Magitank - Chapter 2

“We’re getting ready to search Outer Canterlot for survivors.” Captain Pipsqueak poked his head into Greenhorn’s tent. “You’re welcome to come along, if you feel up for it. We need all the help we can get.”

“Sure!” the colt said, jumping out of his cot. He winced as his injured leg hit the ground, but tried to mask it with a smile. “Anything I can do to help.”

“...Alright,” the captain said. “We’re going to take along one of the tanks in case of any trouble. I want you to ride along with Dess inside it since technically you shouldn’t be walking around. We’ll be leaving soon, so get ready.”

Greenhorn followed the captain out of the tent and into the now-bustling camp. It had only been a few hours since they had all fought raiders, but everypony already seemed raring to leave again. He watched as several of them left the captain’s tent.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice called from behind. He turned to see Fleethoof stuffing a canteen into his saddlebag. “Did the captain just try to rope you into helping search the ruins?”

“Actually, I wanted to come along,” Greenhorn said. “I just want to help out, if I can.”

“Well, you can’t,” Fleethoof said.

“What? Why not?” Greenhorn frowned. “The captain said we’d need help. I’m helping.”

“Tough. You’re still injured, and it’s a long walk on a bad leg. Go lie back down.”

“He said that I’d ride over in the tank with Dess.”

Fleethoof scoffed, hiding a scowl. “Fine,” he said. “It’s your leg. At least go top off your canteen and stay hydrated. There’s a well in the captain’s tent, but I’d hurry. Dess isn’t known for her patience.”

Greenhorn nodded, and trotted over to the captain’s tent. Just in the few moments he wasn’t looking, everypony had cleared out of the camp, undoubtedly ready for the trek to Canterlot. He poked his head into the largest tent. Inside, the captain was standing in front of a large table that took up most of the space. He had several maps in front of him, but was looking towards a phonograph player sitting on the corner of the table. The rest of the tent was taken up by a cot and a small water well, with a narrow space between them to walk through.

“Sir?” the colt said, making the captain jump slightly.

“Oh, hello,” he said, and started shuffling through the papers lying on the table. “I wanted to double check something on a map before we headed out. They’re less than accurate now, but still very much useful. What did you need?”

“I just wanted to fill up my canteen,” Greenhorn said, walking up towards to the table. He was half distracted by the phonograph. “Medic’s orders. What’s this for?”

“It’s nothing important, just sentimental,” the captain said. He cleared his throat and smiled. “Go ahead and get some water. Any survivors we find will be pretty dehydrated, so I hope it’ll be put to use.”

“The colt returned his smile and levitated his canteen. The well was near full, and he wouldn’t even have had to use his magic to retrieve water if he’d wished. The water was crystal clear, and looked to have no traces of debris. He asked aloud why that was as he capped off the now full canteen.

“The well was dirty when we arrive, so I purified it,” a mare’s voice came from just behind him. Greenhorn turned and found himself face to face with Dess.

“Gah!” he yelled, dropping his canteen. A soft blue glow surrounded it just before it would have hit the ground. Dess levitated it to the colt’s side and attached it to a clip on his vest.

“Water’s an important resource now. Don’t waste it,” she said. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Sure...” Greenhorn said, then followed her out of the tent.

She cantered briskly to the outskirts of the camp, stopping every dozen or so steps to ensure the colt kept up. He did, for the most part, though his leg was burning slightly when he approached the tank. He hesitated. Up close, the vehicle seemed much more imposing. It was easily three times his height in size, and even the treads on its sides were bigger than him.

“Have you ever ridden in a tank before?” Dess asked, watching the colt’s stare.

“Yeah- er, yes, ma’am,” he said, still gazing up at the sight before him.

“Then you know that you enter through a hatch on top, correct?” she asked. “How much help do you need?”

“None,” Greenhorn said. He approached the side of the tank. Starting from the treads, he got a foothold and climbed up to reach a small ladder near the top. He took it slow, not wanting to aggravate his injury. When he reached the top, a hatch opened with a blue glow. The colt slipped inside.

