Rescue Process (12) (Patreon)

Lin slunk along the slow-moving group somewhere near the back.

Even before becoming a prisoner in Equestria, she'd never been the most physically fit person in the world. She loved going out and going on adventures, sure, but they were always small in scope. She'd never been on a hike longer than a few hours. 

The first day, she coasted on raw adrenaline, worried that any second the diamond dogs might burst out of the trees to round them up for recapture. When Motherlode sent them away, some of that energy persisted as spite.

But after spending the night in a makeshift shelter, half-frozen by the blizzard, Lin's weakness was finally catching up with her.

It didn't help that their food was running low. Without a means to cook the rice, they could only mix in the flour Motherlode had given them and eat it as a flavorless paste. It filled her stomach for a while, but soon left her body strained. 

Some members of the group could keep walking through almost anything, or so it seemed. The earth ponies moved just as quickly that day as they had the day before. A few even picked up more to carry, as other members of their expedition ran out of strength.

She was one of those—no matter how little she wanted to admit it, even her measly pack soon became too much. It wasn't her fault, she had wings! She was supposed to be flying, not hiking through the snow. 

The group moved slower than the day before, but even that felt overwhelming to her. She found herself stopping for breath more often by the hour. If she sat down, it took someone else's help to get her legs moving again. 

“You're all going to hate me for this,” Shauna said, when the light grew long and the sun low in the sky. “We can't make camp yet. The valley is only a few miles further. If we make it, we'll be... safe. Think of the grass, flowing water, and civilization. We have to keep going.”

There were some murmurs of unhappiness. But Lin was too tired to even say something. She kept her head bowed obediently and trudged along with everyone else. As long as her energy existed, anyway.

Eventually, she couldn't keep going any further, and her legs just stopped. She dropped to the muddy ground, covering her face in shame. She should have been strong enough to keep walking! She didn't have any excuses! The unicorns were much colder than she was.

But it was her who cried out weakly for help, who struggled and failed to get back onto her hooves.

A familiar shadow passed in front of her, faint in the dim orange light. Ethan. Even he was still going, despite his youth. Because he was a guy. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Nothing specific. I just... can't keep going. Tell Shauna I'm sorry.”

The colt tilted his head to one side. “Hold on, I'll get help.” He cantered off, hurrying back down the trail. She was only alone for a few moments before two sets of hooves returned, moving together.

“Lin? Ethan says you can't keep going,” Thomas said. He bent down beside her, nudging at her side. “Is that right?”

She wasn't brave enough to say the specific reason she thought she was too weak. Only Thomas even knew what it was. Maybe one day she would tell Ethan. But doing that would mean thinking about why she had transformed, when so few others had. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I'm going to carry you. Try to help me, if you can.”

Before she realized what was happening, she was already moving. Something lifted her from the ground, a diffuse pressure against her whole body at once. There was no painful sensation in any individual limb, she was just up. Seconds later, the force deposited her on something warm—Thomas's back. She knew his scent by now, even if her eyes were closed.

The stallion faltered under the weight, then started moving again. “Not as bad as I thought. Guess you really do have bird bones.”

She tried to meet his eyes, to smile. Instead, she started crying. In an instant, she lost all semblance of emotional control. “I'm sorry. I tried... to keep going. Tried so hard.”

“You're fine,” Thomas said. Somehow, he didn't even sound angry. Or smell it, for that matter. “You're not the first one to run out of steam, Lin. We should be in the valley soon. Getting to Salt Lick is a little victory lap after that.”

She didn't have enough energy left to reply. Fortunately for her, Thomas didn't seem to expect her to. He carried her in silence for a long time, long enough that the sun went down, and they navigated by a combination of moonlight and unicorn glow.

She couldn't say how long they kept going—maybe an hour, maybe six. The air didn't feel so cold when they finally stopped. When Thomas dropped to the ground, she felt soft grass under her side, dotted with clover and wildflowers. Nothing ever smelled so delicious in her life.

“Did we make it?” she asked, nudging his shoulder with one weak hoof. “Are we safe?”

“Yeah,” Thomas answered, his voice flat with exhaustion. “We made it.”

They slept together in the grass, without even a blanket for shelter. Neither had the energy to care.

The night passed quickly, barely even a blink. No more sore, aching pulses from her cramped conditions. No more cold creeping closer to her hooves. They'd finally escaped the heights.

She rolled sideways, untangling herself from Thomas. The unicorn had carried her all the way down from the point her body finally gave up—how could she ever repay a debt like that?

A different leader might've left me for dead—either lose one, or the whole group. But you didn't let that happen.

She would've let the stallion sleep, for as long as he needed. But her movements were enough to rouse him. He stirred, twitched, then opened one eye. “Ugh. Feels like I... got ran over by a truck.”

“Kinda,” she whispered back. “But you got better. And the dogs didn't come to drag us back to the mine, so... I think everything turned out pretty good.”

