Pale White Horse (OFFICIAL WATTPAD UPLOAD)

Chapter 1

The winter wind scouring the wastes was cold.

Quackity shivered, taking a drag on his cigarette as he gazed numbly at the gates in front of him.

His elytra was heavy on his back, and his bad knee ached.

"Hell," Quackity muttered, gazing at the tiny town he'd pulled together in the desolate ruins of Las Nevadas. You could barely even call El Rapids a town, he thought bitterly, surveying the tiny collection of tents surrounded by the crumbling yet still-standing concrete walls of the Planet Duck with an appraising eye, before pulling out the flask he'd been keeping in his jacket nowadays.

He wasn't even really leading this place, given he spent most of his time drifting and drinking and... well, he wasn't coping, really, he was just blocking everything out, drinking himself into a stupor and waking up a few towns over with considerably fewer credits and a fresh layer of regret on his already bloodstained conscience. Eret had become the commune's leader in every way but name after he'd started wandering aimlessly, and they were doing a much better job than he ever would've.

Well, after tonight, Eret's leadership over the few survivors of Las Nevadas who hadn't joined New L'Manberg or another city would be official.

Whiskey burned in his throat as he took a long pull from his flask, and he sighed heavily, gazing up at the makeshift walls for a moment before limping up to the gates. Part of him wanted to skip this step of his plan altogether, but...

Well, he didn't want shit to get messy.

And he'd gotten six telegraphs from Eret in the past few weeks. That too.

"HEY!" Quackity yelled, pounding his fist on the gates. "HEY, FOOLISH! I KNOW YOU'RE UP THERE!"

Silence followed, except for the wind whistling through the ruins and the faint lull of people going about their business within the walls.

Quackity growled in annoyance. For a moment he considered leaving, but then a familiar face appeared from behind the ramparts above him.

"Quackity?" Foolish said, squinting down at him, and then his expression brightened, and he hastily threw the lever to open the gates. "Quackity! Oh my god it's you! Where the hell have you been, Eret's been worried to shit—"

"Does it really matter?" Quackity grumbled.

"Listen, man, I know you've been having a tough time," Foolish said, sliding down the ladder on the wall to meet him, a huge grin on his face. "But we've all been getting better! El Rapids has electricity now—I mean, only to a few buildings and most of the people are still living in tents, but come spring I'll be able to start setting up permanent power lines when the ground thaws—"

"Yeah, yeah," Quackity sighed, waving him off. "Take me to Eret, I gotta talk with them."

"Well that's good," Foolish remarked, leading him through the miserable collection of tents and temporary shelters that surrounded the three log cabins they'd been able to throw together over the summer, which housed both the council chamber and a makeshift hospital. People, survivors were everywhere, sitting by campfires and tending animals, and the place reminded Quackity painfully of what L'Manberg had looked like, back in the beginning. "They've been wanting to talk to you, too. We were getting close to sending out search parties."

"It better be damn important," Quackity muttered.

Foolish nodded anxiously. "Eret won't give me details. All I know is that it's something to do with Tubbo, and they're worried."