The inside was more spacious than the tanks at the academy, and he could nearly stand up to his full height before feeling the ceiling through his mane. He squinted, trying to get a decent look at his surroundings through the dark of the tank’s interior. As if on cue, a small light flicked on overhead. Towards the front, he could now see a pair of seats in front of the controls, one of which was occupied. The pony in front turned around.

“Get up here,” Dess said, “and we’ll get going.”

“Wait,” he said, confused. “Weren’t you just outside?”

“I was,” she said. “Then I thought it might be nice to get out of the dust. Have a seat.”

“I thought you could only get in from the hatch,” the colt said, mostly to himself, as he climbed into the front.

Dess ignored him, turning her attention towards the tank’s controls. She flipped several of many switches, and the vehicle rumbled to life. More dull light flooded the tank as heavy iron blinds angled outwards in front of her, revealing the landscape through a thick layer of glass.

“Get a good look,” she said, fiddling with more controls. “I’ll have to lower that when we arrive. When we’re attacked, I don’t want to be shot.”

“How do you know that they’ll attack?” Greenhorn asked, cocking his head.

“Trust me,” Dess said. “They’ve given us trouble before we found you, but their last attack was more focused. We’ve riled them up, and they won’t leave us alone if we’re a threat.” The tank shook and lurched forward and a rhythmic, metallic clicking came from below.

“Oh,” the colt said, and gazed out of the window. He chuckled softly to himself.

“What’s the joke?” Dess asked.

“Nothing,” he said, and sighed. “The world’s really changed, hasn’t it?”

“Excellent observation,” she said, completely deadpan. “What tipped you off?”

“We’re just taking a trip to Outer Canterlot and we have to worry about being attacked, and the landscape. Everything’s just... grey. The sky, the ground, and everything’s covered in ash and dust. I could believe it was snow if I didn’t know better.”

“I know,” she said, surprisingly genuine. “When the meteors came, the sun was completely blotted out. Who can say when it’ll clear up? Could be in a few weeks. Could be in a few decades.”

“That long?!” Greenhorn said, looking horrified.

“Maybe,” Dess said, and shrugged. “If it helps, just remember what the captain’s always saying.”

“What’s that?”

“‘As long as there’s a single life, there’s hope for the future.’ It’s a nice little mantra,” she said.

“You really believe that?” the colt asked.

“No,” Dess said. “I think it’s a load of horseapples.”

“What? Then why-”

“It’s a nice mantra,” she said. “I might not believe it, but I know that hope can be a powerful motivator.”

“So,” Greenhorn said, rubbing his head, “just be optimistic?”

“If it helps,” Dess said. She levitated the colt’s radio from his vest pocket. “Which reminds me, I need to borrow this.”

“Hey, wait, what are you doing?”

She didn’t respond, bringing the radio to her horn. A bright blue spark flew into the box, and the radio blared white noise for a few seconds, then fell silent. She then dropped it back into the colt’s seat.

“There,” she said. “Now you can’t cause any more damage with that thing.”

“What did you do?”

“A simple enchantment,” she said. “Now, when you use it, only other radios that have that exact same enchantment will pick up a signal. In other words, just the Timbers, and no one else.”

“Oh,” he said, pocketing the radio. “Thanks.”

She flipped a couple of switches, and the tone of the tank’s rumblings lowered. “We’re starting to get close to Canterlot, how’s your head?”

“Well enough to walk,” Greenhorn said, poking his leg gingerly. “Wait, my head?”

“You were hit hard enough to be knocked unconscious,” Dess said. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine, as far as I know,” he said. “Fleethoof looked over me pretty thoroughly.”

“I see,” she said. “So you’d say that he knew what he was doing?”

“Yeah,” Greenhorn said, thinking back. “I mean, I think so. I wasn’t awake for most of it. Why? I figured you pretty much knew everypony with the captain.”

“I do,” she said. “However, I met Fleethoof after the meteors, and I only knew of one pony with that name prior. He was far from being a medic. I only want to make sure he knows what he’s doing.”

“Alright,” he said with a shrug. “You could always ask him.”

“Thank you for your wisdom” Dess said, reverting back to her dully sarcastic tone. She levitated a small crate from somewhere behind her, producing a gleaming orange gem from it.