They weren't alone in this grassy field—dozens of other ponies lay scattered. Some were already up or shifting in the early stages of waking just as she had. The sun was just now cresting the horizon—that was probably what woke her.

“Is there any food left? Think Shauna said something about... rice.”

She shrugged. “Dunno. But there's some stuff all around us. Wonder if...”

Part of her still remembered those first few days in the mine, when she'd been too proud to touch the dried hay diamond dogs offered them as their primary food supply. Between the hunger and the expedition, she didn't even hesitate. That grass would probably taste...

She scanned the area around them, rising up into a sitting position. There, a patch of yellow wildflowers. Weren't flowers supposed to be good for you? No one ate them because they were gross, obviously...

They didn't taste so bad anymore. After working to exhaustion and beyond, a few bites of yellow flowers felt pretty good, actually. Crisp, floral, and alive. She chewed, grinning wider with every bite. It wasn't like she was starving—she'd had a proper meal in Motherlode only two days ago. Her memories of that experience were soured now, thanks to the whole irrational racism thing.

“Well?” Thomas sat up, or tried. He leaned on his foreleg instead, propped up halfway. “Tell me. And don't puke all over me!” He shielded his face with his other leg. Of course there was no need. Instead, she rose, scanning the field around them for anything similar. She deposited them next to him with her mouth, resisting the urge to eat them herself. 

“Here. Try this.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Damn, guess I am really hungry enough. Doesn't feel like a colorful horse utopia should have us eating like North Korea.” He fell silent as he chewed. Soon he looked away, focused intently on the pile. “Woah. That has no right to taste so good.”

She went searching more to satisfy her craving—anything more interesting than grass. But she wasn't the only one foraging, or even the only one eating grass. They were that hungry, and they were horses, so... the result was practically inevitable. 

Shauna didn't rouse them all at once this time with some command. Instead, she passed through the group, checking on everyone. When she reached Lin, she touched her wing to get her attention, then pointed. “Got a fire going. Don't drink anything we didn't boil. We're taking it slow this morning, won't be leaving until noon. There's a river that way if you want to bathe. Soap should be waiting there.”

A few hours later, Lin felt much better. Between a full belly and a body not completely covered in mud and slime anymore, she was almost normal. Aside from being a naked, female alien in the woods, of course.

They gathered together for another group meeting shortly before noon. Spirits in the group seemed much better then. Most of them still looked at least a little weakened—but they were all still there.

Not one of their number hadn't made it off the mountain—aside from the three still resting in a Motherlode healer's tent.

“We should be only a few hours away from Salt Lick,” Shauna said, once all the chatter died down. “There's no telling what they'll do when we get there. If it's anything like Motherlode, I don't know what we'll do.”

“It won't be.” Night's wings opened and closed several times. She watched the trail behind them—still alert for diamond dogs. “We're ponies in need, with a royal petition. Anywhere that's not the flank side of nowhere will treat us accordingly. Even if that just means giving us train tickets for Canterlot and waving from behind fake smiles, that's what they'll do.”

“Should we be worried about Motherlode?” Winston asked. “Acting like we're dangerous monsters because we helped set their own creatures free. Creatures who were being worked to death with no sign of escape.”

“They did say they sent a telegraph.” Ethan kept his wings open, occasionally fluttering them energetically. He remained firmly planted on the ground no matter how forcefully he did it. “Maybe they'll have an army waiting to fight us instead. Say we're... an invasion force, or something. We could stay out in the wilderness, maybe sneak in one by one.”

“Pointless and silly. But if you want someone to go ahead and scout, maybe now's a good time.” Night took off, hovering in the air just in front of them. Lin watched her with longing, aching in her chest. She wanted to fly too—maybe she could go along and help. 

She didn't want it badly enough to take off right in front of everyone, though. If she failed, the whole camp would see. She'd be hearing about it for days. 

“I can ask around town, see what the magistrate is doing, then fly back. But I can tell you what it is—if they got a telegram, they'll set up a train for us. Reserve cars, get food and clothes and medicine ready. They might have newspaper reporters there with some cameras. The worst thing you have to fear is a little flash blindness.”

Shauna looked away from Night, to where Lin watched. She said nothing, but Lin knew that expression instantly. She wanted to know if the bat pony could be trusted. Would she fly off and do the same thing they feared Motherlode already had, and try to turn another city against them?

Lin smiled back, as placidly as she could. We don't have to be afraid of Night. If she hated us, she could've stayed in the village. Besides, they were friends! They'd fought together now. That kind of bond was not easily broken. “I think it's a great idea. Just keep an eye out. Don't sneak around and spy. Just warn us if there's anything really dangerous. And when there isn't... we can all look forward to sleeping inside tonight on a nice warm bed.”

“Sounds good!” Night didn't wait for Shauna's approval. She gave a salute, flew in a tight loop, then vanished down the trail.

“Hope you're right about trusting her,” Shauna said, as soon as she was gone. “Because there's no getting her back.”

“I'm right,” she said, without hesitation. “You'll see.”