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“…Salads? Do gecko’s eat salads? Oh! I ate already. Don’t know about Violet, though…” Bakewell puzzled as Trails stopped his self-music and answered. “I guess just give me however much meat you think a gecko eats and I’ll take it over to her and tell her about the bar. We should be able to head out pretty early; how long could a filly eating a salad possibly take, right?”

If Trails obliged, Bakewell would do as she said and bring the food and information to the lizard-mutant unicorn duo.

Trails rummaged in his bag and pulled out a cut of molerat along with Violets unclaimed share of the caps from yesterday, which he handed to Bake. "Tell her the desert salad is great, I had it last night."

Violet just grinned as Bakewell returned with her information and meat. “Oh, I knew about that place, that’s where we’re going! But tell Trails thanks for the meat! I’m sure Liz will love it!” She turned to the golden lizard. “Alright Liz! You can eat by me at the food place, come on!”

With Bakewell following, Violet and Liz went to that tent Violet got the steak from the night before. The stallion working it turned towards the trio as they approached, raising an eyebrow at Violet and her pet gecko, although he didn’t say anything about the two, having already met them the night before. “Hey Mr. Cider! Can you get me one of those desert salad things and a sparkle-cola? Please?” asked the filly as she dumped some caps onto the counter. The stallion simply nodded in affirmation before grabbing and setting a sparkle-cola down in front of the filly, who eagerly floated it up and popped the cap off. As she drank, the stallion went on preparing the salad.

As the filly took a gulp of the drink, she suddenly put a hoof to her chin in thought. “Hmm...if we’re leaving soon, I should probably go and grab my stuff while he prepares that. Can you watch Liz for a few minutes Bakey?” she asked as she floated the gecko up to a chair and set the meat down in front of her, before waiting for Bake’s reply. Assuming it was a yes, she’d wave goodbye to the two and set off back to the motel, leaving Bakewell with the surreal image of a gecko eating off of a table.

While the filly was gone, Bakewell would find another stallion entered the tent...A rather weary looking one. He had bags under his eyes, and bags under those. His clothes were worn and dirty, and his stance was that of someone who was pretty much tired and broken. And to top it all off, he visibly winced as he sat down at a stool. All in all, he looked like shit. He mumbled something about not being able to sit straight for months, and asked the pony running the tent for some alcohol, any alcohol.

Bakewell followed the two and watched the purple filly eagerly order. Something was to be said about Mr. Cider’s hospitality; not many establishments would be likely to welcome a wild animal into their establishment. The mare was intently watching the stallion at work, trying to identify what ingredients he was making use of. If Trails liked these things, maybe she could eventually find the right ingredients and make some. It’d be more reliable than the guessing she had done a few nights before at the very least.

“Yeah, okay.” She answered inattentively, too focused elsewhere to really realize what Violet was asking until the filly had already left. “No, wait! I’m not sure…” She trailed off, lowering her eyes to the gecko. It… seemed to be behaving.

When her attention shifted to the newcomer, Bakewell couldn’t help but wince. This poor pony had clearly been through a lot. Like a lot lot lot. The mare hesitated for a moment before getting up, digging into her saddlebag, tossing the twenty-five caps she had “earned” the day before onto the bar next to the new entrant, and addressing Mr. Cider.

“I know it isn’t much. But please put it towards whatever that stallion orders…”

The stallion just stared at the caps for several moments, a small smile appearing on his face as he realized that something...GOOD just happened.

“I...I...I don’t know what to say...Uh...thank you...This is...this is the first good thing that’s happened to me in....months.”

Mr. Cider simply looked at the caps, shrugged, and took them before grabbing a bottle of whiskey for the stallion, who popped the top off with his teeth and took a large swig of it.

“Oh, no problem, sir. Anypony would have done it; I just wish that I’d had more to give.” She replied, returning his small smile with the most encouraging grin she could muster as she watched the stallion decap the bottle with his teeth.

Months? Months was… a long time for nothing bad to happen.

“Come on now, things can’t stay sour for much longer! But hey, if you need somepony to lend an ear to your woes, I’m not leaving for a short while. I might be broke, but I still have my hearing!"

The stallion just sighed as he took another swig of his whiskey, turning to Bakewell with tired, sunken eyes. “Maybe, but I doubt it. Nothing’s ever gone right for me since that incident by Fillydelphia....with that....damned....demon filly...” he muttered before shivering and taking a long gulp of his whiskey to drive the memories away....Until a familiar filly walked into the tent.

“Hey Bakey? Do you know if they sell any weapons here? I want to see if I can find some nice shiny knifes, this cleaver isn’t a very good weapon honestly.”

