours.”

Cranky said nothing at first. He stared at her, and there was something noticeably hard about his expression. Which was like comparing a concrete wall with a wooden one, when she really thought about it; it was hard to gauge Cranky’s varieties of grimace. She placed her hands on her hips and waited, knowing he had something he wanted to say.

Without looking back, he closed the door behind him. A beaten, bent extract stick appeared from within his coat, then a silver lighter. His hard, icy blue eyes never broke contact as he placed the stick between his lips, lit it, and puffed out a few little blue clouds. He put the lighter away, then copied her pose with hands on hips. The stick rocked up and down as he finally spoke.

“You were going to shoot me.”

No thought was required for Rarity to know what he was referring to. Nor did she feel any inclination to apologize for her actions. She flicked her mane and huffed. “Nopony stands between me and my family, Cranky. And no donkey, either.”

His ears perked as they continued to stare one another down. He chewed on his stick absent-mindedly, the tip bobbing slowly to the motions of his jaw. At last, he heaved a long sigh. “You’ve changed, Miss Belle. Become harder.”

“A life on the run will do that to a mare.” Had she won their stare down? Perhaps it was a draw. She supposed it didn’t matter. “They’ve got my sister, Cranky. And Coco. That… mare must know where they are.”

“Maybe. Maybe she does.” He pulled out his extract stick and blew a large plume of smoke towards the ceiling. “That don’t excuse you pulling a gun on me. I’m on your side, in case you forgot.”

“Oh, I remember.” Her hands pressed against the desk as she leaned forward to peer at him. “I also remember your solemn promise that Coco would be safe.”

His eyes widened just a bit, and then he sagged. “Yeah. I did promise that, didn’t I?”

“You certainly did.” Rarity threw herself into Starlight’s seat and began shoving Silver Lining’s bullets into the appropriate pouch. “And now I’ve got to travel to the Sisters know what horrible place to get her back and hope against hope that they haven’t done to her the very thing I prevented. The entire reason I’m out here, Cranky.”

He swung his arm, the side of his fist banging against the wall so hard it made the bookshelf’s contents shake. “Do you think I’m happy about it, woman? I know I bear that responsibility!”

“Then where were you?” she demanded, not deigning to look at him. She tied Silver Lining’s ammunition pouch to her belt and began gathering Ruby Heart’s bullets. “Why do I find you out here in the middle of nowhere instead of watching over my friend?”

The corner of his lip turned up as he glared. “You’re not the only pony who left something behind. I had some personal business of my own to attend to.”

She gave a derisive sniff and tied off Ruby Heart’s ammunition bag. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t think your personal issues are more important than my family’s and friends’ lives.”

With a snort, he crossed his arms. “You’re the one who sent Coco to your folks’ place, not me. Thought they’d be safe there, remember?”

She was halfway standing again, but his words sucked the energy right out of her. She gave a light yelp at its loss, for without it a frigid chill snatched her heart. Collapsing back into the seat, she clutched at her necklace and hunched down, shaking all over. Her words came out far weaker than they had been. “I know. Damn it all, Cranky, I know. Coco and my little sister are suffering now, suffering because I refused to let them have me. I… I can’t…”

Deep breaths. She shuddered and tried to pull herself together. Her thoughts kept going back to Coco and Sweetie and what tortures they might be enduring even now. The fire of her anger had kept such nightmares at bay. She grasped for that anger, tried to nurture it into a protective barrier between herself and the hideous possibilities, but it slipped away from her mind like loose sand.

She looked up to find Cranky staring at her, his scowl as present as ever. “Oh, Cranky, I’m sorry. I’m just so scared and angry and I don’t know what to do with myself. They have my sweet baby sister! What was the point of everything I’ve endured? What was the point?”

He seemed to soften. It was a scarce difference, but she knew him well enough to detect it; the subtle lowering of the shoulders, the way the furrows of his brow faded just a fraction. It was his eyes more than anything else, how the daggers they hid sheathed themselves and gave him an alert, but gentler quality. He stepped closer, sat in the chair opposite her.

“I’m no good at this,” he admitted after a few thoughtful puffs of smoke. “But… way I see it, you’ve been preparing.”

Slouching back in her seat, she stared up at the ceiling. She felt so… weighty. “Preparing for what?”

“This.” He tapped a finger on the desk, perhaps to get her attention. She didn’t look. “Maybe you’ve been going through it all so you can save them.”

“Being responsible for losing them just so that I can save them?” Rarity barked a bitter laugh. “Fate’s idea of a joke, perhaps. Maybe I should be blaming Discord.”

“Maybe you should be blaming the Bad Apples,” he countered, though there was no force in his voice. “Or Braeburn.”

Braeburn. The very name made her sick to her stomach, and she promptly pressed her legs tightly together. “I suppose that is most convenient, isn’t it?”

Cranky crushed his spent stick on the arm of his seat, tossed it into a nearby bucket. He leaned forward. “We’ll get them back, Miss Belle. I’ll help in whatever way I can.”

She eyed him. “And what about your personal business?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Cringing, she sat up and lightly slapped herself on the cheek. “I can be such a foal, sometimes.”

“Personal business was dealt with before I came back through this town.” His answer came with an immense amount of patience. “As soon as Starlight gets back with the information we need, you and I will ride.”

Ride? She tilted her head at him. “You got another lizard?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Hitched a ride here on a caravan.”

“Oh.” And she still hadn’t told him about the fate of his last mount. “Um… Cranky? About Piecazzo…”

He raised his hand to silence her. “Piecazzo did what he was supposed to. Ain’t no shame in that, and I don’t hold it against you.”

Rarity blinked at him, all anxiousness gone. “You mean you knew?”

He raised a lone bushy eyebrow. “You left his body outside Spurhoof for anypony to find. Yeah, I knew.”

“Oh,” she repeated weakly. Where was the anger? The malice? She’d been preparing herself for his fury ever since that terrible night. Maybe he didn’t realize?” I… I had to put him down.”

Cranky only nodded. “I figured. It was good of you. That lizard thought the world of you, and you did right by him.”

“Did right? I killed him, Cranky!”

“Yeah.” And now the old donkey’s gaze really did soften, his ears folding down as he met her gaze. “That must have been hard. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

He was sorry for her. She didn’t know whether to slap him for being a fool or cry for his kindness. She settled for slouching back into her seat and closed her eyes against the crazy world. How was she supposed to accept an apology she didn’t deserve? “Not as sorry as I am, let me assure you.”

They sat in companionable silence, neither willing to break the uncomfortable truce between them. Rarity spent the time trying not to think of Piecazzo. Or Sweetie and Coco. Or Flintlock and his parents. So many things to avoid. She tried to focus on something brighter, something happier. Her thoughts drifted before finally landing on something recent: Ophelia. Now there was a sweet creature. If only she didn’t already have a sand lizard, she might…

Her ears perked. “Say, Cranky?”

He grunted to show he was listening.

“Would you be interested in a new Dust Devil?”





Cranky and Cerulean stared one another down. They looked for all the world like two warriors sizing one another up. The sand lizard had his frills raised as if preparing for a fight. Cranky looked about ready to throw a punch. Rarity watched the whole scene in quiet fascination, idly scratching at the soft spot beneath Ophelia’s frills.

Starlight appeared at her side, watching the donkey and Dust Devil with hands to her hips. She leaned towards Rarity and whispered, “What are they doing?”

Rarity didn’t stop watching. Neither Cranky nor Cerulean seemed to be aware of anything going on around them. “I have no idea.”

The sheriff nodded slowly. A few seconds passed. “Isn’t that your Dust Devil?”

“I’m giving him to Cranky,” she replied. “Assuming they don’t kill one another in the next few minutes.”

“Uh-huh.” Another long pause. Cranky and Cerulean were like statues. “Cayenne finally left town.”

At last, Rarity found something more interesting than the machismo currently on display. She turned to Starlight and made no attempt to disguise the hope in her voice. “Did you find out where my sister and friend are?”

“Yep. You’re not gonna like it.” Starlight didn’t stop watching. Apparently she found the staring match as interesting as Rarity did.

Rarity growled at the mare’s tactless dodge. “Unless you tell me they’re in Ponyville, I think I’ll be fine.”

Starlight looked at her. Didn’t say a word. Just looked.

It took several seconds for the meaning of the silence to filter through to Rarity’s brain. She groaned and pressed a hand over her eyes. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“Like a plague.” Starlight sighed and shook her head. “That Cayenne mare is going to round up her posse in the pass and head back that way. I suggest you wait until she comes through town again and follow her. They’ll lead you straight to the town, provided you’re careful.”

“Did I hear that right? We going to Ponyville?”

The two mares turned to find Cranky standing nearby, his hands on Cerulean’s reins. The two appeared as normal as could be, if ‘normal’ consisted of one cantankerous scowl and one disdainful look of indifference. Which for those two it did.

“Wait.” Rarity pointed from one to the other. “You two were just glaring death at one another.”

Cranky shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

Starlight’s eyebrows disappeared under her mane. “And now you’re going to ride him? Just like that?”

Another nonchalant shrug. “Yep.”

Rarity shared a bewildered look with the sheriff. “But I thought… I don’t know, that there’d be some climactic showing of dominance or something.”

Cranky reached up to pat Cerulean’s snout. The Dust Devil accepted it without so much as a blink. “We came to terms.”

Another long stare between the mares. Starlight raised her hands as if to surrender. “Males are beyond comprehension.”

Rarity could offer no argument. She flinched when Ophelia rested her head ever-so lightly on her shoulder. She reached up without looking to rub the lizard’s muzzle, then smiled. “I suppose I’ll just accept it as a mystery of the gender. I’m just glad to get a lizard that is actually friendly.” Her smile faded. “Do you think the Talon family will part with her easily?”

“They already have,” Starlight answered. “Green Talon’s wife had no love for the creature. I think she was jealous of it, honestly. She told me you could take it, with her blessing.”

“You hear that, Ophelia?” Rarity looked up and ran her fingers along the lizard’s scales playfully. “You’re coming with me, you sweet thing, you.” The lizard trilled pleasantly and gave her that goofy, toothy grin. “Glad to know you’re happy with the arrangement. Now.” Rarity turned back to the sheriff, all business once more. “Ponyville. You’re absolutely certain?”

Starlight nodded, expression grave. “Got it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

The only appropriate response to this was a long, tired groan. “Wonderful. I’ve gone from fleeing the twittermites to invading their nest.”

Cranky harrumphed and rubbed his chin. “Well, we could always set up an ambush.” At their questioning glances he elaborated. “They say the Gang has slave caravans going in and out of there sometimes. What the slaves are used for, who knows?”

“Slaves?” Rarity swayed on her hooves, the back of her hand to her forehead as the world began to spin. “My little sister, a slave…”

“It’s just a rumor,” Starlight hurried to say. “Right, Cranky?”

His scowl deepened, but he nodded. “Right. Just rumor.”

“It better be. If I find out those ruffians are trying to force Coco and Sweetie into bondage, I swear I’ll shoot every pony in that stupid town!” Rarity huffed and turned to grab… oh. “Ophelia needs a saddle.”

“Talk to the stablemaster, Sir Single,” Starlight suggested. “They’ll fix you up. Can probably make a new saddle fitted to the two of you before Cayenne and her posse come back through town.”

Rarity thought about her bit bag back at the hotel and felt her heart sink a little more. “I don’t think I can afford to have that done right now. This journey has taken everything I have.”

“What?” Cranky’s eyes went wide. “But you were practically rolling in bits, weren’t you?”

Her thoughts drifted to the caravan she’d paid for back in Moosiville in order to get her parents to Rockstead. “Not anymore.”

“Bitter Ergot will pay for it,” Starlight said sympathetically. “It’s the least the town can do for you after you stopped Mr. Fluffed’s little scheme. And since I’m technically the highest ranking government official in town right now, I get to make that call.”

“I couldn’t possibly—” At Starlight’s raised eyebrow, Rarity sighed and bowed her head. “You’re going to do it no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

Cranky chuckled in his gravelly way. “Still don’t know how to say ‘yes’, I see.”

“I know plenty of ways to say ‘yes’,” she countered with a wan smile. “They simply don’t apply here.”

At that, he pressed his hand to her shoulder, turned to Starlight, and spoke in the tone of a father making a decision for his child. “She says ‘yes’, Sheriff.” Rarity got into her proper role by pouting and crossing her arms with an exaggerated huff.

“Good.” Starlight grinned at the two of them before turning away. “It was either that or I throw her in jail to make sure she didn’t try to leave before the sentence was carried out.”

“You’re both insufferable,” Rarity called after her, though there could be no putting away her smile. Ophelia bumped her cheek with a trill, and she obediently began rubbing the creature’s head. “I really have the best of friends, don’t you think?”

Cranky grunted and followed after Starlight, guiding Cerulean along by the reins. “Remember that the next time you decide to pull a gun on one of them.”

Her heart sank at the bite in his words. She’d really have to make up for that at some point.





True to Starlight’s word, Cayenne passed through town a couple days later with no less than two dozen ponies riding behind her. In Starlight’s opinion, Rarity’s friendship with Cranky had been the only thing saving her life from that mob. Cranky was inclined to agree. Rarity didn’t bother to inform them that she’d already faced worse odds.

At dusk a few hours after, Cranky and she left Bitter Ergot without fanfare. The locals, many of whom had come to Rarity in the intermittent days offering thanks and gifts for her actions, had not been informed of their departure. As such, it had been a quiet affair with only Starlight seeing them off. This was exactly how Rarity liked it; the fewer ponies who knew what she was doing, the fewer there were that could inform others. There were far too many benefits to this to ignore.

Now they were eight hours into their journey. They knew in a general sense which direction to go. Ponyville had been taken by the bandits when Rarity was a little filly, but it had still been a township of Hoofington. Any map old enough would point them right to it, and Cranky happened to have one. But he couldn’t get there on his own. Not because the journey was hard – it was not – or the dangers were many – they were not.

They’d stopped atop a tall hill, where they intended to make camp. Rarity had her navigation book, sextant, and other tools out and was currently marking the location of the moon before it could leave the horizon. Cranky, who was supposed to be setting up their tents, watched silently.

Rarity placed a large dot on her own map to show their current location, then made a line from it to Bitter Ergot. They’d made great distance tonight. Far better than she’d been managing while riding Cerulean herself. The annoying blue beast appeared much more willing to accept Cranky as its rider. She idly wondered why.

Noting Cranky’s gaze, she smiled and levitated her map to let him take it in hand, then started putting away her tools. “A good show for a night, wouldn’t you agree?”

He stared at the map for a moment, brow a mess of furrows. He looked as though he were trying to make sense of an intricate puzzle. “You learned how to do this while out on your own?”

She paused, sextant in hand. She studied it, turning it about to examine its every angle. Her thoughts turned to A.K. Yearling and those very few nights they had together. “A friend taught me.”

He hummed, then carefully rolled her map. A considerate gesture, as he tended to fold his own. He must have noticed how she handled it when she’d first pulled it out. “Have to admit, I’m impressed. You’ve really got a handle for things out here. I never learned to do it.”

Putting away the sextant, she gave him a curious look. “Navigating, you mean? I thought you were a rambling donkey at one time.”

“I was.” He handed her map back to her, then resumed making his tent. “But it was more… idle wandering. I had no destinations, so I didn’t bother with things like that. Mostly took caravans or followed well-worn roads.”

The concept was alien to her. How could one travel without a destination in mind? It made no sense. But then, perhaps Cranky had had a reason for it. Perhaps it wasn’t about where he was going but what he was walking away from. That led her to wonder just what his personal business in the Sunpeaks had been. Still, she wouldn’t pry. Cranky was a private donkey, this she knew from experience, and she had no doubt he’d not take kindly to probing questions.

But as she finished setting up her tent – before he finished his, she noted with pride – she decided that there were some things she might get out of him. Maybe. Waiting until he’d hammered down the last corner of his tent, she asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what made you decide to stop in Spurhoof?”

He returned his hammer to its place in his pack. “Don’t know.”

A beat. “You don’t know?”

“Nope.” Pulling out two cans of sweet corn, he elaborated, “One day I looked at the horizon and decided I didn’t feel like travelling anymore. And I happened to be in Spurhoof at the time.” He tossed her a can.

She caught it easily with one hand. “I expected something more personal.”

“It was,” he replied, settling down on the ground with his legs crossed. “Maybe not in the way you’d think, but it was.”

Translation: he was keeping something from her, and had no intention of sharing. Rarity supposed she could accept that. She didn’t need to know Cranky’s history or reasons for staying in Spurhoof. In truth, only one thing was important right now. She settled to the ground in front of her tent and smiled. “I’m really glad you came with me, Cranky.”

A knife came out, cutting a neat hole in his can. He cut a second hole, then used the blade to pry the thin metal back, opening up roughly half the lid. One more stab allowed him to rip half the lid off with ease. The way to his meal open, he pointed the knife at her can. Without a word, she took the blade in her magic and repeated the steps. Only when she finished did she note how he was peering at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, plucking his knife out of the air when she levitated it back to him. “I just thought I was gonna have to do that for you.”

“Ah.” She offered him a spoon from her own pack, which he accepted. “I normally use a can opener.”

“So why didn’t you now?”

She shrugged, dug her spoon into the corn. “You offered an alternative.” She took a bite and grimaced. The corn tasted fine, but she much preferred it warm. A shame they’d agreed that a fire would be too risky right now.

They ate quietly for a time, Rarity watching the sand lizards. Cerulean had curled up near Cranky’s tent. The proximity wasn’t lost on her. For all his grumpy, disdainful manner, the blue lizard had a protective streak. Ophelia lay within arm’s reach of Rarity, watching her back with half-closed eyes. The pale creature trilled sleepily, and Rarity reached over to rub its head. Ophelia seemed quite pleased by this. It made Rarity smile. She was growing quite fond of her new lizard.

“How much of the whole Bulletproof Heart thing is true?”

Cranky’s words knocked her out of her reverie. Her ears folded back and her stomach twisted at the new topic. Still, she knew it was better to get it out of the way than avoid it. “More than I’d like,” she grumbled, turning back to him. “But the rumors do exaggerate. What do you want to know?”

He started with the most obvious of queries. “First off, I just wanna know if what that Cayenne mare said is true. Are you really the Bulletproof Heart, and did you shoot her and her… ‘stud’.” His expression turned sour – well, sourer – at the use of the word.

“Her ‘stud’ was Braeburn.” At his slightly widening eyes, she nodded. “She was one of the ponies you had to chase away from the Squash farm that night. She and the rest of their posse tried to chase me the night I left. I killed all of them… except her. I thought I could get away with letting her live.”

He hummed, took a bite of corn, stared at the horizon. “So you shot her then, and now she wants to shoot you. Typical.”

With a sigh, Rarity shook her head. “No, actually. She was knocked out by Piecazzo. It was later, down near the Dragon’s Teeth, that we met again. She’d followed me all the way down there. And…” She paused, gazing down at her can as visions of burning corpses littered her mind. The acrid smell came back, disturbing and searing.

“And?”

Sucking down a long breath, she set the can aside. “We had a duel. She lost, and I let her go.”

He eyed the discarded can, then her. “The Dragon’s Teeth. Is that where the caravan comes into play?”

He knew about the caravan? Oh, right. Newspapers. Another sigh left her. “I found the caravan after the fact. Somepony else destroyed it. That is where we had the duel though.” She considered what she’d heard and read, tapping her chin. “Come to think of it, she also accused me of destroying the caravan. She might still think I did.”

Appearing relieved, Cranky nodded. “What about Hoofington?”

“Hoofington?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “What about it?”

Pointing at her with his spoon, he replied, “Right before Starlight locked me up, there were rumors going around that the Bulletproof Heart all but annihilated a fifty-pony gang of bounty hunters while leaving the city. They say the survivors came crawling back into town with their tails between their legs, and many of them abandoned the lifestyle then and there.”

As much as the rumors grew tall at times, Rarity found she could believe that one. Closing her eyes, she recalled the fury of that part of her journey. All that anger boiling out of her in the form of lead, indiscriminate and eager for blood. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, and she promptly wrapped her arms about herself in a tight squeeze. Her mind tried to go back to the cause, that blurry night in a Hoofington saloon. It made her thighs tingle, and she promptly tossed it aside.

Instead, she thought about young Orchard. Where was she now? Back home, hopefully, with her family. Rarity dearly hoped not to see her again. The guilt of murdering her fiancée, even in debatable self-defense, was like a phantom kick to the gut.

“Miss Belle?”

She met his gaze, realized how she must look, and promptly straightened her posture. Rubbing her necklace for comfort, she spoke in a voice much harder than she intended. “That one’s true.”

Rarity had seen Cranky surprised before, but never so startled as he was now. His face went slack and his shoulder slumped. He almost dropped his can of corn as his arms slowly lowered to his knees. He gazed at her as if she were not Rarity but some unknown creature from beyond the furthest edges of Equestria.

The scowl refused to leave her face. As much as she wanted to paint her actions in a positive light, she knew it was not possible. And that awful, perverted pony kept coming back to the forefront of her mind, as if demanding her attention. That pony… The thought of her alone ignited the familiar, disturbing fire of rage in Rarity’s heart. If she ever met that… that hussy again she couldn’t be sure what she’d do.

At last, she addressed Cranky’s gaping stare. “I was angry, Cranky. Furious. Something happened in Hoofington, something I cannot forgive, and those hunters made for an escape valve. I regret that I let it out in such a violent manner, but it is what happened and I can’t take it back. So yes, I murdered those ponies. I’m ashamed to say that I even enjoyed doing it. I was so angry I let it get to my head and…”

She turned her face away from him, indignity mixing in with her frustration in an emotional concoction that left her confused about what to do with herself. She kept rubbing her necklace beneath her shirt, but her right hand had a death grip on Silver Lining. “Something’s happening to me,” she muttered. “Sometimes I think the Bulletproof Heart is an entirely different pony, a monster trying to take over Rarity’s body and make her into something new and frightening. For three horrible, sleepless days and nights, I lost who I was and became that monster.

“I hate this life, Cranky Doodle.” She met his gaze once more, a gaze that was soft and concerned. A gaze that didn’t fit on his face, but it was there nonetheless. “I hate it more than you can know. It’s turning me into something I never wanted to be. Killing is easier. I don’t hesitate to draw my guns anymore. I resort less and less to communication to solve my problems. I…” Releasing Silver Lining, she pressed her palm to her face and sucked down a ragged breath. “I want to go back to the time when I would cry because I had to hurt somepony in self-defense.”

He tried to get a word in, voice hesitant. “Miss Belle, that’s—”

“I know!” She jumped to her hooves and began pacing, her sudden motion startling Ophelia. “I know it’s too late to go back. That doesn’t make me like it. I don’t have to like it! I’m not some bullet-happy fiend. I’m not a gunslinger or a hero or a legend, I’m just me. But it seems that no matter where I go, there are ponies who want to kill me. Ponies who want to do bad things that I have to solve. Ponies who are bound and determined to guarantee that somehow, in some way, I can’t be Rarity Belle of Moosiville or Spurhoof anymore. No, all anypony ever wants me to be is the Bulletproof Heart, and I hate it.”

She let out a scream at the reddening sky. “Do you hear me, Celestia? I want to go home! I want to go back to running my shop! And more than anything else, I never want to be referred to as the Bulletproof Heart again. I hate the Bulletproof Heart!”

Silence, interrupted only by a faint northern wind. The sun peeked over the edge of the horizon, as if afraid of what it might find. Slowly, the energy Rarity had built up drained out, until she stood slumped with arms limp and head hanging. She did not cry. Her body seemed to weigh a million pounds. Her hooves were like lead, her arms no lighter. If she leaned slightly, she suspected she’d just let herself hit the ground.

After some indeterminable amount of time, Cranky appeared at her side. Slowly, he wrapped an arm about her shoulder and guided her back to the tents. Settling her back down on the ground, he tried to get her to take her half-empty can of corn. She did, but only stared at it. Everything felt numb.

He said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he thought nothing he could say would help. Either way, he kept his peace and stayed with her. After a time, she finished her corn, set the can aside, and crawled into her tent without a word. She lay on her bedroll, curled up in a ball, and finally felt enough of a stir in her heart to start weeping. It was a quiet cry that carried her to sleep.

Cranky said nothing about her little episode when they woke up and broke camp later that day. For this, Rarity was grateful.





Rarity was really coming to appreciate her new saddle. Never before had she realized just how uncomfortable she’d been riding in saddles not designed for her. With the one fitted to her and Ophelia, she ended her days with more energy and feeling less like she’d been beating herself up between the legs. Who knew that getting a properly fitted saddle could be so important?

It was the start of the second week of their journey. As with all journeys, Cranky and Rarity fell into a routine. They always rode side-by-side. Cranky decided when they broke camp to continue travelling, Rarity dictated when the time came to stop for rest. They never argued on such matters. Barely even discussed it. Rarity guided them with her navigation skills, he always handled the food. After the fourth day with no sign of Cayenne and her posse, they agreed it was probably safe enough to start making campfires.

Fires were a fascinating subject at times like this, or so Rarity thought. This deep into the Bowl of Equestria, there were few trees and shrubs to make use of. The alternative was the EverFlame Log. A peculiar item, it was a large piece of heavy wood that easily fit in one of Cerulean’s saddlebags. All Rarity had to do was set it down on the ground and add a little magic to it. It didn’t even require a spell, really, for as soon as it noticed there was magic touching it the whole log would ignite with a blaze bright and hot enough to match any typical campfire.

The log, which was made from the unique Celestial Oaks located in the Valley of the Sun, was enchanted to be exceptionally resistant to the flames, such that a single log could be used every night for eight weeks before becoming useless cinders. It was one of the very few products created exclusively by the Church of Mother Night, and a veritable gift of the Sisters to travelers everywhere, although this one had been a gift from the ponies of Bitter Ergot.

Of course, it came with its own share of risks. This was why Rarity was pulling the log from Cerulean’s saddlebag manually, hefting the weighty thing in both arms and carrying it a safe distance away. After all, if she tried to levitate it with magic she’d end up setting Cerulean’s packs on fire. When they said the log reacted to any magic, they really meant any magic.

Cranky was busy setting up his tent, knowing better than to offer to help move the log. Once the flame was started, filling the air with the scent of burning oak, and his tent was complete, he set about putting on a pot. They were eating better now, with stews comprising a variety of vegetables and roots. Cranky had long proven himself to be an adept field cook, and Rarity saw no reason to interfere with his work.

“So, Miss Navigator,” he said as she sat down opposite him to watch him cook. “How much farther do you think we’ve got before we have to start eating cold food again?”

His meaning was clear, and she closed her eyes to envision the map she’d just updated some twenty minutes ago. “At our current pace? Maybe a day. Then we’ll be too close to Ponyville to risk the fire anymore.”

He grunted as he poured some black beans into the brown mixture. “I don’t suppose you have a plan in mind for when we get there?”

Pressing her cheek in her palm and her elbow on her knee, she replied, “It’s too early for that. I don’t think we can plan anything until we get a good look at the town.”

“If it still is a town,” he grumbled, adding some salt and pepper to the black iron pot.

Rarity didn’t want to admit it, but the fact they were getting close to Ponyville had her on edge. She rubbed at her necklace and wondered what they would find. Were there patrols? Might they walk in to find the place filled with thousands of cutthroats? For all she knew, a quiet entrance may be impossible. She didn’t even know how big Ponyville had been before the infamous battle that saw it taken over by the Bad Apples and their cousins in lawlessness, the Razzle Dazzles.

But she had to get in somehow. Sweetie and Coco were there. They simply had to be. She refused to accept the possibility that all her efforts to keep her family safe in the last year had been for nothing.

Cranky eyed her through the smoke and steam. “What’s on your mind?”

“Ponyville, of course.” Sitting up straight, she studied him. He seemed almost casual, legs crossed as he leaned over the stew with stirring spoon in hand. “Have you ever been there?”

“No,” he admitted easily. “In all my wanderings, I never went. I’d stopped travelling before the battle, and who’d go there now except gangs and ponies with a death wish?”

She nodded, having expected as much. “Too bad. Do you know anything about the town at all? Perhaps Moonlight said something.”

He scoffed, the wind from the act sending smoke and steam dancing in the night air. “All her friends died there, in spirit if not in reality. She didn’t talk to me about Ponyville beyond that she didn’t want to talk about Ponyville.”

Rarity couldn’t blame her. They say the battle was nothing less than a slaughter. She leaned back, setting her palms on the dirt as she stared up at the starry sky. “I wish I understood why Hoofington leaves it alone. You’d think the city government would want to crush such disorder swiftly, rather than let it fester and grow. Couldn’t the army have marched on the town after the battle?”

He tapped the edge of the pot with his spoon, the noise echoing in the hills all around them. It made the hairs on the back of Rarity’s neck stand on end, but she resisted the urge to complain. He knew the risks as well as she did. If he was willing to make such excessive noise, he must really think them safe.

“You really don’t know a thing about what happened out here, do you?”

Without losing her heavily leaning pose, she lifted her head to raise an eyebrow at him. “And what might you know?”

“Not as much as I’d like.” Cranky took a sip of the stew, nodded, put the spoon back in the pot. “But I at least know what it meant. It was the death of the Rainbow Gang. And with them, the end of so many other things. Order collapsed. The city states stopped patrolling the rurals. Too dangerous. Too costly.”

Rarity frowned and sat up once more. “So they just… gave up? But surely they had the horsepower needed to bring down the gangs that had taken over Ponyville.”

“Maybe, but it would have cost a lot of lives. And when Hoofington wastes two thirds of its standing armed forces clearing out a single small town in the middle of nowhere, what’s to stop Mooisville from sending theirs down to take over? Or Manehattan?”

The air left Rarity’s lungs, but she got it back quickly. “They would never!”

“Wouldn’t they?” Cranky shook his head, expression solemn. “Equestria was once unified, or so the Church claims. The leaders of the city states would love to be able to say they brought the different parts of Equestria back together, even if it was by force. The balance of power is a fragile thing.”

“They still wouldn’t resort to such barbarity!” It was a ludicrous thought. Reasonable, responsible ponies didn’t do such things!

He stared at her. It wasn’t a hard look. The fire reflected in his eyes, serving to heighten the effect of what she could only think of as a pitying expression. “Miss Belle. You’ve been out here. You haven’t told me a lot of what you’ve encountered, but I imagine you’ve seen your fair share of wickedness. Do you really believe the violence, greed, and lust for power stops at the edge of a city? Civilization doesn’t mean the end of corruption.”

They held one another’s gaze for a few seconds more, but it was Rarity who looked away. After all, he was right. Had she not grown up in a part of Mooisville where theft and gangs were common? There was no reason to believe that kind of thing didn’t exist in the upper echelons of pony society. But for a city to attack another at an opportune moment… it was madness. Had a fear of something like that kept the Ten of Eight from liberating Ponyville?

“It goes deeper than that, though,” Cranky said, interrupting her unpleasant thoughts.

Leaning forward and raising her hands to the fire, she asked, “What do you mean?”

He stirred the stew. It seemed less by necessity and more like a means of self-distraction. There was a hesitancy in his manner, and his lips were slightly parted as if barely containing what he wished to say. He met her eyes, looked back down at the stew. Stirred it some more.

At last, he forced the words out. “The death of the Rainbow Gang was also the death of the noble drifter. There are stories of famous ponies that wandered the hills and deserts, dispensing justice out the barrels of their guns and keeping the bandits in check. Firefly. The Mighty Celadon. Calamity. Fine Crime.” He paused to sip the stew again, perhaps to give his words time to sink in. “Have you ever noticed that you only ever hear the old stories? There are no new ones. Only the legends of the past.”

An interesting topic. Rarity had to admit, she’d never thought about it before. Now that he mentioned it, every 'good' drifter she’d ever heard stories about had been active decades ago. They’d all existed before… “Before the battle.” Her ears folded back as the implications struck her. “You think the Battle of Ponyville brought an end to the honorable gunslinger.”

“I don’t think, I know.” He turned from her, making a show of digging into his backpack for something. “When the Rainbow Gang died… when Moonlight lost all her friends… all of Equestria felt the effects. If great heroes like them could fall to evil, how could anypony hope to stand against it? Nopony dared to resist the rise of the Bad Apple Gang. Nopony believed they could make a difference. Ponies stopped trying to do the right thing, and those that remained gradually died out as the outlaws took over.”

At last, he produced their bowls. He spooned stew into hers, then filled his own. He said nothing the entire time. Rarity chose not to interrupt the silence, certain that he would speak more in time. She ate as was expected, but barely tasted the broth on her tongue. All her interest centered upon Cranky and his stories. She’d never heard him speak so earnestly about anything, and she didn’t want to waste a moment of it.

He’d barely touched his soup when he began speaking again, his voice low and anxious. “This is an age of lawlessness, Miss Belle. The city-states keep their armies held back and leave the towns and villages to fend for themselves. Bandits and outlaws run rampant. Nopony is willing to even try and stop them. You saw how Sheriff Glimmer had to tiptoe around that Cayenne to keep from offending her. She was scared, and for good reason. I think everypony in Equestria is scared, even if they might not seem like it.”

This, at least, prompted some clarification. Rarity set her near-empty bowl aside and leaned forward. He didn’t meet her gaze. “Are you scared?”

Gaze focused on the bowl in his hands, he nodded. “I am. I was. For years.”

She tried to give him her most comforting smile. He probably didn’t see it, so she forced that same soothing element into her voice. “I have trouble believing that you, Cranky Doodle, could be afraid of anything. You were always such a strong, inspiring figure.”

“If only you knew.” He sighed and finally looked up. It was a fleeting meeting of gazes, the blushing, dodgy glance of a young colt afraid to look his mother in the eye. Never had he appeared so vulnerable, and the sight poked tiny needles into Rarity’s heart. “When Braeburn and his posse came into Spurhoof that day, I was concerned. When I saw the attention he was giving you… I was terrified. I knew what creatures like him are capable of. I knew, and I…” He closed his eyes tight, the bowl shaking in his hands. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I put you in that position, Miss Belle.”

Rarity’s breath left her once more. To think, he’d never given any indication at all that he’d felt that way! Or had she simply not noticed? She rubbed Silver Lining’s handle, feeling at the familiar little nub with her thumb. His gift to her, to protect her when she went out into the wide world that he so feared. How must he have felt when he’d given it to her, knowing that she was entering a world he couldn’t protect her from?

Her heart was becoming a pincushion.

“Cranky.” He wouldn’t look at her. “Cranky, I never blamed you for the situation I’m in.”

“You should,” he replied in a weary, pained voice. “You really should.”

But then, he looked at her. Not a tentative or uncertain look, but a direct one, full of hope. “But if we can do this… maybe things will change.”

“Change?” Her arguments died with that word. She cocked her head sideways and frowned, attempting to make sense of the word without any context. “What will change?”

“Everything.” He smiled, and by the Sisters, it was genuine! “I don’t think you know what you’ve started out here, Miss Belle.”

“I agree.” She shrugged and gestured invitingly. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“Happily.” Yet he wavered, smile diminishing a fraction as his expression became wary. “You might not like it.”

Her own smile, teasing knowledge she’d yet to share, failed to put him at ease. “I’m a big girl, Deputy. If I can handle hordes of bounty hunters, I think I can handle one mad donkey’s ramblings.”

“Cute.” He rubbed his hands together, then pulled out an extract stick. Lighting it took up a lot more time than it should. Was he trying to postpone something? At last, he puffed some smoke into the air and seemed to relax. “It’s the Bulletproof Heart.”

She flinched, her smile disappearing entirely. Still, it would be best to let him continue. Get it out of his system and all that. “Go on.” The words came out a lot harder than she’d intended.

Another puff of smoke. He gazed at the sky as if his audience were there instead of sitting in front of him. “From what I’ve read and heard, the one topic on everypony’s lips is the Bulletproof Heart. From Rockstead to Manehattan. If she’s not common knowledge in Seaddle yet, she will be soon enough.”

With a heavy sigh, she lay on her side and propped herself up on an elbow. Staring into the fire, she grumbled, “I have no interest in that.”

“Too bad. Nopony out there cares what you’re interested in.” He turned his head away from her scowl. “The stories are spreading like wildfire. A lone mare, a gunslinger who fights against the Bad Apple Gang, who doesn’t take shit from anypony.”

She bristled.

“Who rescued a caravan from griffon slavers. Who takes out armies of bounty hunters with ruthless efficiency.”

Her hands clenched into fists.

“Who protects good, hardworking traders. Soon enough, stories will spread about how she stopped a corrupt bank official from taking over a small town.”

“That’s enough.”

“No.” He calmly met the figurative fire of her gaze from over the literal flames of their camp. “It’s just the beginning. If this keeps up, ponies will start to think the rule of the gangs is over. Ponies will start believing again.”

“Believing in what?” She sat up so that she could properly glare at him. “In me? I’m not some hero, Cranky!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to the citizens of Bitter Ergot.”

She flung her hands high. “That was a fluke! What was I supposed to do, leave you there to be hanged? Ignore all the signs pointing me to a conspiracy? I couldn’t leave it be!”

“And what are you going to do next time?” He crossed his arms, manner calm and expectant. “When you pass by another pony all alone and in need of help? When you find the next town is being raided by bandits regularly? When a caravan is lost and has no way to get home?”

“I’ll do what I have to do and help them, of course.” Her own words washed over her and she groaned. “That’s not helping, is it?”

“Nope.” He pointed at her. It was a curious thing, seeing him act like the lecturer when not five minutes ago he seemed to be the one afraid of getting lectured. “You help ponies, Miss Belle. It’s what you do. You can’t help it. And that’s why you’re becoming a legend. Most ponies who’d try to do what you have would be dead by now, but not you. I can’t tell you how impressed I am at your tenacity.”

Her throat was dry, and her tongue decided it really liked the top of her mouth. She tried swallowing a couple times, but couldn’t loosen it. A gulp of water from her canteen helped enough to let her speak, although her voice was ragged and weak. “How do I stop it? I can’t change who I am.”

“You either die or become the kind of pony you’ve been fighting against all the time.” His answer was quick and sharp.

That… Neither of those options were acceptable. Never would she descend to the level of those who hunted her. And yet the alternatives… She pulled out Ruby Heart. Its pink metal shone in the firelight. “I don’t want to be the Bulletproof Heart.”

He nodded solemnly. “So you’ve said. But what about what being the Bulletproof Heart means to so many ponies out there?”

“You don’t understand!” She shook the weapon, holding it high so he could get a good look at it. “I’ve done terrible things, Cranky. I once felt agony from just the idea of having to defend myself. I should be an emotional wreck right now over Flintlock’s death, but I feel as though I’m already over it! I don’t want to be numb to these things. I should be cherishing the lives of everypony I meet, and yet I drew this very gun on you, a close friend, in an instant. If that’s not a sign of me falling into the pits of corruption, I don’t know what is.”

“You were upset—”

“That’s not an excuse!” She made to fling the Ruby Heart away, but her arm stopped mid swing. A long, ragged breath. Another. Slowly, she forced herself to return the weapon to its holster under her vest. “And yet I keep going. Why do I keep going?” She slumped, elbows on her knees and head hanging limp. That spiteful weight came back to her, making her feel as if it would take a team of sand lizards to haul her around.

“I’m scared, Cranky,” she whispered over the crackle of flame. “Scared that a few months from now there will be no sign of Rarity Belle left. There will only be the Bulletproof Heart, an unequine creature that resorts to violence to solve all her problems, and who can kill without ever feeling guilt over the act. Is that really something ponies should be believing in?”

She could hear him fidgeting. Grumbling. Trying to find something to say. He’d never find anything that would make this right. Her thoughts drifted to Sweetie Belle and Coco. What would they think when they saw her for the first time in so long? Would they think of her as a monster?

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Her ears perked, but she didn’t look up. “I can’t imagine why.”

“If you were at risk of becoming everything you fear, would you fear it in the first place?”

That had to be the worst argument she’d ever heard. She raised her head to stare at him. “Of course. Why else would I fear it?”

He met her gaze with the deadpan look of someone explaining that water was wet to a three-year-old. “Except you are always afraid of it, right? Which means you’re always thinking about. If you’re always thinking about it, you’re always on defense against it.”

The words seeped into her brain for a little while before they started to make sense. Pursing her lips, Rarity rubbed at her necklace and wondered if she’d been looking at things the wrong way. “But I still am growing numb to the pain of killing. Flintlock—”

Cranky shook his head solemnly. “You’re never gonna lose your sense of morality, Miss Belle. You’re far too good for that. Killing does come easier with practice, but that doesn’t mean you’re becoming a bad pony.”

If only she could believe that. She sighed and returned her attention to the fire. “Then what does it mean, Cranky?”

“It means you’re learning to cope with the pain.” He reached over, waving his hand over the fire such that his fingers passed through some of the flames. “Just like you adapted to the Spurhoof heat when you first arrived. Just like how you adapted to constantly riding a sand lizard in an unfitted saddle. With practice, you learn how to deal with it. It doesn’t make the problem any less serious, it just means you can face it more effectively.”

What comforting words. What appropriate words. They made such nice, logical sense. Rarity didn’t want to acknowledge that though. Her problem wasn’t logical. It was emotional, and her heart told her that what was happening was wrong. Fundamentally so. Cranky was trying to encourage her to be something that she absolutely did not want to be. Perhaps she could make a difference in Equestria, but if the sacrifice was her very soul…

With a final sigh, she stood and turned away. “I’m going to bed.”

She expected him to keep talking. He didn’t.

She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.





The fact that Rarity didn’t wake with a start was a testament to the regularity of her nightmares. She’d gone through so many over the last year. Nightmares of Piecazzo missing half his face, of griffons painted in buffalo war colors and dancing about her while a fire burned at her hooves, of swimming in a dark tunnel away from Flintlock’s bloated corpse while he asked her what had happened to him. This one was new: a dream of shooting Cranky.

It had been a slow thing, a vision filled with intent and purpose. From the moment the dream had started, Rarity had known what she would do. He’d not tried to stop her, and a warped, black and twisted mockery of the Ruby Heart had arisen in a gradual, methodical motion to press against his chin. And then…?

She stared at the ceiling of her tent, feeling no less weary than she had when she’d gone to sleep hours ago. It had to have been hours ago, the sunlight was visible through the edges of her tent flap. Should she tell Cranky about her dream? Perhaps apologize for killing him in it. The better course could be to leave well enough alone, lest he start trying to convince her that it was all in her head. ‘Just a nightmare’, he might say. ‘Only little fillies get worked up over them.’

Rarity felt like a little filly now. Her heart was like a metal weight pressed against the back of her ribcage, pinning her firmly to the ground. In her quiet misery, she contemplated that moment back in Bitter Ergot when she’d aimed Ruby Heart at him. Would she have pulled the trigger if things went just a little differently?

She shivered and didn’t fight the weight of her body. Easier to lie there and soak in the heat and her depression.

There came a faint trilling, then the rustle of fabric. Bright light poured into the tent, directly over Rarity’s face. She groaned and rested her arm over her eyes. The trilling came again, louder this time. Braving the cruelty of Celestia, she peered beneath her arm at the flap to find a large white head staring at her with icy blue eyes. Ophelia caught her looking. Out came the goofy, toothy grin.

Sighing, Rarity reached out to rub the tip of the lizard’s nose. “How is it you always seem to know when I’ve woken up?” A trill, seemingly self-satisfied, was the only response.

Rarity considered rolling over and ignoring the lizard. Before she could properly finish the thought, Ophelia opened her mouth slightly and placed the very edge of it over Rarity’s fingers. It wasn’t enough for the teeth to reach, but it was more than enough to get some reptilian saliva on her.

“Ophelia!” Rarity was on her knees in an instant, staring at her drool-laden fingers and feeling her stomach twist at the sight. “That is disgusting! Shoo, out, you naughty thing!”

The pale Dust Devil cocked her head, frills opening and closing quickly. She appeared more perplexed than chastised.

Gripping her hand by the wrist, Rarity’s mind ran through no less than fifty horrible concepts. What if it ruined her skin? What if it did something terrible to her nails? Oh, Luna, it was sticky and slimy and might not wash off without soap, and she had no soap! What kind of horrible life did she live that she didn’t have a bar of soap within easy reach at any given moment? She needed… water. Water!

“Out!” She pushed against Ophelia’s head with her clean hand, keeping the other held up and behind her as if it possessed a contagion. The big lizard could have easily resisted her, but instead Ophelia allowed herself to be shoved backwards and out of the tent. Rarity followed, moving with extreme care to ensure her contaminated hand didn’t touch the tent flap as she exited.

Ophelia kept low to the ground, staring up at Rarity with wide, curious eyes. They weren’t anywhere near repentant enough for her liking. She growled at her steed and put her nasty hand on full display. “Don’t you look so innocent, you… you filthy thing. Look at this! Nasty! Naughty!” She started to stomp around to the saddlebags, where one of the large water jugs hung. “I can’t believe you, Ophelia! A proper lady never…”

She slowed to a stop. Turned to the campfire. There, on her knees, was a mare. She had her arms folded at stomach height, palms straight against the bottoms of her elbows. The pink pony had her eyes closed, her face as calm as the morning dawn. She wore bright yellow pantaloons sized to fit loosely around her legs, and a dirty white undershirt. A similarly yellow officer’s jacket of the Hoofington Army lay neatly folded at her side.

And atop her mass of curly pink hair was a green Pigmy Leaper, the diminutive sand lizard staring at Rarity with wide, emotionless purple eyes.

It was several seconds before Rarity fully registered the fact that there was a random pony sitting in the middle of her camp. Her first instinct was to glance around for any sign of Cranky. She saw none, but Cerulean was sitting near his tent and staring at the newcomer intently. If he was here, so was Cranky. The old donkey was probably still asleep in his tent.

Her next step was to assess whether this mare was a threat. Now that she started to pay attention, she saw no weapons on her. A closer look at the folded officer’s coat, however, revealed a belt carrying not one but three weapons. Unconventional weapons, at that: a large hatchet that appeared buffalo-made, an orange stick maybe a foot-and-a-half in length, and a pistol with two of what easily qualified as the biggest barrels Rarity had ever laid eyes on, not including the Cardinal’s secondary (which she had never learned the purpose of). So yes, the mare was probably dangerous… but she was unarmed. So was she trying to signal that she intended to cause no harm?

Something bumped Rarity’s shoulder. It was Ophelia, looking at her as if expecting some kind of response. Rarity blinked… then remembered her hand. Her hand which was covered in saliva.

And which was gripping Silver Lining.

With a cry of horror, she hurried to the water jug and poured a small amount onto her hand, scrubbing off the gunk for all she was worth. “Eww, eww, eww!” The moment her skin was cleansed, she pulled out Silver Lining and began washing its handle thoroughly. “What in Celestia’s name would possess you to do something like that?”

“Oh, that’s probably Gummy’s fault.”

Rarity froze. With deliberate slowness, she turned her head towards the newcomer. A pair of big blue eyes met hers, twinkling with amusement and pleasure above a gleaming white grin. “What?”

The young mare nodded, her mess of curls bouncing along with her motion. The lizard atop her head swayed, but otherwise didn’t stop staring at Rarity. “Gummy has no teeth, that’s why he’s called Gummy. He really likes to bite on things, it’s his way of showing affection. See?” She raised her hand, and the head-mounted leaper promptly clamped its jaws – sure enough, toothless – on her hand. It chewed for a second or two before letting go. The mare held her hand, miraculously devoid of slobber, towards Rarity as if in demonstration and wriggled her fingers. “I bet Ophelia saw that and thought she’d try it on you. Isn’t that sweet?”

“Sweet?” Rarity shuddered and returned Silver Lining to its harness. “It’s revolting, and a certain Dust Devil—” she shot Ophelia a one-eyed glare “—had best not do it again if she doesn’t want my next saddle to be made from lizard scales as a warning to my future mounts.”

It dawned upon her that she’d been sidetracked from what was actually important in the moment. She appraised the young mare kneeling by the extinguished EverFlame log, then took careful stock of the area beyond the camp. There were no other ponies that she could detect, but that meant nothing. For all she knew, a dozen bounty hunters were waiting just behind a nearby hill. Refocusing her attention on the grinning mare, she asked a curt “Who are you?”

The mare let out a gasp so loud and long it made Rarity wonder at her lung capacity, then leapt to her hooves. “You’re right, I totally forgot to say ‘hello’ properly! That’s really rude of me and I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to be a Rude McRudypants. Here, let me try again, and this time I’ll do it right.”

She did a pirouette that brought her to her jacket, which she snatched up and put on in one deft, smooth motion. Buttoning it up, she gave a salute that didn’t work at all with her toothy smile. “Good morning and hello! My name’s Pinkie Pie.” She dropped to a crouch, grabbed her two melee weapons, and bounced almost three feet in the air, her dirty black boots kicking playfully as the weapons left her hands to soar high in the sky.

She landed and caught the stick – baton? – in her left hand. “This is Pound Cake.” She caught the hatchet in her right hand. “And this is Pumpkin Cake!” She set them both on her belt, which Rarity had completely missed seeing her put on. Her tail flicked to the ground and then up, sending the pistol sailing into the hand waiting above her head. “And this is my Party Cannon!” She pulled the trigger – triggers, there were two – and the gun fired off a stream of colorful confetti that rained around the camp like a flamboyant storm.

Rarity could only stare, all defensive planning floating merrily out her ears as the explosive (and strangely squeaky) sound of the massive pistol echoed in her head. A lone green streamer landed limply on her horn and dangled before her eyes. Gummy tilted his head back and snatched a similar blue one from the air. Pinkie grinned, seeming to expect a reaction, but Rarity found herself woefully lacking in witty repertoire.

Cranky burst out of his tent, revolver at the ready. “What the hay is going on out… here?” He gaped at the rain of sparkling confetti, which seemed to have been going on for a lot longer than would seem natural. He looked to Rarity, then to the stranger. Pinkie kept on grinning. Gummy chewed on his streamer with a face that spoke of an empty mind.

At last, Cranky turned back to Rarity. “Uh, the question stands.”

“I have… no idea,” she admitted.

“Oh, no!” Pinkie’s ‘party cannon’ disappeared in her mane as she took in Cranky’s bewildered appearance. “I did the hello too early, didn’t I? I should have waited for you to get up too. I’m sorry.” Her smile came back in an instant as she raised her hand high in the air, one leg kicking back. “This calls for a do-over!”

“No!” Rarity waved her hands wildly. “Once is enough! Cranky, this is… Pinkie Pie, apparently. As for what she’s doing here, I have no idea.” She plucked the streamer from her horn and eyed it warily. “Throwing us a party, perhaps?”

Pinkie giggled, ending the playful sound with a snort. “This isn’t a party, silly! Oh, would you like a party? I can totally whip one up for you in a jiffy back at base camp. We don’t really have all the things we need for a proper party, but I can bake you up some pancakes, which aren’t really cakes but they’re close enough to count so I call them Rough Cakes because they’re cakes for when you’re roughing it, see?”

She bounced forward, mane and tail flopping with her energetic motions, and caught Rarity’s hand, which she shook so fast their arms blurred in the air. “You must be Rarity Belle! My sister Marble’s told me all about you in her letters and wow it is really nice to meet somepony who made friends with my little twin sister that makes you one of the awesomest ponies in Equestria except for my sister Maud but really nopony’s as awesome as Maud am I right?”

Despite the rapidfire mess of syllables, Rarity was somehow able to make out all of what Pinkie was saying. Her hand was still wobbling on its own long after Pinkie let go, and she had to grab it with her other one to stop the motion. Only then did she ask the question that was already at the tip of her tongue. “You are Maud’s and Marble’s sister? The one that joined the Hoofington Army?”

Pinkie was busy shaking Cranky’s hand with that same blurry speed, the old donkey appearing as if he couldn’t decide whether to open fire or retreat back into his tent. Rarity would have found his wide-eyed, frightened face amusing were she not still recovering from the interaction herself.

“That’s me!” Pinkie at last had mercy on Cranky’s hand. In one long bound, she leapt and landed far enough away to face both of them and gave another smart salute. “Major Pinkamena Diane Pie, Commander of the Hoofington Sixth Artillery Brigade and Equestria’s premier party pony! And you’re the Bulletproof Heart, drifter and survivor of typically fatal heart conditions like bullets to the heart! And you’re…” She paused, staring at Cranky with a nonplussed look, then grinned. “You’re a cranky doodle donkey!”

Cranky and Rarity exchanged slack-jawed stares as Pinkie threw back her head and laughed. The giggles died abruptly and she leaned towards Cranky. “But seriously… what’s your name, friend?”

Clicking his jaw closed, Cranky regained his trademark scowl and peered at her. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you here?” Pinkie repeated the line as if tasting the words, her eyes going cross. “That’s a really weird name you’ve got there, Whyare Youhere. I think I’ll just call you Cranky, if that’s okay.”

Cranky’s manner became deadpan. He turned to Rarity. “I’m out. You have fun with this one, kid.” He then slouched his way to Cerulean, who was still watching Pinkie with a look that warned of imminent violence if she came within talon distance.

Rarity watched him go, raising her hand as if she might stop him. Come back here, you coward!

“Wow, he really is cranky.” Pinkie had somehow ended up at Rarity side, leaning over as if to impart a secret despite her exaggeratedly loud whisper. “Don’t worry, it’s not you. He’s just annoyed because he’s got the weirdest name in Equestria.”

There could be no stopping it. Despite all her efforts to the contrary, the smile wormed its way onto Rarity’s lips. “Miss Pie, you are a very different pony from what I imagined.”

“D’aww, thanks!” Pinkie wrapped an arm around Rarity, much to her chagrin. “You and me are gonna be the bestest of best friends, I can already tell!”

“That sounds lovely, Darling.” Carefully extracting herself from the forceful physical affection, Rarity took a step back and turned to address the mare properly. “But why are you way out here, and how did you know who I was?”

“Oh, I love this game!” Pinkie clapped her hands and bounced in place. “Okay, okay, first question. So I woke up this morning and I had a tingly twitch in my left leg, which is my Pinkie Sense telling me that somepony was heading my way, but at the same time I had an itchy elbow and twirly tail, which told me that somepony was a friend of the family. I almost thought it was a friend of a friend, but that would be if it was my right elbow, and this was my left, so I knew it had to be a friend of the family, so I got dressed and ran out of camp as fast as I could to find this friend because I didn’t want them to get lost in the vicinity of Ponyville because this is a dangerous area and I would never forgive myself if a friend of the family got hurt because I wasn’t there to help!”

She paused to suck in a deep, deep breath. Rarity opened her mouth to speak—

“Second question! My little sister Marble wrote to me in a letter I got last season telling me all about this awesome gunslinger mare named Rarity Belle who was the Bulletproof Heart and was on the run from the Bad Apple Gang and was looking for her family in Mooisville and she’s a pretty white unicorn with super lovely purple hair who fights with two extra special guns that she described and they match your guns to a T, see?”

She had Silver Lining and Ruby Heart in her hands. Rarity gasped, grabbed at her holsters… and felt both guns. She looked down to see Silver Lining where it was meant to be, then checked under vest to see Ruby Heart there. When she looked up, Pinkie no longer had the weapons. “How—?”

“So then of course I saw you and you matched the description perfectly and you had the guns so I thought to myself, ‘Myself, that can only be Maud’s and Marble’s good friend, Rarity, and any good friend of theirs is a friend of yours!’ So here I am because you’re my good friend and I don’t want you to get caught by the Bad Apple Gang while wandering around on their turf. Y’know, that’s a really good way to get hurt.”

Rarity waited until the waves of sound had passed beyond her, and then a little more just in case. Pinkie merely grinned at her, as if waiting for something. At last… moderately sure the pony wouldn’t start talking the moment she opened her mouth, she said, “I appreciate the sentiment, but that doesn’t explain why a Major in the Hoofington Army is out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Pinkie blinked a few times, her eyes making a strange ‘plink’ sound every time. Her ears perked and her eyes brightened with understanding. “Oh, right. That’s because the Sixth is stationed near Ponyville to watch the town for bad activities.”

