#foesotw

The door to the bathroom opens, and a stallion stands in the doorway. An earth pony, clad in Enclave standard issue tac-ops gear. Really the only details I can get of his face are his mismatched blue and green eyes, and his dandelion colored fur. The eyes are enough for me to know him. “You alright, ma’am?” His eyebrows turn upwards, and he cocks his head. “You look… pale. More than usual.” His eyes trail towards the chunks lining the porcelain bowl. A device on his left foreleg trills. An alarm. “Star…”

“I’m fine, Gel.” I close the lid, flushing what remains of my sickness away. Standing, I get to washing off my face in the mirror. Because we were occupying the Stable, I took the liberty of removing my power armor. I didn’t really need it, especially not for these rodents. I wore a skin-tight black bodysuit, holes for my wings, and framing for the Psycho-Sync planted in my back. Slicking my short mane back with some water, I shake myself out. “Any leads regarding Gamma-87?”

Gel steps in, pulling an injector from his tac belt, laying it on the off-white counter. “Nothing so far. Just what we’ve been fed time and time again over these few weeks. She was a reactor tech, disappeared months ago. Small, fat, highly intelligent and unremarkable.”

“Sure fits the profile.” I unzip my collar, uncovering my usual injection sight, right on my neck. “The baker and the artist. What about them?”

“Friends, supposedly. Analysts say the former will break too easily, the latter, not at all. Seems we can’t get our sweet spot yet.” Turning towards Gel, he gently keeps hold of my left foreleg, bringing the injector up to its normal spot. He knows I don’t handle needles well. “We’ll find something soon. I’m sure of it. If not for the Director’s sake, for yours.” Carefully pressing the tip against my skin, the needle shoots into my flesh. I feel a wave of shock and fear pulse through my body, before it slowly begins to fade. The twisting of my nerves dulls, and my mind fogs.

As he pulls the autoinjector away, I rub at the spot he hit. No blood. As per usual. “Thanks, Gel.” Zipping my collar back to its normal state, I nod slightly. “I’ll go talk to the department heads. We have them in the Simulacrum, right?”

“Yes ma’am.” Gel nods, “Want me to accompany you?”

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head, “No, but thank you. I appreciate the assistance with the suppressants. I should be operating to standard now.”

Deep in Gel’s eyes, I catch hint of something. Worry? Pity? I’m not entirely sure. Normally I’d kill anyone for looking at me that way, but he’s my brother. “Good luck, Star.”

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There was nothing in the Stable emergency guides about this sort of situation. Not in the million times I heard Cake recite them, had she ever mentioned a case like this. Was it unaccounted for? Were we all really that unlucky so as to not only lose our reactor tech, but get sieged? I didn’t know if that was the right word for it, but it felt right. No, occupied, that’s the one. I hid in my room with Cherry resting on my bed. They hadn’t killed any more of us, but they weren’t exactly treating us with any kindness. I peeked through my curtains, checking the hall. It was “lights out”. I didn’t know when the time to be active was, but I could think of no better time than now. My eyes unfocused from the hall, staring at the reflection of my violet eyes for a moment, before I moved my head away from the blinds. I glanced back at Cherry, letting the curtains go. “The hallways are clear.”

The earth pony laying across my, unfortunately messy, bed slaps her face into her hooves. “Crap! Ace, what are we gonna do?? They’re definitely here for Cake!” She whisper-yells, shaking her head. “If they’re here for her, they’re here for us!”

I sigh, fluttering my wings and gently floating over to the other side of my room. I look at my tools. My artistic implements. Brushes, piercing needles, a tattoo gun, trying to think of something. “Damnit… there has to be something we can do about this, Cherry.”

Cherry rolls onto her back, groaning frustratedly. “What can we do?? We’re so… screwed! We’re fucked!”

“Alright alright, relax!” I take a deep breath, starting to sort through my drawers. Which were unfortunately unsorted. Much to my active dismay. Stopping for a moment, I look around the counter. They didn’t take our knives. Sure, they were for chopping food, not for flaying flesh. But, it was something. “Before we do anything, I need to know what you know.” I look back at her. “Secrets aren’t gonna cut it. If we’re gonna get out of here we need to be 100% on the same page. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

Rubbing her eyes and sitting up, Cherry shakes her head. “I don’t even know where she actually is.”