The stallion’s ears shot up and his eyes widened in pure, unbridled horror. Slowly, very slowly, he turned around to see a glowing-eyed filly starring at him, cutely drinking sparkle-cola through a straw.

“Hi!” greeted the filly, using her cutest grin. The stallion’s only reaction was stammered shock and fear.

“Y-y-y-y-you! N-no!” stuttered the stallion as Violet merely watched, sucking on her straw. A half-full whiskey bottle went flying towards the filly, who simply leaned to the side to avoid it, before deftly dodging several plates that the stallion flung in her direction. The stallion only seemed to grow more frenzied and frightened as leaped off his seat and ran out of the tent, throwing anything he could get his hooves on at the filly in an attempt to keep her away, no matter how unnecessary it was. Reaching the exit, he abandoned all shred of sanity as he galloped away as fast as his legs could take him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“KEEP AWAY FROM ME YOU DEMON FILLY! KEEP AWAAAAAAAAAAAAY!” he screamed as he promptly left Novac behind, most likely waking up anypony who wasn’t up yet.

Violet merely watched the stallion flee, sucking her straw, before walking back towards Bakewell and Liz, sitting at the seat her salad was placed at. Taking one more sip, she set the drink down and turned to Bakewell quizzically.

“So...who was that?”

“Demon filly..?” Bakewell asked quietly. She heard Violet’s voice and turned her head to answer the filly.

And then everything stopped making sense as a bottle flew past, obviously intended for Violet’s head. Dishes and utensils soon started a personal barrage against the young unicorn.

“Hey, Stop that!” Bakewell complained, turning to stare back at the stallion only to freeze up upon catching a glimpse of his face. Those eyes! Bakewell wasn’t sure she had seen so much horror in a single face for a long time. She could do little other than slowly stare with wide eyes as the Stallion eventually ran off screaming.

“You tell me…” Bakewell muttered before turning her gaze to Violet. The fillies eyes were still more than a little unsettling, but to Bakewell’s credit she managed to hold a stare directly into them.

“I think you need to tell me about Fillydelphia, and what you were doing to ponies while there.”

Bakewell didn’t even consider that the stallion might be lying. You didn’t just fake that much fear.

Violet starred at Bakewell for several moments, as if she was starring into the mare’s soul...Which she might as well be.

“Alright, but let me eat this salad first. I don’t think Mr. Cider would be interested in this.”

Cider, to his credit, didn’t seem that shocked about all of this. Perhaps he was just used to crazy stuff happening or something like that. Regardless, he just shrugged and shook his head.

And Violet, to her credit, managed to wolf down the meal in seconds. Perhaps even ten seconds flat. The filly was a quick eater, that’s for sure.

So, the filly, the mare, and the gecko were soon exiting the tent, Violet leading them the long way back to the motel.

“Well, I know you know who Slavers are, you were in Stableton when they attacked, right? Well, attacking towns isn’t their usual way of getting lots of slaves. They usually send teams to track down helpless, defenseless, and alone ponies, capture them, and round them up in big camps. One of these camps was operating near Fillydelphia, and I got in by pretending to be a blind filly looking for her mom.” a feral and vicious grin made its way onto her face. “They didn’t suspect a thing. By morning, every one of those evil slavers was dead. Save for one. Some of them, I snapped their necks, others, I hung them with rope. Some of them I even ripped open an artery connected to their heart and watched them die from massive internal bleeding. And their leader? The monster that ordered all of it? I broke every bone in his body. Slowly. He begged the entire time.” she spat out, large amounts of venom in every word she spoke. The grin had vanished, replaced with a scowl of pure rage. “They had dozens of poor, and abused slaves all around the camp. And they were planning on getting more. I didn’t let any of them live, I gave them just as much mercy as they gave their slaves....Well, besides one. There’s one I let live, although not out of mercy or anything. Him” The grin returned as she glanced back at the direction the stallion ran off to, her trademark grin twisting into something...disturbing.

“He was the worst. Do you know what he’d do to the attractive mares they’d capture? He’d rape them. Repeatedly. He even broke some of their bones doing that, trust me, I looked. The night I was captured, he was getting ready to...’have fun’, with another mare, one he had already violated enough. I’m not sure she’ll ever recover psychologically...Or any of them will.” she turned to Bakewell, her grin giving a lot of credence to the moniker of ‘demon’. “You know what I did? I made sure he’d never do that to another mare. Ever. Again. If I wasn’t choking him, I’m pretty sure he would've screamed so loud we could of heard him from here. And after that? I left him unconscious in the cage after everypony else was dead, leaving him locked in there as I lead the slaves to safety. I was hoping he’d die a slow, incredibly painful death via starvation, even though he deserved much worse. However, given that I didn’t have enough time to sit there and slowly skin him alive I decided it was enough. Shame that he escaped, although given his condition I doubt he’ll last much longer.”

