Chapter 1, A Long Walk
Hot.
It’s so fucking hot. I mean, shit, it’s supposed to be a forest. You know, plenty of trees, plenty of shade, less heat. But no, it has to be the middle of summer, which means it’s really fucking hot. Especially in all of this gear. I mean, the gear is worth it, obviously. Anything that can stop a bullet is a good thing to have, but it’s fucking hot. At least I don’t have to walk. Or fly. Then again, I can’t fly anyways.
“Hey, birdbrain, having a nice daydream up there?” Called a voice so callously sweet you could feel the smirk on it’s owner’s face before you saw it.
The aforementioned owner of the voice is one Bittersweet, though most simply refer to her as Bitter, an earth pony barely bigger than a normal unicorn who also happens to technically be my boss. “Nah, just thinking about how glad I am that I get to ride on the wagon, and not walk a couple days in this heat.”
She huffed, adjusting the gear on her back as she walked, “Yeah, yeah. Keep up that tone and you’ll be down here running laps around us faster than you can say ‘already on it boss’.”
I leaned back on the crates I was resting on, a smirk of my own growing on my face. “Come on now, we’ve been over this one boss, this damn injury of mine really screws with my ability to exert myself for long periods of time. So, unless you want to carry me on your back the rest of the way, I gotta stay where I am. Doctor’s orders!” It’s not technically a lie, I do get tired rather quickly, especially in dry heat like this. You can blame that much on my back’s joints. Damn things love to seize up all the time. It’s not like I’m a cripple, I can still walk perfectly fine. Most of the time.
“Yeah yeah, just do your job and keep an eye out, would you? Raiders ‘round here have been gettin’ pretty ballsy with their attacks lately. But you’d already know that if you bothered to pay attention during the group meetings, now wouldn’t you?” Well, she’s got me there. With a sigh, I raised my binoculars again to, you know, do my job.
…
It’s a forest, a thick one at that, I can’t see anything with these damn binoculars. Why did I even bring these along? So I can look at the trees around us closer? What kind of idiot brings binoculars into the forest? I gave them my worst scowl and threw them aside, hearing them clattering against a tree trunk somewhere off to the left, followed quickly by someone else scooping them up, though I am unsure as to who precisely, and instead opting to simply use my eyes as they are. Nothing too wrong with those yet.
What can I say, these trips are rarely very entertaining. After simply scanning the edge of the path for a few minutes, I turned to look at another one of the guards by the name of Board. Bloody unfortunate name if you ask me. “Hey, Board, any idea how close we are to our next destination? I’m baking over here.”
He looked up at me with glazed-over eyes, tilting his head for a moment before shrugging and going back to looking ahead. I said his name was unfortunate, not inappropriate. He’s about as bright as a board alright. Running theory in the caravan is that he took some sort of injury to the head, maybe hit with a board. Damn strong pony though, gotta hand it to the earth variety. You need something moved or smashed, you ask one of them.
Still didn’t get an answer to my question though, so I looked back over to Bittersweet, who was still walking basically right beside me. “How about you? Any clue how long before we get there?”
She slowly turned her head over to look at me, an eyebrow cocked. “What are you, a foal? Constantly complaining and asking if we’re there yet. Just do yer job, ‘fore I fire ya.”
“Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” You know, for someone named Bittersweet, she’s sorely lacking in the sweet side.
That’s something I, as a griffon, always found interesting. Ponies always had names that were directly in line with either their jobs or their personalities. It’s a bit odd just how much their parents are able to predict with just a name. Or maybe it’s that they are shaped around their names, not the other way around? I suppose it’s just one of life’s great mysteries, like the mystery of why couldn’t rain be whiskey? I’d prefer it that way, in all honesty. Why couldn’t those damn Enclave bastards do that instead? Everyone would be much happier pretty much all the time! Then again it’d be rather dangerous around open flames. Imagine wildfires with whiskey rain. Whole bloody sky would be lit up. On second thought, I take that idea back, would probably cause more trouble than it’d be worth. Actually, that’s another one of life’s great mysteries. Why does everything good in life have to have a trade-off attached to it? Seems rather counterintuitive if you ask me.
“Finally! Looks like we made it!” A voice shouted from the front of the caravan. Never bothered learning the name attached to it. As we rounded a sharp turn in the trail I saw what they meant by that though. Directly after the turn, there is a long stretch of tree stumps going about a hundred or two meters, and ending at a small moat filled with wooden spikes. After the moat came the wall, made entirely of logs which were seemingly tied together in three places as well as planted in the ground, and coming up to a cone shape at the tip of each log. There were two towers peaking over the walls, each holding very big guns and lights, and between them was a hastily constructed drawbridge. We had arrived at our destination, Woodtown. Very creative, I know.
Time sure does fly when you’re thinking, eh? I sat up as we began to cross the gap between the woods and the wall. The gunners scanned us, and yelled something that I couldn’t quite hear from where I was to someone on the ground. Shortly after the drawbridge lowered in a series of jerking motions that I couldn’t see as being good for the rope. We quickly crossed the distance to the ramshackle gate and entered, giving me the familiar sight of the town.