“Now she’s just making things up,” Cranky groused from near Cerulean, who was happily eating out of a feed bag the donkey held up for him. “Ain’t no way the Hoofington’s Army’s stopping the Bad Apple Gang from doing anything.”

For the first time since appearing, Pinkie’s smile was traded for a frown. Not just any frown, but one of clear anger. She ran her finger along the blunt top of her hatchet. “Yeah, he’s right. Orders are to ‘observe and never interfere’. It’s like a cruel joke, and that’s a horrible thing. Jokes should never be cruel.”

This was news to Rarity. She’d never heard of any artillery brigades keeping an eye on Ponyville. “Then why have you out here at all?”

With a heavy sigh, Pinkie turned away. Her shoulders slumped as she said, “The boys at headquarters don’t like me much. They seem to have a thing against parties. I think they’re sick or something, because really, who doesn’t like parties? I tried to make them happy, but nothing I did worked!” She crossed her arms and kicked at the dirt. “It’s a big bunch of lizard doodoo.” Gummy bit on her ear, prompting her to giggle and add, “Oh, Gummy, you’re always trying to cheer me up.”

Whether they liked her or not, Rarity doubted the military leaders in Hoofington would send an entire artillery brigade to the area just to spite one pony. There had to be more going on here than Pinkie was saying. Did the mare simply not know? As Pinkie picked up her Pygmy Leaper from her mane and happily let the strange creature nibble on her nose, Rarity had to admit she looked innocent. Childish, in fact.

That hatchet didn’t look remotely like a toy.

“Miss Belle.” Cranky, having put the feed bag down, waved for her to approach. When she got close enough, he whispered, “I don’t know if we can trust that mare. A battery stationed here with standing orders to do nothing? For all we know, they’re facilitating the Gang’s work.”

Pursing her lips, Rarity considered what little she knew about Pinkie. She thought of Maud and Marble, and how they’d lost their eldest sister and parents to bandits. And why had Pinkie come out here in the first place, leaving her siblings to handle the farm all on their own? The memory added to the edge in her tone. “No, Cranky. Pinkie wouldn’t do that.”

His scowl deepened. “How do you know?”

“Because I know the Pie Family. For Pinkie, the battle against the outlaws is personal.” She turned to look at the pony… who wasn’t there. All she saw was Gummy sunning himself on a flat rock. Only now did she notice that what he lacked in teeth he more than made for in claws, the talons long and curved.

Cranky, who was now feeding Ophelia, glanced over his shoulder. His question was dripping with suspicion. “Where’d she go?”

“Here I am!”

Cranky might have leapt ten feet, sending a big batch of lizard feed right into a startled Ophelia’s wide-eyed face. He landed on his rump, staring up at the furiously laughing Pinkie. Clutching his chest, he snarled, “Don’t do that!”

“Then don’t ask the question, silly,” she replied between giggles. She whipped around to face Rarity. “So, what’s a pretty mare like you doing in a nasty place like this?”

Despite Cranky’s head shaking, Rarity stood tall and looked Pinkie in the eye. “We’re going to Ponyville.”

The giggles came to a sharp stop. Pinkie’s eyes went wide and she clenched her baton so hard her knuckles became white. “You don’t wanna do that. Ponyville’s a bad place. Like, super-duper bad.”

“I’m well aware.” Rarity crossed her arms and steeled her resolve. “The Gang has my friend and little sister. I’m not leaving until I have them back, or at least know where I can find them.”

“B-but, you can’t just walk into Ponyville.” Pinkie shook her head so forcefully her mane whipped across her face. “There are rules! Not just anypony can go there.”

Cranky, having recovered from his shock and gotten back to the task of feeding Ophelia, snorted. “Some soldier you are. Aren’t you supposed to be the senior officer around here?”

“Hey!” Pinkie stomped, sending dust flying high. “I’m a great soldier! Just ask Gummy.”

All eyes turned to the tiny Leaper. It was lying on its back, and stared up at them with those same empty, mindless eyes. It gave a very slow blink.

Pinkie turned back to Cranky with a grin. “See?” Ignoring Cranky’s eye roll, she refocused her attention on Rarity. “Most of the ponies in the Sixth are… special? Y’know, ponies the big wigs in Hoofington didn’t want rising through the ranks for one reason or another. Why do you think they call them big wigs, anyway? Most of them don’t even wear wigs.”

Wonderful. Just when she learned there might be a proper military force nearby that could provide assistance, Rarity finds that its comprised of nothing but army rejects. She was beginning to think that Pinkie wouldn’t be able to help her after all. “While I am sorry to hear about your situation, Miss Pie—”

“Oh, just call me Pinkie. All my friends do.”

“—Pinkie, I’m afraid I can’t turn back. I am going to rescue my sister and my friend, and I don’t care if I have to storm into Ponyville guns blazing.” As an afterthought, she added, “But if you know of a way to do that without such wanton bloodshed, I’d be willing to hear it.”

A moment of quiet came over the camp as Pinkie twisted a curl of mane around her finger and stared hard at Rarity. “You’re really, really sure you wanna do that?” At Rarity’s nod, she looked to Cranky. He said nothing, although his face seemed more scowl-y than usual. She rubbed her chin as she peered at him.

Abruptly, she reached out a hand and snapped her fingers. “Gummy!”

In an instant, the once tepid Leaper darted across the ground and leapt, membranous wings opened wide. He landed on Pinkie’s arm and scrambled up onto her head, somehow managing to avoid slicing into her with his disturbingly long claws. As he settled in such that only his head poked out among the curls, Pinkie whipped around to face Rarity. She still smiled, but the expression was subdued.

“Alright, first let’s get to camp. They’ve got a good view of the town from there, and then we can plan our way in.”

“Now wait a minute—”

Rarity spoke over Cranky’s objection, keeping her voice firm. “That sounds fine, does it not, Cranky?”

The old donkey’s eye twitched. He met Pinkie’s smile with a face that would be right at home under the word ‘loathing’ in the Equestrian dictionary. “I’m not your friend, kid.”

Pinkie looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. Her ears folded back and her shoulders slumped. “But why? Is it because you missed my introduction? I can do it again.”

He gave a disdainful sniff and looked to Rarity. “This won’t end well.”

“Especially with an attitude like that,” she fired back. Just because he didn’t like Pinkie, that was no reason to be so mean to her. True, Pinkie was a little too… Exactly what Pinkie had too much of eluded Rarity for the moment, but she could understand why the mare might rub somedonkey like Cranky the wrong way. Yet he could have at least pretended to get along!

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Grumbling to himself, he set about putting Ophelia’s and Cerulean’s feed bags away.

Seeing that Pinkie was still slouched and pouting, Rarity patted her on the arm. “It’s alright. Cranky just needs time to get used to you, that’s all.”

He harrumphed, not looking their way.

“I guess.” Pinkie attempted to straighten up, flashing Rarity a half-decent smile. “I can’t blame him. If I had a name like Whyare Youhere, I’d be a grumpypants too.” Her smile broadened. “Really, that poor colt. What were his parents thinking?”

Rarity couldn’t resist sharing a giggle with the mare. Their subdued laughter intensified at his glare. Rarity had a feeling she’d be reminding him of his ‘real name’ a lot in the near future.
> Episode 21: Ponyville
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


11th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


The camp of the Sixth Artillery Brigade wasn’t hard to spot, even with the rough terrain. Rarity first noticed it from about three hours away thanks to the big guns placed upon the hills surrounding the camp. There were six of them, each aimed northwest, presumably at the town of Ponyville. Pinkie, riding on Ophelia behind Rarity, had led them in a wide circle south of the town.

The mare wasn’t as talkative as Rarity had expected, though she did talk. She regaled Rarity and Cranky about her love of baked goods, how she found Gummy as an egg during a raid on a bandit camp north of Hoofington, and how she absolutely adored her elder sister Maud. Yet she did all this quietly, speaking at a strangely slow and even pace that hadn’t matched her earlier excitement. When Rarity asked about it, Pinkie had reminded her that they were now deep in the Bad Apple Gang’s territory. That was as much as she would say on the matter.

They reached the bottom of one of the hills with an artillery piece, at which point Pinkie leapt off Ophelia. “I’m gonna run ahead and let the others know you’re coming,” she said cheerfully. “Don’t want them thinking you’re bandits or something, right?” She darted up the hill with a speed that made Rarity wonder if the mare could out sprint a Leaper.

As soon as Pinkie disappeared over the hill, Cranky turned a scathingly critical eye on Rarity. “Let me remind you that I think this is a bad idea.”

Keeping her head high, Rarity replied, “Do you have any plans for how we’re going to get into Ponyville unseen?” He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think so. Maybe the ponies in this brigade are useless, but they should at least have a better idea of what we’re up against than we do.”

He pursed his lips and scratched at his ear. They began to ascend the hill. “And if it turns out they’re working for the Bad Apples in the first place?”

The thought had crossed her mind. She trusted Pinkie, if only because of her trust in Marble and Maud, but she had no means of vouching for the soldiers under Pinkie’s command. “If that proves the case, we’ll just have to deal with it.” To that he had nothing to add.

Their path brought them close to the artillery piece on top of the hill. It was made of what appeared to be copper or brass. The weapon stood a good five feet taller than Rarity even as she rode on Ophelia, its barrel jutting into the sky at a sharp angle. Although she couldn’t hope to understand how the device worked, she could at least tell that it had thick wooden wheels and was meant to be hauled around by sand lizards. Judging by the lack of tracks in the dirt, she suspected it had been sitting there for some time. At least the soldiers had been maintaining the thing, or so it seemed from her roving inspection. There wasn’t a speck of dust on the artillery piece, and every part glistened in the sunlight as if freshly polished.

“Miss Belle.” Cranky jutted his chin in the direction the gun was pointed. She followed the gesture with her eyes and got her first distant look at the town of Ponyville.

It was smaller than she’d anticipated. Set in a valley and surrounded by shallow hills, Ponyville consisted of many one-and-two story homes of stone and wood. Even at this distance, the town hall was obvious, being a cylindrical tower at least four stories high that dwarfed the structures around it. If Rarity had to guess by the size, she’d have placed its population at no more than five hundred. It would have been quite the quaint destination in its prime.

Of the state of the buildings themselves, Rarity couldn’t guess. They were mostly made of stone and plaster, or so it seemed, and appeared quite sturdy. Rarity had expected the town to appear run down and dirty, and perhaps it was, but from where she sat there was no sign of it. Perhaps that was only due to distance. She’d be in the town soon enough.

Somewhere down there, Coco and Sweetie awaited rescue. She had to believe that. The only thing standing in her way was a small army of bandits. Surely she could handle that. If only her mind hadn’t taken the concept so sarcastically.

Wrenching her gaze from her ultimate destination, Rarity took in the camp below. She raised her head and leaned forward, taking in the sight and wondering why the place was called a ‘camp’. It consisted of four buildings of varying sizes set at the foot of the hill, the entirety of which was surrounded by a palisade of sharpened stakes. Ponies moved about the area at a leisurely pace, none seeming to notice or care about the arrival of Rarity and Cranky.

The buildings hadn’t been maintained, certainly not to the same level as the artillery pieces. The smallest structure had visible holes in the roof, and the closest building’s windows were nearly all shattered. The stairs leading into the largest building had collapsed, their only replacement a trio of two-by-fours set side-by-side to form a ramp.

“This place,” Cranky said with mock seriousness, “really gives me seconds thoughts. Why did I ever doubt that Pie kid?”

“Your lack of faith is noted,” Rarity replied sourly. “I don’t care how it looks, I care about results.” She caught him staring at her. “What?”

He shrugged, lit an extract stick. “Nothing. Just never thought I’d hear those words coming out of your mouth.”

At that, she smiled. “You and me, both.”

They rode down the hill, making for an opening in the palisade that was not far below. Pinkie Pie was talking to a trio of ponies in uniform, who all ran off shortly before the two of them reached the bottom of the hill. She turned and waved at them as they approached. “Hey, you two! So I just told the boys that you’re welcome here and not to cause any funny business. I haven’t told them why you’re here, though. Might wanna keep that to yourself for now.”

“What’s the matter?” Cranky asked, dismounting from Cerulean. “Are they afraid they’ll get volunteered to help?” The words were scathing in delivery.

“They won’t want to know you’re planning to stir up trouble,” Pinkie replied, quieter now that they were close. “Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. They look at Ponyville as a hornet’s nest, and they’re really wary of stirring it.” She blinked and turned her gaze towards a group of soldiers lounging near the entrance of the nearest building. “I don’t know where they got that analogy from. Kinda silly, if you ask me.”

Rarity remained atop Ophelia, her head turning slowly as she took in the camp from up close. It looked even less pleasant now that she was in it. The soldiers showed almost no sense of order or discipline. She had half a mind to add hygiene to that list but, given she’d been unable to procure a bath since Bitter Ergot and that was only cold water pulled from a well and dumped in a large tub, she wasn’t sure she had a leg to stand on there. Still, there was a well right there in the center of the camp, so surely they could at least rinse the dirt off.

Cranky was right, this place hardly inspired faith.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Pinkie acknowledge cheerfully, “but it has what we need! That building to your left is the barracks, where my soldiers sleep and do non-soldiery things. Even though we’re called a brigade, we’ve only got 322 ponies, so we’re more like a battalion, really.” She turned to point to a long building near the northern exit. “Over there’s the cafeteria. They had to do with whatever headquarters gave us when I arrived, but thanks to money from the farm I’m at least able to get my boys some proper chow. I can even bake goodies there every now and then!”

She then aimed her finger at the tiny, dilapidated structure near the center of the camp. “That there’s the post office. We get delivery by pegasus about once a week.” She sighed and shook her head. “It serves Ponyville, too. They started that before I became Commander, and headquarters won’t let me do anything about it. ‘Too risky.’”

They were handling the Bad Apple Gang’s mail? There was something fundamentally wrong with this picture. Cranky shot her a look of warning, which Rarity did her best to ignore. Surely, there was a good reason for this. She’d make sure to ask Pinkie about it later. For her part, Pinkie was glaring at the post office and running her finger along the top of her hatchet. That, at least, was reassuring.

“And last but not least, we have the camp headquarters.” Pinkie gestured to the largest building in the camp, dominating the east side of the valley. It looked no better up close than it did at a distance, with peeling paint and one of the two doors of its entrance missing. “You’ll be staying in the visitor’s quarters there, next to my room.”

“I don’t think so.” Rarity looked down her muzzle at Pinkie. “We have no intention of staying. I want to move on Po—” Pinkie’s eyes narrowed threateningly. “I want to do what I came here to do and leave as soon as possible. Staying the night is out of the question.”

The dark look faded as quickly as it had come. Pinkie grinned and waved her hands in the air. “No way! You’re staying the night so that we can have a party and you can meet all my best friends here at the base and I’ll even pull from my special stores and bake you a super-duper awesome and scrumptioseriffic cake! I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Cranky groaned and led Cerulean past her, making for the northern exit. “We don’t have time for your silly games.”

“Then you can just make the time!” Pinkie caught Cranky’s arm, forcing him to a stop. “You don’t wanna leave before the party.”

“I’m afraid Cranky’s right, Pinkie. We—”

The look Pinkie gave Rarity stopped her argument cold. It wasn’t that it was hard or angry or threatening. It was that it was filled with strangeness: the way her wide-spread lips strained around her teeth, how her eyes offered no mirth. The Major spoke her words with a tone struggling towards cheer but containing no small hint of warning.

“No, Rarity. Trust me. It would be dangerously rude to miss this party.”

They held one another’s gazes for a few seconds, a steadily rising discomfort filling Rarity. Her eyes flicked to the surrounding hills. She recalled Pinkie’s earlier warnings. This was Apple Gang turf.

“Cranky?” She met the donkey’s gaze and saw in his grim frown that he’d caught on to the message as well. “I think we’re attending a party tonight.”





As Rarity had expected, the ‘party’ had been such only in name, and the soldiers making up the Sixth treated it as any other dinner at the cafeteria. Rarity and Cranky had eaten pancakes and general breakfast food – an oddity for the evening, to be sure, but no less a welcome reprieve from the canned vegetables and occasional stew of the road. No announcements were made regarding why Rarity and Cranky were at the base, and nopony asked. Nozebra, either; there were two of them present, mingling with the crowd with no apparent difficulty. And a quartet of diamond dogs.

After the meal and cupcakes – shockingly good, even by Rarity’s standards – Rarity found herself in a small room in the back of the building. With her were Cranky, Pinkie, one of the diamond dogs and a tall blue pegasus mare with a pink, off-white mane. They were settled around a table that looked sturdier than the rest of the building, though the chairs were a mismatched collection that might give Rarity a headache if she saw them together for too long a period of time.

“Alright, Major Pie,” the pegasus said, her tone striking Rarity as ‘noble’. “What is this all about? And who are these ponies…?” She paused upon glancing at Cranky. “My pardon: pony and donkey.” She had the grace to sound sincere in that little apology.

Pinkie banged her baton on the table as though it were a gavel. “Right, introductions! Everyone, I’d like to introduce Rarity Belle and Whyare Youhere.” She added with utmost seriousness, “And nobody is allowed to make fun of his name.”

The donkey scowled at Pinkie. “It’s Cranky.”

“Oh, you liked the nickname I gave you? Great! Okay, everypony, you can all call him Cranky.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but made no further comment. Rarity did her absolute best not to giggle.

“Rarity and Cranky are here on business. They might need to get out of the frying pan, and I want us to make sure that doesn’t land them in the fire. That would be really painful and nobody likes getting burned and Rarity is my sisterseses friend so I really don’t want to have to write home and explain how she got crispified like a cupcake left in the oven too long.”

Pinkie turned to Rarity and Cranky while pointing at the mare, who abruptly stood at attention. “Rarity, Cranky, meet Captain Frost Fall. She’s actually from Mooisville.” She then pointed to the diamond dog, who remained slumped in his seat with one arm flung over the armrest. “And that’s Staff Sergeant Iron Dust. They basically help me run the place.”

“Charmed.” Rarity nodded to each in turn. Cranky merely grunted. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was sulking.

“A pleasure.” Captain Fall was the definition of guarded politeness. “May I ask what exactly the two of you plan on doing that has the Major so interested?”

After a glance at Pinkie to make sure it was okay, Rarity answered with a simple, direct “Going to Ponyville.”

Captain Fall’s eyes narrowed. The Staff Sergeant sat up sharply, his expression more shocked than his companion’s. It was he who blurted out, “What would you want to do that for?”

His perfect Equestrian dialect caught Rarity off guard, but she recovered quickly. “The Bad Apples have my friend and my little sister. I have reason to believe they are being held in Ponyville.”

Shooting a critical glance at Pinkie, Captain Fall asked, “And you intend to rescue them. I trust the Major has emphasized to you just how dangerous that is?”

“She has.” Rarity set her hands to her hips, putting her determination on display. “It won’t stop me from trying.”

“That’s crazy.” Staff Sergeant Dust snapped. “What do you intend to do, storm into the town guns blazing?”

“I agree,” Cranky groused, his sharp eyes on Pinkie. “I’m hoping the Major brought us here to discuss a plan that doesn’t involve suicide.”

Pinkie frowned, rubbing her palm on the top of her baton. “Actually, I brought you here because the Bad Apples do patrols in the area at night and would have surely captured or killed you in your sleep if you hadn’t stayed.”

Ah, right. That sounded like a perfectly reasonable purpose to Rarity. But Cranky’s point remained valid; they needed a plan. Casting her gaze about the officers at the table, she asked, “How does the Sixth usually deal with the gang?”

Captain Fall grimaced and crossed her arms. “It doesn’t.”

“Now that’s not exactly true,” Pinkie countered, though there was an unpleasant bite to her voice. “We let them come in to take their mail, and I have to go into town sometimes to ‘negotiate’ with the leader.”

Cranky’s eyebrow rose. “Negotiate?”

Staff Sergeant Dust let out a low growl. He pulled out a combat knife and began cleaning his claws. “Hoofington’s deal with the Bad Apple Gang is to meet with a representative once every four weeks, or more if either side requires, to ‘negotiate’ the ongoing ceasefire. This almost always means giving some kind of tribute to the Gang in return for a promise to leave official city caravans and traders alone.”

Rarity’s ears shot up. “Hoofington pays tribute to the Gang?”

A firm hand on her shoulder came from Cranky, who gave her a dour but weary look. “I heard about that. Didn’t know if it was true until now.” He looked to Pinkie. “It’s also to prevent the gang from targeting anymore towns, right?”

She nodded, lips twisted into a grimace. “And strongarm the small gangs not belonging to them. My ‘job’ is to be the one that gives the meanies whatever they want.”

“And in the meantime,” Captain Frost said coolly, “there’s no arm of the Hoofington military out there to make sure they keep their word. We are bound to obey the agreement by our own bureaucracy while the Gang gets away with breaking its word every day.”

Rarity sat back in her seat as their words washed over her. Hoofington was not only letting these brutes do whatever they want, it was actively contributing to their success by supplying them with ‘tribute’. Rarity had heard rumors of such deceptions all her life, but had always rolled her eyes and ignored the conspiracy theories. To sit here and hear those in a position to know the truth confirm it all was… disturbing didn’t even begin to cover it.

Cranky lit himself an extract stick, puffed on it a few times. “None of you sound keen on all of this. So why are you here?”

“It’s a lesson,” Captain Frost replied, her glare aimed at the table.

“We’re the ones who wanted to change things,” Staff Sergeant Dust said, still picking at his claws with that knife. “Command sends soldiers like us here so that we can ‘learn how the world works.’ They want us to see the system and expect us to conclude that nothing can be done to fix it.”

“And if we don’t?” Pinkie leaned heavily against the table, her tail flicking like that of an agitated cat. “Then we stay until we do. I’ve been here for two years. That’s nothing.” She gestured in the Captain’s general direction. “Frosty here’s been stuck at this post for six.”

Rarity shook her head, pulling herself out of a miasma of uncertain thoughts regarding what else might be going on in the world she didn’t know about. “So if that’s the case, why don’t you all just leave the army?”

Pinkie’s head jerked up so she could give Rarity a cocky smirk. “Well, duh! The army won’t do anything, but we can’t do anything without an army.”

If constant confusion and frustration really did give a mare wrinkles, Rarity would have to start fretting over how she was aging very soon. “How does being in an army that won’t do anything constitute doing anything in said army?”

“It’s not as crazy as you might think.” Captain Frost’s smile was dull and bitter. “If we leave the army, we lose our ability to affect anything at all. At least if we stay we have a slim hope of making a difference when someone does decide to do something about it.”

Cranky snorted. “Sounds like a circle of failure to me.”

“It’s all we have,” Staff Sergeant Dust grumbled, casually spinning his blade in his paws in ways that defied Rarity’s comprehension of gravity. “It’s a bad cycle, but it’s ours.”

“Unless somepony can find a way to fight against the Gang and win,” Pinkie muttered, cheek in palm.

All was silent for a while. Rarity considered her companions and the story they had given her. But more than that, she recalled what Cranky had said to her about the Bulletproof Heart. As much as she loathed the idea, she couldn’t help seeing his point right about now. The Sixth’s presence and purpose here was an insult to the soldiers among its ranks. They had an army of over 300 creatures, and yet they felt as if they could achieve nothing!

She was going into Ponyville with or without their help. But with was so much more appealing, and Pinkie did say she’d called this meeting to brainstorm a means of helping her. If the Bulletproof Heart, lie though it was, could inspire them to act…

She noted Cranky watching her out the corner of his eye. “What?”

The extract stick bobbed about as he shifted it from one side of his mouth to the other, hands free. “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“How can you be sure you know what I’m thinking?”

His lips curled up into a wry smile. His lone eye held her gaze, daring her to deny what they both knew had been on her mind. Rarity could feel her defenses cracking, not that they’d been much to begin with. At last she let out a groan and, cursing him under her breath, turned to Pinkie. “Is the entirety of the Sixth like you, or are some of them… let’s say ‘spoiled’ by their proximity to Ponyville?”

Pinkie sighed, twirling her baton— “Pound Cake.” —Pound Cake between two fingers.

Rarity blinked. “Wait, how did you know I was—?”

“Anypony who has succumbed to the presence of Ponyville in the Sixth is immediately transferred to another part of the army,” Pinkie declared sourly, her face scrunched up. “That’s how Command keeps things under control. So yeah, pretty much everypony in the Sixth still wants to take the Gang down. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. They’ve got a system set up for figuring us out.”

“Well, then.” Rarity sat up straight, attempting to look as commanding as possible. She had no idea how she was doing, but a lifetime of maintaining an image of nobility and prestige didn’t go away just because of a few months of rough living. “I think it’s time you all made a difference.”

Captain Frost raised an eyebrow, her expression steely. “And who are you to decide that?”

“I can’t decide anything for you,” she countered with no less firmness. “But the Bulletproof Heart is entering that town one way or another.”

Staff Sergeant Dust barked a laugh and didn’t look away from his blade. “The Bulletproof Heart. Right.” A few seconds of quiet passed before he noticed her scowl. “What?”

The Captain pursed her lips, studying Rarity with a renewed interest. “I don’t think she’s joking, Staff Sergeant.”

“She can’t be serious,” he countered, at last sitting up from his lazy position so that he could point at Rarity. “Or she’s lying. The Bulletproof Heart’s a myth.”

Captain Frost glanced at him, then turned her attention to Pinkie. “Major?”

Pinkie was sitting back in her seat, flinging her ba—Pound Cake, Rarity amended in her mind at Pinkie’s sharp look – in the air repeatedly. “My sisters say she’s the Bulletproof Heart. That’s good enough for me.”

“Well, it’s not good enough for me,” the Staff Sergeant growled. “And I’m not going against the Gang or Command on her say so.”

Captain Frost’s icy gaze settled on Rarity once more. “For the sake of argument, let’s assume you are indeed the Bulletproof Heart. What do you intend to do?”

“Yes?” Cranky plucked his extract stick from his lips and blew a ring of blue smoke before looking at Rarity with his own critical, dour expression. “What do you intend to do?”

She shot him a glower. Just whose side are you on? “The only thing I intend to do is rescue the ponies that are important to me. How that gets done is something that needs to be fleshed out. I was originally planning on sneaking in, but with the Sixth here it feels as though my options have expanded a touch.” She sent a raised eyebrow the Staff Sergeant’s way. “Unless all your talk of wanting to make a difference is exactly that.”

Staff Sergeant Dust peeled his lips back in a toothy smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Pretty words from a pretty pony. You don’t just ‘act’ against the Bad Apple Gang. If we helped you, we’d be branded as rogues. It might be easy for a pony or two to run around the wilds avoiding capture, but an entire army stands out like a sore tail.”

“Plus we have artillery pieces to consider,” Captain Frost added, expression grim. “If we went rogue, we’d have to abandon those. Would you rather the Gang got hold of them?”

So much for Cranky’s inspiration theory. Rarity stood up, her wooden chair scraping the floor noisily. “I can see that staying here is a waste of my time. I have work to do.” She turned for the door.

Cranky caught her wrist before she could pass him. “That’s not a very good bluff, Miss Belle.” He puffed out some smoke before looking up at her. When he did, his deadpan frown shifted to alarm as she tried to convey through her eyes all the frustration she had been building up in the last season. It was not an inconsiderable amount.

“Let me go, Cranky.”

He did, his hand jolting back as if burned. She wasted no time resuming her walk.

“Wait,” the Staff Sergeant said. “She’s serious?”

“You won’t survive,” the Captain warned.

Rarity’s hand was on the doorknob. “If what you all are doing constitutes living, then I think that’ll be an improvement.” She pulled open the door… only to find Pinkie standing before her. She blinked, looked back to the table. Sure enough, the Major was no longer in her seat. How does she do these things?

Pinkie’s head was slightly bowed, her face hard. It seemed… wrong to see an expression like that on the typically jovial pony. “You don’t have to do it that way.”

Rubbing the nub on Silver Lining’s handle, Rarity growled her response. “Your friends don’t intend to help me. I don’t see any alternatives.”

Pinkie poked her on the collarbone with enough force to sting, knocking Rarity back a little. “You barely tried to convince them.” Another poke, driving the startled mare back even further. “And you’re not looking very hard for new options.” A third poke. This one really stung. “And I do not want to face Marble and tell her I let her friend get killed! That would be the worst family reunion ever, and there’s not supposed to be such a thing as a bad family reunion. Do you want to be responsible for me missing out on Maud’s rock soup?”

Rarity caught Pinkie’s finger in her magic before it could poke her again. “That hurts.”

The finger flicked as if to chase away a fly, and the blue aura of magic was shredded like wet paper. A fourth poke promptly followed, and Rarity was too stunned by what she’d just seen to even consider trying to stop it. “Dying hurts more, I’ll bet.”

Confusion was burnt to ashes in a flaring fire that welled up and scalded Rarity’s brain. She slapped Pinkie’s hand away and took a stomping step closer, nearly pressing their muzzles together. “My sister’s name is Sweetie Belle. She’s fourteen years old. If I don’t get her out, and get her out now, she will end up a slave to those brutes. Do you know what they do to innocent young mares? Do you?”

A hand caught her arm, gentle but restraining. She turned her flames upon the creature that dared to interfere. It ended up being a donkey. Cranky flinched at her seething glare, but didn’t let go. “It’s alright, Rarity. We’ll figure something out.”

“Actually, it’s already figured out.”

The fire lost some of its fuel, but didn’t go out completely. Slowly, Rarity focused her attention on Pinkie once more. The Major had her hands behind her back and appeared grim. “If you’d calm down and let me talk, maybe you’ll find out about it.”

She had a plan all along? Rarity hoped, for her sake, that she had a good reason for not saying anything about it until now!

“I had to see how far you were willing to go,” Pinkie stated, as if she’d heard what Rarity was thinking. “You’re a friend of the family, Rares, but this is a big risk.”

And she had no reason to take a risk for Rarity’s sake. Closing her eyes tight, Rarity rubbed her necklace and let its essence sooth her mind. By now she had little doubt of its ability to do that. The fury that had nearly led her to storming Ponyville all alone died away, leaving behind an icy emptiness… and a hint of dread. Going to Ponyville all by herself might be suicide. She’d accepted that long ago.

But Pinkie was right, she wasn’t being fair to her or her officers. Her desperation was getting the best of her. You should be better than that, Rarity. You were willing to wait a few days to help Cranky. This isn’t any worse. Besides, you don’t even know if Cayenne was telling the truth about Sweetie’s and Coco’s location. That last part was the opposite of comforting, but she was tranquil enough now to face the issue with a cooler head.

“I apologize, Major Pie.” Opening her eyes, she turned to the officers and Cranky, nodding to each of them in turn. “And to all of you, as well. I’m just… a little desperate at this point.”

Cranky said nothing. The concern in his eyes was more than enough. Captain Frost wouldn’t look at her, even as she replied, “It’s okay. You have your reasons.”

Staff Sergeant Dust wasn’t so hesitant. “I still think you’re a crazy pony.” He crossed his arms and smirked. “But you’ve got guts. That counts for something.”

Rarity eyed him. “Thanks… I think?”

Apparently concluding the situation had been defused, Pinkie waved her hand in front of Rarity’s face to catch her attention. “Okay, so, you’re gonna sit down now, right? Or am I gonna have to keep poking you? Please say you’re gonna sit down, I don’t think my finger can take that kind of punishment for much longer. Has anypony mentioned you’re a lot sturdier than you look?”

With a smile, Rarity walked back to the table. “I’ll sit down and listen. And I think ‘sturdiness’ comes with a lifestyle of constantly running for your life.” She sat down, and by the time she looked up Pinkie was already in her seat. At this point she decided questioning it could come at a later time. “Alright, Major Pie, I’m listening. What’s this plan?”





The ‘plan’ as it turned out, was exceptionally simple, but no less dangerous for it. It was the next morning, and Rarity, Pinkie, and Cranky were riding Dust Devils towards Ponyville. Pinkie led the way, immaculately clad in a dress uniform that Rarity had to admit looked pretty good. The yellow and green ensemble featured all the accessories, the stiff collar with piping to the lapels. Her perfectly pressed jacket sported turnbacks, a curious thing for a mare, and she even wore a bicorn. The outfit was immaculate. Upon seeing it for the first time, Rarity came to realize that Pinkie really took pride in her job.

Pinkie hummed to herself the whole way, but it was an anxious humming. On the rare occasion that she hummed a recognizable tune, Rarity noticed how Pinkie kept missing notes or repeating the same parts, as if she were losing her place. The poor mare said not a word the entire time, nor did she ever look back at Rarity or Cranky.

It took only thirty minutes to escape the confining hills that surrounded the camp. The trio descended into the valley and were soon approaching Ponyville’s main road. Even having been told what to expect, Rarity was surprised to find the buildings in good condition. The road itself, little more than compacted dirt, was full of potholes, but the structures had been well maintained.

The ponies making up the place’s existing population all paused to watch their approach. Surprisingly, they were not all dirty and unkempt as she expected. If she hadn’t known any better, she’d have thought them the regular run-of-the-mill citizens of any other community. The sight of so many bandits and outlaws examining them made Rarity’s hand itch, but she stalwartly kept herself from gripping Silver Lining. Pinkie was no longer humming.

When they were only ten feet from the nearest building, Pinkie brought her dark brown sand lizard to a halt. Rarity and Cranky followed suit. Pinkie then dismounted. With her back turned to the bandits, she gave her companions a smile that was probably meant to be comforting, but only served to show how anxious she was. Following her prior and strict instructions from before, neither of them dismounted.

Pinkie stepped in front of her Dust Devil and put her hands to her hips. “Hi, everypony! You all know me, I’m Major Pie. I’ve come to do some negotiatin’, so get Apple Split out here.” When none of them moved, she pulled out her party cannon and aimed it at the sky. “Come on, ponies, move your tails!” A blast of confetti and streamers filled the air with a bang that echoed across the valley.

That, at least, got the outlaws moving. A passing glance might suggest they were just going about their business, but Rarity could see how they were watching the visitors warily. More than a few were loosening the weapons in their holsters. There were a lot of holsters. Was every bandit in this town armed? It seemed a tad excessive.

Pinkie shifted her head, but didn’t turn away from the street. “You two can climb down now.”

What strange etiquette. Rarity climbed off Ophelia quickly, wanting to keep her hands free as much as possible. Her heart thudded in her chest as she patted Ophelia’s muzzle and accepted a friendly bump on the shoulder from the creature. Her throat was dry and her hands shook slightly. This was it. Ponyville. The last, disastrous stand of the Rainbow Gang had taken place right here. The end of law and order beyond the city states, stronghold of the Bad Apple Gang.

Sweetie Belle and Coco could be in any of these buildings. So tantalizingly close. Might they be watching her out one of those windows even now, wondering what she was doing? Hoping she would save them? This ‘Apple Split’ had better be cordial and fast, because Rarity was running on the last dregs of her patience.

After what seemed an eternity, a pony finally approached them from the street. By this time the road had been largely cleared, the outlaws retreating to the sides to watch whatever was about to happen. The newcomer was a well-groomed stallion of grayish blue coloration and a bright red, curly mane. He walked with purpose, and the slight frown on his face spoke of self-superiority. Rarity disliked him already.

He paused roughly ten feet from Pinkie. Adjusting his apple-decorated cravat, he spoke in a firm tone. “You’re early by two weeks, Major. What are you after?”

It took every ounce of willpower Rarity possessed not to shout her demands at him. Fortunately, Pinkie spoke in a pleasant tone that would likely work much better in this situation. “That’s something we should probably discuss in private. My friends—”

“Friends?” Apple Split cast his disdainful gaze upon Rarity, then Cranky. “More like scum. Bone heads and jackasses aren’t welcome in Ponyville. I suggest you send them back to whatever sewer they crawled from before my boys’ trigger fingers start twitching.”

Rarity bristled, but held her tongue. She’d been warned that the gang was run by earth pony supremacists. A little bit of insult could be tolerated if it meant getting her loved ones back. Sisters’ knew she’d developed a thick skin for it while riding with Roma’s traders.

“They’re not going anywhere but with me to talk to you,” Pinkie countered, not letting her pleasantness be affected at all by his words. “After all, one of them is the one with the request. I’m sure we can negotiate a fair exchange.”

Apple Split made a disgusting sound before spitting a wad of yellow phlegm on the ground between them. “That’s as much as either of them will get from the Bad Apples. If that’s all you came here for, turn around and leave now.”

Pinkie finally added some edge to her voice. “We’re not going anywhere until you talk to us.”

He shrugged. “Fine. Then stand there like idiots all day. Maybe one of the boys will use you for target practice.”

This was getting them nowhere. Rarity ground her teeth to keep from interrupting the conversation. This… this fool had her sibling and friend? So much for negotiation. Perhaps if she could sneak in later, she could—

“What’s goin’ on here?”

Her entire body went taught like a steel cord, hands clenched into claws and hackles raised. That voice. It… It couldn’t be.

Apple Split reacted similarly, straightening up with hands at his sides and eyes going wide. He swallowed and turned slowly to address who had spoken. The pony in question was watching the proceedings from the door of a nearby structure. “Jackie, I told you, this is Bad Apple business. Let me handle this, then we can get back to—”

The pony stepped into the sunlight. “Shut it, cousin. Don’t sound like you’re being fair to these folks, and I want to know why.”

“Because—”

“You!” Even though the night had been almost entirely forgotten, one thing had never left Rarity’s memories. And there, in the flesh, was the pony she hated more than any other. Just the sight of that startled orange face snapped something inside, and the little pony in the back of her mind was slammed into a solid steel vault before it could so much as breathe in protest. Rarity stormed towards the mare, who appeared shocked at her arrival.

The mare tipped her Stetson back to get a better look, then smiled. “Hey, it’s you! I never thought I’d—”

The slap rang like a gunshot through the street, staggering the mare sideways a few steps and making Rarity’s hand burn.

“You beast! Do you have any idea what your actions put me through? I have half a mind to rip you to pieces with my bare hands! Just who do you think you are, taking advantage of me like that?”

Rubbing her cheek, the mare finally turned back to Rarity, her eyes wide. “Whoa, whoa! What the hay are you talking about?”

Another gunshot of a slap, this time on the other cheek. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, you… you pervert! Don’t even dream of feigning innocence, not after what you did! What did you think, that I was some harlot for you to toy with? Put a few drinks in me and I’d be happy to spread my legs?”

“Hey, I thought you were having as much fun as I was. Woah, nelly!” She jumped back, barely avoiding Rarity’s fist. “What are you mad at me for? You were the one getting smashed. I thought it was a regular thing for you.”

“A regular thing?” Rarity caught her by the vest with both hands, pulled her so they were nose-to-nose and tried her level best to burn the brute to a crisp with her eyes. “You disreputable, arrogant philanderer! You don’t have a fucking clue what you took from me, do you? You just waltzed in there and had your fun without any Sisters-be-damned consideration for the consequences. You’re lucky I didn’t blow your fucking head off, because I swear to Luna, Celestia, and Discord I wanted to!”

“Rarity!”

Without letting the fiend go, Rarity snapped her head to the side to glare at Cranky. The vicious words on the tip of her tongue stalled when she realized that every pony in the area was watching the scene in a state of shock. The outlaws hadn’t even the wherewithal to pull out their weapons. They just… gaped. She turned her eyes to Cranky, whose eyes darted from her to the outlaw in her grasp.

His gaze met hers. “This isn’t what we came here for.”

No. No, it wasn’t. She tried to think of Sweetie Belle and Coco. Tried to forget the anger bubbling like a covered cauldron in her chest. Fighting this wretch wouldn’t solve anything.

But it would feel so good…

“Uh, are you gonna let go of me, now?”

Rarity’s inner thighs tingled with an unpleasant heat as she snarled in the outlaw’s orange face. She shoved the mare back with enough force to send her sprawling on her back, but those green eyes never left hers. They were filled with frustration and confusion. That only made the cauldron bubble more. How could she be frustrated when she was the one in the wrong? And how dare she not understand what she’d done wrong in the first place!

Rarity pointed a finger at the mare and released as much heat out of the cauldron as she dared with her voice. “When our business here is done, you and I are going to duel.”

The mare’s eyes widened a touch. “You sure you wanna do that?”

“The only reason you’re not dead already is because I refuse to kill somepony who can’t defend herself,” Rarity replied with a snarl. “And you are dangerously close to making me break that moral wall, so shut up and get a gun.” She turned on her heel. “This won’t take long.”

Cranky tried to get in her way. She shouldered past him without so much as a passing glance. It seemed he was still too stunned to try again.

So Pinkie did, hurrying to her side and walking alongside her. “Now, Rares, I know you’re mad for some reason, but this isn’t how you solve the problem. Y-you can just head back to camp and we’ll take over from—”

Apple Split finally recovered enough to realize she was storming straight at him. His eyebrows shot up as he raised his hands as though to ward her off. “H-hey, calm down, there’s no need to—” He yelped as her magic caught his ears and jerked him forward. Before any of the others could react, she had Silver Lining pressed against his side and Ruby Heart against his groin.

She spoke in a fierce whisper, glaring into his frightened amaranth eyes. Which was good. She wanted him to understand that he wasn’t dealing with kind, generous Rarity Belle anymore. “I am the Bulletproof Heart. You bastards took my sister and apprentice. You are going to give them back to me right now, or I swear to fucking Luna I will blow your fucking balls off.”

Trembling, Apple Split glanced around at their deathly silent audience. “Y-you’ll be the target of everypony h-here. That’s not how these things—” Silver Lining’s hammer cocked at a slight squeeze of the trigger. “—Okay! Okay!” Without taking his eyes off hers, he turned his head and called out, “For the love of Celestia, somepony get the hostages out here!”

A long, quiet pause. Somepony finally found the guts to ask, “Which ones?”

Which ones? So they had hostages for more than just her? Rarity’s fingers grew taught as she fought the urge to pull the triggers. “All of them,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“All of them!” Apple Split’s voice took on a distinctly higher pitch as he waved frantically at whoever had asked the question. “Go. Now! All of them!”

Things were quiet for a time. Rarity checked her peripheral vision and saw a lot of guns getting pulled out by a lot of outlaws. She cursed under her breath, but didn’t back down.

‘L-look,” Apple Split whispered, “this isn’t gonna work. Even if you kill me, th-they’re gonna kill you. You can take your friends, I won’t even demand anything in return.” Her glare refocused on him, causing him to flinch. “W-work with me. Please. If I let all the hostages go, Blackjack and Velvet will have my head.”

A familiar voice spoke up. “You should have considered that before picking the wrong side of the family, cousin.” They both looked to see the orange mare standing beside them, now sporting a gun belt with a loop of rope and two very strange, small weapons. Pistols with long… were those ammunition cartridges? They looked like harmonicas.

Disregarding the weapons, Rarity let out a fierce snarl. “You stay out of this.”

The answer was a plain “No.” At Rarity’s grimace, she added, “If you get yourself killed now, your sister and friend ain’t goin’ anywhere, and all those hostages will end up right back where they were. Plus, you won’t get your duel.”

Apple Split let out a whine. “Jackie. Cousin. H-help a guy out, here.”

“Relax, Split,” Jackie answered, though there was no kindness in her tone. “You’ll get out of today’s disaster. It’s tomorrow y’all gotta worry about.”

Rarity snorted and pushed Ruby Heart a little harder against her captive’s groin. “I don’t think you get a say in that.”

“Sugarcube, I got a lot more say in it than you do.” Jackie tipped her hat back slightly and focused her attention on her cousin. “So, Split. You up for a wager?”

“A wager?” Apple Split’s eyes darted between Rarity and her. A line of sweat ran down the side of his head. “I d-don’t think now’s the time to be gambling.”

“I’m giving you an out, so you better take it.” Jackie turned back to Rarity, her eyes going sharp. “If I kill her, nothing bad happens to you. Otherwise, you let her, her friends, and all the hostages go. No bullshit, no tricks. How does that sound to you, Bulletproof?”

Rarity sneered. “You expect me to trust you?”

“I expect you to know the best option available,” Jackie countered.

The best option. Rarity was all about searching for the right option, even if she frequently didn’t pick it. Indeed, she figured her track record so far was pretty poor. A panning glance at her immediate surroundings reminded her that she was outnumbered a hundred to one, and that was a conservative guess. The deal sounded good, but what was to stop them all from opening fire the instant she let Apple Split go?

“Rarity?”

Her ears perked as a gasp left her lungs. There, in a dirty white and purple dress, was her own dear Sweetie Belle. The filly had gotten so big in the last seven years. She stared at Rarity with wide, disbelieving eyes and tried to approach, but a similarly disheveled Coco Pommel held her back by the shoulders. Coco’s stare was no less alarmed though. They were surrounded by a couple dozen more ponies and a griffon that had to have been Sweetie’s age or younger, and they were all being guarded by outlaws with rifles.

That was a lot of hostages. But all Rarity could think was one simple thing: she’d finally found what she was looking for. The sight of her sister and Coco stirred a chaotic stew of anger, joy and fear within her. She had half a mind to turn her guns on those brutes that would dare point a gun at her sister!

Apple Split’s hesitant voice interrupted Rarity’s frustration. “Jackie? You know Blackjack and Velvet won’t like this.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.” Jackie extended a hand towards Rarity. “We got a deal?”

Rarity looked to the hand, then into Sweetie’s hopeful, fearful eyes. Her dear, innocent sister. She had to find the best option and, like it or not, Jackie’s did seem to fit the bill. It was that or shoot Apple Split now and get ripped apart by a lot of high velocity lead. This in mind, she finally pulled back and holstered her guns. Ignoring Apple Split’s slow exhale, she turned to Jackie…

…and slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me. You’ve got a deal. But if so much as a hair has been touched on either of their heads—”

Jackie rubbed her hand, studying Rarity with a sad frown. “Fine.” She turned around and spoke loud enough for everyone in the street to hear. “Listen up, y’all! Me and this fine mare are about to have a duel. I don’t want none of you knuckleheads interfering with that. You do, and you can consider every last one of ya cut off from the Family forever, and I’ll personally shoot the one responsible. And if I lose, don’t none of ya go after her for it! This is gonna be a fair fight, on my honor as an Apple, and y’all are gonna respect that!” There was a long pause as the bandits shared uncertain expressions. “That means put those guns away now!”

Every weapon disappeared from sight within two seconds. Some ponies even ran away.

“What’s the hay is she doing here?”

Rarity let out a groan and gripped Silver Lining tight, just in case. All eyes turned to the unmistakable image of Cayenne storming onto the scene. “Jackie! That mare is the Bulletproof Heart! She killed Braeburn! Why the fuck aren’t you filling her full of lead?”

One of Jackie’s pistols shot out of its holster and fired. The gun had a surprisingly quiet shot compared to what Rarity was used to. The sand at Cayenne’s hooves burst in a cloud of dust, and the mare froze with her own pistol half-drawn. She stared wide eyed at the gun aimed her way. “Jackie?”

“Me and this filly are gonna have a duel,” Jackie informed her, tone cold. “You ain’t gonna interfere with that, are you?”

Rarity could almost swear Cayenne’s eyes had burst into flames with fury. “You can’t tell me not to interfere! I have a right to kill that cunt!”

Jackie’s aim adjusted ever so slightly. “Cayenne, you holster that gun now, or I’ll put a bullet in you myself.”

Seconds ticked by as Cayenne sputtered and held out for as long as she dared. Slowly, as if the act were physically painful, she put her gun away. With hands balled into fists, she stepped backwards into the shade of the nearby structure. “I’m not letting her walk away again.”

“You’ll get another chance, I’m sure.” Jackie checked her weapon before holstering it and turning back to Rarity. “So. How you wanna do this?”

How, indeed? Rarity considered her options, then glanced to her side. “Major. Mark for us—”

“Forty paces?” Pinkie appeared at her side, expression grim. “Already done.” She pointed to a line marked in the sand at Rarity’s hooves, then turned to Jackie. “Yours is behind you.” Without a word, Jackie began walking.

Pinkie promptly turned back to Rarity. “I don’t know whether you’re really lucky or really dumb, Rares.”

“I’d say dumb,” Cranky muttered, appearing at her other side. “So much for negotiation.”

Rarity grimaced and rubbed her necklace. A little magical soothing would be a big boon right about now. “I apologize for breaking away from the agreed upon plan. I let my anger get the best of me again. In my defense, this bitch deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.” Pinkie shook her head forcefully. “I’m talking about you picking a duel with Applejack Apple. That’s crazy.”

“You know her?” Cranky asked, sounding as surprised as Rarity felt.

“You don’t know her?”

Cranky grimaced. “I know of her.”

Rarity looked between them, feeling as if she’d missed something that would have been critical to know five minutes ago. Pinkie caught her look and gaped. “Rares, she’s the Apple. The head honcho, the big and shiny, the top lasso!” At Rarity’s continued staring, she slapped a hand to her forehead. “She’s the leader of the Apple Family.”

The… what? Rarity took a closer look at Jackie, who had paused and was speaking to Apple Split. That young mare led an entire family of the agricultural elite? Surely not! “B-but I thought the Apple Family and the Bad Apple Gang were different.”

“They are. They hate one another.” Pinkie followed her gaze, a sad lilt entering her voice. “But they’re still family. Applejack comes by every few seasons to handle the Family’s own negotiations with the Gang. I didn’t know she was here this week, though. Lucky.”

“And how in Sam Hill is it lucky?” Cranky demanded.

“Because nopony in the Gang crosses Applejack,” Pinkie declared smartly. “They’ve got too much respect for her, and Blackjack would be pissed if his own Gang did her in. If she tells them to stand down and let you go, they’ll do exactly that.”

The idea that the same wretch responsible for stealing Rarity’s last bit of innocence could be of the honorable sort didn’t work in Rarity’s head. Pinkie had to be mistaken, and would have to forgive her if she decided not to take Applejack’s words at face value. Rarity planned to be ready for anything. From the look Cranky gave her, he was likely thinking the same thing.

Sweetie’s voice called from among the hostages. “Rarity! What are you doing here?”

Oh, what she wouldn’t give to run over there and hug that precious filly! But Rarity restrained herself, instead focusing her attention on Applejack, who was ushering Apple Split away. Without looking towards her sister, she called, “Just stay there, Sweetie! I promise, this will all be sorted out soon.” One way or another. “Don’t let her go anywhere, Coco.” She looked to Pinkie, who got the message and retreated to a safe distance.

“You’re sure about this?” Cranky asked when she looked to him. He held his typical scowl, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

She wanted to smile for him. It wouldn’t come. So instead she said, “If the worst happens, don’t be a hero. Get out.”

He hesitated, opened his mouth, closed it again. At last he turned and marched away, arms stiff at his sides.

Now that she stood alone, it abruptly dawned upon Rarity just what she was doing. A duel. And not some fight-or-flight, caught-in-the-moment duel. She’d initiated this one, and the idea struck her like a slap to the face. She’d been so angry – was still so angry – that she’d made the challenge without a thought.

She thought about it now. Specifically, she thought about how fast Applejack had whipped out her gun to shoot at Cayenne’s hooves. It had been… Don’t think about that, Rarity. You can do this. A glance at the fearful gazes of Sweetie and Coco. You have to.

But as she stood at the ready, hands at her sides and legs spread slightly, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even as the loathing continued to course through her veins like a fiery poison, she understood that the only reason anypony was going to die today was because of her rash decision.

I was defending my honor!

That makes it right?

She stole the last of my innocence!

But maybe getting into a duel was a little rash…

It’s her own fault for taking advantage of me.

She didn’t get you drunk.

It was date rape!

It was a one night stand, and that only because I left the scene.

The scene of the crime!

Are you really going to murder a pony to satisfy your rage?

This is justice!

Is that what it was when you killed TomTom? Justice?

Her heart felt as though it were made of ice. Her fingers twitched with the desire to pull a trigger. The voices in her head had gone silent. All of Ponyville had.

Applejack, mimicking Rarity’s ready pose, called to her. “One shot per gun fine by you?”

Swallowing the lump in her throat failed to ease the tension in it. Rarity resorted to a simple, sharp nod. One shot, two guns each. Silver Lining was fast, but fast enough to beat those little pistols Applejack sported? Ruby Heart would have to fire last. If Applejack’s aim was good, it wouldn’t get a chance.

She tunnel-visioned on her enemy, her tormentor. Was that even right? Applejack hadn’t done anything beyond one night, but scarcely a day went by that Rarity didn’t think of her. Of what she did. Tormentor. Maybe. Unintentionally?

Such lovely eyes. Sap green. Applejack was fairly pretty in her own rugged way. How many mares had she lured to bed with those eyes?

They still hadn’t moved. The waiting was like a weight unto itself, pressing down upon Rarity, demanding she do something. Anger screamed at her to strike first. Fear and doubt made her hesitate. Not doubt in her ability, but doubt in her cause. Could she kill Applejack in cold blood?

Would she even get a shot off?

Loose. She should be loose.  That’s what Cranky had taught her. Applejack appeared loose. Be loose.

A cloud passed over the scene. The heat of the sun faded a touch. Rarity felt a bead of sweat slide between her eyes. A lock of blonde hair drifted across Applejack’s lovely, hard gaze. Focused eyes. Determined eyes. Eyes that didn’t flinch or glance around, that proclaimed the mare’s certainty. Rarity couldn’t look away.

Those eyes might kill her.

Loose. Slow breaths. Rarity’s finger twitched. Applejack didn’t budge. Somepony had to act. Soon.

Soon.

Soon.

Soon.

The cloud passed. Two ponies went into motion.

Rarity felt the impact before she heard the shots. One to the heart to give her pause, a second in the exact same spot to make her stumble back and turn sideways. The hand reaching for Ruby Heart instead clasped her chest. Silver Lining was in her left hand, but hung limp.

There was no pain. There was a scream. It took Rarity a second to realize it was Sweetie’s.

A moment to register the hit. Another to smile to herself.

Bulletproof Heart, indeed.

Silver Lining shot up and fired. Applejacks body twisted at the hip, her eyes wide with shock as Ruby Heart took aim…

I am not a killer.

The larger gun’s shot was like a thunderclap. Applejack fell back as if hit by a hammer, her landing sending up a cloud of dust. The world was silent as everypony stared, some at Rarity, some at her fallen opponent. Rarity held her breath, kept her weapons raised, and prayed to the sisters her aim had been true.

I am not a killer.

I am not a killer.

I am not a killer!

There came a groan. Slowly, Applejack sat up, clutching her right shoulder with a grimace. Rarity allowed the air to leave her lungs… then marched forward, weapons poised. Applejack didn’t notice her approach until she was about ten feet away.

Despite everything, the mare smirked. “And here I thought the Bulletproof Heart was just a fancy name the Buffalo made up for ya.”

Rarity kept her gaze hard and her guns aimed. “Are you going to honor your part of the bargain?”

Applejack’s smile melted into a stern frown. “I’m nothing if not honest.” Slowly, with one hand on her bleeding hip, she stood up and turned to the outlaws guarding the hostages. “Let ‘em go. All of ‘em.” She paused, head turning to look at something. Rarity followed her look with a glance, and immediately saw what had caught her attention: Cayenne was gone.

“Let me go with ya,” Applejack said, her words tinged with a subtle alarm.

Realizing that there would indeed be no more bullets flying for now, Rarity put her guns away. “Excuse me?”

Applejack met her gaze, her eyes once more hard. “No pony with Apple blood in her will shoot at me, not right now.”

Rarity scowled, but cast a look around. The outlaws were staring at the scene as if in stark bewilderment. Had they really expected her to lose? That, or perhaps they didn’t expect to see me survive two bullets to the heart. Either way, they all seemed too shocked to draw their weapons. That seemed to be a recurring theme for the day. Best use it while it was still viable.

“We’re leaving,” she declared, giving Applejack one last sideways look. “Without you.” Applejack reached for her arm as she turned away. Rarity jerked from that touch as if it were fire, hissing and reaching for her guns.

