April 17, 2025: 12:03 AM

Go for a walk (52%)

Way loved being out in nature.

There was something instantly stress-relieving about a trip into the woods, taking away your sight of any nearby building or piece of infrastructure. On a typical trip you might not encounter more than a handful of humans for hours—or if you were lucky, none at all.

Granted, she didn’t usually take those trips late at night, when her breath came in sharp gasps and her tail kept flicking angrily from side to side while she walked.

The backyard was large and safe enough. If she kept facing one direction, she could pretend she was on one of those family trips she’d taken when she was younger. Her sister would be playing in the stream nearby, or her dad reciting some story or piece of advice. How much simpler life would be if she could go back.

The backyard wasn’t built to be a comfortable walkway, though. Its ground sloped sharply downward except for the deck and the bottom along the river. Way lingered around the back of the house, staring up into a sky full of stars.

All around the world, people were struggling with the same infection she was. How many of them had lost more than their species? How many other families and relationships would be ripped apart by this stupid infection.

“Told him,” said a voice, echoing out from a window on the far side. Way’s ears swiveled, pointing back that way involuntarily. She froze in place, senses going sharp. She would be so much better off if she didn’t overhear, yet…

“Guess it didn’t go well?” That was Sam’s voice, surprisingly concerned for the bird-creature who had just stolen her girlfriend.

“He’ll—she’ll be fine,” Rose said. A door clicked, and something rustled around inside. Clothes maybe, though she already hadn’t been wearing much. They would soon all have adopted that same dress code. At least they could all share in each other’s embarrassment. “I’m sure she understands. I’m not gay. I get that she’s still into girls, but—”

They met. Her ears weren’t good enough to pick out exactly how, but it came with a soft sound, like fabric rubbing together. Maybe a kiss, though she didn’t know how that even worked with a beak.

Sam was the one to break the silence, breathless. “Probably… isn’t,” he said. “Might think she is. But if you gave her a chance, it would just get uncomfortable. If she got what I got, she’s not interested. Look at how fast she started spending time with Peter.”

Way shifted on the deck, straining in their direction. She nearly spoke, but then the deck creaked.

“You think—” Ruby said, much quieter. “No.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sam replied, laughing. “This place has thin walls, Ruby. But I don’t wanna go out on our own. Princess Blue’s good at this survival stuff. We’re better off with her than without her.”

Way had about enough of accidentally overhearing conversations. She continued off the deck, down the steps, and through the fence onto the trail. They didn’t lock the gate anymore, only hanging the lock in place as though it were locked. Given the obvious signs of occupation in the house, there was little chance to expect a random robbery.

Way’s tail flicked sharply behind her, smacking into one of the nearby trees. Maybe she should invite Peter to share her room. The others were already whispering about her. Would it really be so bad?

He was military of some kind, and still much better with his powers than she was. He would probably be upstairs by the computer at that moment, making the news from all the other people who still had internet connections. The government could try to keep them all quiet, but there was just too much infrastructure. It had holes.

No. She would not think about the way he grinned back at her from the water. She wasn’t desperate to have someone hold her again. She wanted someone to hold. She wouldn’t let a guy close to her like that.

Way did not go back to him that night. Instead she walked through much of the night, using the glow of her horn to light her way through the trees. Branches and leaves and mud clung to her as she walked, forcing her way through trails that weren’t any she’d used as a child. But if deer could use them, she could too.

She fought through tiredness, more a background ache than anything that really bothered her. Not to the pond or the waterfall, but higher, ascending awkward switchbacks until she could go no higher, and the trail emerged on a peak.

She sat on her haunches then, finally letting herself rest. The stress and exhaustion and difficulty of the trip had long since erased whatever discomfort had drawn her up there. Here at last, she found some peace.

She must’ve dozed at some point, because something finally woke her. Someone nudged her, a faint touch on her shoulder. Gentle, enough that her mind returned slowly. “Ruby? Don’t… worry about the coffee. I set a timer on the—” She opened one eye, then froze.

She was in the dirt, her fur smeared with it, leaves caught in her mane around her face. More importantly, there was an animal looking at her.

That was her first impression, anyway. The instinct was old and didn’t last long, not in the face of the colorful muzzle dominating the bottom of her vision. This wasn’t a wild deer, or a horse. Not with a face that was bright yellow, save for a little patch of cream down his face, and that ginger orange falling messy over his face. He even had a little facial hair, though it was as disheveled as the rest of him.

“Miss? You probably shouldn’t be asleep up here. I mean—the town doesn’t seem friendly. Someone might catch you.”

Not just his voice—there were many nearby, a low rumble loud enough to mistake for a distant wind. Way blinked, then recoiled from him, leaping to her hooves.

She’d been adapting. Even right after sleeping, she didn’t try to stand on two legs and trip herself.

The pony in front of her dressed more than almost anyone she’d seen, with a cloak or jacket over his back and fastened around his neck. He had bags on his back too, protruding from the jacket just a little. Purpose built—saddlebags? Maybe they should’ve bought more than just feed at the farming supply store. “What—”

Behind him were—dozens, maybe hundreds of people. Way’s words strangled in her throat as she looked back, and realized what she was seeing.

