A Thief On the Rise

Chapters

1: A foothold
2: Here comes Trouble
3: Would you like a cookie?
4: Following the chitin-plated Rabbit
5: Change(l)ing the Situation
6: Murder and Mystery
8: Second Wave
9: Authoritative Figures and a Dose of Fear
10: The Most Narrow of Escapes
11: A Man Needs His Medicine
12: Setting the Bear Trap
13: Dual Offences
14: Bullets and Baked Goods
15: Sleepy Conversation
16: Yes, Boss?
17: There are Two Kinds of Diplomats
18: About that Cycle...
19: Upon Arrival
20: Before the Debate
21: I Demand My Royalties!
22: The Good, the Bad, and the Snuggly
23: Bit Off More Than You Can Chew
24: Smile, Kid, it Looks Good on You
25: The Morning After
26: Well Read, Old Chap!
27: A Heart-to-Heart, All Blood Included
28: Stealing the Spotlight
29:It's Not a Diamond, But It's Close Enough
30: Party Hard in the Party Yard
31: A Word of Advice
32: Well, that's Depressing
33: Testing the Limits
34: Commanding Officer on Deck!
35: Some Pun About Stealing Eggs
36: Parks and Education
37: This isn't How the Law is Supposed to Work!
Interlude: The Contemplation of a Scientist
38: There's Theory, and Then There's Practice
39: You Know What They Say About Friends and Enemies
40: Catching a Human? Child's Play.
41: Colorblind Morality
Interlude: The Expansions of a Mage
42: A Single Bullet Could End it All
43: Arrested Development
44: D for Detainment
45: Can Anyone Even Find this Guy's Diploma? Cause I Sure Haven't Seen One
Prelude: A walking man
7: Not the smoothest heist

1: A foothold

On the horizon, one could see the moon making it's way down past a mountain, becoming a sliver as it skims down the side. The bright white semi-circle shined upon the thick green canopy of a dense forest. One that is out of reach for many, out of control for those in control. With animals untouched by the aid of ponies, weather moving on it's own, and areas unexplored, this forest truly is free.

Around the laying body of a fully dressed biped, a flock of sparrows landed, and began poking and prodding at this new, mysterious creature. The being shifted greatly since the start of his annoying examination, along with the fact that his wrists currently held a burning sensation, but that was degrading quickly. With the astounding speed of a sloth, his torso rose up, and met the broken morning starlight, sending many birds away. The flock quickly took to the air, and shot around until it found an open spot in the branches, except one, single sparrow.

Yes, as Kestral's eyes opened to the darkness, he instantly noticed this one, single sparrow, sitting in front of him. Watching him. Taking in all his features. Staring into the mans eyes with its own black oculars. But before he could question anything, the bird hopped up to his closed hand, and began pecking at it furiously. He opened his hand and let the bird do whatever it was trying to do. It saw a piece of paper taped to his palm, and it attempted to push his hand over. It failed, so instead it just took a bit of aim, and pierced his palms flesh as hard as it could.

SWAT

What was that for?!

He batted away the bird in a moment of anger for it having stabbed him in the hand with its beak. When he took to examine his hand, he found something astounding. On the palm of his hand was a folded piece of paper!

The hell?

He ripped off and unfolded the parchment. The writing was in cursive, but it almost looked, for lack of a better word, bland. It was handwritten, definitely, but the style was so precise it seemed it wasn't possible for natural hand movement. The letters were exactly the same every instance, with no variation in height, length, or angle. Every line was the same thickness, and the whole message didn't even vary in it's uniform look.

Move to the closest town.

Don't be seen.

You are needed.

All will be explained.

Check everything.

Leave nothing behind.

Kestral instantly looked around and quickly examined his surroundings. Even in the dark, he could make out a lot of differences. The sleeping trees were replaced with thicker, shorter, and much more lively trees than he slept near last night. One could even call it borderline jungle, given the few vines thrown about the place. The cold dry air had given way to a cool nighttime temperature that one could find sometime in spring, and the humidity was high enough to feel the difference, but not be any less bearable.

"Okay, so someone is fucking with me now. Great.... but how did they move me while i was asleep?!"

He shook his head. Don't know- Doesn't matter. While ascending to a standing position, he decided to go along with line 5 and 6 of the cryptic message. Not that he needed to be told to keep track of his crap, because he takes care of that every time he starts or stops resting.

Let's see...

Combat-Boots? Check! They didn't magically slide off in the middle of the night this time.

Combat-Pants, as black as the night, with my black machete sheath on my calf via nylon strap? Check!

Actual machete in sheath? Check!

The glorious nylon belt of holding for such pants? Check!

Two holsters attached? Yup!

Guns in each? .357 on my right, and the (extremely) sawed-off shotgun on my left. Double check!

Jet black utility vest? Always. Rifle bullets in the bottom row of pockets? Yes! Cash and wallets in other pockets? Definitely.

Battle hardened combat knife in its sheath, near my left shoulder? Never leave without it.

Short-barreled bolt-action Ruger strapped to the right side of trench coat with several nylon straps? Yup. Stupid gun makes it hard to not sit awkwardly.

He checked the contents of his trench coat pockets, finding pistol bullets and shotgun shells in each side of the coat, filling box-shaped pockets. Alright. He re-buttoned his coat, and glided his hands across the sleeves for a moment as if to confirm it was real, which was mostly un-felt due to his gray, fingerless gloves. The coat was a bit special to him. It was his choice to wear every time he traveled in the cold. When he bought it, the tag had called it a "courier's winter trench wear", meant for "long walks in snowy, freezing weather". The Dark leather reached down past the top of his combat boots, and the large hood covered his head. It originally had a buccal-mask made of cloth to protect much of the face as well, but it was long since ripped out by a conniving tree branch Kestral walked into once.

When he was done checking his on-body items, he turned towards the ground to find both of his bags at the end of a skid mark in the dirt, caked in dust. His backpack was opened and his universal gun cleaning kit was laying next to it, though nothing else appeared to have been ejected from the pack. He grasped the two items and packed the kit again, before dusting off the bag. He then grabbed his satchel and cleaned it as well.

With all his things in check, Kestral took a moment to decide what to do next, regarding the note. Whoever moved him obviously wasn't with police or of that sort, else he'd have woken in a jail cell. If he wanted Kestral dead, he'd have killed him instead of moving him, so whoever this was, had some sort of intentions that were completely unclear to Kestral.

Not only that, but if he really was moved into an unknown area, he'd have nothing to go on as for his actual location. For all he knew, he was now in a national forest or of the likes. He'd wished he had bought a compass when he had the chance, so he could tell where the cardinal directions were without waiting for the sun to show.

With not much to go on, he looked toward the bird that dug into his hand, which was now regarding Kestral with a curious gaze from the low branch of a nearby tree.

“Don't suppose you have an answer to where I should head.”

Almost as if those words were some kind of signal to the bird, it hopped down right in front of him, looked him straight in the eye, and started hopping down a straight line, somewhere off to his right. When it reached a certain distance, it looked back at him expectantly, as if it were waiting for a child.

“Uhh...” Kestral took a step toward the bird. As he did, it hopped about another foot, and waited again, just as patiently as a moment before. He wasn't sure how to take it, but he thought of a reasonable excuse nonetheless. “Alright, fine. Whoever left the note must have trained you.” He hesitantly began walking in the birds direction. “Take me to this town, wherever the hell it is.”

And so it did. With each step Kestral took, the sparrow matched the same distance in a hop or two. It didn't even try flying. It just bounced it's way forward, without a care in the world.

“Well this'll be jovial.”

As he set forth on his unknown journey, he failed to realize that he had left a critical piece of technology behind.

A single brass casing with a copper colored bullet held in it's end laid on the ground. One of the sparrows eyed it curiously before gliding down to it from above. It poked and prodded it several times before it made a single, determined thought.

Master will love shiny!

It eagerly grabbed the shell and made a speedy ascent, dodging all the branches and leaves, and burst off toward a distance location.

It had been two hours since he had started that walk, and Kestral was beginning to get a bit hungry. He had drank his last water bottle, but instead of throwing it into a bush, he kept it in his satchel, in case he found a good water supply. His food was limited to say the least. Since eating his sandwich the night before, he was down to his emergency food, A rather plentiful pile of Slim Jim's beef jerky. He would rather not make a meal of them all, since they last a good while in their package.

At that moment, he was casually chewing on a piece of jerky, making the taste last as long as he could, while contemplating how he should go about finding his next meal.

He could just last off the jerky for a while, until he had reached his destination, and then either ask or buy food from there. That option would prove unpredictable, however, given he didn't even know where he was going.

Hunting food seemed to be his only other option, given that Kestral has proven to himself just how much he sucks at finding edible berries. Last time he ate some wild berries, they gave him the screaming shits. However, it would prove another problem. Gunshots would be very dangerous if he set them off near the wrong area or people. Unless he found a pillow out there in the wilderness, intact, then there wasn't going to be any silencing his rifle. Using a knife is something he'd be able to do, if he could sneak up on his prey.

Times like this make me wish I could have brought my bow.

Kestral looked around his surroundings. The forest was much brighter now that the sun was rising from behind him, even with the heavy greenery blocking out much of the light. A couple birds would fly around him, though none that stayed any longer than a jiffy.

Out of sheer boredom, he had pulled out his machete from it's sheath on his right leg, and was tossing it from one hand to the other, and back again. By then, he had gotten pretty good at his reflexes when catching it. Not any better than an amateur blades-man, but he had definite improvement from the nearly daily practice. He could make it twist in the air and catch it backwards, then twirl it around in his fingers. By now, he was getting ballsy enough to try and catch it by the blade.

SHINK -Which then resulted in another cut along his fingerless glove. Dang, gunna need to replace these soon at this rate.

As Kestral picked the blade up from the ground, he decided to stop screwing around with it and placed it back in it's sheath. Straightening his back again, his placed his hand on his left hip to undo the fixture holding his bless-ed double-barrel shotgun. With the ripping of Velcro, he whipped out his boom-stick and took in the beautiful sight.

The barrel was far below what was legal for him, at only about a foot length, give or take an inch, and the stock was mostly cut off as well. He broke over the side-to-side barrels and looked to ensure it was loaded. When he saw the two brass-colored shells there, he took one out to remind himself of what exactly he had loaded into the gun in the first place.

The shell was a standard 12-gauge buckshot, except for one vital difference. A cut was made along the middle, going all the way around where a little bit of overlap could be seen with about an eighth of an inch in between. This little difference caused any buckshot to shoot the same as a slug, by catching part of the shell along with the shot. Typically isn't great for pump or auto shotguns, as they can possibly cause a jam in the loading mechanism. It's great for buying just buckshot in bulk and being able to turn it into a slug at will, that way, Kestral would never run out of one and be forced to use the other.

He placed the shell back in and flipped the barrel back into it's ready position. His fingers laid softly next to the two triggers that patiently awaited his command. While still following the sparrow, he casually aimed it toward the ground in front of him. To him, the situation is already quite weird and he could only guess something was bound to happen.

The nimble cat raced from tree to tree, doing it's best to get ahead of it's newly found game without it's notice. The jet black fur of the feline made it difficult to stay hidden after twilight hours. With every step came the careful calculation of the next by the ferocious predator. It's paws struck the earth many times without a single sound, only proving it's cunning and skill.

The cat made low movements when needed, in order not to be seen by the prey whenever it looked back at the strange creature that casually followed it. The cat slowly made it's way toward the hopping bird. It drew the claws it was so used to using since it's first release into the true freedom of the forest. They had only grown sharper since their first use, and by now are deadly weapons to be feared.

The wild feline poked it's head from a tree and awaited it's prey with a piercing gaze.

Kestral continued his path, one that he already found to be quite tedious. Over two hours and just about nothing had happened. The forest had thinned out marginally, meaning the vine coverage was lessened, but all else was the same.

Mostly he had been trying to entertain himself with thoughts on the next Halloween coming up, wondering just how many bags of candy he can nab, along with thoughts on how he will look completely inconspicuous that night with his getup.

Thoughts on delicious Snicker's© were floating around his mind when he heard a bloodthirsty 'meow' come from a nearby tree.

With the speed of it's inner cheetah, a black cat pounced atop the pseudo-guide-bird and began clawing it limb from limb. Kestral ran up to it and kicked the cat as one would a football, but it was too late. As the would-be predator flew away into the foliage, the poor, little sparrow laid on the ground, feathers strewn about, breathing it's final breaths.

It maneuvered itself around, trying to force itself up, but without any good result. It then quit attempting to avoid the inevitable, and relaxed to it's side, making it seem a little more at ease with the situation. With it's chest lowering slowly, and blood draining out it's body, it looked at Kestral with a gaze of worry and unfulfillment, with only a glint...a small, flickering flame of hope that there lay something beyond, something more than the enclosing chill it felt running along it's exposed skin.

It hoped for a final goodbye before the darkness arrived, but there it was; Death spread it's wings, leading the glint of hope through an eternal darkness, using the path that only blind faith may see.

Kestral shook his head as he stepped towards the same direction the late bird was leading. “Stupid bird, you weren't supposed to die on me. Now how am I going to find your owner?” He asked, almost apathetic to it's demise.

Nothing more than an angered cat answered him with it's trademarked 'meow' and all it's predation.

Kestral whipped out his revolver, placed the shotgun back, and quickly checked the contents of bullets before taking aim at the jet black cat. A small amount of apathy gave way to vengeance as he savored those few seconds. With a speedy pull of the trigger, the copper-covered bullet burst it's way forward and hit a mass of flesh, weakening the animal it hit until said animal crumpled to the ground in pain.

The animal he hit, however, was not the cat. It was a large mass of wooden flesh, shaped in a way that he could only identify as 'canine'.

“What the shit?” He asked himself.

The pseudo-wolf laid in pain from the bullet wound now in it's front leg. The cat was dead within it's maw, but the eyes of the beast gathered Kestral's attention. They were glowing, at least from what he could tell. He really wasn't sure what he was looking at. It was quite a sight to him, but he found it more weird than interesting. It's eyes flickered between open and closed until they finally rested on a nearly lidded, almost distant look.

Nailed it just above the front leg. Must have torn up the heart.

Before he could contemplate it further, he heard a growling sound off to his left. When he looked, he saw at least two other pairs of eyes that matched the carcass in front of himself.

“Черт.” (Chert- Damn) He immediately checked his surroundings to find anyplace useful. Seeing a good opportunity, he sprinted to a tree and sprung himself up. He grasped where he could and speedily ascended. He went from the lowest split in the old oak tree to the next one up, helping him stay out of reach in the event a wolf jumped up. Hand still on his revolver, he faced his body where he got up and readied himself mentally.

Almost as he predicted it, the two wolves skulked their way to a position under Kestral's new hiding place. The two pairs of slightly glowing eyes stared at him in a hungry manner, planning a new strategy to get their target. The one closest to the tree jumped up in an attempt to get it's new game, but failed to reach high enough to get up.

When repeated attempts to get up resulted in nothing, the dog made way for it's friend. The canine leaped up and landed halfway in the nook of the tree, making it difficult to climb further. It pressed its hind legs against the tree, but without result. It was stuck.

Kestral used this to his advantage. With barely a thought, he jumped down onto the wolf, landing one foot on its head, and the other on its spine. This didn't go according to plan, however, as the wolf only howled as a response, instead of having its vital nervous system split or it organs crushed.

Instead of wasting a good bullet, Kestral threw his revolver into his left hand, and went for the machete placed on his leg. After getting a firm grip, he pulled it out and angled his body before he plunged the blade into the canine. The dog let out a whimper for a second, before going limp and completely silent.

As he pulled the weapon out, he focused again on the wolf that failed to jump, it being the last one. As he did, he readied both his revolver and machete, one in each hand. The dog quickly realized the fact that its teammates were dead, and took in its options.

The canine looked at the beast before it. The strange bipedal creature had slain two of its brothers mercilessly before its very eyes. The dog cowered at each of the metal items in the bipeds appendages. It began to back away from the tall creature, slowly, then sped up and ran off with haste. Survival was the only thing on its mind. A lone wolf, was a dead wolf, so it had retreated towards the safety of its brethren, somewhere in the dark forest, a ways away.

Kestral watched as the wolf of wood burst off into the brush, leaving Kestral all alone again. He looked down at the carcass he stood upon with some curiosity. He had no idea what it was he just killed two of, but he didn't want to wait for more to show up. While he jumped down from the tree, he thanked whatever god was watching for not having run into a large hunting party.

He walked over to the first wolf shot, and knelt down to get a closer look. Chips and chunks of bark seemed to layer all over the canine, with smooth but natural texture on the surface. As he dug his fingers around, he realized that there was an oddity about it. He pressed his fingers against the bullet-wound and a sort of green-red liquid pushed out. Kestral stood up again, shaking his head.