“What’s that?” Greenhorn asked. He watched as she floated it into an opening in the ceiling.

“It’s a topaz,” she replied. She slid a cover over the slot, concealing it from view. “I enchanted this one myself. Consider it a precaution.”

Greenhorn started to ask another question, but was interrupted by the tank coming to an abrupt stop.

“We’re here,” Dess said. “The others will arrive soon, and you’ll want to be there when they gather. I’ve got other preparations to make.”

The colt nodded, then climbed back out through the tank as Dess powered down the engine. He slid out of the exit hatch and took in his surroundings. Outer Canterlot had looked different from afar. Up close, he could clearly see each home and building in ruins. Splintered wooden supports lay broken all around, and assorted bits of roofing and walls peppered the areas that weren’t covered in dust. Rocks ranging from pebble sized to tank sized dotted the landscape. Dess was moving around several of the larger rocks with her magic, and Greenhorn tried not to think about how she slipped by him unnoticed again.

A small group of about a half dozen ponies gathered around Captain Pipsqueak, and the colt started towards them. He filled in a gap next to Fleethoof, who shot him an annoyed glance before turning his attention to the captain.

“Welcome to the town of Outer Canterlot, everypony,” the captain said to the group. “You all know what to do. This area will be something of a base of operations. If you find any survivors, bring them here, and if there’s any trouble from the raiders, fall back to this location. Fortifications are being built up as we speak, courtesy of Lieutenant Dess. Also, keep an eye out for any salvageable supplies as well. I don’t like scavenging, but we need all we can get.”

“Sir,” somepony Greenhorn didn’t recognize said. “With respect, this town was right next to an impact point from a meteor. Do you really think anypony’s still alive here?”

“Of course I do,” Captain Pipsqueak said without hesitation. “Somepony’s alive in this place somewhere, and unless someone finds them, they won’t be for much longer. We’re the only ones willing and able to try, so it’s our responsibility.”

“You’ve said that before,” came the standoffish reply. “It always ends the same way. The only two survivors we’ve found haven’t even been in cities.”

The captain gave an inward sigh, glancing towards the ruins before turning his attention back to the stallion.

“I’m well aware of that, Sergeant Clockwork,” he said, “but until we’ve at least searched, we can’t know that nopony survived. And to die alone after living through what’s happened? That’s not something I’d wish on anyone.

“So, please, if for nothing other than the sake of being thorough.” Pipsqueak looked down at the comparatively smaller pony and smiled. The sergeant stared up at his captain for a few moments with a look of disapproval. Eventually, he gave a small grunt of acceptance.

“Excellent,” the captain said, and looked over the rest of the group. “Remember, stay in groups of two in case of any trouble. As much as I’d like to cover ground quickly, safety is a priority.” He looked over at Greenhorn, who returned his smile. “You should stick with Fleethoof. Follow his lead, and retreat if trouble shows up.”

“Yes sir!” the colt said, and gave a salute. Fleethoof paused for a moment and then did the same.

“Alright then,” Captain Pipsqueak said. “Barring an attack, meet back here if you find anything or anypony. Let’s move out!”

The group of soldiers scattered, heading into different parts of the city in pairs. Fleethoof beckoned Greenhorn to follow, and they started off in their own direction.

“You know,” Greenhorn heard Dess say in the distance, “you could have just ordered him to search.”

“I know,” the captain said, “but I won’t lead like that.”

* * *

An hour passed with Greenhorn and Fleethoof searching every nook and cranny they could find. Most of the buildings in Outer Canterlot had been completely demolished, with only broken down walls hinting at where a structure used to be. Some basements and cellars, on the other hand, were still mostly intact. However, despite what the captain had said, no survivors had been found.

“What did we really expect?” Fleethoof said. He kicked a stone down the stairs of a ruined cellar. “The captain’s nice, but he sure is an idiot sometimes. Nothing could have survived through this.”

“We survived through this,” Greenhorn said.

I wasn’t. I’m willing to bet that you weren’t either.”

