[b]North Western Wastelands[/b]

The sky again was painted a thick sheet of black. Not the night-sky, but an impenetrable shield of cloud so dark that the billowing roles of its surface became lost in its own mass. The ground below was covered in a thick darkness light night. But the wasteland held itself in an eerie stormy glow, in wait for the winds to blow in another pounding maelstrom from sea. With apt apprehension Rusted looked to the sky, knowing and expecting what he'll get.

Some days he wished the SPP towers were in uniform working order across the land. Pockets existed where the towers simply did not start, or they had collapsed. A swathe of mountain in central Equestria lost its capabilities to hold predictable weather when the tower there had been blown up. He'd probably pass close to where the edge of that system was.

But for now he still pressed along the highways. He long started his march east. Galloping Gorge was perhaps several day's trot away if he could hold the pace. But with worrying about storms he imagined the trip would measure at more like a week. He would need to find a place to bed down.

The concern was noticeable in his Brahmin. She stared up at the dark skies with a stricken expression of concern and apprehension. Her gait was hastened. Her nostrils flared at each breath smelling the cold damp air as it brewed in. Each sound solicited a sudden jerk of her ears as they searched the skies like radar dishes. Rusted couldn't say he was apathetic, he did the same himself.

He turned his sights down from the oily dark storm clouds. Years before ponies might have suggested this was the work of the Pegasi, some great revenge by some hold outs. This being shortly after their attempt at cauterizing the surface, as it was learned later. But those feelings trickled out of ponies' heads like water through hooves as each passing storm – explained or not – did not bring renewed destruction. The concept of renewed genocide had left for most. But he had met some yet whose hooves were still wet with the fearful anger that it could begin again.

Ahead of them the ancient highway marched on solemnly. Bending through the hills with a gentle curve, much like a river. Cracks in the asphalt threw up chunks like large boulders in places. Stripped down skeletons of old carriage wrecks littered the expanse. But in coming years these would disappear from traveling salvagers; their scars and some tools still remained along the concrete vein of steel.

Reaching for the sky the withering remains of ancient trees stood a silent vigil in the hills. Their shells blackened with ash, age, or balefire. Their branches gnarled claws that no longer were sharp, broken at the knuckles and swept away in the dust and dirt. Some green tried to carve a living in the new wasteland. The same stubborn grasses that existed even in the cities. Small pockets of flowers danced in the buffeting wind, clinging to the loose and dry soil.

Even more distant the faint remains of centuries old buildings rose from the landscape. Old farmhouses. Burned barns. Collapsed silos. The towering smoke stacks of a distant power plant poked out from behind the hills. The dragon's pipes that were the smoke stacks long having fallen silent though, but the ancient coal ash that bathed the exteriors still remained strong. Worn and rubbed deep into the concrete. An ancient stain for as ancient a building.

Rusted wondered what it had been like to live so long ago. He heard some things. But not many. But it wasn't wise to dwell that far in the past. Even if it shone like a tempting a jewel as The Hoof. Loosing one's self in it was suicide, no matter the splendor. That's what his family had told him once. To keep moving ahead. Don't stop to look back or think ahead. What was is now is and will forever be. No use crying in lost bones, strangers or family. Just keep ahead of the ghosts.

Low thunder rumbled in the sky and Rusted looked back up. The darkness of the clouds flashed dimly with lightning above him. In the distant horizon the dark tendrils of the storm's edge were beginning to blot out the last distant light. The world around him was getting darker. Looking down the first anemic drops of warm rain fall to his head, signaling the beginning of the storm.

He grumbled irritated at the change in weather and dropped his head. His Brahmin mooed in freight and began trotting faster. Up ahead in the growing darkness he could see a small farm house, just off the side of the highway. He looked back up and behind him, into the blackened heart of the storm. Even in the thickening cloudy darkness he could see the heavy veil of rain in the distance rushing near. It wouldn't be long.

***

The door came down with a crash. Shuddering as it hit the floor. Rusted walked in backwards, pulling the Brahmin in after him through tough leathery reigns clenched between his teeth. The massive beast – slick with rain that had just arrived not a second ago – struggled to keep out of the foreboding blackness of the house inside. It struggled and mooed against the thought, but eventually Rusted – or the rain – won over and she made it through the door way, if to the unsatisfying wet smack of fresh deification against the crumbling wood of the door Rusted had just bucked down.