He had heard of ghost stories, monster sightings, tales of myths new and old, but he didn't know what to make in front of him. All he could know for certain was one thing:

Something is seriously fucked up around here.

Wherever he was the day before, he wasn't then. Something had happened, and it was making him a little bit antsy to figure out what was going on. He had thought over his options, and concluded with the idea that this incident probably had to do with whoever was screwing with him. Only time would tell if this guy knew anything.

Before Kestral went anywhere, there was something he wanted to take care of first. He took out his machete again, and placed it on the neck of the wolf in front of him. With a clean swing, he took off the head, causing a large amount of blood to drain out. He grabbed it by the ear, which was rather strong, and pulled it up to his side.

Cutting off the head of a coyote and setting it somewhere would keep more coyotes from coming too close, supposedly. Since coyotes and wolfs are both canine, he thought it may work the same way. It was something worth trying out, at least, for him.

With his free hand, he placed the blade back in it's sheath, and did the same with the revolver. He looked at some of the miniscule glints of sunlight coming from the east. Remembering it coming from behind him prior to the encounter, he set off westward to find this mysterious bird-owner, and to find out what was going on.

Mr. Peddling was not atypical for a pony his age. His coat was somewhere between a tan and a cream color. His mane, dyed a dark chocolate, was slicked back, giving him a no-funny-business look about him. The tuft of hair at his hooves, like nearly all ponies at the time, was grown out to hide the hooves, except for the shining horseshoes he wore, which could seem quite worn by then.

The lone, red tie around his neck felt a little loose, but he could fix that at another time. It was nearly noon, and he wanted to get his shop set up in this town before day's end. It didn't occur to him how long a walk from one side of the Everfree to the other would take.

He looked back at his cart again, ensuring the weight he was pulling was actual goods, and not just his heightening age. Particularly, he stared for a small while at the wobbly wheel at the side, looking like it could break off if not taken care of soon.

Hmm. Maybe I can get somepony to buy this piece of crap? He thought to himself. He smirked, it wouldn't be the first nor last time he ripped off somepony. Most of the 'trinkets' and 'ornaments' he was selling was hoof-crafted, first-rate junk. A bit of his stock was legitimate, if only to help sell off the fake goods by making him seem more real.

He looked back to his front, focusing more on his imagination than anything. He knew the girls in his herd really didn't like his shady way of dealing like this, but it was good money, and they needed that. He can even imagine his head mare, Rosemane, coming up to him after dinner, telling how she thought it simply wasn't like him to be like that. Then he would kiss her on the lips, slowly.

And, oh, how passionate that kiss was! He would pull her into the bedroom, a few steps at a time. Each step kissing her again, whispering his love to her, how much she means to him. He would then work his way down and back with each kiss on her body. Nudging her into the bed, he'd then work his way from her chest to her-

CRACK

Suddenly he felt his body fall some to the right side. The pony shot his head back at the sound behind him. In a swift movement, he unhitched himself and went around to the side of his cart, observing the damage. The wheel that was wobbling earlier had hit a hole in the dirt, and the axle-tip had snapped off from the leveraged force acting on it, bringing the wheel with it.

“Naw sheee-it.” He huffed. This simply caused a number of problems. Mostly, he was worried most about if this would set him back a day on setting up the vending booth. He looked at down the path he was heading through. He gave himself an idea. “Well, it shouldn't be that far by now. If I hurry, I can get this thing fixed and at the market 'for noon!”

With nearly tangible confidence, he raced onward, trusting that nothing will happen to his things...

Kestral walked...again, through the forest, but with considerably more purpose in his footsteps. He felt the need to find out what had happened to him until that point, and by finding that bird-owner he hoped to do just that. He pressed westward, hoping to at least find a clue of his location beyond 'I’m in a friggen forest'.

He hadn't come across any more of those pseudo-wood-wolves, as he had then begun to call them, but he could not tell if it was the skull he carried or simple coincidence that he didn't. Regardless, he had pressed on, impatient for a revelation until he had come up to a dirt road.

Skull still held tightly, he took in the scene before him. It was nothing special, just a regular, worn, dirt road. The trees gave way a small bit over the road, letting in extra light, which several shrubs were absorbing greedily along the treeline. What caught his eye, was a wooden cart, lopsided and broken, several meters up the path. It looked as if it had been abandoned, given a lack of men around it trying to fix it up, or a horse to pull it. For a moment, he began to wonder if he had stumbled upon the land of the Amish.

He approached the device with a bit of curiosity. It looked small, simple as that. At it's full, regular height, it could not possibly be higher than his stomach. To him it was just not usual for a horse to only pull something so small. Perhaps it was a handcart? No matter to him. Instead of caring about the details of the cart before him, he decided to care about contents, to find anything useful.

Kestral placed his hand under the tarp that covered the device, and forced up. He failed, and quickly realized that the whole thing was hooked on the outside. After lifting the rings off several hooks, he threw the corner over and peered inside.

Most of what he saw was useless crap. Nick-knacks and trinkets were piled high on the far side, while a few bags were sitting in the almost vacant near side. Before he did anything with them, he checked around again, just to make sure no-one was looking. When he felt the coast was clear, he grabbed the nearest of the three bags that were sitting there and dumped the contents onto the wooden bed of the cart.

Several gold coins fell out, looking oddly similar to gold dollars of U.S. Currency. But he caught on that they weren't, since they were much thicker than any U.S. Money he has seen before. He grabbed one and observed it. On the front was a half moon and half sun on the whole side. Turning it around, he could see some unknown writing spelling out along the top, along with a word at the bottom and the number '1'.

He didn't really know what he was looking at, but by the presence of the Arabic number '1', he could guess that it was a form of money. Maybe a rare Indian artifact. If so, it was in damn good condition. Ought to sell well.

He put the dumped coins back in the bag and took the bag with him, seeing not much else being of use, and he thought one bag would be plenty to sell. He pulled the tarp back over and walked around. He pressed around until he was just deep enough into the woods to barely see the road, then marched parallel to it.

Not actually knowing his way around this area, he decided to move along the dirt path until he came across a major road.

Mr. Peddling arrived back at his cart soon enough, with two strong mares towing their own cart full of supplies. As he trotted up to his things, he noticed the hooks were undone but left at the side, so he assumed it was just another faulty device of his somehow. He quickly got a bag out and gave the needed payment for the repair, leaving not much left. When the needed money was procured he set the bag back under the tarp without looking and went along watching the young ladies work away on those repairs.

It was then that he realized something. Didn't he have three bags? He had only seen two, but maybe that was just his mind slipping. He shook his head. Perhaps he'd check again later, but right then he just needed that wheel fixed.

Kestral moved along the road, still. He could have sworn he had seen candy-colored....something run down the road toward the broken cart. He hadn't gotten a good view through the bush he ducked down behind.

Whatever. He thought, as he continued onward. The trees were losing their thickness quickly. The vines were nearly gone, and the canopy was opening up more. A whiff of fresh air brought a new smell. Lavender and Rose came to his mind, but only marginally, as the smell of ripe grass made it's way around him. He was able to walk right up to the edge of whatever forest lay behind him, and see a small empty plain, full of grass and flowers.

Beyond that lay a town. One that looked like it was a large medieval village. Straw rooftops dotted the area, with large parts being entirely made of them. Way off to the side, large barns could be seem, presumably for farms. Several less identical buildings were scattered around, but Kestral could not be sure of their purpose yet. An awful lot of birds were flying about it. Big ones, too.

Damn large settlement if it is the Amish.

If Kestral had done his homework, he'd have known that the Amish were well past thatched houses in terms of technology. But he didn't, so he was as oblivious to real Amish life as an Irishman to an empty beer glass. The detail mattered little, because as soon as he had taken a small step towards the place, he heard flapping sound come at him.

As he looked at the source above him, he spotted another sparrow. The little bird dropped down in Kestral's face, with some sort of paper in its beak. Not long after, it dropped the parchment onto Kestral's chest, before flying onto a nearby branch. Kestral sighed as he grabbed the paper. It was quite a surprise to him that this bird trainer found him twice already. He unrolled the piece of paper and began reading the contents.

Dear Kestral...

“Oh crap, he knows my name too.”

… I ask that you take this letter with utmost seriousness. First, do not go into that town until dusk. Many that reside within these lands have never seen a human and fear them greatly. I chose you because you are able to abide to such discretion.

Now, onto the true matter at hand. What I am asking from you is very serious. I need you to help me stop a threat that I have very little capability in stopping myself at this time. I opted to not use the local...resources, because those that are able, would not be willing. Too many are brainwashed into believing that an event like this could not happen again so soon, and others that know me would not or do not believe in the threat I perceive.

There are a great number of tasks that I need done, and you are one of the only tools at my disposal. It is imperative that you do not get caught or killed. We shall discuss more very soon, my new friend. I left a small gift for you to help you out a bit.

Take care.

P.S.

You got a bird of mine killed. Follow this one instead, pStalkers Koverti.

Kestral wadded up the paper and stuck it in one of his many pockets. He had little idea what was going on, but he could tell that he may have fell into a rabbit hole. Looking around, he spotted the bird up in the tree again. The beautiful little sparrow, with it's an off-white breast, and dark, woodland wings, sat contentedly next to a small, open, cardboard box precariously balanced on a branch.

Upon Kestral spotting the box, the bird took it as a queue and jumped toward the box, smashing it's face into the side. Said item toppled down, spilling it's contents onto the ground. Kestral watched the whole thing rather passively, before looking at the bird in the noon sun. It sat rather lopsided, but still content nonetheless.

Alright, I guess this is that 'gift'. I wonder what it could be.

He walked over to it, and filtered through the items on the ground. One was a black piece of metal shaped into a rough 'y', with another piece that swivels around and stops about 90 degrees from the other side of the other piece.

Hmm. A slingshot? Why would he give me the bane of house windows?

He kept going through, the next item he snatched was a small black box, with bold letters stamped on the top reading '3/8th inch steel balls: 70 count'. He popped open the box and emptied it in one of his smaller pockets on his vest. He could at least appreciate being given quality ammo, even if he doesn't know what for, yet. He grabbed the box and checked to see if anything else was meant for him. When nothing caught his eye he dropped the box and leaned up against the tree it was setting in not a minute ago.

He pondered the words written on that paper, and truly started to take in what he had read. The part that concerned him the most, was saying that none in the town before his eyes had seen a human. Either he was dealing with a nutjob, who can track Kestral down with birds, and move his body whist he is asleep, or he was in a very serious situation concerning his own sanity. On top of that, the population was supposedly inhospitable towards humans, the area is completely unknown to him, and there are wolves covered in freaking wood armor for no apparent reason.

So far, everything just keeps going south.

“Oh well, it's probably not like I just walked into a world of sun-worshiping pagans bent on catching and killing me. Right?”

He looked at the bird, watching it get anxious all of a sudden.

“Never mind, just don't die on me like the last one.”

Kestral would later regret those statements.

2: Here comes Trouble

Kestral paced around under the bird's nest quietly. The more he thought about the situation, the more he realized that he may end up in something deep if he didn't figure out for himself what was going on. A little, unnoticed stroll into town won't hurt anyone, right?

Of course, not everything goes to plan, so he decided to stand here and observe the town a little more before heading in. It was at this point that he noticed the things flying around were definitely not birds. They were simply too misshapen to be so. What they were was probably a less important detail, so he cared little at the time.

Considering he was wearing nearly all black, Kestral would be quite easy to spot. He would have to wait until it was all clear before he could move around. At least, assuming the population really was hostile to him. The wolf head, he simply dropped. It was probably no use to him in a civilized town anyway.

With a long glance, he could see it was his chance. No one was milling about, and the misshapen birds were no longer gliding around too closely. With all his supplies packed up and his new toy in a coat pocket, he ran over as fast as he could to cross the clearing. He hopped over a fence and bolted to the random stack of hay just on the side of the building.

It was difficult to crouch with the rifle on the inside of his coat, so the piece of clothing was thrown back some, to alleviate the constriction. The stone wall of what was presumably a small house lined up well enough with the hay, sealing one side, and covering any cracks between the two.

He peeked his head around the hay and watched for any movement. One of the flying things flew high overhead, and some were hovering around clouds, but none too close. He moved up closer to the front corner and peered around the whole street. On the whole street, there were just two of those...things next to another house.

Now that Kestral got a closer look, he could make out some details. They were definitely candy colored, one being a midnight blue and the other being a cream color with rose hair. From what he could tell, they only looked about three feet tall. Quadruped looking as well. They looked as if they were some kind of equine, but one could not truly call it a 'horse'. The eyes were too large, snout too small, and body too small to call it so. For now he'd just call them ponies.

It was hard for him to believe candy-colored ponies would be hostile to him, but then again, it was difficult to believe they even existed. Well, he hadn't heard them talk yet, or do anything intelligent, so maybe they were mutants with paint on them, as far as he could tell.

Well, let's find out, shall we?

He pulled out his spanking new slingshot and a steel ball. He leaned at the corner of the house just at an angle that he can get a shot off at the the house. He slid the shot into the leather pouch and pulled back hard on it. He aimed toward the front porch of the house the two equines were in front of, and focused said aim at the window. Holding his breath, he took the shot, and released the pouch.

SMASH.

Kestral observed the two equines and listened carefully. Quite clearly, he could hear one of them yell 'my window' in such a panicked way that he felt mildly sorry for having done it. Only mildly. But if he could get away with it, hopefully he could get one alone so he could talk to him or her. If most have never seen a human before, they might not recognize one right off the bat, right? Perhaps he could get information about what they know about humans.

One of them, the blue one with dark blue and white hair, ran off along the street and disappeared around the corner, leaving the off-white equine with red hair alone. The perfect chance. He got up and hurried over to the 'pony' of sorts, hood down and only in a jog, to prevent from scaring her or him.

Roseluck was having what was simply a bad day. First, somepony had eaten a good dozen of her flowers, and now somepony had just broken her window. Her friend Colgate just ran off to go get the local window repair-pony. At least it was a window and not an eye.

Of course, fate always had a bad habit of making things go from bad to worse. As she got over to inspect the broken glass, she heard a voice call out from behind her.

“Excuse me ma'am, I heard a shattering sound from over here, is everything all right?” Said the moderately deep voice. She turned around, expecting a guard or so, and began to answer. “Oh yeah, i'm fine it's just....a....window...” She slowed her answer as she took in the sight of what was actually the caring speaker.

To her, it looked like a mutant minotaur, of sorts. It was roughly six feet tall, which was almost double her height, and biped. The clothing on it was nearly all black, except for it's satchel, which was a chocolate brown. It's lower appendages flattened out into what appeared to be a foot, like a monkey's, while it's higher appendages ended off with what looked like hands, also like a monkey's. The face of the creature was more flat than most creatures, with small facial features in comparison to a pony's. The eyes were especially small, too small to even tell the color, or be sure where they are really pointing.

The skin of the being, since there was no fur, was mildly pale, but one could not tell if it was naturally that way or simply a sickness of sorts. The hair contrasted the skin, because of it's dark chocolate color. It looked as if it was cut ridiculously a short time ago and was just now starting to get some length. The stubble around it's chin stretched to it's ears , though looking more patchy than the hair on top, perhaps by an amateur attempt to cut it without a mirror.

Simply by looking at the creature before her, Roseluck's mind started a fuzzing feeling, as if the description of this being was quite familiar. Her mind had made some kind of connection, because she started itching to know more. So she extended the conversation by asking “I'm sorry, have we met before?”

The being smiled and shook his head. “No, I suppose not, but my name is Kestral Petrovski. Local human. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, low enough for her to interact with, expecting a returning gesture.

What he got was a hyperventilating pony who already forgot how to regulate breathing. She began backing away slowly. “You're a...a hu... hu... hu...man??” She burst out as fast as she could, screaming. “Guards! Guards!! LYRA! WHAT DO I DO?!?!”

Kestral watched her with irritation, mostly at the high pitched voice. Whatever she thought about humans, it was not a kind thought.

Wait- shit, she's getting the fuzz out here! Gotta bail.

He high-tailed it back across the street and past the house, not caring if a bystander noticed him. If he got back in the forest he'd have a better advantage anyway, so he did just that as quickly as he could. As soon as he got back into the brush, he looked back and checked for any possible pursuers for a good minute. He would have kept looking , but that's when he heard his new friend's voice first.

“Did I not tell you to stay out until dusk?” Scolded the voice. “And you were seen, too? Such shame, I thought you were better at hiding.”

Kestral looked around, peering through all the brush, attempting to find the hidden voice. He searched for the owner of said voice, but found nothing.

“Don't bother looking for me, i'm not actually here.”

He really was getting tired of this crap already. Not knowing what was going on was not exactly Kestral's favorite situation. “Alright, fine. What do you want with me?”

“Hmm. Straight to the point. I like that right now.” The voice led on. “Very well. The situation is this: People, specifically these ponies that you met, are in danger, and I need you to reduce the death toll as much as possible.”