Applejack raised her hands. “Listen to me, Sugarcube. I know I ain’t your favorite pony in the world right now, but listen. These ponies ain’t Apple Family, they’re Apple Gang. That means I don’t rightly control ‘em. They ain’t gonna come after you here – too much risk for a fight amongst their own. But the moment you’re out of sight in them hills, I promise you’ll have a war party on your tail.” She tapped her chest with a thumb. “Having me there is the difference between dealing with fifty outlaws or a hundred-and-fifty, ya get me?”

No matter how much she wanted to walk away and never see this foul creature again, Rarity had to accept that she was right, the Gang would certainly come after them. Would some really refuse to go if Applejack was along for the trip? It seemed counterintuitive. Applejack was the leader of the Apple Family, and she was certain to betray them at the first opportunity. But the ponies here did seem to respect her, seeing as they’d obeyed her thus far. Maybe it would work. It was three against who knew how many? Applejack might make it four, assuming she didn’t immediately turn on them when the fighting started.

And they still had a couple dozen hostages to protect. One more pony might make all the difference.

It seemed her begrudging acceptance was visible on her face, for Applejack turned away to bark orders at the nearest pony. “Go get Moonshine and Winona for me, and enough lizards for the hostages to ride.” The stallion ran off with his tail between his legs and one last, wide-eyed look at the two of them.

“Rarity!” She turned just in time for a charging Sweetie Belle to tackle her in a flying hug that knocked her on her back. The air was squeezed out of her lungs by the filly’s arms. “Oh my gosh that was amazing! You came for me and you fought that bad pony and got shot and lived and I’ve got the coolest, best big sister ever!”

“Nice to… see you too…” Rarity squirmed and gasped and kicked. “Sweetie… need air…”

Sweetie jerked back, hands up high. “Sorry, so sorry! Are you okay?”

After two or three slow breaths, Rarity caught her sister up in an embrace, pressing the filly’s head to her chest. She was alive. She wasn’t safe yet, but Rarity’s worst fears hadn’t come to fruition. Her sister was here, and just the thought took away all the pain and worries and frustrations. “I am now, Sweetie. I am now.”

Returning the hug with far less force than before, Sweetie rubbed her cheek against Rarity. When the elder sister began to sniffle, she whispered, “Don’t cry, sis. It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Rocking back and forth, Rarity ignored her burning eyes and replied, “Let me have this. I’ve needed it far more than I realized.”

“Oh. O-okay.” Sweetie let go just long enough to rub her own eyes. For a little while they simply sat there in the dirt, clutching one another close and weeping softly. Rarity knew they should be escaping, but she just couldn’t bring herself to let Sweetie go. She’d gotten so big. She might even have her cutie mark! And Rarity had spent the last seven years away. Missing so much. Why? None of her old excuses seemed at all appropriate anymore. She’d not been a terrible big sister, she’d not been a big sister at all.

So they had their moment, and consequences be damned.

An indeterminate time later, a voice cut through the quiet. “Uh, Rares?”

Blinking back the moisture in her eyes, Rarity looked up to find Pinkie crouched a respectful distance away. “Y-yes, Darling. I apologize. Come, Sweetie Belle, we aren’t out of this quite yet.”

“Okay.” As they stood, Sweetie grabbed Rarity’s hand, holding tight as if afraid of what might happen if she let go. “C-can I ride with you?”

“Of course you can.” Rarity spotted Coco hovering nearby, watching the scene with a sad smile. “Oh, Coco! Come here, please.” She hurried over to give the young mare a hug, which was eagerly returned. “So sorry for not greeting you sooner, Darling.”

“It’s alright,” Coco replied, shaking her head as they separated. She tried her smile again, closing her eyes as she did. “Little sisters take priority over assistants, right?”

“None of that.” Rarity cupped Coco’s cheek in her palm, prompting her to look her in the eyes. “You are no less important. I was just as determined to rescue you as I was Sweetie. I am so sorry you got caught up in this mess.”

Coco’s smile lost some of its effort, becoming genuine and sweet just as Rarity remembered. “Well, it’s over now.”

“Not yet.” Cranky stepped up to them, his traditional scowl firmly in place. He opened his mouth to speak, only to go stiff when Coco jumped forward and held him tight. He stared at Rarity with wide eyes for but a moment, then awkwardly patted Coco’s head. “Uh… welcome back, kid.”

“Thank you so much for coming for us, Cranky. You’re a true gentlecolt.” Coco planted a chaste kiss on his cheek, prompting the donkey to go more red than a sunset in the desert.

When Rarity and Sweetie tittered, he grumbled and pushed Coco back, albeit gently. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Whatever. Look, we gotta move soon.” He gestured with a nod behind the mares, who looked back to see that most of the freed hostages were mounting Dust Devils, two or three per lizard. They were being managed by Pinkie and Applejack, who made sure the younger hostages were always paired with an older one.

Rarity gave a firm nod. “Right. Sweetie’s riding with me. Cranky, can I trust you to look after Coco?”

“Of course. Come on, Miss Pommel.” He turned for Cerulean, who was watching the other lizards with his usual blasé expression.

“Oh, oh, which one’s yours?” Sweetie asked, her eyes darting from lizard to lizard.

Grinning at her eagerness, Rarity raised her hand high. “Ophelia?” The pale sand lizard trotted out of the pack and hurried to them. She stopped just before them and sniffed at Rarity’s chest where the bullets had struck her necklace. “Yes, I’m fine. I appreciate the concern.”

“Oh, she’s pretty.” Sweetie reached up in an attempt to pet the lizard. Ophelia pre-empted her, lowering her head to sniff at Sweetie’s face and head. Sweetie broke into a fit of giggles as the lizard took a long inhale of her already wild mane. “You’re really curious, aren’t you?”

“She’s a sweetheart when she’s not slobbering on you.” Rarity grinned as Sweetie yelped and backed away, hands running through her hair to check for saliva. “Come on, up you go.”

Within seconds the two were mounted and taking a circuitous route around the collection of hostages, Sweetie holding on to Rarity’s waist for support. Rarity eyed the hostages, amazed to see some foals that couldn’t have been more than ten among their number. What in Celestia’s name was the Gang doing with all of them? They each looked weary and dirty, but when they looked at her there was a spark of something else in their eyes. It was hope, the kind of hope that comes when it was thought lost. That these expressions were aimed her way left an unpleasant feeling in Rarity’s gut.

They appeared to all be mounted and settled in, so Rarity turned her attention to Pinkie. “Are we all set?”

Pinkie was riding with the young griffon, who despite her apparent youth was still almost as tall as she was. “Yep, everypony and birdie accounted for.” She turned her attention to the hostages, who listened with rapt attention. “Okay, everyone, we’ve gotta get to the camp in the hills, and we gotta get there fast. Jackie and me will lead the way. Follow in a nice line, three lizards at a time. Cranky and the Bulletproof Heart will take up the rear.”

Rarity flinched at the name Pinkie chose to use. They were looking at her again, with faces of awe and wonder. She wished they would stop.

Applejack rode up on an orangish-red – That would be vermillion, Rarity. Use your color words. – Dust Devil, her expression grim. Riding in a basket at her back was… a dog? A Border Collie, if she wasn’t mistaken. Come to think of it, there'd been one in the hotel room in Hoofington. The dog watched Rarity with an idle curiosity, sitting tall and appearing perfectly at home in its seat.

“Okay, we’re ready to go,” Applejack said, looking between Rarity, Cranky, and Pinkie. She looked awfully pain-free for somepony who just took a bullet to the shoulder. Only now did Rarity notice a distinct lack of blood. “I don’t suppose y’all gotta plan for when the snake sees the frog?”

Snake sees the frog? Is that some sort of euphemism? Rarity shook her head and decided not to ask. She looked to Pinkie, who nodded confidently.

“Yeah, I’ve got one,” she declared as if she were discussing the plans for her next party. “And it’s a good one, like, really really good. But we gotta get halfway there before we can do it, so…” She looked to the hostages. “Is everypony ready to get outta here?” A smattering of cheers met her, enthusiastic but quiet. “Good, then let’s ride!”

Despite all appearances, the former hostages took to their instructions well and rode out with haste. Perhaps it was the excitement of freedom that made them so energetic. Rarity watched them pass solemnly, then looked towards Ponyville. Many ponies had gathered around Apple Split, who had a look of panic on his face. A similar fear was present on a number of ponies on the street, but there were just as many who appeared angry.

Cranky rode up to her side, Coco holding tight to him from behind. “Yeah, I see it too,” he grumbled. “No doubt about it, they’re gonna come after us. They can’t just let the hostages go.”

“Then we’d best hurry,” Rarity replied, cracking Ophelia’s reins to chase after the others. “You can be sure Cayenne’s already got a posse together to meet us out there.”

As they followed in the dust of their charges, Sweetie spoke up. “But how are they supposed to catch up to us? We’re on lizards. The best they can do is go as fast as we are.” Rarity had no answer. She could only hope Sweetie’s deductions were accurate.

They moved at a gallop, Rarity leaning forward against the wind as the scenery flew past. It was far faster than she was used to, but she remembered the thrilling speed of Little Lightning. She wondered, briefly, what A.K. Yearling was up to right now. Had she ever caught that blue pegasus and gotten her motorcycle back? She pondered what Yearling would think of her now, the woefully ignorant dressmaker, getting into duels and rescuing hostages. Nopony would blame her for not believing it.

Cranky’s call pulled her out of her daydream. She looked to see him gesturing to the north. Peering through the dust clouds of those ahead of them, she spotted a group of lizards running for the hills some distance away. Much too far away to be in range. They were moving ahead with a startling amount of speed. It could only be Cayenne planning to head them off. She shouted to Cranky, “How are they moving so fast?”

He looked to them, then spoke one word. “Leapers.”

Of course. Leapers were known for being very hard to train and volatile, but when Rarity first fought Cayenne she’d been riding one. Perhaps the aggressive beasts were her specialty. Still, they couldn’t have too many. “Can you get a count?”

Cranky shook his head. “Four at least. Probably more. Too much dust.”

“You can beat them, Rarity!” Sweetie’s cheer turned into a coughing fit, presumably because of all the dust in the air. Rarity was beginning to feel a tickle in the back of her own throat, and resolved to keep quiet for now. She had no doubt Pinkie and Applejack had seen the enemy, who’d already disappeared into the hills.

Those Leapers would be out of the fight, for certain. They didn’t have the endurance of a Dust Devil, and a sprint like that would have surely taken up all their energy. That gave them an edge, and Rarity hoped the others in their group were smart enough to take advantage of it.

They exited the valley and began riding over and among the hills. The hostages followed Pinkie and Applejack like a line of school children after their teacher. Rarity suspected they’d scatter the instant the fighting started. If only they could have armed them all…

Abruptly, the direction of their travel changed. It seemed Pinkie was leading them on a new route to the south. This hadn’t been part of the plan, but Rarity didn’t question it. There could be no doubt that Pinkie knew the area better than they did, and if she thought an ambush lay ahead then Rarity could only trust the Major’s instincts. Even so, she reached down to ensure the safety strap on Silver Lining’s holster was loose.

Pinkie was sticking to the hilltops as best she could, leading them along ridges and ignoring the valleys. She was probably trying to ensure they’d see Cayenne coming. Rarity turned her head sideways. “Sweetie, keep an eye on everything to our right. I’ll watch the left. If you see any lizards or ponies out there, shout something immediately.”

“Okay!”

The hills and rocks continued to pass by, uneventful and uncaring. Rarity tried to keep the tension out of her body, but a continuous sense of dread and anticipation kept her on edge. Only four ponies to defend a couple dozen unarmed hostages. No matter how much she didn’t want it to be true, she couldn’t imagine a scenario where they all made it to the camp alive. There were simply too many to efficiently protect. Would it have been better for them to remain in captivity than to risk death like this?

The first shout came from the front. It was Pinkie, her voice somehow travelling all the way to the back of the herd. “Meanie pants to the left! Rarity, Cranky, we need you!”

Without a word, the two of them whipped the reins for some extra speed. Rarity looked out to the left and soon spotted Cayenne’s group riding at them from over a hill a little ahead of them. She counted eight riders, cursing under her breath. Applejack and Pinkie joined them, the four taking up a loose V-formation with Pinkie in the lead.

Applejack flung her head towards the hostages. “Nopony slows down! Y’all change course or slow down and you’re dead! Keep going and don’t wait for us!” She looked to Pinkie. “I hope there’s more to your plan than this.”

“Trust me, Jackie. Protect the hostages until they pass, then keep moving! I’ll handle the rest once we’re ahead of these meanies.” Not a soul mentioned that three of them were carrying unarmed passengers, but Rarity was certainly thinking about it. She released the reins and drew her weapons as the enemy disappeared from sight. They would likely meet atop the next hill.

Pinkie abruptly turned her lizard left while Applejack went right. The maneuver caught Rarity off guard, but thankfully Ophelia was ready and promptly followed behind Pinkie’s lizard while Cranky’s went behind Applejack’s. About two seconds later, Cayenne and her posse topped the hill, weapons all aimed in the wrong direction.

They were met by a lethal crossfire of lead. Within the first seconds, four of them went down, Cayenne included. The remaining half scattered to avoid running over their fallen, and Rarity brought down yet another rider just when they started firing back. As she counted bullets, an unhappy little pony in the back of her mind wondered at what point she was able to take a life without having to memorize faces and wonder about past lives.

The world was a cacophony of dust and bullets and screams. Rarity guided Ophelia into a tight turn on the side of a hill and headed for the center. One of the outlaws came at her with a rifle. Rarity conjured a shield well before the shot, then dropped it and gave him two hits with Ruby Heart. He doubled over in pain but remained mounted, riding past her and Sweetie with an expression of agony.

She looked away just in time to see Pinkie… on the back of an outlaw’s lizard? Before she could properly register the potential reasons for this, Pinkie cracked the butt of her baton on the mare’s head and sent her rolling off the lizard. The mare didn’t get back up.

There was a shriek. A familiar one. Rarity looked ahead to see Cayenne standing amongst her fallen brethren, mouth opened wide and eyes ablaze with fury. She held her bleeding side with one arm and aimed a pistol at Rarity with the other. Their eyes met, and Rarity saw the renewed promise.

You’re my enemy as long as we’re both breathing.

She charged, a shield rising up before her and Ophelia. Cayenne fired, and the shield flickered from the impact. Rarity didn’t flinch. Another shot. Another flicker.

Sweetie’s worried voice met her ears. “Rarity? What are you doing?”

Bang. Flicker.

“Rarity?”

Bang. Flicker.

Cayenne didn’t move. She just pulled the trigger, her eyes locked with Rarity’s as though she might channel her bullets into Rarity’s body by force of will alone.

Bang bang. Flicker flicker.

“Rarity!”

Bang. Flicker.

Cayenne kept pulling the trigger. No more bullets hit the shield. She threw her gun at Rarity and charged, shrieking as she did. And all along, Rarity felt no anger. She only felt pity as a quiet question drifted across her mind. What fills you with so much hatred?

She turned at the last moment. Cayenne slammed into her weakened shield from the side with enough force to shatter it, but the impact knocked her off her hooves. Wincing from a jagged pain in her skull, Rarity didn’t look back. She didn’t want Cayenne to know she was on Rarity’s mind. Let her think herself insignificant. Let her think that she stood no chance. Maybe then she’d finally give up her foolish, hateful mission.

A glance around revealed no other outlaws. Applejack came alongside her, uninjured and curling her rope as if it had just been used for some unknowable purpose. Winona was curled deep in her basket, perhaps for protection? “Glad to see you’re as capable in a fight as the stories say,” Applejack told Rarity, though her face bore no smile.

“Don’t compliment me,” Rarity growled at her, which turned the neutral expression into a disappointed, sad frown. For once, she felt no guilt.

“That went way better than I expected,” Pinkie declared, suddenly at Rarity’s left and back on her own lizard. “Everypony okay?”

Cranky thundered past them, his eyes straight ahead. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The blood running down his passenger’s side did the talking for him.

“Coco!” Rarity whipped Ophelia into a gallop.
> Episode 22: The Matter of Apples
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


12th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


The second part of Pinkie’s plan was in full swing. She’d fired off a colorful flare using her ‘party cannon’, and within seconds the artillery pieces at the base were pounding the hills and valleys behind the retreating band. If Cayenne and the Bad Apples were still alive out there, they would have a hard time pressing on through the barrage.

The noise was deafening, but Rarity hardly noticed it. All her attention was on Cerulean and the blood dripping from Coco’s side. They moved as fast as their sand lizards could manage, Cranky taking up a big lead as he urged Cerulean ever faster. Rarity’s heart throbbed with the thought that she might have gotten one of her dearest friends killed. Her mind ran on repeat: This is my fault. This is my fault. This is my fault!

No matter how she looked at it, all roads led to Rarity. Oh, she might have saved Coco’s innocence all those months ago, but was that worth it if she died here and now?

Oh, Sisters, Coco was going to die.

After what might have been an eternity, the base came in sight. Soldiers were lined up behind the palisades, ready and waiting for action as the guns continued to blast the distant hills. Idly, Rarity wondered if they would all get in trouble for acting so forcefully against the Gang, but she couldn’t worry about that now. Ophelia entered the camp right behind Cerulean, and the little pony in the back of Rarity’s mind noted that the hostages appeared to have all made it there safe and sound. Praise Luna for small miracles.

And curse her if she took her friend as payment! Rarity jumped off Ophelia, ignoring Sweetie’s calls, and hurried to help Cranky get Coco off Cerulean. “Is she okay? Coco, tell me you’re okay!”

Pinkie barreled onto the scene, her Dust Devil rearing back wildly when she forced it into a sudden stop. “Second Lieutenant! Somepony get Catharsis out here, now!”

Coco’s face was a hideous grimace of agony, and she cried out as Rarity and Cranky dragged her off Cerulean. They laid her down in the dirt, and she clutched Cranky’s hand in a deathgrip. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she sobbed.

“You’re okay, Coco,” Cranky told her, voice firm. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Grabbing Coco’s face and forcing it towards her own, Rarity urged, “Look at me, Coco. Look at me!” When the eyes managed to open at last, shining with fresh tears, Rarity spoke with equal firmness. “The doctor’s coming. You’ll get through this.”

“It h-hurts,” Coco hissed through clenched teeth. “Oh, Goddess, Rarity, it hurts!”

“I know it does, love.” Rarity pressed her forehead to Coco’s and took slow breaths, for both their sakes. “Just breathe. We’ll fix you up right as rain and you’ll be back to making pretty dresses in no time.”

“Out of the way! Everypony, give her room!” A stocky, silver-coated pegasus with an aqua green mane arrived. She dropped a medical field bag down next to Coco and shoved Rarity aside to get to the wound. As she eyed the injury, she spoke in a more motherly tone. “What’s your name, Dearie?”

Coco took a few sharp breaths before squeezing out a “C-Coco. A-am I going to die?”

“The names Second Lieutenant Catharsis, but you can call me Cathy. Don’t worry, I’m a doctor.” Cathy offered a sweet smile that had Rarity reeling. How could she look so calm and kind in the face of possible death? “Let me get a better look at this wound, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she plucked some scissors from her bag and delicately snipped a hole in Coco’s dirty blouse. Peeling the fabric away with great care, she revealed the wound.

Rarity had seen bullet wounds before, of course. Even so, it amazed her how seemingly insignificant the hole was. For that’s all it was, a hole. Larger than the one she’d put in Braeburn, but otherwise just a hole. Rarity would have thought—

A hand caught her shoulder, pulled her away. Jerking out of that grip, she turned around to find Applejack watching her. Those concerned green eyes lit a fire in Rarity’s brain, and she wasted no time letting it out. “Don’t you look at me like that, you hussy! Let’s not forget it was your ponies who did this.”

Rather than take offense to her lashing out, Applejack placed a hand on her shoulder once again. “Come on, Rares. You don’t need to be here for this.”

The hand was slapped away. “Like Tartarus I don’t! Coco is my friend, and—”

Cathy’s voice had none of its prior motherliness. “You three, bring her to the Cafeteria. I need her elevated.” She spun to face Rarity and Applejack just as they were turning their own attention on her. “And you two, stay out! The last thing I need is a pair of bickering ninnies distracting me from my work.” Without another word, she snatched up her bag and followed the soldiers and Cranky who were carrying Coco away.

Before Rarity could even take one step to pursue, Pinkie was in her path. Her normally cheerful face was marred by a deep frown. “I really think you should listen to Cathy, Rares. The last time somepony interrupted her during something like this didn’t end well.” She gave a little shudder, then pointed to the headquarters building. “You should rest up while I sort out what to do with the hostages. I Pinkie Promise, somepony will come to see you as soon as we know Coco’s okay.”

She hurried off to the group of weary ponies near the palisade being tended to by her soldiers. Rarity watched her go, then looked to the cafeteria. Coco had already been taken inside. That familiar little pony in the back of her mind was begging her to go in and watch, but she reprimanded that voice. Her knees were shaking and her breath came in little hitches. Her eyes burned and her throat felt as dry as the Great Salt Plains. She was on the edge of a breakdown, and that wouldn’t help Coco at all.

So, though her heart ached from the effort, she followed orders and plodded for the headquarters, her boots dragging in the dirt. The air thundered with the ongoing roar of the guns, but it all seemed so much quieter in her head. All she could think about was Coco and whether she’d survive and who was responsible for this whole screwed up fiasco.

She soon found herself in the stateroom, the most internal place in the headquarters. It muffled the sounds of the artillery pieces outside, but the chairs and tables still rattled from the vibrations. Choosing a seat at random, Rarity slumped with her head in her hands and tried to keep her emotions at bay. But Coco… dear, sweet Coco. Barely out of her teens, and now lying on some cold table and hoping she’d live to see another sunrise. It was all Rarity’s fault. If she’d moved faster, if she’d not joined Roma’s caravan, if she hadn’t dallied in Hoofington talking to Raven... Little hiccups threatened to become full on sobs. How could things have gone so horribly, horribly wrong?

Amidst the struggling gasps keeping her together and the earth-shaking booms of the guns, there came the sound of chairs being scooted into place. Rubbing her eyes, Rarity lifted her head. Applejack settled on the opposite side of the table, face solemn as she rested her elbows on the surface and watched her. Winona sat in the chair by her side, her chin on the table and looking weary.

“What are you looking at?” Rarity could only halfway sit up, but she channeled all her pain into what she hoped was proper venom-filled glare. “N-Never seen a mare at the end of her rope before?”

Pain passed across Applejack’s face, but it seemed more for Rarity than because of her. “I just thought you’d like some company.”

Rarity almost snapped at her, but bit her lip. After a moment of struggling to keep from speaking anything too rash, she finally settled on, “Better you than nopony, I suppose.” She did desperately need a distraction. Lowering her chin onto her hands, she asked, “Why are you really here? I’d have thought you’d have tried to kill me again by this time. Luna knows I’ve given you a few opportunities.”

“I never wanted to kill you, Sugarcube.”

Lifting her head, Rarity peered at the pony. Strange, she couldn’t detect any hint at deception. It couldn’t be true though. “I distinctly remember you hitting me with two bullets. Or was that an accident?”

Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one that demanded a duel in front of the entire town.”

Rarity sat up once more, her hands pressed tight on the tabletop. “If you really didn’t want to kill me, you’d have aimed somewhere else!”

A smile wormed its way onto Applejack’s face, smug and wry at the same time.  She reached over to pet Winona as she replied, “I hit exactly what I meant to hit.”

“Oh, is that… so?” Sucking in a sharp breath, Rarity reached up to feel over her chest where the two bullets had impacted it. Her fingers touched the metal through a single hole in the fabric of her shirt. She gaped at the gunslinger opposite her in startled comprehension. “You knew?”

“Pinkie Pie told me before the duel,” Applejack admitted, not losing her smile. “She knew I didn’t want to kill ya, but we had to make it look real.”

“You…” Rarity didn’t know whether to be furious at Pinkie or confused that she was still alive. Those two shots had been perfect. Only now did it really dawn upon her that if Applejack had wanted her dead, she would be already. She never stood a chance of winning that duel. “You threw the fight?”

Applejack’s face turned serious once more. “That’s not what Ponyville saw. As far as everypony else in Equestria knows, you won. That’s the story I want. That way when the rest of the Apple Family gets my letter stating that the Apples have no quarrel left with the Bulletproof Heart, they’ll accept that the hatchet’s been buried.”

Perhaps Rarity should have felt relief at that declaration, but all she really felt was muddled. “You mean the bounty will be lifted?”

With a heavy sigh, Applejack shook her head. “The Apple Family never had a bounty on you, Rarity. If we want revenge for blood lost, we get it ourselves. It’s the Bad Apples that put the bounty up. All I’ve done is keep my kin – those not in the Gang, that is – from wanting to put a bullet in you on sight.”

“I don’t understand.” Rarity pointed at herself. “I killed Braeburn. Me, with his own gun. Don’t you want revenge for that?”

Winona growled, and Applejack gave a derogatory sniff. “Braeburn was a punk, and more than that, in league with the Bad Apples. I did what I needed to in order to satisfy my kin, but frankly, he wasn’t worth a bushel of rotten apples. I’m glad to have this mess over and done with, just like I’m glad his perverted ways got him what he deserved in the end.”

“You’re one to speak about perversion,” Rarity growled, hands clenching into fists. “You think you’re better than him because you used a less violent method?”

That one made Applejack flinch. She brushed her hand over her blonde bangs with a sigh and slumped backwards in her chair like a puppet with the strings cut. Winona shot her a glance, eyebrows raised. “I swear to the Sisters, Miss Belle, I’ll do everything in my power to make up for that.”

“I don’t know how you possibly could,” Rarity grumbled.

They lingered in quiet for a time, only the sound of the rattling furniture and the artillery rounds coming between them. Thoughts of Coco, lying just a few hundred feet away and possibly on her death bed at that, threatened the tenuous stability of Rarity’s emotions. Seeking to defend herself from them, she turned her attention to her depressed-looking companion. The leader of the Apple Family was startlingly young. Rarity’s age, perhaps. How did one so youthful get to lead one of the great families of the Agricultural Elite, and why was she running around Equestria getting into duels and dirt and blood instead of having tea in Manehattan ballrooms?

And then another thought came to mind. Once it did, it ate at her until she had no choice but to ask. “Did you know who I was back in Hoofington?”

As if coming out of a trance, Applejack shook herself and sat up properly. She studied Rarity like she’d forgotten she was there, then sighed. “Yep, I knew. Had a feeling when I saw you at the bar with them guns. Then you told me to my face, and it was pretty clear it wasn’t the lie of some pony looking for attention.”

Rarity frowned at this. “So you knew I was your enemy even then, and yet you still… did that to me? Is it common practice for Apples to play with their food?”

“Y’all were never my enemy,” Applejack corrected patiently.

“So I was what? A toy for your entertainment?”

Pursing her lips, Applejack glanced away and rubbed her face in an anxious gesture. When her hand dropped away, her cheeks were hot pink. Her brow furrowed and her ears folded back as anger clouded her expression. It took a few tries before she was able to answer. “I wasn’t thinkin’.”

“Well, that much is obvious.”

Applejack turned to her, but rather than anger or frustration, her expression was suppliant. “Can I please just get my story out?” When Rarity said nothing, she looked away once more and resumed talking. “I wasn’t thinkin’. I couldn’t think. All I had in my head when I saw you at that bar was ‘it’s really her!’ I left the farm and spent weeks trying to find you, going on clues that you were headed for the city. I’ll admit, when I first heard of the Bulletproof Heart, I thought it was all rubbish. But the stories kept comin’ in, and I started to weed out the real ones from the fakes.”

She hunched down and turned away again, as though ashamed. “I… I got all excited. Finally, somepony out there was doin’ it right. I started gettin’ ideas of what kind of pony you were, making you out into somethin’… somethin’ I wanted you to be. I was infatuated with the idea of us joining together, drifting around Equestria fixing the wrongs and putting away the outlaws. Just like my granny did.”

Though the shame didn’t leave her face, Applejack managed to meet Rarity’s gaze. “When I saw you at that bar and got confirmation it was you, I… I sorta lost my head. I wanted to get on your good side. Impress you.”

Rarity, having been too embarrassed by this story to say anything before, threw up a hand. “You thought throwing me in a bed and having your way with me would impress me?”

“I know it looks bad!” Again, Applejack ran a hand across her scowling face. “I was stupid, and I’m sorry. But you were there, really there, and you were so much prettier than I thought, and I just… You didn’t say no!”

Rarity bared her teeth. “I was smashed.”

“So was I! Well, maybe not as smashed as y’all, but I’d definitely hit one too many bottles of cider that night, and my head was full of all these fancy ideas and you were hotter than the Scorched Plains and… and…” She clasped her hands together and dropped her forehead onto them, knocking her hat away. “I’m sorry! I swear to Celestia, Luna, and Discord, I’m more sorry about that than anything I’ve ever been sorry about! I knew I fucked up when I woke up and you were gone, but I’ll make it up to you, Miss Belle. Please, let me make it up to you!”

Rarity stared at the prostrate posture on display before her, unmoving even as Winona stared at her with big, begging eyes. By Mother Night, she might actually believe Applejack’s story. Which was patently ridiculous. It had to be a lie, a part of the scheme.

…what scheme? What could Applejack possibly gain by toying with her?

You’re being paranoid.

This is the pony who had her way with me. I have a right to be paranoid.

Do you really think she could fake that level of guilt?

I’m at the point where I’ll believe just about anything.

Good, then you can believe she feels horrible about it.

The internal debate crashed when she realized she had no counter for that last argument, save that she dearly wanted one. She couldn’t simply forgive what happened. “You took the last bit of innocence I had left.”

That blonde head lifted, but dropped to the table again with a thunk without ever revealing Applejack’s face. Her hands squeezed even more tightly together, as if this might sway Rarity’s opinion. Winona let out a soft whine, ever her master’s wingpup.

It achieved nothing. Setting her jaw and crossing her arms, Rarity spoke up once more. “I can’t just forgive you. I can’t even like you, not after what you did. I want nothing more than to be rid of your presence and never set eyes on you again.”

Applejack moaned, but said nothing and didn’t move. Her hat trembled and fell off the back of her head as the world shook from another round of artillery outside.

“That being said, I do believe you are sincere in your intentions.”

Both dog and master’s heads whipped up, revealing glassy but hopeful green eyes for the latter. She opened her mouth—

Rarity shot a hand forward with a raised finger. “Don’t. Say. One word.” Applejack’s jaw clamped closed. “Frankly, I don’t believe it is possible for you to make this up to me. If it is, it will take a lot of work on your part. I won’t make it easy for you. I think that’s fair enough, don’t you?”

Despite the hard words, Applejack gained a relieved smile and appeared on the verge of tears. “I think it’s mighty generous of ya, is what I think.”

“That makes two of us.” Her declaration made, Rarity promptly slumped forward, elbow on the table and hand to her forehead. “But if you don’t mind, I’m going to stay mad at you for the time being. It’s either that or thinking about how my best friend might be about to die.”

“I think I can take being your punching bag for a while.” Wiping her eyes, Applejack sat up once more and reached out to scratch Winona’s ears. “And Coco ain’t gonna die. I’ve survived a shot like that myself.”

“Forgive me if I’m not filled with confidence at the word of a complete stranger.” But the declaration did bring something else to mind, and Rarity peered at her companion’s shoulder. Still no blood. “Why aren’t you bleeding from that hit I got on you?”

“What, this?” Applejack smirked and tapped her shoulder as if in demonstration. “Earth pony magic. Threw up a toughenin’ spell the instant the first bullet hit. Hardest spell I know, no pun intended, and it only lasts for a hit or two, but it’s saved my life more than once.” Her eyes drifted to Rarity’s vest where Ruby Heart was hidden. “That fancy gun of yours took it out in one.”

A bulletproof enchantment for the body? Rarity was impressed. Applejack must have an unusually fine grasp of how earth pony magic works to pull off something that effective. “And your hip?”

Applejack frowned, her hand dropping under the table. Probably to feel at the spot. “Nope, that one was real. I’ve survived far worse. Just a scratch, really.” At Rarity’s narrowed eyes, she added, “Honest. All that motion was just me reactin’ to the surprise.”

Rarity sighed and nodded. She wasn’t sure if she believed the mare, but she wasn’t going to go out of her way to feel guilty and make a fuss over it. Still… “I could have killed you. You threw the fight, but you had no idea that I wouldn’t aim for the heart.”

“Beggin your pardon, Rares, but it wouldn’t have mattered if ya had.” Noting Rarity’s nonplussed expression, Applejack grinned and undid the top few buttons of her shirt before reaching in and pulling something up.

Rarity gasped at the familiar sight of a bronze necklace with cloud filigree. Set in the middle was a gemstone cut in the shape of a red apple that glowed dimly in the ill-lit room. “Y-you have one too?”

Applejack’s grin faded. “Too?” She snapped her fingers, and Winona hopped down from her seat.

“I thought you said Pinkie told you?” And come to think of it, how did Pinkie know?

“Pinkie just told me you had protection over your heart.”

Rarity promptly repeated Applejack’s actions, revealing her own bronze necklace. She noted with some satisfaction that the gem had regained and even deepened its purple hue. It had even changed shape a little, becoming more pointed at the top and bottom. Was it forming into a diamond, perhaps?

“Well, I’ll be.” Applejack grinned as Winona hopped back onto the chair with hat in mouth. She took the hat from the dog and carefully set it back on her head. “Granny told me there were more of ‘em out there, but I never thought I’d see another one. Where’d you get yours?”

All curiosity and pride crashed. Rarity rubbed at the gem, glad for the calm it now gave her. Strange, she hadn’t been feeling all that calm five minutes ago… “Coco, my friend currently under the surgeon’s knife, gave it to me right before I had to flee for my life back in Spurhoof.”

“Oh.” That was as much as Applejack seemed willing to offer on the subject, and the two drifted into an uncomfortable quiet.

This was interrupted by the door to the state room opening. “Rarity?”

Her head shot up, eyes settling upon the pink-maned filly peeking at her behind the door. “Oh, Sweetie!” She shot to her hooves and hurried across the room, sweeping her sister up in a hug. “I just left you out there, didn’t I? I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay, Sis.” Sweetie gave her a tight squeeze. “You’re not used to having me around, right?”

The statement was a knife through Rarity’s heart. She leaned back, holding Sweetie by the shoulders, and took in her dear little sister’s face. Sweetie was trying to smile for her, trying to be understanding, but her eyes put her own pain on full display. “Oh, Sweetie…” Rarity ran a finger along her sibling’s cheek, relishing the sensation of it. “I’ve been a terrible sister.”

Sweetie shook her head. “You were busy, that’s all. Mom and Dad said you were trying to earn the money to get back.”

“I wish that was true.” Settling on the floor, Rarity heaved a sigh and pulled her close once more. “This little adventure has taught me that I could have come home at any time. I just… didn’t. And Celestia herself couldn’t understand how I regret that. I missed you so much.” Her eyes began to burn once more.

“I missed you too, Rarity.” Sweetie squirmed a bit, getting comfortable in her sister’s lap. The fact that she was a little too big for that now only made the tears come even faster. “It’s okay, honest. We’re together now, right?”

But for how long? Rarity knew their time was short. If only she could find a way to bring Sweetie with her everywhere, could ensure her safety. An impossible dream, but one she would cling to. For a little bit, anyway. “Of course, Sweetie. Y-you’re going to have to tell me all about the years I missed. Did you… did you get your cutie mark, yet?”

“No, but who cares?” Sweetie pulled back to offer a grin, and this one was for real. “Forget me, I wanna hear all about you! I thought you were eating dirt when that bad pony shot you. How’d you survive that, any—wait.” Sweetie hunched over, eyes going wide as she looked over Rarity’s shoulder. “What’s she doing here?”

Rarity turned to see Applejack had moved to the far corner, her chair tilted on its hind legs, her boots on the table, and her hat over her face. A means of giving them privacy without actually leaving the room, no doubt. Winona lay on the floor by her side, though the dog watched the two of them with rapt curiosity. Rarity scowled, but decided not to risk another fight with the mare. “She and I had some unfinished business. And, I suppose, still do.”

Applejack’s ear twitched at that, giving away her eavesdropping, but Rarity didn’t bother to point it out. Instead, she returned her attention to Sweetie. “Don’t worry about her, Darling. We’ve come to an agreement. I promise, she won’t cause us any trouble.”

“She shot you,” Sweetie groused, hands balled into fists as she continued to peer at Applejack. “Twice. Are you sure?”

Not really. “I’m sure.” Rarity paused to properly examine her sister. Her naturally curly mane was a mess of dirt and grit. She wore a white dress with a thin, pink overshirt, both a mess of stains and hideously filthy. Not that Rarity blamed her, considering her company in the last few weeks. More importantly, Sweetie was taller, and had lost a good bit of the baby fat that had made her so cute as a child. Not that she wasn’t cute now, that is; her cheeks were no less round and soft and pinchable, something Rarity promptly tested with a grin.

“Rarity!” Sweetie jumped back, rubbing her cheek with the most adorable of pouts. “I’m fourteen, not four! You can’t do that anymore.”

Indeed, she wasn’t much of a child anymore. Sweetie was a teenager, just about ready to cross that tender boundary into proper adolescence. Goodness, she probably was on the tail end of puberty! So many important lessons that Rarity should have been there to help with. Was it even possible to make up for all the lost time?

“Did you really fight griffons?”

The question pierced Rarity’s thought processes and sent them flying in all directions. She stared at Sweetie’s eager, excited expression and felt a chill run down her back. “Excuse me?”

“Griffons! They say you fought a whole bunch of them off by yourself. And, and… fought a whole army of bandits outside Hoofington! Is it true?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. She couldn’t have her dear, innocent little sister getting interested in such things! “I, um… Well, some of that may be true, b-but—”

“Wo~ow.” Sweetie bounced on her heels with a giddy giggle. “My sister’s a gunslinging hero! This is so cool!”

“No!” A spike of horror brought Rarity forward to catch her by the shoulders. “No, Sweetie, it is not cool! It’s not cool at all, and you absolutely must not think otherwise!”

“What? Why?” If anything, Sweetie’s grin actually broadened. “You’re stopping the bad ponies! And looking amazing while doing it, of course.” That part with no small hint of pride. “Come on, Sis, what’s cooler than that?”

“I…” Rarity’s jaw worked, but proper words wouldn’t come out. How was she supposed to explain all of this? The fear and grit and pain of her life over the last few seasons? To explain it to Sweetie in detail would be… She couldn’t traumatize her like that. Absolutely not! But if she didn’t say something, Sweetie might start getting ideas. Ideas leading to actions, and then what?

“Rarity?” Sweetie’s smile vanished as she observed her sibling’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell ya what’s wrong, Sugarcube.” Applejack was standing at their side, her expression stern and her arms crossed. Sweetie jumped and hid behind Rarity, who only looked upon the unexpected guest anxiously.

In the absence of Rarity saying anything, Sweetie managed a halfhearted, “Y-you don’t scare me.”

“Good, I don’t like bein’ feared.” Applejack leaned forward, looking Sweetie in the eye. “But y’all tell me somethin’. How did it feel when you thought I had killed your sister?”

What kind of question was that? Rarity opened her mouth to speak, but Sweetie beat her to it.

“It felt horrible,” she admitted, her hands squeezing Rarity’s shoulders. “Like sompony had ripped a hole out of my heart.”

Not sure whether she needed to intervene, Rarity reached up to hold Sweetie’s hands and peered at Applejack. What was she doing?

“Yeah, it’s a terrible feelin’. And for you, it wasn’t real.” Applejack looked away, her gaze focused on something beyond the walls of the stateroom. “Now imagine how it would feel if you caused that pain to somepony else. How do you think that would make you feel?”

Sweetie whimpered and leaned against Rarity’s back. At last feeling as though she knew where this was going, Rarity said nothing.

Applejack gave her words a few seconds to sink in before looking down at Sweetie, expression somber and voice gentle. “Do y’all think Rarity enjoys it, Sweetie? Havin’ to hurt ponies all the time?”

“N-no…” Sweetie hugged Rarity from behind. “I’m sorry, Sis. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, Sweetie,” Rarity whispered, rubbing her sister’s arms. “A lot of ponies make that mistake.” Her attention went to Applejack, who had already turned away. As much as she didn’t want to give the mare any credit, Rarity had to admit it was a good first step towards building that bridge between them.

The door opened again. This time it was Pinkie who poked her head in. “Um, hey, girls,” she said apologetically. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Taking a big breath and patting her sister’s arm one more time, Rarity stood and turned to the door proper. “Of course, Major. What can we do for you?” The air shook with the rumble of artillery that, up until now, she’d completely forgotten about. “How’s Coco?”

“Still in surgery.” Pinkie used her hip to bump the door open, revealing a tray balanced in each hand. One held bread, butter and some vegetables. The other held a collection of cupcakes with purple icing. “Thought you girls might be hungry.”

Rarity’s stomach chose that opportunity to voice its agreement, much to her embarrassment. Soon the four of them were munching on what the base had to offer, which wasn’t that bad compared to what Rarity was accustomed to by now. The cupcakes in particular were delicious, and she decided to be naughty and eat three. Yes, three; one need not worry about gaining weight when she spent all her time travelling and eating carefully rationed amounts of food. Even Winona got one, and looked immensely pleased with the fact.

When they were a good ways through the lunch, Pinkie spoke up again. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I’ve got some bad news.”

Thoughts of Coco made Rarity tense up. “Y-yes?”

Pinkie pointed at the ceiling just when the booming round of an artillery piece shook the building. “Hear that? We can’t do that forever. In a few hours we’re gonna have the Second Battle of Ponyville.”

“She’s right,” Applejack said, sitting a bit apart from the others. Her face turned hard. “Y’all did good rescuin’ them hostages like that, but you also put Apple Split in a right bad spot. If he doesn’t at least try to get them back, Velveteen’s gonna rip him a new one.”

Sweetie fidgeted, her cupcake forgotten. “They’re gonna attack the camp?”

“Soon.” There wasn’t an ounce of cheer in Pinkie’s voice. She met Rarity’s gaze with all the seriousness the situation warranted. “Probably as soon as we stop shelling the hills. I bet they’ll be circling the town. If you’re going to leave, you need to do it before nightfall.”

A siege. Rarity had been in plenty of shootouts, but to get involved in an actual military engagement? The thought left a cold feeling in her stomach. And yet… “I put you into this situation, Major. It wouldn’t be proper for me to abandon you to it.”

“Now hold on, Rares,” Applejack interrupted.

“Don’t you ‘hold on’ me. I started this, I need to finish it.”

Sweetie’s voice, though so very quiet, caught her full attention. “B-but I don’t want to be anywhere near it.”

All eyes fell on her, and the cold of Rarity’s insides were joined by a squirming feeling. The desire to help Pinkie and the Sixth warred against her need to get Sweetie as far away from danger as possible. It would be the height of irresponsibility to let Sweetie stay here another minute, but the soldiers here defied their standing orders to help. She couldn’t just—

“There’s more,” Pinkie said, stalling Rarity’s inner battle. “The hostages need to get out of here. All the fighting’s going to be pointless if the Gang gets their hands on them again.”

Applejack grunted and stood up, stretched her arms over her head. “I think I see where this is goin’.”

Rarity did, too. “N-now wait a minute. What about the Sixth? Can you defeat the Gang? I can’t let you all sacrifice your lives over this!”

At that Pinkie smiled, although it was a wan one. “We won’t lose this fight, Rares. They might outnumber us three to one, but any military strategetigest worth her sugar knows it takes a lot more than that to win in a siege. The Gang has no discipline. The fight’ll last a couple days, tops.”

“Don’t lie to me, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity hissed, slapping her hand on the table. “You just said you want the hostages out of the camp so they can’t be recaptured. Why would you be worried about that if you thought victory was assured?”

“No victory is assured,” Pinkie replied just as quickly, but with no heat. “I believe we’ll win, but I might be wrong. I want you and AJ to escort the hostages out of camp tonight, while the guns are still going off.”

“It’s the smart thing to do,” Applejack added.

Rarity pointed a finger at the mare. “You stay out of this! What about Coco? I won’t leave her here!” She felt Sweetie’s grab her vest and looked down. Her sister pressed tight to her side, but she wore a determined frown. The message was clear; she’d back Rarity up on this. Even so, it left her more uncertain and fearful than reassured, for she’d been reminded that staying would put Sweetie in danger.

With a hand to her sibling’s shoulder, she focused her attention on Applejack. “You do it. Take Sweetie and the hostages and get out of here. I’m not leaving.”

Pinkie sighed and stood up. “Sorry to argue with you so much, Rarity, but yes, you are. I already talked to Cathy. Coco should be out of surgery in an hour or two, and the doc says she’ll be right as rain.”

All arguments faded as Rarity let that claim sink in. Coco would be okay! She sagged against the table and let out a long, slow exhale. The worst part by far had passed.

Pinkie pressed on. “Assuming nothing goes wrong. But nothing will, because Cathy’s an amazing fixer upper pony, and Coco’s owie isn’t all that bad.”

Rarity lifted her head to frown at the Major. “You choose your words in a way that is meant to achieve maximum positivity, don’t you?”

“Yep!” The Major grinned, and it was almost believable. Except for the strain in those blue eyes, eyes that were begging Rarity to stop fighting with her. “Coco will get all bandaged up, then we’ll put her in a wagon and she’ll go with you. She won’t be awake, but that’s probably a good thing. Riding around in a wagon after seeing Cathy’s not gonna feel too good.” She slumped a little, but regained her posture in no time. “But yeah, we’ll load you up with everything you need! Head back to Hoofington as fast as you can and we’ll keep the bad guys off your tails.”

Biting her lip, Rarity considered the situation and the opportunity presented. The idea of leaving the Sixth to deal with the aftermath of her actions felt… wrong. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to engage in such a large scale fight as this, and she really didn’t want to. But to run away like a coward…

“Rarity?” Applejack waited, perhaps to make sure she’d be given permission to speak. Rarity couldn’t silence her this time, for she was willing to take any advice she could get right about now. “You did what you came here to do. You saved Coco and Sweetie. But more than that, you saved a bunch of innocent ponies who were bein’ used as pawns. You have no idea how much you’ve hurt the Gang with this move. You’ve done good, more than most ponies could have hoped. It’ll all be worthless if you die before making sure the job’s done.”

Frowning, Rarity asked, “What job?”

Applejack merely pointed to Sweetie.

A moment of quiet passed as Rarity and Sweetie stared at one another. The world shivered and trembled to the blasts going on outside, each one making Sweetie flinch. Those precious green eyes spoke of fear and doubt. It suddenly struck Rarity just how brave Sweetie had to be to have offered to stay with her, even if indirectly, when she was so clearly unprepared to do so.

And upon seeing her kid sister’s shaking, Rarity knew she couldn’t possibly send her out of this place with strangers and no idea if she’d survived the coming fight. She’d already put Sweetie through a lot. To add to the list now would be nothing short of cruel.

With a heavy sigh, Rarity turned to Pinkie. “Alright, you win. I’ll go as soon as Coco’s ready. Supplies?”

Pinkie grinned and saluted. “Already being taken care of! While you wait, I think you should go visit the hostages. They’re all real eager to meet the pony responsible for getting them out of Ponyville, and it’ll do them loads of good to know you’ll be going too.”

“They’re not going to treat me like some kind of hero are they?” She grimaced at the very idea.

Applejack smiled and tipped her hat back. “Hate to break it to ya, Rares, but you are one as far as they’re concerned.”

“It was pretty amazing, seeing you win that duel,” Sweetie admitted, though she averted her eyes when Rarity glanced at her. If only she knew that Applejack had lost on purpose.

“Speaking of that,” the mare herself stated, “I think I’m gonna stay in here. They might not be so happy to see me around.”

Pinkie Pie giggled as she performed an acrobatic twirl out of her seat. “Don’t be silly, AJ! That’s my job, and I like my job. You helped defend the ponies against Cayenne and her gang, so you’re a hero too!”

Applejack hesitated, her eyes drifting from Pinkie to Rarity. “Well, I guess since I’m going with them, anyway…”

“What?” Rarity shook her head forcefully. “Oh, no, don’t even think about it. There is no way I’m letting you accompany me anywhere!”

A blonde eyebrow rose. Applejack turned to Pinkie. “Major, how many soldiers are ya sending to protect the hostages as they leave?”

All eyes turned to Pinkie, who hesitated and began toying with her tail. “Um, well, we really need everypony. I was gonna send a few to escort them out a safe distance, but then they’d have to come back before the circle closes. They do outnumber us three to one, y’know.”

“Right.” Applejack was facing Rarity again. “You plan on protectin’ all them hostages all by yourself?”

“But… You… I…” Rarity growled and rubbed her temple. How was she supposed to work with this pervert if she didn’t even want to be in the same room as her? “I’ll have Cranky with me, I’m sure.”

“Ah, two to protect a couple dozen. Much better.”

“Listen, you—!” A tug on her hand brought Rarity up short. She glared down at Sweetie, who flinched but didn’t stop hugging her arm. The sight of her sister’s concern dumped water on her fire, and she took a moment to collect herself. She needed to be tolerant… for now.

Settling her firmest expression on Applejack, she all but growled her answer. “We’ll leave together. But once we’re well away from danger, we will have another talk about this, and that will obligate you leaving my presence.”

Applejack pursed her lips and studied Rarity through narrowed eyes. After a while she shrugged and relaxed her posture. Whatever her thoughts on the matter, she kept them to herself.

Pinkie clapped her hands with a grin. “Great, that’s settled! Now, how about those hostages, huh?”

It took some effort not to groan at that prospect. Still, Rarity had to admit that it would be worth it if it gave the ponies some good cheer. Who knew what they had been through so far in the care of the Bad Apples? If her going over to say ‘hello’ brought a little happiness to their lives, she couldn’t deny them. Plus, she abruptly realized, going to talk to them now might give her an opportunity to mitigate the rumors that had been spreading about her. Who better to correct the record than a bunch of ponies she’d personally rescued?

Despite Pinkie’s prodding, Applejack decided not to join them as they went to the barracks where the hostages were being housed. Pinkie only went so far as to escort them there before running off to continue preparations for the inevitable Apple Gang retaliation. Sweetie held Rarity’s hand as they went inside, holding her head up high and looking quite proud. Rarity refrained from chuckling at her manner.

The hostages – former hostages? She really needed a different term for all of them – were settled in a few large rooms near the barracks entrance. Recreation rooms, going by the billiard tables and other objects of entertainment, many of which had been pushed against the walls to make room for the guests. The Sixth’s medical teams were busy checking out the various ponies, making sure they were healthy, while another group could be seen through a doorway providing food and water. Other hostages came out of a back room, wet but clean (well, cleaner).

Rarity watched the scene, abruptly realizing… she’d done this. These ponies were going home because of her. If she hadn’t insisted all the hostages be freed, they’d still be hidden and unknown in Ponyville. How should she feel about that? Proud? Relieved? Another, darker thought struck her: was rescuing these two dozen ponies (oh, and one griffon! She was coming out of the bath area now) worth the lives of those who would be killed in the coming battle?

It took a moment for anypony to notice her, but when one did, so did another, and another, until all activity in the room had ceased. Rarity’s insides churned as every single pair of eyes locked onto her. Were it not for the ongoing blasts of the artillery outside, the room might have gone completely silent. Was she expected to say something? It wasn’t like she’d prepared a speech. Why were they just gaping at her? She really should have stuck to the headquarters. Being trapped there with Applejack didn’t seem quite so bad anymore.

The stillness came to an end when one pony, a tall yellow mare with a sandy brown mane, walked up. She paused, staring at Rarity with wide, glassy eyes. Her lips moved, but no sound escaped. At last, she came forward and embraced her, leaving Rarity no less stunned for it.

“I’ve been trapped in that place for five years,” the mare whispered into her ear. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I…” Not knowing what else to do, Rarity gingerly returned the hug. “You’re welcome.”

With that, the floodgates were opened. The ponies hurried to meet Rarity and offer their gratitude. Handshakes, hugs, one teary-eyed elder stallion even kissed her hand. How interesting, that a gesture she’d once fantasized about coming from a charming young noble was now her most embarrassing moment of the day. The ponies ranged widely in age and appearance. The elder stallion had to have been in his seventies whereas the youngest was a filly that couldn’t have been more than six, clinging to the skirts of a middle-aged mare who confessed to not being related to the child in any way, but having taken care of her since her arrival eight months ago.

A great many questions were asked. How did Rarity know where they were? Was she really the Bulletproof Heart? How did she survive getting shot twice? What was she planning to do next? She answered to the best of her ability, sticking to facts when she could and being vague when she deemed it necessary. So yes, she was the Bulletproof Heart, but she wasn’t about to reveal all her survival secrets. They seemed perfectly willing to accept her dodges when she offered them, perhaps as a way of acknowledging their debt to her. At least, that’s how one of the mares put it.

When the rush of ponies finally died down, Rarity found herself standing aside from them all save for a lone grey-coated, dark-maned mare with a pleasant Trottingham accent. It appeared she was the impromptu leader of the hostages. Her collected manner and authoritative tone certainly helped with the image. “So you really didn’t know we were here? Then why were you in Ponyville at all? Most ponies avoid it at all costs.”

Rarity smiled and nodded to Sweetie, who was talking excitedly to the younger ponies in the next room. Boasting about her ‘awesome’ sister, no doubt. “They took my little sister and my friend Coco. I wasn’t about to let that stand.”

The mare set hands to her hips as she watched the foals. “Well, we’re all lucky they had you watching out for them, Miss Heart.”

“Belle, actually. Rarity Belle.” If there was anything she was no longer worried about, it was admitting her real name. She was reasonably sure the entire Bad Apple Gang knew it by now anyway. “And you would be…?”

“Octavia Melody.” Octavia gave a small curtsy, managing to make it look graceful and pleasant even in the ugly brown and white dress she was wearing.

“Oh!” Rarity pushed her hat back to get a closer look at the mare. “You’re that cellist who disappeared a year back, the one headlining the Manehattan Orchestra. Isn’t your mother a political figure?”

“Which is exactly why the Gang decided to kidnap me and drag me here,” Octavia replied with a grimace. “It makes me ill to think of what they are forcing my mother to do in the name of my safety, but the fact I’ve not been dragged away in the dark of the night tells me she’s been meeting their demands.”

The image that offered cast a dark shadow on Rarity’s thoughts. “Does that really happen? Ponies spirited away?”

“Plenty.” Octavia crossed her arms and glared over pursed lips at nothing in particular. “It’s happened half a dozen times since I was brought here. We aren’t told what happens to those who are taken away, but they never come back.”

The thought sent a fresh shiver down Rarity’s spine. Torture? Just plain death? Or perhaps sold in slavery to the griffons. At least everyone appeared healthy, generally speaking. No protruding ribs or obvious injuries. Which brought to mind… “The entire endeavor suggests a significant investment by the Bad Apples. I mean, they had to feed, clothe, and shelter all of you.”

“At bottom bit, I assure you.” Octavia picked at her dress with a scowl. “Our clothes are all hand-me-downs the outlaws didn’t want anymore, the food is the same gruel every day twice a day, and our cells did nothing to protect against the cold… or provide privacy.” She sighed and shrugged. “But then, I’ve heard from some of the others here that there are far worse places to be imprisoned, so I guess the Gang gets a little credit.

“As long as you’re an earth pony, that is.” She pointed to one mare sitting in the corner and nursing a bowl of soup. Rarity flinched at the sight of a jagged shard poking through her bangs. “They knocked Jasmine’s horn off with a hammer for fun.”

Whatever respect for the Bad Apples Rarity had been harboring died. Her horn tingled, a phantom ache brought on by just the idea of that happening to her. She looked away and tried hard not to think about it. Horns could grow back, true, but with damage like that it could take over a decade. “I’m so glad I got you all out of there.”

“As are we.” Octavia hesitated, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know you said you don’t know what’s going to happen next, but… do you have any idea at all?”