“The radio station, Cherry! We have to use the radio.” I move away from my countertop, blue brows furrowed, frustratedly rubbing the backs of my lip piercings against my gums.

She hesitates, rubbing her left foreleg, above her Pip-Buck. “I went in there a few times, but… I…”

Giving her note a once-over in my head, I huff through my nostrils. “You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

“It’s been months, Ace. I’m terrified! We can’t send a signal out now, the radio room’s been fucking hijacked!” She shakes her forehooves in front of her chest. “We’re stranded. We’re at their mercy, and nopony else’s.”

I grind my teeth, feeling my throat tighten. “How did Cake leave through the secret door?”

“I-I dunno. She found something in there. She was a mess after she showed me the reactor. Wouldn’t tell me anything.” She thinks for a moment, then her panicked expression suddenly turns into a grim one. Her face goes pale, ears flopping back. “Oh, dear Celestia… the reactor. It hasn’t been vented since she left.”

I grab a knife from the block on my counter, slipping it into my belt. “We’re going in there and we’re fixing this. We’ll leave, we’ll find where Cake went, and we’ll figure out how to get there.”

“What are you gonna do with that, Ace?” She puts a hoof under her chin, looking worriedly at the blade in my Stable suit.

“What I have to, Cherry.” I made for my door, pressing the button on the side. She scurried to my side, keeping close as I peeked out into the pitch black hallway. I keep my hoofsteps light, and my posture lowered. All I could hear was the sound of the vents pushing air. I tried to avoid light as I crept through the corridors, keeping my eyes focused.

A corner, meeting the Simulacrum. Where the Overmare hosted the garden parties. Where we grew our crops. The place was held by two Enclave soldiers on the inside, and the captain they answered to. I was too curious. I had to know what was happening. I approached the stairwell, sticking to the railing to hide. Cherry tried to pull me away, to little avail. “Ace!”

“Shh!” I turn around, hushing her with a hoof, before I really listen in on what’s going on down below.

4 Stable ponies, one in front of three, Head of Agriculture, Head of Education, and Head of Security. The one at the very front was none other than the Overmare herself. Overmare Silver Lining. On either side of the Stable ponies were a pair of Occupants, standing guard. And pacing in front of the Stable ponies, none other than the sky blue alicorn herself, Darkstar. She didn’t wear her armor. Instead, she wore an all-black, seamless bodysuit. On top, connected to her back, was what looked like a silver spine, lit up with green lights.

The faux royalty let out a bored sigh. “Listen, Lining, I understand you think you have some sway over my authority, but you do not. You abandoned your post in favor of these… tunnel rats, and for what? Only so you could get caught with your hoof in the cookie jar? I know this Stable hosted Gamma-87, and I am not leaving until I get even the slightest trace of where she went.” She chuckles, shaking her head and leaning down. “You’re old and frail, and for a traitorous snake like yourself? That is a death sentence. So take the fall and save your supposed brothers and sisters the heartbreak of witnessing anypony else die. It’s a simple proposal.”

“I’ve told you! I don’t know! She left through a secret entrance into the Stable, and then she disappeared!” The middle-aged mare replies. “No messages, no radio, not even so much as note taped to the fucking Stable door!”

The militant alicorn huffs through flared nostrils, flapping her wings. She circles low to the ground, around the group of administrators. Her forehooves fold behind her back, hind legs dangling, tapping the air impatiently. “You’re telling me you haven’t pinged her Pip-Buck yet?? You honestly expect me to believe that, Overmare?”

Head of Security, Umber Strap, begins laughing, shaking his head. “She has a Pip-Buck 2000 Mark VI!”

Darkstar’s head snaps to him, wrinkles darkening her face. “You find this humorous?? What difference does the model make?”

He laughs harder, leaning back in his cuffed sitting position. “Everything! That function didn’t get added until the Pip-Buck 3000, you stupid bi-”

A green sliver of light gleams through the air, and suddenly Umber stops laughing. His face goes slack, eyes wide. Then, blood begins seeping from his skin, everywhere. He collapses, spilling into a pile of steaming gore cubes. Darkstar takes a deep breath, dusting herself off. “I hope you’ve all learned something from this. I will not take insults lightly. Neither will I tolerate such treatment of a dire situation as Captain Strap has expressed.” She touches the ground, no longer flying, but standing on her hind legs. She stares Silver Lining down, then her eyes slowly careen over. Head rotating. Her pure balefire eyes lock onto me, and her brows furrow.

