(This is the story text from the corresponding Radio Cataclysm podcast episode. If you prefer audio, you can subscribe here. Read and listen early on Patreon.)

Zeck woke with a start. Something like a mixture of a lion's roar and a terrified shriek came from outside. “That sounds like a horse,” said Zeck. “But, like, a horse full of demons.” The sound of hoofbeats that followed was unmistakeable. “It is a horse,” he said.

Everybody else was already on the ground floor. Bob was wearing his mask. Sheryl had the curtain pulled back just enough to peek through the window. “It's time to go,” she said. “All I see is a big cloud of dust, but I'd know that whinny anywhere. It's Ouroboros, Colonel Destroyer's destrier. Let's go.”

Zeck descended the ladder. The hoofbeats were very close now. They slowed to a trot and then stopped. Sheryl opened the door and walked outside. Bob followed. “Colonel Destroyer. Sir,” Sheryl said. She and Bob saluted.

Zeck and the others stayed inside, but crowded around the open door and the windows so they could see what was happening.

Thirty-odd Tephra soldiers in full flamesuits and a dozen Sparassa soldiers in Huntsman spider armor sat on horseback, shrouded by the massive cloud of dust they'd stirred up on their ride. Leading them all was Colonel Destroyer.

Colonel Destroyer's horse was massive. Rather than a simple robot, Ouroboros was a fully integrated cyborg. His hair was coal black and shone like an oil slick. He was covered in chrome armor, with spikes on his face and shoes. His eyes were as black as his fur, but when they shifted they gave a flicker of red. He snorted and steam streamed from his nostrils.

Colonel Destroyer dismounted. He was easily seven feet tall, but his boots added another six inches. He wore a full suit of armor, too, made from tactical silk dyed black and red. Copper-colored carbon fiber plates covered his limbs and torso. His spider mask was much more elaborate than Sheryl's and Bob's. The eyes moved, or gave the appearance of moving, when he looked around. The chelicerae moved when he talked, and the fangs on the end looked razor sharp. His voice had been frightening over the radio. In person, it felt like a rusty saw blade slicing through your spine. “Lieutenant Teymore,” he said when he saw Sheryl. “Fancy meeting you here. I thought we'd find you farther North. You've made good time on foot.”

Sheryl and Bob saluted. The Colonel saluted back. “We marched all night until we found this farm. The Foke who live here agreed to a trade. Thirty rations in exchange for food and lodging. We've already eaten and rested, and we can be ready to go in just a few minutes.”

“We'll leave soon enough,” said Colonel Destroyer. “We've also stopped for a bite to eat. Ouroboros, to the cornfield.” He slapped his horse's flank and it took off at a gallop in the direction of the corn.

“Sir, the cornfield,” said Sheryl. “The farmers are working out there. Perhaps you should call Ouroboros back until they've cleared out.”

“You know very well that coming between Ouroboros and his meal is a sure way to lose a hand. He'll only eat the corn; he doesn't like cat.”

“Cat, sir?”

Destroyer looked up at the roof of the house. Barb was crouched up there, her haunches taut and ready to pounce.

“Sir, the others are chickens,” Sheryl started to say, but before she could finish, a cacophony of fluttering wings and clucking erupted from the edge of the cornfield.

“The children,” said Barb. She sprang from the roof and dashed after the destrier.

Clara shrieked. “Monster!” she screamed. “Monster! Fly, children!” The horse had started to graze at the corn, chewing and devouring entire stalks like an industrial mulcher. When he saw the chickens emerge, he gave chase. Four of the chicks had a good lead. They couldn't fly properly, but they used their wings to give speed to their run. Michael and Charles weren't as fast as the others, so Clara plucked them up in her talons and flew as hard as she could toward the house. Barb had reached the horse by then. She pounced, claws out, straight at the open spot between its helmet and its plate armor. She gave the horse a good gash and knocked it to its side, but it didn't stay down for long. It sprang up and kicked Barb in the chest, sending her flying across the yard. She landed like a ragdoll and didn't get up.

Meat Rom had been watching from a window. Now he dashed from the house. Burts tried to follow, but his leg still wasn't fully healed, so he was quickly left behind.

Ouroboros was back on his feet. He gained on Clara with frightening speed. She lost her grip on Michael, then dropped Charles trying to turn back for him. The horse was right there. There was no time. Clara threw her wings around Charles and closed her eyes. Michael cried out, “Mommy!” There was a sickening crunch. Clara screamed.

Meat Rom roared. He leapt clear over Clara and Charles, placing himself between the chickens and the horse. Losing no momentum, he punched Ouroboros right in his horse face. The horse staggered. The armor that covered his nose showed a dent the size of Meat's fist. Ouroboros gave another terrifying whinny. He reared up on his hind legs. His belly was covered by an array of gun barrels and nozzles. Meat Rom reached out to tear one of the nozzles loose, but another one spun toward him and fired. Hundreds of spiders sprayed out, covering the giant with webbing in an instant. The horse stamped its hoof on the ground in a pattern that sounded like Morse code.

“Yes,” said Colonel Destroyer, laughing. He applauded and strolled up to his horse. “You've captured Meat Rom,” he said. “Good boy. Good horse. Who's a good horsey?” He patted Ouroboros on the nose. “Aw, he dented your helmet, though. No matter, we'll soon have that fixed up good as new.”

“You monster,” said Clara. “He was only a child. What kind of person lets a beast like that run loose?”

“A beast like what? Like my horse? Or like that puma that attacked him? Some would ask who let you and your chicks run free. Not I, mind you. I've no prejudice against Foke. Still, there are safer places for your kind than out here on the plains. Secure communes where this sort of thing wouldn't happen.”