Bakewell had spent the time gained by Violet completing her meal in an attempt to mentally steel herself for whatever information the unicorn was going to give her. The filly seemed to somehow take forever with her meal while at the same time whoofing it down in seconds. It was okay though, Bakewell was the older mare she could handle anything any younger filly threw at her, no matter how strange or mutated said filly was!

That said, Bakewell wasn’t completely sure on what to expect as the trio left the tent and began heading back to the motel. It would obviously be terrible. Ponies didn’t react in such ways to things that weren’t terrible. Violet’s gaze inside the tent had done little other than solidify the beige pony’s unease. It had felt almost like the unicorn was testing or judging her. She had expected the explanation to be bad, but hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

As the story started, Bakewell’s face went through several emotions. The first was anger. Anger at the mentions of slavers, anger at Stableton. Even that ever-present anger at herself that was starting to become a trusted companion decided to hop along for the ride. The anger grew as their villainous ways were further described. Preying not only on small towns but also individuals. Slavers were without a doubt the absolute worst of pony-kind. She was so caught up in her anger that she didn’t catch the viciousness of Violet’s grin until it was already too late.

For a fleeting moment, Bakewell was happy to hear about death. For one small fraction of a second, the older mare felt something not completely dissimilar to pride for the young filly managing to take down an entire camp of slavers on her own.

The second quickly passed as Violet began actively describing the ways she had gone about killing the monsters. Bakewell had expected bullets or stabbing. Something quick. The descriptions she got were far worse. Snapping their necks? Sure. That was relatively painless, right? Hanging, hanging was overdoing it a tad. Ripping an artery and not only letting them slowly and painfully bleed to death but actually watching them do so? That wasn’t something you did to ponies. Nopony should have to suffer something like that, not even monsters who deserved such a fate. And the leader- Oh the things she did to the leader! Bakewell had to sit down as she tried to prevent her legs from shaking in the face of the filly’s rage. She surely looked ridiculous, almost cowering from a small unicorn probably half her age. It somehow got worse when the smile happened. The terrible, disturbing, almost venomous grin. If the facial expression contained any mirth at all it was the wrong kind of mirth. The worst kind of mirth. Bakewell didn’t want Violet to continue. She wanted to be back at the motel, having never followed Violet.

The emotional earth pony’s hind legs subconsciously tightened as Violet continued to retell the horrors Bakewell had so foolishly asked about. When she had looked at that stallion earlier she had seen a perfectly fine soul undergoing hard times. Had he really repeatedly raped ponies? Broken their bones in the process? How did that even work? Bakewell was not anywhere even close to an expert on such acts. How abusive did one have to be to break bones that wa- the grin was getting worse! Stop grinning stop grinning oh sweet Celestia above please just stop grinning.

“Y-y-ou could have j-just killed them…” Bakewell muttered weakly, a forehoof slowly massaging a ring around her throat. She didn’t consider herself a particularly attractive mare, maybe she could count as average on a good day, if she really tried to look good and did all kinds of girly appearance things she rarely worried about. But she wasn’t completely ugly, was she? That stallion, who she had thought so innocent and down on his luck. Would he have taken advantage of her kindness? Asking her to help with something before slapping a slave collar on her and selling her into misery for the sake of a few caps? Would he have done… other things to her first? No, Violet said he couldn’t, whatever the filly had meant by that she had seemed sure. Would he have tried anyway? The tart-marked mare shakily returned to her hooves and walked slightly farther before sitting down again. This was close enough; the group would have to pass by her when they left. She could rejoin them then.

“I’m… I’m going to sit here. For a while. A-alone.” She said, pausing to gulp loudly. “You, uh, you go on ahead. Tell the others I’ll be waiting. M-make sure you thank T-Trails for the meat.”

Teal-ish eyes redirected themselves to the dirty wasteland ground. She wasn’t sure what to feel. She couldn’t bring herself to hate the ex-slaver. He was so broken. So scarred. She couldn’t bring herself to hate him despite what Violet had claimed. No, she didn’t hate him. She was scared of him at the least, disgusted by him at best. She similarly couldn’t hate Violet. There was no denying that the small equine was tainted by the wasteland. A monster in her own right, But Bakewell didn’t want to believe it. The mare wanted to believe that children were safe, that even the wasteland would have enough tact to not drive foals to brutal murder. She wanted Violet’s grin to go back to that cheery expression she so often wore. She wanted the filly to smile happily and just say something like “Gotcha!” or “Heehee, you’re so easy to scare, Bakey! I just made all of that up, I have no idea who that Stallion was!” Even though Bakewell knew that there was no way such a claim would be true. Violet was a terrifying and sick pony. A grotesque murderer for arguably the right cause.