“All I know is that we – everyone here – will be leaving within a few short hours. The Major thinks the Gang will attack the base soon in an attempt to get you back. I intend to have you all long gone before that happens. After that? I have no idea.”

With a light hum that was rather nice on the ears, Octavia took another cautious look around. “They’ll all want to go home as soon as they can, of course. I don’t think anypony will object. But let’s keep it quiet for now, let them enjoy the fact they are free at all before worrying about that.” She looked to Rarity with concern. “I heard your friend got shot in the escape.”

The unspoken question was as clear as could be. Rarity placed a hand over her necklace, rubbing at the gem through her shirt and letting her worry bleed out a little. “I am told she’ll be fine. We’ll be taking her with us. I refuse to leave her here.”

“Of course. I am pleased to know she’s okay. I would hate to think your actions today might come at such a great cost.”

They fell into companionable silence after that, watching as the former hostages went about the process of feeding and cleaning themselves along with their celebration of freedom. A few came over to thank Rarity again, which she tried to accept with grace and humility. One overenthusiastic colt of perhaps nine years wrapped her in a hug and refused to let go for nearly five minutes, and then only after Octavia bribed him with some of the cookies being offered by the base cooks. All told, there were twenty-six hostages, ten of whom were foals under the age of twelve. And then…

“What’s her story?” Rarity tilted her head towards the door farthest from where she and Octavia stood. From the other side occasionally peaked the head of the young griffon hen, her manner ever-anxious. Rarity had seen her accept the food and go for a bath, but generally she kept away from the others even when they tried to talk to her.

Octavia smiled warmly towards the griffon, who promptly ducked her head back behind the doorway. “Ah, that would be Roan Quill. They brought her in only a few months after me.”

With a concerned frown, Rarity asked, “She’s been here almost a year but still hides from the others?”

“Actually, she’s hiding from you and the soldiers.” Octavia chuckled at Rarity’s nonplussed looked. “She has trouble with new faces. Once she warms up to you, she may be the sweetest child you’ll ever meet. Nothing like the stereotypical griffon.”

Curious. Rarity watched the door for a few seconds, making no attempt to hide her interest. She was eventually rewarded by Roan peeking at her once more with wide eyes. An attempt to wave at the young hen only led to another quick retreat, but Rarity didn’t mind. It was kind of cute, really. “What would the Apple Gang want with a griffon hatchling?”

Octavia shook her head. “She says her uncle is the Tribe Talon of the Ashfeather Roost.” At Rarity’s cocked head, she added, “Yes, I’d never heard of them either. She claims they live in the Siren’s Fin just south of Mareami and are engaged in an ongoing war with the Buffalo. She also claims she doesn’t know a thing about griffons kidnapping ponies, but she may have simply been unaware.”

Rarity crossed her arms and considered this possibility. Her mind drifted back to the griffons that had briefly captured her and the rest of Long Horn’s caravan. Oh, Sisters, that seemed like an eternity ago. If she recalled correctly… “The griffons I ran into were trying to drive us north. I don’t think they were part of the same Roost. Which is interesting. I had no idea there was more than one Roost in Equestria.”

With another of her melodious hums, Octavia asked a nonchalant, “Are those the ones you defeated to save a caravan?”

Ugh, why could nopony get that one right? “I didn’t single-handedly rescue that caravan,” Rarity grumbled. “It was a group effort. Someday I’m going to set all these rumors about me straight, I swear to Celestia.”

“Now would be a good time,” Octavia noted, making a sweeping gesture to the ponies around them. “Everyone here is going to spread your name far and wide after this. Any place in the four corners of Equestria that doesn’t know your name soon will. You just need to tell them all the truth.”

“And believe me, I would love to take advantage of it.” Even as she said it, however, Rarity began rubbing her necklace and shrinking in on herself. “But I’m not sure how. If this were something I loved doing, that’d be one thing, but I’m not comfortable with this life, and I fear they will glorify it and me.”

“That’s entirely possible.” Octavia watched her with a lecturing frown, hands on her hips. “You can’t ‘correct the record’ without accepting that what you’ve done is going to amaze everypony who hears it.”

Groaning, Rarity lowered the brim of her hat to hide her eyes from Octavia’s. “And what would you suggest? That I stand up on a table and regale everypony about my exploits? Rescuing all of you is the one thing I’m proud of, and even then my heart aches when I think of the soldiers who have to pay for that.”

Yet another musical hum. Octavia seemed to do that a lot. She lowered her head, lips hidden behind her fist as she thought. After a few seconds of this, she snapped her fingers and turned away. “Peachy, could you come over, please?”

Peachy was a unicorn of a pale green complexion (Spring bud, Rarity. We must keep practicing our colors!) and a two-toned amber mane. Unlike poor Jasmine in her corner, Peachy still had her horn, though it was marred by a pair of cracks, one of which ran all the way up to its tip and brought the phantom soreness back to Rarity’s own horn. Despite her injury, she was all bubbly smiles. “Hey, Octy! And Bulletproof, I just gotta say how great it is to be out of that place! Thank you again, thank you so much.”

Recalling this pony had already thanked her twice, Rarity gave a strained, anxious smile and nodded. “You’re very welcome.”

Octavia wasted no time getting on topic. “Peachy, your brother owns a newspaper in Seaddle, right?”

Peachy nodded vigorously, her ears flopping. Rarity imagined she’d get along well with Pinkie. “The Hornblower Gazatte! Inherited from our grandfather, bless his pea-picking heart. Probably why those goons kidnapped me in the first place.”

Octavia faced Rarity once more. “I know from experience that Peachy Pitt here is phenomenal at telling stories. You can tell her the truth, then she can spread the news in her own… ‘emphatic’ way.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Peachy rubbed her hands together with a gleeful grin and eyes that might have had actual stars in them. “I can be Bulletproof’s Boastful Bard! You like that? Made it up on the spot.”

Rarity tried to keep her scowl at bay and the bite in her tone weak. “I would prefer ponies not think of me as boastful, thank you.”

“Suit yourself, I can come up with others pretty easy. Oh, The Heart’s Hearty Hawker! No? Rarity’s Raconteur? Eh, not mainstream enough…”

“Whatever the name,” Octavia said with a chuckle, “Peachy can spread the real stories you tell her to the rest of the hostages, that way they only get the truth. And when it’s all said and done, she returns to Seaddle to get an official news article out there with your stamp of approval.”

“Oh!” If Peachy’s eyes had stars in them before, now they might have held whole galaxies. “Equestria’s first real interview with the Bulletproof Heart. Do you have any idea what my brother would give up for a scoop like that? It’d be the article of the decade. No, the century! Now you’ve gotta let me do this!”

Despite her misgivings, Rarity couldn’t deny the mare’s enthusiasm was infectious. She dared a smile and glanced about the room at all these ponies going to their respective homes. Proper stories of what she was doing and why. It almost felt like a public relations strike against the Bad Apples. At the very least, she might earn the sympathy and support of ponies across Equestria, which in turn might make run-ins with bounty hunters less frequent.

…at what point had ‘Bulletproof Heart’ become a brand name? The very thought made her uncomfortable, and her enthusiasm promptly waned. She wasn’t fighting a one-pony war against the Bad Apples. Her sister and Coco were safe – well, almost – so now she could get back to what was important.

Then again, ‘what was important’ largely involved avoiding getting killed by none other than the Bad Apples. Maybe she really was at war with them. A war which they started, but a war nonetheless. A cold bitterness filled her as she imagined having to spend the rest of her life fighting for nothing other than survival. Not much to celebrate there.

“Miss Belle?”

“Bulletproof?”

Shaking herself from her negative thoughts, Rarity focused on Octavia and Peachy once more. “I’m willing to do this,” she said with a glower. “As long as you stick to the truth.”

“You have my word. And don’t worry, I’ve got an excellent memory.” Peachy tapped the side of her head with a lopsided smile. “You tell it, I’ll tell it right back. So, you wanna start right now? What do you wanna share first?”

Rarity hesitated, her thoughts drifting to Coco and the journey they’d soon be making. How much longer did they have? Pinkie had said ‘a few hours’, which surely had passed by now. “Let’s wait until later. I’ve got some things to get ready for, and a friend to keep an eye on.”

Peachy’s disappointment was plain on her face, but she traded it for a smile quickly and nodded. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss!”

The boss? By Celestia’s mane, I pray not. She didn’t want to lead anypony right now, much less two dozen hostages.





Half an hour later, Rarity was lingering outdoors near the cafeteria, braving the cacophony of the artillery in hopes that she’d be able to see Coco as soon as she was ready. Her patience – or at least willingness to be frustrated by the noise and the occasional stare of a passing soldier – was rewarded at last when Second Lieutenant Catharsis emerged from the building and gestured her over. The first thing Rarity noted as she approached was the weariness apparent in the doctor’s slumped shoulders and worn expression. Even so, the mare smiled after ushering Rarity into the small entry hall.

“Your friend is going to be fine,” Cathy declared with no small hint of pride. “I had to do some invasive surgery to remove the bullet shards and some of the cloth of her shirt to prevent infection, but she was lucky enough to not have anything important damaged.”

Heaving a sigh and feeling an entire day’s worth of tension leaving her, Rarity slumped against the wall and silently thanked the Sisters for this. Several ponies had told her similar things, but only now that she’d heard it from the surgeon herself was she willing to accept it. “You have my most sincere and heartfelt thanks, Second Lieutenant. How is she now?”

Cathy smiled tenderly. “Sleeping, and you’re very welcome. I had our nurse hit her with a sleep spell so that she wouldn’t feel me digging around her insides. And given the stress her body has been through today, I fully expect her not to wake up until at least tomorrow, maybe later.” The smile faded for a stern expression as she crossed her arms and took on an authoritative, straightened pose. “Now, the Major tells me you intend to travel with her.”

Rarity returned the frown, pushing herself off the wall. “Not my idea, let me assure you. I wanted to stay here and help hold the fort. Or camp, as the case may be.”

“It goes against my professional opinion, but the Major insisted,” Cathy replied with a roll of her eyes. “And when the Major insists on something, it happens regardless of who disagrees. That’s why I have Staff Sergeant Iron Dust preparing a wagon to carry her as you travel. Riding on a sand lizard is sure to reopen her wound, and I shudder to think of a bunch of amateurs trying to put that back together. Coco’s very fragile right now, you understand?”

The Second Lieutenant was speaking as if Rarity were completely ignorant of the situation, but she elected not to let this bother her. After all, she was only concerned for her patient, as well as trying to ensure her apparently challenging task of the last few hours didn’t amount to nothing. So Rarity only nodded and said, “I understand. We will be as careful as we can be.”

Just as she finished speaking, the door to the outside opened. Pinkie walked in, her hard expression not suiting her at all, or so Rarity concluded. The Major paused upon seeing the two of them, then nodded at Cathy. “I heard Coco’s out of surgery. How soon can she be moved?”

No effort was made to hide the bitterness in the Second Lieutenant’s answer. “Against my better judgement, immediately.”

“Good. When you leave, tell Captain Fall to inform the civilians. They move out in forty-five minutes. All the supplies they’ll need to get to Hoofington’ve been prepared. The shelling will stop an hour after.”

So soon? “Will that be enough time?” Rarity asked. “Coco will be in no condition to move quickly.”

“It’ll have to be,” Pinkie replied solemnly. “We’ll be practically out of ammunition by then.”

“Then I better get to work preparing this place to receive casualties.” Cathy turned for the door. “The eggheads at Command didn’t give us anywhere near enough supplies for an encounter like this.”

She was stopped when Pinkie placed a hand on her shoulder. Pinkie offered a small smile to the scowling surgeon. “Get some rest, Second Lieutenant. You’ve trained the staff well enough to get the job done without you, and you’re not going to have much time. I can’t have my superior medical officer dead on her hooves when the real fighting starts.” When Cathy’s scowl deepened, Pinkie added a quiet, “That’s an order.”

With a heavy sigh and an unpleasant “Major”, Cathy left the building. Rarity watched her go with a sense of foreboding, then turned to Pinkie. The Major’s ears were flat against her skull and her mane had somehow lost some of its curl. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Pinkie shook her head and returned a strained smile. “I hate having to be serious. I got my cutie mark bringing joy and happiness to everypony around me. Being responsible like this is… hard.”

Rarity wasn’t sure how to answer that. She thought on Maud and Marble Pie and the way they spoke of Pinkie as being very capable. Had they ever seen this side of their dear sister? Probably. Maybe not. She wondered if they knew how a life of leadership was affecting their fun loving, playful sibling. Granted, Rarity hadn’t known Pinkie for very long, but what little she had seen suggested she’d never been meant for this.

The Pie sisters. She’d last written to them in Bitter Ergot. She’d intended to write them while here, but… how could she explain that their sister was about to engage in a dangerous battle because of her actions? If they hated her for it, she could hardly blame them. She only hoped they wouldn’t pass that anger on to her parents when they inevitably arrived. It would be a few weeks yet before that happened.

And all of that led to one last topic Rarity had been hoping to address for some time. “What’s going to happen to the Sixth when Hoofington finds out that you’ve willingly engaged the Bad Apple Gang?”

“Nothing good,” Pinkie admitted, slumping a little more. “If I know the big wigs right, they’ll court marshall me and a few others then recall the Sixth to be replaced by a more trustworthy brigade.” Just as Rarity was about to offer her apologies, however, the Major perked up and grinned, her hair returning to its normal vibrancy. How does she do that? “Or at least they’ll try!”

Rarity’s words got caught on her tongue at this unexpected and upbeat turnaround. After a moment of wrangling them back down her throat, she managed to bring out an “I beg your pardon?”

Pinkie nodded enthusiastically. “The thing to remember about the Sixth is that we all wanna be good ponies. We think the Bad Apples and other gangs in Equestria need to be stopped, not catered to, especially when they aren’t even paying for the service. And we’re about to get a real taste of what that means for the first time ever! Do you think we’re gonna stop just because a bunch of scaredy ponies with general stars on their epaulets told us to? No ma’am!”

The mare shook her head forcefully before looking at Rarity with a fire in her bright blue eyes. “When this party’s over, I’m spreading the word. What I did in Ponyville is already almost mutiny, so I’m making it official. Anypony who wants to join me is free to do so, and those that don’t won’t get into any trouble because, hey, it’s not their fault their Major goaded the Gang into attacking, right? Everypony wins!”

Rarity felt her insides squirm at what she was hearing, and she whispered a brief apology to Maud and Marble for what she’d brought about. “Not everypony. You have certainly lost! You’ll lose everything. Your pay, your hard-won position in the army, the respect of your peers. You’ll be a fugitive. Whatever will you do then?”

“Find this.” Pinkie’s finger darted forward to touch the necklace under Rarity’s shirt.

Rarity stepped back, hands going up to feel the hard plates of the jewelry. “This? Whatever would you want one of these for? What good does that do you? You don’t even know if there are anymore.”

“Yes, I do,” Pinkie responded with absolute conviction. “There are six Elements of Harmony, and three have already been found. I know I can get one.”

Elements of Harmony? She’d just jumped to that conclusion? Or perhaps there was more to Pinkie’s knowledge than she ever expected. Rarity had to admit, Spike’s claim felt a little more plausible these days, but Rarity still had her doubts. After all, the Elements each represented something. What was Applejack supposed to represent, Honesty? What a laugh. “And how do you know this is an Element, or that there are more out there?”

Her doubt did nothing to phase the Major’s enthusiasm. “There are six Elements because the Church of Mother Night says so.”

In afterthought, Rarity realized that was a thoroughly legitimate point.

“Aaand my mentor Rutherford told me that I was destined to get one, so it must be true!”

Aaand there went Rarity’s potential for belief. “Rutherford,” she replied in deadpan. “Another pony happened to tell you that you are to get an Element of Harmony, a mythical object that has been lost for hundreds years, and you just believe him?”

Pinkie giggled. She snatched Rarity’s hat, patted her head playfully, then put the hat back on. “No, silly! Rutherford’s a yak.”

“A yak.” Rarity’s faith dwindled down to nothing. “Pinkie Pie, yaks are extinct.”

“I know, everypony says that.” Pinkie pulled out her hatchet and baton and displayed them to Rarity like trophies. “But if they were, would they have taught me how to fight with these, hmm?”

Frowning, Rarity pointed at the hatchet. “That’s a buffalo weapon. Distinctly and clearly not yak.”

Pinkie leaned in close and raised an eyebrow so high Rarity wondered if it wasn’t somehow defying physics. “Is it? How do you know? Are you an expert on buffalo and yak weapons now?”

“Ah, um…” Rarity stared helplessly at the items, realizing that at least one way the Major had a point. “M-maybe not, but Pumpkin is clearly a hatchet, and buffalo use hatchets. I at least know that much from having met them before.”

Demonstrating her mastery of the weapon, Pinkie twirled the hatchet from the bottom of the handle on one finger, watching Rarity with a smug expression as she did. “And how do you know the buffalo didn’t get the idea from the yaks, hmm?”

Rarity raised her finger to offer an argument, paused, let out a groan. Why were they discussing this nonsense? “Let’s just settle on this as a difference of opinion, shall we? We both have work to do.”

“Right.” The grin disappeared as Pinkie replaced her weapons in a blink. “The Staff Sergeant should have the wagon ready by now. Go check on Sleeping Beauty, I’ve got a few more things to do before you go.”

Feeling a little guilty about Pinkie’s abrupt lack of excitement, Rarity bade her farewell and entered the main hall of the cafeteria, a large room predictably filled with rows of tables. A pair of soldiers, presumably the nurses, were busy rearranging the area. Perhaps they intended to make this the field hospital?

Her speculation came to an end at the sight of Coco lying on an isolated table, Cranky sitting close by and holding her hand. He raised his head upon their approach, greeting her with his trademark scowl. “There you are,” he groused. “I was starting to wonder.”

“Don’t blame me,” Rarity replied with mild humor. “I’d like to know why you got to stay in here and hold her hand like a doting father while I was forced to wait outside.”

“That’d be because you were two seconds away from getting into a fistfight with that Apple mare.” He ignored her glower and turned back to Coco. “Doc said she’ll be fine if we’re careful.”

“Indeed. We’re going to move her now, and then we’ll all have to go before the Gang attacks the camp.” Rarity looked down at Coco’s sleeping form. They’d cut away the waist of her shirt, leaving the bandages around her midsection exposed. They were remarkably clean. Rarity had expected to find more blood. It was a relieving reminder that the Second Lieutenant and her nurses knew what they were doing.

As her examination reached Coco’s face, she felt a growing sense of unease, as though she’d made some catastrophic mistake that couldn’t be identified. Coco’s slumbering expression, neither smiling nor frowning, brought forth a disturbing vision to Rarity’s mind of that same pony upon a bed of roses. Still. Silent. Cold. The full weight of that momentary vision nearly sent her to her knees, and she soon realized her hands were shaking.

This did not go unnoticed by Cranky. “Miss Belle?”

“She could have died.” Rarity’s hands grasped at air, as if the mere motion might relieve some of her anxiety. “I’ve been trying to deal with so much at once, the sheer fact of it has just been… background noise. B-but she could have died. I—”

“It’s not your fault,” Cranky noted gruffly, watching her with a firm frown. “Don’t you go blaming yourself for this.”

“That’s not what concerns me, although it certainly should.” Hiding behind hands that refused to stop trembling, she let in a slow breath. “What have I become? My best friend has been in surgery all this time and I’ve been thinking about everything except that.”

Cranky’s brow furrowed as he considered this. “So? You’ve had a lot to deal with.”

“That’s no excuse!” She reached down to hold Coco’s hand, taking some comfort in its warmth. “What would all those ponies we’re about to lead out of here think if they knew their ‘hero’ was so callous as to not be there for her dear friend in her time of need?”

“Okay, this shit needs to stop.” Cranky stood and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to face him and look into his hard gaze. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re not a bad pony. If anything, you’ve become a better pony over the last few months.”

Shoving him back with an ease that surprise her, she gestured emphatically to the unconscious Coco. “You call this a sign of improvement?”

For the first time since she’d known him, Cranky raised his voice. “Where would she be if you hadn’t come here? What would her life be like if you’d not chosen to stand up for her and the others, if you’d just run away to hide in some hole until the Gang found you and killed you? I promise you, this is far better than being in the clutches of those hooligans! No, wait.” He waved his hand in her face just as she opened her mouth to speak. “Let’s take it back even further! Where would she be if you’d not come to Mooisville looking to save her? You know as well as I do that the minute the Gang believed you didn’t care about her she’d be facing an entirely different disaster, only then with your little sister and parents added to the mix.”

“But I—”

“And further still! What do you think would have happened to her if you hadn’t shot Braeburn? Where would you both be?”

As much as Rarity wanted to, she could not answer. Any potential words that might refute his point eluded her. Perhaps they didn’t exist, but even so the fact she could say nothing left her feeling very small. She looked down at Coco and flinched at the needle poking her heart. “You can say all of that, and it might even be true. But they don’t make this hurt any less.”

He snorted and poked her shoulder. She didn’t budge, to her mild surprise, though it did hurt. “That’s what makes you so strong, Miss Belle. You knew, long before any of this started, that the route you chose would be painful. Can you deny it?” He paused, perhaps waiting for an answer, only to continue when she offered none. “You knew. You could have sat down and took the punishment that was coming, but instead you went out to face it head on, to not let a bunch of bandits and crooks dictate your future. That might make you the single strongest individual I’ve ever met, but you’ve got to realize it!”

Was she strong? Perhaps. But… “I hate being strong.” Staring at Coco’s unconscious form, she fought a losing battle against the growing pain in her chest. “I hate this life and being the Bulletproof Heart and knowing that my decisions led to the pain of others. I know that it’s either them or me, but that doesn’t make me enjoy giving it, nor does it excuse when innocents like Coco get caught in the crossfire. The only thing I might hate more is the Apple Gang for bringing me to this.”

After a moment’s consideration, he said, “That’s a very dangerous way of thinking, Miss Belle.”

She huffed. “So even my thinking is dangerous now?”

“For you, yeah.” He tapped himself on the side of the head. “It’s poisoning your mind. You need to get over this—”

“What? Get over what, Cranky?” Her hands clenched into fists. She refused to look at him, instead focusing on keeping her tone civil. “I think I have every reason to be upset right now, thank you very much. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to start moving Coco outside. It should be almost time to go.” She turned away, prepared to walk around the table to get to Coco’s other side, only to stop. Applejack stood in her way, staring at Coco’s sleeping form. Her ears were folded back and her gaze gloomy. “Oh, great. I suppose you have something to add now?”

Applejack glanced at her. With a voice so quiet as to barely be heard over the ongoing artillery barrage, her response was a simple “Wagon’s here.” She then grabbed Coco’s legs and waited, her eyes hidden behind the brim of her hat.

Rarity waited a couple seconds, but Applejack said no more. She considered telling her to take her filthy hands off Coco, but decided against it; carrying her carefully might require all three of them. So she stepped around the table and, with Cranky’s help, lifted her friend up by the shoulders.

As they left the cafeteria together, Rarity wondered how many others would end up hurt by her mere presence in the near future.
> Episode 23: Rising Steam
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


12th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


The sun had just kissed the horizon when Rarity and her entourage were ready to leave the base. She rode at the lead with Applejack while Cranky took up the rear. Coco, still unconscious and accompanied by Sweetie, was carried in a covered wagon in the center of the formation, surrounded by a half-dozen ponies who had volunteered to take up weapons and protect her. Pinkie had granted them all military rifles for the purpose. With them travelled a dozen soldiers from the base, six to a side to protect the makeshift caravan’s flanks while they made their way south as quickly as they could in the rough, hilly terrain.

Captain Frost Fall led the soldiers, but she didn’t travel by sand lizard. Her blue body blended well with the darkening sky from below, though her pink mane did her few favors. She flew high above them, barely a speck to Rarity’s eyes, to watch for potential attackers.

Pinkie had to stay behind. The base was still hers, and she wasn’t about to leave it under threat. She’d given all the travelers a cupcake apiece and wished them well, but Rarity had noted the worry in her eyes. Even now, riding at a steady canter into the growing darkness, she wondered if that concern was for her or for her base. Probably both.

They rode in silence. To Rarity, it was an oppressive sensation. Not only because the Apples could appear at any time, but also because she could outright feel the hope and trust the former hostages were placing in her. Her, a mere tailor who had yet to succeed at much of anything, except perhaps having a piece of jewelry that somehow resisted the efforts of bullets to shatter it. She didn’t want this responsibility.

Not that anypony seemed to mind what she wanted. After all, she was the ‘hero’ of the day. She was expected to step up. And she did, but she still didn’t know why. The general ‘why’ was obvious: she couldn’t leave all these ponies (and one griffon) to fend for themselves out here. But the more personal ‘why’ eluded her. What made her feel as though she needed to ensure their safety? Why did she make it a task for herself?

What in Celestia’s name drove her to keep helping these ponies?

The easiest answer was ‘it’s the right thing to do’, but Rarity was gradually losing her faith in that response. It was too simple, too canned, and hardly satisfying anymore. The more she travelled and fought, the more it seemed like being the good pony made others dislike her and want her dead. Being good… was it enough? Sacrificing her home, her career, her simple and clean life, and possibly her literal life, just because it was ‘the right thing to do’. Rarity didn’t know anymore.

Applejack, who had not said a single word since Rarity’s fight with Cranky, shot her a wary glance. “You okay over there?”

Rarity didn’t deign to look at her. “No, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

There was a long quiet between them, and Rarity began to think that the matter had been dropped. Just as she was about to resume her brooding however, Applejack spoke up again. “You either talk about it, or I unleash my secret weapon.”

That earned her a deadpan look and a raised eyebrow. “I’ll call your bluff just for the sake of learning what this secret weapon is.”

“Alright, you asked for it.” Flicking Moonshine’s reins, Applejack led the vermillion sand lizard ahead a few paces, the result being that her Border Collie, curled up in a ball in her basket, was now even with Rarity. “Winona.”

The dog poked her head up, looking to Applejack with an expression combining curiosity and eagerness in equal measure.

“Gitter!”

With a happy bark, Winona leapt out of her basket and right onto Rarity’s lap. She barely had time to squeal in horror before the canine reared on its hind legs, placed its forepaws on Rarity’s shoulders, and assaulted her face with licks. Rarity had no choice but to relinquish the reins as she desperately fought off the dog’s affection.

“No. No! Down! Sit, stay, stop! Ick, this is hardly sanitary!”

Her admonitions and pleas went ignored, Winona’s tail wagging wildly as she lavished Rarity’s hands with more sticky kisses. Her face became a furnace as others in the convoy began laughing at her expense. “A-Applejack – eww! – do something!”

Applejack was grinning like this was the best thing to have ever happened to her, but she eventually let out a shrill whistle. Upon hearing it, Winona ceased her saliva-infused assault and leapt back into her basket. She sat up tall and looked immensely proud of herself, especially when Applejack reached back to pet her head. “Good girl, Winona. That’s my little attack dog.”

Trying to shake her hands free of ickiness and horribly aware that her shirt and jeans were now covered in dog fur, Rarity used her magic to snatch her hat from where it had fallen on Ophelia’s flanks and shove it back onto her head. “Y-you… you rube! You uncouth, uncivilized plebeian!”

Visibly unaffected by the string of insults, Applejack tipped her hat forward with a smirk. “Why, thank you kindly, little lady.”

“If you ever do that to me again, I swear I’ll—” Rarity stared at her foe’s smug smile and felt the fire go out. The ponies behind them, soldier and hostage alike, were still chuckling at the antics. She realized that her reaction was only making things worse. Groaning, she turned forward once more and examined her moist hands. “I feel so dirty.”

“You’re always dirty,” Applejack pointed out. “Kinda comes with the roamin’ gunslinger life, Sugarcube.”

Her reply came in a growl. “This is not the same kind of dirty.”

Though her smile faded a touch, Applejack didn’t appear any less satisfied by the turn of events. “Hard to believe the same pony who took out a bunch of bounty hunters defending her parents’ place is a princess. Here.” She retrieved a flask from her belt, tossing it to Rarity.

She caught it in her magic and examined it with a scowl. “What is this, then? Cider, I bet.”

“It’s water,” Applejack countered with a roll of her eyes. “Neverendin’, so don’t worry about runnin’ out.”

That made Rarity’s eyes go wide. “You mean it never runs out of water? How?”

Applejack’s smile turned proud. “Don’t rightly know, but you can thank my little sister Apple Bloom for it if’n ya ever meet her. She knows all kinda zebra hoodoo and potion-makin’. Something to do with enchantin’ two bottles and lettin’ one fill up the other. Kid’s a genius, I swear to Luna.”

Not sure whether to believe this wild story, Rarity nevertheless unscrewed the cap and tilted the flask over her hands. Water, pure and crystal clear, poured out. She gave it a moment, fully expecting the flow to cease. But it kept going.

And going.

And going.

“My goodness.” Scrubbing her hands clean, Rarity was beset by a wave of delight. “This is amazing! I might have to meet this sister of yours to procure one of these for myself.” She took a moment to splash the endless torrent of water on her face, rubbing herself clean as best she could with her hands and being careful not to get any on her shirt. She wanted to get rid of dog slobber, not put on a show.

Once reasonably happy with her physical state, she returned the flask to its ever-smiling owner. “Thank you, Applejack. But I’m still upset with you for siccing Winona on me like that.”

With an exaggerated gasp, Applejack turned back to pet Winona, who had by now curled back up in her basket. She adopted the kind of tone one might when addressing an infant. “Don’t wissen to her, Winona. She liked it, she just won’t admit it.” Rarity’s ‘hmmph!’ prompted another chuckle.

A thought did come to mind for Rarity, though. “If a bottomless flask is possible, why does your sister not produce them for the masses? Ignoring the fortune to be had, she’d be making travel across Equestria easier for everypony involved by a huge margin. I mean, we have weight-reduced packs and produce-preservation spells. This seems like the next step.”

Sobering quickly, Applejack shrugged. “Produce-preservin’ spells are simple enough, any half-skilled unicorn can cast them, but how many ponies do you know actually have weight-reduced packs?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, sure. Anypony else?” At Rarity’s uncertain expression, she elaborated. “You can’t just cast a spell and get an enchanted backpack. Again, I don’t know the details, but Apple Bloom once spelled it out for me pretty clear-like: every part of the pack has to be enchanted before its sewn together, and then in exactly the right way to make sure the enchantments play nice with each other, or else all you get’s a pack like any other. It ain’t easy, and it don’t come cheap.”

Having never properly investigated how her own bags she bought in Hoofintgon worked, Rarity had to acknowledge Applejack’s explanation made sense. “So I suppose the bottomless flask is similar?”

Applejack’s face scrunched up as she considered the query. “Well, yes and no. For one, it’s not so much an enchantment as it is a—” A pause. She cast a warning look at Rarity. “Now this is her term, not mine, so it don’t mean what you probably think.” At Rarity’s deadpan stare, she sighed. “They call it a fetish, okay?”

It was Rarity’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yes, Applejack, I have heard of fetishes. Please don’t presume my mind to be in the gutter.”

With a light snort, Applejack glanced away and whispered, “Well, it was you who kissed me, so I just figured…”

The heat in Rarity’s cheeks had nothing to do with the sun. Even acknowledging she probably wasn’t meant to hear, she couldn’t stop herself. “What was that?”

Applejack sat up straight and turned her eyes to the sky. “So where is that captain, anyway? Figured she’d come down to report something by now.”

Attempting to fix her companion with a hard glare failed to get any answers, so Rarity grudgingly decided to let the matter drop. By this time the sun had almost disappeared beyond the horizon, apparently deciding a kiss hadn’t been enough. Oh, no, I really am starting to think in naughty terms. I need to get away from Applejack as soon as possible.

Turning her eyes up, she quickly spotted Captain Frost flying lazy circles. Now that she paid attention, she realized the artillery back at the base had stopped firing. She glanced back, but beyond all the ponies following close behind she could see nothing of the base itself. Her eyes lingered on the wagon for a few extra seconds. Would Coco really be okay with all this travelling in her condition? Octavia rode close to the wagon speaking to Sweetie, who was leaning out the front. They seemed to be enjoying one another’s company.

Would that it could be her, but Rarity was needed up front. After all, she was the ‘leader’, or so everypony seemed to think.

“Incomin’.”

At Applejack’s terse warning, Rarity returned her attention to the sky and saw that, indeed, Captain Frost was diving for them. Applejack shared an annoyed glance with her as the two undid the safety clasps on their respective weapon holsters. Not two seconds later, the captain was hovering between them, her large wings creating billowing gusts that sent their manes flying and forced Rarity to hold her hat on with one hand.

“There is an Apple party coming in from the west,” Captain Frost stated sharply, her manner as cool as her namesake. “They are a pretty big group. Fifty of them, maybe more.”

“Fifty?” Rarity slapped a hand over her mouth and glanced back at the others, but they didn’t seem to have heard. With a brief sigh of relief, she turned back to Captain Frost. “That’s more than twice our number of armed ponies. Please tell me you think we can avoid them.”

“Only if we are lucky and keep quiet,” the captain explained, her expression grim. “It looks like they will pass behind us, but they are intentionally going up hills, so if we happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time they will spot us for certain.”

Applejack, appearing grim, asked, “Maybe if we sped up?”

“We can’t,” Rarity told her. “Not without risking Coco.”

She got a shrug in response. “Her wound ain’t fatal, remember? And we’ve got the goods we need to patch her back up if the rough ride reopens her wound.” At Rarity’s glare she asked, “What?”

“I’d like to avoid that option if at all possible, thank you.” Rarity turned her eyes behind them once more. “What if those of us armed all lined up at the back of the wagon? A show of force might ward them off.”

Captain Frost scoffed. “Have you ever fought Apple Gang ponies?”

Rarity almost snapped back at her, but then thought about her past encounters. Full Steam seemed pretty confident in his ability to beat her, and she wasn’t about to forget the over eagerness of Cayenne. She wasn’t sure that having greater numbers would help at all in these matters seeing as she’d never faced the Apple Gang in any situation other than outnumbered.

Then again, was she willing to risk the lives of Captain Frost’s ponies in making a stand?

Seeing her hesitation, the captain gestured to herself with a thumb. “How about letting the ponies with actual military experience and training make this call, hmm?” Taking no offense to the mildly condescending tone, Rarity nodded.

Captain Frost pointed to the large hill up ahead. “Stop the caravan behind that. You should have just enough time to hide behind it should you pick up the pace. Me and my party will turn back.”

“What?” Rarity shook her head vehemently. “I prefer a plan that doesn’t involve you and yours getting shot to ribbons, thank you very much.”

The captain’s eyes grew harder, no longer full of ice but instead a fresh heat that vented through her words. “Do not lecture me on the risks of military maneuvers, Bulletproof. In case you have forgotten, that party is out here because they are trying to attack Camp Ponyville from all sides at once. I guarantee you, that is not going to be the only group coming this way. If we do not go back now, we risk being walled out by the Gang, and we will not be any good to the Major out here.”

She turned around to face the rest of the caravan, but maintained pace with their lizards. “We go back now, get their attention and let them chase us back to the camp. They do not have the discipline to do much else, and they certainly will not suspect us of trying to lure them away from you. This is your best bet at getting these civilians to safety.”

Rarity didn't like it. She didn’t like it at all. Scrambling for some alternative plan, she managed to come up with just one thing. “But if you hid behind the hill with us, then maybe you could—”

“We do not have time to argue about this. I do not care if you are a hero or not, I am the ranking officer and I am getting my soldiers back to camp now. I strongly suggest you pick up the pace before you lose your window of opportunity.” Captain Frost flew off before Rarity could offer any further debate, pausing above the wagon to bark orders. The soldiers turned their lizards around and were away from the caravan within seconds.

“Come on, Rarity,” Applejack said. “Looks like the decision’s been made for us. Let’s go!” She cracked her reins and hurried ahead. Rarity, knowing when she’d been beaten, followed suit.

They called for a halt once they were on the opposite side of the hill. While the majority remained near the wagon, the armed ponies hurried to the crest of the hill and got down on their bellies to watch for threats. Settled between two mares named Pina Colada and Sour Sweet, Rarity observed as Captain Frost led her soldiers over a distant hill and disappeared. All was silent for some time… but then some distant gunshots were heard. The sound left her sick to her stomach – how many ponies had just been killed to let them escape unscathed? – but it looked as though the plan worked. For now.

Though the threat seemed over, Rarity hadn’t forgotten the captain’s warning that more of the Gang were likely on their way. They needed to get as far away from Ponyville as possible before stopping for a proper rest. As far as she was concerned, that meant going until first light. So, after briefly checking to ensure Coco’s injuries had withstood the rough travel and updating Sweetie and Octavia, she got the ponies moving again.

She tried hard not to think about what was probably happening near Ponyville at that very moment.





The sky began shifting from black to orange. Nopony complained when Rarity and Applejack finally called for a halt. Even ignoring the excitement of finally being free from the Apple Gang, most of them hadn’t had any sleep in nearly twenty four hours. Some had fallen asleep on their lizards, and the foals in particular had to be handled carefully lest they fall from their mounts.

The one thing they lacked in abundance was proper tents. They settled down in what shade they could, typically beside their lizards or the wagon. Rarity donated her two tents to some mares and foals who couldn’t find a decent place to lie down, though she imagined it would be a tight fit with four ponies apiece.

Rarity spent a little time with Sweetie and Coco, the latter of which still hadn’t awoken. It was worrying, but Sweetie did her best to keep Rarity distracted by talking about all the things she’d missed in the last few years. It turned out that the reason Sweetie had been so keen to talk with Octavia was because she’d developed her own talent for singing. She gave Rarity a few quiet samples of what she could do, and the elder sister was nothing but impressed. Sweetie made no attempt to hide her pride, and it was abundantly clear that she loved to sing.

And yet she still lacked a cutie mark. Rarity refrained from offering a lecture on the matter, sure her parents had already done that plenty of times as it was.

She sat in a snoozing Ophelia’s shade, Sweetie at her side and doing her best to stay awake despite her visible weariness. “I’m gonna be famous like you someday,” the young mare declared after a yawn.

“Maybe not like me,” Rarity chuckled, her arm wrapped about her sibling. “I’d rather you didn’t learn to use a gun.”

“No, not like that,” Sweetie agreed, snuggling into Rarity’s side. “But my own way. By singing.” She tried grinning up at her, but it didn’t quite come out right as she struggled to keep her eyes open. “I could be famous like… like the Angel of Elysium. Yeah, that would be great. But without the bandit raids and stuff.”

It took a bit of effort not to inform Sweetie that the Angel of Elysium was not only alive, but was now one of her friends. She wondered if she might ever convince Fluttershy to let Sweetie come to the oasis. That would be a delightful treat for the both of them, she imagined. Despite Fluttershy’s rough manner, she suspected she’d be good with children. Like an overprotective mother hen.

“Rarity?”

Pulled out of her daydream, she smiled down at her barely conscious sister. “Yes?”

“Are we going to be a family again?”

A hot knife dug its way into her heart, wrenching and twisting for maximum effect. Rarity’s throat closed off on its own accord, leaving her gasping breathlessly for a few terrible seconds. “I… I-I…”

“Being a family would be nice.” Sweetie shifted into a more comfortable position, lips set in a tiny smile as her curly bangs drifted before her closed eyes. “Just the four of us again…”

Rarity closed her eyes tight, willing the tears away as her sister finally fell asleep. Once sure that Sweetie wouldn’t wake up from a little jostling, Rarity very carefully lifted her up and deposited her in the wagon, where she would be secure and shaded. She gave the filly a kiss on the forehead and whispered, “Someday, Darling. I promise.” With one last look at the ever-sleeping Coco, she went back outside.





Rarity had taken the first watch, despite the insistence of both Applejack and Cranky. She’d wanted to take the time to think and be alone. Besides, she’d already had experience staying up for outrageous lengths of time at a stretch, so this hardly bothered her. She spent the time walking circles round the makeshift camp, occasionally greeted by a few other ponies who couldn’t sleep or whom had decided to help keep watch first.

Octavia, though unarmed, was among the latter. She met Rarity atop a hill north of the caravan, where the two watched for Apple activity. They got exactly that, in the form of a cloud of smoke rising in the distance. It could only be the siege of Camp Ponyville.

Perhaps sensing Rarity's frustration, Octavia said, “It’s not your fault, Miss Belle. This—”

“Miss Melody,” Rarity countered tersely, “please, do not try. I’ve heard enough platitudes and attempts at comfort to last a lifetime. I know what I am responsible for, and I will deal with it in my own way.”

Though visibly unconvinced, Octavia let the matter drop. The two watched the smoke rise, and Rarity wondered how well Pinkie’s soldiers were handling themselves.

It was some time before Octavia spoke again. “Sweetie should be getting her cutie mark any time now.”

Rarity wasn’t inclined to smile, but she was at least glad for the distraction from her increasingly dark thoughts. “I noticed you’ve taken a liking to her.”

“I have, indeed.” Octavia flicked her dirty mane, her manner as regal as ever. “I was thinking, maybe when she has her cutie mark she can come to Manehattan. I could put in a few good words and get her some proper training. I’ve no doubt that with the right connections she could make a fine career out of her voice.”

That did make Rarity smile, but only briefly. It was a delightful idea, but… “I’m sure Sweetie would appreciate the opportunity, but I don’t think it can happen right now.”

Octavia hid her surprise well, but not quite well enough as she turned ever so slightly to Rarity. “Why?”

Hugging her knees to her chin, her eyes trailing the lazy stream of smoke, Rarity replied, “They kidnapped my sister once. They’ll do it again, and next time they’ll make sure I can’t find her so easily.”

A light breeze brushed by as Octavia thought on her answer. “I appreciate your position, Miss Belle, but with all due respect, you can’t protect her forever.”

No, no she couldn’t. “I can try.”

The regal air faded as Octavia sighed. Her brow furrowed as weariness and worry crept into her gaze. “And what about Sweetie’s happiness? Is it worth keeping her close and safe if she’s miserable? She might grow to hate you with that kind of treatment.”

Of this, Rarity was very aware. “But what else am I supposed to do?” she whispered, pressing her face to her knees. “I can’t let my family suffer for my actions, but if I protect them then they’ll suffer anyway.” And she hated herself for it. There seemed to be no simple answer. Every path before her contained hidden risks and threats. How was she supposed to navigate in such a toxic environment?

An environment of her own making. If she could just settle things with the Bad Apples… but no, they were distinctly opposed to any such reconciliation. And if they had been willing before, they certainly wouldn’t be now that she’d rescued their hostages. Things were only going to get worse for her, and that meant her family was going to be at an even higher risk!

She’d already warned Spike before they left the camp. She was bringing Sweetie and Coco to him. Her parents, too. They’d be safe with him.

Safe.

But not free.

Would they come to hate her for this?

Octavia placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Have you considered the Apple Family?”

Raising her head and brushing away fresh tears, Rarity looked to the formal mare. “What?”

“The Apples.” Octavia nodded, her face solemn. “I understand you and Applejack have… ‘differences of opinion’ right now, but who would be more willing to protect your family from the Gang than the family the Gang is always at odds with?”

As much as Rarity hated to admit it, that was a good point. She’d never considered it before, especially with her extreme dislike of Applejack, but… she was just one mare. Surely the rest of the Family would be better behaved, and even if not, they would have great incentive not to let Sweetie and their parents fall back into the Gang’s hands.

But could she really trust somepony else to protect her family? Well, somepony who wasn’t a dragon, at least.

“I’ll… keep it in mind,” she conceded at last. “But I’m just not sure what to do yet.”

“Of course.” Octavia smiled, a warm expression that Rarity imagined would melt a lot of stallions’ hearts. “Just remember to think of what Sweetie would want. Perhaps you should ask her.”

That might actually be a good idea. “I may, yet.”





Before resuming their trek, the group leaders – Rarity, Applejack, Cranky, and Octavia – got their heads together to decide on what to do next. There’d not been a chance to plan for this before, what with the threat of the Apple Gang looming over their collective heads. Now seemed as good a time as any. Rarity made it clear that she did not intend to head for Hoofington, if only because she needed to get Sweetie Belle and Coco together with the rest of her family in Rockstead. Or so she claimed, anyway; she wasn’t about to reveal her connection to Spike.

Octavia agreed to lead the caravan east and to Hoofington, but she couldn’t do it on her own. She was unfamiliar with the region. Moreover, the former hostages would most certainly feel more secure if at least one of the ‘gunfighters’, as the other three were being collectively referred to, came along. This led to a quiet but fierce debate over who would be responsible for that. Rarity preferred Applejack being the one to go, if only for entirely personal and selfish reasons. Applejack preferred to stay with Rarity, claiming she’d feel better about her ‘debt’ if she at least helped get Sweetie and Coco to their destination. Cranky didn’t want to leave Coco – he seemed to have developed something of a fatherly instinct regarding her.

Unable to resolve the argument, the four elected to postpone the decision for later. They still intended to head south for a few days, after all, in order to be absolutely sure they wouldn’t cross paths with any Apple Gang bandits trying to find them in the east. The theory went that if they travelled far enough south, they could skirt the potential search area entirely and make it to Hoofington unnoticed. They continued to travel at night, just in case there were pegasi seeking them out during the daylight hours. It wouldn’t help against thestrals, but Applejack insisted the Gang almost never accepted the nocturnal race amongst their ranks.

It was dawn of the second day when they saw the smoke in the distance. It rose up in a thick column that gradually widened the higher it got. Rarity, this time accompanied by Cranky, called a halt and sent word for Applejack and Octavia to come forward. Once they were together, she wasted no time. “I’ve seen that kind of thing before. Last time around I ended up getting blamed for the total destruction of an Apple Caravan and had to fight against an ambush.”

Cranky, more grim than usual since their argument the morning before, nodded. “I’ve seen that kind of thing, too. Too big to be a campfire.”

“And too close to be old work,” Applejack added with a scowl of her own. “We could make that in just a few hours.”

“Which means whoever is responsible is not far away,” Octavia concluded. Nocturnal riding hadn’t been kind to her; she appeared ready to fall asleep on her Dust Devil. She stifled a yawn. “That does not make this seem an ideal place to settle for the day.”

Rarity looked back at the crowd, who were settling themselves down for what they probably expected to be the rest of the day. Many of them appeared exhausted. Clearly, they weren’t prepared for this kind of travel. “I’d hate to have to run them ragged like griffon slavers.”

Applejack tilted her hat back to peer at the smoke. With her frown and hard eyes, she looked as if she had an unpleasant theory regarding the source. “Then how about two of us go check it out?”

“I take it you’re volunteering?” Cranky asked, though he did not sound opposed to the idea.

“Yeah, I am.” Lowering her hat once more, she turned back to the group with a solemn expression. “At the very least, it’d give us an idea of what we’re up against, if anythin’.”

“If anything?” Octavia’s query went unanswered.

After some consideration, Rarity nodded. “We can let the others rest, but keep an active watch. If there is an enemy out there, I’d like to get the drop on them for a change. I’m accustomed to this kind of thing, so I’ll go.” It only dawned upon her after saying it that she was taking nearly all the risk upon herself. Again.

“I’ll stay with the others,” Cranky said, though it only took his passing glance at the wagon for everyone to know his reasons. “But I expect you to come hurrying back if it looks like more trouble than you can handle.”

“I’m goin’, too.” Applejack met Rarity’s suspecting scowl with a neutral look. “I want to check somethin’ out there.”

“Then it’s settled?” Octavia looked relieved when nopony spoke, perhaps because there was no argument this time. “Very well. And if you two aren’t back by sunset?”

“Continue without us,” Rarity said without hesitation, and Applejack nodded. Cranky grimaced, but said nothing.

When it became clear that their path was set, Applejack blew a quick whistle through her fingers. “Down, girl.” Winona, who had been snoozing in her basket, promptly awoke and jumped off her perch. “Guard dog. Wagon.” The canine let out a single bark and went running back to Coco’s wagon. At the startled expressions of her companions, Applejack smiled and shrugged. “I don’t keep her around just for her looks.”





Only when they were long out of sight of the caravan did Rarity turn her attention to Applejack and ask, “What exactly are you expecting to happen out here?”

Applejack didn’t return the look, her expression as hard now as it had been when she’d first said she’d be coming along. “I know who wiped out that caravan the papers blamed on you. I wanna see if it’s the same pony.”

Pony, singular? Rarity’s curiosity grew, but the demeanor of her companion suggested that Applejack didn’t intend to say anything more than that for now. They settled into a silent ride, Ophelia and Moonshine trotting side by side as the column of smoke gradually grew closer. They still had a few hours yet before they got there, so Rarity distracted herself with thoughts of what they might find.

Could the Gang have gotten ahead of them somehow? But if so, it would make no sense for them to attack someone else and give away their position. Unless they thought the group they were attacking was them. And that still assumed a lot. It could even be that they were all wrong about this, and the smoke was related to something benign… or at least neutral to their interests. Rarity didn’t hold onto hope for that.

They travelled in silence for over two hours before they finally reached their destination. Approaching through a small valley among the rocky, dry hills, they came upon what had once been a campsite. There were tents and fires that had died some time ago. The latter was certainly not the source of the smoke. No, that dubious distinction went to a large pile of blackened bodies on the eastern edge of the camp. Rarity had seen it coming thanks to the familiar reek it produced, noticeable even before the camp had met their eyes.

Her stomach attempted to rebel. She had a much easier time holding it down this time. Not that she considered that a good thing, as it only indicated an apparent adaptation to the foulness. She climbed off Ophelia and walked among the tents, checking for potential survivors. She found none.

When certain that nothing would be found, she approached Applejack. Her companion remained on Moonshine before the burning pile of pony corpses, her hat lowered over her eyes but not concealing the disgust on her face. “It’s the same,” Rarity told her, staring solemnly at the shriveled and blackened remains of what she thought might be a mare. “Just like the Apple Caravan I ran into a couple seasons back. Smaller in scale but identical in every other way.”

Applejack didn’t move a muscle save to ask, “Did you find any feathers?”

What a specific thing to look for. Pursing her lips, Rarity thought back on everything she’d seen. Now that Applejack brought it up…

She went back to one of the tents, this one collapsed with the rope snapped. She’d inspected said rope before, and it had been a clean cut. There were bullet holes in the tent, along with bloodstains. Her best guess was that the perpetrator of the crime had used a knife to cut the rope and collapse the tent, then shot the ponies within while they were confused and tangled in the dense canvas. Dried streaks of blood on the rocks and tent suggested the bodies had been dragged out.

And there, amongst the drag marks in the sand, lay a lone orange feather, held in place only by a lump of tent that had fallen on half of it. Rarity freed the feather and brought it to Applejack, still staring into the fire. “Here. I recall finding one just like it at the other caravan.” Back then, she’d thought the feather belonged to one of the victims. That Applejack would ask for it specifically…

Climbing off Moonshine, Applejack took the feather between two fingers and studied it. Her grimacing glare was fiercer than anything Rarity had seen from her yet. “As I thought.”

Looking between the feather and Applejack, Rarity began to grow frustrated. “So do you know who did this or not?”

With a start, Applejack looked at Rarity as if she’d forgotten she was there. “Right, uh, sorry.” She offered the feather back. Rarity took it in her magic. “Pretty sure it belongs to the Flamin’ Vermillion.”

Rarity gaped at her companion, the returned her gaze upon the burning pile. There had to be at least a dozen ponies in there. It didn’t seem conceivable. “W-why would a former member of the Rainbow Gang do something like this?”

“Because they were Bad Apples.” At Rarity’s questioning look, she pointed to a rifle that lay in the dirt nearby, apparently dropped in the fighting. “That’s Apple Ginny’s gun. That would make this her posse. Bandits, but of the less triggerhappy sort. Strange that they were this far north from their usual huntin’ grounds.”

That only brought about more questions. Like why would Applejack know the individual posse leaders? And it didn’t answer the main question. “What does the Vermillion have against Apples?”

Applejack’s eyebrows rose. “You really don’t know? I thought that was common knowledge.” At Rarity’s shrug, she tipped her hat down to hide her eyes. “Well… I don’t know all the details. Best I can tell ya is that she lost somepony important right after the Battle of Ponyville. Way I heard it, the Gang went after her family. Vermillion didn’t get there in time.”

That… might be a worthwhile reason. To be angry. But not for… this. Rarity gazed at the burning corpses once more, a sick feeling in her gut. “Has she tried to kill you?”

“No.” The haunted look on Applejack’s face made it clear she was glad for that. “She spares me and my closest kin, ‘cause of her respect for Granny.”

Her ‘granny’? “And why would she have respect for your grandmother?”

“You mean—” Applejack sighed, removed her hat and shook her head as if disappointed. “You really don’t know anythin’ about the Rainbow Gang, do ya?”

With a pout, Rarity turned away from the flames and stalked off, if only to try and get away from the smell. “I can’t say I do, no. Forgive me if heroic gunslingers were not a part of my curriculum growing up.”

“Curry Clum? That the name of one of your teachers or somethin’?” Rarity had to take a look at Applejack’s face to determine that, yes, she was being perfectly serious. “My granny was the Mighty Celadon.”

Rarity forgot her hooves for a moment and almost fell on her face. She whipped around to gape at Applejack’s forlorn face. “Your grandmother was the founder and leader of the Rainbow Gang? Tell me you’re not serious.”

But she was. By that contrite face, filled with loss, Rarity had no doubt it was the truth. “She was my inspiration, y’know? The Flamin’ Vermillion, she blames Apples indiscriminately, but she knew me and my siblings. She tested me once, tryin’ to see if I’d go the way of the Gang.” She ran a hand over her chest, and Rarity realized she was touching her own necklace. The familiar motion almost made her do the same. “Then she told me, in as clear a way as anypony could, that I was safe as long as I stayed outta her way.” She shuddered and turned from the smoldering pile. “And I listened, Rares. That mare… I’m honestly not sure she’s even a pony anymore.”

They stood there for a time, the silence disturbed only by the soft crackle of the fire. Rarity breathed in the stench of burnt flesh and thought about Moonlight Raven in Hoofington. When the world came crashing down, she had Cranky to pull her back from the brink. Perhaps the Flaming Vermillion had no such help. And without somepony to be there for her…

She studied the burning pile once more, this time from a different perspective. Perhaps the Vermillion was being irrational, but Rarity could relate to her fury. To have lost her family to the Apple Gang so soon after most of her friends were killed in Ponyville?

Ponyville. “Will she go to Ponyville?”

Applejack hesitated. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know what gets in that pony’s head, other than ‘kill all Apples.’ A few years ago I’d have said ‘no way’. Too many bad memories, and even she’s not crazy enough to go up against that many ponies by herself. But…” Hands on hips and eyes downcast, she muttered, “If there’s a battle, she might want to get in on it.”

That made a sad kind of sense. She may have already passed them up in the night, given how recent this fight had to have been. “The Shrouding Midnight once told me that the Vermillion might decide to do something with me in mind. Now I wish I knew what she meant.” Hands behind her back, she cast her eyes about warily.

“You met Raven?” Applejack shivered. “That one always gave me the creeps. Too cold and broody. Used to think she was a vampire or somethin’.”

“As amusing as that is, I suggest we head back, if only to get away from this foul stench.” Rarity went to Ophelia, who was snorting and rubbing at her nose as if to rid herself of the smell.

“Point taken.” Climbing onto the nearby Moonshine, Applejack followed Rarity away from the site, her shoulders hunched and her eyes downcast. Rarity couldn’t blame her. The place had a certain ominous feel to it, as though the rage that had brought it into being lingered and wanted to infect them with its own foul mood. Rarity was angry, but she dearly hoped her anger never led to such wanton destruction.

Only when the scent of death finally abated did Rarity bother to ask the question that had been lingering in her mind. “So have you met all the Rainbow Gang?”

“Yeah, every one.” This admission did not come with a smile. “But I was real young, so I only vaguely remember them. I meet the last two on extra rare occasions. Raven encourages me to visit once in a blue moon. I think she worries about the family. Immediate, not whole.” She sighed and shook her head. “Not many ponies have that luxury.”