“Still, we don’t know for sure, right?” the colt said. He shifted a pile of debris with magic to reveal a set of stairs, then smiled at his partner before descending.

“Maybe you don’t,” Fleethoof said under his breath.

A sour odor assaulted the colt’s senses, and his face fell as his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the cellar. Half the room had collapsed, and rubble piled past the ceiling. The rest was mostly undamaged, and looked to be a storeroom of some kind. He saw containers of food behind shattered glass cabinet doors.

His attention, however, was directed towards a pegasus filly lying on the floor. Her hind legs were buried in the mess of debris, and a dark stain pooled beneath her. Her hooves were bruised and raw, and most of the feathers from her wings lay on the ground around her. Her cutie mark depicted a parasol over a cloud.

“I figured as much,” came Fleethoof’s voice from behind. “This is the closest you’ll find to a ‘survivor,’” he said. “It looks like she was here when Canterlot was hit, then got herself buried in debris. She probably bled out trying to free herself.

“But, yeah,” he continued on a higher note. “Let’s check out this food. Smells rotted, but maybe some of it’s good enough to bring back.”

Greenhorn sighed. This wasn’t the first of such scenes that he’d seen since he arrived, and didn’t expect it to be the last. He couldn’t tell from first glance due to the thick layer of dust covering the ground, but the ruins had been littered with corpses. Ponies had been just going about their business, and died on the spot.

“Shards,” Fleethoof said, causing the colt to look up. “It’s all perishable stuff. The refrigeration died completely and it all spoiled.”

Greenhorn took a deep breath. “It’s alright,” the colt said. He gave a small smile. “We’ll just keep going. We haven’t searched everything yet, right?”

“Really?” came the reply. “I can admire your attitude, but let’s face facts here. This town is empty, aside from ponies like little Deadfeather here. There aren’t any survivors. You might as well just accept that. Supplies are going to be the most that we’ll be able to find here, if there’s even anything usable in this mess.”

“Not until we know for sure,” Greenhorn said, as cheerfully as he could muster. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

The colt ascended the stairs back towards the surface, hearing Fleethoof give a heavy sigh behind him. He looked around, regaining his bearings.

“We came from there,” he said to himself. He could see the fortifications that Dess had been building from rubble in the distance. “So,” he turned to look the other direction, “this way, right?”

“Yeah,” Fleethoof said.

Greenhorn started towards the far side of the ruins, with Fleethoof following behind. He cleared the way into several other buried rooms with his magic, to little avail. The first contained only ruined tables and another body, an earth pony colt with a violin cutie mark. The others weren’t much different. There was an artist’s studio, with an elderly mare lying on the ground in what the colt had hoped was paint, and a hatter’s workshop with a plump, short stallion pinned to the wall. Greenhorn’s stomach turned, and he fought from using what little food he’d eaten.

“I’m sorry,” Fleethoof said. He patted the colt on the back. “This really isn’t a job for somepony like you.”

“I’ve just never seen... There has to be something here other than more bodies,” Greenhorn said. He took a deep breath to calm his stomach.

“Why don’t we just head back? This is a lost cause anyway.”

“Hold on,” the colt said. He looked up and pointed at a silhouette in the distance. “What’s that?”

“It’s just... uh... Well, obviously it’s... I’m not sure,” Fleethoof said. He give a small shrug.

“Let’s get a closer look,” Greenhorn said.

The figure in the distance became more clear as they walked. It looked like a pony, albeit a very large pony. When Greenhorn was close enough, he could make out a tall mare with a long, flowing mane.

“Oh, it’s just a statue,” Fleethoof said.

Greenhorn sighed. The huge pony was made entirely of blackened stone, and looked down on the two with a caring gaze. At the foot of the statue was a small plaque, which read “Our beloved Empress.” Fleethoof scoffed upon noticing this.

“How’s this still standing?” Greenhorn asked. “Everything else is ruined.”

“It’s probably enchanted stone,” Fleethoof said. “She would have wanted it to be built to last.”

“I think I’ve seen it before,” Greenhorn said. He glanced around the area. The space surrounding the statue was fairly clear, and the colt figured it used to be a courtyard of some kind.