What would Violet do when Bakewell messed up too badly? Doing so was inevitable, only a matter of time. A life full of screw-ups couldn’t just suddenly get better! What fate would be waiting for her? What if- What if the bonesaw hadn’t been a misunderstood joke, like Violet had claimed?

What if it had been a warning?

Trails finished his coffee and headed down to the bar. He was tired of waiting and ready to go, McMaren was calling. Trails turned his slow, lazy trot into a full gallop when he heard someone call out demon mare. The fuck did she do? Sure she has her creepy moments, but demon is pushing it. There was, of course, no questioning who the she was. Here's a hint, it wasn't Bake.

A broken and tired looking stallion stumbled stumbled out of the bar and ran off as best he could with what was clearly barely functioning limbs. Trails stopped to stare at the buck for a few seconds before continuing on his way. He arrived at the bar just in time to her Violets story, and get his blood hot over it. Slaver fucking piece of shit.

Trails pulled out his new .45 and took careful aim at the stumbling stallion. Thanks to Vi's hoofwork his run was more of a clumsy jog. Trails resisted the urge to shoot out the buck's knees and start in on him, he'd been broken enough it was time to be put down. He aimed at the bucks head at pulled the trigger.

(rolled 110)

The slaver's head jerked forward and his body with it as Trails' bullet tore through it. His brains dyed the ground ahead a deep crimson and his body left a skid mark in the road. A few of the towns inhabitants came running out of their homes at the sound of the gunshot, more ran to them. Trails holstered his .45, proud of how the gun had performed on its first run, and turned to the mares sitting at the bar.

"Hope you two are done, cause we're leaving. Now."

Kestrel had left shortly after Trails, after grabbing his gear, and started following the stallions lead; as he had done this entire trip. He had listened to the story of the young mare with the strange eyes without blinking, it was old news to him.

He'd seen worse anyway.

Only thing that got a ruse out of him was when Trails blew the head off of the slaver stallion that had been talking to the mares at the bar.

He blinked.

That business done Kestrel shifted his bulk and began to walk out of the tent. Silently waiting for the others to get moving again, thereafter he would take up his usual spot at the back of the group and start plodding along without a word. As was tradition.

Sky heard the gunshot from outside the bar, She was so close to to the giant Dragon but she turned to look. Outside was trails and he shot a stallion, This can't go well. Might as well get my stuff and get ready to leave, the pony Trails shot might have friends. And they might not be to happy we shot one of their friends, no point in to argue with trails about it. Probably a reason he shot him, if not just along with it.

Sky galloped back to her hotel room, grabbed her saddlebags with her weapons and other stuff. She went back outside to the balcony, to wait for the rest to come out and her to follow them out.

A gunshot. That instantly got Lightning's attention as he walked around the town. Chances are, that was going to cause some trouble in this town and it was time to get out of here. Seeing Sky run past him, he wasn't about to hang around either. Leaping into the air and flying back to the room, he gathered all of his things again and secured the bag on his back. The pegasus didn't waste time to get back to the others, waiting for the order to move out.

Trails walked briskly out of Novac and onto the winding highway that led to New Pegasus. He saw that there was a different pony in the dragon's mouth. He nodded at the sniper, who waved back, before continuing on his way towards the city that rose from the desert like an old world monument to sin. He didn't have any interest in going to the old gambling town, but he knew some of the ponies that traveled with him would be.

Like the sniper from last night promised the road was quiet, a group of dead raiders lie in the road next to a bilboard. They didn't have to look long or hard for the cause, a pony with a guitar and a revolver bigger than Kes' sat on a crate next to a fire only a few minutes up the road, plucking away at some song he'd never heard. The only other landmark of note was the trading post sitting on a overpass just at the exit for Thomasville. Both it and the still smoking city were cordoned off by NLR barricades, and Trails didn't feel like dealing with red tape just to do some trading.

After that the road fell empty and quiet again. Just winding asphalt and the occasional traveling trader. Trails figured that the raiders didn't hit the stretch of pavement much, NLR presence was too strong for it to be safe. He stopped at a fork in the road, one leading to Everfreeside, and by extension the New Pegasus Strip, the other to McMaren.

He cleared his throat and spoke to the group at large, "It's been...interesting traveling with you all these past weeks. I know for one that I'll never forget those brahmin, but this is where out journey ends. I'm not going up to New Pegasus, if you guys want to go on ahead. If you want to tag along to McMaren you're welcome to it too." He paused and looked over his ragged caravan, giving them all a tired smile. "Take a few minutes to decide what you want to do."