Behind the wall seemingly hobbled together sat a collection of buildings which in comparison seemed like masterpieces of…whatever field makes houses. Dirt roads connected brightly painted homes made of a mix of wood planks and brick. Each home seeming very distinct from its neighbors, all hosting different styles and paint jobs entirely, so much so that it appeared as if someone had simply walked all across Equestria scooping up a random assortment of housing as they went, with little to no care of how they appeared in comparison to one another.
There were a few people milling about in the streets, but no more than what should be expected of a small town in the middle of nowhere. In total, the town is home to little more than twenty to thirty buildings, including a clinic, inn, general store, guard station, barracks, and of course the sawmill which the town was built around. I never bothered checking the exact number of buildings myself, so I’m sorry about that missing detail.
As per usual, I got off of my seat on top of the wagon with little issue and approached one of the town guards. This one I recognized, and he recognized me as well from the frequent caravan runs I’ve made to this shitty little town. We made eye contact, I unstrapped my rifle from my back and handed it to him, he took it and put it in the Time-Out corner, nothing out of the ordinary, no words needed. The other members of the caravan were doing the same, a few words exchanged but nothing worth mentioning. I waited for Bittersweet to be done, then grabbed her attention before she wandered off by tapping her on the shoulder with a talon.
“Alright, I got us here safe and sound, could you please pay me now?” I said in the nicest voice I could muster, clearly adamant to get a bag of caps before heading into town. She sighed heavily, attempting to stare me down yet failing due to the simple fact that I’m taller than her.
“Ya know how this works, you get paid once we’re back to where we started. Not before.”
This was a bit of a setback, but nothing I couldn’t work around. “Uh, no, when we were working out the terms of this trip we agreed to half my pay once we get here, and the rest once we get back.” A lie, but I had a way around that fact.
She seemed to take offense to that, a snarl starting to form on her face. “Oh yeah? I don’t remember that, so it doesn’t apply. My caravan, my rules.” This was gonna be a harder sell than I expected. I have to break out all of my irresistible, unbeatable charisma skills here.
“You don’t remember? You were drunk when we were working it all out, so that’s probably why. Come on Bitter, we go way back, you know I wouldn’t wuss out on you and leave halfway through a job. I just need enough to get a drink and maybe a room. I’m broke! Do you really want one of your employees sleeping in the road? Doesn’t make the best appearance for you, does it?”
That one got her, she finally caved with a sigh, visibly deflating, “Fine, but I’m only givin’ ya a third. I don’t trust you halfway as much as I can throw you. Just try not to drink too much. I still need you tomorrow for the return trip.” With that being said, she took out a small bag of caps, counted out a hoof full, and finally surrendered them to me.
I immediately broke into an overly wide smile, grabbing the caps with enthusiasm and stuffing them in a pocket on my vest. “Sure thing boss, be seeing you tomorrow!” I yelled back at her as I immediately took off towards the inn, chuckling to myself all the while. I was so excited to finally get some more drink in me and get out of the heat that I simply ignored my surroundings, instead opting to rush directly for the bar. My wings tried to instinctively flap along with my running, giving me a good bit of pain but not much else. I had managed to secure them in a fairly comfortable way, but nothing would ever really stop the ache.
I barely stopped myself before slamming into the door like a giddy hatchling, taking a moment to correct my appearance and remove my helmet, placing it into my saddlebags, before walking into the inn. The sight inside was a welcoming one indeed, as well as the crisp, cool air. Not too many people were on the first floor at this time of day, so it was mostly quiet except for the radio playing by the bar. Unsurprisingly, there were a few ponies already seated at the bar, all of them in the same armor I didn’t immediately recognize. Aside from a couple tables and the bar, the first floor was mostly barren, and so I moved to the bar.
The only available seat was next to a unicorn mare, again in the strange, desert camo armor. I didn’t feel in the mood for introducing myself, so I simply climbed into my seat and knocked at the bar to summon the bartender. The bartender by the name of Cliff, we go way back to all the drunk nights I’ve spent slumped over his bar, came over to me quickly.
“What’ll it be?” He asked in his usual, monotone voice. He’s not a very entertaining host, really.
“A whiskey, whatever the cheapest you have is. Come on, you should remember this song and dance by now, old friend.” He didn’t seem to be in the mood for a back and forth, instead just grabbing a bottle, pouring a good amount into a glass and practically slamming it in front of me. “You better be able to pay your tab this time, or I’ll kick you out like the feathered trash you are.”
Ignoring that statement entirely, I grabbed the glass, about to take a sip, before I was rudely interrupted by my neighbor.
“Hey…do I know you from somewhere?” A…strangely familiar voice asked beside me. Wait…I turned to the host of that voice, who was already turned to look at me, feeling my glass slip from my talons and hearing it shatter on the ground, much to the dismay of Cliff. At that moment, we locked eyes and immediately recognized one another. There was no way, no fucking way…yet there she was, before my very eyes. It seemed baffling for her as well, as she took in what sat before her for the first time in nearly a decade. I opened my beak to speak first, and she followed very shortly afterwards.
“Autem?!” “Grant?!”
The moment of shock took me off guard, and before I knew it I was on the ground, magic cuffs forming around my limbs and locking me down, a hoof on the back of my head. “With the power vested in me by Gawd and the NCR territories, I, Sargent Autem Spring, place you under arrest for slavery, war crimes, and fleeing justice, you cowardly, winged cunt!”