Dreams of a Hunter

                I've always wondered how she sleeps so soundly. She is such a beautiful young girl, always cheerful and bright. The mob of people outside screaming and yelling can't even break her slumber. They insist that I killed someone, or quite a few people, but that's for later. Still smiling in her sleep with all the noise and commotion almost brought a tear to my sociopathic eyes. I'm still a little confused on how they found out where we lived. The stench of the collective masses in this hellhole makes me sick, the way the men look at the women, and the dirty, overpopulated town known as Ponyville doesn't even have proper plumbing, they have outhouses and bucket showers.

They all live there working lives, which isn't exactly the Canterlot standard, but they manage, and are happy. I struggle to survive and provide for a little girl at the age of 20, and they have the nerve to wonder why I poach in the precious woods they barely use. I can still remember the look on that girl's face however, I wanted to savor her pain as she saw me rip the limbs from my prey, OUR food. Fluttershy I think her name was, she was a rather cute girl, things might have happened between us if they hadn't have tracked me here. I was wearing a mask after all, I always wear a mask. I wouldn't go hunting without it, I couldn't endanger Scootaloo like that.

She has too much ahead of her, and I must have taught her some things, because she's been getting quite rowdy lately, and a little intimate with her friends as well. I didn't mean to teach her she could be attracted to the same sex, but alas, Charlie makes too much noise. The thin walls of this run down place we call home doesn't help either. Sometimes I wonder that when I'm gone, if she'll remember me, I don't know why. I don't feel emotion or pain, and to actually care about something this much is quite the odd thing for me. It is of course my duty after our mother started her drug abuse. It started after our father left, the whore still has the audacity to sleep here, if she's not out with some filthy man from this decrepit town.

I take it personally however, because my father was a horrible man, and I think my rebelling influenced his leaving, which of course he left right before Scootaloo was born, so I like to think it's my fault, so that it doesn't have to be hers. Ah, the mob is beating on the door now, and Scootaloo is starting to rustle, I think she's finally coming to, if I survive this, I'll write the events of the past three years or so down, but I'm not too sure that I can even attempt to kill or incapacitate this many people. Wait, what am I saying, these are people from Ponyville.