Sky followed Trails after the whole thing in Novac, Trails shot a pony and we all left. She didn't get to see inside the giant dragon but she did see a sniper up in the mouth in it, he waved at the group or at trails. Sky waved back at him, didn't matter though. He looked friendly enough, even if he had a sniper rifle pointed down the road to protect the town.

Down the road they went passed a giant billboard, a pony playing a guitar in the side of the road. Sky waved at the guitar play, she heard the tune he was playing. She never heard it before, probably something he made while on his travels.She would have to find this pony later, he even had a revolver, one that was big. Probably a pony not to mess with and he looked to see his part of the wasteland, an old pony who knows how to live out here in the wastes.

A little farther up, the group went to the fork in the road. Sky thought he was still in decision as to where to go,that wasn't the case.

"It's been...interesting traveling with you all these past weeks. I know for one that I'll never forget those brahmin, but this is where out journey ends. I'm not going up to New Pegasus, if you guys want to go on ahead. If you want to tag along to McMaren you're welcome to it too." Sky heard his piece, she could go to New Pegasus to make a fortune. But they probably wouldn't even let her make it to the door, She was as poor as every other pony around. And if that place was the pinnacle of gambling, she would lose all her caps within a heart beat if she lost a game or two.

She could go to New Pegasus later, just a sign of later she should go. Besides, she could come back later when and if she got some more decent armor and some new weapons. And she came with trails, he was the leader of their little group. Seemed wrong to just leave him after all this time, even though it was a short time. A Pegasus knows loyalty, Sky trusts Trails right now. And the rest wont probably leave to New Pegasus, so she needed them to get back to wasteland.

"Im good to travel with you Trails, New Pegasus would probably drain me of my caps." Sky told Trails, plain and simple.

Kira had been following the group quietly ever since their somewhat rushed leave from Novac, still she was not sad to leave that town she did not know why but she just did feel at peace in the town. The quiet road that they had travelled was a nice change to what they had been constantly meeting since they got the the Mohoof.

When they finally reached to cross roads that lead to the two destinations and Trails gave them the options she at start unsure what to do. She had actually planed to get to New Pegasus and Everfreeside but now she as not sure what to do, but she had she really been sure with what she would do at any point in her life.

"You know Trails you have been leading us through this desert now for sometime and I think you should lead a bit further, I will follow you to McMaren the New Pegasus can always wait till later."

Lightning didn't waste any time following the rest of them all the way out of the town of Novac. The path ahead of them was quiet for the most part. Nothing big happened and nothing very noteworthy. They passed a few towns before eventually coming to a fork in the road. Looks like Trails was giving the group a chance to go off on their own path if they wished. The pegasus would peer down one path then the other. He had no business to be in New Pegasus and gambling his caps away wasn't his idea of fun anyways. Smiling, Lightning turned back to Trails and said, "This trip has been a very educational one for me. And to tell you the truth, there's no reason for me to be in New Pegasus anyways. I'm staying with you to McMaren."

Kestrel had kept to himself, as was tradition, as the team wondered on down the road. His sharp predatory eyes scanning for any dangers or suspicious activities along the road way.

For a good long while there wasn't a damn thing of note.

At least, not until Trails spoke up and mentioned splitting off from the main group. There was little point in lying, Kestrel did consider leaving right then and there. He always looked at all his options before he made a decision.

Thus far the stallion Happy Trails had proven himself as decent company. The kind Kestrel would want around if he needed to get something done. The gryphon would not call him a friend, but he was right now a respectable ally. One Kes was not to keen on giving up.

The bird didn't say anything to trails. He just gave a nod in his direction and gave him a look that said 'I'm in.'

Through brahmin and bandits, depressed griffons and befriending psychotic murderous fillies with weird x-ray vision, the travels throughout the Mohoofe desert had been interesting if nothing else. This had beyond a doubt been the furthest the mare had ever been from her hometown, and while it would be a lie to say that she hadn’t enjoyed the trip, she couldn’t help but feel as though she wasn’t really needed. She hadn’t done much more than get in the way and murder two ponies.

“It’s been an amazing trip, buys. But you don’t really need me. I think I’m going to start heading back to Stableton, if that’s okay with you all.” She gave a small smile. “Try not to get shot, guys.”

Scrap had heard the gunshot but ignored it as Trails told the group that they were going to be moving along again. Double checking his stuff to make sure everything was there, he followed Trails and the rest of the group out of Novac.

Walking quietly along with the rest of the group he looked around at the desert expanse and the few things that stuck out from the rest if the landscape.

He halted when the rest of the group did and Trails started to speak he listened intently, weighing the options of what he should do now. He listened as most of the others made their decisions. He was going to go with Trails and the others on but when Bakewell said she was going to head back to Stableton, the advice Trails gave him earlier came back to him and he switched his plans.