“So I gathered.” Her perverted companion was somehow chummy with some very important – and, in one case, frightening – ponies. Knowledge that the Flaming Vermillion may be near kept her on high alert, her head swiveling about at regular intervals to keep her surroundings in check. “Do you think the Flaming Vermillion would come looking for me?”

“Lookin’ for you?” Applejack straightened up and noted Rarity’s anxiety. “Now why would you think something like that?”

“Because Raven warned me she might.” Rarity felt tense, like a clock wound too tightly. And to think, she’d once considered allying herself with the Vermillion. Now that she suspected her of being a madmare, the idea had her thinking about grabbing Silver Lining. She resisted, but couldn’t bring herself to think she was safe. “The Vermillion hates the Apples. The Apple Gang wants me dead. And I do seem to draw their attention like moths to a flame wherever I go.”

Applejack cocked her head with an uncertain expression. “Isn’t that more likely to make her your ally than your enemy?”

“I’m not sure I want her as an ally anymore.”

“Fair enough.” With a smile probably meant to be comforting, Applejack pulled Moonshine alongside Ophelia and leaned closer. “Hey, don’t worry. You got me on your side.”

The clock wound a little tighter. Rarity’s response was a growl. “I’d almost take her over you, you philandering hussy.”

Her entire face going red beneath her hat, Applejack choked on potential retorts. With the way her face kept shifting, it was hard to tell whether she was more offended or shamed. After a few stuttering moments of indecision Rarity pretended not to notice, shame won out and Applejack retreated back to a safe distance.

She didn’t say another word all the way back to the caravan. Rarity was glad for it.





They returned to news that Coco had woken up while they were gone. Rarity wasted no time going to the wagon to greet her, pausing only to hug the ever-on-guard Cranky in her excitement. Coco appeared fragile, lying with her back raised on a collection of bedrolls so that she could more easily eat the stew Sweetie was patiently feeding her. Despite her limp posture and weary features, she still smiled happily at Rarity’s entrance.

“Coco, Darling.” Rarity settled opposite Sweetie and took her former assistant’s hand. It seemed smaller than she remembered. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore and hungry,” she replied, though her tone was nothing but pleasant. “A fair trade for being alive, right?”

Her candor sent bubbling happiness through Rarity, which expressed itself in a broad grin. “I suppose it is. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you awake.”

“As long as you don’t hug me,” Coco replied with a soft giggle. “I’ve had enough of that as it is.”

“S-sorry!” Sweetie’s face went red as she fidgeted and fussed with the bowl of stew. “I was just so happy. I thought you’d never wake up.”

“I’m sure Coco appreciated the intent.” Rarity patted her sister’s head, which didn’t earn her a scowl for once. “Sweetie’s been such a little trooper, watching after you all this time.”

“I know, Cranky told me.” Coco reached out to rub Sweetie’s arm affectionately. “And I do appreciate it. Just like I appreciate the stew,” she added meaningfully.

“Oh, right!” Sweetie offered her a spoonful, which Coco sucked down eagerly.

They talked for a bit, which mostly consisted of filling Coco and Sweetie in on what Rarity and Applejack had discovered. Minus the mention of the burning pile of corpses for Sweetie’s sake. Coco already knew about the siege of Ponyville, which was probably still ongoing, and her physical condition. She was trying to stay positive, always being sure to mention how things could have been much worse. After all, she was alive and would likely make a full recovery. Rarity admired her optimism. Admired and envied it.

It seemed terrible manners to crush Coco’s (attempts at?) good spirits, so Rarity decided not to go into her apologies just yet. It could wait until they’d separated from the main group. There was no need to burden the injured mare with Rarity’s sense of guilt and self-aimed frustrations. Her reluctance may have also been related to her fear of how Coco would respond, but only a little. Or so Rarity vehemently told herself.

Eventually the topic turned around to what was going to happen next. This, at least, Rarity was prepared for. “We’re going to split up from the rest. They’ll be going to Hoofington while we head further south.”

Sweetie, who had spent much of the time merely listening, looked as if she’d been punched in the gut. “You mean we’re not going home?”

Cringing at this reaction, Rarity placed a hand on her filly’s shoulder. “No. I’m sorry, Sweetie, but the Gang attacked the house. You all have to find a new home, one where the Gang won’t be able to target you.”

“B-but it’s home.” Sweetie’s expression turned to pleading, complete with the big, glassy eyes that had once melted through Rarity like butter. “All my things are there, and my friends! Can’t we go back, please?”

Unfortunately for her, Rarity had faced far more challenging obstacles than a pair of imploring eyeballs. She did keep her tone soothing though, in a bid to keep the peace in the small wagon. “We can’t. Mother and Papa have already left, and I fully expect the Bad Apples to be watching for us there. It’s too dangerous, Sweetie.”

Although anger flared in her eyes for the briefest of moments, Sweetie ultimately said nothing. Shoulders slumped, she took Coco’s empty bowl and said something about going to clean it under her breath. Pouting and dejected, she left the wagon. Rarity couldn’t stand to watch her go, instead staring blankly down at her knees.

After a few quiet seconds, Coco ventured a “Rarity?”

Rubbing her necklace, Rarity accepted the stabbing pain in her heart. “Do you think she’ll hate me for this?”

“Oh, of course she won’t.” The confidence in Coco’s declaration was so strong Rarity had to look at her just to make sure she wasn’t hearing things, but the mare only beamed at her and explained, “She’s more mature than you think. She knows you’re acting in her best interest. If she didn’t, she would have fought you on it.”

Rarity fidgeted and glanced out the back of the wagon. “You… You can tell that?”

“Yep.” Now it was Coco squeezing Rarity’s hand encouragingly. “She might be upset about it for a while, but by the time we reconnect with your parents she’ll have accepted it.”

The words were like a fresh knife in her already bleeding heart. Rarity clenched her eyes closed and her hands about Coco’s. “You know my little sister better than I do,” she whispered through the tightness of her throat. “I’ve been g-gone so long, she’s like a stranger to me now.”

“Oh. Oh, no. Please, don’t cry.” Panic set into Coco’s face as Rarity failed to regain control of herself. “Come on, Rarity, it’s not that bad.”

“Isn’t it?” Rarity asked, attempting to brush away tears that wouldn’t stop coming. “I left her behind, Coco. Seven years! Just to follow some flighty foal’s dream. I sh-should have been at home, being a proper big sister. Instead I abandoned her, and now I come back and tell her she doesn’t have a home anymore. What part of this isn’t b-bad?”

Coco tried to sit up, her face twisting in pain. This prompted Rarity to push her back down, but she was startled when her friend caught her and pulled her into a tight hug. “Coco, you shouldn’t—”

“Hush.” The admonishment was as soft as a feather, unlike Coco’s grip. “It’s alright. I promise, it’s going to be alright.”

Through her barely controlled tears, Rarity managed a frail bark of a laugh. “You’re hurt, but I’m the one needing comfort. I thought I was supposed to be the strong one between us.”

“You can’t be strong all the time,” Coco whispered from her shoulder. “I’ll be here whenever you need a shoulder to cry on.” As if in afterthought, she added with a smirk, “You should try not to be so high-strung all the time. Stress isn’t good for the complexion.”

This time Rarity’s giggle was genuine. She sat up, and this time Coco didn’t try to hold her down, although she kept her hands touching Rarity’s legs as if ready to snatch her again if needed. “I’m so very sorry about your circumstance. You should have been on your own lizard, rather than riding with Cranky in the middle of that fight.”

“I wanted to be with Cranky,” Coco argued, blushing lightly as she said it.

That sobered Rarity up. She observed her friend’s happy, wistful expression. “You two grew close while I was gone.”

Coco nodded, no doubt or anxiousness in her manner beyond the ongoing pink in her cheeks. “He promised you he’d take care of me, and he did. Escorted me all the way to your parents. Almost wouldn’t leave Mooisville.” Her smile softened as she glanced at the back of the wagon, perhaps to see if he was listening in. “He took that promise very seriously. He tries to appear gruff and tough all the time, but he’s about as soft as they come once you get to know him.”

“That sounds like Cranky, alright.” Rarity joined in the smile. “I owe him a lot just for giving me Silver Lining. Speaking of which…” She reached up to pull her necklace out from under her shirt. “I should thank you as well. You weren’t kidding about it bringing you good luck, were you?”

“Oh, you still have it.” Coco reached up to run her finger along the cloud-shaped engravings.

As Rarity followed her motions, she noted with some satisfaction that the gem had shifted to almost resemble a diamond. “This thing literally saved my life on three separate occasions, and it serves to keep me calm when I need to be. I really do believe it’s magical.”

“But what happened to the gem?” Coco traced the purple near-diamond, concern and confusion in her expression. “It didn’t always look like that.”

“I know.” Rarity lowered the necklace slightly, bending forward to offer a better view of the stone. “It’s been changing like that steadily ever since I got it. Did it not do something similar for you?”

Coco shook her head. “It was always a white orb when I had it. Why change now? And why to a diamond?”

This was news, indeed. Sitting up straight to better hold the necklace, Rarity studied it with renewed interest. “I don’t really know. It happened entirely on its own. But the diamond makes some sense, as it reflects my cutie mark.”

Coco’s eyebrows shot up. “Your cutie mark?”

Rarity hesitated. After all, one does not reveal or describe one’s cutie mark to just anypony. But Coco… she supposed Coco was a close enough friend to make it alright, and she wasn’t likely to take anything untoward from the revelation. The idea that Applejack probably knew what it looked like left a hollow feeling in her stomach, but she pushed that venomous thought aside for the moment. Speaking in a hushed tone, she confessed that “My cutie mark is three diamonds being threaded by a needle, like for a necklace.”

“I see.” True to Rarity’s expectations, Coco didn’t appear flustered by the revelation. There was, however, a subtle shift in her features, a pleasant awareness and pride. Yes, Darling, I consider you that close a friend. She rubbed the necklace for a little longer before lowering her hand. “So I guess it’s… bonding to you?”

“It seems like it,” Rarity admitted, though the idea hadn’t occurred to her before. “But why didn’t it do the same for you?”

Coco shrugged. “I never really wore it, just brought it with me to different places. Maybe it just needed prolonged contact.” Her eyes lit up. “So does it do anything else?”

“Umm…” Sitting up and poking at the necklace produced no effects, not that Rarity expected it to. “Not that I am aware of. As I said, it keeps me calm in intense situations and occasionally serves as a shield against attacks – pure luck for that, I’m sure – but otherwise it seems to be nothing more than a necklace.” She smiled warmly at Coco. “But a very special necklace, if that helps.”

Returning the grin, Coco said, “So I guess that’s what kept you from getting killed by Applejack. Does that mean you became the Bulletproof Heart because of me?”

“I suppose it does.” Rarity tittered at the very thought. “Thank you, Coco. Now I know who to blame for all of this.”

The joke, spoken on a whim, wasn’t met with laughter. Instead, Coco abruptly frowned, her ears folding back. She bowed her head as if in thought, fingers toying with her skirt anxiously. “Is everything okay, Rarity?”

With a blink, Rarity looked around for some indication of what her former assistant was talking about. “You’re alive, you and Sweetie are free from the Bad Apple Gang, and we’re on our way to meet my parents. I’d say that’s all good.”

“But what about you?” Coco’s worried gaze held Rarity in place with its intensity. “Getting shot doesn’t make me forget what happened. How angry you were in Ponyville. I’d never seen you like that before.”

“I…” She struggled to find some answer that didn’t make things sound horrible. “I was just upset because they had you, Darling.”

Coco sighed, her eyes not losing any of their concern. “You’re lying. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

It always came back to that, didn’t it? Something was always wrong, everypony seemed to notice, and she would have to go through all the whining and bitching about how much her life sucks, to use Sweetie’s vernacular. Well, maybe her life had gone south these past few months, but she was tired of being a prima donna about it. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine.”

“You’re scowling.”

A flinch made her tense up. She tried to fight her lips into at least a neutral expression, but suspected she wasn’t succeeding. “Coco, please. I do not feel like discussing this now. You’re alive. Sweetie’s safe. Soon enough I’ll have both of you where you cannot be touched. These are good things. Can I please focus on the good things?”

Coco bowed her head, face flushed as she pouted. It was such an expression of meekness that it added a fresh slice to Rarity’s heart, but she refused to take it back. For once she needed to hold on to the good things, and no good would come from letting her thoughts linger on Applejack or the Flaming Vermillion or how when Coco and Sweetie were safe she’d be back on the road again trying to survive. She’d find some joy in this existence even if she had to drag it kicking and screaming out of the depths of her soul!

“S-so,” Coco asked demurely, “where are we going from here?”

Glad for a question she could answer safely, Rarity allowed herself a moment to cool down before forcing a smile back onto her face. “Rockstead. It’s still a bit of a trek, seeing as we’ll be going around the western edge of the Plains, but I have a friend there who can keep you safe. Odds are good my parents will have been there for a few weeks by the time we arrive.”

“O-okay. That sounds good,” Coco meekly replied.

This wasn’t working. She had the poor mare cowed, and for no good reason. Rarity massaged her forehead with both hands as a light headache began to form. “Forgive me, Coco. I don’t mean to be short. I just… I just need a break from all this.”

As if the words were a trigger, Coco lost all her docility and smiled warmly at her. “It’s alright. I can’t imagine the stress you’ve been under lately.”

No, she probably couldn’t. “And I would rather you not find out,” Rarity admitted grimly. “So please excuse me if I’m not in a rush to explain things. I’ve already done that a lot as it is.”

“I understand. But…” Twiddling her fingers, Coco regained her meekness. “If you ever change your mind, I’ll listen. It’s the least I can do.”

Placing a hand on Coco’s shoulder, Rarity smiled, and this time it was genuine. “I appreciate that, but you have been through enough. I wouldn’t dream of burdening you with my troubles.”

Sighing, Coco let her hands drop and nodded. “Okay. For now, I guess. Um, I think you need to get some sleep. No offense, but you look worn out.”

Rarity laughed and nodded eagerly. “I have been up a lot longer than is strictly necessary, I suppose. Very well, nurse, I shall retire for the day. Any other instructions for me?”

Grinning bashfully, Coco shook her head, then let out a long yawn. “I should probably sleep some more myself. You wouldn’t think I’d be sleepy considering how long I was out, but here we are.”

“Sleep well, Darling,” Rarity whispered, giving her friend a gentle hug. “It’s good to have you back.”





Rarity had chosen a place apart from the others. She wasn’t sure why, but sleeping amongst a group made her uncomfortable these days. Perhaps she was simply accustomed to being on her own. At the very least, this gave her the space she needed to set up her magical trap to protect against Applejack should she decide to try something. She settled on a rocky perch a little southeast of the others, where she could see the entire caravan but had enough room for Ophelia. The lizard seemed to enjoy sleeping next to her, and Rarity wasn’t inclined to prevent this.

It came as no small surprise when the sleeping roll whipped out from under Rarity, effectively waking her up by sending her sprawling sideways. Her first thought was that her trap spell had actually worked. Her second thought?

Her trap actually worked. The implication hit her before she was even fully awake, and she rolled onto her back with Silver Lining and Ruby Heart in her hands. Rather than Applejack tangled in a wildly flung sleeping roll, Rarity found the thing lying innocuously a dozen feet downhill, victim-free. Nopony below appeared to have noticed the sudden flurry of activity.

Had she done something wrong while setting the trap? Perhaps Ophelia had unintentionally set it off with her tail. Groaning at her interrupted sleep – she had been out like a rock, too – she holstered her guns and glanced at the sky. It appeared to be early in the afternoon. There was still time to get some more shuteye before—

An unsubtle grunt caught her attention like the crack of a whip. She whirled to her left, Silver Lining out once more. She found herself aiming at a tall pony clad in a black coat, her face obscured by a low-angled cowboy hat. She sat atop the tall rock that had been providing Rarity some shade, though it didn’t anymore; that honor went to Ophelia. The mare was only five feet away, well within range of Rarity’s magical trap.

A moment of quiet followed as Rarity took in the stranger. She sensed no immediate threat. Indeed, the pony seemed perfectly relaxed, settled with one boot on her rock and an elbow resting lazily on her knee. Though she was mostly covered in her thick and undoubtedly hot fashion choice – seriously, the mare had to be boiling up! – Rarity could see by her hands that her coat was a brilliant gold, and a wild, fiery orange mane could not be contained by any mere hat. From the direct angle, Rarity could barely make out the mare’s substantially sized wings.

Despite the pony’s laid-back manner, there was also something… off about her presence. It was the wings. They weren’t loose like the rest of her. They were folded, but poised. At the ready. Prepared to take her to the air at a moment’s notice. And it wasn’t just that, but an icy awareness in Rarity’s gut that had the little pony in her head trembling. She knew who this pony was and what she was capable of, and she knew she should be afraid. She imagined only her necklace prevented that.

Warily, Rarity lowered her weapon. “Did you set off my trap?”

The mare raised her head, revealing a smirk on a weathered face and orange eyes. She looked old enough to be Rarity’s mother. “Yeah, that was me.”

Still sensing no overt threat, Rarity chanced a look at the caravan below. Most of the ponies were asleep, but a few were going about their business. It seemed the two of them had privacy for the moment, which was most certainly what the stranger wanted. “Well, it was a bit of a rude awakening, but you have my attention.”

“Good.” The mare leaned forward to peer at her. “You are the Bulletproof Heart, yes?”

Taking this as a warning, Rarity raised her gun once more. “Yes. And you are?”

“You know damn well who I am,” she replied gruffly.

Indeed, Rarity suspected she did. “I would hear you confirm it.”

They studied one another, Rarity on high alert and her guest possessing a critical eye. That expression lasted for only a few seconds before the stranger grinned. “You’ve got a fire in you, just like they say. You might be gunslinger material after all. They call me the Flaming Vermillion, but you can call me Stormy. Stormy Flare.”

“Of course.” Glad – so to speak – to have her suspicions confirmed, Rarity allowed her arm to lower once more. “Yes, I am the Bulletproof Heart, but I greatly prefer Rarity Belle.”

“Belle?” Stormy removed her hat, set it on her knee, and ran a hand through her wild, two-toned mane. “That’s an aristocrat name.”

“Supposedly we had some nobles in our ancestry.” Rarity didn’t like how Stormy was beating around the bush, and sought to steer the conversation in the right direction. “Was it you that killed those ponies ahead of us?”

“Yes.” Stormy answered without bravado or hesitation, as if she were discussing the weather. “And that caravan everypony accused you of. Sorry about that.”

Rarity gave a derisive snort. “Sorry about what? Murdering a bunch of innocent ponies?”

Stormy’s ears perked and her whole body went tense. “There’s no such thing as an innocent Apple. You’ll do well to learn that.”

The little pony in the back of Rarity’s mind flinched, but Rarity herself refused to be cowed even by this legendary gunfighter. “Does that include Applejack and her siblings?”

Stormy’s eyes narrowed. For a moment that had Rarity half-reaching for Ruby Heart, she suspected Stormy would lash out. But then she relaxed once more, taking a heavy breath as she did so. “No, those three are good kids. But that won’t stop me from killing every last one of their kin.”

So much for settling such matters. Rarity scowled and cast another glance at the caravan. Still unnoticed, it seemed. She turned her gaze back to Stormy Flare, finally realizing just how bad the circumstances were. If this madmare did decide to get violent, would she stand a chance? Even Applejack was wary of her, and Applejack had beat Rarity easily… even if the audience hadn’t seen it that way.

Rarity knew precious little about the Flaming Vermillion. She was filled with rage and hatred and seemed to respect an aggressive front, not at all like Raven. In that case, the worst thing Rarity could do was display any form of weakness. If she was going to get through this without a bullet in her skull, she would have to behave accordingly.

This in mind, she kept an edge to her voice as she asked, “What do you want from me?”

“Not much for small talk, are you?” Though Stormy’s tone was friendly, her eyes most certainly weren’t. She reached up to touch an orange tassel hanging from her ear. An earring? It held Rarity's attention, for it didn’t match the mare’s dark and gloomy attire in the least. “How’s Moonlight Raven?”

Returning her attention to this potential opponent and possible ally, Rarity wondered what was expected of her. “Still hiding in Hoofington. And concerned about you.”

Stormy gave a derisive snort. “Raven’s always cared too much. Used to take an act of Discord to get her to show it. She’s gone soft. But you.” She leaned forward, staring intently at Rarity with a wry grin. “You’ve got the grit. I heard what you did outside Hoofington, stalking all those ponies. A more classic case of ‘hunter becoming hunted’ I’ll never know.”

This wasn’t going anywhere Rarity wanted it to. Stormy seemed to think her slaughter of those bounty hunters was a good thing. If that was the case… No, maybe not. She shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But she still needed to formulate an answer that would neither offend or encourage the brute of a pegasus.

“Is that why you’ve come?” she asked at last, free hand on her hip and her muzzle turned up high. “To compare body counts?”

“I know what you can do,” Stormy pressed, her manner eager. “And I know why you do it. I’m here to see if you’re ready to do what it takes to get the Apples off your back.”

Oh, no. She really was going there. Realizing she needed all the presence she could muster, Rarity ignored the frantic head-shaking of the little pony and climbed to her hooves, meeting the Flaming Vermillion’s grin with a glare. She could let the terror of facing up to a living legend hit her later, right now she needed to show no weakness. “If you want to kill more ponies that badly, go to Ponyville. The Gang’s laying siege to the army camp as we speak.”

That wiped the grin off Stormy’s face, replacing it with an awed expression. “Really? Why?”

Rarity pointed with a thumb at the caravan, which she also casually glanced at. Still no help coming. How was nopony noticing this? Of all the times to stop paying attention to her, they had to choose now! “It might have something to do with the couple dozen hostages I rescued with the army’s help.”

Stormy looked to the caravan, face still stuck in that disbelieving gape. When she turned back to Rarity, however, her grin was back and as wicked as ever. “You really do have balls, don’t you? Damn near perfect.”

“Perfect? By who’s measure?” Rarity shook her head. “I’m trying to keep away from the Gang, Miss Flare. I fight them when I have to, but they are the ones that start it.”

“Bullshit.” With all the grace of a vulture, the Flaming Vermillion shifted into a crouch atop her rock, wings open wide, and pointed a gloved finger at her. “You’re the one who turned around and went back to kill those bounty hunters outside Hoofington.”

Rarity’s heart twisted. “Th-that… I was not in my right mind.”

“I think that was the one time you were in your right mind,” Stormy insisted, eyes alight with a fiery passion. Whether it was joy or hatred, Rarity couldn’t tell. The inability to distinguish between the two sent shivers down her spine. “You’ve got all the skills and instincts to be a top tier drifter. The more you stay out here, the better you get. That’s a rare talent, Bulletproof, and one I could use.”

It hurt to think that she was right, that Rarity really was born to do this kind of work. The thought left a cold feeling in her chest even as a flame of anger made itself known. “You want me to join you, is that it? Travel around murdering ponies for our own pleasure?”

Stormy’s expression went blank, her tone quiet. “Murder?”

“Yes, murder. Well, I am not inclined—”

She nearly brought Silver Lining up again when Stormy dropped from the rock to land heavily before her. Only now did it dawn on Rarity just how much taller Stormy was compared to her. Taking a threatening step closer, the infamous gunfighter known as the Flaming Vermillion snarled in Rarity’s face. “Do not speak to me of murder. You’ve seen what those freaks can do. You’ve lived it! They’re a plague that needs exterminating. Before they attempt to rape another Rarity Belle. Before they sell more ponies to griffon slavers. Before they murder anymore little fillies!”

She caught Rarity by her vest and lifted her off her hooves so that they were muzzle to muzzle, the fire in her eyes blazing so hot Rarity forgot she was armed and began to tremble. Even so, she managed to fire back with no less force, “So what? Do you think you’ll feel better when they’re all dead?”

The response was a low, vicious hiss. “Yes. Every one of those bastards that eats dirt is a grain of sand on my little filly’s tomb. I’m giving you a chance to help me bury her with their blood. A chance to put an end to their wretched existence before they manage to do it to your family. Isn’t that the whole reason you’re out here? To protect them?”

At the mention of her family, Rarity rediscovered her courage. Gripping Stormy’s wrist with her free hand and pressing Silver Lining against the mare’s stomach, she replied with as much conviction as she could squeeze into her voice. “Maybe I am, but I am not out here to wage a one-mare war against both sides of the Apple Family. Or a two-mare one. I will defend myself, nothing more. Now put me down.”

Those orange eyes narrowed. For several long seconds, they merely held one another’s scowls. Indeed, this lasted so long Rarity started to wonder if she wouldn’t have to open fire. But finally, slowly, Stormy lowered her to her hooves.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Bulletproof,” she growled, releasing Rarity and stepping back. “But you’re one brave bitch, I’ll give you that much.”

Adjusting her shirt and vest to more comfortable positions, Rarity curtly replied, “You’ll forgive me if I’m not inclined to thank you for that vulgar praise.”

“But you’re wrong.” Once again, Stormy reached up to touch the tassel on her ear. “You’re already at war. You were when you killed back in Spurhoof, and you’ve escalated it by rescuing those hostages. They won’t stop now. Self defense won’t cut it anymore.”

Despite an annoying little pony in the back of her head fretting that it was true, Rarity holstered her gun and crossed her arms in what she hoped would be seen as a display of confidence. “We shall see about that. Regardless, I have no intention of travelling with you right now.”

The Flaming Vermillion’s smile appeared more threatening than her snarling face ever did. “Indeed, we’ll see. When your family is dead and everything has been stolen from you, you’ll reconsider. And I’ll be there when it happens. That’s a promise.”

Rarity groaned. “You’re going to be following me around now? I’ve already got one highly unwelcome stalker to deal with, I’d rather not have another.”

“Oh, don’t worry, ‘darling’, I’ll give you space.” Chuckling, the Flaming Vermillion turned from her and started to walk away. Not in the direction of the caravan. “As long as the Apples are chasing you, it’s in my interest to keep watch. But I have other things to do with my time… like investigate this siege you mentioned.” Grabbing her discarded hat from the ground, she looked over her shoulder with a one-eyed stare that spoke of ominous promise. “You’ll see me again, Bulletproof. Think on my offer until then.” Then she was gone, leaving Rarity alone and glaring at the rock behind which she’d disappeared.

Rarity waited, shifting and scowling. The desire to check and ensure the mare wasn’t still there was crushed under a willful determination to not make the Vermillion suspect she was having second thoughts. To think that the respectable Moonlight Raven had once been friends with that pony! Rarity could admit she had a lot of anger in her, for herself and the Gang, but she prayed she would never become what the Flaming Vermillion clearly had.

“Rarity?”

She whipped around, hand on Silver Lining. The sight of Applejack standing a dozen feet away did nothing to ease her nerves. “What are you doing up here?” And why weren’t you here when I needed you?

Applejack looked to the tall rock, concern in her gaze. “That was the Flamin’ Vermillion, wasn’t it?”

“How good of you to notice,” she practically spat, finally easing her hand away from her gun. “A shame you couldn’t have been here five minutes ago when I thought she intended to kill me.”

Not rising to the venom, expression unchanged, Applejack asked, “What did she want?”

“For me to join her in peeling and coring every Apple from here to the Atlantian Coast.” She used her magic to snatch up her discarded bedroll. Sleep probably wouldn’t be coming anytime soon, but she could at least try while the sun was still out. “I told her I had no interest, even if she didn’t exclude present company from the culling.”

It seemed Applejack was made of steel today, for she didn’t even flinch at the verbal barb sent her way. She moved a little closer, only pausing when Rarity shot her a threatening glance that was by no means a bluff. “You keep your distance,” Rarity warned. “I won’t have you within a hundred feet of me while I’m sleeping.”

Applejack raised her hands placatingly and didn’t come any closer. “Relax, Rares, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” Rarity growled. “I’m not your ‘Rares’. I’m barely willing to tolerate you addressing me on a first name basis, so you can forget your silly redneck nicknames.”

Closing her eyes, Applejack took a deep breath. Upon opening them, she nodded. “I apologize. I meant no disrespect. Now, are you alright? The Vermillion didn’t cause any trouble?”

Carefully resetting the bedroll beside a quietly watching Ophelia – had she been observing the entire conversation in silence? The creature could be curiously quiet when she wanted to be. – Rarity said, “Aside from frustrating me and making me fret that she might be watching my every move? No. Right now I’m warier of you than I am of her.”

“Okay.” Applejack nodded slowly. She stood in silence for a moment as she watched Rarity fuss over the bedroll in what was a probably blatant attempt at not giving her any attention. “I’m going with you when you split up with the caravan.”

Rarity whirled around to snarl at her. “Absolutely not!”

With a grim frown, Applejack stood tall and met Rarity eye for eye. “I’m afraid it ain’t up to you this time. I already got Cranky to agree.”

“You did what?” Rarity’s anger disappeared as she gaped at her least favorite pony. Then it came right back, the simple fire becoming a raging inferno. Her fists shook at her sides as she growled a threatening, “How?”

Her freckles disappearing amidst her sudden pallor, Applejack visibly swallowed before replying, “I challenged him to a contest of skill and won. Winner got to go with ya.”

How Rarity kept from shouting, she wasn’t sure. “And he agreed to this?” At the slow nod, she stomped closer and glared into Applejack’s stony face. The mare looked as though she were facing an army of bandits rather than just one upset pony. Of course, calling Rarity ‘upset’ was an understatement defying comprehension. “We’ll just see about that.” She shoved past, marching for the caravan.

Applejack caught her wrist. “Rarity, I—”

Ruby Heart was pressed against her throat so quickly even Rarity wasn’t sure how it got there. “Get your fucking hand off me.”

She did. Very slowly.

“If you ever touch me without my permission again, I won’t hesitate.” Shoving her gun back inside her vest, Rarity stalked for the ponies once more. She blatantly ignored the little pony in the back of her head applauding her ability to hold back.

She found Cranky lying asleep against one of the wagon’s wheels and wasted no time slapping him awake, the sound of the impact echoing across the camp and startling many of the closest ponies out of their own slumber. Cranky jolted sideways, landing hard on his shoulder. With one hand pressed to the bright red palm print on his cheek, he looked up at Rarity as if she had steam billowing from her mouth and ears. She might as well have, all things considered. “What the hay was that for?”

Dropping to one knee, she grabbed him by the shirt and jerked him closer so she could properly channel her emotions into his skull via the eyes. “Don’t you ‘what the hay’ me, mister! What in the Sister’s name gives you the right to make my decisions for me?”

Clearly too shocked by the sudden awakening to grasp her meaning, Cranky stared at her and rubbed his cheek a bit more. “I ain’t done nothing of the sort.”

She shook him so hard his head flopped back and forth, his long ears slapping the wagon loudly. “You placed a bet with Applejack and decided what to do without even consulting me!”

He caught her wrists, but it took him a moment to slow her down. She finally let go of her own volition, but only because she knew he couldn’t explain himself if she was rattling his teeth. After shaking his head to clear it, he stood up to face her properly. “Why should we have consulted you? It was between us.”

“Because I’m the one who has to live with the consequences! What were you thinking?”

With a long sigh, he reached into his coat and pulled out a pack of extract sticks. Rarity fumed at him for daring to make her wait on his unhealthy, self-destructive habits, but she bit her tongue lest she end up hurting him again. Not that she didn’t want to, but it would make it take even longer for her to get an answer.

The extract stick lit and the box put away, Cranky took his time on that first puff, blowing blue smoke directly into her face. She refrained from breathing, knowing full well he wanted her to hack on it as a showing of weakness or something. “I was thinking I wanted Coco and Sweetie to have the best protection possible.”

“Oh, you would word it so neatly, wouldn’t you?” Rarity balled her hands into fists to keep from slapping him again, only to realize he was now at risk of being punched. “In what way is she better than you in that regard?”

He reached up to rub the still-present print on his cheek. “How ‘bout she’s five times faster on the draw than me?”

“That’s—”

“Has way better aim.”

“What does—”

“And feels so deeply guilty that she’ll do absolutely anything to make it up to you?”

“As if she could!”

His glare softened to his usual scowl. No, not his usual. There was something else in his hard eyes. Rarity realized it was disappointment. “And you’re just coming up with petty excuses because you don’t like her.”

She snorted, then crossed her arms with a huff. “When you wake up in bed next to a stranger with no idea how you got there, let’s see you not be upset.”

A beat.

Cranky started to smirk.

“Oh, come on!” Throwing up her hands, Rarity began to pace a small circle. “I’m surrounded by perverts. I don’t want to like her. I don’t want to give her a chance. I know it’s the right thing to do but in the names of the Sun and the Moon, what she did hurts. It hurts like you can’t imagine! And watching you conspire to get me to like her isn’t making it any better. And yes, Coco and Sweetie should have the absolute best protection, but what makes their safety more important than the safety of all the others? Are we picking favorites now? Because if I was any one of them, I’d be offended that there are ponies whose lives are deemed more important than my own! And yes, I’ll admit it, I’m coming up with these arguments based on the singular issue that I do not want that wretched, groping, tail chasing hooligan anywhere near where I lay my head down at night! O-or day, as the case may be.”

She stopped in front of him, panting and sweating and letting her furious energy finally fade. She stared at Cranky, feeling like she had so much more to say but not knowing exactly how. For a moment things were left at that, with him scowling and her panting. Then, casually, he offered her his water bag.

She took it with a muttered “thanks” and took a long gulp, the cool liquid refreshing her immensely.

Accepting it back, he capped it, returned it to his belt, and took another puff of his extract stick. Away from her, this time. “You really think Applejack’s all those things?”

Speaking through clenched teeth, she fired back, “I speak from personal experience.”

He nodded with a quiet hum, appearing thoughtful. “So, let me get this straight. You think it’s more worth having a sexual predator around if said predator will keep ponies safe?”

She blinked, the remains of her fire sputtering out. “W-what? How did you get to that conclusion?”

A noncommittal shrug. “You’re convinced she’s going to do something bad to you if you’re alone for even a moment together. So instead, you’ll have her be alone with all these ponies.” He gestured around them with his extract stick. Rarity followed the gesture with her eyes and felt a cold chill when so many heads turned away from her gaze. Oh, my stars, I just blew up in front of all of them, didn’t I?

Cranky didn’t stop there. “She’s the best gunslinger we’ve got, period. But because you think she’s a sexual predator, you refuse to let her come with you. So, logically, it must be okay for her to abuse a few of these innocent ponies if it means she’ll keep them safe.”

Her jaw dropped. “I… That’s not what I meant at all!”

Another shrug. “Hey, it’s not your problem. She’s out of your hair, so what do you care if she toys with a few fillies?”

“I-I never said she was a foal fiddler!”

“No, just a wretched, groping, tail chasing hooligan. No risk she’ll go that far too though, right?”

Hands clenched into fists once more, she finally managed to recover her glare. “I see what you’re trying to do, and I don’t appreciate it.”

Another puff of his stick. This time he blew the smoke right in her face. “Just calling it as I see it, Miss Belle.”

Her anger flared up again, but it was only a brief spark that lost its fuel within seconds. Slumping where she stood, she let out a quiet groan. “I’m sorry, Cranky. Maybe I do exaggerate her faults a bit, but…” I’m scared of her. “I just don’t want her near me. She’s a constant reminder of what she took.”

He didn’t appear at all moved by her newfound meekness. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“Of course.”

“Beyond steady insults and warnings to keep away?”

She opened her mouth, but upon seeing his hard expression once more closed it. They’d had… a small talk? Mostly Applejack claiming she felt guilty. Rarity even believed her in that regard. But what had she said in return beyond ‘keep away from me’? It dawned upon her that, just as she didn’t want to see or be around Applejack, she didn’t want to discuss the matter with her. That might lead to forgiveness, and she wasn’t prepared to do that yet, generosity be damned. But…

“I suppose I could try,” she admitted wearily, pressing a hand to her forehead. “There’ll be plenty of opportunities in the coming weeks, won’t there?”

Cranky raised an eyebrow at that. “So you’re not gonna argue anymore?”

“What’s the point?” She asked dejectedly, lowering her hand to try and meet his gaze. Her eyes made it about to his stubbled chin before they became too heavy to continue. “Even if I don’t want her to go, you two have decided without me. I wager she’d just follow at a distance if I got insistent.”

“Probably. The filly’s a stubborn one.” With one last puff, he tossed his spent stick aside. “Now, you got anymore whining to do, or can I go back to sleep?”

“I’m not whining,” she countered, recovering just a hint of her prior haughtiness. It sounded good to her ears, so she pressed on. “I am complaining. Trust me, Mr. Doodle, you do not want to hear whining.”

The tiniest of smiles graced his lips, lopsided and amused. “I’ll take your word for it.”

They shared the expression for a moment or two, but Rarity realized there was nothing left to say. So, with a sigh, she trudged back to her spot on the hill overlooking the caravan. None of the ponies looked at her directly, but she could feel their eyes on her back. With every step, she shrank in on herself a little more. What must they think of her after that little public display?

Applejack was waiting for her at the bottom of the hill. With ears folded back and shoulders hunched, she made for a pitiful figure. Rarity didn’t bother to look at her, instead opting to walk past without a word.

“Rarity, I’m—”

She stopped with a stomp but didn't turn back. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

A hot wind blew across the barren, rocky landscape. Rarity’s hand had come to grip Silver Lining on instinct, her thumb pressed so hard into the little nub it stung. Back straight, lips pursed, she waited to see just how the lecher would respond.

After a few tense seconds, she caught the sound of boots shuffling away. Relaxing her grip on her gun, Rarity heaved one last sigh and resumed walking, hooves dragging in the dirt. Maybe some more sleep would calm her down.

She didn’t get her hopes up.
> Episode 24: Southward Bound Redux
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


18th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


Straddling Ophelia, Rarity let out a long yawn in the evening light. Her sleep had been troubled as of late, not because of nightmares but due to an inability to relax. But she shrugged it off, having gone through such things before. Instead, she kept her attention on the others. Tonight was the deadline, and they were setting up to turn east for Hoofington. Octavia, astride her own light purple lizard, appeared perfectly in control of her situation. She would make a good leader, for what little time she’d accepted the role. They’d already said their goodbyes, with Octavia reminding Rarity that her offer for Sweetie remained on the table.

While everyone was settling in for the next phase of their journey, Peachy Pitt rode up to Rarity. “Hey, Miss Belle.”

Rarity smiled for the green unicorn, managing not to wince at the cracks in her horn this time. “Peachy. How’s that memory of yours holding up?”

Peachy grinned and tapped the side of her head. “Holding up just fine. I remember every word of our little ‘interview’ last night, thanks.” Growing more somber, she leaned forward to quietly ask, “Is it alright if I ask you one more question, though?”

The query came as no surprise, save that it hadn’t happened earlier. “Certainly. I’m not sure how you managed to choose just one. I imagine there are a lot going through that inquisitive head of yours.”

“It was easy.” Unlike much of the interview the night before – unlike how she was nearly all the time, really – Peachy appeared deathly serious. “A lot of ponies are noticing that you’re…” She worked her lips, eyes narrowing as she considered her word choice. “Tense. I mean no offense when I say this, but you don’t seem happy.”

The smile drifted from Rarity as she stared at the mare. She felt the smokey tendrils of that now-familiar fire inside, but kept it down with practiced ease. “I’m not hearing a question.”

Peachy hesitated, unable to meet her gaze. “Do you regret the decision to come out here?”

Ah. That was a good question. An entirely appropriate one, though Rarity understood Peachy’s hesitancy about it. Her thoughts drifted to all the fights she’d been in, the ponies she’d killed, the anger and frustration. Flintlock, Orchard, and TomTom. The rage that lingered just beneath the surface even now, ready to unleash itself with the right provocation.  It would be so easy to acknowledge it and all the pain she’d been feeling in the last year.

Easy, but not accurate. Rarity turned her eyes to the ponies now preparing to leave for Hoofington. Ponies who less than a week earlier had been prisoners with little hope for the future. That alone was enough to sway her opinion, but then she had to consider Spike, Fluttershy, and Starlight. The Pies, Miss Hooves, and Shining Armor. Others she’d met along the way.

Her answer was an easy one to reach. “To be clear, I hate what my life has become.” She made that declaration with bitter firmness, her gaze returning to Peachy. “But I don’t regret my decisions. I’ve helped, and that is the most important thing.”

Peachy met her eyes at last, and gave a small smile. “That’s good to know. If you’re ever in Seaddle sometime, look me up, huh? You’ll always be welcome in my home.”

As Peachy went back to join the others, Rarity looked to the nearby wagon in time to see Cranky climb out the back. He appeared grim and defeated, with shoulders slumped and eyes downcast. Donning his hat, he climbed onto Cerulean and approached. “Miss Belle.”

“I’m sorry to say it, Deputy, but you look a mess.” Leaning towards him, Rarity asked, “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

“Applejack beat me, fair and square. She can protect Coco and Sweetie better than I can.” He sighed and glanced back at the wagon. “I don’t have to like it to know it’s the right thing to do.”

“I find that dubious at best,” Rarity muttered, then raised her voice to proper speaking levels. “You once promised to protect Coco with your life. I suppose it’s my turn to do the same.”

“You don’t even have to,” he replied with a wan smile. “I know you’ll do everything in your power to keep them safe. Just wish the kid hadn’t grown on me like she did.”

Rarity was taken aback. “You mean that?”

“No,” he groused. “But let me keep at least the illusion of a reputation, alright?”

She chuckled and nodded. “If that’s the way you want it, old fart.” Her laughter died at his puzzled expression. “What?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “It’s just that you never would have used such language a year ago. It reminds me of just how much you’ve changed since Spurhoof.”

Applejack chose that moment to ride up on Moonshine. “Looks like Octavia’s ready to ride. Time to say our goodbyes.”

Having tensed up with Applejack’s presence, Rarity nodded. “Right. And what will you do after this, Cranky?” She ignored the pained look Applejack attained after having been so readily dismissed.

“Gonna visit Midnight,” he said without hesitation. “That’s overdue. Then probably head back to Spurhoof.”

Rarity’s ears perked. “Really?”

“Really.” He gave her an appraising look, eyes drifting to Silver Lining for a moment. “I was going to meet up with you again, but it’s become increasingly clear you don’t need my help to get by. And since you don’t like having others involved with your problems, I figured it’s time to give you your space.”

She could only stare, his words rendering her temporarily speechless. That he of all people would say such a thing… “Cranky… I…”

“That being said, if you need help you can contact me any time. I’ll answer the call, Miss Belle.” He tipped his hat to her, then to Applejack. “Good luck out there, ladies. And don’t die on me, or I’ll be talking to your mothers about it.”

Rarity didn’t know what stunned her more, that he was offering his services at any time she might need them or that he’d actually made a joke about the situation. She watched him go, torn between a sense of potentially misplaced pride in his trust and the desire to keep journeying with him. Her momentary and confusing high was only ended when she noticed how pale Applejack had gotten. “What’s the matter with you?”

Flinching, Applejack glanced away with a cough. “Nothin’. It’s just… My mother may be the last pony I’d ever want him to meet.”

That, Rarity decided, was not a topic she wanted to get into right now. Instead, she turned her attention to the approaching sound of flapping wings. She was greeted by Roan Quill, the griffon child, who landed a few feet away and promptly set her hands behind her back and looked to the ground. “Um, th-thank you for letting me come along, Miss Belle.”

“Think nothing of it, Darling.” Rarity smiled as sweetly as she could for the young griffon. “I want you to get home just as much as you do. I’m happy to have you along if it achieves that goal more quickly.”

Smiling behind her beak, Roan nodded enthusiastically. “I can make my way back once we get to Rockstead. The wagon’s ready to go when you are.”

“No time like the present.” Rarity turned her head to her… ‘companion’. “Applejack?”

Still looking a little sour, Applejack nodded. “Ready and waitin’.”

“Then let’s waste no more time.”

They began their ride south, leaving the former hostages behind at last. Roan flew to the wagon, taking the driver’s seat. After calling a warning to Sweetie and Coco inside, she flicked the reins of the massive brown Thick Scale named Dune. They soon lost sight of the others amongst the desolate hills. Despite her apprehension, Rarity couldn’t help feeling a little relieved.

Maybe now she could get a break.





“Rarity?”

She looked up from the bedroll she’d been preparing in the shade of the wagon. “Yes, Sweetie?”

Climbing from the back of the wagon, Sweetie knelt by the wheel to look at the roll. “Won’t you sleep inside?”

Rarity blinked at the query. This was the first time her sister had asked such a thing. “But somepony needs to stay outside to keep watch for danger.”

“Applejack can do that. She already volunteered, didn’t she?”

“And if she shouts a warning, I want to be ready at a moment’s notice.” Rarity waved a dismissive hand at the wagon. “I can’t do that in there.” She should know, she’d had experience. Even after three seasons, she could still vividly recall the sound of Saltwater’s neck snapping. A fresh shudder ran through her at the memory.

“But…” Sweetie’s face scrunched up. She looked as though she wanted to argue, but was either holding back or couldn’t find the right words. After a few seconds of this, she asked, “Then can I stay out here with you?”

That one hit her like a slap in the face, a bitter reminder that despite having her little sister so close, she’d not really had much chance to spend time with her. Allowing herself a moment to consider, she realized that there was no reason to deny Sweetie’s request. In fact, the idea of spending the day close to her sent warm fuzzies drifting about Rarity’s chest. She smiled and said, “It won’t be as comfortable.”

“That’s okay.” Sweetie smiled back. “I’ll take it if it means spending more time with you.”

Oh, that was a nice feeling! Rarity nodded and sat on her bedroll. “Alright, then. Just make sure Coco has everything she needs for the day first.”

“Got it!” Sweetie all but bounced away, giggling as she did.

As soon as she’d gone, Rarity turned her attention to the one negative of the moment. Applejack was settled next to a small fire where she was cooking a stew. Winona sat at her side, liking her lips and staring at the pot hungrily. The thought of the Apple being the only one awake amongst their group turned the little warm fuzzies to icicles that crashed unpleasantly in the bottom of Rarity’s rib cage. “I trust you’ll wake me when it’s my turn to go on watch?”

Not turning to look at her, Applejack replied, “Only if I can trust you not to shoot me for doin’ so.”

“I won’t shoot you, Applejack,” she groused, not bothering to mention how she might want to on occasion. “Provided your hands stay where they belong.” Applejack merely grunted in reply.

As much as Rarity wanted to lie down, she instead kept upright. It wouldn’t do to fall asleep before Sweetie got back, and with how tired she felt that was a distinct possibility. She let out a long yawn and wondered if she’d do any better today. Sleep was proving to be a much-desired commodity lately.

Sweetie came skipping back a few minutes later, levitating her own sleeping roll along behind her. “Coco’s all set up! I promised to check on her around noon or so. Could you wake me up for that, Miss Applejack?”

Turning to offer a smile, Applejack replied, “Y’all don’t have to worry about that, Sugarcube. I can check on Coco for ya.”

Sweetie shook her head vehemently. “Nope. Taking care of Coco’s my job now, so wake me up.”

Rarity set a hand on Sweetie’s shoulder, immediately catching her attention. “Do keep it down, Sweetie? Don’t forget Roan’s trying to sleep.” They glanced in unison at the young griffon hen, who lay curled in a tiny ball of fur and feathers next to Dune. She made soft little purring sounds with every breath, a pleasant smile behind her beak. It seemed griffons did really well in the sun, for she had no apparent need for shade.

“Right. Sorry.” Sweetie nodded and went back to setting up her sleeping roll such that it was in contact with Rarity’s. “But seriously, Miss Applejack. I want you to wake me up. I promised Coco, after all.”

“If y’all insist, I’ll wake you up.” Applejack turned back to the stew pot, adding pleasantly, “Just don’t go whining when I do, deal?”

“Deal.” Giggling, Sweetie lay down on her roll, snuggling up to Rarity once she’d reclined on her back as well.

Things were quiet for a while. Rarity tried closing her eyes, but every few seconds had to open them to ensure Applejack was keeping her distance. Every time she did, she found the mare right were she’d been before. Perhaps she was just being paranoid. Scratch that, she knew paranoia guided her actions. If only she could cast it aside and get some sleep. She rolled towards Sweetie Belle, her back to the earth pony, in hopes of getting over the issue. If anything, that made her even more anxious.

“Sis?”

On any other day, Rarity might have been annoyed. Today, she was just happy for the distraction. “Yes, Sweetie?”

“Could you tell me about Spurhoof?”

Her eyes popped open, taking in the long face of her sibling. “Whyever would you want to know about that?”

Sweetie shifted, her finger fiddling with one of Rarity’s shirt buttons. “I’ve heard all about the Bulletproof Heart. But I want to know about before her. I want to know what your life was like when you weren’t…”

At her hesitancy, Rarity asked, “Come now. Weren’t what?”

Seeming to shrink a little, Sweetie whispered, “So angry.”

The ice returned to Rarity’s chest in full force. The little pony in the back of her head was shooting her a dirty look, as if to say See? I told you so. That Sweetie was so aware of her feelings like this said much about how poorly she’d hidden them.

“Sweetie… I…” What was she supposed to say? Sweetie might not even be capable of understanding. She felt as if she should apologize for something. For being angry? Yes. Maybe. Rarity thought back on how she’d exploded at Cranky the other day, or when she’d slapped Applejack back in Ponyville. Surely, Sweetie must think her a ticking time bomb at this point, just waiting for when she would next unleash fire and fury on some unsuspecting pony. A fresh chill made itself known at the thought that Sweetie might be afraid of her. “I’m so so—”

“No.” Sweetie hugged her tight. Face buried in Rarity’s shirt, she shook her head. “Don’t apologize. There’s nothing wrong with being upset. It’s okay. I j-just… I want to know there were good times while you were gone, too.” She hesitantly added, “There were good times, right?”

Oh, dear Sweetie Belle. Still just a child, yet you’ve grown so much wiser than your bumbling sister.

The ice melted. Rarity held Sweetie close and her tears back. “Yes, Sweetie. There were good times. Years’ worth.” With a weak chuckle, she patted the foal on the head. “They might bore you though.”

Pulling back, Sweetie smiled up at her. “Boring is fine, as long as you were happy. That’s the big sister I want to remember.”

She smiled back and nodded. “Very well. Happy memories. Where to begin?”





A few days later. The Sunpeaks remained visible to the west, but the scenery had begun the gradual shift from sparsely vegetated browns and greys to a more light, sandy brown and the occasional spot of red. It was a far cry from when Rarity had travelled south via the Eerie Cliffs in the east, where the landscape hardly changed even outside the Bowl. This land was no less hilly, but it seemed far less rugged and threatening. The slopes were smooth and rolling, not sharp, and the ground wasn’t so hard.

Still plenty of dead or withered trees, though.

According to Rarity’s map and Applejack’s experience, they were about to exit the Bowl of Equestria proper. Their plan was to follow the Sunpeaks ringing the Great Salt Plains until they reached The Corner, where the Sunpeaks met the Dragon’s Teeth. At their current pace it would take them a little over five weeks to arrive, and then they still had to follow the Teeth for an extra three weeks to reach Rockstead.

Rarity didn’t mind the distance. It just meant more time with Sweetie and Coco before they inevitably separated again.

Today marked the first time in the trip they’d be travelling by day. They’d been transitioning to that gradually, a couple hours at a time. Sweetie and Roan had difficulty keeping up with the steady shift in the sleep routine, though they never complained about having to stay awake a few hours later every day. It would be good to have them back on a regular schedule. Poor Sweetie appeared more and more tired by the day. Rarity and Applejack had already agreed to give them an extra hour of sleep for the next couple days to make up for the trouble.

With the threat of the Apples well behind them, Rarity had finally begun to relax. Today she let Sweetie ride Ophelia, something her sister was thrilled to try as she’d developed a fondness for the pale Dust Devil. For herself, Rarity did something she’d been wanting for a long while: riding with Coco in the wagon.

The young mare held Ruby Heart in both of her small hands, observing it from every angle. Rarity was tempted to tell her not to look down the barrel, even if she’d taken the ammo cartridge out and fired the round that had been inside. Coco remarked, “I’m no gun expert, but this looks like fine art compared to the types of guns I usually see.”

“It is lovely,” Rarity had to admit, smiling despite herself. “I was told it was found in the Siren’s Pass.”

“Found?” Coco tittered. “I don’t suppose they tried to tell you it was made by sirens, too?”

“No, but the location certainly meant something to him.” Rarity took a sip from her canteen as Coco aimed the gun at the back of the wagon. “I really must thank him. Ruby Heart has saved my life on a few occasions.”

“Him who?”

Rarity paused, realizing she’d talked herself into a trap of her own making. She’d not intended to reveal Spike to anypony until they reached Rockstead. Still, it didn’t seem as though there was much point in hiding everything at this juncture. “His name is Spike. He’s a… wealthy banker living near Rockstead. It is he I have asked to look after you and my family.”

Lowering the gun to her lap, Coco asked, as innocently as could be, “Is he your coltfriend?”

Choking on the words she’d been about to utter, Rarity turned to gape at her friend. “What? No. That’s not possible.”

Coco’s head tilted to the side as she frowned. “‘Not possible’? I get if you’re not interested in him but surely it’s not ‘not possible’.”

“No, I assure you, ‘not possible’ is an accurate statement.” Rarity couldn’t help but smile at the very idea. A massive thing like Spike, in a relationship with a tiny pony like her? His eye alone was as big as she was! “He is a dear friend who helped me out in a time of dire need, but I’m afraid it doesn’t go any further than that.”

Coco’s frown grew, and now there was a touch of sadness to her expression. “Let me get this straight. A random stallion, apparently wealthy and powerful, is just… helping you out of the goodness of his heart? Expecting nothing in return whatsoever?”

Rarity fidgeted, one hand touching her necklace. “What are you getting at?”

Tapping her fingers together in a meek display, Coco asked, “Are you sure he knows there’s nothing happening between you?”

It was enough to make Rarity laugh out loud. It wasn’t a quick laugh, either, but a long one full of relief. Rarity wasn’t sure why the idea struck her as so funny, but it kept her going for long enough that only the need to breathe put an end to it. Wiping a tear from her eye, she caught Coco’s distraught look and grinned. “Coco, Spike is old. Very old. Think ‘old enough to be my grandfather’, then go beyond that. He’s positively ancient.”

“Oh.” Coco held her anxious poise, expression frozen in a state of wide-eyed, ears-to-the-ceiling surprise. Then she giggled and relaxed. “Wow, okay, nevermind. For a moment there I really thought you were going to end up hurting the poor stallion.”

“He’s a sweetheart, for all his appearance might suggest otherwise.” Idly, Rarity realized that Spike’s age might not mean anything considering he was a dragon, but she elected not to bring that little tidbit up. She’d just started to enjoy herself, and it wouldn’t do to let confusing things like that get in the way. Spike was a friend, and there was no way he’d see her in such a light. “It will be good to see him again.”

“I can’t wait to thank him.” Coco reached down to take up the Ruby Heart once more. “It was very generous of him to give you this. I figured only somepony with amorous interests would offer such a lovely gift, but I guess that’s just the romantic in me talking.” She offered the gun to Rarity, who accepted it and replaced the ammo cartridge. “It’s still hard to believe you’ve come to appreciate it so much.”

Pausing with Ruby Heart halfway to its holster under her vest, Rarity asked, “How so?”

“You used to loathe guns, Rarity.”

She couldn’t deny that. Slowly, Rarity pulled the weapon back out and stared at it in one hand. One hand. She used to have trouble holding it with two, but now it remained as steady as could be. She took out Silver Lining, held it beside Ruby Heart. It was so easy to control them now. “You lose a lot of your delusions,” she whispered. “When your back’s against the wall and your life is on the line, you come to realize that diplomacy won’t solve everything. It was a hard lesson, but I’d be dead now without it.”

And there went her mood. Rarity sighed and lowered the weapons to her lap. Bowing her head, she said, “You’re right. I once hated guns. And now I appreciate them. So much so that I get a little protective of these two. I’ve really changed since Spurhoof, haven’t I?” She’d tried to make that last part sound chipper, but even her ears could detect how forced it had been.