Kestral took in every word with mild criticism, which skyrocketed at the end. “That's uh...that's pretty damn blunt, just telling a guy to go and save lives 'n shit. If they are in danger, why not save them yourself?” He asked, not even hiding skepticism.

“To be straight, I’m imprisoned.” Said the voice, without any more information to give yet.

“Uh huh. So how are you talking to me? Last I heard prisoners weren't allowed to have cellphones.” Probably some kind of radio rigged to speakers.

“Magic.” was all the voice gave.

“Don't be a...nevermind. If you don't want to tell me, just say it.”

“I'm serious, magic is a common thing in this world. I can even detect traces within you.”

What the hell does he mean this world? “Okay, fine,” It would definitely explain why wolves can grow wood for armor. He decided to play along with this lunatic. At least he can get information on how messed up he is. “assuming magic does exist, since when was it common in 'this world'.”

“Well, for all time. It really isn't like your world, where magic died out.” the voice said.

“What is that suppose to mean, 'your world'. Am I not still in Kansas?” Asked Kestral. Stupid question by now actually. Never heard of talking 'ponies' in America.

The voice gave a low, amused laugh. “No, I suppose you are not. I brought you here to aid me, to be my tool because I am imprisoned.” It paused. “ But I think you want proof, don't you?”

Kestral gave a “Hell yeah I do” in response.

“Very well, do as I asked earlier, and don't get seen again. Wait until dusk to move into the town, and I shall provide ample evidence of why I need your help eliminating the threat. But you need to understand, this isn't going to get done over night. I will need you for months.”

Kestral thought about the situation he was in. It couldn't be a very pleasant one if he got caught, but it was probably a lot better than being sent to prison back on earth. There was one thing Kestral wanted to know about though...

“What kind of reward do I get? Assuming i agree to go along with your plan.” Not the most selfless of questions, but if he had to be brought into crap like this he wanted something more than experience out of it.

“You really are a thief, aren't you?...How about this: While you are doing your part to save ponies, you can also steal money and items, bring them back to me, and I shall...well, we'll talk about that later.”

Kestral sat in contemplation for a moment before speaking. “I was totally thinking stuff like a Swiss bank account loaded with cash, but if you got something better i'm game. Alright, see you.”

An echo of what sounded like a clap could be heard. “Well perfect. Go ahead and hunt or forage if you want, just don't go into the town until dusk. I shall see you then.”

And with that, the voice was gone. Presumably. There wasn't a noise to go with it's disappearance, so it was hard for him to be sure. Kestral really didn't mind, though. At the time, he was thinking and adding up all the evidence that he was given. As ambiguous as the term 'magic' is, it could definitely explain what he has seen so far. Talking ponies? Magic. Wolves in perfect wood armor? Magic. Birds that can find you anywhere? Magi- okay, maybe just well trained. Dude claimed to commit wizardry from his prison? Freaking magic. Said dude pulled your body from it's sleeping place to send you to a freaking world where everyone is going to be racist towards you? Magic. Or human trafficking, either one works.

Well, he thought, I suppose this makes things a lot easier, doesn't it?Either i'm in a coma, or dead, or this is real. This doesn't look like hell to me so that rules out one of those. He pondered the other options quickly. And I don't think I’d just fall into a coma at random.

He shook his head. “Nope, guess I’ll just believe this is real.”

Kestral took a longing look towards the town, watching a couple of the 'ponies' float around in the air with their wings near where he got away. None of them seemed to notice him, so maybe they weren't really trying or they just are all near-sighted. Either one works, but this time he was going to wait until dusk, like he was told.

He turned around toward the forest and began to walk, brought his revolver out and watched carefully. He wanted to get a meal this time.

In the secluded area prairie outside of town, the one next to the Everfree, there lays but one house. It is a modest home, but plenty for only one pony to own. It sets on a small dirt hill and has a path leading from the elevated entrance to the lower surroundings. Thatched roof is what it had, which was normal for the town. The fireplace stood its end, awaiting the day it can be used again. A great number of animals and critters made their home there, along with the injured ones that were urging to go back to unseen families or hordes.

Yes, Fluttershy's home was quite the welcoming one. Even ponies seem to feel the warm incandescence of hospitality that is present. Many of the animals do what they can to show appreciation, as much as animals can.

Which isn't much.

But one bird, in particular, was rather good at his gifts. He could never tell a soul, but his name was 'Avio', perhaps someday he could earn a better name, when someone adopted him. His gifts were good because he simply found the shiniest thing he could see, and when noone was looking, he took it. Some of his gifts turned out to be spare bits, small diamonds, or even, with help from his fellow sparrows, a small tool. Not that Avio knew what these things were, he simply knew that his master loved shiny things.

What he was carrying that day, though, was no ordinary shiny object. It was quite unique in its design. It had a heavy, copper-colored end that smoothed down to a point, with the rest of it being mostly cylindrical and brass-colored. Avio cared little, though. As long as master liked it, he liked it.

It was a shame, really, that master was gone at the time Avio had arrived with his gift. So instead, he had perched himself up on the roof, awaiting the time when master came home.

Of course, not all is as planned. As he was resting, a carrot had been thrown and smacked Avio in the face. He dodged the second one, barely, and got a glimpse of who the thrower was. It was none other than Angel the Rabbit. His arch-nemesis had woken from his mid-day nap, and was now attempting to ruin Avio's glorious tribute to master.

Avio retaliated by flying up and away, but a stray carrot managed to hit him yet again. The golden treasure was tossed about and landed in the grass. Avio looked in the eyes of his enemy, and watched him do the same. Both were determined to get the prize.

Avio dive-bombed for the valuable piece while Angel burst forth with his longest jumps. Avio quite nearly grasped the prize, but Angel got it first, blowing a raspberry at Avio as he sprinted back to the cottage. Avio was not willing to give up easily, however, and shot after the demon-bunny.

Angel had gone through the door and slammed it shut, locking each of the locks as locked as locks lock. What he did not notice, however, was that Avio had slipped in at the last second. What he did notice, was that Avio was then pecking all over Angel violently in order to force a drop. Angel took the bullet and smacked Avio away in a powerful swing.

Avio hit a pillow with his trajectory, and recovered easily. He flew at Angel and grasped for the brass piece successfully and flew off for the kitchen, where he perched above a boiling pot of water. Presumably, it was waiting for it's owner to come and place food it, but said owner was not there at the time, so it was setting there, awaiting the time for use.

Angel refused to give up, and found a nearby carrot. He aimed as well as he could and threw with all his might. The carrot struck the bullet, forcing Avio to lose his grip. In what seemed to be in slow-motion, both watched as the treasure fell into the water, where neither could attain it's promises of proving either being the best pet of Fluttershy.

Angel grabbed a spoon and tapped it on the ground as a sort of ritual, indicating the request for a dual of honor. Avio was pissed, so he glided down in front of Angel and let out a screech to intimidate him before the battle. The two locked eyes, both showing nothing less than pure rage at each other. They charged, fully intending to damage the other brutally.

BOOM

But alas, the fight would stave off another day. Avio flew by Angel harmlessly, and took his cowardice with his self upstairs. Angel, with his good hearing, was considerably frightened by the loud sound that came from the pot.

But what frightened him more, was the sound of the click on the door lock.

Kestral was once again surrounded by foliage. The warm air somehow penetrated the woods and blew by him at a turtle's pace. The sunlight was also quite shielded, but only to the point of restricting direct sunlight, not all sight. He noticed these things long ago, but put them out of mind when his thoughts were plagued with hunting his next meal.

He didn't know what exactly he could hunt. He didn't know the area and was unsure of what he would find. Since it was a forest with mild temperatures, though, it couldn't be that far from animals back in Kansas, right?

Regardless, he moved on in thought, paying close attention to the sounds of the forest. The tree limb beneath his boots gave a slight budge under his weight, but not enough to danger him in the least. The squirrels had bolted off a while ago, but many of the other species stayed a distance from Kestral and watched with undying curiosity.

On the tree only about ten feet from Kestral's was an unlucky squirrel with a knife pinning it to the back. Not only that, but blood was smeared from the poor animal all over. Now all he had to do was wait for a predator to come and get his final meal. The blood in the air would attract something to the trap, which was why Kestral had been careful not to get blood on himself earlier. A primitive trap, truly, but it was effective.

Kestral worried little. From what he knew, the bigger and more dangerous predators typically hunted at night or in the Twilight times. Unless, of course, they felt threatened by his presence, in which case he was screwed regardless. He was honestly expecting something along the lines of a fox. What he was NOT expecting, however, was this half-chicken half-snake beheld in front of him.

It looked like some poor snake had mistaken chicken eggs for it's own and made a mess around them with it's wife. To Kestral, it was simply not worth worrying about, which was why in spite of his shock, he was still placing his revolver back and pulling out his rifle.

He held his breath and aligned the barrel of the gun to the white feathers on the body. He aimed higher to the head and waited. The quick pecking from the creature made it difficult to get a good shot there, so he lowered his aim again to about the neck, where his shot would be both critical and easy.

He pulled slowly on the trigger, awaiting the shock of the bullet to push on his shoulder.

To his mild surprise, the trigger didn't move. Right. Safety. He Flicked his finger around and pressed on the safety to release the trigger again. He pulled down slowly on the trigger again, until finally-

Another cockatrice slithered out towards the first and coiled itself around it.

Kestral sighed a sigh of defeat at another failed hunt. As he lowered his gun he acknowledged the chance that if he shot one, the other may attack him. Unknown creatures are not his taste for fighting, so he decided to play it safe. He didn't put up his gun, just in case something happened, but he did lower it into a more comfortable hold.

He watched as one of the freaks carried off the other some distance away, possibly to do things that Kestral will not speak of. As they left his vision, he dropped down and walked over towards the half-eaten squirrel, pulled the knife out of the blood-covered bark and placed it back in it's sheath. Another, even more defeated sigh escaped his lips as he carried himself away. He realized that the squirrel would have been good enough to last him until later, but then even that option was thrown out.

Back to the Slim-Jims I guess.

Kestral was already back in his new comfy spot at the edge of the town, sitting down with a frown at his empty stomach. The whole ordeal had taken a few hours time, and the sun was already about to complete it's descent. A few more wrappers stuck out from his pocket, just to be sure not a soul finds a trail from him.

Since he began waiting, he had started and stopped several times the action of looking through his scope and observing the town in a bit better detail. It wasn't quite as boring, and helped pass the time. Mostly, though, he watched the pegasai fly around and manipulate the weather. He found it rather fascinating that they could simply move clouds around at will.

Of course, right around then is when Mr. Telepathy decided to come back.

“Hello there Kestral.” It announced. “Ready to learn of why you're needed?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “Just point me in the right direction.”

“Good. But I’ll talk to you about a couple things first.” The voice gave off that feeling of one having just entered a room filled with a suppressing silence.

“Can it wait?” Kestral let out. “I'd like to know what you've dragged me into.”

“I have good reasons. Primarily because I'm still checking for targets right now.”

Targets? Kestral thought, but before he could get a word in the voice continued.

“So the first thing is this. Since this world does not house advanced weaponry like guns, I am the only one that can supply these 'bullets' to you. Just bring me coin and I’ll give you ammunition.”

“Woah, wait.” Kestral cut in. “You're going to tell me to do a job for you and then tell me I need to pay you to do it?”

“Is every human really so worried about econom-... Okay, look. I need you to do this job but I also need to know you will pace yourself and truly consider planning ahead. Both of which I will eventually leave you to do by yourself. Now this leads into another point I need you to know.”

The voice was silent for a moment, giving Kestral enough time to ask his thoughts. “Okay, fine. I suppose that makes sense, but doesn't that seem counter intuitive? Wouldn't that just slow me down rather than help me help you?”

“What would be counter intuitive would be to let you have a large supply and go on a killing spree, letting both the local government and the vermin you hunt know that something is afoot. So no, not really. I need you to do this right, not fast.” Kestral inhaled to make another point but was cut off. “And as far as efficiency goes, I can also make modifications to whatever you have to make it better in some way. Which was my next point.”

Kestral was actually mildly excited to hear that. Better equipment? It's something he could really use if he could nab the cash to get it. “Sweet.” was his reply. Kestral remembered his own disbelief on the premise of magic, so he decided to ask for a little demonstration. He felt around in his pockets and pulled out a leather bag that jangled as he moved it. “I'm assuming these kind of coins are it, then?”

“Yes, those are the currency accepted.”

“Cool, what can you do for this amount?” He asked excitedly.

“Nothing much. Ammo is all I can think of. Improving your weapons will take significantly more than that. If you think of something I’ll tell you if it's enough.”

Kestral thought about it for a good moment. He looked at his hands. The gloves on them were rather worn and the gray cloth was ripped in several spots. “Can you give me new gloves?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.” Kestral watched in no small wonder as the cloth gloves seemed to transform into a completely different pair. As he felt his new set, he noticed that dark leather had replaced the cloth and fit snugly on his hands. Like the old set, they had the fingers cut off to give his fingertips freedom.

“Hell yeah.” He very much enjoyed his new set, but was curious as to how much the gloves cost him, so he shook around the leather bag, and wasn't too surprised to find only a few coins left.

“Fifty bits is what I took. Seemed fair at least.” The voice gave a fake cough as if to clear it's throat. “Now then. On to my last discussion. I've noticed something odd about you. In spite of coming from a world without magic, you actually seem to have some stuck to you. First, I need you to pull up your sleeves and look at your arms for me.”

Kestral had no idea what was going on, but it sounded like he was about to get a prostate exam in magical form. He rolled up his sleeves as instructed and observed his arms. To his surprise, there were marking on his arms. On each arm, three bands of six perfect circles each looped around. All three bands were placed together between the wrist and the midpoint of the forearm.

“Okay, now just what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“Well, for you, that's your magic.... When you got here this morning, did you notice anything? Pain, perhaps?”

He thought about that early morning and did recall an unpleasant sensation. “Yeah, actually. A little bit of burning on the arms. It left before I could stand up.”

“Hmm,” it gave pensively, “Interesting. I've also notice they seem to be...attuned...somewhat. So I ask that you read this book.”

“What book-”

Suddenly Kestral heard a sparrow's war-cry from just above him. As he turned upward he noticed too late that a hard leather book was making it's descent. Right into his face.

SLAM

“Ouch” Kestral said while picking up the book from the ground. “Huh, 'Ignition: Guide to Flame Magic'.” He held it close, turning it about to observe it. “Why should I read it?”

“I believe that you are able to do magic. It's just a theory, but if you are successful, you can put it into practice.”

“Really? So if I read a book I can do the magic, in theory?”

“Yes.”

“What if it's in that freaky Greek text like on the coins? I can't read that.”

“Oh don't worry. A long time ago a group of earth pony peasants sued to have a common written language be chosen for all official texts, but not applied to already molded coinage. Long story short, it was 'English' as you call it that was chosen among the three pony languages, so they are all readable.”

“Oh.”

Kestral took a long look at the book and decided to once again humor the voice in his head. He cracked open the book at the table of contents, and went to chapter one.

3: Would you like a cookie?

Kestral leaned casually against a nearby tree; Back straight against. He opened up the hard leather book and immediately immersed himself in the reading.

(abridged)

First it should be noted that the reader should have a previous understanding of what fire really is and it's process and function as a chemical reaction before he or she attempts understanding it as a reactant of magical manipulation.

As each of us know, fire is the most standard chemical reaction we use today in society. Carbon stored in biological or non-biological forms such as wood or coal respectively, react with oxygen whenever put under intense, even if minute, heat.

Such a thing is endlessly useful to anyone that can repeatedly afford the action, or find the materials around to make it happen.

But this isn't about how well one can do with two flint rocks and a pile of twigs. We shall delve into the magical manipulation and creation of simple combustion, which can prove more difficult than first thought.

First, one understands the equation of combustion. C + O2 → CO2

Any pure carbon substance is likely to use this equation,or variations thereof. Most substances actually use a form of hydrocarbons, but focusing on the carbon aspects is the only real necessity in traditional Flame magic. One should be careful in what chemicals are actually created, as some can be toxic and should be used carefully.

Magical manipulation of a fluid is simple in concept, but sometimes more difficult in practice. As one sends mana(1) through the fluid of choice, one can change the atoms of the substance en mass, so long as they are identifiable as the same.

An example of this is having a container of carbon monoxide, and carbon dioxide. Each made of carbon and oxygen, but in different ratios. Sending exactly one spell through the whole fluid would prove useful on breaking down or combining one, but not the other. (Advanced dual manipulation is in a further chapter for the more adept.)

Moving along. To change a fluid one must understand what is being changed. Assuming we know the equation, we simply must focus on it, and force through the energy required to perform.

As we force our mana through the particles, the compounds resonate with our magic, and break down into smaller compounds or atoms. For the sake of combustion, we must use CO2 as our fluid of choice. The air from ones breath is enough to use, or any air in a large city will do. A noticeable drop in temperature in the air is frequent and is a sign of successful conversion.(Conservation between magical and thermal energy is explained in later chapters.)