"I'm probably gonna head back to Stableton too." Scrap said to the group before turning to Bakewell "Would you mind if I tagged along with you on the way back to Stableton."

As the group continued with their trip, the youngest member of the party was surprisingly quiet. On the outside, atleast. Inside, her mind was running a mile a minute, going over Bakewell’s reaction to the filly’s story. It wasn’t good.

‘Stupid, I shouldn’t have told her the details. I should have just said I killed an entire camp of slavers and left him a cage, she would of thought that was a bit cruel but not react like...that.’ Violet had seen it all, the terrified and shocked expression on the mare’s face, the rapid heart rate, the clenching throat, large amounts of sweat...Sometimes, being able to see that much was more of a curse than a blessing. Violet knew just how much she freaked out Bakewell, and it scared her. She didn’t want to lose the first real friend she made after leaving Friendship City, not this soon, and not because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut when she got too excited about killing ‘mean ponies’.

‘She wouldn’t understand...Those ponies are...evil. They ruin so many lives, just killing them quickly without making them suffer first...I just can’t do that.’ That’s not to say the filly wasn’t practical, she knew she couldn’t go out of her way to make every slaver she met suffer painfully before dying, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t target the worst ones. The lieutenants, the leaders, and the ponies that clearly have gone above and beyond the call of duty when it comes to breaking ponies and ruining their lives, like Mr.Castrated-Rapist-Pony. Those ponies she can at least put some effort into making suffer. There was no way they’d have gotten their positions without climbing over the dozens of ponies they most likely had a hoof in enslaving. They didn’t deserve to live, and they didn’t deserve a quick death.

Violet’s thoughts were interrupted when Trails stopped the group and told him that he wasn’t going to New Pegasus, and that unless they wanted to go to McMaren with him they’d be parting ways. Honestly, before this morning Violet probably would have gone with Trails, but now she just...wasn’t feeling up to anymore adventuring. She wanted to go back to the Equestrian Wasteland proper, maybe kill some slavers to cheer her up. Plus, a little voice in the back of her head said that something interesting might happen there...

“I think I’ll go back with you two.” she quietly told Scrap and Bakewell, no real enthusiasm in her voice. “If that’s alright with you. I can stand far back if you want Bakewell, I’d understand.”

Trails listened to the caravan's responses and nodded at all of them. He couldn't help but be a little worried for the three that were leaving. The Mohoofe had been dangerous and difficult for all of them, the journey would be hard. If he could, he would have taken them back on his own, but he had things that needed doing, answers needed finding.

"Go into town and see if the crimson caravan company or somepony has a caravan going that way you can tag along with, I don't like you guys travelling alone." He gave Violet and Bake both a short hug, and Scrap a hoof shake, before turning and heading down the short road that led to McMaren.

The camp was impressive. An old world chariot hub turned into the nerve center for the NLR in the Mohoofe. A guard stood at the gate with a service rifle. He looked bored out of his mind, and sounded it when Trails asked who would know about the mercs that hung around the camp. After letting out a sigh the guard directed him to Major Date Tree. It wasn't hard to find the major, like the guard had said, just look for the pissed off guy standing near the Shadowhoof tent.

"Excuse me Major, I'm looking to see if anyone knows a particular mercenary who was hired out of here a few years ago."

"He'd have to be a pretty damn unique merc to get hired out of here, as we didn't let any contractors in until Hoofer Dam." grumbled the Major.

"Well could you take a look at his picture at least?" Trails asked undeterred.

The Major thought for a moment and gave a noncommittal nod. Trails fumbled with his small picture book and held up the picture of Uncle H. He was wearing his old duster in the picture and laughing. The picture had been taken when he had taught Trails to make healing powder. Trails had managed to cover himself in it and been a goopy mess for hours while they struggled to scrub it all off. Soon as the major saw the picture his expression changed, he shouted for somepony named Ghost.

Ghost, as it turned out, was a Shadowbolt. She had on a duster like H's and wore sunglasses with a cocky grin. She asked Date tree what was going on, the major answered by pointing at the picture. The grin left Ghost's face, leaving a somber expression in its wake.

"Kid, where did you get that picture?" There was a faint hint of hostility in her voice, clearly H was a touchy subject. Was this Shadowbolt related to H? Trails bet himself they were lovers or something.

"My dad took it, why?"

"Because that stallion died long ago." She replied dryly.

"Well yes, but how would you know about that? It was out in the Capitol Wasteland." Trails was starting to get confused, did H fake his death?

"He got hired by some courier to guard him on his route to the Khans and got shot to pieces by them. I know, I found his helmet myself." The hostility in her voice was more pronounced now.