Leaning forward, Coco rested her hands on one of Rarity’s. Her eyes shone with concern. “Are you going to be okay?”

Rarity wanted to laugh at the question. A sigh escaped her, instead. “I don’t know. I’m trying, and hoping, but… I don’t know.”

A moment of quiet passed between them as Rarity thought on all the issues that had been burdening her in the last few seasons. That alone was enough to reignite her fire. Not wanting to let her ever-present anger come out in front of Coco, she kicked those negative thoughts into the broom closet of her mind and slammed the door. That done, she put Silver Lining and Ruby Heart away.

“I’d rather not talk about this at the moment,” she said with what she hoped was a pleasant smile. “Come, Coco, we’ve barely had time to spend together. Let’s enjoy it while it lasts, hmm?”

Coco’s eyes became nothing short of pitying. “So you’re just going to bottle it up?”

A slow breath. No negativity. No anger. “I can always unleash those emotions on any Apples or bounty hunters who make an appearance.”

“And be miserable in the meantime.” Coco sighed and closed her eyes. “Rarity…”

“I am aware of how you feel about it,” Rarity said before Coco’s thoughts could coalesce into words. “I know a lot of ponies feel the same way. But I don’t have much time with you and Sweetie, and I want that time to be as positive as possible.”

“For nine weeks? Can you hold it in that long?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again. Yes, she’d probably lose her temper at some point before they arrived. Maybe a few times. But if she held it in most of the time, that would make the rest of the trip happy, right? And once she got Sweetie and Coco safely under Spike’s protection, she could go out and unleash Tartarean fury on her enemies. It would be bloody catharsis, but catharsis regardless.

By Luna’s stars, was she actually looking forward to slaughtering Apples now?

“Rarity?”

She might become more like the Vermillion than she’d thought. What if the next site of burning corpses was her own doing? No. She couldn’t be that pony. She mustn’t let it happen!

“Are you okay?”

But she was so frustrated. The Gang wouldn’t leave her alone. The bounty hunters wouldn’t stop coming. She’d have to fight. To kill. The Vermillion said she’d only get better, and she had been, hadn’t she? She was a walking bullet dispenser, leaving a trail of bodies in her wake. How long before she started counting kills as though to keep some kind of twisted score?

“Rarity!”

She could see it now. They’d meet once a season to compare notes and see who’d killed more Apples since their last encounter. They’d joke about the inventive ways they’d committed their individual acts of wanton murder. The Vermillion would water her fury in the garden of her mind, ripening it into a bitter, violent whirlwind of rage and hatred until—

“Rarity!”

She was shaking, and not just because of Coco jostling her. Swallowing to ease her dry throat, Rarity remembered what she was doing and felt foolish for descending into her vile thoughts. “I’m sorry, Coco. I… You shouldn’t be moving about.”

“I’m fine.” Slowly, cringing, Coco settled back on her blankets.

“No, you’re not.” Rarity helped her lay back down, but her gaze was on the royal sigil on her wrist. What would the Sisters think of her in this state? She whispered a mournful, “I’m not.”

“I gathered.” At last comfortably resting against the wall of the wagon, Coco sighed. “Please don’t bottle it in. You’re only hurting yourself.”

Back into her sitting position, Rarity continued to stare at the crest against her pale skin. Was it true that Celestia and Luna could see her through it? Goddess, she hoped not. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“One of the advantages of having friends and family is that we don’t mind you being one.” Coco smiled and grasped Rarity’s wrist with her supple fingers, obscuring the symbol from Rarity’s view. “You should take advantage of it while you still can.”

Coco’s touch, strangely cool, felt disproportionally good from what Rarity would have expected. She grasped that hand with her own and offered a feeble smile. “Since when did you get so wise and assertive?”

“Since somepony forced me to leave Spurhoof.” Coco’s smile grew wry. “Cranky’s got a way of instilling confidence in ponies.”

Rarity’s ears perked, sensing an opportunity she’d long been after. That it would redirect from the current topic was a bonus. Flashing a wicked smile, she said, “You two got really close while I was away.”

Coco blinked, then narrowed her eyes. “You’re trying to distract me.”

Not even bothering to deny it, Rarity sat back and touched a finger to her chin, faking a contemplative expression. “If someone as old as him can get with someone as young as you, perhaps Spike isn’t so out of my range as I thought.”

“Th-that’s not funny!” Coco, eyes wide and expression panicked, pointed an accusing finger at Rarity. “It’s not like that and you know it!”

In truth, this wasn’t quite the reaction Rarity had been going for. She wasn’t about to complain, instead waggling her eyebrows at the furiously blushing young mare. “My, my. Getting a little defensive, are we not?”

After her lips flapped out some indecipherable squeaks, Coco pressed her hands to her face and whined. “Rarity, sto~op!”

Giggles ran through Rarity, bringing back some much needed cheer. Still, she figured she shouldn’t torment Coco too much. She poked her friend’s shoulder playfully. “Come now, Darling, I’m only teasing. Seriously, I’m not going to judge you. Though he does seem a tad old for you, I must say.”

“The idea is just so… so embarrassing!” Coco turned away, nibbling on the tip of her thumb as she stared at the canvas of the wagon. “Me, with him?”

“I don’t hear you denying the possibility,” Rarity noted wryly. The whimpering response brought out another giggle. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. For now.”

“Cranky, he’s…” Groaning, Coco settled back into her sheets and stared at the ceiling with a grim frown. “I don’t think I ‘like’ like him. He’s not really ‘coltfriend’ material. But I… I do like him. I wish I knew what I was feeling.”

Rarity cocked her head. “A crush?”

“Rarity…”

“I assure you, I’m perfectly serious.” Rarity smiled warmly at her former apprentice. “He’s not a bad guy to have one on, if it’s any consolation.”

“It’s not a crush.” Crossing her arms and pouting, Coco added, “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the real issue here. You’re just trying to keep me from talking about your problems.”

Taking on a haughty pose and wagging her finger, Rarity declared, “A crush is no small issue.”

“Compared to an identity and ethical crisis of the soul?”

Rarity flinched. “You make it sound so much worse than…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence, perhaps because she knew it would be a bald-faced lie. She sighed and shook her head. “You’re not going to let me catch a break, are you?”

“You’re the one that needs to give yourself a break,” Coco countered, but without any aggression. “I just want you to be happy. All this worrying and anger, it’s unhealthy. If you need to vent, that’s fine.”

“I’ve done that to too many ponies as it is, and this entire argument is getting circular.” And she really didn’t feel like going through it again. “I appreciate the concern, Coco. Really, I do. But can we please just… not? At least right now? I promise, I’ll try to do better, but for now I just want to distract myself from the issue.”

Coco’s face contorted into a variety of expressions ranging from frustration to concern to sadness before finally settling on acceptance. “I suppose I can understand that. If anypony’s earned a break, it’s you.”

“Thank you.” And Rarity meant it. She held Coco’s hand and shared a silent, smiling moment with her. It was curious, seeing her like this. And not just for the bullet wound she was still recovering from. She’d really grown since they’d parted ways. It had only been a year, but Coco seemed less like a ‘young mare’ and more like a self-assured, confident woman. It was… refreshing.

And curious. “So, tell me. What happened to you after you left Spurhoof?”

The blush returned as Coco averted her eyes. “Oh, it’s nothing that interesting, really.”

“Maybe to you, but I want to know.” Leaning forward and flashing her most hopeful smile, Rarity offered a dainty, “Please?”

Coco raised an eyebrow. “That looks more like something you’d do to a naïve colt than an old friend.”

“So I miscalculated,” Rarity grumbled. “Come on, Coco! I missed a whole year.” Whatever words were meant to come next died in her throat. Ignoring Coco’s curious gaze, she closed her eyes and recalled the date she’d looked up this morning while performing her navigational duties. “Tomorrow’s the twenty-fifth.”

“Uh-huh. What about it?”

Rarity opened her eyes to stare at her former apprentice. She could still recall the ruffian Piles trying to remove Coco’s clothes, even as she stood helplessly by as Braeburn’s plaything. And now they were here again, such very different ponies. “Tomorrow will be the anniversary of Braeburn’s death.”

Coco’s lips parted slightly as she stared. All she managed was a quiet “Oh.”

“A year already.” Rarity turned her gaze to the back of the tent, towards the vast expanse left in their wake. “It hardly seems like so long that I was making pretty dresses and giving weekly donations to the Church.”

Her ear giving a small twitch, Coco, asked, “How does it make you feel?”

Rarity was quiet for a time, her eyes drifting around the wagon interior. The three crates of food, their cans occasionally rattling as the wagon rocked. Her backpack from Hoofington, enchanted to be lighter in weight, the Everflame Log at its side. Dust and sand everywhere, coating the inside of the wagon in a thin film. Sunlight streamed in through the rear of the wagon, revealing tiny floating particles of fine sand. Sweat on her skin, little more than an afterthought after so many seasons of familiarity with it. A sigil of the Church on her wrist, as black as the day she’d been given it. Her jeans, shirt, and vest had been ripped and repaired by her expert hand so many times, her work marked by the thin lines of thread that kept her clothes useable. The jacket, Limestone’s, which she’d had to repair before even the first use, but which didn’t burn her up like she’d feared.

Just one year ago, she’d been wearing a pretty new dress made by her own two hands and horn. She’d spoken to Cleric Walker, who lectured her about being too generous to the Church, of all things. And Night Squash, who’d been complaining about thieves taking from her family garden. They had been planning to build her son and husband a shelter, and the idea had brought forth Rarity’s trademark passion. A passion that nowadays was aimed more towards staying alive and protecting those she loved.

Kind Mr. Gold, always happy to see her every week. His two employees; Tidewind who always had a smart, witty remark on the tip of her tongue, or the flighty Crème Brûlée who dreamed of being pampered by a stallion someday.

And dear Cranky, always stalking around on Piecazzo. Everypony knew that as long as the grouchy old donkey was in town, they were safe. And dear Piecazzo, who always seemed so happy when he crossed paths with Rarity. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his mangled face and hear his sad, pleading trill.

“I feel like the mare I was a year ago no longer exists,” she admitted, finally returning her attention to Coco. “I feel as though Rarity Belle died with Braeburn, and left the Bulletproof Heart behind to pick up the pieces.”

Chewing her lip for a bit, Coco reached out to hold Rarity’s hand. “The Bulletproof Heart will never replace Rarity Belle. You’re still that amazing, generous, loving mare. The same mare that took a lost young pony into her home and taught her how to be a proper seamstress. The fact you traded your skirts for jeans and carry a couple guns doesn’t change who you really are.”

Despite the hollow feeling within, Rarity smiled for Coco. “I don’t know about that.”

“Well, I do.” Coco returned the smile, her manner as warm as a fire on a cold desert night. “And you’ll see it too, Miss Belle. Someday.”

Squeezing Coco’s hand, Rarity wondered if she could possibly know how appreciative she was. Words wouldn’t do it justice. But right now she didn’t want to think about who she was or who she used to be. There was too much sadness in the concept. So she changed the course of their conversation. “Everypony in Equestria knows what I’ve been up to. Maybe I’d like to hear somepony else’s story for a little while.”

After taking a moment to think on that, Coco nodded. “Alright, I get it. But I’ll warn you, it’s pretty boring.”

Pleased her redirection worked, Rarity let out a gasp and set a hand to her chest in mock distress. “Boring? Darling, you are a pony of fashion, and fashion is never boring! I thought I taught you better than this. To even suggest such a barbaric way of thinking. It is clear you’ve been away from my tutelage for far too long.”

Grinning, Coco clasped her hands together and tried to take on a supplicating expression. “Oh, a thousand apologies, Miss Belle! Forgive this lowly apprentice’s trespass. Won’t you show benevolence and take me under your wing once more?”

With an exaggerated “hmmph”, Rarity crossed her arms and turned her head away, muzzle aimed high. “How do I know the lessons would even stick this time?”

“We’ve got almost a whole season,” Coco replied, gesturing to nothing in particular. “A shame we don’t have the needle and thread to do some real sewing.”

Rarity flashed her a knowing grin. “Oh, not to worry. Where you’re going, there will be no shortage of that.”

And so they discussed Coco’s own adventure, and Rarity tried not to think too hard about tomorrow’s anniversary.





As the days passed, the girls’ lives fell into a simple routine. They rode for much of the day, pausing to take breaks so as to keep from overheating beneath the scorching noonday sun. Applejack took to leading them in the mornings, always being awake before dawn. Apparently growing up on a farm made one inclined to such things. Rarity didn’t mind, as it gave her more time to spend with Coco and Sweetie in the mornings, but in the afternoons she would ride out front. Sometimes Applejack would join her, but not often. It seemed she was trying to keep her distance.

Coco had recovered enough by the second week that she could leave the wagon and tend to her own needs. Winona frequently accompanied her, and Rarity was hard pressed to figure out whether she was doing it on her own or on Applejack’s order – the dog seemed a lot smarter than her playful guise might suggest. Sometimes Coco would ask to guide the wagon or ride Ophelia or Moonshine, just for a change of pace. It would be a few weeks yet before she was fully healed, but being able to move about of her own volition did wonders for her and everypony else’s spirits.

Rarity wasted no time catching up with Sweetie Belle. The time she’d missed ate at her, and so she devoted at least a couple hours every day with her little sister. Sweetie was as energetic as ever, and always sought to be helpful in whatever she was doing. Rarity had forgotten that aspect of her sibling, but welcomed it now that Sweetie could be relied upon to do things without wreaking havoc in the process.

And all the things Rarity had missed! That she hadn’t gotten to see Sweetie’s first spell was tragic, but not so much as her first crush. Such an incredible lost opportunity for teasing. It would have been glorious. At least she could still poke fun at Sweetie by asking all sorts of devilishly embarrassing questions regarding preferences. What else were elder sisters for?

Since they were of similar age, Sweetie Belle and Roan Quill tried to get along. It was rough going at first as their respective cultures clashed. The fact Roan ate meat alone put a significant strain on their efforts. But they were stuck together, two young girls among the adults, and so some level of bonding was inevitable. It was a Sistersend that Roan seemed more… ‘civilized’ than those of her race Rarity had experience with. She was a sweet and caring young hen, ever worried that she might say something to offend her companions.

On a morning of the fourth week of travel, Rarity decided to sit with Roan at the front of the wagon. Roan had taken to guiding their Thick Scale, Dune, as if it were her personal job amongst the group. Nopony saw a reason to deny her the opportunity, especially since she seemed to have grown fond of the lumbering creature. Rarity and Roan had rarely spoken to one another, but that was fine by Rarity. She found the young hen to be pleasant company when one wanted to simply relax in companionable silence.

She was busy reviewing her map, noting that they were probably less than a day from the Evernight Passage. A curious landmark, that, and the easiest way to reach Las Pegasus over the mountains. Not that Rarity had any intention of heading that way. Not only was it in the complete wrong direction, that city was known for its lawlessness. The Mareami of the West, as it was known. And then there was the Everfree Forest beyond, a place Rarity never intended to visit.

“Umm… Miss Belle?”

Rarity’s ears perked, though she didn’t stop studying her map. It was a rare thing for Roan to speak to her directly. “Yes, Darling?”

“I, umm, is it…”

Long accustomed to the young hen’s trouble asking questions, Rarity rolled her map up and gave Roan a patient smile. She’d learned long ago that the best encouragement for her was silence.

After much fidgeting and stammering, Roan finally managed to say, “Is it alright if I asked you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Ab… About the Bulletproof Heart?”

Rarity felt her smile crack, silently cursing herself when Roan flinched. “Of course.”

Roan said nothing for some time, hunched down and looking away at a low angle. The feathers on the back of her neck stood up in what Rarity recognized as a sign of fear, although she’d also seen Roan express anger that way. Rarity didn’t press her, knowing curiosity would win in the end.

The griffon didn’t disappoint. “Is it… Is it true you fought griffons in the Scorched Plains?”

Crap. There was that ball of ice. Rarity hadn’t missed it. It had never occurred to her that Roan might have some lingering feelings regarding that. In hindsight, such a possibility should have been obvious. Maybe this explained why Roan seemed to be scared of her? Oh, the poor thing!

“I did have to fight them,” she conceded carefully. “Once. When they tried to enslave me and my fellow caravaners.”

To her surprise, Roan seemed to relax upon hearing that answer. The feathers on the back of her neck gradually flattened back out. “Oh, good. I th-thought you’d fought against my roost.”

Ah, here was a topic Rarity had been neglecting! What a delightful opportunity to do something about it. “Octavia told me you belonged to a roost in the Siren’s Fin?”

Smiling wistfully, the griffon nodded. “The Ashfeather Roost. We came out of hiding… forty years ago? Something like that. Our population has sorta blown up since then.”

Forty years? The Apex Roost in the Eerie Cliffs had been around more than twice that amount of time. Maybe thrice. It made Rarity wonder how many more were out there, hidden beneath Equestrian soil and just waiting for the appropriate time to emerge beneath Celestia’s sun once more. Still, the recent nature of this new roost’s arrival on the Equestrian stage, and in such a remote location, went a long ways towards explaining why she’d never heard of them.

Another thought came to mind, and this one had her ears folding back in concern. “In the last few years, the buffalo have been in open conflict with the griffons. Is that because of the emergence of the Ashfeathers?”

Appearing grim, Roan nodded. “I haven’t been home in ages, and I was young when the Apex Roost took me, but I remember we were running out of food. Fishing could only feed so many of us. I think Uncle Night Pinion wanted to grow crops in the Plains, but the tribes wouldn’t let us. I guess talks broke down.”

That would explain a lot. Rarity recalled the animosity the griffons of the Apex Roost… Wait. “You said the Apex Roost kidnapped you? As in not the Bad Apples?”

Roan gave another grim nod. “I don’t know why they took me, or why they gave me to the Bad Apples for safekeeping. I only know I wasn’t with the Apex griffons for very long.”

What kind of sinister secrets had just been revealed? Rarity wondered at what the Apex Roost and the Bad Apple Gang might be doing if they were working together. Perhaps it was a mere business partnership. She wouldn’t put it past the Gang to hire the Apex griffons to kidnap a hostage, but what in Equestria would they want from the Ashfeathers to warrant acquiring one? She could think of no way such an arrangement would benefit them. But there was an arrangement, and if it involved the Bad Apples then Rarity couldn’t completely ignore it. Doing so may very well come back to bite her in the future.

Yet this was all a problem for later. Right now this reminded her of an entirely different can of worms. “Roan, Darling? How did you intend to get back to the Ashfeather Roost safely when the Buffalo are at war with them?”

“Oh, that’ll be easy.” Roan offered a confident, reassuring smile behind her beak. “As long as I stick to the Dragon’s Teeth and cross at the Siren’s Pass, I’ll be fine. The Buffalo don’t consider the Pass to be part of their lands, so I won’t run into any of them. From there it’s just a two- or three-day flight over the mountains of the Fin.”

Rarity tried to envision such a journey in her head. The Fin, a small and mountainous peninsula, wasn’t near as rough as the Dragon’s Teeth from which it extended. Still, Roan was barely a teenager. “And you’re sure you can make that kind of journey?”

“Sure! Well…” The young hen hunched down a little and tapped two of her talons together bashfully. “I’ve, uh, never travelled by myself before, and it is a few days’ journey. B-but I’m sure I can handle it! How hard can it be?”

Indeed, that was the question of the hour. But since the silly hen had dared to say it in that particular way, something bad was bound to happen. Perhaps Rarity should consider bringing her to her roost personally?

She scowled at the thought. It had come so readily, so easily. Wasn’t this exactly the kind of thing she’d been telling herself to avoid? Roan could make the journey on her own, surely. She had to get out of this ridiculous habit of jumping to the rescue of every poor soul that made itself known to her!

“Umm, did I say something wrong?”

Shaking out of her thoughts, Rarity saw the worried, self-recriminating look on Roan’s face. “Oh. Oh! No, sorry, Darling. I was just… reminded of something. It’s nothing you did or said.”

Fidgeting with Dune’s reins, Roan struggled to form more words. “You’re sure? If I said something to offend…”

“You’re fine, Roan.” Rarity set a hand to the young griffon’s shoulder. “I’m just worried about you is all. It would be terrible for you to come so close to home just to fail at the last leg of the journey. Are you sure you won’t need any help?” She resisted the urge to cringe at the query. What was she doing, subtly offering her services when she just told herself to stop doing exactly that?

Roan hesitated, twisting the reins in her talons over and over again. “N-no, it’s alright. I’ve got to learn to make it on my own, right?” She nodded, seemingly more to herself than to Rarity. “The Bulletproof Heart can’t be everywhere. I-I need to learn to fend for myself.”

Though she lacked apparent confidence, the griffon’s words brought a swelling of pride to Rarity. “Well said. I would be happy to assist if you need it, but ponies like me won’t be around every time you need help.”

What am I doing?

Distancing myself from responsibility?

She’s only a child!

That doesn’t mean I have to hold her talon all the way to her roost. The fact that she has talons automatically makes her more able to survive compared to, say, Sweetie Belle.

A child. Travelling alone.

And to suggest she can’t do it is disrespectful to her!

Do I think her dear uncle would appreciate such a decision?

They’re griffons. They’re a warrior race.

Oh, now I’m just stereotyping.

Yeah, I’ll admit, that was tasteless.

The fact her inner voices had actually agreed on something for a change stalled the argument entirely. Rarity stared at the horizon, momentarily stumped. When she finally broke out of it, she found Roan staring at nothing, head bowed and expression troubled. “Roan?”

“Do you think a griffon could become like the Bulletproof Heart?”

Everything in Rarity’s brain screeched to a stop. “No!” She grabbed the young hen by the shoulders, forcing her to turn and face her. “This is not a game. It is not fun. It is scary and hard and you’re always afraid you or someone you love will die. For the Love of Luna, child, abandon that idea right now.”

Given Roan’s timid nature, Rarity expected many things. Perhaps she would cry, or try to run and hide, or maybe just go quiet. None of those things happened. Instead, Roan’s eyes hardened as they met Rarity’s with all the qualities of a blade poised to strike. They were so unlike anything Rarity would have expected from a fourteen-year-old that they made whatever else she planned to say fade from her thoughts.

“I’m not stupid, Miss Belle. I know I’m young, but I’m not stupid.” Roan jerked from Rarity’s already weakened grip and faced forward once more, her expression frigid. “I spent years as a prisoner of ponies. I woke up every morning wondering if that would be the day they’d take me away. They stole me from my own home. So, yes, I know it’s dangerous. I know I could die, and I’d appreciate you not putting down my own experiences with the Gang and the Apex Roost.”

Biting her lip to keep from snapping out a retort, Rarity allowed herself a moment of thought. She still suspected Roan of underestimating the dangers of the life the Bulletproof Heart led, but she could also acknowledge that might not be the case. Roan was right, she had forgotten that she wasn’t talking to a child ignorant of the threats. Her response had come in a rush brought on by fear, and not fair to Roan at all. Though she desired to properly explain herself, shame mixed with ongoing worry forced her to limit her response to a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

The young hen’s shoulders slowly lost their tension. She closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s okay. I know you meant well. And I didn’t mean I wanted to be you now. Or at all.” She bowed her head to stare at the reins in her talons. “It’s just that… there really is only one of you. If there had been more, maybe I wouldn’t have been stuck there so long. Maybe I never would have been kidnapped at all. I know you’re not happy, but you’re still an inspiration. Maybe if there were more Bulletproof Hearts in the world, things wouldn’t be so hard.”

An inspiration. For the first time in ages, Rarity thought of Troublemaker. She couldn’t even remember his real name, and for that she felt a touch guilty. Where was he? What was he up to? Come to think of it, she didn’t even know if he’d survived that little spat between the Apex Roost and the Buffalo. Her gaze drifted to the horizon, dry and radiating heat as it was. He’d looked up to her, hadn’t he? Another child inspired by the fabulous Bulletproof Heart. He could be a corpse and she’d have no way of knowing.

He wasn’t the only one. She’d not thought of Flintlock in a while. It hurt, like a ball of razors sitting where her heart should be, but at least she knew for sure that he was dead. Dead because he’d followed her lead, even if she hadn’t noticed.

“I took a pony under my wing once.” She waited until Roan was looking at her to continue. It took a while, but she was comforted that Roan appeared less eager and more concerned when she did. “I didn’t want to, but the boy was hopeless on his own. I feared if I didn’t at least teach him a thing or two he might end up dead. I never intended to have him around for more than a couple weeks.”

Though doing it made the ball of razors shift uncomfortably, Rarity made herself meet Roan’s gaze. “He’s dead now. Sacrificed himself so that the day could be won. I was an inspiration, and that led to death.” Releasing a slow breath and rubbing her necklace, Rarity faced forward once again, unable to raise her head. “So you see, Roan, I am not eager to have others try to follow in my hoofsteps.”

Roan said nothing, and for a time they merely rode together, keeping one another company. Rarity idly wondered if Coco had heard the entire exchange through the canvas. Possibly. At least Sweetie was up ahead on Ophelia, playing at being the leader with Applejack. That Rarity had dissuaded her own sister from trying to lead this kind of life was a great comfort.

After a long, brooding silence, Roan finally spoke up, albeit hesitantly. “I guess this means you really aren’t trying to restart the Rainbow Gang, huh?”

Restart the Rainbow Gang? Is that what the rumors were suggesting about her now? Or maybe Roan had developed that idea all on her own. It was mildly surprising she even knew what the Rainbow Gang was, considering her age and origins. But then, living among imprisoned ponies for the last few years could have taught her anything.

Realizing Roan probably wanted an answer, she replied, “No. That was never my intention.”

“Right.” Roan flicked the reins, the motion weak and disinterested. “Too bad.”

They barely talked for the rest of the morning.





Ever since they’d left the others behind, Applejack had been keeping her distance from Rarity. They might engage in small talk every now and then, and of course they had to discuss certain decisions such as navigation as they arose. But otherwise the head of the Apple Family appeared to be giving Rarity a lot of space. Perhaps she’d finally grasped Rarity's supreme disapproval of her. Whatever the reason, Rarity had been glad for the mare’s discretion. By now, nearly five weeks into their trip, she no longer felt so jumpy around her.

Even so, she tensed when Applejack ended up riding at her side one evening at the head of their miniature caravan. “Rarity, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “You can talk all you want, so long as you keep your hands to yourself.”

Applejack’s brow furrowed in uncertainty, and Rarity couldn’t blame her. Even she wasn’t sure if she’d meant that to come out in jest or not.

“Uh, right.” Applejack shook herself out of it, apparently deciding no comment was needed for the response. She kept Moonshine at a respectable distance from Ophelia. Winona wasn’t riding with her today, but that was hardly unusual as she would sometimes stay in the wagon with Coco. The affectionate creature was a wonderful boon for morale, although Rarity drew the line at any more licks to the face.

“So, I swear I didn’t mean to, but I overheard a little of what you spoke to Roan about the other day.” Her eyes darted to Rarity’s, almost certainly seeking some sign of disapproval.

Rarity shrugged. “It’s alright. It’s not like we were trying for privacy.”

Letting out a small breath of relief, Applejack nodded. “Okay. Good. Now, I don’t mean to pry on your personal life or nothin’, but… have you spoken to anypony about it?”

Thinking back to her conversation with Roan, Rarity frowned. “About what, exactly?”

Applejack pursed her lips. It was several long seconds before she answered, and that came slowly, as if she were picking her words carefully. “About how inspirin’ other ponies has led to bad things. About how you don’t want no ponies followin’ in your hoofsteps.”

Oh, right. That part. In truth, Rarity hadn’t spoken of that to anypony before, had she? Suddenly, Applejack’s intentions were obvious. Were they welcome? Rarity wasn’t entirely sure, but now she understood why the mare was treating this conversation as one might when crossing a field of broken glass. The entire topic made her feel… prickly.

She refused to let herself snap. Applejack’s faults had nothing to do with this topic. True, being in her presence left Rarity with an urge to grasp Silver Lining as a precaution, but she didn’t need to get snippy over something that had never been related to Applejack to begin with. “I suppose you aim to have me talk about it now then?”

“I just wanna be sure you’re okay. Somethin’ like that…” Applejack looked away, but not before Rarity caught her sad expression. “It can really weigh a mare down.”

For the briefest of moments Rarity was tempted to ask what she meant. She shoved it down quickly. For all she knew, bringing this up at all was some kind of trap for getting her to like Applejack a little more. She didn’t think Applejack was that devious, but it never hurt to be cautious.

So instead, Rarity kept the conversation on topic. “I’m not sure what you’d like me to say. Two ponies were inspired by me, and one is certainly dead. The other might be.”

Applejack’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, two?”

“Yes?” Rarity cocked her head. “Did I not talk about both of them?”

“Not really.” Grumbling to herself, Applejack said, “I get it might be a sore spot, but I wanted you to know you could talk to me about it. If you needed to, ya get me?”

“As opposed to talking to Coco about it?” Rarity shot her a hard look, wanting to make it absolutely clear she questioned the mare’s motivations.

Applejack’s expression soured. “Has Coco gotten anypony killed because they tried to be more like her?”

That gave Rarity pause. “No?” Oh, Sisters, I hope not!

“Then she can’t understand. She’ll try, of course. Try real hard. But unless it’s happened to you, it just ain’t possible. So she might not be able to help you, and that leaves her feelin’ helpless and guilty, so you try to pretend to feel better for her sake.” Applejack met Rarity’s gaze, eyes steely. “Pretty soon everypony’s miserable and nopony knows what to do to stop it. It’s a vicious cycle.”

If there’d been any doubt that Applejack was speaking from experience before, it was gone now. Rarity almost bit the bait. The question was on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for her to lasso and tie herself to this mare. But once that happened, there might never be an escape, and Rarity was too afraid of that possibility to let the words go.

So, though it required a hint of a struggle, she found other words. “I… appreciate what you’re trying to offer me. But I don’t think I’m quite ready to entrust this to anypony yet.” Much less you.

Applejack’s face twisted into a grimace, but she said nothing. Slowly, with visible effort, she forced her lips back to a neutral position. “I suppose that’s fair. As long as you find somepony to talk to about it. You can’t let this keep eatin’ you.”

“It’s not…” Rarity clamped her teeth closed. It was eating at her, deep down. The dreams proved it. Every time she recalled Flintlock, all she could really think of was how broken he’d appeared. To say nothing of his ghostly inquires wanting to know why she hadn’t saved his life.

She wasn’t going to lash out over this. She was not!

“You okay?”

Hissing through her teeth, Rarity shook her head. “Don’t try to talk to me about it.”

A prolonged, heavy quiet settled over them, thick and uncomfortable.

Applejack growled. “What in thunderin’ tarnation am I going to have to do to earn your trust?”

The little pony in Rarity’s mind took on a disappointed look. Well, at least I tried.

“Earn my trust?” she snarled back. “Enough that maybe I’ll let you in my pants again, I suppose?”

To Applejack’s credit, she didn’t shout. “Is that what you think of me? That every single action I take is designed to get some flank? This may come as a surprise to you, Bulletproof, but I don’t go chasin’ after every tail I see.”

“Oh, so I’m a special case, am I?”

“Yes.” Applejack took a long, slow breath. “That’s what I was tryin’ to explain to you back in Ponyville.”

Was that what she was supposed to get out of that confession? As much as it made her blood boil, Rarity still couldn’t deny that she continued to believe Applejack was sorry about what happened between them. But curse Discord, she didn’t want to believe it. “It’s pointless. I’m not the special pony you’ve made me out to be.”

Applejack huffed and shook her head. “Yeah, you are. You just ain’t figured it out for yourself yet.”

“Isn’t that sweet?” Rarity worked extra hard to combine cloying sugariness with blatant skepticism and sarcasm. “You’ll tell me I’m ‘special’ and ‘unique’ and then I’ll raise my tail for you.”

“I’m just tryin’ to help.”

“Yourself, perhaps.”

Applejack threw back her head and let out something between a cry and a groan. “For fuck’s sake, Rarity, we’ve been travellin’ together for half the season now! Don’t you think if I was that kind of mare I’d have made a move already?”

“If it bothers you so much that I won’t put out, why do you bother to stick with us at all?”

“Because you’re…!” Abruptly, as if she’d been slapped in the face, Applejack went quiet. All anger disappeared from her visage as she stared at the reins in her hands. She reached up to rub the necklace under her shirt. Gradually, her expression fell and her shoulders slumped. Rarity watched all of this out the corner of her eyes, wondering what was going through the mare’s mind.

“Because you’re hurtin’, and not just because of what I did. You’re a natural with a gun, but your heart ain’t in it.” She turned partially to Rarity, unable to meet her gaze. “I thought you were amazing when I first started huntin’ you down. Now that I’ve gotten to know you a little more, I realize you’re a lot more than what I’d been hopin’. But that level of… of ‘good’ in you means this lifestyle is harder for you than most. I don’t want to see the best thing that’s happened to Equestria since the Rainbow Gang crumble under the weight of it all.”

Rarity fought for some properly heated response to this, but it eluded her. After all, what Applejack said was entirely true: she was being crushed under the weight of this lifestyle. It wasn’t hers, and she’d never wanted it. And maybe, just maybe, she was denying herself a perfectly suitable direction to channel her feelings. What Applejack offered was undeniably tempting, which was probably why she had such a strong negative reaction to it.

Or maybe it was that the offer came from Applejack.

“I…” Damn it all, she was supposed to be putting up a stronger front than this!

Applejack spoke up before Rarity could form a proper response. “I can put up with you bein’ sassy and snappy and sometimes downright mean. I can do that because I know where it’s comin’ from. I’ll even admit that you’ve got a good reason to hate me. I’ll take those hits. If bein’ your punchin’ bag helps you get over this hump, that’s fine. But you ain’t gonna get rid of me with it. I’m stickin’ with you until I know you won’t do nothin’ really bad. So unless you decide to shoot me, you best get used to it.”

There was no firmness in her words, but Rarity didn’t doubt their honesty. When she really looked at the situation, she probably wouldn’t ever actually shoot Applejack. Oh, she fantasized about the idea fairly regularly, but to actually do it?

She heaved a weary sigh and stared at the back of Ophelia’s head. “What do you expect me to do? I barely remember our first encounter, and I just can’t get over how… how dirty it makes me feel. Like I’m a whorse. Did I even try to fight it, or did I just spread my legs because you put a few bottles of alcohol in me?”

“Well, you put most of the alcohol in yourself,” Applejack admitted warily, as if afraid of what reaction she might get. “I only introduced you to that one bottle of cider.”

That didn’t answer the question, which left Rarity feeling small. That now-familiar itching between her thighs was back. She bit her lip and clenched her eyes closed. “P-please don’t dodge this. I… I need to know.”

Silence. Long, pronounced, mind-numbing silence. Rarity whimpered and clutched at her necklace.

When Applejack finally answered, it was in a whisper so quiet she almost missed it. “I told ya before, I thought it was a regular thing for you.”

Rarity was glad she was riding Ophelia. She didn’t think her legs would have held her right now. The bottom of the world seemed to fall out from under her, leaving nothing but an empty, wretched feeling within. She curled forward, fighting the urge to cry. Or throw up.

This. This was why she hated Applejack. But it had never been Applejack she’d hated, had it?

“It… It don’t mean nothin’,” Applejack tried. “I mean, you were drunk. Royally smashed. Ponies do things when they’re all liquored up, y’know?”

It meant something. It had to. Was Rarity really that easy? Would she have gone to bed with anypony that night? “Oh, Celestia, forgive me for what I am…”

“You stop that right now!” Applejack maneuvered closer and glared. “You ain’t a whorse, Rarity. You found somethin’ to take your mind off your problems, and you only did it once. Stop beatin’ yourself up over this!”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Rarity muttered, rubbing a hand across her burning eyes. “At least you remember it. M-my first time, stolen because I was too weak and eager and dirty and too fucking drunk to say no.”

“No. No, no, no.” Applejack reached over and jostled her shoulder. “You stay mad at me, you hear? You take it out on me. You’re supposed to hate me!”

“I do hate you!” But the vehemence with which she’d said it did little to hide the truth. She jerked her arm away from Applejack’s grip and guided Ophelia a few paces away. “Ponies look up to me. They admire me. Is this what they’re supposed to be looking up to?”

“You made a mistake,” Applejack insisted, a faint desperation in her words. “You think nopony in the Rainbow Gang did the same? Hay, have you any idea how many ponies the Solid Citrine slept with before she died in Ponyville?”

“That’s not the—” Applejack’s words filtered into her addled brain, stealing away her argument before it could fully form. The self-directed horror dimmed as she tried to piece this new information together. “She… did?”

Applejack’s smile was strained, a haunted mix of relief and amusement. “Yeah, and totally shameless about it. Used to boast right in front of me before I even knew what sex was.” She took off her hat and ran her fingers through her mane. “I always wondered if boastin’ was a pegasus thing. Like naps.”

Rarity’s brain cells tried to restart her thought processes, but somehow this revelation was keeping her stalled. “B-but she’s a… I mean, really. It’s. Well, she’s a… It’s not the same?”

“How?” Applejack’s narrowed eyes offered challenge as she made an inviting gesture. “Come on, how? She’s a hero. Nopony cared about her sex life. That’s her business. What makes what happened between us so much worse than what she did willingly and regularly?”

“But that’s—” Little sounds of frustration escaped from Rarity’s taught throat as she struggled to form some kind of answer. “B-but I’m not willing. I m-mean, I shouldn’t be…” Her words only grew quieter as she spoke. “I do feel shame about it though. I can’t help that, Applejack. I gave in to it so easily. I w-was a virgin.”

At that, Applejack’s face lit up like a sunset. She glanced away and muttered, “Yeah, well, so was I.”

“What?”

She cringed, shoulders hunching upwards. “I-it ain’t no big deal.”

“No big deal?” Using her magic, Rarity grabbed her by the shirt and forced Applejack to face her. “No big deal? You threw your innocence away on a drunken mare you’d never met!”

“I didn’t throw nothin’ away.” Applejack tugged on her shirt, but couldn’t free it from Rarity’s magical grip. “I gave it to you, and happily. I don’t regret losin’ it, I only regret that it made you the miserable, angry mare you are today!”

“Why?” Rarity demanded, her throat aching from the strain in her voice. “Why would you do that? What in Equestria were you thinking?”

“Havin’ trouble stayin’ on my lizard here.”

Only then did Rarity realize she had Applejack dangling halfway off Moonshine, who was too close to Ophelia to stay under her. She barely even noticed the strain the mare’s weight produced on her horn. Taking a few slow breaths, she put Applejack back on the Dust Devil and let the aura around her horn die. “I-I’m sorry, Applejack. I just don’t understand how you could do something like that so freely.”

After adjusting her shirt, coat and hat, Applejack replied, “It’s alright, Sugarcube. And if I’m wholly honest, I don’t know why I did it either. But I don’t feel that I lost nothin’. If anythin’, I feel like I gave you somethin’.” Her expression fell once more. “I just wish you’d taken it better.”

Sighing, Rarity’s attention returned to the back of Ophelia’s head, her entire body feeling as if it had gained an extra hundred pounds. “I guess this means we’re both dirty ponies.”

Applejack chuckled. “Don’t bother me none. I was raised on a farm. Bein’ dirty is all part of the game.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “You are such a cad.”

“I have no idea what that means.” Applejack smirked. “So I’ll take it as a compliment.”

The laughter surprised Rarity even as it rolled out of her throat, and soon Applejack joined her. For just a moment, things felt a little better. Only for a moment, and then, like a slow-moving sandstorm blocking out the sunlight, Rarity felt her mood descending once again. But the laughter echoed in her ears for a while, reminding her that maybe, just maybe, there would be sunlight on the other end.

After a few minutes of what might have been considered companionable silence, Rarity found her voice, feeble though it was. “I don’t know how to make this right for me, Applejack.”

“And I don’t know how to help ya, Miss Belle.” Applejack tugged her hat down and lowered her head, hiding her eyes. “But you keep on walkin’ the line, and I think you’ll figure it out someday.”

And then, as if she’d inspired herself, she began to quietly sing.

“I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I keep my eyes wide open all the time

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds

Because you’re mine, I walk the line.”

Rarity forced her lips into a thin, neutral line, if only to keep a smile from forming. “Don’t think serenading me will get you anywhere.”

Applejack didn’t look up, but she did gain a small, lopsided smirk. “Trust me, when I’m ready to serenade you, you’ll know it.”

They said nothing after that. The problems and doubts still plagued Rarity, and she knew she had a long way to go before she’d be comfortable with what she’d done. Perhaps that time would never come.

But she felt a little more relaxed with Applejack now. Maybe she could take that as a win.
> Episode 25: Change of Plans
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


56th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


Rarity thought nothing of it when Roan took to the air without warning. The young hen had a habit of taking brief flights to stretch her wings, something she’d never been permitted to do as a hostage. There was no reason to stop her. Granted, she’d be more visible in the sky, but that came with her being able to see whatever was coming. The option for an early warning, she and Applejack agreed, made it worth the risk.

When Roan landed not two minutes later in Ophelia’s path however, she realized something was wrong. She paused the Dust Devil’s slow pace, taking in Roan’s hunched form and darting eyes. “Did you see something?”

Roan nodded sharply. “We’re being followed. I’m sorry, I thought I was seeing things yesterday so I didn’t say anything, but now I’m sure and I should have said something.”

A quiet curse slipped between Rarity’s lips. When they’d turned east less than a week ago, she’d started to think they were going to make it all the way to Rockstead without a hitch. She should have known better than to tempt fate like that. Turning in her saddle, she waved Applejack over from behind the wagon. Then she recalled Roan’s jittery fidgeting and guilty expression. “It’s alright, Darling. You’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, you’ve helped us significantly by spotting the problem ahead of time.” The guilt faded from Roan’s face, but not the fear. Perhaps there was nothing to be done about that.

Applejack reached them at last. “What’s goin’ on?” Her manner was all business.

“Roan says we’re being followed.” Rarity climbed off Ophelia so that she could speak to the griffon from a less intimidating position. The poor thing looked nervous enough as it was. “Okay, tell us what you saw. Are there many of them?”

Looking to the west from where they’d come, Roan’s eyes visibly shifted focus, the irises becoming smaller. She clicked her beak a couple times, head perfectly still compared to the rest of her body. “I think there’s only one. I’m not sure. But it’s a flyer, definitely.”

“A pegasus?” Rarity asked, chewing her lip as she considered what this might mean.

“Maybe?” Roan maintained her steady vigil, head slowly swiveling to the left, then to the right. “It’s staying out of sight. I think it knows it’s been spotted. It was too far away for me to know anything beyond the fact it’s there.”

Rarity and Applejack shared a concerned frown. “Perhaps it is an Apple scout?” Rarity asked. “Somepony to keep an eye on us while some group they’re attached to sets up an ambush?”

“Could be.” Applejack looked west as if she expected to see something on the horizon. If she did, she didn’t reveal it. “The Bad Apples don’t like workin’ with anypony that isn’t an earth pony, but they do recruit the other races from time to time. Pegasi recruits are the rarest.”

“I haven’t seen any evidence of that,” Rarity countered, although without conviction. “I’ve fought pegasi and unicorns working under their name. Although I admit, earth ponies were the most common.” She checked her ammo count in both guns. More of a habit than a necessity, as she’d made sure they were loaded after every practice session with them.

“Crap.” Applejack took her hat off and held it to her breast, expression going dark. “What if it’s the Flamin’ Vermillion?”

“Stormy Flare?” Rarity’s first instinct was to be alarmed by this prospect, but that faded quickly as she considered the situation. “I don’t know if that would be such a bad thing.”

“The mare’s a walkin’ disaster area.” Slapping her hat back on her head, Applejack followed Rarity’s example and checked her ammunition. “If she’s nearby, I’m gonna be extra cautious. She might not target us specifically, but she won’t be too wary about the direction her bullets are flyin’ either.”

And there were the piles of burning corpses to consider. Now that Rarity recalled those, suddenly she wasn’t too keen on the Vermillion’s presence herself. She thought about her brief encounter with the mare several weeks back, the way she spoke of death. That kind of pony didn’t need to be around Roan or Sweetie.

Then Rarity remembered something else, something she’d not told Applejack before. “Oh, dear. She might be coming to make an offer again.”

Applejack shot her a critical look. “What kind of offer?”

“An offer to join her in slaughtering Apples, of course.” Then it dawned upon her. “If it is her, maybe she’s following us in hopes of running into more Apples to kill.”

Roan, who had yet to stop staring to the west, spoke up. “She isn’t coming to talk. If she were, she wouldn’t be trying to stay hidden like this.”

The wagon at last caught up to them, Coco and Sweetie side by side on the driver’s bench. “What’s going on?” Coco asked.

“We got ourselves a stalker,” Applejack answered with all the subtlety of a hammer to the head. She looked to Rarity once more. “Maybe I should head back there, see if I can’t figure out the truth.”

No consideration was needed. “No.” Rarity looked to Sweetie and Coco as she spoke. “Only two of us are good for a fight. Splitting up now just puts the rest more at risk. We stick together.” She gave Applejack a chance to challenge her conclusion, but no arguments arose. Turning to Roan, she said, “Are you sure it’s just one?”

Roan clicked her beak a few times, fiddling with the claws of her talons even as she maintained her eagle-eyed vigil. “I’ve only seen one. But it can fly. There may be others trailing behind too far to see.” Right. Rarity hadn’t accounted for that yet. Now she really was glad Applejack hadn’t pressed her to go it alone.

Sweetie leaned forward, worry clear in her gaze. “What are we gonna do, Sis?”

“Keep goin’,” Applejack said with confidence. She met Rarity’s glance and asked, “What else can we do?”

She was right, of course. They couldn’t very well cross the Dragon’s Teeth, it would do them no good, and Rarity wasn’t inclined to test her luck in the Scorched Plains a second time. And entering the Great Salt Plains at this juncture? Not a chance.

“We keep going.” She waved her hand in a vague eastern direction. “If we’re lucky, nothing will come of it. In the meantime we’ll just have to stay extra vigilant. Sweetie, Roan, Coco? I want you all taking turns sitting in the back of the wagon. As long as at least one of you is keeping an eye to our backs then the rest of us can sleep a little more soundly.”

They all agreed with this general tactic and worked out a basic rotation for keeping watch. They were soon on the move again, but now with a clear tension in the air. Rarity returned to leading the caravan, not daring to hope that their luck would keep up until Rockstead.





Roan had taken to flying regularly now, letting her keep better watch of their mystery pursuer when it was her turn. It had been three days since they’d noticed him or her, and still the pony hadn’t bothered to come close. And since no ambushes had occurred yet, Applejack and Rarity were in tacit agreement it was probably the Flaming Vermillion.

In an effort to keep things as normal and calm as possible, Rarity hadn’t changed her own routine. Today she drove the wagon, Coco at her side and Sweetie in her lap. Her sister was a little big for that now, but Rarity put up with it. A little discomfort was a fair price to pay for some bonding time with her sibling, especially now that they were only a few weeks from their destination.

It was nearing time for their afternoon break when Sweetie spoke up. “Isn’t the Flaming Vermillion supposed to be a hero?”

Rarity shared an uncertain look with Coco. This was the first time Sweetie had spoken out about the Vermillion since they’d learned they were being followed. Rarity had been relieved at that. This question, however, left her worried. Had Sweetie been trying to make sense of this situation all along?

Apparently tired of waiting for a response, Sweetie continued, “She was part of the Rainbow Gang, right? They were heroes. They fought the bad guys. So why are we, like, running away from her?”

With a sigh, Rarity rubbed her hand on Sweetie’s shoulder. “Ponies change. The Flaming Vermillion lost something important to her long ago, and now she’s… angry. It’s not safe to be around her.”

“We have to keep our distance,” Coco added, her tone gentle and sweet. “I don’t think she wants much to do with us anyway, otherwise why would she stay away like she has been?”

Sweetie was quiet for a while, and Rarity started to hope she’d accepted their excuses. But then the filly spoke, her voice fragile. “Angry in the same way you are?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Rarity quickly handed the reins to Coco and gave Sweetie a tight squeeze. “No. Honey, I’m not… I mean, yes, I am angry, but the Vermillion and I are not the same. Why, I’m getting better every day!”

“Are not.” Ignorant of how those simple words set a stinging flame in Rarity’s heart, Sweetie pressed herself a little tighter against her sister’s belly. “You’re pretending, and maybe you’re calmer right now, but you’re not better. I hear you muttering to yourself when you think I’m sleeping.”

Rarity tensed. So, the little snitch was spying on her, was she? What cheek! If she couldn’t be trusted to let Rarity have her moments of brooding, mayhap she could try sleeping by herself for a change.

Recognizing her own thoughts, Rarity shook them off and began petting Sweetie’s mane. She wouldn’t lash out, not at Sweetie Belle. “You said it yourself, there’s nothing wrong with being angry.”

“Very wise words,” Coco added, only to flinch and glance away at Rarity’s glare. The reaction brought an instant wave of guilt, but Rarity let it slide for now. She’d just have to apologize later.

“I know I said that.” Sweetie wrapped her arms around Rarity’s, holding on tight. “But you said the Vermillion’s angry too. What’s the difference?”

I don’t leave piles of burning corpses in my wake? That was a little too graphic for a pony Sweetie’s age. “The Vermillion let her anger take over her heart. It is all she knows. I’m not that far gone.”

Shifting a little, Sweetie tilted her head back to stare up at Rarity with moist, fretful eyes. She didn’t say anything. There was no need. The question was as plain as the muzzle on her face or the pale streaks in her mane.

Gritting her teeth, Rarity fought down the urge to snap. What right did Sweetie have to look at her that way? She wasn’t going to succumb to her anger, even if it was entirely justified. Yes, justified! What did she know of struggling to stay alive, of watching her life’s ambition crumble, of seeing friends die just for being associated with her? So yes, she was angry, and there was nothing wrong with that. She wasn’t the same as the Vermillion!

“Rarity, that hurts…”

So let it hurt! Rarity had been hurting for a year now. So what if she— “Oh!”

At last noticing both her vile thoughts and the way she’d been squeezing Sweetie against her in a death grip, she eased her hold. A fresh wave of guilt washed through her, but it wasn’t enough to douse the fire that had been ignited. She fought to push it down. Sweetie didn’t deserve to become a target and neither did Coco. She abruptly appreciated Applejack’s offer to be her verbal punching bag. Alas, Applejack was behind the wagon right now, unavailable for a proper tongue lashing.

…that didn’t come out right even in my head.

Sweetie squirmed in her lap. “Can’t I do anything to help?”

“No.” Rarity flinched at the harshness of her tone. “I mean… no, thank you. I appreciate the concern, Honey, I really do, but the best way you can help me is to be safe.”

“That won’t make me feel any better,” Sweetie countered with a scowl.

“Me, either,” Coco added, though with less conviction.

“Well, you’re not the one being shot at, so you don’t get to make that call.” Oh, her foolish tongue! “I-I’m sorry, girls. I didn’t mean…”

“We know.” Coco’s voice was soft, but her expression grave. “You could do better.”

What was this criticizing tone? Did she think she had the right to—

A shadow passed over their heads. They looked up in unison to find Roan hovering a few feet above Dune, her talons twiddling and the feathers on her neck raised. “We’ve got a problem.”

Rarity wasted no time handing Sweetie off to Coco. “What kind of problem.” If she was lucky, it might be the kind through which she could vent some anger via well-placed bullets.

What is wrong with me?

Applejack pulled up alongside them on Moonshine, Winona’s forepaws on her back as the dog watched Roan with a concerned expression. “What did you see, Roan?” she asked, once again with that firm, businesslike tone.

“The Vermillion’s gone,” Roan answered, her eyes shifting towards the back of the wagon skittishly. “But now there’s a lot of ponies headed this way. I counted at least two dozen.”

“Son of a bitch.” Rarity turned to Applejack, ignoring how Coco slapped her hands over Sweetie’s ears. “Maybe it wasn’t the Vermillion after all.”

“It could just be a regular caravan.” Applejack’s tone and hard expression revealed her doubts. She looked to Roan. “Any wagons with them?”

The young griffon shook her head. “Just ponies on lizards. They weren’t going much faster than us, though. I think. A-and it looked like they were settling for a break, too.”

“It might be nothing, then,” Coco ventured.

“Or it might be Gang-hired guns hunting us down,” Rarity growled. “We have to assume the worst.”

“I’m with Rarity on that one. Winona, watch.” Applejack snapped her fingers, and Winona promptly settled off her master’s back, turned around, sat, and watched the western horizon. “I vote for no more breaks. We ride nonstop for as long as Dune can go, takin’ turns restin’ in the wagon. Me or Rarity stay on watch at all times.”

Sweetie groaned but made no further comment. Coco, on the other hand, had something to add. “Couldn’t we just move out of their way? We could go into the Dragon’s Teeth.”

Applejack shook her head. “We could, sure. Find a convenient place to hunker down and hope they pass us by. But if they don’t, we’re trapped with no escape and way outgunned.”

“I agree.” Roan flapped a little harder, ascending some and continuing to peer west. “The last thing we want is to be cornered and vulnerable, right?”

Rarity was tempted to note that she’d been in similar situations in the past. She shoved that moment of braggadocio down. It was one thing to be ambushed on her own amongst some abandoned wagons, it was quite another to fight with Coco, Sweetie, and Roan present.

“If we keep doing nothing but staying in front of them, won’t we end up getting forced into a firefight one way or another?” Coco wrung the reins in her hands as she fretted. “There’s got to be a better solution.”

Rarity understood her concern, but what ‘better solution’ was there? They still had a ways to go before the next pass through the mountains, and she wasn’t at all familiar with… the… territory?

“Keep going,” she instructed Coco, hopping off the wagon. “I need to get my map.” Not waiting for the wagon to pass by, she trotted for the back of it, where Ophelia was currently tied by a long rope to ensure she would follow. She smiled at the Dust Devil’s friendly trill, pausing just long enough to rub her hand along the creature’s snout. “Sorry, big girl, I’m here on business.”

That said, she retrieved her map from its place in the pack and opened it in her magic. A collection of black lines marked her path since she’d left Hoofington. It went north to Mooisville, then west to Bitter Ergot before doubling back somewhat to hit Ponyville. She traced the path with a finger, following its long south-by-west journey to where the Sunpeaks met the Dragon’s Teeth. From there it turned sharply east. Her finger moved past the last mark on the map, tapping on Rockstead.

Applejack came riding up, bringing Moonshine to walk at Rarity’s pace by her side. “You got an idea?”

“A moment, please.” Numbers and guesses ran through Rarity’s mind. If she accounted for them not taking anymore noontime breaks and riding all day and night, how much faster could they go? She’d had enough experience with navigation by now that she felt reasonably confident in her conclusion. Satisfied, she put the map away and went to untie Ophelia from the wagon.

Once properly on her steed, Rarity signaled for Applejack to follow and went back to the front of the wagon. “I have an idea.” The others watched her expectantly, and she had the odd feeling they’d all been counting on this. Was that a good thing? She couldn’t be sure. “We will need to stay ahead of them for now, but if we can keep going at Applejack’s suggested pace for at least a week, then we can get out of this alright.”

“A week?” Applejack tilted her hat back and scratched at her forehead in a thoughtful manner. “We’ll go right by Sun Lake. Hay, that practically puts us in Rockstead. You think we can hide there?”

“We’re not going to Rockstead.” Rarity frowned, wondering what Spike would think of this. Not that they had much choice at the moment. “There’s a cave system in the mountains. I’ve passed through it before, and there’s an entrance not far from the town. It’s large enough to fit the wagon, and it’s almost a certainty the Bad Apples won’t bother to investigate it.”

Applejack’s face lit up with a grin. “Hey, that’s perfect. They think we’re gonna be headed to town, so they’ll go right by and waste all their time. Once they think they’ve lost us, they’ll probably move on.”