“SHIT!” I turn to run with Cherry, but as soon as I do, she’s standing in our way. Raising her forehooves, we’re both hoisted into the air by our throats, blazing green magic tight around our necks.Clicking her teeth, Darkstar smirks, shaking her head. “Now where do you think you’re going?” She cocks her head, pupils glowing white, “I think it’s about time we get to know each other, my little ponies.”

I was getting thinner. I started to look pretty average in terms of weight, as opposed to my chunkiness fresh out. The wounds from my scrap in the hospital had more or less healed. Just bits of scabbing remained, which I washed away with water. More scars to add to the collection. I was starting to look like Chopper, at least what I remember him looking like. Or maybe Carrie. I wasn’t thin enough for that though. I couldn’t imagine being that rail-thin. Frail looking, gangly. Whatever. Pulling on my Stable suit, it really settles in how loose it’s gotten. I tighten my bandolier and gunbelt, wrapping my old, torn-away sleeve around my hoof again. Even if it was healed, I found the cushioning useful. I latched my Pip-Buck on, checking the weather. One last blizzard before Winter called it quits.

I pushed out of the bathroom, into the main area of an old home we’d taken refuge in. The floorboards were creaky, the stairs were squeaky, and the walls whispered with the wind. It was dilapidated, clearly neglected, but it still stood strong. Fizzle sat on the couch, sorting our supplies into different saddle bags. She’s taken up a lot of counting activities to preoccupy herself. Ever since the hospital, she’s been much more paranoid, sticking as close to either me or Carrie as she can. She won’t dare go near Prim. I feel for her, I really do. It’s not like I don’t understand what she went through, you know? To be pinned down, overpowered by a feral beast that understands you as only food and a womb. Feeling so powerless. Terrified of the razor-sharp teeth in that maw. Only difference is, I was able to overpower my assaulter. She couldn’t. I had to save her. That must make her feel like such a burden. And shit. It’s not like I don’t understand that either.

Willow was in the kitchen area, trying to prep everything for when Carrie and Prim got back from their little expedition. Hopefully with food for us.

I took a seat across from Fizzle, taking out my revolver. I've cleaned it a lot since my acquisition. Considering it was in that bitch’s hooves, I probably should’ve boiled and bleached it. But Prim’s been giving me shooting lessons while we bunk here. Part of that means disassembling, cleaning, oiling, and reassembling my gun. She did it obsessively, compulsively. Hopefully I won't end up like that. Regardless, I started pulling pieces of the gun off of the frame, beginning the disassembly. After every use, she said. “How far is Cantertine from here, Willow?”

“No further than a few hour’s drive. We can leave whenever we feel ready, honestly.” She sorts through the cookware, a few pots banging together as she shifts things around. “Fuckin’… ugh. Whoever was here last has no measure of a clue on how to organize cabinets.” Sighing, she pulls a few old pans out. “Then again, when I was with-“ she stops, glaring at me. Like she’s biting her tongue. “Cake, do you want a drink?”

Something in my head grinds against itself. Like a mountainside suffering erosion. Grains of sand make my skull itch. I hesitate, “Uh, yeah, yeah that’d be nice.” Then, as she saunters off, I look back at Fizzle. She’s giving me an odd look. “What? What’s up?”

“You caught that, right?” She gestures to where Willow was. “What she was about to say. It clearly had something to do with you.”

I nod, “I know. At this point I’ve grown used to it.” Taking a rag, I start to gently oil the gun.

She shakes her head, “Why don’t you push? Pry? Try to hear the whole thing?”

How could I explain that to somepony like her? The grinding got worse. My throat itches. I started coughing, covering my mouth with a hoof. This one was really bad. My health had declined in the past week, at its worst now. I was running on empty. The wall in my brain was making it worse. Agitating it somehow. I brought a spare rag up to my face, pulling away once the coughing fit stops. Bits of blood soak the fabric. This was some kind of sign. Don’t push. It’ll only end up hurting you more. “It’s not worth it.” I replied. “Not now, at least. Someday when I’ve got more juice in me. When I can handle it better.”

The peachy pony sighs, starting to pack things away. “The target that Crank wants us to track down and your dad are one in the same, right?”

I recoiled a little bit, “I… think so. Why?”