Trails took a step back while he thought of what to say. "My dad did hire him, but it was to guard him and my mom while they went to Manehattan." He said hesitantly, something wasn't sinking up.

"What's your name kid?"

"Happy Trails."

"The fuck is that, some kinda sick joke?" She yelled.

Date Tree put out a hoof to stop her, "Calm down Ghost, he's as confused as you are."

"H saved my life, died doing it. I took his name to honor him." Trails' voice cracked as he explained. He was worried now, they had clearly known and loved his Uncle, but they knew something else, a different history than what happened.

"Trails died saving a courier who was fucking some Khan bitch while they ran off. I saw the blood, found his helmet." Ghost was yelling outright, hovering angrily while she ranted. "I told him not to take up being a merc after what happened, just to retire, but he took up the job anyway. And died because of it." tears were slowly creeping down the sides of her face, she didn't bother hiding it.

"What? What happened to him? Who was he before he became a merc?"

Ghost scoffed. "He was my best friend, and the best Desert Pegasi I ever knew."

"But he was an earth pony." Trails muttered.

Ghost landed and looked at Trails in the eye. "You didn't even know him, but you take on his name." her voice was low, but quivered slightly when she said 'him'. "He was a pegasus, but got in a fight with a Hellhound. He killed the monster, but lost his wings for it, one cleaved straight off by their claws, the other had to be amputated. After that he was supposed to retire but had a thirst for action. So a courier, who I'm guessing was your dad, hired him on as a guard on his route to Bitter Springs. Never saw H again."

Trails stood silent for a moment while he thought about everything he just heard. Uncle H was a pegasus who'd gotten his wings clipped. When dad offered him the chance at a new life he took it without hesitation despite what he was leaving behind. No wonder he knew so much, was so cool, and hated to talk about himself so much. Trails knew this much, he was the best uncle anypony could ask for, and nothing changed that.

"Trails was a good man, when I knew him. I'm sorry that I brought all of this back up. Just one more question. Where is Bitter Springs?"

Major Date Tree answered before Ghost could, clearly just wanting to close that chapter again for her. "Days trot east, just follow the road from outside Everfreeside."

Trails thanked the Major and turned to leave. The sun was setting as he left the fort, stretching the shadows of the wasteland into giants. He made his way to under an overpass just outside of Everfreeside before setting up camp. He found an old fire pit waiting for him, he smiled and started a fresh campfire. He decided to do some scavenging for supplies to clear his head.

(Survival 85: roll: 84+17= 91)

His scavenging was fruitful, and his saddlebags were bulging with hoof fulls of every ingredient imaginable. Well ever ingredient that could be picked, he'd have to go hunting later. He sat down at the campfire and listened to the music of the strip on the wind. He leaned back and watched the stars, thinking. His mom was a Khan, and that made him one, whatever that was. Bitter Springs would be his last stop, his home.

Sky followed Trails through the road to the place known as Camp Mcmaren, the camp was was a huge to say the least. Alot of chariots around for pegasi to use back in the prewar, not to say the least though. The camp it self was impressive, alot of soldiers walking around in the camp. They all wore blue, just a uniform for the boys and girls in blue. Sky stopped behind Trails, when they met with the Major. Since this was non of her concern she just fazed out in awe of the camp some more, not really worried about trails. After some time and a awesome Pegasus wearing duster came to talk with trails and the Major, Sky just looked at her uniform. Even pegasi were soldiers here, wonder what else the mohoofe is with all these ponies here.

Sky just winced a bit when the peagsus yelled but she kept her cool and looked around, a while later Trails was on his way and Sky followed him out to the road. When trails stopped to make campfire, Sky just sat at the campfire. Night pulled in and she would just drink some water she had, She stared at the fire. She didn't even notice her eyes were closing, and fell asleep next to the campfire.

The sun was at Trails' back as it rose. Sleep had flatly refused him last night, his mind too filled with thoughts on his family to be replaced by dreams. He still didn't know just why his mom had ran, wanted to leave her life with the Khans behind. Course from what little Trails had heard of the group they weren't the nicest ponies. They honestly sounded a bit like raiders, that was OK though. Trails could talk to raiders.

The road from New Pegasus to Bitter Springs was long and absolutely abandoned. He had thought the road into New Pegasus abandoned, no that was quiet. This road was void of not just ponies, but any sign of ponies. No discarded bottles or ammo casings, not even the scorch mark of a campfire. Normally such a road made Trails relax, feel calm and unrestricted. Something was wrong with this isolation though, something foul. They were being watched by sompony.