“A cave?” Roan ended her examination of the horizon to frown at Rarity. “Are you sure it’s safe? You don’t grow up in a roost without hearing stories about griffons disappearing in a maze of tunnels.”

Coco looked from her to Rarity and back, a small frown marring her youthful features. “I’m more concerned about what happens if the Gang decides to follow us in there. Wouldn’t we be trapped?”

Rarity chuckled, drawing the attention of every pair of eyes. “Oh, rest assured, if they choose to enter this cave, they’ll find themselves facing far worse things than a couple gun-toting mares.”

The furrows on Applejack’s brow said she was a long way from comforted. “Well, that ain’t ominous at all.”

“Y-yeah.” Sweetie fiddled with the edge of her skirt, ears tucked down. “What’s to stop whatever you’re talking about from eating us?”

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. I know what I’m doing.” Rarity looked to Applejack, knowing she didn’t have to say anything for her query to be heard. The two stared at one another for several quiet seconds, Applejack’s eyes shifting slowly as she thought.

“Alright,” she said at last. “We’ll give it a shot. But that still puts us on the run for the next week, so everypony should stay alert.”

Satisfied with the given plan, Rarity nonetheless had to silently apologize to Spike for what would happen. Her thoughts drifted to her parents, who would probably be in Rockstead at this point. She’d momentarily neglected that fact. Would it be best to leave them be? Maud and Marble could undoubtedly hide them from the Gang once they knew they were in town.

But what if they couldn’t? A decision would need to be made; stay with Applejack and the others, or go to protect her parents. She should stay, it was the best route for everypony involved. But her heart cried out at the mere possibility that her parents could end up captured by the brutes.

There was nothing for it now, and no point dwelling on it. She would concentrate on getting Sweetie, Coco, and Roan out of danger. The question of her parents would have to be dealt with after.





As it turned out, Rarity’s hope for a week of undisturbed progress was premature. They only managed three days before the plan fell apart. Roan confirmed that they were getting ahead of their pursuers such that she could no longer see them from the air.

As with the other times, it was Roan who first noticed. Rarity was riding behind the wagon when she spotted the griffon diving. Recognizing the urgency of the act, she brought Ophelia into a trot and reached the front of the wagon just in time to hear its driver, Applejack, utter a curse. “What’s wrong?” she asked, keeping her voice low on account of Sweetie and Coco sleeping inside.

“Trouble,” Applejack answered, slowing the wagon to a stop. Roan was already flying back into the sky. “She says there’s a group of ponies ahead of us now.”

“Of course there is.” Rarity rubbed at her temple with a low groan. Though she didn’t dare to hope, she asked, “Is there any chance these ponies are just your typical traders passing by?”

“That’s why I sent Roan back up there.” With the wagon stopped, Applejack let the reins hang loose in her lap and sat back to stare at the sky, tipping her hat back. By now Roan was little more than a dot amongst the blue. “I told her to check for a few things.”

Rarity followed her gaze, chewing on her lip and rubbing the nub on Silver Lining’s handle. “If they are, do you think we should avoid them anyway?”

“Nope.” Applejack shook he head. “If it really is the Gang followin’ us then they almost surely know we’re here. I don’t think avoidin’ them’ll do us any good. At least if they’re traders we can feed them false information about what we’re up to.” She pushed her hat forward again and sat up straight. “Here she comes.”

Roan came in for a swooping landing, her forward momentum resuming in a trot until she stopped before them. She reached up to rub Dune’s broad side as she spoke. “They do have a wagon, Applejack. It looks like a really small group. I counted four ponies, all on lizards.”

Rarity and Applejack exchanged glances. From that alone, Rarity knew they’d come to the same conclusion. It couldn’t be the Gang, not with a wagon. That would only slow down a hunting party. Most likely traders, or maybe just a family moving to a new town.

“Okay, that ain’t so bad.” Applejack flicked Dune’s reins again, setting the wagon back into motion. “We’ll meet these ponies, give ‘em a tall tale about crossin’ the mountains or somethin’, then keep going. It probably won’t work, but it might delay them a little.”

Seeing no reason to disagree, Rarity rode on ahead to act as the front guard. If they were wrong about this little party, she wanted to be the one they pointed their guns at. As she passed by Roan, she said, “Please keep an eye on them. If things start to look suspicious, sound off.”

Roan nodded grimly and took off without a word. Rarity didn’t like using the child for things like this, but they needed every advantage they could get. At least she was out of harm’s way up there.

It was another couple hours before the wagon came into view. By that time Sweetie had woken and taken over driving the wagon, allowing Applejack to mount Moonshine and join Rarity in the front. Despite their reasonable expectations of a peaceful encounter, both undid the safety straps on their respective weapons as the wagon grew closer. It was a frightening thing, watching the wagon disappear behind one hill only to reappear so much closer atop it a few minutes later. Rarity half expected it to never show up after one of those little disappearing acts. Every time it returned to her field of view undeterred from its course, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

When they were close enough to make out the colors of the riders, one of them broke off from the group and rode ahead. Applejack and Rarity glanced at once another for all of a second before the latter urged Ophelia into a trot and moved on ahead. At their mutual paces, Rarity guessed they’d meet near the bottom of the next hill.

She was halfway down it when she realized she recognized the earth pony approaching her. Light red coat, two-toned orange and yellow mane with flecks of grey, and a rifle on his shoulder. Tiro Caliente. She might have laughed at the sheer coincidence of this meeting were she not fretting over who he might be with.

“Estaré condenado.” Tiro grinned as the two paused only a few feet from one another. “La Corazón Antibalas herself. It’s a pleasure to see you again, Señorita Belle.”

“Hola, Señor Caliente.” Seeing no reason to be unfriendly, Rarity returned the smile and gave a little wave for good measure. “It’s a curious coincidence, bumping into you out here.”

He shrugged. “These things happen more often than you’d think. But I am surprised to find you down here again. When we parted ways in Hoofington you seemed so very eager to get to Mooisville.”

“It’s a long story,” she grumbled. At his concerned look, she made an effort to put some cheer bac into her voice. “Would it be forward of me to ask who you are escorting?”

“Not at all.” He gestured with his thumb behind him just in time for the wagon he’d been with to appear at the top of the hill. “These gente desafortunada got some bad ponis chasing after them.” His eyes abruptly lit up, smile disappearing in a flash. “Mierda. You’re an enemy of the Bad Apples, sí?”

“Rarity!”

Her head jerked up at the familiar voice, only for her jaw to drop at the unexpected sight waving from the driver’s seat of the wagon. “Wha… Mother?”

“Rarity?” Her father appeared from behind the wagon riding a green Dust Devil, silly moustache and all. He let out a laugh and kicked his lizard into a gallop for her.

The little pony in Rarity’s head was leaping for joy, but other emotions tore at her, preventing her from accepting that simple reaction. Her parents were here. Why weren’t they in Rockstead? Tiro said they were in trouble with bad ponies? Oh, no… They were supposed to be safe with the Pies! How could this be happening?

Her father climbed off his lizard and hurried to her, grinning like a fool. She was still too stunned to move, except when he yanked her off Ophelia and into a bear hug that stole her breath. “P-Papa? What are you…?”

“You have no idea how worried we’ve been.” He pulled back just enough so that he could kiss her on the forehead, just under the horn, then held her head in his palms and studied her face. “You’re alright? Nopony hurt my little princess, did they?”

“Papa, please.” The fire in her face had nothing to do with the sun, but at least a grin had finally found its way onto her lips. She’d forgotten how much his moustache tickled when he kissed her like that. “You are embarrassing me in front of a respected colleague.”

“I appreciate that,” Tiro noted with a smirk.

Applejack’s voice broke through the embarrassment clouding her brain. “Well, this ain’t at all what I expected.” Rarity was sure she could feel the blood rushing from the rest of her body into her face. She turned around to find the leader of the Apple Family watching from astride Moonshine with a lopsided, uncertain smile. The way Winona practically mirrored her expression would have been adorable under any other circumstance.

“El Sol Santo!” Tiro whipped off his hat and gave Applejack a flamboyant bow from atop his lizard. “An honor to meet you, Señorita Apple! I did not think I’d live to see the day.”

Now it was Applejack who’s face started burning. “Uh… thanks?” She leaned forward, one hand on her hip as she took in the big stallion now standing firmly between her and Rarity. “So, I’m gonna go out on an apple limb and guess that you know these ponies.”

The wagon her mother drove came to a stop nearby and she climbed down, helped by an unfamiliar unicorn mare. At the same time, Sweetie brought their own wagon over the hill.

Rarity placed a hand on her father’s shoulder and stepped beside him. “Applejack? This is my father, Hondo Flanks. And that—” She stumbled forward as her mother caught her up in a hug from behind almost as strong as her father’s. “And this is my mother, Cookie Crumbles.”

Applejack’s eyes popped wide open and she hurriedly doffed her hat. “Oh! Uh, how’d ya do, folks? Applejack, pleased to meet ya.”

Tiro looked at the group with a bewildered expression. “So I’ve been escorting your parents. Huh, small world.”

Sweetie Belle chose that moment to shout her surprise and leap off the wagon, running at full speed downhill until she tackled her father in a flying hug. “Daddy!”

The remaining mare in her parents’ party rode up, confusion plastered across her lime-colored face. “What is zis, a family reunion?” She had a distinctly Prench accent.

“Uh… yes?” Rarity raised her head, scanning the sky until she spotted a dot, then flashed her horn. Seconds later, Roan came in for a landing a few yards away from the group. When the dust settled Rarity waved her over. “Come, Roan! I’d like you to meet my parents.”

Pleasantries and names were exchanged as Coco came out of the wagon to see what all the fuss was about. The mare’s name was, fittingly enough, Strawberry Lime, and her manner struck Rarity as far too high class to be out and about in a traveller’s dress with a six-shooter at her hip and dirt coating her pink mane. Surprisingly, she and Roan took to one another near-instantaneously; Roan had apparently developed a mild fascination with Prance from having been semi-raised by Octavia in the last few years.

But the friendly atmosphere faded quickly when Applejack asked the question that had been on Rarity’s mind from the beginning. “What are all of y’all doing out here? I thought we were supposed to meet y’all in Rockstead.”

“Aw, crud, that’s right!” Rarity’s father lost all his good cheer, his eyes darting east as if he expected something to appear over the hill at any moment. “Rarity, we’ve got Bad Apples after us.”

Rarity thought her heart had stopped. She merely stood there, staring at her parents as her lungs struggled to get air through her throat. At last she managed a feeble, “What?”

“Sí.” Tiro shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and nodded grimly. “We’ve got a two day lead on them, but they’re coming.”

“Last time I checked, zey ‘ad nearly zree dozen ‘eads,” Strawberry added, worry creasing her elegant features. “If zey catch us, we’re as good as doomed.”

Coco pressed a hand to her forehead and groaned. “You can’t be serious…”

“Luna damn it all to Tartarus!” Rarity kicked a large rock, sending it flying uphill. “What does a mare have to do to protect her family? You were supposed to be safe in Rockstead!”

Her family stared at her as if she’d grown a second head, but Coco had the presence of mind to speak up, her voice soothing. “It’s alright, Rarity. We’ll think of something.”

“I ‘ate to interrupt,” Strawberry said, “but we should get going. Ze longer we linger, ze sooner zose bounty ‘unters will be on us.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Roan said with grim certainty. “We’ve been running from our own gang of Bad Apples in the south. Two days lead, like you.”

Silence filled the hot, dry air. Every pony and griffon exchanged horror-filled looks. After what seemed like an ageless eternity, Sweetie muttered, “Y-you mean we’re trapped?”

“Mierda.” Tiro doffed his hat and held it to his chest. “Did they plan this?”

Applejack glowered at her boots, her face an ugly mask of frustration. “I dunno if they’re smart enough for that. May be a coincidence. That or they’re so pissed off about Rarity freein’ them hostages they’ve decided to go all out on endin’ her and anypony who knows her.” She turned her hard eyes to Rarity. “Ain’t no way we’re reachin’ your cave now.”

No. No, there wasn’t. They were effectively trapped. And when the two groups met, they’d know it. Hiding in the mountains would only buy them time before the inevitable final fight. Rarity was used to being outnumbered, but this was not a battle she wanted to engage in. There were too many lives at stake.

“We could find a defensive position,” her mother suggested. “Maybe there’s a good place where we can limit how they come at us.”

“Or m-maybe we could come to some kind of bargain?” her father ventured timidly.

Applejack groaned. “Yeah, sure. How’d that work out for you last time?”

“Excuse me, miss, but I don’t hear you coming up with any reliable options! And how do you know my daughter anyway? Applejack. How do I know you’re not some—”

“Stop it, Daddy.” Sweetie Belle’s voice was firm. “Applejack’s the best, and she’s totally on our side.”

“Maybe we could enter the desert?” Strawberry asked.

“We’d die of starvation instead of bullets,” Applejack replied. “At least bullets have the possibility of being quick.”

The desert. Rarity turned north, away from the others. Her thoughts drifted to a faraway place. It seemed like forever since she’d last been there. But if she could go back… The question was, could she? She hurried to Ophelia, jerking the map out in her magic.

“Rarity?” Applejack was at her side. “What are you thinkin’?”

Rather than answer, Rarity ran her finger in a small circle she’d drawn in the Great Salt Plains some months ago. She’d run the numbers several times since then, using her memories as best she could. If she had everything right – and she was nearly certain she had – then it might be possible. Pulling out a pencil from the saddlebags and her old, nearly used up notebook, she began scribbling some quick calculations.

She spoke without looking up. “Mother, Papa? How much food do you have with you right now?”

It was her father who answered. “Uh, enough to last us four weeks?”

Four weeks. And their own collection had two weeks’ worth left. That assumed decent, hearty meals. If they rationed it, they could stretch it out to three times that number. They wouldn’t be leaving the Dragon’s Teeth from the same location as before, but… she could do this.

I can do this!

“New plan.” She turned around, ready to make her announcement, only to pause upon finding every pair of eyes set upon her. Not a soul spoke, every one of them awaiting her word. Had they been like that the entire time?

She was taking the leadership role again. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she swallowed it regardless. This was no time for worrying and frustrations. They needed to do something, and they needed to do it now.

“I know this is going to sound insane,” she admitted, keeping her voice firm. “But I also know this can be done. I’ve done it before. We’re leaving the Dragon’s Teeth behind.”

The others shared uncertain looks. It was Coco who raised her hand to speak. “How? We’re trapped, Rarity. We can’t cross the mountains here, and the east and west are blocked.”

“But the north is wide open.” Rarity couldn’t resist a little smile at their incredulous faces. “I know a place out there that will guarantee our survival. We leave immediately, go north. The Gang wouldn’t dare follow us.”

“Because it’s a deathtrap.” Her father shook his head. “Honey, you can’t be serious.”

“I know how you feel. I felt the same way the first time I tried it.” Rarity pointed to her map. “But I can do this. Trust me, please. It’s the only way we’re getting out of this.”

Once more, silence took over the conversation. Rarity let her eyes linger on each face, especially her parents’. Her heart pounded as she watched doubt and uncertainty flickering over their collective features. They didn’t have any time to argue this, but if she had to…

“Alright, I’m in.”

Her head whipped around to Applejack, surprise mingling with her relief. “You are?”

Applejack nodded, arms crossed and a reassuring smile on her lips. “Yeah, I am. I’ve been around you enough to know you wouldn’t make a claim this crazy without havin’ somethin’ to back it up. If the Bulletproof Heart says we can do this, then we can do this.”

Rarity almost flinched. Why did she have to go and bring the Bulletproof Heart into this?

“We don’t have any better ideas,” her father admitted, though he seemed far from convinced.

Strawberry pointed at Rarity, entire body having gone limp otherwise. “You’re ze Bulletproof ‘eart?”

This time, Rarity really did flinch. “Um… yes?”

The mare clapped her hands once and gained a pleased, almost wry smile. “Oh, I am not missing zis. I’m in!”

Within seconds, everyone was in agreement. They chose to put their trust in Rarity’s word, and she could not have been more grateful. Within minutes they’d gotten into a simple formation with Rarity’s wagon in the lead and were headed north.

For the first time in a while, Rarity was glad ponies looked up to her.





It was supposed to be Rarity’s turn to sleep. Supposed to be. Instead she stared at the top of the wagon, hands behind her head while her mother and Coco slumbered closer to the front. After five days of travel, she was reasonably sure they’d lost the Apples. That didn’t comfort her at all.

Her family was supposed to be in Rockstead, resting after their long journeys. Rarity was meant to be preparing herself for the troublesome task of introducing them to Spike. Maybe there would be an argument over living arrangements. Perhaps her parents would want to stay in Rockstead. Sweetie and Coco would be fascinated by the fact Rarity knew a dragon. All the while, Rarity would be counting the days before she departed once more, an eternal distraction to keep the Bad Apples from ever going after her family again.

But no. They were here, crossing the Great Salt Plains. She supposed it didn’t matter how they avoided the Gang in the long run, but damn it all, her plan was in ruins! How long were they supposed to wait in Elysium before risking a return? And they would return. Rarity hadn’t made herself stay with Fluttershy, so why should she expect the same of her family? The little pony in her head promptly asked the same question regarding staying with Spike. That only made her already simmering anger burn hotter.

What would it take to get the Gang to leave them alone? She couldn’t believe they would send five dozen ponies after her. And when she lost these ruffians, would they send twice again as many at the next opportunity? This constant escalation needed to end. But the hot-headed fools refused to accept anything other than her head on a stick! True, she’d killed a lot of their number, but that wouldn’t have been necessary if they hadn’t come for her in the first place.

Her burning thoughts drifted once more to Braeburn. That wretched pervert of a pony. Why couldn’t he have chased after some willing floozy for his night of fun? The only thing more frustrating than the memory of his dirty hands on her was the understanding that, if she had to relive that night again, the only difference would be that she’d not have wasted time with diplomacy. And that burned. No matter what, she would have ended up here.

Raising her hand over her head, she studied the moon-and-sun sigil on her wristband. It feels more and more like I was destined for this life. Is this your doing, Sisters? I hope you two have a reason for fucking up my life. She realized her lips were pulled back in a snarl. Shaking her head, she forced her expression to a neutral one and took a few slow, calming breaths. No, I shouldn’t be critical. I’ve lost some friends, but the most important ponies in my life are still alive and well. I should be grateful for that.

The thoughts did little to kill her ire. Whispering a quiet apology to Marble for the blasphemous direction she’d taken her anger, she rolled over to look out the back of the ever-moving wagon. She was only mildly surprised to find her father looking inside from the back of his sand lizard. Realizing he’d been spotted, he gave her a wan smile and pulled back.

Worried about her, of course. He’d always been a softie. And for once that gentle nature of his was desired, so she carefully got up and crawled for the back of the wagon. Swinging her legs out, she settled on the edge and gestured for him to come closer.

“You should be sleeping.” He moved alongside the wagon such that he was only a foot or two away on her left.

“Too much on my mind.” Too much to be upset with. “How are the others?”

“Don’t worry about them. You just worry about yourself.” He glanced towards the front of the wagon for a moment. “You want to talk about what’s keeping you awake?”

Did she? Rarity wasn’t sure anymore. After all the effort Coco had put into getting her to vent, doing it with her father now seemed like a betrayal. A minor one that Coco would be relieved for, but the point remained. How would he take it, knowing that she was just as angry now as she’d been when they’d separated in Mooisville? The only real difference was that she’d gotten better at not lashing out.

“Rarity?”

She met his concerned gaze and felt a fresh wave of guilt for worrying him. And she’d keep worrying him, day in and day out, possibly for the rest of his life. She’d really made a mess of things, hadn’t she? Yet for all the things she might wish to apologize for, the thing that came out of her mouth unbidden seemed the most important. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye.”

His eyebrows rose a fraction, highlighting the pain that flashed across his face. He looked away, struggling to avoid a frown and failing. “It’s… okay. I admit I was upset, but you had a job to do.”

“I wanted to wake you,” she admitted, clasping her hands together and staring at the darkness. “I really did. I was afraid you’d try to keep me around for as long as possible, and I was in a hurry.”

“You’re right, I would have.” He sighed and slouched. “I’m selfish like that. It was probably for the best you ran off to be a hero.”

With a low moan, she covered her eyes. “Please, Papa, don’t call me that.”

Things were quiet for a while. Weariness tugged on Rarity’s eyelids, but her mind remained alert and probing. She kept scanning the southern dunes, just knowing that some threat would arise before they reached their destination. It was better to fret over that than linger on her ever present-frustrations, frustrations that her father had inadvertently reminded her of.

“Coco told me what you did in Ponyville.”

She turned her eyes to him, but he was staring ahead, expression unreadable. She’d not said a word to them about her ‘adventures’, fearing such stories would only make them worry more.

“Roan told me her piece too, and Sweetie really admires you.”

Oh, no. It had begun. She needed to stop it as quickly as possible. “I’m not all that great. I promise you, they’re exaggerating.”

“I doubt it.” He gained the tiniest of smiles. “My daughter, rescuing hostages. Seems like only yesterday you were a bumbling teenager and I was fretting over the possibility of saving you from handsy studs with their brains between their legs.”

She smiled a little at that. Should she bother to inform him that the pony who finally got that far was in their little group? That there’d yet to be a confrontation was all the evidence she needed that none of the others had mentioned what had happened between her and Applejack. The mare herself seemed positively skittish around Rarity’s parents. Who could blame her? At least she treated them respectfully, even if it was probably just an effort to endear herself to them before the artillery landed.

“You got your mother’s tenacity.” His smile faded once more, the concern returning to his eyes as he looked to her. “She was always willing to be the tough one. I’m just a big ball of fluff. Can’t stand the idea of hurting somepony. You… got that from me, didn’t you?”

Ears perking at his miserable voice, she looked up at him, but he avoided her eyes. “Papa?”

“It’s my fault,” he muttered. “Maybe if you’d taken more after your mother, you wouldn’t be so hurt by all this. You could do what needs to be done and not feel like shit for it. I—”

“Papa.” She leaned towards him, one hand on the side of the wagon for balance. “This is not your fault. I… I’m glad you raised me to be a decent pony.”

“Are you?” He shook his head. “I’m being silly, I know. It’s a father’s prerogative to worry about this kind of thing. Your achievements are astounding, Rarity, and I can’t tell you how proud they make me, but then I see you fuming when you think nopony’s looking and I just… I just wonder if I couldn’t have done something different.”

“Stop it, please.” She stood and tilted over the side of the wagon to get closer. It was a dangerous motion, but that was the point. Just as she expected, he finally met her gaze, reaching out as if to catch her mid-fall.

And she let him, releasing the wagon and falling into his grasp. He grunted, cursed under his breath, and lifted her up with apparent ease to set her side-saddle on the lizard in front of him. After a quick, relieved exhale, he growled, “Are you nuts? What if I didn’t catch you?”

She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and tucked her head against his neck with a grin, foalhood memories reminding her just how to do so without poking him with her horn. “My Papa would never let me come to harm.” And she would have landed on her hooves anyway. “And now I’m going to snuggle you until you stop worrying about silly things. My problems have nothing whatsoever to do with you. You and Mother raised me perfectly. I’m the one who got all bratty and decided to leave a few years before I was ready.”

He grumbled, one arm supporting her back while his free hand held the reins. “I think you inherited that from your mother.”

She grinned, delighting in the feeling of being his ‘princess’ again, if only for a moment. “You mean the bratty part? I know.”

He was quiet for a moment, but then a little wit entered his voice. “You’re a devilish little thing, abusing snuggles like this.”

“You know you love me.” She ran her finger in circles against the top of his belly, just like she used to do.

At last, he gave a chuckle. “Yeah, I do.”

Things went quiet again. Rarity took pleasure in his simple presence. How many years had it been since she’d come to him for a little comfort, letting him hold her in his big arms? If she didn’t think too hard about anything else, she could almost imagine she was a child being protected by her doting Papa. What she wouldn’t give to go back to those days. Before the bullets and the death and guilt. Before Ponyville and Bitter Ergot. Before having to hide in her own hometown. Before Hoofington and the Great Salt Plains and Cayenne.

Before Braeburn.

“I don’t want to spoil the mood,” her father whispered, so quiet she barely heard him. “But I’ve got to say it. I’m very proud of the mare you’ve become. No matter what happens, don’t you ever forget that. Okay, honey?”

Her heart swelled even as she wondered: should he be proud?

No. She wasn’t going to spoil this perfect moment. They were too rare. “I won’t, Papa.”

“Good.” He gave her a prolonged kiss on the forehead, making sure to wiggle his moustache to make her giggle. “That’s what I like to hear, my spoiled rotten, bratty princess.”

She could only grin and wiggle a little deeper into his comfortable embrace.

“Flatterer.”





Rarity was secretly amazed by the patience of her travelling companions. Here they were, three weeks into their journey to Elysium, and the most doubt she’d heard came in whispers quickly waved off by the very ones doing the whispering. She would have expected some of them to be borderline mutinous by now. Then again, they had enough food to go another week without having to turn back, and water was no issue thanks to Applejack’s bottomless flask.

She didn’t dare let on that she was starting to worry. They should have reached Elysium two days ago. Revising her estimates slightly gave a bit more wiggle room, but three weeks of journey with nothing but the stars for guidance left a lot of room for equine error. Applejack, Roan, Coco, and Sweetie vouched for her navigation skills, which she was admittedly proud of, so the last thing she wanted to do was admit she might have made a mistake.

They were in no danger. If food became a problem, all they had to do was turn south again. But still, Elysium Oasis was out here. She knew it was. They were in the right area. They just… had to do some searching.

“Bit for your thoughts?”

Rarity blushed at her little jump, turning to find her mother riding the Dust Devil she and her father traded between one another. “You shouldn’t sneak up on ponies with guns, y’know.”

“It’s a hard habit to break.” Her mother grinned, but only for a second. “You’ve been awfully quiet lately.”

“Just trying to get my numbers right in my head.” It was a half-admission, true enough that it may avoid suspicion.

Her mother hummed lightly, her eyes drifting across the northern dunes of sand and salt. “I’ve got to say, Rarity, if you can pull this off I will be thoroughly impressed by your navigation skills. You said you were taught by an adventurer?”

“Archeologist,” Rarity corrected, following her mother’s gaze. A little smile found its way onto her lips as she thought of A.K. Yearling and all the time they’d spent together. “Coincidentally, it was out here that she taught me, looking for the very same place.”

“I’m guessing you two found it, if you claim to know the way.”

The smile faded as easily as it had formed, and Rarity lowered her head. “I did. She did not. I never got the chance to tell her that I’d found what we were looking for by accident.”

“Elysium Oasis.” Her mother said the name as if it might magically bring their destination to them. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t think it existed.”

“It does.” That came out more forcefully than she’d intended. “It does. Just a little farther and you’ll see.”

“I’m not doubting you. I just…” Her mother glanced back, and Rarity did the same. They were far enough ahead of the others that they wouldn’t be overheard. Turning forward again, her mother said, “You’re having trouble, aren’t you?”

Rarity pursed her lips. She should have known better than to think her mother wouldn’t figure it out. No point in hiding it now. “We are certainly in the right area, but I’m going by memory alone. I could be off by a few miles and would have no way of knowing.”

“I see. And do you have a plan in the meantime?”

“There’s not much to plan.” She hated saying it, but it was true. “We go until we reach the edge of my established range, then if we’ve got time go back in a slightly altered course. If food gets too low we’ll return to the Teeth.”

Her mother studied her, expression as calm and thoughtful as ever. “But you really want to find it. It’s okay if you fail at this, Rarity. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Rarity growled. “By the time we get back, the Gang should be long gone and we can go on doing what we originally planned. It’s no loss for us, really.”

“If you know all of that, then why are you so upset?”

“Because—!” Rarity forced her mouth closed and sucked in a long, long breath. If her mother was offended by the aggressive tone, she showed no sign of it.

Once her anger had settle to a mere simmer, Rarity dared try again. “Because I left… somepony important there. I swore to come back, and this is my chance to finally keep that promise. If I fail to find the Oasis, I feel like I’ll have failed my friend.”

Ears perked, her mother asked, “So there’s already somepony living there?”

Rarity glanced at her. “I’m having trouble understanding why you aren’t upset. All of you. I can understand Sweetie and Coco following me out here. Even Applejack. But I would have thought Tiro and Strawberry would have rather faced the Gang than trust me to lead them to some fantasy oasis. And you and Papa? I can’t believe you just… accepted it.”

“Ah, she finally asks.” Her mother chuckled and shook her head. “We were starting to wonder, your father and I.” She let Rarity’s querying stare linger for a few seconds, though whether it was to test her patience or to gather her thoughts Rarity couldn’t tell. “When outlaws attacked our home, you took care of them without a moment of hesitation. And then we were forced to trust you to save Sweetie and Coco.”

She smiled warmly at Rarity. “And you did so much more. Saving all those hostages was an incredible thing. And to top it all off, you got yourself, your sister, and Coco out safe and sound.”

“Not entirely,” Rarity groused, turning her eyes north. “Or did Coco neglect to mention how she had to undergo surgery?”

“She even showed me the scar.” Moving a little closer, her mother reached out to touch her shoulder. Her words became soft and comforting. “The point is, you’ve already done so much, whereas your father and I have done so little. You had our love, but now you have our respect. So if you tell us our best bet is to go out into this boiling sauna, we trust you enough to believe it.”

Rarity mulled over those words, wondering if her parents had decided to tag team trying to make her feel good. Not that it wasn’t working, and not that she had anything against their encouragement. It actually made her heart all toasty and pleasant. Still, they were her parents. She expected them to be supportive, because they always had been.

Oh, she was waiting for some kind of response, wasn’t she? Rarity gave her mother’s hand a light squeeze before gently prodding her away. “I appreciate that. I really do. But that still doesn’t explain Tiro and Strawberry.”

“Ah, right.” Her mother’s tone suggested she’d forgotten they were even subjects in the conversation. “Well, from what he’s told me, Tiro fought alongside you against some bandits?” She glanced at Rarity in search of confirmation. At a nod, she continued, “It seems you left quite the impression on him. He also greatly respects Applejack, so if she’s willing to follow you out here then so is he.

“As for Strawberry…” She smirked with an exasperated shake of her head. “She’s still very new to roughing it. Only a season out, or so she told me. A little too trusting, that one.”

Wonderful, they’d been saddled with a greenhorn. Rarity suppressed a groan and glanced back at the wagons. They were still well ahead of the others, and Strawberry was nowhere to be seen. Was it her turn to rest in the wagons? “Please tell me the Bulletproof Heart isn’t her inspiration for being out here in the first place.”

Her mother shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Didn’t ask. Has she been fawning on you?”

“No. Come to think of it, I think she’s been avoiding me.” She took a drink from her canteen as she considered what little interaction she’d had with the young mare. “I don’t sense any dislike from her. She does stare at me a bit more than is comfortable though.”

“Maybe she’s starstruck.” The fact her mother stated that in a perfectly serious tone made Rarity’s stomach churn. “You know, finally meets her idol and doesn’t know what to do or say.”

“Night Mother preserve us.” Rarity lowered her hat to hide the fire in her eyes, something she’d picked up from Applejack in recent weeks. “And if she dies, it’s on me.”

She waited for her mother’s reprimand. And waited. Was she just thinking about how to deliver it? Or perhaps she just wanted Rarity to look at her first. Well, she’d not give her what she wanted. “Nothing to say?”

Her mother’s response was as quiet as it was lecturing. “I’m not about to start a circular argument with you.”

Rarity looked up before she could stop herself. “Circular argument?”

With lowered ears and weary eyes, her mother nodded. “Coco told me about your mood swings. Your father and Sweetie, too. I know all about how you feel the need to put yourself down and blame yourself for all the things that go wrong around you. I swear, you’re just like your father.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “There’s nothing I can say or do that will change how you feel. I wish there was, but I know better.”

Rarity studied her mother, but couldn’t read anything in her expression save somber acceptance. She turned forward, mulling over this wholly unexpected response. Did this mean her mother considered her a lost cause? An appropriate conclusion, to be sure. Her mother had always been the practical type, and this saved them both a lot of time and pressure. Well, it saved her mother a lot of pressure. Rarity doubted she’d ever get out from under her troubles. Troubles of her own making. Troubles that would only grow as she continued this horrid lifestyle. The sooner she got her family out of the disaster area that was her existence—

“You’re brooding.”

She bit back the first retort that came to mind. Her mother had already given something of a peace offering by refusing to bother her about it. She wouldn’t ruin that by succumbing to her temper. Rubbing her necklace, she gave herself a moment to clear her head of negative thoughts before responding. “Sometimes I think I’m getting better at hiding it, but then ponies point out how wrong I am.”

Her mother made something between a grunt and a hum, making no effort to hide her own frustration. It must have been torture, acknowledging that nothing could be done but wanting to say something anyway. Rarity cast her a worried look. “Are you sure you don’t want to lecture me or anything? As my mother, you’re more than entitled to do so.”

The elder mare shuddered. “Tempt me not, foul creature, lest I succumb to less dignified ways.” Her smile was bitter. “You are your own mare. If you’re going to crawl out of this rut, it’ll only be because you made the decision on your own. Besides,” she added with another roll of her eyes, “I have a hard enough time keeping your father in the sunshine. I doubt I could handle you both.”

With a weak laugh, Rarity replied, “I didn’t think there was anything you couldn’t handle.”

“Alas, my daughter has discovered I am not perfect.” With a more genuine smile, her mother set the back of her hand to her forehead and leaned back in a pose of mock distress. “Your image of me is ruined! Now you’ll become a problem child and date the most indecent of ruffians as a means of rebellion.”

Now it was Rarity’s turn to roll her eyes. “I think I’m well past that stage. You can’t tell me you’re sorry to have missed it.”

“It seems you’ve forgotten how you acted back when you decided to leave Mooisville.” Ignoring Rarity’s wince, her mother tapped her chin and looked up at the sky. “Then again, you are with Applejack.”

“Mother!” Rarity twisted about to check behind them so fast she nearly fell off Ophelia. “Please, mind your tongue! I am not with Applejack.”

“Oh? She’s clearly with you.”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Her mother smirked, the corner of her lip pulling back just slightly to give her that extra devilish look. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you when she thinks I’m not paying attention. Or you, for that matter.”

Rarity’s cheeks lit on fire as she imagined Applejack staring at her backside. Her thighs began that familiar, loathsome tingling. “Y-you mean she’s been ogling me?”

“Hmm… Not ogling, no. It’s far more subtle than that.” She shrugged, all teasing gone from her now-ponderous expression. “I’d say it’s more of a hopeful look.”

“She can hope all she wants,” Rarity growled, Ophelia’s reins squeaking under her iron grip. “That caravan left a long time ago.”

Her mother shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. It’s… I don’t want to say ‘innocent.’ ‘Devoted’ would be more appropriate.”

Devoted? Applejack? In hindsight, Rarity could see the Apple as a highly dependable pony to have around. Still, what had Rarity ever done to warrant that kind of attention? Her mother made it sound like something other than physical attraction, and Applejack had certainly suggested such a thing. Yet that was exactly why it mystified Rarity so much. She hadn’t done anything to gain Applejack’s devotion! It all seemed so silly and childish.

Maybe the two of them were due for another serious conversation.

“I found it!”

They looked up in unison in time to see Roan swoop overhead, only quick magical reflexes keeping Rarity from losing her hat in the ensuing wind. Circling around, the young griffon came to a hover just ahead of them, doing a little jig in midair and grinning far more widely than one would think a beak would permit. As her feline hind legs kicked about she sing-songed, “I found it, I found it, I found it!”

All thoughts of Applejack disappeared. Rarity felt her lips part in an almost painful grin. “You saw the oasis? Where?”

“Yes, I found it and it’s right there and it looks amazing!” Roan paused her little routine just long enough to point. “It’s east. If we turn now we can get there by morning. Oh, Rarity, I promise I’ll never doubt you again!”

Choosing not to dwell on Roan’s offhand confession, Rarity wheeled Ophelia back towards the wagons. “Wonderful! You’re amazing, Roan. Come on, let’s tell everypony the good news!” Just the thought of seeing Fluttershy’s smiling face again had her giggling. At last, she’d be able to keep her promise!





Elysium Oasis was every bit as luscious and lovely as Rarity remembered. Even if it was her second time seeing it, she couldn’t help but be awed at the sheer improbability of its existence. As the wagons slowly approached under the red morning sun, she had the delightful pleasure of witnessing the reactions of everyone else in her little caravan.

Applejack rode at her side opposite Tiro. “I gotta admit, Rarity, for a while there I thought you had us chasin’ a fantasy. I can’t believe y’all actually found this place on your own.”

Stumbled onto it near death would be more apt, but Rarity figured it would be more entertaining to bask in the praise than ruin it with petty facts. She hadn’t stopped grinning since she’d woken that morning and spotted the haze of green in the distance.

“Elysium Oasis.” Tiro uttered the name with no small amount of awe in his voice. “We’re looking at a living legend. If mi padre could see this…”

Rarity entertained the same thought in regards to A.K. Yearling, only with a little guilt thrown in. If she ever got the chance, she would make sure to show her this place. Right after apologizing for getting there first, of course. That would probably sting the archeologist’s pride a bit.

“She saves ‘ostages, fights bandits, and survives ambushes. And now we find out she also finds myzological places.” Somewhere behind them, Strawberry laughed. “Is zere anyzing ze Bulletproof ‘eart can’t do?”

That came close to slapping down Rarity’s smile, but she held onto it with a vengeance. Nothing, not even the Bulletproof Heart, would interfere with this moment of triumph.

“It’s so pretty.” Coming from her spot driving the first wagon, Coco’s words were a whisper that Rarity almost didn’t catch. “How did something so amazing grow way out here?”

“Do you think it’s magic?” Sweetie asked with quiet enthusiasm.

Turning in her saddle, Rarity sent her grin to Coco and Sweetie, then further back to her parents driving the other wagon. Her mother flashed a thumbs up while her father waved, both of them wearing proud smiles.

For the first time since this Bulletproof Heart nonsense had begun, Rarity felt as though she’d achieved something wholly good. Her family and friends were safe. They could all relax for a few weeks to wait out the Bad Apples. She’d keep her promise to Fluttershy and help her make some more friends. And best of all, not a single person would be hurt because of it! If that wasn’t a resounding success, Rarity didn’t know what was.

Applejack looked to her with a pleased, warm expression. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy, Sugarcube.”

“I finally have a reason to be happy,” she confessed as their lizards took their first steps onto the crisp grass. She wasted no time dismounting and bending down to feel the cool blades with her hand. Spending so much time without this green carpet gave one a distinct appreciation for it. “And this time I have the route marked out and the coordinates settled, so I can come back whenever I want.” It was enough to make her giddy.

Roan hovered, her unclad, paw-like feet touching the grass for the first time. She shivered, hesitated, then completed her landing. With wide eyes, she bent down to run her taloned hands along the verdant ground. “It’s… It’s so soft. I heard stories, but I never imagined.” She dropped to her knees and pressed her cheek against the grass, grinning. “Oh, I love it!”

Everyone was on their hooves now, exploring the immediate area and enjoying the shade of the loose canopy. Applejack and Coco were running their hands along the bark of a massive tree, both with expressions of wide-eyed wonder. “I never knew a tree could get so big,” Applejack muttered. Sweetie ran about the area, Winona yipping at her heels as she went from sight to sight, smelling flowers and rolling in the grass.

Ophelia bumped Rarity’s shoulder, and she happily indulged the lizard by wrapping an arm around its neck and scratching under its frills. While Ophelia merrily trilled, her father clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Gotta hand it to you, Honey, this is something else.”

“I think I might prefer to stay here,” her mother said, nestled happily under his arm. “This place is simply divine.”

“No podría haberlo dicho mejor.” Tiro stepped up on Ophelia’s opposite side, hands on his hips as he watched Sweetie and Winona play. “It’s pretty enough to be an Elysium, for sure.”

“Look, look!” Strawberry all but danced up to them, her cupped hands loaded with fruit. “Blueberries! Actual, ‘onest-to-Celestia blueberries! Do you zink zis place ‘as strawberries? Oh, I ‘ope it ‘as strawberries!” She levitated a few berries into her mouth and moaned. “Ooooh, Shshtrs, sho gud.”

They all shared a laugh and enjoyed some berries, and before long Roan took to the air above the canopy to get a better look at the landscape. While the others chatted amongst themselves about the wonderful place she’d led them to, Rarity noticed that they were no longer alone. They came one at a time, the quadrupedal deer-like creatures with their curly antlers and inquisitive eyes. What had Fluttershy called them? Yes… The oryx. And there was another name for them, though that one eluded her recollection at the moment.

She’d never seen more than two or three together at once before, but now there was over a half-dozen at the edge of the clearing. More were arriving by the minute, their brown bodies not quite hidden in the shadows of the foliage. They watched the ponies, heads moving in a unison that couldn’t be coincidental. This wasn’t like what she remembered, and it was starting to sound alarm bells in her head.

“Look at all of zem.” That came from Strawberry, abruptly calling everyone’s attention to their audience. By now there had to be almost two dozen oryx.

Sweetie sidled up to Rarity. “Uh, Sis? What are they?” The oryx all looked at her at once, their motions almost mechanical, and Sweetie promptly hid behind Rarity.

“It’s alright, Sweetie Belle.” Rarity took her sibling’s hand and gave it a squeeze, but didn’t look away from the creatures. “They won’t harm you.” I hope. What was with this cold reception? Were they somehow more intelligent than she’d been led to believe?

The rustling of leaves drew her eyes upwards to find a familiar rifle aimed at her head. Her heart leapt in her throat and she opened her mouth to call out, but the gun moved away before she could find the air. Fluttershy gaped at her, wings spread to provide her balance atop the tree limb. “Rarity?”

“Fluttershy, Darling!” All fear disappeared. Rarity waved enthusiastically. “It is so good to see you.”

“You came back.” Standing tall, rifle pointed down and away from everybody, Fluttershy seemed at a loss. She studied Rarity with slightly parted lips, looking for all the world like she was seeing a mirage. “You… you actually came back.”

“Of course I did. I made a promise, after all.” Stepping closer to the tree, Rarity gestured invitingly. “Won’t you come down?”

A smile threatened to break out on the young mare’s face, but then her eyes darted behind Rarity and it was gone. Her shoulders tensed, fingers tightening about the Cardinal, and her face grew severe. “You brought others.”

Glancing back, Rarity gestured for everyone to keep quiet. A good thing, because she could see the questions dancing on their collective faces. Refocusing on Fluttershy, Rarity spread her arms slightly in hopes that it would appear unthreatening. “Yes. I am sorry, but it was either this or abandon them to death. And since half of them are my family, I wasn’t about to do that.”

At the word ‘family’ Fluttershy’s eyes snapped back to Rarity’s. Lips pursed, said nothing for some time. “Family?”

“Indeed.” Slowly, Rarity turned and gestured to her sister, who was the closest. Sweetie approached timidly, but didn't back down when Rarity took her hand and brought her forward. “This is my sister, Sweetie. My parents, Cookie and Hondo, are with us as well, and Coco is a dear friend. The others are here by… circumstance.” Applejack’s grunt might have been a sign of disappointment or frustration, she couldn’t tell. Rarity wasn’t about to correct the record, but only because she didn’t want to risk confusing an armed Fluttershy with a small army of animals behind her. She’d apologize to Applejack later for the neglect.

Once more, Fluttershy maintained a heavy silence as she surveyed the visitors arrayed below her. There was a hard edge to her eyes that matched her grim frown well. “This is not what I had in mind when I said you could visit.”

“I know. But please, Fluttershy. I had no choice. The only other option was to leave them to die.”

Fluttershy stared at her. It was not a glare, but nor was there any sign of acceptance. Her massive wings flapped lightly, stirring the leaves around her. After a time, she looked to the nearest of the oryx. The oryx looked back, expressionless and otherwise still.

Then, there came a voice like a wave of wind through the forest, childlike but firm. “Invader.”

A chill ran down Rarity’s back as she and the others looked around at the tall trees. That was certainly new! Her companions turned to her for guidance, worry plain on their faces, but she had no idea what to tell them. Her eyes went back to Fluttershy.

The rifle rose halfway, Fluttershy’s lips peeling back in a grimace as she examined her visitors once more. “Which one?” The question was little more than a growl.

Slowly, in unison, the oryx raised their heads to stare at the canopy. “Above.”

As if on cue, something burst through the treetops to land hard on the ground, orange wings spread wide amidst a billowing black coat. Everypony jumped back in unison, and Rarity already had Silver Lining out of its holster, but the newcomer didn’t attack. Only when her heart settled did she notice that the pegasus had brought with her a victim: Roan lay on the ground before the pony’s boots, unmoving.

From above Roan, the Flaming Vermillion stood up straight. Taking a moment only to sip from a canteen hidden beneath her coat, she folded her wings and grinned.

“Hello again, Bulletproof.”
> Episode 26: The Flaming Vermilion
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


84th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


“Roan!”

Rarity caught Sweetie by the back of her dress’s collar just as she started running. “Somepony take her!”

“No, let me go!” Sweetie struggled and kicked, but was nonetheless picked up and carried out of the way by her father. “Roan! What did you do to my friend?”

“Calm down, Sweetie,” Rarity growled. “She’s alive.” That much she ascertained from the rise of Roan’s backside as she breathed. Whether she was well or not was a different matter entirely. Rarity locked eyes with Stormy Flare, but kept Silver Lining aimed low. “How did you get out here without us noticing?”

The Vermilion grinned and set her boot atop Roan’s back. “This pet catbird of yours? Rank amateur. You’d have been less obvious at a distance if you’d used that horn to shoot a flare. Hiding from her was as simple as breathing.”

Rarity resisted the urge to groan. She should have known a griffon in captivity for years and rarely allowed to even hover would lack the requisite skills of scouting and reconnaissance. A foolish blunder, but she’d linger on it later. “What did you do to her?”

With a grin both playful and wicked, the Vermilion shook her head. “You’ve got far more important things to deal with. Like, say, the small army of bounty hunters and Gang members that’ll be here within the next hour.”

“What?” Fluttershy’s wings flared and her rifle came up, though it wasn’t aimed at anypony in particular. Her eyes, suddenly like steel, settled upon Rarity. “I trusted you, and you… you lured those monsters to my home!” Rarity maintained her own hard expression against the Vermilion, but barely held onto it under Fluttershy’s withering glare.

“Oh, don’t get your tail in a twist, little miss Mane Porter,” the Vermilion replied with a chuckle. “We won’t let them leave here alive. Will we, Bulletproof?”

Rarity’s anger wavered in the face of this strange declaration. She glanced behind at the others, then back to her… adversary?

Applejack stepped forward, confusion written across her features. “You aim to help us, Stormy?”

The Vermilion’s eyebrows rose. She looked almost amused by the question. “Applejack! Long time no see. How’s one of the only Apples to not earn my—” her face twisted into a snarl “—utmost hatred? Wait!” She was already back to a charming smile, as if the moment had never been. “Don’t answer. We’ll catch up later. I have business to attend to, and none of you have time for tea and crumpets.”

Her gaze settled upon Rarity once more. “Have you thought about my offer?”

Her offer? Ah, yes, the offer to join her in slaughtering every Apple alive. Tightening her grip on Silver Lining, Rarity spoke with as much firmness as she could muster. “I don’t need to think on it. I won’t join you.”

“Oh.” Stormy’s wings drooped along with her shoulders and head. “That’s a shame. I had really hoped you’d see reason. But if that’s the way you want it…”

She dropped down, settling her knee against Roan’s back and pressing the barrel of her pistol to the hen’s head. Shouts of alarm went up all around. Her wings flared as Silver Lining aimed at her head, but otherwise she gave the gun no mind. “You think your bullet can reach me before I pull my trigger, princess?”

Though her heart pounded and her finger itched to pull the trigger, Rarity hesitated. This was the Flaming Vermilion after all. She’d seen the aftermath of this pony’s work twice now. How was she to know that Stormy couldn’t do exactly what she claimed? She tried to ignore Sweetie’s sobbing and focus on this new threat. She needed a solution, and she needed it fast!

Roan would not die today. She wouldn’t.

“Stormy, this is ridiculous!” Applejack, her own harmonica-loaded pistols out but not raised, stomped her hoof. “We should be workin’ together. Why the hay are you doin’ this?”

“Shut up, child,” the Vermilion snarled. “The adult is talking.” Her gaze never left Rarity’s.

The only thing she could think of was to stall for time. “You’ve got my attention. Now, what do I have to do to get you to stop pointing that gun at my friend?”

“Bargaining, is it?” The Vermilion growled, then spat on the ground next to Roan’s head. “You don’t have what it takes to survive out here. A proper gunfighter would have already shot me dead, or at least tried.”

“That might explain why there aren’t very many of them around anymore,” Rarity fired back. “Now stop with the damn misdirections and state your terms.”

If anything, the Vermilion grew even more tense. She hissed out, “Pain.” Reaching down, she caressed the griffon hen’s unconscious face. “You won’t understand the world until you’ve felt it properly. I realize that now. If you’re ever going to join me, you have to think like me. You have to endure what I’ve endured. So… here are my ‘terms’.”

She stood up and backed away from Roan, though her gun remained aimed at the griffon. Her wings opened wide. “Since you’re too ignorant to understand the situation, I’m going to ‘disappear’ for a while. That Apple Gang army is going to attack. You’ll defend yourself and your friends, but it won’t amount to shit against those numbers. Your family will die, and you’ll finally understand. You’ll realize the cold, hard reality.” Her free hand balled into a fist and a fire burned in her eyes. “Apples are scum. They will murder and rape and pillage and destroy everything around them. They’re only good with bullets in their brains.

“Once you’ve figured that out?” She chuckled. It was a slow, bitter sound. “You’ll be more… accepting of my stance. And together, we’ll wipe them off the face of Equus.”

“Never!” Rarity stepped forward, Silver Lining shaking in her hand. She recalled the burned bodies and horrid stench. A ghastly image of Sweetie, Coco, of her parents lying in a burning pile almost brought her breakfast up. Instead, it lit the flame she’d been harboring for so long. “I will never join you.”

“You say that now.” With a flap of her wings, the Vermilion launched into a hover. “We’ll see how you feel after everypony you care for lies dead at your hooves.” She started to turn away—

“Don’t you turn you back on me without pulling the damn trigger first!”

The oasis went quiet. Everyone, even the oryx, stared at Rarity as if she’d just denounced the Sisters themselves. Slowly, her expression unreadable, the Vermilion turned around. Her answer was as cold as the ice in her eyes. “Did you just challenge me?”

No hesitation. “Yes. I did.” Rarity pulled out Ruby Heart.

“Whoa, whoa!” Applejack grabbed her arm. “Are you crazy?”

“No more than when I fought you in Ponyville,” she replied curtly. “The Apples are coming. See to the protection of the others.”

“No!” Her mother approached, anger in her eyes. “I’m not about to let you—”

“All of you shut up!” Rarity threw Applejack off her and turned on her friends and family. “Don’t you get it? It’s over! We can’t run anymore. We haven’t the supplies left to make it out of the Plains without going through the Apples. A stand has to be made here, even if it’s a desperate one. And I have to deal with this bitch—” she turned to point Silver Lining at the scowling Vermilion “—to make sure she doesn’t hit us from behind to ensure events go her way! We haven’t the time to argue. You ponies need to start preparing a defense or we are all dead.”

“Y-you can’t face her alone,” Applejack insisted. “I’ll help you, even if—”

“I told you to shut up! If you want any chance of making things up to me, you will get your flank in gear and make sure my family is alive when this is over. Now go!”

Applejack’s face went slack, her arms hanging limp at her sides. Pain, anger, and guilt flashed across her face in repeating patterns. Her eyes flicked between Rarity, the Flaming Vermilion, and the others. Her lips worked, but no words arose from her throat. Underneath the boiling cauldron that was Rarity’s mind, she felt just the slightest hint of sympathy for the position she’d put the mare in.

At last, Applejack’s face hardened. “Damn you for a fool, Rarity. Ain’t no way you’re beatin’ the Flamin’ Vermilion. I’ll do what you want, but when this is over I hope you appreciate how painful it’s gonna be when we find you dead.” Shoving her weapons in their holsters, she turned to Fluttershy, still up on her tree limb. “I don’t know you, missy, but if you’ve got a good place for us to set up a defense, I’d be grateful.”

“I know a place.” Fluttershy cast a withering, disgusted glare at Rarity that made her insides churn before jumping off the limb to hover. “The oryx will guide you.” With a beat of her wings, she disappeared amongst the canopy.

“Let’s move!” Applejack began guiding the others out of the clearing, not so much as glancing at Rarity. Her face was like iron, but there was moisture in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Rarity?” Coco tried to reach for her but was caught by Tiro, who dragged her away. Coco said nothing more, though she didn’t stop staring. Strawberry picked up Roan and dragged her with Sweetie’s help. Soon after, Rarity’s parents drove the wagons past. They called to Rarity, but she didn’t look at them. She reserved her attention strictly for the Flaming Vermilion, who returned the glare and didn’t stop hovering.

Rarity didn’t allow herself a chance to feel doubt about the coming fight, nor would she entertain the guilt lingering inside. For the first time since she’d left Spurhoof, she was absolutely certain that she was doing the right thing. The Apple Gang might have every class of fighter available to them, but not a single one was as dire a threat to her family as this mare. This was a hatchet that needed burying, now.

At last, they were alone in the clearing. The Vermilion landed heavily in the grass, her pistol aimed aside as she reached into her coat and pulled out a long, serrated knife. “You’ve got the guts. You’ve got the skills. But that fire of yours needs to be a lot hotter before you’ll ever stand a chance living this life, princess.”

Rarity ground her teeth. That fire was blazing hot, and she as ready to burn somepony with it. “If I win, you—”

“What, you think this is a fucking game?” The Vermilion gestured at her with the knife. “If you win, I’m fucking dead. If I win, you’re fucking dead. That’s reality. I’m not going into this half-cocked.” She raised her gun so it was up by her shoulder and narrowed her eyes. “Last chance to back out, princess.”

“I am not killing you,” Rarity replied with equal firmness, holding her weapons in a similar pose.

“You’re right about that.”

The time for talking, it seemed, had passed. The two stood at opposite ends of the clearing, Rarity with the desert at her back. The sun sent glistening light upon them as the trees swayed in a hot breeze. Rarity planned her first move, ignoring the bead of sweat that rolled down her cheek. Thoughts of family and friends left her as she devoted every iota of her focus to what was coming. This was no Cayenne or Full Steam. This wasn’t even like her fight with Applejack.

She was about to fight a living legend turned monstrous. The thought might have terrified her once. The pony within was definitely a trembling ball of terror. But Rarity couldn’t be scared right now. Her future and family were on the line, so she ignored the slight tremor in her knees and the dryness in her throat. There would be another time for fear.

Now was the time for the Bulletproof Heart.

Rarity moved, flinging herself left as her guns rose. A shot rang out, blocked by the small shield she’d set before her face. Its flash blinded her, but still she fired, Ruby Heart’s roar accentuated by Silver Lining’s bark. The flash faded; the Vermilion was already twelve paces from her last position! Rarity’s boots made dirt tracks in the grass as she skidded to a stop, guns going off and her shield flickering low.

The Vermilion leapt in a twirl, her wings and coat billowing out and making it hard for Rarity to tell what she was aiming at. She fired anyway, breaking into a run in the opposite direction. One, two, three shots pinged against her shield, each sending a mild sting through her horn. She dove behind a large tree, flinching as the trunk ate bullets and spat out splinters. Back to the wood, she hurried to switch cylinders on Silver Lining.

She had a second to consider, and she didn’t like what passed through her head. Aside from the last couple, every one of the Vermilion’s shots would have struck true without her shield. Dodging would do her no good, and she couldn’t protect herself with magic for long. Worst of all, that first shot made it clear: Stormy Flare had every intention of killing her, and she was far faster and more accurate than Rarity. Even with two guns to one…

No time to think! She jumped out, aimed—

The trunk of the tree erupted in another spray of splinters where her head had been half a second ago. Spinning around, Rarity spotted the Vermilion flying low among the trees with shocking speed. She fired back, but the forest made accuracy nearly impossible with the Vermilion’s movements. Cursing under her breath, she jumped behind another tree as bullets zipped past her head.