A convoy cut across the fire road below, about a hundred meters down the slope. They were horses mostly—a handful of other things, too far away to get a good look. A smattering of partially-changed humans still on two legs.

Many pulled wheeled carts or wagons packed with supplies. Small ones skipped and played as they followed the convoy. She stared a little longer, eyes adjusting to the light of full day. The ones on the edges carried guns, a smattering of rifles and shotguns mostly. And if she looked a little further—a single ranger vehicle followed at a great distance, its lights flashing.

“We’re heading to the city called… Denver,” the stallion said, extending a hoof towards her. “It’s still a few days from here. But it will be better when we get there. There are only infected there. We’ll be safer.”

She nearly took his hoof. He sounded so gentle, but clearly had the strength to hike all the way to the top for her. He could’ve just kept walking.

Ruby didn’t want her anymore, Sam was just as capable with practical stuff. Peter had the computer to keep him occupied, the computer speaking warnings about…

She took the offered hoof anyway, and moved closer to him. “Have you heard about what’s happening in the Isolation zones? I have. There’s a mesh up now, word gets out.”

The stallion was a unicorn too, which she only noticed when little leaves and twigs floated away from her head. It took less than a second, a hundred little objects unraveled themselves without tugging on her mane, then fell to the floor around her. So fast that she wouldn’t have noticed how incredible it was, except that she’d been practicing her own magic daily for a week.

Holy shit how did he do that.

“We’re told there’s safety waiting in the Isolation Zones,” he said. “Food, water, and safety from random acts of violence. This world has too many deadly weapons and too many who are willing to use them.”

He nodded towards the ones trailing at the back of the group. Not ponies, now that she had a better view. They were birds too, like Sam. Or not quite like him—they were bigger, a large male almost twice the size of the mare urging her child to speed up from nearby. Almost as tall as a human being, with all that muscle…

“There are walls going up around the city,” Way said, a little louder. “Guard towers. Fences of razor wire. You’re walking into a prison.”

He smiled sadly. “I’m afraid we have to walk somewhere.” His horn flashed briefly white, and she felt a sudden wave of hot air rush against her. Moisture came with it, relaxing her mane, and passing pleasantly over her coat. “There. Ready for your debut on the fashion scene. Or to join our Caravan for safety. What’s your name, miss?”

“Uh…” her tail flicked nervously to either side. When she looked down, she saw what he meant—flat sheets of dirt and mud had fallen away from her body, leaving faint impressions of her outline. “I’m not really sure anymore. I’ve been going by Way, but I know how stupid that sounds.”

He shrugged. “Not that stupid. Just… incomplete.” He glanced briefly at her, eyes lingering near the back. Somehow, she didn’t mind the attention. “If you know so much about what’s ahead, maybe you should come with us. Could be our Wayfinder.” He chuckled nervously, retreating towards the trail he’d used. Obviously expecting her to follow. “It’s an old name for navigator, that matches your—you get it.”

Way nodded, ears folding back to match his nervousness. She glanced back the way she’d come. “You’re okay getting locked into a prison? That’s the way you’re finding. Into a gate. There were monsters in there.”

He nodded solemnly. “The cruelty of this disease. More reason to go. The ponies of this world are completely unprepared. Sometimes the ample weapons of this place are effective. Sometimes magic is required, magic they don’t know how to use.”

His jacket-thing pulled aside on its own, exposing the saddlebags underneath. They didn’t look like they’d been snatched from a farming store—they fit him perfectly, with straps under his belly to keep them secure. No place for an actual saddle—they were for his own use.

They were overflowing with books, heavy tomes resembling props from some renaissance faire, with text she could not read along their spines. “I brought the magic. We’ll give the victims their peace. Then… make something of the space, and wait for this world to adapt. It may take some time, but that’s fine. Ponies live long enough to wait.”

He tugged on her again, this time without touching her. The tug was disciplined on her foreleg, not lifting her the way Peter had done a few times now. Exactly what a human could’ve done with a gentle tug. “You’ll be safer with us than hiding in the weeds.”

“I’m hiding with my friends,” she corrected, reflexively. “We’ve got a place. Not… big enough for all those people.”

The pony’s ears drooped again. “Oh. Well… you should tell your friends to join us! We’re walking, so we can’t go faster than the wagons anyway. You’ll be happier with other ponies than hiding out with humans.”

He lowered his voice to a distant whisper. “They might kill you. I’ve heard of it happening. Your neighbors and friends turning against you, terrified of being infected. Maybe the Isolation Zone is a prison, but prisons can keep us safe too.”

Way considered what to do. Despite her friction with Ruby right now, she probably could convince her friends to join this caravan. Now that the fear of a nuclear device was gone, even Peter would probably come with them if they left.

She had to decide.

1. Convince everyone to join the caravan.
2. Find a way to stay in touch with the caravan, but stay in Granite Bluff.
3. Retreat as quickly as possible to avoid notice by the authorities. You’re safer where you are!