“Just. This whole thing. We’ve been on the road almost four months already. You honestly think we’ll find him?” Shrugging, Fizzle straps her bags closed as she finishes them. “I mean, we’re only gonna find a clue in the Empire, right? What if he turns up dead?”

That was a reality that often plagued me. Thinking about how he was really the only reason I left the Stable. The realization that I wasn’t a Stable pony. Not really. If he’s gone, would it be for nothing? Hard to say. “I dunno. I guess I won’t know until I either see him breathing or find his corpse. Praying it’s not the latter.”

“You and me both, Cake.” She places a hoof on the table, halfway between the two of us. Some show of allyship. I stopped, finished oiling, just having to snap the pieces back together. We made eye contact. There was a light in her eyes that was noticeably missing from most other ponies. Including most of the group. “If only for your sake, I’m holding out hope.”

Willow comes back, holding a trio of drinks in her magical grasp. She sets two on the table. One for Fizzle, one for me. “I hope you like scotch. Whoever owned this place had an expensive taste.” She smirks, returning to the kitchen area.

Fizzle gives me a look. Hesitation. She wasn’t somepony who liked liquor. The only way she’d drink alcohol was if it was in a bottle that said “Sparkle-Cola Dark”. Picky eater? No. Picky drinker, absolutely. She slides the second glass towards me. “Uh… all yours, Cake.”

I scoop it up with a hoof, raising it above my head. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” Then, I shoot it back. It’s sweet but strong, giving me a rush of warmth through my brain and throat, following down to my gut. Setting the glass down, I shake myself out. “Whew. That is… strong.” Using my magic, I snap the last few pieces of the gun together. Loading it with fresh cartridges, I slip it back into my holster.

The front door of the house opens, snow blasting in through the crack of the wooden entrance as hooves click against the hardwood floor. With a great heave, the door shuts once again, and the pony who opened it slowly walks their way over. It’s Prim, shaking off the snow, littering the floor with icy flakes that’ll eventually become a puddle. She tosses a pair of duffel bags onto the floor, they loudly slam on the ground with a metallic twang. “Whew! Scavenged what I could. Take what ya can, leave what ya don’t need.” The earth pony huffs, glancing around the room. “Uh. Am I… interrupting?”

Fizzle wordlessly approaches, saddle bags on her back, checking the duffel bag on Prim’s right. Unzip, zip, and a toss over her shoulder. Without making eye contact, she starts moving to another room. “I’m gonna sort this ammo. I’ll work on the other bag when I’m done.” Up the stairs, and presumably into one of the bedrooms she goes. Leaving three of us once again.

Prim, standing on her hind legs, shakes her head. “Fuck did I do?” She retrieves one of her sticks of gum from her pouches, pulling it into her mouth with her tongue.

I gesture to the seat across from me. “Bring the other bag, take a seat.”

She scoffs, doing as she’s told. Dropping the bag on the coffee table, it creaks ominously. Then, she reaches for my other drink. However, before she can, I use my magic to scoot it closer to myself. Growling, she shakes her head. “Cunt.” Unzipping the bag, she leans back in her chair, crossing her forelegs. “There. Take a look.”

Pulling aside the flaps, I sort through the bag. Mostly miscellaneous junk. Low end drugs, caps, bottles of water and Sparkle-Cola, and pieces of old gear. I retrieve one. A hammered metal shoulder plate with straps that I might be able to work into my bandolier. I flip it over, checking the inside. A series of engravings. Raven, Hatchet, and Nitro, all in different styles. “Hm. What’s this?”

“It’s called armor, you should start wearing some, unless you decide you wanna be the group bullet sponge.” Prim explains, “So go on, give yourself at least a modicum of protection. There’s some leather in here too, I’m sure you can work it.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, dickwad.” I huff.

Groaning, the merc blows a bubble, as per usual. Once it pops and swirls back into her mouth, she shrugs. “Stupid tradition lots of Raiders uphold. Every time they get a new piece of gear, they stamp their name into it. So, whenever you loot a corpse, you can know what corpse it was looted from before you.” Prim chuckles, “I’ve seen guns with wood furniture covered front to back in engravings. Chest plates too. Like whole novels were stamped in braille.”

Taking out my knife, I begin carving my name into the pauldron. Just below Nitro. CAKE, all in straight, scratchy lettering. I’m a wastelander. Might as well indulge the culture. Twisted as it may be. “So where’s Carrie? Manage to lose her during the spree?”