“What’s that smell?” Fleethoof asked. He stuck nose in the air and sniffed a few times.. “Is that sugar? Or sweets?”

“Oh, no,” Greenhorn said. He ran off. “No, no, no!”

“That’d be a ‘no,’ then?” the colt vaguely heard Fleethoof’s voice behind him, just before he ducked down a set of nearby stairs.

Wrecked shelves of various candies were scattered about the room, which was in surprisingly good shape, though Greenhorn didn’t care about that. His legs felt heavy as he looked towards the far corner of the room, where the bodies of two mares lay in an embrace. Vines covered in numerous, blue flowers wrapped around them, almost hiding them completely, but the colt instantly recognized their respective cutie marks of a lyre and three candies.

“Wow, this place must be pretty sturdy. We might even be able to stay here if we get tired of- hey! Who are you?” Fleethoof’s voice felt far away. “What are you doing to him?!”

A crash from behind pulled the colt from the sight. He turned to see Fleethoof pinning a young mare to the ground. She stared up at Greenhorn fearfully.

“Don’t go near them!” she said. She pointed towards the bodies. “They were sick. A disease killed them, and it’ll kill you too if you get close!”

Greenhorn felt something tugging him towards the stairs leading out, and only then realized that the mare was trying to move him with her magic. He walked over to her and helped her up.

“They were sick?” Greenhorn asked. He looked back toward the bodies in the corner.

“Yes,” the mare said. “It’s those flowers. They’re... dangerous.”

“Flowers?” Fleethoof said. He scoffed inwardly. “What are they, poison? Plants can’t hurt you just from being near you.” He started towards the bodies to get a better look, but staggered. The mare strained to hold him back, her horn glowing brightly.

“You can’t... go near them!” she said through gritted teeth. Fleethoof pushed against her magic, managing to pull his hoof up a few inches before his knee was pulled to the ground with a dull thud.

“Alright then, fine!,” Fleethoof said. He rubbed his now-sore leg. “What’s so dangerous about that plant anyway?”

“They aren’t normal flowers,” the mare said. “They... grow inside you, and when they’re ready to bloom, they’ll... they....” She trailed off and gestured towards the corner.

Fleethoof sighed. “How about this, then. We can talk about this someplace safer. If you come with us back to camp, there aren’t any creepy plants there.” He looked over towards Greenhorn. “Right?”

The colt said nothing, and continued to stare at the two mares in the corner.

“Greenhorn!” Fleethoof clapped his hooves near the colt’s ear. “What’s wrong with you? Let’s take her back to camp.”

“S-sorry,” the colt said. He shook his head. “Let’s get going.” He followed Fleethoof up the stairs to the surface, and the mare trailed behind.

“That statue will make a decent landmark,” Fleethoof said. He gestured towards the stone empress. “I’d like to get another look at those flowers, and that room was in good shape. Probably reinforced, is my guess. It’s worth at least bringing up to the captain.”

Greenhorn nodded, looking towards the statue. Vaguely, he saw something move in the corner of his eye. He opened his mouth to speak just as several loud reports split the air.

“You won’t keep us here!” a voice shouted somewhere close by, followed by a hail of gunfire. Greenhorn ducked back into the basement of the sweet shop, pulling the mare down with him. He gave a small yelp as something crashed into the dirt in front of him, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the hoof of the statue. As the dust cleared, the colt could see a scattered pile of rubble where the statue had been. Three soft clicks sounded in the distance, followed by a disappointed groan.

“No more bullets?” Something metallic hit the ground with a clatter.

“That... That there was a statue!” another voice said in a thick accent that Greenhorn guessed was Appleloosan. “Y’all just emptied yer gun on a statue!”

“Yeah,” the first voice said, “but they won’t follow us now!”

Greenhorn slowly poked his head up to get a look at his assailants. The dust had started to clear, and he could see two earth ponies standing side by side. They stared down at what was left of the empress’ statue.

“Who are they?” the mare asked in a hushed whisper.

“I don’t know,” Greenhorn said, matching her volume. “I guess they’re raiders. They’re definitely not with us, right?” He looked around, but only saw the mare. “Fleethoof?” he said a little louder than he’d intended, but the medic was nowhere to be seen.