Once one does that, maintain control over the fluid. The gas is now the perfect fuel to start a fire. Use magic once more, and imagine the gas heating up. The magic will frustrate the carbon until a natural flame has been started. This entire process can be done in mere milliseconds by adept magicians.

Challenge for the novice: Attempt to continually do this process, and make a sustained flame.

(1) Mana: Raw magical energy. Though used in many scientific contexts, this word has yet to enter a dictionary and is still considered a slang term. Derived from a mythical plant that produced food of the same name.

Kestral closed the hard leather cover and rubbed his eyes, partly from slight frustration that he may have wasted a good thirty minutes at least of his life. “Alright,” he said, “so I read the book. Or at least the basics. What exactly do you want me to do with this information?”

“Hold out your hand, palm up.”

Kestral humored him with the action lazily. “Okay. And?”

The voice pondered for a second. “I want you to focus on creating that fire in the air, just above the center of your palm.”

Kestral rolled his eyes. “You don't honestly think I can do magic, do you? Even if I could wouldn't it need months of practice?”

The voice scoffed. “Just do this for me, I need to see what happens.”

He rolled in his fingers momentarily to pop them, and moved them back to their outstretched position. He thought about the fire for just a split second before a fireball as wide as his palm, and as bright as a lantern, emerged right where instructed.

“Huh, well look at that. I really didn't think I could do that.” He used his free hand to feel around the fire. For some reason, the temperature under the fire did not drop like the book said it should. But the fire was fueled nonetheless.

The semi-friendly voice was muted for a moment or so, before it bore upon Kestral curious words. “Now that...was definitely different. Simply wonderful.”

“Hmm? Care to elaborate?” Kestral held out his free hand in the same fashion his other was.

“Well to start,” he said, “you didn't even focus on how the fire was made, or how it functions. You simply thought 'fire' and poof, you have fire.”

He focused on moving the fire from one hand to the next. Slowly the flame progressed to it's goal. “I'm not sure I like the idea of you reading my mind.” he stated bluntly.

“I'll do it when needed, but no time else. Promise.”

“Fine. So what's so wonderful about me doing this?” Kestral focused on the flame between his hands, and tried to make it swirl around a bit.

“Like I said a moment ago, you simply thought fire and made fire. You didn't focus much, but that is what is odd. It seems that you don't need the extensive knowledge to use magic. What's daunting is that you seem to only need the basic principles known and you can perform the spell as good as an experienced user of the spell.”

“Wow,” he said, “didn't realize you needed that much to use magic.”

“That is not the only thing that is odd about this.” He continued. “Whenever a unicorn uses a spell, he or she has an aura. A colored light around the focus, whatever yours is, and the target. Yours is only around the fire, and is only a slight shimmer.”

Kestral followed his words carefully as he looked toward the fire. Sure enough, a very slight bend in the light was present, though he couldn't tell if it really was his magic, or just heat from the flames.

“I'm finding many odd things about this. I will have to theorize on it a bit. First though, I want you to lift up your sleeve. Left side.”

He decided not to question him this time and went to move his sleeve. As he did so he noticed one of the circles was very different. It was filled in. Huh. He thought. He observed the shape closely, which seemed to resemble that of a small flame with some of it whisking off toward his hand but stopping at the circles edge.

“As I suspected.” The voice chimed in.

Kestral waited for a moment, to see if the voice would elaborate on the previous words. When it did not, he pressed on. “and that is?”

“Oh, yes,” as if the voice had all but forgotten his audience, “I sensed the connection between the marks on your arm and your mind earlier. When you performed the magic, it put the spell you now know on your arm. What you are looking at,” he paused, “is an empty library of spells.”

Kestral took a few moments to take it all in, letting the implications sink in. “So wait. If I learn enough to use another spell, it'll just pop on here in a moments notice, just to remind me that I have it?”

The voice huffed in irritation. “I'm still not sure why it is there, but that seems to be the case nonetheless. Before you go off trying to learn a bunch of magic, know this; There are a great many more spells that exist than there are circles on your arms and chest.”

“So...i can only know so many at a time? What happens if I fill it up and learn another? Do I just forget the oldest one or something?”

“I'm not sure,” he said reluctantly, “It is something I’ll have to look into. I'll be able to tell you more after I observe it.” The voice let off a small groan. “Ugh, I’m getting a small headache from this telepathy spell.” The voice complained. “Listen, I need to cut off the spell for a while. You can steal or hunt your food, whatever you prefer. Just, whatever you do, make sure you don't get caught. We cannot have you be seen yet, it will make both of our lives significantly more difficult. I will be back when I can.”

Right before the soft hum disappeared, Kestral called out, “Wait.”

“Hmm?”

“Before you go, I need to ask. What's your name?”

Before the voice faded out, it bluntly told him his name, void of emotion. “Discord.” And as soon as it was said, the voice was gone completely.

I'll take care to remember that.

With silence now enveloping the immediate area, Kestral decided to check out the town that the forest was bordering. He steadily walked toward the edge that he had been stopped from crossing earlier. As he neared it, he decided he would not be needing the book in his hand, so solemnly placed it leaning up against a tree's base.

When he was done he observed the quaint town with curiosity. To him it certainly had a unique style to it. The wooden houses with angled hay roofs gave a poor medieval feel to him, but the fact that the roads and yards were tightly kept seemed to contradict the poverty idea. A few good landmarks could be seen in the distance, most simply being over sized wooded architecture. The roads themselves were just grassy areas that had been worn down due to frequent trafficking.

The ponies themselves seemed to fit right into the place. Several were piling their goods back to homes, to be sold another day, perhaps. The rough carts seemingly glided over the potholes and mounds that occasionally littered a spot in the path. Pegasai flew around, moving clouds around casually, as if it is completely normal. Children, or at least what he thought were children, were being called up by parents to eat their evening meals. The sun had set a while ago, and the moon was making its ascent up the sky. The entire town seemed to be so trusting.

In the thick scent of wild vegetation, one could make out the distant sweet nectar that was food in the air. The smell of it sent his taste buds off as his mouth watered for home-cooked meals long forgotten since his first days on the run. Though he wished to set off immediately and take some food as a fox, he heeded Discord's words carefully. So far, he had been right, and that was enough for Kestral to trust him on this one suggestion; Don't get caught.

He looked around the border of the town for a path with plenty of cover. The road itself had a few houses, but several had lights on, proving the owners were home. A few seemed to be empty, but the vacation of them was surely going to be short lived. Towards the left of the road, there were a few empty lots, with a couple half-finished houses on either side of them. Not a great place to get food, but perfect for staying over night should the need arise. Veering off to the right, a row of houses had their lights off, void of waking life.

From his immediate area, that direction was his best bet to getting in without notice. So onward he went with haste. He purposely ran parallel to the forest until his run to the middle vacant house was a perpendicular line, as to cut off as much time in the open as possible. When he figured it was a good time to go, he made a straight shot towards the house, staying low – which was not easy given he had a rifle inside his coat – and dodging a handful of holes in the ground. When he made it to the edge of the back yard, he easily vaulted over the wooden fence, which only came up to his waist.

Once inside, he bolted for the door, and stopped right next to it, back against the planks of oak, panting slightly from the sudden burst of exercise. He looked around and listened for anything suspicious. The lights around him were still off, no one was screaming 'intruder', and he heard no hoofsteps, so he assumed the coast was clear. He turned to the door and leaned a bit, given it was shorter than him, and tried the knob.

Damn. When the knob failed to move for him he realized that moving into the house would be more difficult than not being seen. He cursed his luck a bit. Small towns like this tended to be more trusting, and people would make it easy for him by not locking doors, or by keeping a window open.

Well... It was a bad stereotype to play off of, but looking under a welcome mat for a spare key has proven to be useful before, so he decided that it was worth a try. He moved swiftly around the corner of the home, and immediately turned back, in fear of having been seen. What he saw was a tan colored 'pony' picking up mail from his mailbox. He couldn't see many details, but he saw enough to know that the owner had come home and was about to enter the house.

He moved right at the corner and peaked his head around to see what became of the pony. His eyes saw no trace, but his ears had made out the sound of a door slamming in the vicinity. With his secrecy confirmed, he made swift movement towards the front. Two windows were passed on his way forward, one in the middle on the first floor, and the second just above it. As the end of the house came up on his right he could hear the bottom window open up with conviction, which sent him in no great panic, but did fluster him enough to strike the corner with his metal tipped foot.

Upon looking back from the corner, he saw the window wide open, with the sound of pumping water resounding from it. Well at least I know where he is. He thought. With vigor he went to the front door and looked beneath himself. There was indeed a welcome mat, with a coat of arms upon it depicting a hoof stepping on a snake and the snake biting the leg above the hoof, so he flipped it over halfway and...

Nothing...shoulda guessed. He looked around the front door, but nothing else was able to hide a key. Since nothing else came to mind, he pondered at the door for a moment. He did just get here, what if I just... He reached out for the knob and, to his relief, it turned all the way. But instead of going inside, he quickly closed the door and backed up. He jogged around the house, back to the window, and crouched under it. Slowly, he inched his head up until he could make a good view of what it was.

It was a real homey bathroom. Mahogany cabinets set on the far wall next to a full sized mirror that stretched to the ground. A rug lied on the ground, covering the tiles floor from the tub that sat under the window, to the mirror on the other side. A walk-in closet sat on the left side, towards the front door, while on the right, a door that seemed to lead into a bedroom was present. Candles spotted the floor near the corners, keeping the room lit. Kestral observed the bath tub under him. Next to it was a bottle of wine, a full glass, and a book labeled “The Nightlight Sega”. More importantly, inside the bathtub was the stallion Kestral had seen earlier. Luckily for Kestral, his eyes were closed.

He was able to identify it as a stallion because he chose to lay on his back, and the water still had a ways to rise.

He shook his head. Can't blame him. Must feel nice. When he did what scoping out he could, he decided to move up to the front door again. He chose to enter now instead of breaking in another time, because it looked like the stallion will be tied up for a while. He would simply need to be quiet. He rubbed any dirt off at the welcome mat, to make sure his boots wouldn't squeak on any hard floors inside, and slowly pushed the door open. He had to duck to get in, but the ceiling was high enough for him to stand tall, even if barely.

The inside was not very well lit. Only a gas lantern at the front and back doors provided light, and they were not very bright, even in the darkness of the night. He decided that this would be a good time to test his new spell in the field. He snapped his left hand, and just above his finger appeared a small flame, the same size a lighter would produce. He realized that the gesture had nothing to do with how the spell worked, but he felt compelled to do it nonetheless.

With a new light source, he moved around to get a feel for the setup. A formal dining room was immediately to the left, with expensive looking oaken furniture scattered about. Directly to his right a door with unknown contents was present on the wall facing him. On the far side, near the back door was random furniture towards the left, and another open door to the right, with a soft sound of water coming from it.

Further along the left wall was what he was looking for; The kitchen. The stove was at the wall, next to the related cookware, while the sink and cleaning supplies were on a wall that was stuck between the two walls that were seemingly the same room before the divide. In the middle of the kitchen was a counter top that was connected to a rather large cabinet that went to the ceiling.

Freaking JACKPOT! Kestral moved excitedly into the kitchen, but tried not to clank his boots on the tile floor, which was an oddity against the rest of the floor's carpet. He thrust open the cabinet to find good amounts of food sitting within.

Let's see...bread,muffins, half-eaten box of cupcakes, pastries, corn, beets, turnips...bundles of wheat? Whatever. Garlic, onions, carrots, veggie, veggie, veggie. He grabbed a whole carrot and started snacking on it quietly. Oh, fresh apples, don't mind if I do! He opened his satchel up and placed two shiny, red apples into the clean side. Let's see. What else? Oranges, bananas, a pineapple, an empty coconut with shavings in the middle, tortilla chips, but no avocado to make some guacamole? Pshh. Whatever. A pota- POTATO! YES!

He snatched it up greedily, placing the spud in his satchel, and continued. Stuff, things, chemicals, sugar, chocolate chips, and...a brown paper bag. He went to open the sack to discover that it was entirely filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. Holy yes, that is mine now! He shoved it on top of the potatoes and apples, filling up much of the room in his bag. With just a little room left, and not much else interesting in the cabinet, he took some carrots and fitted them in aside the cookies and his mass supply of Slim Jims.

With food supply taken care of, he decided to take a moment to check out any drinks there may be. He shifted his feet around, checking each of the other cabinets that were around the kitchen. It wasn't until he reached the last one that he found a large number of bottles with labels detailing the amount of alcohol. Wine was mostly what he found there, the only other kind being a strong vodka. Since Kestral never was a heavy drinker, he decided to take a random wine bottle, unopened. He held it in his hand since his bag was full, and he didn't want to get caught with his backpack off.

With necessities taken care of, he decided to look around for a key he can use to get back in at a later time. He strolled over towards the front door, and looked around for anything useful. Several hooks were present on the wall under the dimly lit lantern, but were void of anything but a dark chocolate fedora that had gathered a good amount of dust. Guess my good luck streak ends a bit short. Since the pony was going to nowhere in all likeliness, he decided he had a bit of a chance to look around more for that key.

He walked with silence to the back door, and extinguished the flame floating in front of him, just in case the pony could see the light it gave off. He passed a couch and some rather wide chairs that were pointed at a brick fireplace. When he got to the back wall, he got up next to the door of what he thought would be a bedroom. He was able to confirm it was a bedroom when he peaked his head around the corner. A simple bed with covers were an oddity out of the more elaborated decorations of the jewels and swords that dotted the walls.

Whether or not any were real or used was a matter for another day. The door to the bathroom was open ajar, but not enough for one to see through it unless one was to be right next to it. A single nightstand was next to the bed, and a display case with more trinkets was on the other side. He moved into the room, and next to the nightstand. Right there was the key, on the top next to a candle. He grabbed it with thankfulness that is was so easy to find, and moved away, towards the back door.

He quickly, and steadily, unlocked the door and moved out the house, closing it, but not locking it solely out of apathy. He took a single step forward, towards the forest, when another painfully loud opening of a homes passage startled him more than he would ever admit. The sound had come from the left so he immediately burst to the right and around the corner, attaching himself to the edge of the same wall he had spied the bathing pony from. He peaked his head around and took in the scene.

A pink unicorn with a more red mane had burst through the door and started smoking a cigarette with conviction, puffing out a large plume of smoke every once in a while. On her flank was some sort of mark, but Kestral couldn't tell what it was. The pony seemed to be trying to inhale the cancer-stick as much as possible with every breath. Either from addiction or stress, Kestral couldn't tell, but there was apparently great need of that smoke.

He knew he couldn't wait where he was for very long. He had to find another way towards his preserve in the forest. He looked toward the front of the house and started moving in that direction. As he moved past the window, he could hear the stallion moan slightly. “Ooohhh midnight, you sexy cougar.” This made him double-time it away from the window and toward the street. As he hit the edge of the house, he made sure to sweep the street with his eyes.

Aside from two ponies, who's armor glistened silver in the moonlight, walking directly down the middle of the street toward his direction, no one else was visibly present. He watched the two officials with interest. One of them had a pair of leathery wings, while the other was blank of such features. Both had shiny silver armor that gave them an air of importance, and a blank look on each one's face gave an air of absolute boredom.

With both walking towards Kestral's direction of the street, and the pony next door probably still smoking, he laid himself at the ground, right at the corner's edge, and pressed his body against the wood. After that, he threw his hood over, giving him an all black look from their angle. Though he looked incredibly stupid at the time, it is a trick he learned to do when he needed to hide in plain sight. The trick, in an environment that one is not able to hide in more conventional areas, is to make one's self seem as small and unrecognizable as possible. Typically, it helps significantly to have a piece of foliage in front of one's self, but Kestral did not have such a thing on him. At the distance he was at, they would probably have thought him an odd rock or piece of lumber.

Given the fact that their eyes seemed to be angled out to the side, rather than forward, he could tell their peripheral vision would sweep across him at some point. His only hope right then was that his plan would work.

The winged one decided to break the silence, as was his ritual. “Hey.”

The wingless one refocused on his friend, instead of the fact that he can swear he felt spinach in his teeth. “Yeah?”

The winged one gave a moment of pause, in order to properly asses how he would say the next, extremely important words that he had given much thought over the past hour. “Have you ever wondered why we're he-”

“Shut it.” The earth pony cut him off. “You ask me that question every damn night. Ask me something else for once.”

The bat-pony decided to take another moment, and asked an entirely new question. “Have you ever felt like you were being watched?”

The pony did not reply immediately. “...what do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, “that throughout these dark roads and dimly lit streets, with only street lanterns and the moonlight to guide us, someone could be stalking us at any time and we wouldn't know it.”