The front door swings open once again. In the entryway stands the only other pony it could be. Her eyes glow in her darkened silhouette, her only identifiable feature in this light. Then, with a slam of the door, our eyes all adjust, and we can all see her in detail. All of us stop what we’re doing to stare. She approaches me, standing, walking on her hind legs. In her left hoof, in its claws, she clutches a cloth sack, dripping with… something. In her right, a bolt action hunting rifle, no scope. She drops the sack in front of me, and I watch as burst Bloatsprites and chopped up Yao Guai spill out of the bag, soaking the floor. “Y’can purify these?” She stares me down, pointing at the gory mess.

“I… might be able to, why?” I look up at her, smugly raising a brow.

“Answer the question, mare-mite.” She stays stoic.

I let out a heavy sigh, rolling my eyes and crossing my forelegs. “Heaven forbid I fuck with you for a second. Yes, I can purify them.” I mutter under my breath, scooting forward.

“Git on it, then.” She shambles into the kitchen, grunting loudly.

“Do me a favor and say ‘please’ sometime, dude.” I reach out my right hoof, concentrating, beginning to siphon the rads soaked deep within the meat.

Sniffing at the air, Carrie glares around. “Fizzle. Where is she?”

“She’s in-“ Prim starts.

“Didn’t ask you, merc.” Holding up a claw, she shoots the pony a vicious look, before returning her attention to where it was. Willow. “Where’d she go? Her scent’s still fresh.”

Willow chuckles, not in a funny way, but in a weirded out way. “Track her upstairs, you fuckin’ bloodhound.” She points above.

Snorting like a bull, Carrie turns to me. “Y’done?” She gestures to the gore pile.

“Yes, I’m done. Why?” I recoil, why did she care?

“Cake ‘n Ah‘ll be right back.” Carrie announces.

“She can’t go out in the storm with you, are you insane??” Willow bares her teeth, arguing for me.

I slowly stand up, clipping the shoulder plate to my bandolier. “It’s fine… hopefully it’ll be quick. I have enough in me for strong winds, don’t worry.”

“Hour, tops. Let’s go.” She makes for the door, not another word.

I follow, silently, out into the cold. The wind howls as the snow slowly drifts onto me, and I’m met with the sight of the rest of town. Old, decayed. However, something stands out. A light is on in a small hardware store, one that wasn’t on before. The windows are too hazy to see through, but somepony is inside. Carrie slings the rifle onto me, then gets down on all fours once more. I hear her robotic parts click as she rests, beginning a walk towards the shop. I keep pace behind her, best I can. “The rads. You knew they’d give me strength, didn’t you?” I asked, raising my voice a little so I could be heard over the storm.

Looking over her shoulder, she gives me a stern glare. “Ah don’t know a damn thing about how yer innards work. Ah jus’ don’t want rad sickness.”

I chuckled, “Now- now I know that’s a lie! I know you’re not telling me something.”

“Could be right.” She replies, “But Ah don’t plan on tellin’ ya any time soon.”

Sighing, I kept the pace. We crept closer and closer to the store, before we finally made it to the door. Opening it up and stepping within, I feel warmth wash over my body. Then, I spot her. A pegasus, a ghoul. She was cross-eyed, and had patches of gray fur, and a yellow-gold mane. She glanced over at us, fiddling with something behind the counter. “I didn’t know you were gonna bring somepony with you this time!” Her voice is hoarse, doll-like, high pitched and delicate. It was unexpected, but not particularly unwelcome.

Carrie slaps me on the back, nudging me forward. “Go on ‘n talk t’ the nice mare. She don’t bite. That’s mah job.”

“Ow… alright.” I shift, feeling a slight pang in the impact zone of her hoof. That metal really hurts. I slowly approach the pegasus ghoul, sighing as I reach the counter. “Hi. You um… you seem… familiar somehow. Can I get your name?”

Her eyes shift, still crooked, but noticeably more focused on me. “I’m Ditzy Doo. Everypony calls me Derpy, though. And don’t worry, I know exactly who you are.” She pushes the tip of her hoof into my snout, giving me a warm smile. “Even if you don’t. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cake.”

For some odd reason, hearing this from her didn’t particularly alarm me. She felt friendly, more than that, like I’d somehow known her before. “Did… Carrie tell you about me?” Pushing her hoof down, I look back at her. The augmented alicorn seemed to be sorting through various bits and bobs on the shelves. Things Derpy had clearly laid out.