“They’re coming this way!” the mare said. “Did they see us?”

“I don’t know! Uh...” Greenhorns mind raced, and the two raiders came closer. His eyes fell on the broken stone hoof in front of him. He heard somepony scoff.

“It don’t make a lick of sense why I got paired off with y’all,” the Appleloosan said. “What’s this ‘Phalanx’ fella’ want from me, anyhow? He could’a grabbed that bauble without mah help.”

“I don’t know,” the other pony said, “but if it means never seeing the inside of this hospital again, I don’t really care.”

“That’s real helpful,” the Appleloosan said. “Y’all could at least have the decency to drop the act. I already know that you-”

“Hey!” the other pony said. He stared straight at Greenhorn. "Who are you?! Come on out, ya little runt!” He started towards the colt with a crazed grin.

Greenhorn didn’t think. He ran from his hiding spot, scooped up the statue’s hoof with his magic, and lobbed it as hard as he could. The raider ducked and pressed his chest to the ground. He looked up to see the hoof sail over his head harmlessly. The Appleloosan who was standing behind him, however, did not, and a sickening crack resonated through the air before he slumped to the ground.

The raider snarled. He spun around and reared up his hind legs. Before Greenhorn could react, a sharp blow to his chest knocked the wind from him. He fell backwards, and for a split second, he was confused when he didn’t hit the ground. Then he remembered that he was still standing in front of the staircase.

He grunted as he crashed into the uneven slope, sliding downwards as each step smacked against his back. When he came to a rest against the cold floor, his entire body ached. His eyes snapped open as the sound of heavy hoofbeats followed him into the basement.

“You got some nerve, runt,” the raider said. He walked slowly down the stairs, emphasizing each step with a loud stomp. “You hurt my friend back there, and I’ve got a problem with that.”

Greenhorn tried to think of something, anything to use, and it occurred to him just how little he knew about fighting. He saw the mare’s fearful eyes staring at him from behind the stairs, and pulled himself up. A pale green glow surrounded one of the intact jars of sweets on the wall.

The raider stared into the colt’s eyes. He tilted his head in confusion when he realized the colt wasn’t looking directly back at him. Just as he turned his head to see where the colt was looking, a jar crashed into his head, shattering on impact. He screamed in rage, clutching his face as blood seeped through his mane.

Greenhorn wasted no time. While the raider was recoiling from the jar, the colt reared up with his back hooves pointed towards his opponent and kicked out hard. He felt his legs smash into the raider, and a shock of pain seared through him. He fell to his side and held his leg. He could vaguely feel a warm wetness near his injury apart from the throbbing.

A few moments passed, and he heard somepony start laughing. The raider stood over him. His eye was closed and half his face had been dyed red, but he was laughing despite it.

“You’re even dumber than I thought,” the raider said. He grinned. “Trying to keep us from escaping on that leg? You’ve got guts, but no brains!” He laughed again.

An idea popped into Greenhorn’s head. He focused, his horn glowing once more. The raider looked around the room, ready to avoid any more flying jars. When none came, he glanced back down at the colt. Greenhorn smiled, and a bright flash of light filled the room.

The raider shouted a string of barely coherent curses. He staggered across the room and lashed out in every direction, desperately trying to land a blow on the colt. He bucked the air and lost his balance, stumbling towards the corner where the two mares lay. Greenhorn blinked the light from his eyes.

“Wait, stop!” he said. The raider kept going and crashed into the corner. He got up, a few stray petals sticking to his coat, and growled. By the time Greenhorn realized he could see again, he was already charging at the colt.

Greenhorn braced himself. He stood on his three good legs, keeping his weight off of his injury, and waited for the impact. Another flash of light filled the room and he heard a whooshing sound. The raider had disappeared.

“W-what...?” he said.

“I... I got him!” Heavy panting came from behind the stairs and the mare staggered out from her hiding place. She gave Greenhorn a small smile before falling to the ground. The colt rushed over to her.

“Are you alright?!” he said. He gave her a nudge.