“Biggest load of crap I’ve heard. We're the Nightguard! If anyone can navigate in darkness without being seen, it's us and no pony else.” The Earth pony retorted.

“Okay, look,” The winged one stopped and pointed at a black object, on the corner of a house, just inside the shadow of the house opposite the gap. “if that were an assassin, we wouldn't even know, because it blends in with shadows.”

“That's dog shit. It isn't an assassin, it's just a...a uh, rock or something.” After denying it, he added, “If you want to prove it's an assassin, go up and bring me back his body.”

The bat-wing replied, “Uhm, no, I’d rather not face the legal consequences of having stepped in an enclosed property without justification.”

The other just starting walking off again. “Chicken.”

“Am not!” He followed heartily.

“Oh that's right, you don't have feathers... You're just a little baby bat-ling.”

Kestral watched silently as the two walked off in a very argumentative manner. With his freedom assured for the moment, he got back up onto his feet, and wiped off his front side of excess dirt. Bottle in hand, he went back towards the back again, just to check if the smoker had left yet. To his surprise, he or she had gone back in just as he peaked his head around, leaving him in peace at the corner of the house...

Which he immediately used to his advantage. After looking around the houses for a minute or so, he opted to go, because he didn't see anything else possibly happening to increase his chance of not being seen on the open plain between where he was standing and where he needed to be.

He jogged over to the fence, and jumped high enough to land a foot on the top, then jumped again off that, but at a more forward angle. After landing, he took off faster than he did before, but he did so without crouching any, making him a tall target for spotters, though he then realized it wouldn't matter much in the open like this. When he finally reached the forest edge he looked back at the house he came from, and took due note of it's surrounding area, so he'd remember it later.

While walking a bit deeper into the forest at a slow pace – deep enough to not be seen from the town – he looked at the bottle of wine in his hand, reading the name “Amontillado” on the front. With a relaxed smile on his face, he popped the cork and held it in his hand as he dug through his satchel to find one of the apples.

With alcohol in one hand, and fruit in the other, he extended his arms and leaned on a tree. “And this, is a brave, new world.”

…

Damn I miss listening to Thirty Seconds to Mars.

“Alright. Fine.” The bat-pony said. “I'll go check it out. Just shut up.”

Right before he left, he heard his earth pony friend call out the words, “don't die of the pirates on the way there!”

His leathery wings unfurled and he launched off the ground, sailing low through the air back towards the house with the unknown object. It was short, only a few houses back from his friend. He landed just inside of the house's fencing. He went closer to the corner of the house, only to realize that it was no longer there.

“What? Where is it?”

If he had been focusing in the direction of the Everfree forest, he would have been able to spot a tall figure making it's escape at the edge of the foliage. But unfortunately for him, he did no such thing. With nothing to do, he made a hasty retreat towards his comrade, who was waiting patiently for him.

“And it's...?” He asked with a contented smile on his face

“...gone.”

The smile faded. “Gone?”

“Yup. No longer there.”

“...”

“This does not count as evidence that it was an assassin.”

“Fine by me, mate.”

4: Following the chitin-plated Rabbit

In the darkness under the canopy of wild vegetation, one could have made out the broken moonlight the descended upon the earth, so ripe with life and rich in activity at all times. With the uninterrupted sounds and calls of the animals, only one in the vicinity was not awake and ready to either eat, play, or mate.

That is, until, he got a rude awakening from his new best friend.

“WAKE UP.”

“HOLY SWISS FUCK.” Kestral shot up from the sitting position against the tree, apple cores falling off his chest, and two-thirds empty bottle still in hand.

“Good, you're awake. I was wondering how loud it'd need to be.” Chimed in a giggly voice.

“Ugh...what time is it? Never mind I’m late anyway.” He answered his own question in his stupor.

“It's about two-thirty in the morning.” Discord said in a moderately more serious manner. “Had to sleep off some of the good stuff did we?”

“T- two-thirty? Jesus that's early. And I assume you have a good reason for such timing?” His focus was quickly regaining from the disturbed rest, and he touch-checked all of his equipment to confirm it's presence.

“I do.” Discord took a deep breath as he prepared for the small headache he was about to endure. “It's to show you what you'll be doing for the next few months.”

If Kestral had any part of his mind not paying attention, he didn't anymore. His spine stiffened a tad as he took in the words. He began moving around, popping his joints, and stretching his muscles in anticipation of the next few words.

“But first,” Discord set in, killing Kestral's building anxiety, “I have a gift I know you'll love.”

Before he could respond to such a vague statement, Kestral flinched at a sudden pop right in front of him. He threw out his arms and tossed it around several times before he could manage to grasp it correctly. What was in front of him surprised him a bit. It was a folded up piece of cloth, light brown and about the size of his palm.

After flicking on a flame to get a better view, he examined it closely. On it, was a simple circle. In the center, a fragment of the circle was filled in with ink, going to the edge, and covering somewhere between ten and fifteen degrees of the circle. The pointer was pointing somewhere off into the town that he could only barely see through the thicket of trees.

“It's a compass...i think. It doesn't have any cardinal directions on it.” He stated curiously.

“You're right, but I think that was just a good guess. And it uses ordinal directions only.”

Kestral moved it around a bit. Not matter how he turned it, the ink would keep up and move around, forcing it to always point toward the town.

“Now open it up.” Discord said, with a giggly undertone.

Kestral complied, though more out of curiosity than anything. He unfolded the piece of cloth until it was a thin layer with the length and width of a square foot. Much more ink was present. At the top center was a term he was unfamiliar with, “Ponyville”. The lettering reminded him of an old-English technique that looked visually similar to cursive, but each letter was broken and lacked the connection to each adjacent character.

The map itself was pretty simple. A large number of boxes and circles were present, organized into lines, columns and odd shapes that seemed to be solely defined by the larger gaps between groups, presumably being roads. A star shape sat at the top edge, a small distance away from nearby houses. A bit further down, one of the smaller blocks was grayed out some.

“Hey, why's this one darker? That the one I was at?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Mhm. Go ahead and touch it.” He tried to make is sound like an innuendo, but the verbal irony was lost on Kestral.

He tapped it and, to his moderate surprise, it popped up a list of information on it. Information he already knew, but nothing else. A bullet list on one side showed the few things he stole, and another on the opposite, showing things he spotted that were of interest. Below, in the middle, shows info like the fact he has a key for the place. He swiped away at the box and it disappeared , seemingly reading his intent.

“I got the idea from those G-P-S things you humans have. Though, It doesn't show anything you don't already know. Just keeps it for a reminder.”

Suddenly, a few of the squares were changed to include a black 'X' in the middle, making them pop out easily.

“These are some of the tainted homes I’ve found. There may be more later, but we'll burn that bridge when we get there. For now, make your way to one and get inside, I’ll explain once you see it for yourself.”

Before he could ask another question, Kestral had realized Discord was gone, and he was alone for the trip there. With not much else to do, he began making his way towards the road, flame still in front of him, and map still in hand. Every few moments he would look at the star at the top and, as he expected, it moved as he did.

Kestral, ever so caring, took note of where the nearest X was on the map. Just a few blocks into the town, no big deal. He folded up the map again into the square cloth with a circle on it, and noted that it was pointing in the same direction the house is. He wadded folded it again and crammed it in one of his chest pockets.

Hitting the road finally, he looked around and took note as he did earlier that night. The same houses were present, but all the lights were off, save for one far off to the left, for unknown reasons. Kestral started walking down the side of the dirt road and flicked off his flame. The moon was bright enough in the clear night sky to see where one was going, so the flame would make him only easier to spot should more guards cross his path.

As he was nearing one of the first houses, Kestral decided that he didn't want to haul a bottle around in his hand as he was. He opened up his satchel and was about to place it in the larger pocket, only to stop himself. He observed the bottle, and it occurred to him that the cork wasn't on. He had never put it back on after he popped it open the previous night. Kestral didn't know many properties of alcohol aside from toxicity and flammability, but he thought it was an educated guess to say to wouldn't be very good after setting in open air for several hours.

So, as he walked by a house, he casually placed it on a window sill, leaving it for whoever wished to deal with it's existence.

Before he passed the house, he checked around the corner of the entire street, to ensure it was clear before he ventured forward. As it was, there were no signs of life, so he moved his body no quicker than a walk. It was not that he was tired, or apathetic to the situation. It was that he did not want to spend energy then just to tire out when he might have needed it.

Two houses were passed again, and as before, no signs of life in the street. The process of walking around so early is not one he was unfamiliar with, but it was something he neglected to do often. It was not something he wanted to make a habit of, but soon, he felt, he would need to use it much more often, given he had to keep out of sight completely instead of just blending in with the crowd like he was used to.

Another two houses. This time, however, Kestral spotted a pair of silvery guards walking away on the road to his left. He waited a moment to ensure they were gone. He pulled out his 'compass' and began walking again, watching the ink carefully. As he neared the next set of houses, it made small movements toward the right. Right as he passed the second house, it shifted, focusing straight at it.

Just to ensure it is indeed the right house, he unfolded the cloth and observed the star, which was right on top of a crossed out house. He lapped up the material and placed it back in his chest pocket.

He scrutinized the house. It looked similar to the house he had last entered, but it seemed more worn on the outside. A sideways glance wouldn't tell the difference, but close examination showed the paint pealing slightly, and the wear on the wood and windows present. Nothing damaged, just slight wear on the overall look of it.

On the side was two windows, both near the ends, both sporting flowers on the sills. As he moved forward, he could see two more windows on the front of the house, along with one in the middle of the door, though hazy, and only meant to let generic lighting in. The yellow painting on the house let off a calm look in the moonlight.

Kestral checked around the front door for any whereabouts of a key. Again, no such luck was present. He twisted the knob, only for it to stop immediately after. With no obvious entry into the front door, he moved around the windows, checking to see if any happened to be open. He checked the side he came up on earlier when the fronts failed to be useful, and to the back when that one did as well. When he got to the back, he saw something he was glad to see. A window was cracked open, and as far as Kestral could tell, the lock was unlatched as well.

He slid his fingers under the bottom, got down a bit, and pulled. Unfortunately, it did not budge. He tried again, harder. It still did not move an inch. He pulled out his fingers and cursed his luck. Whatever was holding it down, he could not tell, but it was formidable. With a crowbar he probably would have been able to pry it open, but he had no such device on his body.

He moved around to the other window, just for it to be locked as well. He tried opening the back door, at this point just for kicks, with similar result. He moved around the side and tried the last window on the bottom floor. It, too, failed to comply. Well crap. Now how do I get in? He looked up and saw another window above him. He would have simply passed on it and tried to find a crowbar, but he noticed something different. The window was halfway open, and something was sticking out of it.

Sweet. Kestral grinned at another stroke of luck. He looked at the lower window, and removed the plants that were set upon the edge. He placed one foot on it and prepared himself. He believed he could make the jump, given how small these houses seemed to be. He forced his lower leg to spring up, then made the other burst out as well, sending him up enough to barely grab hold of the edge. He scraped the wall with his feet until he got a grip, then using both arms and legs he traversed the upward distance in a slow manner.

When he got leveled to the window, he did his best to hold his self up while he pushed up the bottom half of his self. When he finished, he leaned in a bit to get a good look at what was in front of him. A telescope from the looks of it. Luckily for him, as he pushed it to the side it spun without restriction. With that out of his way, he pressed forward through the window, and pulled himself through.

THUMP

Of course, it would have been better for him to have been more quiet about it. He lied still on the ground, waiting a moment to get up. The second rule of sneaking is that if one makes a loud, sudden noise, one must ensure one does not repeat it. The first time, it is often shrugged off, unless followed up by another.

Slowly, he ascended to his feet and observed his surroundings. Several pictures of stars were scattered on the wall, along with pinned up dates next to small rocks. Next to the window were two bookshelves filled with astrology related material. A small stack of paper lay next to a desk on the side wall. The moonlight was bright enough that he didn't really need to light a fire, so he smothered his light. He walked to the opposite side, where a rail and hard wood stairs were located, and began a descent.

“More than likely, the target is in the basement. Don't tarry.” Discord kicked in. His command was short and seemingly urged Kestral to accelerate his actions so he may be over with this house already.

With a more specific location to go, he only stayed long enough to know where exactly it was. As he got down, he took in the house, piece by piece. Immediately to his front was the kitchen, smaller than the last house, and looking to be solely practical. A wall was to his left, and to his right was a living room, furnace being on the far wall. He took a step forward and looked to the back of the house. A hallway sticks out the corner of the living room, presumably toward a set of bedrooms.

To his right he spotted, as he walked out from the steps, was a door that he could not identify immediately, located right under the staircase. He turned the handle and opened it, letting off a small creak that Kestral had wished was not present. Inside, the shadows ate away at the dim light, so he flicked on a flame in front of him, revealing another descending passage.

He put one foot in front of the other and went down the steps carefully. He tread silently, ensuring his boots did not clack against the wood. As he hit the floor of the basement, he swatted away the small chunks of dust that invaded his space, along with the slight aroma of alcohol. He took note of the large barrel that was placed on the opposite wall, dripping every few moments into a puddle no larger than six inches in diameter

What Kestral saw next crept him out enough for his spine shiver much longer than comfortable. What he saw, as he walked up to it, was two large, green, flesh-looking masses. Each one had a thick and durable looking, black base stretching from the ground that was against the wall, up the wall itself and ending just after hitting the ceiling. It looked as if spider webs as thick and strong as muscle was used to stick the softer inside in one place.

“And this,” Discord said sickeningly, “ is what we call a changeling.”

Kestral walked up to one of the pods. With the light he could easily see the contents of the green goop enveloped in a thin membrane. A quadruped creature with black plating surrounding it's exterior floated gently inside, eyes closed. Translucent wings fluttered by it's side every so often, as if it were reacting in a dream-scape to open skies and high altitudes. Barely, Kestral could see curves and gaps within the appendages of the creature, serving no obvious purpose other than either making it weigh less, or as some kind of genetic ward against having strong legs.

“An interesting species, is it not?”

He looked around what he could, but could not get a better look at the horse-bug hybrid in front of himself. “Sure is.” He replied in a slow, distracted tone.

“Now that you see this situation in front of you, I shall explain in necessary detail.” Discord said, progressively getting more monotonous in voice, almost as if he had explained this all before. Kestral stepped over to the other pod, and took in the details there, letting the silence continue.

“These pods here serve two purposes.” He paused. “To allow a changeling to rest, while connecting to it's hive mind for communicated slumber, is the first. It also can house the body of another creature, which it will render unconscious and susceptible to biological and mental attacks.”

He observed the pony held within the organic sludge. At the awkward upward angle the pony was facing, he was able to decide it was a 'she' very quickly. The coat seemed to be a lime green color, but Kestral could not tell if that was the real case or simply an effect of the fluid she was swimming in. Aside from those, the only other detail he can make out is that she is a pegasus.

“What you see in front of you is an example of both. Unfortunately, there is a minor detail that changes everything.”

Kestral curiously focused on the tiny squiggles that were floating around in the fluid, as if with purpose. “And that is...?”

Discord decided to take a less direct approach, though one that will help Kestral learn a bit about what he was dealing with. “Look between the two pods and tell me what you see.”

He moved in front of the suggested location and observed a large, cable-like piece of chitin connecting each pod at about neck height for each creature before him. The mass of flesh was stuck against the wall, so he moved close to observe it. “Uh, I think I found giant umbilical cord.” Kestral halfheartedly joked.

“That is a more accurate statement than you realize.” He replied, in all seriousness.

He made a slightly disturbed expression at the idea before he became curious enough to override it. “Wait, so the bug is eating her?”

“That is simply a byproduct of this distinct process.” Said Discord. “What he is attempting right now is an efficient form of mimicking. The changeling steals a sliver of the pony's life in exchange for being able to move around as a look alike without being detected by traditional magic.”

Kestral sat on that information for a moment, and decided he can come back to the actual task in a moment, and chose to veer off the conversation so he could learn more. “So, since you said this is different, I’m assuming this isn't their usual behavior?”

“That is correct. This is only a process that they use when they either absolutely cannot be found out, or no longer care about killing their food.”

“How does the disguise work, though. If they can be found before, what makes this different?”

“Well,” Discord began, “normally it works by a changeling simply using it's magic to put on a pony's coat as his own. This way was very easy to uncover the insects. The way you see in front of you,” he paused, “is more efficient. It infuses very small amounts of DNA into the changeling, causing scan spells to simply not see them as changelings. Not only that, but they sever off their telepathic link while in deep cover like this to ensure more focus and less being caught.”

“And after so many nights of doing that, the pony dies.” Kestral finished.

“Precisely. This is what I want you to prevent.” He replied.

“Okay,” he began, “I understand what you need of me. But if you can talk to me, why can't you warn the ponies instead of bringing me here?”