The caravaneer gave the beast a disgusted look. “Great Celestia, I'm not cleaning up after you.” he grimaced, turned away, “Then again I doubt it would matter. No one home. I'll find something for you to eat.” he added sternly.

The two-headed cow only have a muted and cautious burp of a moo, before plodding long after its master. Its bulking sides scraping along the narrow halls.

Rusted looked back at it, frowning in disdain, “Did I but a coward?” he sneered.

The animal didn't respond outright. It looked at him sheepishly, just simply following its owner. He groaned angrily. “Fucking fine, dammit.” he rattled, walking out into a larger open room. His hooves clicked against hard surfaces. A tiled room. Probably a kitchen.

“Stay here then, I'll get a light on.” the merchant consoled, walking around the side of the great Brahmin to the massive packs at his side, “And don't shit on the floor again. I doubt we have enough air to breath with what you could put out.” he sneered under his breath as he dug through the contents of its bags in dim light.

With a satisfied hiss he cried out happily, clamping over cold metal with his teeth he pulled out a lantern, bundled with many more blocks of miscellaneous items which he tossed to the linoleum floor. It made a loud thunk as it hit the ground. Rusted leaned over it, working with his hooves to unbundle the light. He worked quick, pulling at it with that freaky Earth Pony ability with one's hooves and teeth until it turned out. With a sharp click and a persistent buzz it flooded the room with a strong sharp yellow light. He smiled and clapped his hooves together as his light beat back the graying stormy light as it fought to stream through the water-loged, grit soaked, and melting glass windows.

The fanning yellow light illuminated a small kitchen. Nearby a wooden table that had gone black. In the corner a sickly, olive-green refrigerator and matching drab green counters. From the ceiling a simple glass chandelier, though blackened with tar and age it was no doubt beyond use.

“It's no road house but it'll do while we wait out the storm.” Rusted sighed as he sat down alongside the light. His brahmin starred emptily into the heavy golden glow of the lantern.

“Stop that!” barked Rusted, “You'll go blind, and I don't have use for a blind saddlebag carrier.”

The beast registered what he wanted and dropped its head away from the romantic glow of the lantern light. Rusted smiled, beating his chest with his hoof as he beamed victoriously. “Good girl.” he complimented plainly, looking around the room. Much of it had faded and peeled away. Wooden struts and slats shone from behind sickly pale wallpaper. The rotting skeleton of the house's structure showing plainly for all to see. Who knew how much longer it had left to stand.

There was a feeling of relief to be where it was dry as the storm thundered over head. The rain fell in a constant heavy stream, buffeting against the roof as the wind did the walls, rattling the windows and causing the whole house to moan and sing. From somewhere – no doubt where they had entered – the air whistled and moaned ghostly as wind found cracks and holes through which it could rush through. Rusted could feel the cool moist breeze of the storm rushing in. Though he wished it wouldn't, he could smell all too well the pile of shit his beast of burden had left by the door, and it did not mix well with the ripe leathery smell it gave off naturally.

With no other company to wait out the storm with Rusted dropped to his belly on the floor, ready to doze off into a nap. Though as he lowered his head he heard with certain clarity the choking cough of something else there.

His heart jumped as he did. He bounded to his feet, face stressed tight as he craned his eyes and ears to find where the sound had come from. His chest a fluttering storm, like the rain. He wasn't alone.

“Who's there!” he boomed. His voice heavy, demanding. There was nothing.

“Fuck's sake, say something!” he roared again. Again, to nothing.

He licked scowling lips as he paced to the edge of the room. His brahmin watching with a stupid glassy-eyed expression on her twin faces. Rusted walked along the edge of the ancient cabinets, listening. His hooves fell heavy in front of each door.

The edge of the counter. The bottom of the sink. He slinked along, listening tentatively. “If you say something I won't hurt you.” he said, “Better speaking than rabid.”

Is invitation brought no new response. But he could feel something. And then he heard it. To his side a twitchy muffled shuffling. His heart shot straight and short and his ears snapped fast as he looked to the offending door. He moved quickly and with purpose, marching to the cabinet door.

Throwing out his hooves he reached for them, and through them open. Bowing his head low to look inside.

“H-Hello?” the frightfully filly said nervously, staring Rusted in the eyes.