“Prisons,” Clara spat. “Labor camps. Why don't you just go. Your horse has fed. You've killed my friend. Forget the rations. Just go.”

“She's alive,” said Sheryl. She knelt over Barb's unconscious form. “Some broken bones, but she may be all right.”

“There, you see?” said Destroyer. “We'll leave you some Medi-Gel. That's generous of me. Your cat will be good as new. No harm done. Now, this being wartime, you are obligated to provide adequate food and shelter to soldiers, free of charge. I'm a reasonable man, though. Since my lieutenant has already made an agreement with you, we'll leave the thirty rations you were promised. And, of course, something for your child.” He waved to his squire. “Chad, bring the loot.”

The hatchback of one of the robot horses opened up and Chad the squire climbed out. He led another of the horses to where the Colonel stood over Clara. The horse was laden with chests and sacks. Destroyer set one of the chests on the ground and opened it up. It was packed with precious gems, gold coins, and jewelry. “Take a handful,” said Destroyer. “A talonful? Oh, hell, take two.” Clara didn't move. She didn't even look at the chest. “No?” said Destroyer. “Very well.” He scooped two big handfuls of loot out of the chest and dumped them on the ground. “Payment for your hospitality and recompense for loss and damages.”

Clara just hugged Charles and cried.

“All right, men,” Colonel Destroyer said. “Prepare to move out. We're heading South as far as South goes. Chad, pack up the loot. And find a horse strong enough to carry the giant.”

“Sir,” said Sheryl. “The Medi-Gel?”

“Oh, yes, take it out of the medikit. That's the horse with the apothecary symbol on its flank.”

The back of the medikit horse opened like a trunk. Sheryl found the supply of Medi-Gel. She took five tubes. Clara had returned to the house with Charles. Sheryl found her huddled in the loft with her five remaining children. “I'm so sorry about this,” Sheryl said. Clara didn't say anything. “I know this doesn't make up for what happened, but this Medi-Gel will heal Barbara. Smear it on her gums until she wakes up. Then have her eat a little at a time. One full tube should be enough to mend her bones and prevent any permanent damage. Save the rest of it for emergencies.” She paused. “Maybe give some to your cow. It might help with whatever ails her. Get her to start giving milk again.” Clara and her children said nothing. Sheryl left.

Zeck and Burts carried Barb inside and laid her on the downstairs bed. “How's that leg?” Sheryl asked Burts.

“Better, but not perfect. Like I said, I'm a fast healer.”

“Not fast enough for the Colonel. Your mount is unavailable. You'll have to walk. Hold out your hand.”

Burts did as she asked. She squeezed a little smear of Medi-Gel into his palm. “Eat that. It'll help.”

Burts nodded. “Thanks.” He licked at the bluish goop.

John and Steven sat at the table. Matthew was between them, his head face down on the table. “What happened?” Sheryl asked.

“We were watching out of the side window here,” said Steven. “When that horse ate the kid, Mathew fainted.”

“Can't say I blame him,” said John. “That was a nasty piece of business.”

Sheryl dug in her belt until she found a small capsule. “Smelling salt,” she said. “Hold his head up.”

When she cracked the capsule under Matthew's nose, he came to immediately. He buried his face in his hands and started crying.

“This is bullshit,” said Steven. “Do we really have to go with that fucking monster out there?”

“Honestly,” said Sheryl, “I'd much rather the two of you stayed here on the farm. Maybe even John, too. This morning, I asked Clara to keep you on as farmhands. But now, I don't think she wants to see any of us any longer. I know I wouldn't. If we asked, even now, maybe she'd let you stay. But you would be a daily reminder of what happened here today. Every time she looked at you, she'd see Michael's little face. I'll leave it up to you three. Ask her if you like. I'll be outside.”

Sheryl found Bob outside, asking around among the Tephra soldiers to see if there was a spare horse he could ride. “There's not enough,” said Sheryl. “You and I will have to walk.”

John, Matthew, and Steven emerged from the house. “I didn't ask,” said Steven. “You're right. We can't stay here.” Sheryl nodded.

Chad approached Sheryl with something in his hands. He gave it a quick wipe with a rag and presented it to her with his head bowed. “A Huntsman mask?” Sheryl said. Chad nodded. She took the mask. The chelicerae curved inward. The fangs on the end were sharp, though not so sharp as the Colonel's. Sheryl pulled up her cowl and attached the mask.

“That's more like it,” said Colonel Destroyer. He was astride Ouroboros once more. The horse's helmet had already been replaced by a spare. “Sheryl Teymore, in the Sparassa once more. We've missed you. Now, are you quite through with your ministrations? My men are ready. Chad has retrieved your horses and unloaded the promised rations for these farmers.”

“I'm ready, sir,” said Sheryl.

“And your prisoners? We have Meat Rom loaded up already. We really only need him and Burts. Do you still insist on bringing the rest along?”

“I insist,” she said.

“Very well. It'll be slow going with so many on foot. Burts, you're with me. Do stop babying that leg.” Destroyer swung his arm as if cracking a whip, though he held nothing in his hand. A long rope of spider silk shot from his glove. It wrapped around Burts's neck and stuck. Destroyer detached the end of the rope from his hand and stuck it to a post behind his saddle. “Chad! Cuffs.” Chad wrapped Burts's wrists tightly together with more webbing. “Do keep up, Fawth,” said Destroyer. “I know you can.”

“Son of a bitch,” said Burts. He spat, hitting Destroyer square in the back.

The Colonel only laughed and said, “Sally forth!”