“Oh, her? No, we know each other because I’m a traveling merchant. She uh… pays me to bring her some high-potency chems.” She sighs, “But… that’s not important! Can I get a good look at you, sweetheart?”

I look back at Derpy, getting a little closer to the counter. “I… I guess?”

She cups a hoof under my chin, carefully, looking me over. “You look just like him, you know? I can see it in your eyes. I can see behind them, too…” She gives me a careful smile, “you’re looking for him, aren’t you?”

“I… yes?” I didn’t really understand what she was saying, but I could piece together what she was asking. “Do you know where he is?”

“That’s a tough question to answer, muffin!” She rubs my cheek, then withdraws her hoof. “But, I doooo know where you can look to find him.” She pulls out two small, golden, what look to be business cards or tickets, and lays them before me. “In the old center district of the Empire, there’s an underground club. On the night of Hearth’s Warming Eve, a show is meant to be going on there. There’s gonna be a pony there. You’ll know her when you see her.”

I take the tickets, nodding and tucking them into my suit. “Uh… thanks. Shit, okay, I’d better get some kind of prep done then. Do you have any holobooks on Magic Theory?”

“Gimme that dingy old rifle and I’ll take a look!” She holds out her hooves to receive it. I hand it over without a shred of hesitation, and she lobs it under the counter. Afterwards, she sorts through an unzipping portfolio full of holotapes. Humming all the while. She picks a few, and lays them out on the counter. “That all for you, muffin?”

“Should be!” I take the tapes and stuff them in my saddle bags.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” She smacks herself on the head with a hoof, before going behind the counter once again. She retrieves a long, soft case of some kind, with a strap on the top. “Don’t open this until right before you go to the club. It’s your Hearth’s Warming gift!”

“Um… o-kay…” I take the case and sling it over my body.

Carrie approaches, sort of pushing me aside. Oddly gentle about it. “Hey filly, y’got what Ah asked for?”

The gray mare gives a somewhat displeased glance, her crossed eyes shifting worriedly. “Yes, Carrie, I got your special batch.” Sighing, she reaches under the counter. Pulling up a leather sack with her teeth, she sets it on the wood between us. “This formula is more potent than most, so try to only use it when you know you’ll be a few days without something.”

Carrie pulls out her caps pouch, handing it over. I caught something in her eyes. Disgust? Self-Loathing. It completely overrides the big, rotten smile on her face. That lack of light, it struck something deep inside me. “Thanks, Derpy.” Her voice seems… droopy. Melancholic. Like her singing.

“You’re welcome, sugar.” She pats one of Carrie’s metal hooves. I watch as Carrie takes her supplies, and leaves swiftly. She barely waits for me outside. I let out a sigh, adjusting my “Hearth’s Warming gift” over my body, and making for the door. “Hey, Cake?” Derpy calls for me.

I look over my shoulder, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“When you find Tex. Can you tell him I said hi? I miss him. I miss him a lot.” I did know her. And she knew me.

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Hours of swimming through ice-cold water piping. I eventually found myself under a maintenance hole. A drain cover. Like a gigantic iron coin. I slam my hoof against the underside, sending the massive piece of steel high into the air. I was out of the tunnel. I was in the Crystal Empire. I had to be. My mood skyrocketed, and I started climbing out of the hole, turning the snow under me into slush. As my mane dropped in front of my face, I felt something cold press against my forehead. A gun barrel. “Uncover yourself.” Son of a bitch. I spit my rebreather onto the ground and use a hoof to move my mane from my face. Glancing up, I get a visual. A crystal guard. A unicorn of gleaming gemstone, clad in pyrite-esque armor plates. He wielded a spear that split into a gun barrel. “Declare yourself a Raider or visitor. Choose wisely.”

Damnit. Of course the Stranger puts me in this position. Another test, no doubt. But I can pass this one. This is the question I’ve asked myself my whole life. I stare the stallion down, feeling my heart leap into my throat. I slowly shake my head. “I’m no Raider, sir.”Another guard offers him an odd looking tool, but he waves it away. Pulling his spear back, he offers me a hoof. He smiles. A real smile. Kindness I’ve only seen twice before. My mother, and Cake. “Welcome to the Crystal Empire, son. Make yourself at home.”