“Simple. I have warned her majesty Celestia about this, but she refuses to believe me on the context that she has just defeated the changelings.” He paused. “Another reason is that you can take care of them without being noticed, so you can keep suspicion from rising that one person is linking each of the 'incidents'.” At least for a while. He thought.

Kestral thought carefully on this information, feigning his current study of the large fleshy cord that was strung between the two, and instead, his mind was on a more difficult matter. “So, do you want them caught or killed?” He asked, trying not to stall any longer.

“Killed. If they are 'caught' after having seen you, they can spread around they idea that you are present, and even just escape afterward. It will make your life much easier just to kill them.”

“Alright, I see your point.”

Kestral backed up a couple steps, looking away from the connection and observed the pod to his left, where the over-sized insect was laying. As he looked at it he immediately saw a problem. The membrane that held the changeling was ripped and some of the odd goop was pulled out of the chamber. As he quickly looked to the end of the gelatin trail, he found the source of the problem. A changeling was standing right behind him, fangs bared, and looking pretty pissed at his intruder.

“Well shit.”

The changeling wordlessly sprung at him, maw open, fully intending to rip his throat out.

Kestral sidestepped it and ducked a little, causing the bug to miss completely, and end up hitting the lower front of the pony's pod. He turned and jumped towards the head of the insect, wanting to squash it with his steel-toe boots, but missed as the bug rolled out of the way just in time.

The insect flared up its horn with green light, hoping to make this a one-touch knockout. It flared it's wings and crouched for extra power. The bug made another jump at him, but he was ready. As it flew, Kestral threw his hands around and propelled the bug behind him, smashing it's face into the wall. Before he could give it a chance to make a comeback, he grabbed it's horn and his knife at the same time. He pulled it's head back and plunged the blade into the large blue eye staring at him.

The moment he did this, the changeling froze up, before slowly going limp without even a grunt in pain.

He let the body drop without protest. “Well then. I guess that means one house is out of the way.” Kestral took a step over the changeling corpse and looked at the pony's prison.

“It would be best to get her out. She won't wake up on her own as long as she's in there.” Discord said.

With a swing of the blade, Kestral sliced open the pod, spilling green goop all over the floor in front of him. He sheathed the knife and grabbed hold of the pony, pulling her out of the mess. He held her like one would a large dog while carrying her upstairs. Upon exiting the doorway he hurried over to the couch and laid her down on her back. Her breathing became more regulated as time went on, and he lost any care about her presence, given she was in no immediate danger.

“Now you know what to do. Can I trust you to help as many ponies as possible?” Discord asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes. You can.” Kestral replied, now knowing what the coming weeks will consume his time with.

“Good. I shall keep adding to the targets as often as I can. If you need me, just tap on the compass a few times. Good luck.” And with that, Discord's voice left.

Silent once again became the superior sound, aside from the mild snoring coming from the pegasus below Kestral. He wouldn't admit it, but there was a certain giddiness he felt from going from a wanted criminal that was framed to a hunted dark-hero. He felt as if he should really practice his batman voice.

He refocused, and remembered that he still has a couple of targets that he could get before dawn-break. Of course, he had a good amount of time to do it, but he also wanted to find any good food and cash. Immediately he turned around and looked longingly at the kitchen. He walked off into it and began looking through the pantry, hoping to find another good stash of foods. His faithful flame lit up even brighter than before.

As he was looking through, he noticed that some of the fruits had gone bad, indicating that the changeling was there for a while, but not too long as there were some foods still unexpired. Another cabinet held boxes of donuts and cookies, so it may have gotten a sweet tooth while it was here. Not much was present that was useful so Kestral simply grabbed what small sweets there were and put them in his bag. Perhaps the next house would have more to choose from.

He closed his bag again and moved around to find the bedroom. It was across the living room, so he moved around and headed straight towards it. Upon entering, he found a rather humble room; One with unpainted lumber for walls, tall candles on a nightstand next to a bed, and an open wardrobe with clothing strewn about. He went for the nightstand and checking the top drawer. A sack of gold was there, along with a half-written letter. He grabbed the sack and placed it in another of his many pockets.

The lower drawer held nothing of interest, so Kestral got out of the room and looked passively over the rest of the house. Not much would be useful, if taken, so the rest of the house was left untouched. He walked up the stairs and passed through the stargazing room. He hopped up onto the edge, then jumped down to the ground, only giving him a mild shock in his legs.

With more resolve than before, he pulled out the map in his pocket and picked the next house. It was a bit away, so he needed to work quickly.

Kestral placed the map back and took his first steps into his new purpose.

5: Change(l)ing the Situation

One Week Prior...

Princess Celestia is a rather patient mare. She understands, quite clearly, that accidents happen, and that sometimes guard duty could be a lot more fun if not for the responsibility of actually guarding something, rather than playing battle shots and darts at the same time.

...and I should ask that you not talk about how you think I use bleach to whiten my coat, while on duty. Further tomfoolery that results in bodily harm to your coworkers will also result in a demotion.

Yours Truly,

Princess Celestia

Celestia placed the quill down, and placed the paper aside to let it dry. She looked up at the surprisingly short stack of papers in her inbox. Though she got through much already, it was only noon, and it made her wonder just how many were backed up from mailing problems and were ready to consume her the next day.

She decided that she would take a well earned break. After ascending from her seat placed in front of her desk, she walked away, past her bed and onto the balcony. She unfurled her wings in the calm wind and glaring midday sunlight, basking in the warmth as it melted away her mild cabin fever. With a graceful hop, she burst up and glided down near the gardens.

She landed with the grace of a butterfly onto the grass's edge, and began her slow walk that she enjoyed every so often. To her, it was a release. Stress of running a country can truly get to a mare, and this was how Celestia kept herself from going insane. All the tax reforms, judge duty, and emotional ponies -or lack thereof- could not touch her in the gardens. It was simply herself and the animals that were kept there, in the warm vegetation that always smelled of roses and lavender.

She continued walking along the path, passing by a great number of modeled statues, knowing she'll find her old friend soon enough.

Since his second defeat, Discord had somehow been able to still speak telepathically from his stone imprisonment. It had initially worried Celestia greatly, but when days turned to weeks and months, and he still did not escape, her worry began slipping by. She could talk to him like she used to, in the olden days, though he did not converse unless she actually walked up to his statue form.

It was all enjoyable and nostalgic to say the least. But then, nearly two weeks prior, he began going silent. She would try to talk and he would simply state things such as “I'm watching, quiet” or “Not now, Celestia” or even “Remove your oversized carcass, It's distracting me”. She liked her form, thank you very much! To say the least, he was not acting like the jovial, fun-loving Discord that he usually was.

It became worse when he began claiming that changelings were returning to attack. He had told her that several families were replaced entirely by them. It took him an hour of talking to convince her to check. Each of the families were asked to do a magical checking. Each one, in turn, had agreed and passed without failure or hindrance. Discord insisted that they developed a new spell that was undetectable by normal means, but Celestia was insistent on that he needed proof of such a thing.

She would not tear apart the rights and liberties of her little ponies just for a defeated mad-pony that may very well be setting her up for 'fun'.

After that, he would insist on searches, memory probing and other forms of legal and less-than-so means of finding proof. That day would probably be no different, but it still made for more entertainment than writing letters all day explaining why guards are in fact able to confiscate alcohol from ponies too inebriated to pronounce 'Hi' correctly. And, letters to guards explaining to return said beverage to the pony once he or she is sober, instead of drinking it themselves.

But she would not dwell on that too harshly. Fun is fun, after all.

She walked up to the most familiar statue she knows, and smiled on it, even though it seems to be stuck in a look of fear. “Hello Discord. Are you doing well today?” Celestia asked calmly.

“Hard to tell, it seems I'm rather stoned, Celestia.” He responded. Wow she thought, first real answer to that question in over a week.

“Well that's good. I thought you were going to babble on about the changelings again.”

Discord huffed. “I've nearly given up on convincing you, so I'll give it one more shot. Celestia, if you really want to save your precious little ponies~”

“Oh no.” She cut him off. “I'm not acting on a word unless you have ~”

“hard evidence. I get it, but kinda hard to do while I'm imprisoned.”

Celestia sighed. By then it would be the third time the two went down that exact argument. Proof of dastardly deeds could not be found until searched for, and they could not be searched for until found. It was a terrible shame, but she would much rather hold up rights than risk undue punishment on third parties in such a situation.

Another sigh was let out, but this time it was discord. “You know, there was a Celestia I once knew that would seek out and punish the few in order to save the many. Whatever happened to that Celestia?”

In her defense, Celestia was older and wiser than she was when she first combated Discord. “I'm still here, only I’m not sure there is an enemy to punish. I do not believe the changelings would attack so short after a colossal failure.”

“It would seem unlikely, true. It would be such a shame if we, for some reason, were unable to hold changeling battle strategies and tactics to pony standards. Awful things would happen if they didn't do everything we would do if put in their place.”

Celestia shook her head. “I know what you're pointing out, and that's why we have standard changeling scans in all the government buildings and centers.”

Discord rolled his metaphorical eyes. He had already explained everything, but still, she did not act! He knew he wouldn't convinced her now, so he just wanted her to know this little detail before he stopped pestering her over the matter. Guess I’ll just get some pawns to do my work. “Very well. If you really cannot believe my words, then I suppose you'll just have to prove me wrong after I ESCAPE!” The last three words progressed into a speedy proclamation of freedom.

Celestia heard those words and the breaking of concrete in her ears. She dropped her head, aimed her horn, and charged an offensive spell. Her wings flared out as a sign of aggression to anything that was less than benevolent. Her spell finished charging and flared out her horn into a wispy concentration of pain, ready to defeat evil in an instant.

To her surprise, nothing more than a snicker came after that show of power. Then full laughter. “Hahaha. Really, Celestia. I thought you knew me better than that.”

Celestia simmered down her spell until it vanished, then put her body back into a proper stance. After a mild twitch of annoyance, she couldn't help but crack a smile. An entertained 'hmm' escaped her lips. Her smile, though sincere, was not at the joke at her expense. It was at the idea that she once again got her friend back.

Prince Parody was pretty pissed at the reports presented before him. Being a changeling, it would usually mean that he could sit there and listen to these things as they were being thought. The changelings in question, however, were deep undercover, and could not be chancing things such as their usual telepathic links, even in their sleeping pods. Lack or latency of communication was the bane of a changeling.

Plus, Parody hated the smell of ink on paper. It reminded him of ponies, which he only tolerated because they were his source of food.

The 'Day One' report sat there in front of him, taunting him of all the failures that had occurred in less than a few hours of the simultaneous replacement of dozens of ponies, plus an additional pony for each overseeing lieutenant.

Parody slicked back his green strip of hair that ran parallel to the spiny web -which was tinted a dark red- on the back of his neck. With a headache already forming, he opened the file to see the situation summery, magic-written, on the front.

CO: Lieutenant Copy

Soldiers Accounted: 24

Soldiers Usable: 21

KIA: 2

Hospitalized & Arrested: 1

He ground his teeth at the less-than-perfect summery, and turn over a page to see the more detailed portion of the report.

Incidents:

All three Incidents were connected. Details were not gathered from the survivor before he was admitted to hospital, but it is in my confidence that somehow a pitchfork and an anvil were connected. No further investigation possible.

Parody sighed at the parchment. “That, copy, is why you get the milk runs. Don't fuck it up too.” He let more words of disdain fall before he turned another page to reveal another letter.

CO: Lieutenant Carbon

Soldiers Accounted: 24

Soldiers Usable: 23

KIA: 1

This time he wasn't as angry. Carbon was known for only screwing up with good reason.

All soldiers ready and awaiting attack. One soldier spoke too loudly of being a changeling. Too many ponies heard, so I had to beat him to death to ensure cover was not blown.

Suggested reintroduction to training for three more changelings upon return.

The Prince actually smiled at that. It was a rare trait, to be able to kill ones brother to save many brethren. Carbon was one of the more brutal and efficient Lieutenants. Parody did not regret having him one bit. He turned over again.

CO: Lieutenant Clone

Soldiers Accounted: 24

Soldiers Usable: 24

No mishaps so far. Will work on the infiltration immediately and send reports.

Thank the Queen. Parody thought. At least he had a soldier that knew how to act like a proper changeling. It was no coincidence that Clone was the damn best at solo operations and intelligence recovery. Another page gave another short report on the situation.

CO: Lieutenant Chip

Soldiers Accounted: 24

Soldiers Usable: 25

Found this dumb-ass all by himself. Seems he cut himself off from the hive without letting anyone know where he was going. Permission for a proper hazing into our part of the family?

Parody hated Chip for his overly casual way of talking to commanders. What sickened him more at that moment, though, was the smell of ink, so he put down the reports. He got off his hindquarters and moved away from the dusty rotten desk that he claimed as his. The dirt on the rocky ground kicked up and he paced over to the large wooded door; one filled with holes from aging. With a silent heave he pulled it open, and breathed in the wet, dusty air of the pit in the ground they currently called home.

Their base of operations.

6: Murder and Mystery

Kestral walked out the back door of the third burglary that morning. He had gotten to all three houses marked on his map for him, but only the first two contained a changeling. The third had a pod, but no changeling was in it. He had let the pony out and laid him in his bed, but he could only hope it did not somehow fester the problem.

As far as stealing went, he managed to nab some food for the day, but money went scarce at the latter two houses. He doubted the amount was useful, so he simply went on instead of pestering 'Discord' for anything. He really needed to think on what equipment would be useful for a while.

That had to wait, though, as Kestral noticed that the sun was nearly up. He cursed himself for letting time slip by while he had gone through houses for items to nab. To make matters worse, he was on the opposite side of the town from the forest. If he was going to make it in time, he needed to high-tail it. It wouldn't be easy with the authorities probably patrolling for someone suspicious.

Kestral walked around the house and faced toward the sun, determining if he could make it before the town woke up. He decided he could, and began looking for any guards that may have been walking about. When none entered his vision he began jogging toward the large, central piece to the town, the town hall.

As he jogged, he noticed that the architecture changed some. The homes seemed to turn into businesses as he progressed towards the center. Buildings that advertized objects of interest surrounded him before long. A furniture shop passed him on the left, and then a jewelry shop on the right. Several others passed by him. Eventually, he had passed a tree that looked like it had been hollowed out. He passed by just close enough to read the words 'Golden Oaks Library' on a sign out front, before continuing onward toward the forest. He would have to remember that later.

As he was about to pass the first set of houses on that side of town, Kestral noticed that there were a couple ponies walking towards him from down the street. He ran off between the two nearest houses to ensure he was not seen. He hid behind next to a silver trash can on the wall and waited for the ponies to come and go.

They passed, and though they were talking the whole time, he could not tell what they were talking about. All he heard was indistinguishable speech, so at least he knew they didn't stray too close. He poked his head out from his hiding spot and began moving up towards the street again. He observed up and down the road, and cursed the fact that a couple more ponies dotted the path. Too many to not be spotted. He could probably run through without recognizing him as a human, but if it was reported to the local authorities it would leave him in a tight spot for safe havens.

The more he thought about it, the more Kestral realized that last part wasn't right. The forest was no safe haven. It had beasts that stalked the night and probably more than a few creatures he didn't want to run into during the day. The fact that he was only found by wolves once was a good thing. He was lucky the first time, but luck wasn't something he found often. Kestral changed his mind on going back to the forest, and decided he needed to find a place in the town.

He would have to hurry, though, because as he watched, more ponies were waking up and exiting their homes.

Kestral looked around for potential places, but he could not tell which homes were empty and which were not. He didn't need to look for a more permanent place of sanctuary at that time, just a place to hide for the day. As it occurred, he spotted a set of doors a few houses down. To him, they looked like they led directly to a basement, which would have been perfect. He stealthily made his way past the gap between each house and went along the wall. He passed over some rather tall grass and stopped right at the two doors spread out just past his feet.

The lock was just a board nailed down to one side so that it could swivel around and set into the metal catch on the other door. He pulled around on the wood and grabbed one of the doors' handle. He pulled it up and walked down into the basement, closing it once again when he got low enough. A slit between the doors provided a fracture of light along the steps, but had far too little to make anything visible.

He flicked on his flame and looked. A pile of tools were thrown up against one wall, and a barrel with a faucet was on the other wall. Not much else of interest was in the room, so he killed the flame and laid down along one of the walls.

It was time to catch up on some well deserved rest.

Mayor Mare was not always the happiest of ponies in the morning. Often, the time of day provided another impossible task or ridiculous situation involving several guards yelling at each other for being late for clocking in or out. She still managed to put on a smile, though, as she walked in the town hall. Her secretary called to her without looking. “You've got that meeting today, about fixing the roof. Twelve o' clock sharp.”

Mare gave a curt nod and trotted on by. She remembered that some water had once again leaked in and got the floor soaked. She was not very happy that the problem would sprout again so soon after the last repair. If it became recurring she would simply find another construction company to fix it.