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Red Root sat on the ridge overlooking the one road in and out of the springs. He let out a yawn and set the coffee on the fire. Damn morning shift, no fucking pony to be seen but hellhounds and cazadors. Still, Root turned a weary eye to the road as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Was that? No way in tartarus. He raised his hunting rifle's scope to his eye and scanned. Sure as shit, we got us a caravan. Root weighed his options with caravan, finally landing on letting them be for now. If they were just looking for some chems and weren't NLR he saw no reason to trouble them. He still followed them with his scope, though. Wanting to see just how they played entering the base of the Great Khans.

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Trails ignored his uneasy feeling as nerves. Wasn't everyday you met an entire side of your family you didn't know about. He had only two goals with the Khans: find out why his mom had wanted out and, if he could, get in. As he turned the blind corner of a massive ridge and laid eyes on the camp for the first time he was stunned.

Tents filled the canyon, leading up to longhouses on the crest of the hill that was Bitter Springs. Foals ran through the zig zag paths that served as the community's streets, laughing and playing some game Trails didn't recognize. Course Trails' favorite childhood game was shells, so he might have a skewed perspective. A group of elderly ponies sat proudly looking over the children, smoking from pipes and smiling at what he assumed were their grandchildren.

Trails took in the sights, sounds, and smells as he guided himself through the camp and towards the longhouses. He figured that's where he would find the leader, and that's who he should talk to. He saw from the looks of the various stallions, all wearing leather jackets and vests, that he was being sized up. He decided he didn't care, they could judge him later after he'd shown them what he was actually made of. For now it was just a game of 'I could take that guy' which Trails didn't subscribe to.

The guard at the central longhouse demanded to know what Trails wanted with Papa Khan. He plainly replied "Answers, my mom was Joules." The guard nodded and entered the house, instructing him to stay there. When the pony returned he pointed to him and said to go on in. Inside at the head of a long table sat a large earth pony wearing a helmet and leather jacket. The famous Papa Khan.

"So you're Joules' boy?" he rumbled, his voice was low and rough like sandpaper. The grit of a life hard lived.

"Yes, I came out here to piece together my family's history. Why she left is the last question I need answering."

Papa Khan gave Trails a long hard look before taking a drink from his glass and clearing his throat, "Your mom left for a lot of reasons." he motioned for Trails to take a seat across from him, Trails obliged. "Things were complicated then, they still are, but it was a special kind of complicated then. We had been reborn from our own ashes for the third time, and were taking on a new face. A new ideology, ours, was taking hold. For years the Khans had been raiders, nothing more, Joules and the rest of us original 9 saw it as an idea. Freedom.

After a few years we had set ourselves up a mighty empire in the Mohoofe. Nopony, not even the Desert Pegasi messed with us. It was a lot of hard work getting and keeping that empire. An entire network of connections. Your mom was central to this empire, the entire economy of it depended on her and your father getting the chems made. She was a wasteland doc, traveled and helped ponies, before she met me and my crew. With her help we became what we are now, and in return we treated her like a queen. But things started changing, and that's the one thing she couldn't let us do."

Trails took the pause in Papa Khan's speech as an ending and spoke up. "How were they changing?"

Papa Khan chuckled darkly. "We were replacing her, expanding. Didn't take long before we had other talented chemists in our family, and that made Joules less valuable. Towards the end of her reign it was more out of respect and gratitude she was drug queen than talent. On top of that chems ceased to be our sole means of income, we were running guns as fast as we could sell them. The factions of the strip arming themselves for the NLR's inevitable approach. And of course the NLR were the biggest factor in our changes, we started a war with a nation, determined to keep them out of our lands."

"So she left because you were starting a war and replacing her?"

"From what I can figure. As I said, she lived very well here. Everyone loved and respected your mother, she made us what we are now, and she was treated accordingly. The only other reason I can think of is you, kid. She might not have wanted her son to be a chem runner, or a soldier in a war with the NLR, so she removed that possibility."

Trails sat silently for a moment, letting the final piece of the puzzle click into place. His mom had started the chem business the Khans thrived on, his dad had discreetly delivered ingredients to her and over the years they'd kindled something more. After a while, Trails entered the picture, and everything took on a new light. The drug queen was now a mother, and she needed to keep her baby safe. That meant leaving the warzone before it became one, so she went to a retired Desert Pegasi for help and protection, and they left the Mohoofe behind, forever.

With the mystery solved Trails looked at Papa Khan and asked the only question he could think of, "How do I earn that patch?"

"Think you're stallion enough, eh?" Papa Khan laughed, giving Trails another hard look. "I wont bother giving you some pitch, or try and scare you off. You came miles and miles to get here, looking for answers, and a home I bet. I'll give you a chance to earn that patch. Go outside and get something to eat, mid day I'll send one of my bucks to bring you in for initiation."