“What’s the matter, Bulletproof?” The Vermilion’s tone was mocking. “I thought you were ready to be a hero!”

Following the direction of the voice, Rarity poked out from behind the tree and opened fire. The Vermilion weaved about, pausing between the trunks and limbs to fire back. Rarity ducked back behind cover, hissing as something bit her cheek. How was she not hitting the blasted mare?

“Come on, show me the tenacity I’ve heard so much about!” More shots blasted the tree. Didn’t the mare ever reload? Maybe she was just that fast. Rarity took the opportunity to refill Ruby Heart’s cartridge, the click of it sliding home seeming inordinately loud. She imagined Sweetie in those familiar, hideous burn piles, stoking the fire in her heart.

She needed some new tricks.

Rarity broke into a run, moving for some bushes deeper in the forest. Out the corner of her eye she caught the Vermilion in an entirely new location, hovering high between two large trees. As her shield blocked one-two-three more bullets, she called upon her magic and fired a diamond-shaped shot of energy from her horn. The Vermilion didn’t so much as blink, performing an acrobatic twirl out of the way. Rarity read the movement, aimed and fired just as the Vermilion appeared from around the tree she’d dodged towards.

Even at this distance, Rarity could make out the two holes opened in the Vermilion’s shoulder and chest. Without even flinching, her foe righted herself and opened fire. Rarity, still running, dove into the bushes and cursed as a fresh fire rushed up her left leg. With no time to examine the wound, she lay on her back, let a few bullets chew up the leaves, then leapt up and returned fire. The Vermilion let out a frustrated shout and disappeared above the canopy.

She’d taken hits. Good hits! Why hadn’t she gone down? Had she added protection to her clothes somehow? Rarity barely kept from screaming in rage. Why had she never adapted that into her wardrobe, for Luna’s sake? She had to keep moving. Staying still would get her killed in a fight like this! She hurried out of the brush and moved for another tree, blinking back tears as her leg burned. That hit hadn’t been just a scratch.

The Vermilion exploded from the canopy a dozen feet away, now armed with a short-barreled rifle. Despite it being a bolt action, she managed three shots against Rarity’s shield before she could get behind cover. Each hit felt like miniature hammers to her horn, but Rarity worked through the pain. When she spun out from behind the trunk, the Vermilion was gone.

Only to appear from above in a new location, rifle at the ready! With a cry, Rarity let her legs go limp and fell to her rump, the wood just above her head exploding outward. She got two shots in with each gun, scoring visible hits to the Vermilion’s belly that she seemed to shrug off before her enemy disappeared above the canopy once more. Breaths coming fast, heart pounding, Rarity forced herself to her hooves and charged for a different tree.

This was taking too long. The Apple Gang could show up any minute! She wasn’t going to win this if she couldn’t disarm Stormy, but who knew how many weapons she kept under that coat?

As if in answer, something fell to the leaf-covered forest floor in her path. Rarity felt a jab of ice in her veins upon recognizing: a grenade. With no chance of dodging, she snatched it in her magic and flung it back up, at the same time falling into a slide and curling into a protective ball. The explosion made her ears ring, and limbs and leaves rained down on her. Move, Rarity, move! She rolled, and fountains of dirt darted up from where she’d been lying. In a crouch that made her wounded leg scream for mercy, she fired back at the Vermilion, who ducked back to the safety of a tree trunk near the canopy.

The Vermilion’s laughter rang through the forest as Rarity hid behind another tree. “I haven’t had a fight like this in years! Keep going, Bulletproof. Make the ending good.”

As much as Rarity hated the idea of catering to the fiend, she couldn’t resist shouting, “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Says the pony who thinks she can just ‘walk away’ from the Bad Apples. I’ve seen it in your eyes, Bulletproof. You’re just as furious as I am! All I did was offer you a chance to direct that anger at a proper target.”

Growling, Rarity moved to find a different spot to hide, only to scamper right back behind the trunk when shots rang out. A fresh sting bit into her shoulder. At a glance she found blood, but it was just another scratch. How many times would that happen before the Vermilion hit something vital?

“Yes, I am angry!” She stood up and checked her ammo, reloading Silver Lining. “I’m angry at Braeburn for forcing me into this life, at the Gang for refusing to accept ‘self-defense’ as a justification for his death. But that doesn’t warrant your sense of wild extremism!” She turned to aim for the Vermilion, who wasn’t where her voice had suggested. More shots rang, and Rarity retreated to another tree, cursing the whole way. Her leg throbbed!

“That’s why I tried to help you out,” the Vermilion spoke from… somewhere. Rarity’s left? “I just wanted to show you the truth and give you a reason to let that anger loose. What’s a few dead ponies for the destruction of an entire family of monsters?”

“As if you aren’t a monster yourself?” Prepping a fresh shield, Rarity pressed her back to her tree and listened intently. “You’ve become the very thing you hate. Worse!”

The Vermilion’s voice was so close it set a sinking anchor of dread upon Rarity’s heart. “As if you’re any better.”

They moved in tandem, Rarity’s motions guided by instinct and a pulse-pounding awareness that her life was seconds away from ending. The Vermilion appeared, knife jabbing for her chest and striking Rarity’s barrier in a flash of blue light. Silver Lining went up and fired into the Vermilion’s shoulder, knocking the mare back but producing little more than a grunt of pain. Rarity saw the pistol in the Vermilion’s left hand aiming from the hip, and she jerked her body into a twisting spin. The bullet ricocheted off her shield, the almost point blank impact making her horn burn. The knife was coming at her unprotected side, but her arm came down to strike the Vermilion’s wrist, stopping it less than an inch away.

Her leg was swept out from under her. The little pony in her head screamed last-second instructions, and Rarity obliged, turning with her fall and delivering a powerful, down-swinging strike against the Vermilion’s cheek with the butt of Silver Lining. More shots rang out as they fell together, and a fresh fire coursed through Rarity’s shoulder, forcing her to drop Silver Lining. Her ears picked up on the Vermilion’s pained cry, so much quieter than any Rarity had ever offered. They hit the ground on their sides, facing one another. The Vermilion caught her falling dagger midair in her left hand and moved to jam it into Rarity’s gut, but froze when Ruby Heart pressed against her jaw.

Time, it seemed, came to a pause. The two glared at one another, sucking in gasping breaths that rang in Rarity’s ears. Rarity didn’t dare take her eyes from Stormy’s even as her little pony fretted over how close the knife must be to her vulnerable belly. Silver Lining was… she didn’t know, but Stormy had lost her own pistol. That was of little comfort at the moment.

Stormy smiled through her gasps. “Go ahead. Do it. Blast my pretty pink brains all over the forest floor.” She pressed her jaw against Ruby Heart’s barrel. “Come on. You know you want to.”

Yes. Yes, she did. The gun shook in Rarity’s hand, her trigger finger twitching. This mare, this frustrating, bloodthirsty creature wanted to see her family dead, did she?

“That’s right.” Stormy practically cooed the words. “I see the rage in those eyes. We’re the same, you and I.”

The same? No, they were not!

“Ah-ah.” Her foe leaned forward, pressing even harder against the gun as her eyes took on a sultry quality. “Look at us. Warriors locked, our lives on the line, each ready to end the other. Why, we’re as close as lovers. Don’t you think?”

Rarity leaned back, heart throbbing along with the rest of her body. “W-what is wrong with you?”

“Oh?” Stormy pouted, not paying the gun barrel against her skin any mind. “I suppose you prefer younger blood. Like Applejack.” She licked her lips salaciously. “Gotta say, you’ve got good taste. Was it fun, bedding Smith’s pride and joy?”

A feeble gasp left Rarity. She could feel things… phantom hands upon her body. The tingling in her thighs only served to agitate her wounds even more. “Y-you…”

“Yeah, I know all about that.” Stormy chuckled, and then her eyes regained their fire. “She stole from you, like a thief in the night. Didn’t she? Don’t answer, I see it in your face. You loathe her.”

“Shut up.” Rarity thrust the barrel of Ruby Heart up, forcing those foul lips closed, but it was too late. Applejack was on her mind. Perverted, grabby Applejack. The mare who tempted her, who revealed that Rarity had a dark side of her own. The mare who made her feel like nothing but a common whorse! And the more she considered it, the more she longed to pull the trigger.

“I’m going to kill her.” Stormy grinned, and Rarity felt the tip of the knife against her stomach. “I’ll do it, just for you. Unless you want to do it yourself. If so?” Her eyes narrowed. “Kill me. I won’t wait forever, Bulletproof.”

She wouldn’t. Why wasn’t Rarity pulling the trigger? She silently cursed herself for holding back. This mare deserved it just as much as Braeburn, more than Full Steam! Ending her now would do Equestria a favor, so why was she holding back?

“Don’t fight it,” Stormy hissed, shifting a little closer. The knife stung, but Rarity’s attention was locked on those fierce eyes. “Don’t think about it. Just pull the trigger. Do what it takes to survive. Embrace that anger and let it burn everything around you!”

“Shut up!” Rarity pushed back, fighting not to flinch as the knife nicked her again. “I’m not like you!”

“No?” Cold fury grew about the Vermilion’s face, punctuated by bared teeth and eyes like sunfire. “If you die now, all your friends die with you.”

As if to punctuate those words, gunfire rang out in the distance. Rarity’s eyes flicked towards the sound as it echoed through the forest. “No…”

“Fuck them, you little shit!” Stormy’s free hand, red with blood, reached up to grasp the back of Rarity’s head. “They’re dead. They’re dead because you’re dead. You won’t kill me? Then I’ll kill you.” Rarity tried to shake her head free, but the Vermilion clutched her mane in a deathgrip. “I’ll gut you. Then I’ll let the Gang have it out with your friends and family. And when that’s done I’ll wipe out every last Apple that survived. Then?” Her voice took on a vicious whisper dripping with foul promise. “I’ll go to your family. I’ll find the ones that are alive and I’ll open them up. Slowly.”

Rarity shuddered, heart pounding and breath hitched. “No.”

“Show me the fury of the Bulletproof Heart, or so help me everypony you ever loved will go down in flames.” The Vermilion shifted, readied herself for the final push. “You’re going to lose today, princess.”

“Stop it…”

“The only choice you get in the matter is by how much.”

“Shut up…”

“Kill me, or kill them.”

“Shut up.”

“Kill me! Do it! Pull the fucking trigger!”

Ruby Heart shook. The knife pressed against Rarity’s stomach, adding to the already burning pain.

“Do it!”

She thought of Spike. Of Coco and Sweetie. Of Cranky.

“Hate me!”

She saw Mr. Fluffed’s smug smile as he prepared to end Starlight’s life. Flintlock’s cold, lifeless face drifted across her vision. The image stoked her inner fire.

“Hate everything!”

She recalled Saltwater fighting for her life, pinned down by a griffon slaver while another held a talon to Rarity’s throat. The gunshots in the air were nothing compared to the final snap that snuffed out Saltwater’s life and filled Rarity with a cold fury.

“The world only wants you to suffer, so return the favor!”

She was atop TomTom, fist smashing against his face again and again and again, every blow accompanied by a fresh injection of red hot rage.

“That’s right. That’s right! You know I’m right!”

Braeburn sat against the wall, blood seeping from his body as he smiled that hideous, charming smile. Rarity shook, her blood cold, her thighs tingling, her pulse pounding.

“Kill me! Do it, do it now! Right the fuck now!”

Coco’s smile. Cranky’s comforting presence.

Her mother and father’s proud smiles.

Sweetie’s laugh.

Rarity grabbed the Vermilion’s wrist with both hands, Ruby Heart dropped to the ground between them. The blade was in her, but not that deep. She met the mare’s ferocious gaze with a teeth-baring snarl. “The Bulletproof Heart is not a killer.”

Then she head-butted the Flaming Vermilion in the snout. As the fiend reeled, Rarity pushed her arm back, removing the blade from her insides. How lucky that it hadn’t gotten more than a half-inch or so. She started to stand, only to be tackled to the ground, rapidly finding herself in a struggle for the knife. In no time at all it was aimed for her chest. Rarity’s arm and shoulder screamed for mercy as her shaking hands fought against the Vermilion’s weight.

“You stupid bitch,” Stormy snarled as the knife edged closer, blood dripping from her nostrils. “I gave you all the chance in the world to end me, and you couldn’t even take it. Well, look at what it got you.” With a growl, she pushed the trembling blade down. It touched Rarity’s collar just above her necklace. “You’ll die here. All your friends are going to die here! And for what? Your stupid fucking standards.” She leaned in close, their muzzles almost touching. “See what good they are now?”

For all the effort she expended keeping that knife away, Rarity felt no fear. Instead, there was only a warm, pleasant calm. It was like something had brought an end to all her rage and given her a special gift, the gift of clarity. She didn’t have to think beyond the pleasant heat on her chest to know where it came from.

This was a familiar sight. It was almost enough to make Rarity laugh. She settled for a grin. “Next time you want to gloat, I suggest you remember to check something important.”

Stormy grinned right back as the blade at last touched Rarity’s pale skin. “And what is that?”

“Make sure I’m dead.”

Rarity’s horn flashed, and she released the knife. It remained rooted in place, held firm by her magic. Stormy scowled, reached a fist back—

Silver Lining and Ruby Heart were in Rarity’s hands, pulled in via magic she barely conceived. They fired in tandem, sending bullets slicing through Stormy’s thigh and armpit at sharp angles. The mare’s eyes shot wide open as she faltered, stuck in that pose for but another second as she let out a quiet “Oh.” Then Rarity shoved her off with a shield spell, sending the mare careening onto her back.

Rarity climbed to her hooves, leaning precariously as her leg cried out in pain. But… not as much pain as she’d expected. Intending to check the injury, she instead found herself staring at the necklace. It glowed, bright and brilliant, the diamond gem plainly visible through the fabric of her shirt. Its light pulsed with her heartbeat, slow and steady and ever soothing. She reached up to feel at it, and it was as warm as a flame without any of the pain of burning. This was… she had no idea what this was.

But she loved it. In a subtle, patient way, she felt like this was exactly how things were meant to be. It was as if the necklace truly belonged with her, in a way it never had before.

A low groan interrupted her study. Stormy rolled over to support herself with her good arm, the other hanging limp and useless. Though her opposite leg could still move, she let out a pained moan when she tried to put any weight on it, slipping and falling back to her one-armed position. When her eyes met Rarity’s however, they hadn’t lost any of their fire. “This isn’t over. I’m not dead yet.” Letting herself fall forward, she pointed a trembling finger at Rarity. “Kill me. You’re supposed to kill me!”

With her magic, Rarity picked up Stormy’s knife and pistol. Letting them levitate at her shoulders, she turned in the direction of the gunfire still going on in the distance. The others were still in need of help.

Stormy shouted at her back. “Damn you, don’t turn your back on me! I know you share my anger! Kill me, Bulletproof! That’s what you have to do!”

Rarity paused to turn back to the bleeding mare, feeling nothing but pity. “I’m not going to be your replacement in this world, Stormy. Nor will I be the one to end your suffering. There are better ways to cope with it.”

“Shut up!” The broken mare crawled forward, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. “Y-you… you don’t know a thing about me. You don’t understand what I was trying to do, what they took from me.” Her eyes spat venom, her words dripped poison. “I’ll teach you. I’ll teach you how the world works! I’ll show you what it means to lose what’s most precious to you!”

Rarity was unmoved by such vitriol. With a final sigh, she turned and walked away. “Goodbye, Stormy.”

“No! You fucking bitch, get back here!”

Rarity ignored whatever else was said, letting the screams become mere background noise. Her steps shifted to a trot, then to a full run as she pursued the shots in the distance. All her pain was gone, though a quick glance revealed the wounds remained. Was this the necklace’s doing too? She’d take it, even knowing it was probably doing her leg more damage in the long run. It was an acceptable risk.

She had to save the others, no matter the cost.

No attempt was made to hide her approach. With the sheer numbers involved, her interests centered on getting as many weapons aimed at her as possible. The more ponies shooting at her, the fewer there were shooting at her family. Every gunshot reverberated in her eardrums. Did that shot take down her father? And that one, Coco? It was a peculiar feeling, knowing your heart was hammering yet having a mind as calm as a desert breeze.

It started so quickly, she had no time to register the fact. She leapt through a brush and saw, before her boots ever touched the ground, that she was suddenly surrounded by a half-dozen ponies. The world drifted in slow motion as they began to turn, faces shifting to wide-eyed shock at her explosive arrival on the scene. It was difficult to say what happened first, her hooves touching ground or Silver Lining opening fire. Ruby Heart wasn’t far behind.

Rarity didn’t have to think. She barely needed to aim. She was aware of the enemy, and so were her guns. Each had fired two shots, and four ponies dropped their weapons near-simultaneously, clutching bleeding hands. The other two were just starting to level their weapons at her, but Silver Lining and Ruby Heart were lightning to their breeze; one dropped his weapon like the others, and the second’s gun exploded in his grip. Stormy’s knife darted amongst the ponies, bashing them with the blunt handle in their heads and sending each pony toppling to the ground.

Time sped up, but even then, Rarity could only stand there, staring at her weapons as if seeing them for the first time. “W-what? How did I…?”

A purple flash caught her eye. She looked down at the pulsing gemstone in her necklace, and all confusion faded. Tapping it with the back of her wrist, she felt its warmth through her skin and thought of Spike.

A moan filled the air, enough to grasp her attention but not to pull her from her thoughts. She approached one of the fallen outlaws, a violet-coated stallion her father’s age, and bent down. Still awake, despite the lump growing on the back of his head. A cursory look around showed that he was the only one. When he opened his eyes his pupils shrank. She stood and watched as he crawled away on his hands and knees, stumbled to his hooves, and fled into the surrounding forest with his tail between his legs.

A smile crept up her lips as she felt at her necklace again. “Okay, Spike, there might be something to this Element of Harmony business after all. I really owe Coco for giving you to me.”

Standing once more, she resumed her run, following a clear path of destruction. It wasn’t long before she came upon bodies, most of them oryx. She passed by one with its antlers stabbed into an earth pony’s throat. She might have shuddered at the sight if not for the ever-present calm radiating within. Even when she passed by the familiar cat Chowgarth feeding on a dead earth pony, her stomach only roiled a little.

More ponies appeared along the path. Why they weren’t with their brethren in the attack, she didn’t know, but she made them pay for not anticipating her arrival. Silver Lining and Ruby Heart unleashed pain to anypony that got in her way. The pistol she’d stolen from Stormy darted about in her magic, magic that seemed as strong and fresh as if it had never been touched before in her life, resorting to bashing against opponents when it ran empty. The knife danced through the air, coated in blue and smacking foes around by the blunt of the blade. She shot hands, bashed heads, crippled weapons, shattered kneecaps. Bullets streamed through the air from her ammunition bag, reloading Silver Lining and Ruby Heart the instant they were emptied. 

And not a pony died. Rarity’s heart sang with pleasure at this simple truth: she could save her friends, and nopony would die! Her precision had become a thing of wonder and beauty, as intricate a dance as when she made a dress or sewed a pair of pants. If Rarity could be credited with nothing else, she could at least say her work was high quality. The loss of fatal risks to her enemies delivered to her a newfound confidence and surety, and she danced through their unexpecting lines like a hot knife through warm butter. Barely a pony even got a shot off before she was past a group and on to the next.

As the area grew rocky and the forest less dense, the path broke off in three directions, each with signs of recent activity. With no leads to go on and no time to debate, Rarity didn’t bother to stop, just ran down the middle path. She thought she could see the shallow tracks of wagon wheels, so it was her best guess on such short notice. There were no more Gang ponies in her way at this point, but the gunshots hadn’t stopped.

The path dropped into a narrow, rocky valley. Within a dozen yards the walls became cliffs stretching a dozen feet above her head. She wasn’t even sure the wagons would fit in such a small space, and the ground was too hard for anymore wheel tracks. The soothing aura of her necklace kept her fears limited to the little pony pacing circles in her head, but even she wasn’t as panicked as Rarity would have expected. The gunshots grew louder, echoing off the chalk-white stone walls, encouraging her to keep running.

Even with the magic of her necklace, her heart stopped when she came to the back of her parents’ wagon. Just barely wide enough to fit inside the valley, it appeared they’d simply stopped it and used the back as cover for return fire. The wood and canopy were riddled with bullet holes, the source of her budding fear. The shots were near deafening now; the others had to be fighting for the lives just on the other side.

Barely breaking her stride, Rarity leapt into the back of the wagon, rolling to maintain momentum and coming to her hooves in a sprint. She barely acknowledged the blood coating the floor. Upon looking up, she saw a familiar earth pony whirl around to face her from the front of the wagon. The pony’s eyes shot wide open at the sight of Rarity. “Bulletproof! I was wondering when you’d—”

Stormy’s empty pistol smashed into the mare’s jaw. Rarity was on her before she had a chance to react, slamming the back of the mare’s head into the upraised corner of the front of the wagon. She went limp, and Rarity promptly shoved her outside. “Nice to see you too, Cayenne. Sorry, I don’t have time to play.” She climbed swiftly out the front.

The narrow walls opened into a wide bowl of a valley, and Rarity stood up in a scene of utter chaos. Her family and friends were barricaded behind the last wagon and a collection of supply crates beneath a deep overhang of stone. Bounty hunters and Gang members alike used the rocky terrain to take cover from returning fire. The air was alive with the hiss and bang of bullets. Even her parents had taken up arms, almost certainly stolen from defeated foes in the midst of battle.

With no time to waste, Rarity smashed the hilt of her knife into the back of the nearest, unaware pony’s head, then ducked behind the rock he’d been using for cover. Between firing on the nearest enemies, she cried out, “Applejack!”

The mare in question’s head popped up from behind a bullet-ridden crate. “Rarity? How in the name of—?” She ducked as bullets bit into her cover.

“I expect everypony to be alive, Applejack!” Rarity stood up long enough to disarm a couple more ponies with well-placed shots. The outlaws were finally coming to recognize that they were being flanked and started returning fire. With her newfound calm and sixth sense for where her foes were, Rarity made sure to pick off two or three every time she popped out of cover. Even so, there were at least two dozen of them left by this point.

“Rarity!” That from her mother. “Up! Look up!”

She did, just in time for a bullet to impact her shoulder. Her body twisted from the hit and the breath left her, but the expected pain didn’t come. They were up on top of the cliffs! With no time to think, she dove under the wagon to avoid more hits. This gave her the reprieve she needed to check her new wound. It was bleeding, badly, but otherwise it was as if she’d never been shot. Her necklaced shined in the shadows, casting everything beneath the wagon in a blue glow.

When the effects of this magic wore off she was going to be in a lot of pain. But that was Future Rarity’s problem. For the time being, she thanked Luna for unexpected blessings and crawled back out, firing upon the ponies up on the cliffs as she did. One brave soul on her level tried to charge her. Brave, or perhaps stupid; she put a 45 in his hoof and stepped aside as he fell past her. Her only thought: get to the overhang. She would be far more effective from there. This in mind, she put a shield around her entire body and broke into a sprint, unleashing a storm of bullets upon every unfriendly face she saw.

Then she saw the grenade. Reacting on instinct, she caught it in her magic, ready to toss—

It blew up in her face, the force of the blast slamming against her shield with enough force to shatter it and send her sprawling backwards. The lack of pain did nothing to disguise the throbbing of her horn. Somepony had timed that toss just right! Who in Equestria—?

“Bulletproof!”

“Oh, come on.” Rarity scrambled to her hooves, only to dive behind another rock as founts of dirt rang around her. She looked up in time to see the Flaming Vermilion pass over the scene, massive wings beating loudly. Her arm still limp, she used her teeth to pull the pins on two more grenades before tossing them precisely at a group of outlaws huddled amongst some nearby cliffs.

“You’re mine, Bulletproof!”

The explosions sent ponies flying, their screams mixing with the bullets. The Bad Apples lost their cohesion as they now faced enemies from three directions, each outlaw picking their own targets with nopony to give orders. Some of them even dropped their weapons and fled, apparently not willing to go up against her and a living legend at the same time. The Vermilion passed again, firing a couple rounds from her rifle before disappearing amongst the cliffs once more.

Rarity threw her head back and groaned. “Please, Celestia, Luna, tell me what it takes to not have ponies want to kill me!” Leaping to her hooves, she disarmed a few more Bad Apples. The valley floor was almost cleared of opponents at this point, the survivors fleeing the scene as she shot their hands, arms, legs, and even weapons. The more she dealt with via her nonlethal weaponry, the fewer Stormy would kill. In theory.

The Vermilion shot out from over the cliffs, taking aim at Rarity. She and Rarity each got a shot off at one another. Rarity had no idea if she landed a hit.  At least it seemed Stormy’s aim with the rifle was impaired when she had only one hand and was moving at speed. If she paused to aim properly, Rarity swore she’d make her pay for the mistake.

A piercing scream made her ears fold back. She turned in time to see a stallion hit the ground with a sickening crunch. More screams followed more bodies. Up on the cliffs, the oryx had arrived to assault the Bad Apples, smashing into them unawares and sending them careening to their deaths. Those not caught in the first wave turned and opened fire on their animalistic new foes, but already their numbers were thinning.

“Got you, bitch!”

Rarity turned and fell at the same time, sprawling sideways as a bullet nicked her neck. Silver Lining returned fire before she hit the ground, but the Vermilion took the hit to her leg with a howl and dove. The rock Rarity was beside blocked her view, but she could guess what was coming next. Pushing more magic into her already worn horn, she came up with a shield at the ready. The Vermilion was there! They fired at point blank range. By some miracle, Stormy managed to twist her flight into a corkscrew roll and escaped harm, while her own shot ricocheted off Rarity’s shield.

The pegasus ended her roll, swung around and came to a hover; Rarity turned around and aimed Silver Lining at her. Her shield remained intact, and from the quiet of the valley, the larger battle had ended. Which meant… “Stop it, Stormy! The fight is over. If you keep this up, you’ll die for sure!”

Stormy responded by firing a shot. Rarity didn’t flinch as her shield took the hit with barely a ripple.

The Vermilion’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, Bulletproof. But you’re not going to get a perfect win against me. I said I’d make you suffer, and I keep my promises.”

Rarity squared her shoulders and met her glare for glare. “You’re not breaching this shield.”

“I don’t have to.” Stormy smiled, adjusted her aim slightly to the right.

Two shots echoed through the valley. A massive hole burst through the Vermilion’s chest even as the barrel of her rifle flashed. Her eyes went wide. Blood seeped through the open wound and out her mouth when she gave a choking cough. Her trembling hand reached up to touch her tassel earring. “Sp-pit… fire…”

She fell like a rock, smashing face-first onto the valley floor. Hovering a few yards behind her was Fluttershy. She cocked Cardinal, sending a large, smoking bullet casing sailing through the air. Her voice matched the frigidity of her eyes. “That’s enough of you.”

As if on cue, Rarity heard a chiming sound from her necklace. She glanced down and saw the brilliant glow fading. Its magic had been expended, or so it seemed.

And that was when her body finally got to tell her how much it disapproved of all it had been put through. Her leg erupted in pain, making her cry out and collapse, and her shoulder felt as though it were on fire. Her horn could have been broken off entirely and it probably wouldn’t hurt as much!

“Rarity!” Applejack was at her side in an instant, helping her roll onto her back. “Oh, Sisters, you’re done up bad. What were you thinking, fighting in this condition? Coco, we need you!”

“I can’t!” Coco cried from somewhere beyond Rarity’s blurring vision. The panic in her voice nearly froze Rarity’s blood. “Sweetie, the other wagon! Medical box. Quickly, quickly!”

Somepony else was injured. Rarity reached up and grabbed Applejack’s jacket. Fighting to see through her own pain, she looked the mare in the eyes. Eyes that spoke of worry and… fear. “Who?”

“N-now, Rares, you just lie down and take it easy—”

“Who?” Though her shoulder was stiff and sent flaming daggers into her brain, Rarity caught Applejack by the mane with her other hand and forced her face towards Rarity. “You tell me, Applejack. Who is it?”

Applejack swallowed, the sound audible even through the blood pounding in Rarity’s ears. By Luna’s Stars, she felt tired… but no. She held Applejack’s gaze, demanding and pleading in equal measure. Applejack seemed to be fighting a mighty internal battle, her expression shifting between alarm and worry and anger before finally settling on defeat. “Hondo. It’s Hondo.”

“Papa?” The air left her lungs as something cold clutched her heart. “Take me to him.”

“You need to—”

Rarity slapped her. “Take me!”

“Okay! Okay.” Cringing, Applejack knelt down and half-pulled, half-carried Rarity to her hooves. She put Rarity’s good arm around her shoulder and her own about Rarity’s waist, flinching when Rarity hissed in pain at the contact. “Alright, Sugarcube. Nice and slow.”

They got three steps in before Sweetie ran past them, a small box tightly clutched in her hands. She didn’t look at Rarity, but that didn’t prevent her from seeing the child’s tears or hearing her quiet sobbing.

As they approached the overhang, Rarity finally got a good look at the others. Tiro sat against the wall nursing a profusely bleeding leg. Strawberry lay nearby, her arm… oh, Luna, her arm was gone. She stared straight up, still alive but clearly in shock, while Roan worked frantically to clean up and bandage the wound. The sand lizards lay nearby, watching the scene with clear trepidation. Winona was tied to the safe side of the wagon with Applejack’s lasso, straining against the rope in an effort to get to her owner.

But they could only hold Rarity’s attention so long. Her eyes soon landed upon a sight that made her feel empty: her father lying on his back, sucking in slow breaths as Coco frantically worked on an open wound in his chest. Her mother clutched his hand in both of hers, her face solemn and tear-streaked, but she was as silent as a grave. Sweetie stood nearby, hands clenched in trembling fists at her side as she sobbed.

“Papa.” Rarity had meant to shout. It came out as a whimper. She tried to work her legs, but her right one could bear no weight at all. Applejack was practically dragging her at this point. “Papa!”

His gaze shifted to hers slowly, so horribly slowly. His wide, watery eyes spoke of pain. But when they settled upon her, they brightened. He reached for her. Without a word, Applejack helped Rarity to her knees and held her steady while Rarity took his hand in hers.

His grip felt so terribly weak. She tore her eyes from his to look at the wound in his chest. Despite the clotting powder Coco had dumped into it, it continued to fountain blood. Coco met her eyes, hands clenching open and closed as she muttered, “I don’t know what to do. R-Rarity, I… I’m s-sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

Rarity’s mother put a hand on Coco’s shoulder, though she didn’t stop watching her husband. “It’s okay. It’s enough, Coco. It’s enough.” Her voice didn’t waver, even when the young mare collapsed against her chest and broke down into sobs. Her eyes, no less strong for their sadness, met Rarity’s. “It’s enough.”

Rarity’s father gave her hand a feeble squeeze. “Princess…”

His voice was so frail. Rarity loathed that sound coming from his lips. Still, she met his gaze. “I’m here, Papa. I’m sorry.” She clutched his hand to her chest, ignoring the fire in her shoulder in favor of the agony in her heart. “I tried. I t-tried so hard.”

With a last sob, Sweetie turned and fled the scene. A second passed. Another. Wiping her eyes, Coco staggered to her hooves and went after her.

“Rarity.”

She met her father’s gaze once more, fighting back the hitch in her chest. She looked into those blue eyes, took in that silly brown moustache, and her mind fled back to simpler times. Times when he indulged her spoiled little foal tantrums. Times when he tried to get her interested in hoofball, forcing her to come to the local games. Times when he held her close, keeping her safe from the monsters of her nightmares, even when her mother said he was coddling her. And he had. He coddled her so much.

And she’d rewarded him by leaving before she was even grown up. What a waste. She bowed her head, shame and guilt washing over her. “I should have been there. I’m sorry, Papa. I… I n-never should have…”

“Good.”

She raised her head once more, locking eyes with him. “W-what?”

“Good.” He tried to raise his hand, but it only trembled. Rarity raised it for him, caressing it to her cheek.

He coughed, blood running down his chin. Coughing became hacking. At last, the fit faded. His red lips twitched, struggling to form a smile against the pain. In a haggard whisper, he spoke. “You d-did good. Keep… keep doing…”

His breath hitched. His body quivered.

Hondo Flanks fell still.





She lay on her back, staring at the blue sky through the jungle canopy. Everything was numb. Her horn, her wounds, her mind. Even her heart. She had no idea how long she’d been lying there, away from the others. Long enough for the sun to come up and her stomach to complain about a lack of food. Not that she paid either any attention. She was too busy thinking of the stallion now buried and gone. A stallion she’d taken for granted. His last words kept echoing in her mind over and over again.

Her view of the sky was abruptly blocked by something large, white and scaled. Ophelia nudged her cheek with a quiet trill. With an arm the weight of iron, Rarity reached up to rub at the lizard’s muzzle. Ophelia sniffed it, her breath hot, then settled down at Rarity’s side and stared at her as if waiting for her to get up. She didn’t feel inclined to do so.

The rustle of wings alerted her to a new arrival. She didn’t follow the sound. A moment later, Fluttershy stood over her, expression as coolly neutral as it had been on the day they’d met. Rarity took in her gaze, wondering just how she’d known where to find her. The answer came to her as she glanced at Ophelia, to whom she muttered a half-hearted, “Traitor.”

Ophelia replied with that silly, open-mouthed grin of hers.

Fluttershy’s voice was as hard as her expression. “I’ve already told the others. You’ve got two days to resupply, then I want you all to leave.” She turned away.

“Do you hate me, Fluttershy?”

The pegasus paused. The sunlight filtering through the trees made her great yellow wings seem to glow. Her long, wild pink mane swayed in a cool breeze as her hands clenched and unclenched. As Rarity observed her, she couldn’t help but recall the mare’s former title. The Angel of Elysium. Had fate given her a warning before guiding her to this shell of a life? The parallel with Rarity’s own brought a certain morbid curiosity out of the depths of her numbness.

When Fluttershy finally spoke, the heated pain of her voice was accompanied by a biting bitterness. “On your life. That’s what you promised me. Nopony would follow you here, on your life.” She took a long breath, released it. Her wings twitched with tension. “I’ve been tempted to hold you to that.”

Groaning from the effort, Rarity sat up and turned to face her. “I wouldn’t stop you if you did.”

Fluttershy looked over her shoulder, the anger in her glare lessened by a distinct uncertainty. “And that’s why I can’t hate you. But I am very… upset.” Another calming breath as she faced forward once more. “Regardless of my feelings, you broke your promise. The Scimitar doesn’t trust you anymore. I don’t either.”

One more needle to a heart already coated in them. Rarity took it stoically. “So I’m no longer welcome.”

Fluttershy trembled. Her head bowed. Rarity merely waited, knowing the answer even if it wouldn’t come. At last, Fluttershy muttered, “Just go.” With a flap of her wings, she disappeared into the forest.

Rarity might have heard weeping in the distance.





She found her mother and Coco loading up the wagon with fruits and vegetables gathered in the forest. It seemed Elysium had no shortage of food for hungry visitors. They’d moved the wagon out of the valley and into the jungle proper so as to better access the local resources. The other one had been too damaged in the fighting to be of use. Their activities were watched by a grazing oryx nearby, it’s manner entirely animalistic once more. The creature was far creepier now that she knew there was some kind of sentience behind those innocent, unassuming eyes.

“I was wondering when you’d join us, Blister,” her mother said, invoking her favorite nickname for lazy ponies.

“Mother.” Rarity stopped herself from asking the obvious ‘how are you’. The mare had just lost her husband and had been told she had to leave a place of safety right after finding it. The sag in her shoulders told enough of a story without Rarity trying to rip away the calm, collected mask on her face. Instead, she turned her gaze to the bodies lining the side of the road. A few were missing.

The sight added a few more needles to the heart. That so many of the ponies she’d spared had been murdered in their sleep by the oryx ignited the tiniest of sparks inside her. All her work, the small comfort of knowing she’d stopped the fighting while not killing, ruined because of some cold and calculating guardian she couldn’t understand or hope to challenge.

But she wouldn’t blame herself. No, she was done with that. Instead, she turned back to her waiting mother. “Where are the others?”

“In the wagon,” Coco answered, walking by with some grapefruits in her arms. She didn’t meet Rarity’s gaze. “Sweetie, Tiro, and Strawberry. Trying to keep one another’s spirits up.”

“I… see.” Rarity considered going to talk to them, but thought better of it. She was in no state to assist in such matters. “And Applejack? Roan?”

“Roan is with the oryx,” her mother explained. The grimace she couldn’t quite prevent showed just what she thought of that idea. “They are supposedly showing her where some medicinal herbs can be gathered. Applejack…” She turned her head to the nearby creek. “She went down by the water. Haven’t seen her in nearly an hour.” She blew her bangs from her eyes and trudged for the forest. “I’ve only got four people healthy enough to help with the stores, but somehow it’s just me and Coco doing all the work.”

Rarity raised her hand after her. “You know, I could—”

“Don’t even think about it, young mare!” Her mother rounded on her, eyes ablaze. “You’re not doing a thing, not with those injuries of yours!”

Flinching, Rarity attempted to put pressure on her wounded leg. It was like walking on fire, and she knew from her mother’s narrowed eyes that she’d failed to hide the pain from her face. Recognizing there would be no arguing in this situation, she let her arms go limp and nodded. “Fine. I guess I’ll… go find Applejack.”

Coco was at her side not a second later, grasping her good arm. “Oh, no, you don’t have to. We’re fine, you should—”

“Let her go, Coco.” Rarity’s mother waved her off. “She needs to feel useful, so let her do what she can.” With that, she turned and stalked into the forest. An oryx appeared in the brush, chewing on some leaves as it followed her at a comfortable distance. It had dried blood on its antlers. Rarity watched the two of them disappear, feeling as if her shoulders were made of lead.

“She doesn’t blame you, Rarity,” Coco whispered. “You know that, right?”

Rarity tried to offer her a comforting smile, but her lips refused to obey. “She wouldn’t. Mother’s not the type to do something like that.” Her eyes drifted to the jungle, as if she might spot her mother through the thick foliage. “It just hurts to see her trying to hide the pain. I wish she’d confide in me, but I suppose that was never her way.”

Coco hummed and nodded. “If I know Cookie at all, she thinks it’s her job to be the strong one in the family.” She gained the tiniest of smiles. “Now I know where you got it from.”

“That I don’t regret one bit.” Pulling away from Coco’s touch, Rarity turned for the creek. “I’m going to find Applejack. You’d best get back to work before Mother thinks you’re being lazy.”

“You don’t blame you, do you?”

Rarity paused, looked over her shoulder. Coco stared at her, lip trembling and ears low. It hurt too much to see her like that, so she faced forward once more. Even so, she answered with a conviction no number of needles to the heart could damage. “I’m not taking the blame for everything that happens around me. Not anymore.” When she walked away, she tried to keep as much of the limp out of her gait as possible. She needed her confidence in those words to show in more than just her tone.

Once she was safely out of sight of the wagons, however, she allowed herself to moan and treat her leg with far more caution. Even after two days, it burned. They’d already confirmed there was no infection, and the bullet had gone straight through without hitting anything vital. In a few weeks it would be just another scar. But until it healed, she was going to have to accept that walking meant agony, and thus avoid it as much as possible.

Not now, though. She felt the pull on her subconscious. It was familiar, something she’d felt the last time she’d come to Elysium Oasis, but back then it had been only a faint calling. Today she could almost swear there was a voice in her head telling her to approach. And if it was what she thought, then she’d find Applejack taking the same route.

It took a little over an hour of hobbling along to reach her destination. A familiar path away from the waterside led her to a clearing, in the center of which stood a tall, lonesome oak tree. And there, before the graves of Fluttershy’s family, sat Applejack. She had her necklace out over her shirt, the apple-shaped gem shining a bright orange to match the faint pink of the necklace on the pedestal. Rarity pulled her own necklace out to find it glowing as well, though its light was subdued. If she didn’t know better, she’d say its sluggish shifts in luminance was a sign of weariness. The plates were no longer a dull, tarnished bronze but a brilliant, reflective gold.

She sat down by Applejack, her groaning catching the mare’s attention. The piece of grass Applejack had been chewing on fell from her lips as she gawked. “Rarity, what the hay are you doin’ walkin’ all the way out here in your condition?”

Instead of answering, Rarity rubbed her lightly glowing necklace and studied the one on the pedestal. “I wonder if that one belongs to Fluttershy.”

“Don’t go changin’ the subject.”

Rarity looked to Applejack, then to the apple gem on her bronze necklace. “Where did you get yours?”

“I… You…” Applejack’s face scrunched up, unable to stop glaring at Rarity. At last she heaved a sigh and went limp, reaching up to touch the jewelry around her neck. “It belonged to my Granny Smith. It’s always been passed down to the leader of the Apple Family. For as long as there’s been an Apple Family, for all we know.”

Rarity hummed, her attention going back to the graves. She’d thought about asking Fluttershy if her father could be buried here, but had decided against it. Fluttershy was in no mood to grant such favors, and had no obligation to do so. Still, this was such a nice place. Her father would have liked it. Not that he would have minded the shady place by the river they’d chosen.

“You alright, Sugarcube?”

The question was obvious… and yet so perfect. Was she alright? Her father dead, her works of yesterday ruined, her friendship with Fluttershy in tatters. Yet for all that it felt like a vice was closed about her chest, she was remarkably calm. Even the little pony in back of her mind was leaving her alone. Her thoughts drifted back to Stormy Flare and her fiery rage. In that boiling body of hatred and loss, Rarity saw what she could have become.

“A lot has happened,” Rarity finally said, idly picking at the grass between her knees. “But I think… I know this sounds unbelievable. I think I’ll be fine.” A glance at Applejack revealed a face twisted with doubt and concern.

All Applejack asked was, “How so?”

Rarity touched her necklace once more, smiling weakly at the warm pulse it raised in response to her touch. “The Vermilion wanted me to become her heir. To kill her and take on her mantle. She had so much hatred in her, so much poison. I can’t imagine what she lost to turn her into that. When we fought, I realized exactly what I could become.”

She reached up to touch her necklace, thinking back on her behavior in the last couple of seasons. “I thought I was turning into a monster. I believed the Bulletproof Heart was to be exactly that. The Vermilion tried to make it happen, but I realized… I choose what I will be.

“I won because I refused that future. I’m not going to be angry and spiteful anymore.” Her eyes went to the graves, and while they didn’t belong to her father, she found it easy to imagine him looking down on her with his stupid moustache and silly smile. “Papa told me I did good. I don’t think he made those his last words just for my sake, so I choose to believe them. From now on, that’s exactly what I’m going to do, so that he can watch from the Exalted Stars with pride.”

“Do good, huh?” Applejack plucked another blade of grass from the ground and stuck it in the corner of her mouth. “And just how do you plan on doin’ that?”

“I have no idea.” Rarity leaned back on her good arm and stared at the bright blue sky. “But I’m not going to let a fear of death and the Bad Apples dictate my life anymore. That’s a start, I think.”

At that, Applejack managed to chuckle. “After what happened yesterday, the Bad Apples are goin’ to be a bit more wary of comin’ after you.  I think you just became the most dangerous mare in Equestria.”

Rarity had no idea what to think about that, or even if it was true. But she didn’t want to add more to her plate of thoughts for the time being, so she let it slide. Instead, she focused on more recent matters. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“I suppose.”

Watching Applejack out the corner of her eye, she asked, “How did your grandmother die?”

Her companion went stiff, but only for a second. She plucked the grass from her mouth, licked her lips, put it back. Her eyes gazed at something in the distance, far beyond the forest. A fresh breeze blew her long ponytail about as she mulled over the query… or perhaps memories.

“The stallion that started the Bad Apple Gang shot her in the back like a yellow-bellied coward.”

Rarity abruptly regretted asking the question, but all she could reply with was a hesitant, “I see.”

“It was quick. I wasn’t there. Was only eight, and they’d sent me to Manehattan to learn to be a ‘cultured lady.’” Her eyes narrowed, a darkness coming over her features. “Swore I’d make him pay with his life, but I can’t do nothin’ now. I don’t have the resources or the skills. So now I just deal with them, try to minimize the damage best I can. But someday. Someday.”

“You were close to her.” Rarity had meant it to come out as a question, but if felt more like fact.

Applejack pulled her hat down over her face, not that it hid her angry eyes from Rarity’s low view. “She was my sunshine.”

Lying down in the grass fully, Rarity brought her eyes back to the sky. A malaise draped itself upon her like a heavy blanket as she thought of all the years she’d spent on her own. “I wish I could say I was that close to Papa.” She turned her face away from Applejack’s glance, fresh tears in her eyes. “I spent so many years away from home. And why? Pride. Guilt. Fear. When I finally saw them again, I realized just how much I’d missed. But it never really dawned upon me until yesterday, when we… buried him.”

“Rarity—”

“They never gave up on me.” Though a fresh tear slid down her cheek, Rarity realized she was smiling. “I came home, and I was still their darling daughter, their pride and joy. Even after I’d all but removed them from my life. I don’t deserve a family as good as that.” She sat up, ignoring the sting in her shoulder, and met Applejack’s gaze. “No more self-recrimination. Papa believed in me, so it’s time I believed in myself. I’m going to honor his memory, and the continuing love of my mother and sister, by being the best pony I can be.”

Applejack studied her, eyebrows high. She looked as if she wasn’t certain she could believe what she was hearing. Then she smiled and nodded. “That sounds mighty fine, Miss Belle.”

“It goes for you, too, Miss Apple.” Rarity took Applejack’s hand in hers.

The mare jumped at the sudden contact, abruptly looking as though she’d been caught doing something naughty. Wide and full of fear, her eyes locked on Rarity’s. “M-me?”

“You want to make your grandmother proud, do you not?” Rarity offered her most comforting smile. “So live well, Applejack. Do good. Seek justice for her, not revenge. I’m sure you can live up to her expectations, just as I intend to live up to my father’s.”

Applejack blinked once. Then again. A lopsided smile found its way on her lips as she turned away, cheeks gaining a rosy pink hue. “Them stories didn’t do you justice. You’re more amazin’ than I expected, you know that?”

Rarity promptly jerked her hand back and scoffed. “That was not an invitation to hit on me. Thanks for ruining the mood.”

Ducking as if to avoid a blow, Applejack grinned. “Hey, it’s not my fault. You make me wanna praise you to high heaven.”

With a “hmmph”, Rarity scooted away from the mare and pointed an accusing finger at her. “Don’t hand me no lines and keep your hands to yourself.”

They stared at one another, Applejack with a wry smile to match Rarity’s tight-lipped glower. Then, Rarity started to chuckle. Applejack soon followed suit. Before long, they were both laughing out loud. As tears rolled down Rarity's cheeks, she couldn’t tell anymore if they were from pleasure or pain. And she wasn’t sure it mattered.

She’d once been told that she may find peace with her new life, and that she was the kind of pony Equestria needed. Rarity wouldn’t be so presumptuous, nor did she feel entirely at ease. But she felt like she was on the way to finding that peace.

For now, that was good enough.
> Post-Credits
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


106th of Rising Heat, 1006 BA


Spike let out a hum that shook Rarity’s bones with his proximity. “That is quite the story, Lady Rarity.”

“He says to the pony who lived it.” She was settled upon her Royal-sized mattress with its silk sheets again. Spike had kept it there ever since her departure, ready and waiting for her to claim it once more. Sweetie Belle lay curled up next to her, unable to stay awake for the entire story. Rarity didn’t blame her; they’d had a long journey together. It was also a welcome change, for the teenage filly had produced an endless stream of excited questions ever since she’d been first introduced to the Boss of Howler’s Bank.

Her mother and Coco, on the other hand, had been all too eager to be taken to their respective rooms, prepared well in advance of their arrival. It seemed it would take time to get used to the idea that the protection promised them for so long was coming from a dragon.

“And how are you?”

It took her a moment to register that the question had been asked at all, and longer to realize what it had been. She sighed and shook her head. “I’m getting by. I miss Papa fiercely, but the weeks required to travel here have dulled the sting.”

Another throaty hum. Spike scratched at his throat with a lone talon, his eyes on something beyond the walls of his cavernous, gem-filled home. “I promise to look after your family and Miss Pommel as best I can. They will be safe here, though I question if they will wish to remain.”

“They’ll come around,” she assured him, reaching down to pet Sweetie’s mane. The filly smiled and nestled a little closer to her big sister. “I’m sorry they didn’t take to you right away.”

“I know how it is.” Spike offered that pleasant smile of his, the one without showing all his teeth. She idly wondered how many years it had taken him to perfect that. “I seem to recall a certain pony fainting at the first sight of me.”

She blushed, but returned the smile. “At least they didn’t do that, I suppose.”

They held one another’s gaze for a moment, but then Spike lost his smile. Shuffling in place, eyes filled with concern, he asked, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m better than I’ve been in a long time.” She chuckled, a hollow note that sounded all the more so thanks to the echo of the cavern. “Stormy Flare’s rage revealed to me what I didn’t want to become. I have a much clearer path now, at least philosophically.”

Spike’s long, sinuous neck brought his head close to her, such that he was able to stare into her face. His breath, as minty as she recalled, blew her mane back, but she didn’t retreat from his gaze. Rather, she met it fully, not sure what to expect from his thoughtful scrutiny.

“You’ve changed, Rarity. You are a very different, far stronger pony than the one I was forced to say goodbye to a few seasons ago.”

She smiled and reached up to rub the tip of his massive snout. “Thank you, Spikey.”

He averted his eyes, and she thought she saw a touch of pink in his cheeks. The idea that a dragon could blush still baffled the mind. She’d certainly never seen Ophelia do that. After a moment’s embarrassment, he retreated back into his sitting position atop his pile of gems. She couldn’t stop smiling; to see something that big be embarrassed was strangely cute.

“So,” he asked with a bit too much quickness, “what happened to the others?”

Her thoughts drifted to the friends she’d parted with recently. It proved an effective dampener on her mood, not that she blamed Spike for that. “I’m afraid Strawberry didn’t take too well to the loss of her arm. When we parted ways, Tiro said he intended to bring her home. It’s probably for the best.

“I offered to escort Roan to her roost, but she declined.” That thought left an unpleasant sting in her chest. “She was determined to make the last leg of her voyage on her own. I fear she wasn’t ready, but… I think it’s time I learned to let some things be. I’ll just have to trust that she made it there alive and well.”

Another of those throbbing hums. Spike stared at his claws, which twiddled and poked at one another in an anxious display. “I know that feeling.”

He would, wouldn’t he? Twirling Sweetie’s mane between her fingers, she replied, “I’m sorry. I knew you didn’t want me to leave. I suppose it worked out in the end. I’ll try to take that as a sign I should be more confident in Roan.”

“I guess so.”

They were quiet for a time. Rarity’s mind was blank, and comfortably so. For the first time in ages, she wasn’t thinking about who she needed to protect, where she needed to get to, or if anypony was out to kill her. It was nice, not having to worry. Even Roan slipped her mind for the time being, though she knew the young griffon would come back to her thoughts eventually. For now she would bask in the peace of Spike’s home and enjoy his company, as well as that of her family.

Speaking of… “I wanted to thank you again, Spike. I know I have no place to ask you to look after them, but I appreciate it with all my heart.”

“Of course. It’s my pleasure. Your sister seems like a delight to have around.” His massive green eyes settled upon the filly, but not for long. “You will stay for a little while? At least until you heal.”

“But of course, Darling.” Rarity grinned even as she took a moment to rub her still-aching shoulder. “Far be it for me to reject your hospitality. You do know how to spoil a girl.”

He placed a claw over his heart and bowed his head in a mildly exaggerated pose. “I live to serve. But if I may ask, what do you intend to do once you leave?”

He hadn’t even bothered to suggest she wouldn’t. But then, it had likely been obvious. He knew as well as she did that her future still wasn’t in these caves and tunnels, no matter how comfortable he made them for her. Indeed, they felt even less appropriate for her now than they had when she’d last been here.

Realizing he was watching her, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll need a way to earn some money, since I’ve lost my entire fortune in the last year. I’d hate to take up bounty work.” She grimaced, the very idea leaving a bad taste in her mouth. “Still, I shall do what I must with the skills I can no longer deny I have. And no—” she added with some bite just as his mouth began to open “—I will not be accepting any financial gifts from the Bank. I started this journey a self-made mare and by the Sisters I will end it that way.”

Spike raised his claws up in a gesture of surrender. “I shall say nothing of it. But,” he added with a hopeful smile, “perhaps if I sent word to you on occasion of lucrative opportunities?”

For that she gave him a warm smile. “I’d be happy to receive that kind of help. Thank you, Spike.”

“You are welcome. In the meantime, might I make a suggestion?”

“But of course.”

A lone talon, almost as wide as she was tall, approached until it was only a foot away, the tip aimed at her chest. “The Elements of Harmony.”

Cocking her head, Rarity reached beneath her shirt and pulled out the golden necklace. “This? I am still not wholly convinced it is what you say it is.”

“It is, Rarity. I know it as sure as I know my own hoard.” His eyes narrowed as he studied the necklace, the tip of his tail flicking and sending coins and gems rolling about in waves. He paused when the noise made Sweetie stir, and waited until she drifted off once more to speak again. But his eyes never left her necklace. “That is the Element of Generosity. And, if I have the details of your story correct, then you’ve already found two others, though I cannot claim which ones they are. That means there are three more.”

“Two more.” His eyes flicked to hers, and she continued, “Don’t forget the one I saw with the buffalo.”

“It is no coincidence.” Spike settled on his belly, all his attention now focused on her necklace. “The Elements are awakening. They are seeking new Bearers, of which you are one. Applejack is likely another.” Ignoring Rarity’s scoff, he asked, “Where is Applejack? I would like to see her Element and determine which it is.”

“She went home,” Rarity replied primly. “She is the leader of her Family, after all, and she’s left them to their own devices for far too long. It was time to check in and make sure everything was still running smoothly.” Rarity didn’t bother to add that she felt a little saddened by the mare’s leaving. Not that she was ready to fully accept Applejack’s presence, of course. Not at all. She just didn’t like travelling alone anymore. “I’m sure she’ll find her way back to me in time. She all but said she would.”

“If she does, let her know she is welcome to come to this place. I would very much like to meet her.” Spike’s gaze, ever thoughtful and now somewhat firm, met hers. “I recommend you seek out the remaining Bearers. It may not be necessary, for the Elements have a way of bringing the right ponies together. I feel something big is going to happen. It will happen soon, and you will be caught in the middle of it.”

The confidence in his tone fed a flame of uncertainty within her. His solemn, sure stare only reinforced that feeling. She pushed it down and focused on straightening Sweetie’s mane with her fingers. “I hope not. I’m ready to face my future, but I don’t know that I’m a good fit for taking on the world.”

Spike was silent for a time, save for his ever-heavy breaths. She didn’t look up, not wanting to know what he was thinking. If her necklace was an Element and it did have plans for her, she preferred not to know about it. It was enough that it was hers. Besides, she didn’t believe his talk of Elements.

“There is somepony you should meet. I would normally suggest her teacher, who was a friend of mine, but I’m afraid she died last year. Her apprentice may be able to tell you more about your necklace.”

Rarity sighed and peered up at him. “If I agree to at least consider doing this and searching for the Elements in my spare time, will you agree to drop it for now?”

His scaled lips turned up in a smirk that suggested he knew far more than he was letting on. “Very well, I can live with that arrangement. A promise for a few days of peace.”

Part of Rarity wanted to ask what his game was, but in the end she found she just wanted to not think about it. So, with a roll of her eyes and an inviting gesture, she said, “Deal. So who is this pony and where would I find her, should I be so inclined?”

“You will find her in Manehattan. She goes by the name of Trixie.”