She opened the door to her office, left it ajar and went straight to her desk. A few letters sat on her desk, one of which she promptly opened and began reading.

Dear Mayor Mare,

It has been told to me that you are in need of a new construction team, and as an adviser of one I can honestly say that my crew can easily handle any...

She skimmed through the rest of it before folding it back up and setting it aside. The secretary must have been on a search and dropped a hint to some ponies. Of course, it was typical for only the expensive crews to go search for work since the cheaper ones were too busy actually working. It was just another problem she would need to solve. She picked up another letter, removed the seal, and began again.

Do ponies make fun of your horn? Is it too dull for your taste? Come on by the-

She stopped reading and immediately chucked it into the nearby trash bin. It was truly the worlds greatest mystery; Why one would send mail for horn-sharpening to an earth pony. That was a matter for another time, though.

Dear Sister,

Mare skimmed through her sister's letter as well. She always had a bad habit of stating so many useless details and asking redundant questions. She really didn't see anything important until she got to the bottom.

...so may I ask if we could hang out while I'm off the job for the week?

Sincerely,

Sis

She folded up that letter as well and placed it on top of the first. It would be a long day for her, one way or another. She looked at the stack of bills and statements in her inbox and began immediately. She grabbed the top parchment but stopped as soon as she heard somepony walk into her office.

“Um, Mayor Mare? I have something for the C.D.O.” a timid voice told her. Mare looked up to see a bright yellow pegasus with pink hair at her doorway.

“Oh, come on in Fluttershy.” She pulled out a blank piece of paper and readied her quill. “Now, what could I do for you on behalf of the Committee for Dangerous Objects?”

Fluttershy calmly walked over and pulled a few strange objects out of her bag, placing them on the desk for Mayor Mare to see. “I'm turning in an object.” A few pieces of brass metal and what looked like a piece of lead that was flattened out on one side. Some copper seemed to coat the lead at least partially.

Mare didn't know what to make of it, so she just went on with recording what Fluttershy knew of it. “And do you know anything about it? Any potential dangers?”

“Well,” she started, “I don't know much, but it doesn't look safe.”

Mare simply wrote that down instead of questioning intuition on the matter. “And how did you come across it?”

“Okay,” she paused, “I think one of my animals found it. Because when I came home from the market yesterday, I heard a loud...um... boom. And when I got to the kitchen, I found these in my pot of food I was boiling.”

Mare kept writing what she could. “Alright. Thank you for getting this to us Fluttershy, I’ll make sure to get this checked out for you. Anything else?” Fluttershy shook her head and began walking away. “Okay, you have a good time.”

“You too, Mayor Mare.”

Fluttershy made her way out, passed the secretary and went straight to the door. As she opened it, a lime green pegasus made her way in, before Fluttershy exited the building.

Mare watched the exchange, and followed the pony as she rushed to the office next to Mayor Mare's. She was only going to the local Warrant Officer, probably for a report on suspicious activity, so she didn't pay much mind to it. Only a minute later, though, Warrant Officer Longsword came into her office with his armor ready.

“Ma'am?” She nodded. “We got a special case, regarding a surprise changeling being killed already. I'm going to be taking one of the guards with me.”

Mare gave a curious look, but only nodded in response. Though the changelings had been defeated a few months ago, one popped up every now and again. The curious part, though, is that it somehow it had been killed. It was unusual, but investigating that was the guard's job, not hers.

As the pegasus and her unicorn escort began to exit, another pony barged in. A unicorn mare with chocolate fur. This time, Mayor Mare couldn't help but overheard the conversation.

“Sir! Sir, I need you to know. There's a dead changeling in my house!”

The officer just gave a perplexed look. “Really? Two in one morning?” He shook his head. “Okay, after I look at the situation for this mare's, we'll check out your house as well. Could you come with me while I do so?” The Mare nodded. “Alright. You two wait a second.”

The guard trotted over to the room next to his office. It was a bunk-room with nothing more than practical use in mind. Of course, it really is only used by transfers from other towns that don't care to find a better place to stay, so only a couple of ponies ever end up using it. He peered inside to see a Specialist putting on her armor, and smiled slightly. “You're off patrol duty today, Bash. You have two minutes to get ready before escort duty.”

Suddenly couple of surprised yelps escaped from behind the officer, causing him to whip his head around to see the cause of it. What he saw at the door was a bat-pony. He could recognize this mare as one of the night-guards. Next to the dark pony was a hog-tied figure on the ground, letting out loud breathes from its muffled mouth. He immediately went over to the two and watched as the bat-pony saluted. “Sir!”

“Sit-Rep. Now.”

“Sir,” the bat-pony started, “I woke from comatose in my own home, and after a while, my imposter came and I subdued it as needed.”

“How did you wake up?”

“I don't know sir.” She faltered slightly. “It looked like something had cut it open and drug me out of the pod. There was a trail of dried...uh, stuff from the pod to my furniture.” She had forgotten what the term for it was called, but it was unimportant to her at any rate.

“Well, shit. Go take it to the holding cell. We'll look at your place after I investigate these two ponies.” He said, referring to the civilians at his side. The bat-pony began dragging off the changeling towards a room in the back. The officer looked toward the secretary, whom had been watching the whole scene with surprise. “If anything else happens, tell ponies to wait here. I'll be back before lunch.” He didn't know what was going on, but he could tell that whatever it was, it was not going to be good for him.

And so, they walked out the front door.

“...and that's that full story? Are you sure there wasn't a memory wipe somewhere?” Longsword wrote down some last details on the story of the green mare in front of him.

After she woke up, the pegasus had recalled her last location being in the alley, taking out her trash. She spotted a trail of residue all over her couch and floor, and followed it back to her basement. She had flicked on the crystal lights and seen something out of a dying nightmare. Two gutted changeling pods were on the wall along with a changeling body sitting atop a mess of its own green gooey blood.

She had then gone to the safety of the town hall, screaming of course, before calming down and entering in a more polite fashion.

On another piece of paper, the Warrant Officer wrote down details describing the manner of the death. He noted that the one on the left had a jagged rip while the one on the right was cut perfectly clean. He also noted the trail of residue around the room. The changeling seemed to have run around the place before its predator nailed it next to the wall, and then carried off the mare into the living room.

Whoever it was, he or she seemed to come here before the bug got out of its cocoon. Else, the residue would have dried before the attack, or even, it wouldn't be there at all. This vigilante probably knew what he was looking for before he entered. The only thing that didn't add up was that there was also money missing. Perhaps the vigilante took it as payment, or worse, had a thieving friend with him.

He could only hope that the next incident of that night was somehow connected, so he could get more evidence to find this new threat to the town.

Longsword rolled up his papers as the mare finally responded. “I'm sure.” He nodded and motioned her up the stairs. “I'll get a team for cleanup later today. Thank you for your time.”

“Thank you.”

He didn't like changelings. No one did after the attack on Canterlot a couple of months ago. But this was out of his hooves. Capturing them was the usual method. Killing was only if it couldn't be avoided. If the vigilante knew of the changeling, it could have been reported, therefore he shall be arrested for circumventing authority, and it could have been captured, so first degree murder to boot. Breaking and entering, regardless of whether he knew of the changeling or not, and thievery or aiding a thief.

Whoever was responsible for this, was not going to get a very happy ending.

8: Second Wave

Kestral stirred awake again. The darkness still permeated the room, until a small flick brought a singular light to life. He brought himself up, pushing on the cold stone wall to keep his drowsy body stable. He had been drifting in and out of sleep those prior hours. It would be difficult for him to switch sleep schedules so quickly, so he'd just have to deal with it until his body felt it was the norm.

He stumbled on over to the entrance, peering through the crack that separated the doors. Dull red light greeted him, letting him know that dusk was at hand. He knew it was almost time to start another night of thieving.

Kestral took out the folded piece of cloth in his chest pocket and smoothed it out until it was completely unfolded, revealing the ink map. Only two houses had an 'X' on them, so it was going to be a less stressful night. Of course, it also meant he'd have plenty of time for proper thieving.

He drew his finger around the map, every which way in an attempt to find what he was looking for, until he realized that one of the oddly shaped designs had some writing in it. He spread his fingers to bring it closer and read it as 'Library'.

Perfect.

He closed the map up, lapping it over until it showed only the compass again. He turned it side to side, watching as the ink somehow stayed in pace with the turning. It still confused him greatly, but he supposed that was to be expected if he knew nothing of magic. Remembering his reason for bringing it out, Kestral tapped the cloth a few times, right in the center, and waited.

“Yes? What is it?” Discord called to him.

Kestral wanted to ask him a lot of questions, but knew that it was not the right time for such things. He would need to keep it short so he was ready for whatever may come. “Hey, remember when you said I could do magic? Did you find any potential 'spells' I could use?” The word felt foreign, but that did not keep him from asking what he needed.

“Yes. I've studied you a bit, and I have my theories, but I don't have much proof for them. Why?”

“Well,” he started, “i decided it would do me well to learn some more.” He padded the leather bags of gold attached to his belt. “I've got plenty of cash from today and last night. I found a library too, so if it's there just give me the name of the books.” Kestral didn't know much about magic, but he could guess that it would be easier on Discord to give him names instead of teleporting the books directly to Kestral.

If his attitude showed up on his statue prison, the marble Discord would have been smiling at that moment. Wide. “Very well.” He magicked away a significant portion of the gold in Kestral's pockets. At the same time, a slim piece of paper floated in from of him, which he quickly grabbed from the air.

“There you go. Two books with practical application. I can't guarantee usefulness, but I’m confident in my ability to read the resonant magic on you. Read them thoroughly. Anything else?” He patiently awaited Kestral's response, which was only slightly delayed by him putting away the list in his front pocket.

Kestral was about to say 'no' when he remembered something. He pulled out the gold band he found earlier and presented it before himself, since he had no idea if Discord could actually see everything on his person. “Do you take jewelry as a form of payment?”

“Yes. Anything else?”

Discord seemed to be rather pressed for time to Kestral, but he didn't question it. “Nope. That's it.”

Not even so much as a 'goodbye' and he was already gone. It wasn't his place to, but Kestral wondered why Discord was so short. He simply chalked it up to being a mastermind of defending this place. Of course, he couldn't deny the possibility of his need to focus on one of his 'tools' as he had put it. Whatever the reason, it was important.

Kestral pressed up on the door, letting in soft starlight. He let the hard wood slide down his fingers, and he softly placed it back in it's shut position.

The crisp, cool air ran through his fingers, replacing the cold, humid air from the basement. He took a deep breath, writhing in the clean air. In the basement, Kestral could smell the musky scent that he was surely putting off himself. It had been weeks since his last shower, but he had gotten used to the smell. That didn't make it any more comfortable for him to taste his own sweat in the air, though.

He took out his compass again, and lined himself up with the line. With it in his hand, he began making his way to the end of the alley. He checked around to ensure that no guards were in the vicinity, then quickly moved across the road.

Up ahead, he saw two guards begin a route leading his way, so he moved onto a connecting road and began going around. He kept a swift pace until he saw a group of three ponies making their way down that path as well. To keep from being seen, he began weaving around houses. Many of them had lights on, but that was to be expected so soon after dusk.

He saw down the street was a pony talking, just outside the door of a house. He assumed that there was another one in front of her. Kestral was starting to get better at telling genders from a distance.

After checking the other direction, he burst into a sprint across the road, hoping he wasn't spotted in darkness. His compass moved considerably, so he knew the house was near. He jogged in the alley, watching the needle as he went. As he passed a house, it pointed straight for it, so he stopped. He unfolded for the map, and sure enough, there it was in front of him.

He heard the two ponies talking, he was sure, so Kestral moved up along the side, watching for ponies. At the corner, he could see that he was at the same house as the two that were conversing.

He walked back, and he looked at his options. There were two windows on the lower floor, with two more on the top. If he went in the bottom, he would more than likely be heard by the two. Of course, it would be difficult to pry open the top one while hanging on a ledge. It was just a chance he'd have to take.

He set his foot on the lower window and leaped up, grasping the ledge. He set his feet on the head of the lower window, and reached for his flat bar. He stuffed it under the edge and forced down. It came open surprisingly easy, like it wasn't locked. After that, he pulled himself in as quietly as he could, then shut the window.

He moved his way across the carpeted floor, listening for activity. To his surprise, there was loud hoof traffic in one of the upcoming rooms, which was left ajar. Either there was a third pony, or they were quick to move. He was going to need to wait for a better time to move to the basement, so the checked what rooms his could to find a hiding place. Kestral found a closet, and carefully entered, not quite closing the door all the way.

He waited a moment to hear someone either go down or come up. It was the latter, as he heard a female voice speak out.

“Are we ready?” She asked.

“Yeah,” a male replied, “everything's perfect. Bring her up.”

Kestral didn't know what that meant, but he could hear hoof clopping leading away. A minute later he heard two sets of hooves come back up.

“-mber when you said you haven't been in a herd before? I asked my coltfriend to show you what it's like.”

A bit of silence followed, but the mare continued.

“Don't be shy. I'll even help you. Come on~” She made the last words sound sing-songy, and began pulling her friend into the room. After the shuffling of hooves, the door closed lightly, and all the words of the three became muffled.

Knowing he was safe for a moment, Kestral opened the door and ensured that the room further down really was closed. It was, so he quietly moved on and down the stairs. He passed by the living room and found the basement. He opened the door and made his descent down more stairs.

Upon entering, he saw not two, but four pods lined up against the walls. He quickly went to the first pony, pulled out his knife, and sliced open the membrane. He grabbed the brown, unicorn colt, and pulled him out, only dragging him out a few feet before dropping him. Kestral went to the other pony. He cut her prison open as well, and dragged the pink, pegasus mare out in the same fashion.

When they were both relatively safe, Kestral made his way back up again. He made sure to remember their details, because one of those ponies up there is not a target. He looked longingly at the kitchen as he saw it, wishing he could ransack it, but kept going, knowing that there were lives in his hands.

He hiked up the stairs and came to the bedroom where he could hear the 'ponies'. He grabbed his revolver, but eyed the window down the hall. He knew that as soon as he did this, he would have to escape quickly. The sound of a gunshot might not have been familiar to those ponies, but they would likely come running anyway. He slowly grabbed the door knob and turned, pushing on the door.

The three were all there, the stallion sitting on his hind legs at the edge of a large bed and the two mares just in front of him. Now that he could hear the moaning of one of the mares, he realized what was happening. The colt was having a very good night.

The changeling was having a good night.

Not anymore.

He pulled on the hammer of the gun and aimed at the head of the stallion. With a pull of the trigger, a loud gunshot resounded, sending the two mares into a fit. The body changed to it's true form instantly, making the real pony start screaming. He pulled back the hammer again and aimed at the pink pegasus. There was so little time to react, that the 'pegasus' could only stare in awe and blink.

Another pull of the trigger, and a second bullet was fired right into the skull of the target. It's body dropped to the ground as well, adding reason for the last pony to panic.

He watched her as she backed into the corner, on the verge of tears. She seemed to whisper to herself, offering some kind of prayer to whatever gods she worships to help her. It would have gone unbroken if he stood silently, but he spoke up instead.

“Hey, just so you know, your real friends are down in the basement, unconscious. If I were you I'd help them out.” He backed out of the room, closing the door as he went. He holstered his revolver, and jogged over to the window. Kestral forced it open, crawled through, and dropped to the ground.

He began running. Running hard. He ran as fast as his legs would take him. He didn't care if someone heard him, he just needed away from the scene. Surely the guards would have been at the house within a moment, so Kestral needed to get away. He ran hard down the alley, until he reached the end. He sat down next to a trash can, gasping for breath from the sudden exercise, but it quickly subsided as fast as it came.

He may have heard a guard at one point yell, but no one was following Kestral, so he was safe. He took out his map and checked for the last house of the night. It was not too far, but from what he could tell, the location was not in the mess of houses around him. It seemed to be near the business district, so he could spy out some good thieving targets on the way.

On the way to his next target, Kestral ran by a couple of place with much interest. The first was a local bank. A large marble building with no guards on the outside, but a couple of lights were on and bright on the inside, indicating some kind of night crew. The second was a jewelry shop; one that was decorated quite well, and had some expensive pieces on display at the front windows. The third was a large mansion, located at the end of the residential district. It had a large courtyard and a tall, metal fence surrounding it.

Kestral knew very well what his big targets were.

But those were for later. Right then, he stood behind a three story shop, next to a set of trash cans, looking for a way inside. There were windows all over the building, but most were barred, and the only open one was at the third story, with no real way to reach it. A wooden door on the back was present, but was locked with a modern-looking deadbolt.

Even if he forced open a window, the bars would keep him from getting in, unless he found a way up to the third story, which was not in his set of skills. Kestral would just have to get creative.

He walked up to the door. He easily saw that the the whole frame was made of wood. He smiled at that and thought one clever thing.

Wood burns.