“What the-? What happened?!” a voice came from above. Greenhorn suddenly remembered the second raider, and readied himself. A figure came down the stairs, and the colt gave a sigh of relief.

“You look like you were run over by a tank!” Fleethoof said. He noticed the mare laying on the floor and rushed over. He placed his hooves on her chest. “Good, she’s still breathing,” he said. “Now, what happened?”

“We were attacked,” Greenhorn said. He gave a ragged cough. “Where were you?!”

“I... I ran,” Fleethoof said. He sighed. “I thought you were right behind me. I stopped to see if you two were keeping up, but I couldn’t find you, so I ran back here. When I saw that dead raider up there, I... You’re okay, though.”

“I guess that explains it,” Greenhorn said. “I heard the gunfire and hid, but they found me. I tried to fight them off, but... didn’t do so well. She saved me.” He winced and clutched his leg.

“Let me see that.” Fleethoof nudged the colt’s hoof aside and took a look at his leg. “You tore it open,” he said. “I need to restitch it, but I don’t have my suture tools. I only brought basic medical supplies.”

“What about her?” Greenhorn nudged the mare. “Can’t you help her first? She collapsed after she cast some kind of spell to get rid of the raider.”

“I don’t know,” Fleethoof said. “I can only assume she collapsed from exhaustion or dehydration. Either way, I can’t help her unless we get back to camp. The best thing to do is wait until she wakes up.

“You, however, I need to help now.” He sifted through his saddlebags, then pulled out a roll of some kind of cloth and a small bottle. “Lie down on your side and hold still. I’m going to clean this and change out the bandages. I’m not letting you leave until we at least do that.”

Greenhorn complied, resting his head on the floor. Fleethoof unwrapped his leg and revealed his injury, which was bleeding freely. The medical pony slipped a sleeve over his hoof and pressed down onto the colt’s leg. He uncapped the bottle, then poured something over the wound. The colt winced. It felt like cold water on his leg, but it burned at the same time. Afterwards, Fleethoof wrapped it with fresh bandages. He pulled the slack on the roll tight before tying it off.

“There,” Fleethoof said. He pulled the sleeve off his hoof and tossed it aside, then put the bottle and what was left of the bandages back into his bags. “Now we can leave. Try not to put weight on that.”

Greenhorn pulled himself up. He could hardly move his leg under the bandages. Fleethoof pulled the mare onto his back and started up the stairs. The colt followed, being sure to only walk with three hooves. When he reached the surface, he heard a groan. The Appleloosan was lying near the broken remains of the empress statue.

“He’s alive?” Fleethoof said. He placed his hoof on the raider’s chest and in front of his face. “Wow, he’s awfully lucky.” He started off. “Let’s get going.”

“Hold on,” Greenhorn said. “Shouldn’t we take him with us?”

“That’s... not a great idea. He’s a raider.”

“A survivor’s a survivor,” Greenhorn said. “Right? Besides, he might not be all that bad.”

“What gives you that idea?” Fleethoof asked.

“Something he said. He didn’t seem to like his partner much, and he mentioned that guy Phalanx. I don’t think he liked working with the raiders.”

Fleethoof bit his lip and took a breath. “Well,” he said. “I guess he wouldn’t be able to do any damage if we restrain him before he wakes up. Who knows, we might even be able to question him a bit.” He paused a moment, then gave Greenhorn an annoyed glare. “How do you expect to carry him?”

“Well, uh...” Greenhorn’s eyes darted around. “Can’t you? Earth ponies are strong, right?”

Fleethoof stared at him. “You do know that I’m a medic, right? I’m not some bodybuilder.”

“We can’t leave him here,” Greenhorn said. “I can’t carry him, and my magic isn’t strong enough to lift a whole pony. I can probably help make him a bit lighter, though.”

Fleethoof sighed. “Fine,” he said. “He doesn’t look that heavy. I can probably get him to the camp, at least.” He took a few breaths, then heaved the raider onto his back along with the mare. He grunted, then started back towards the camp. Greenhorn followed along, his horn glowing as his magic enveloped the load on Fleethoof’s back.

Fleethoof grumbled. “Today is not a great day.”