He focused on the area surrounding the deadlock, making the carbon within the center of his attention. Slowly, the wood at that spot crackled out into a small flame, burning away at the oak around the lock until ash was all that was left. To keep himself from touching the hot knob, he simply grabbed his flat-bar and pried a little at the door, until it swung open. He entered, and cautiously grabbed the cooler inside knob to close the door.

The inside was filled with toys and dolls. Knickknacks and doodads filled walls and shelves every which way. A nearby doll somehow pierced the darkness with it's button eyes and seemed to contemplate his soul.

He flicked on a flame to abate the shadows, and looked for a basement. No such thing was seen by Kestral. The only things he could see from the door was the counter before him, and a set of stairs off to the right. His best guess was that since he couldn't go down, he needed to simply go up instead.

First, though, he went over to the counter and looked at a primitive looking cash register. It was something out of a historic movie, before electronic cash registers took over.

The technology around here seems to be pretty mix-n-match. I wonder if they know what computers are.

Kestral pressed a large button, and the drawer popped open with a loud ka-ching. He grabbed some bits and stuffed them into some of his empty pouches. It wasn't a large amount, though, so he guessed that there was a safe spot somewhere. He looked around the counter, finding anything out of place or looked like it could hold a secret compartment.

He couldn't find anything, so he decided to move on, since he still had upstairs to look through. He jumped the counter, walked over to the steps, and began climbing. When he got to the top, he saw a kitchen joined with a living room on one side, and a door leading to a bathroom on the other. The kitchen was of great interest, but it could wait for Kestral. He continued on his trip up the next set of stairs, and pulled out his knife to prepare himself.

He walked through the open doorway and found himself in a rather large bedroom, taking up all the space where an attic would normally have been. A couch and two chairs circled a low table near him, while a bed and wardrobe stood at the farther end of the room, next to a door. He ran over to the door and swung it open, revealing a closet containing some clothing two changeling pods side by side.

Kestral went for the changeling first, readying his knife. He plunged his hand into the membrane and grabbed the bug. He pulled it out by the horn and quickly stabbed it, but missed. The squirming from the bug had thrown his aim off just enough to miss the eye, and land the knife on the carapace behind it, leaving a deep, but not lethal, cut.

The changeling kept shifting its body rapidly, making Kestral lose his grip. It managed to grasp Kestral's legs with its own and pulled itself down. It unsheathed the sharp fangs in its mouth and chomped down on his thigh. Kestral tugged, but it only made the wound hurt more. He swung down with his blade to meet the bug's eye, and succeeded.

Slowly, it released the grip it had, and became limp. Kestral pulled the fangs out of his thigh, silently praying that they didn't pierce anything important. He knew little about medicine, but he did know that a deep cut to the femoral vein or artery could be lethal. Although, he could never remember how deep they were into the thigh.

He set his backpack down, and unfastened his belt. He pulled down his pants to see four red marks, with streaks leading down. They weren't bleeding profusely, but did require some attention. He opened his backpack, and took out a small blue box with a red cross on it. He opened it to find only the most basic medical supplies. A bottle of rubbing alcohol, small and large pads, gauze, large stick-on bandages, and some painkiller.

He sat down, and put some of the alcohol on a pad before rubbing it on the wounds. Once they were more or less sterilized, he took the stick-on bandages and placed them on each of the bite marks, leaving only a couple stick-ons left. He placed the bottle bag in the box, and simply threw the used rubbing pad to the ground. He clicked the box shut, threw it in the backpack, and put his bag back on.

After pulling up his pants again, he stood up and looked toward the pony on the wall. He went over and cut open the membrane, allowing some of the goop to spill out. He grabbed the wingless and hornless pony, and pulled him out of the closet. He placed the equine on the bed, and wiped off the goop on his arms into the sheets.

He pulled out his map to see that there were no 'X's on the map, so he was done for the night. He walked over to the nightstand next to the bed, and began pulling out drawers. Only a few papers and documents were in there, so he made his way to the wardrobe and did the same. He threw out clothing, trying to find something useful. At the bottom, he saw a silvery-looking bar only the length and width of his palm. He picked it up and tried to read the words inscribed on it, but it looked like Greek to him. The most he could read on it was the number '50', and nothing else.

He only saw one bar, so he pocketed it and went on to the stairs, descending into the second floor. After rummaging for food again, he went on to the lowest floor, and out the back door. With his targets out of the way for the night, it was time for him to take it slow and get to that library.

Kestral peered out of the bushes as the trio of guards walked off. With them gone, he came out of the shrubbery. As he had closed in on the Library earlier that night, he saw that a light was illuminating the higher portion of the tree. Its occupant was apparently still awake, even when the sun had left visibility several hours prior.

He pulled out the piece of paper he had been keeping, and looked at the two names listed on it: Shadowmancy: Practical Edition, and Telekinetics: Novice. He put it back up and shook his head. If he had read those names a week before, he would have scoffed and thrown the paper away, laughing at the ridiculousness.

Things tend to change quickly, don't they?

He put it back up, just in case he forgot somehow, and walked around the base of the tree. Once he reached a window, he peered inside to see a lightless room, absent of life. He grabbed his flatbar and stuffed the end under the window, then forced down. It cracked open, and he pulled it all the way up before entering.

Once he was in, he closed the window again. He could hear a lone voice, though muffled through a door. He flicked on a flame and saw the array of shelves before him. Along the living wood walls were rows of books, with some shelves jutting out to hold even more. As he passed by each one quietly, he began reading plaques to find the section he was looking for.

Fantasy...Sci-fi...Historical Fiction...Realistic Fiction...blah blah, blah blah blah.

He skimmed over a couple section until he hit the nonfiction area. He filtered through the subsections until he found one called 'Sorcery'. Right as he did, he heard the creaking of a door opening upstairs. Instantly, he flicked off his flame and got up against the bookcase.

“Huh. What was that?” Kestral listened as the pitter-patter of tiny...somethings made its way down a set of steps. Once it sounded like it hit the bottom, it stopped. “Must have been nothing.”

Kestral waited for a moment, listening to the distant sound of clay or glass moving against more clay or glass. Another minute or so after it finished, he heard the 'foot'-traffic return and make its way back up the stairs. Once the door closed, he breathed a silent sigh, and began looking for the books.

He skimmed over the section, hoping to find them quickly. He grabbed the Telekinetics book, and looked over again for Shadowmancy. He couldn't find it, so he went to the other side of the bookshelf, and scanned through its selection. The books were not arranged by alphabetical title, so Kestral was surprised to find it next to a book titled Sexual Sorcery.

Odd.

He backed up between the shelves and pulled off his backpack. He put the books in the bag and closed the bag up. He swung it over and put it back on. He crept as best as he could on back to the window. He opened it up and excitedly rushed out, eager to learn new 'magic'.

He needed to get Discord to give him more names, if those two books worked.

He needed to find more money.

9: Authoritative Figures and a Dose of Fear

A small, pale child walked behind a tall, bearded man. The kid was meager, but still walked with his head high and back straight. His white t-shirt was worn, dotted with tiny holes that could easily grow out to a noticeable size. His child-sized jeans were loose around his waist, held only by a rather large leather belt.

The man he followed was tall and thick. The man was well-defined with muscles all over his body, with hardly any fat layering over it. Of course, it was difficult to see that through the jeans and leather coat that draped down past his waist. The sturdy, square face of his father was there, even if the child could not see it.

The two walked away from the large, two-story building that the child resented. Not for its intents or purposes, but instead, for some of the other children its purposes are for. To the child, some of the other children were vermin. Some of them made fun of his accent all the time; Others, of his lack of 'colorful' clothing, his short, militarized haircut, or even his 'barf green' backpack.

It was earthy green. But that hardly mattered to him.

“So Kes,” the older man began, with a deep Russian voice that could make an American soldier's spine shiver, “did you fight today?” He asked, going directly for the answer he wants to hear.

“No.” Kestral replied, his voice sounding like a mix between Russian and Midland American, “I got away today.”

“No? What happened?” The man led on.

“I saw Charlie in the front door, so I ran out. Then I went to the playground and went in the back.”

“I saw that!” The man said it with excitement, as if it were good news. “You are a little track star. And you climb fence like pro!” The man sometimes spoke with what most Americans described as 'broken' English, though being his son, Kestral could understand perfectly well.

“Thanks. I just wish he would stop trying to hurt me.”

The man looked back at Kestral with a twinkle in his eye. “You know, you could make him do that. Just beat him up like you practice in taekwondo.”

“Father. You know why I don't want to.” Kestral sounded as if he was trying to scold his dad, but it only came off as annoyed.

“Yes...I suppose I do. Giving people a chance to learn before you 'correct' them is...a noble goal, I guess. But do not be mistaken that it is the only reason he hasn't learn yet.” The firm voice told Kestral that his father was quite set on his words being the truth, and he dared not question his father on such a thing. He only wished that his father would understand that they were not quite eye-to-eye on the matter.

“Yes, father. I just don't want to be in trouble with the school like he is.”

“Please! People these days are pansies. If you want to get something done, you must do it yourself. If you want to prevent an attack, then you must prove you are as strong as the attacker! How do you think the Cold War was won, hmm? I was not old enough to be in it, but I truly learned from my history. And your uncle-”

Kestral stopped listening as his father went on. He just watched as the two passed drab building after building, with no real order. Some were small apartments, with a playground built next to them. Others were businesses that thrived when right next to residential areas. A strip mall was in the beginning of its construction, and none knew if it was a curse or a blessing.

They walked into one of the editions, and to the apartment building placed next to its entrance.

“So what do you think?” His father asked.

“Huh?”

“The beers, I mean. Not the hunting.”

Kestral was a bit confused, but connected the dots rather quickly. “Oh. No, I don't want that.” He found it odd that his father would actively push Kestral to drink, in spite of the laws in America.

“You know, when I was in Ufa, beer was considered a 'soft drink'. It is safe to drink, son.”

The two entered the apartment and went directly for the elevator. A smile from the front desk told them that nothing was wrong, so they continued. “I know,” Kestral replied in a whisper, “but I just don't like the taste. And it burns my throat.” They entered and used the key for the top floor.

“Oh, I know. But once you get used to the weak American alcohol here, you can drink the real alcohol. Like vodka. Straight from bottle.” Kestral nearly gagged at the thought. If his father could do it, though, he probably could as well. “Besides. Once you get used to it, the burning goes away. Mostly.”

The two sat in silence for a while, counting the pings of the elevator that told them how many floors up they were. Soon enough they were at the top, with 'pent' being typed out on the screen in the corner of the elevator. As the two walked out, Kestral's father gave him a sad look.

“Son, I want to ask. Do you know why I tell you all these things, and stories, and try to teach you?”

He nodded. “Because you want me to be smart, and to do things right.”

His father gave a sad smile, then shook his head gently. “No, son. I teach you these things because you are my family. You are all I am.” He looked away, refusing to show the soft look that took over the once stern face. “Friends are there to protect you for a time. Family protects you forever. When I am dead and gone, I want to rest, knowing I gave you everything I could have to help you in life.”

Kestral thought about how harsh his father was sometimes, and began to understand why the man was that way. He hugged his father from the side tight.

“Thanks, dad.” Was all he could give.

Kestral could feel his arms and legs shifting quickly, and his vision go black. Right before he slipped back into consciousness, he heard a feminine voice call out to no one in particular.

“Well this is pretty tame for a nightmare.”

Mayor Mare tapped her hoof incessantly. Her stomach growled, loud enough to fill the midday silence of her office. She stood in the doorway, waiting for Longsword to come back with news on the next 'situation' of that week, and more importantly, to come back with some lunch.

A second growl went perfectly in sync with the squeak on the door, revealing the officer himself, with two paper bags in his telekinetic grasp. While she her mouth watered at the sight and smell of a grilled tomato and cheese sandwich, the stern look he had told Mare that he was anything but happy.

“Was it bad?” She asked. A simple nod was his reply, and she already knew what was about to happen. She closed her office door and nodded her head to the secretary to let her know not to disturb them. After that, she followed Longsword into his office and closed the door, leaving them alone. Mare took a seat in front of his desk -something she did not do often- and began opening the paper bag presented before her.

They both opened their items in silence, neither truly wanting to talk about how gruesome the past two nights had been. They unwrapped the paper around their sandwiches and each began their meal.

“So what are the facts?” She started, knowing that she would need to begin somewhere.

“So far,” he swallowed quickly to open his airway, “another one dead, changeling, replacing someone, and that new pod design.”

That sent her into mild confusion. “New pod design?” She inquired.

“To hold changelings and ponies alike, for different reasons. We didn't see these new ones until yesterday, and we can't figure out if their special or not.”

Mare found it quite odd that two months after the attack is when the changelings would pull off variation in their habitual creations, but she knew little about them, so it may have just been normal. “What about the cause of death? Is it the same as yesterday's?”

He shook his head sternly. “Only one so far, and it was a blade. Bug gave the killer a fight, too.”

Mare looked at the stallion expectantly. “Fight?”

“Yeah. Couple drops of blood -well, red blood- were on the floor, but they didn't lead anywhere, so either he disappeared on the spot, or he was prepared to deal with wounds. Either way points more towards a professional at this.” He gave Mare a stern look, as if it just went from bad to worse.

“Or whoever it was simply covered it, knowing it would give away their route.”

“Not likely.” He retorted. “Most amateurs don't care where the blood is going, just that it's leaving them. And he just left the exit path wide open with the charred door on one of the houses.”

“Are you kidding me?” She choked her words down to a whisper. “We have a killer on the loose and he doesn't even know how to use a doorknob?”

“It was locked, actually. Since it was burned open we can almost assume that he has a unicorn accomplice.”

“Almost?” Her eyebrow shot up.

“Well,” he shifted a little in his seat, “there's the chance that it was burned by a torch, or something of the nature, but it would have more than likely spread, so we're going with unicorn accomplice.”

“How do we knew it's not just a unicorn? It would explain how he can get away quickly.”

“Because our only witness testifies that she never saw a unicorn.”

Mare sat with her mouth agape. “Witness? What did she see?”

Longsword tried to relax his shoulders, as if what his words held were nothing more that fanciful thinking. “She thinks that... she saw a human.”

Mare's heart raced a little, before settling back down. She half smiled at the officer. “A human? Really?”

He didn't laugh or snicker like she thought he would. He simply kept his face straight. “It's all I have to go on. To make it worse, two days ago a mare named 'Roseluck' claimed she was nearly assaulted by a human.”

That made Mare's heart deflate. If things didn't settle soon, it would end up like the Zecora incident, but with less hiding and more swordplay. It didn't help that she would have to make an announcement to the town about the attacks. And the thieving for that matter. Of course, if this so called 'human' was skulking in the shadows so much, he may not have been openly violent, and was just reserved about certain creatures.

“Also,” Longsword continued, “I found these.” He magicked couple pieces of metal onto his desk, allowing Mare a look. She stared in dismay at the copper-colored fragments before her. “I went through the CDO bin to find anything, and I found a similar object,” he pulled out the third piece and placed it next to the others, “but couldn't find the file. Care to tell me if there's a story to it?”

“It's, uh... Fluttershy found it in her food two days ago. She claims one of her animals may have put it in there.”

“A possible story. But these two,” he motioned to the metallic pieces, “appeared to have entered the bodies of the changelings at high velocity. High enough to go all the way through theirs skulls.”

If what he said was true it would mean a potential threat to the Elements of Harmony. “Aren't those from the attack the guards investigated last night!? Why wasn't I informed of it this morning?”

He waved his hoof. “I was going back and seeing if I missed anything. All damn morning. You're lucky I remembered today was my turn to get lunch.” He offered a wink to try to lighten the mood, but it helped little.

Mare sat and pondered what she should do. It was confusing, to say the least, how the attacker was willing to kill off changelings like they were soulless animals, but wouldn't kill a pony to protect himself. “What do you propose we do about this?” She asked, open to ideas.

“Well,” he took a deep breath, “The first thing is to put this up on the bulletin board. I'd say put fifty bits for information that is of use, and make the town aware of thieving and nefarious activity. I would wait until the weekend to make an announcement for this. The human thing isn't even worth mentioning until we have some kind of proof, so I’m going to go get a... an acquaintance to help me with that part. You know how ponies panic with their moderate xenophobia.”

“Are you sure we should wait to tell the town? They won't be happy if they found out we stalled on this.”

“Ponies aren't immediately in danger, since the attacker seems to go for changelings, and doesn't care to 'dispose of' witnesses. The only ones in danger are the ones that will just jump to a new home in a different body, whenever they feel threatened, so I don't feel there is much point to just warning the changelings ahead of time.”

She nodded, and stood up. “Okay, I’ll let the staff know that we're holding a town meeting on Saturday. But if there is even a single pony hurt by this thief, I will call the meeting immediately.” She saw him give a curt nod as she opened the door and walked out.

She was going to need a lot of posters to go around town.

10: The Most Narrow of Escapes