He Who Stands On Vigil

Run Fast, Run Far

Train screeched to the halt at the Ponyville railway platform, letting off the already well-known ponies and some unicorn stallion, sporting a warm winter fur cloak. He was acting as a totally strange one, shuffling on his hooves and unsure where to go, but then the local information and entertainment bureau, commonly known as Pinkamena Diane ‘Pinkie’ Pie emerged:

“Hello!~ and welcome to Ponyville! I am Pinkie Pie, and what’s your name? Wow, that’s one cloak! Hope you’re here to stay, handsome, ‘cause we’re going to throw a GREAT PARTY!!” – the newcomer pouted involuntarily at the sheer volume of attack on his ears and waved a hoof timidly to Pinkie:

“Name’s Raven Wing, Miss Pie. I am a half-step-uncle to Sunrise Glitter, and I came here to take care of her.”

“Hawkri, you’re overacting just a wee bit here.” – whispered Twilight.

“Okie-dokie-lokie, then! See you around!” – and the pink fluffy menace bounced off cheerfully, humming a catchy tune.

Nick Hawkri, or, rather, Raven Wing, given the circumstances, let loose a heavy sigh. He sucked at playing at the stage – always did, but he had some experience in pretending, and this could’ve come handy.

“Excuse me, sir!” – he addressed the passing Big Macintosh. – “Could you possibly tell me, how can I get to…” – he extracted the piece of parchment from his saddlebags and checked the address. – “Meadow Lane, 15?”

“Eeyup.” – the gesture indicated the way, that Hawkri knew pretty good already. But still, he had to adhere to the role he was playing. Keep it cool, fella, he told himself.

“Mighty thanks, good sir. Raven Wing, by the way, pleased to meet you.”

“Big Macintosh. My pleasure.”

The stallions exchanged a hoofshakes, and Raven Wing trotted down the street, sweating bullets under his cloak. First round done and out, more coming.

***

Finally, he made it to the oh so well-known threshold and opened the door. It looked pretty weird to him – while seeing his own hands manipulating objects, the hazy image of his “telekinetic aura” was also visible. So, he just got inside.

“Sunny, I’m home.” – he called out casually, taking off his coat and putting the bag on the floor. The clatter of hooves alerted him that Sunny was not alone – this should’ve been Cheerilee.

“Hey, Hawkri… - wait a second. You’re a?..” – the mulberry mare creased an eyebrow, looking at the stranger.

“Cheerilee, look into the mirror.”

“Why would I…”

“You’ll see.”

Still a bit hesitantly, the schoolmarm did as she was told. The surface of the mirror seemed blurry by the moment, and then Cheerilee was ready to swear she was seeing things – right there the appearance of mousy-gray unicorn shifted and dissipated, like a morning fog at the sun, letting out the familiar towering features of a human.

“Hawkri? Care to explain?”

“Cheerilee, this was Princess Luna’s plan. I am now here incognito, as the Sunny’s half-step-uncle Raven Wing, from the middle of nowhere called ‘Cimarron’. Somewhere on the border of Bearussia and Equestria, to my mind.” – Hawkri grinned, feeling silly. Words hung like a leaden weights, ready to fall down and smash him to pieces.

     ***Two days earlier***

“Princess, are you sure this is going to work?” – Hawkri was spinning in front of the mirror for a good fifteen minutes, observing his new persona.

“I am quite sure, Wing.”

“Well, alright, let me put it straight. I am not sure this is a good idea because:

a) Hawkri – me, id est – is a guardian of Sunny. How would we put up with that?

b) How would it be that I am a six feet tall bipedal human?

And

c) How would Sunny know that this is me?”

“Fret not, Hawkri. I have it all sorted out. Your guardianship will be reserved after you, just transferred to the new persona you are. The illusion spell I’ve put on you is good enough to perfectly synchronize any of your movements with the same that your pony persona would do. Your horn provides some room with manipulating objects with your… how do you call them?”

“Hands?”

“Exactly. And yes, I’ve tuned the spell so that Sunny would have no problem recognizing you – it will be natural. Is this all?”

“But what if I’ll ever need to reveal my identity?”

“Just make your partner look in the mirror.” – Luna waved off nonchalantly.

“Okay. Then…” – Hawkri lifted a sheet of parchment, scanning through it, building a complicated pout.

“It says I am the denizen of some border-side settlement called ‘Cimarron’. Somewhere on the border of Bearussia, isn’t it?”

“Quite so.”

“And this says that me, the half-step-uncle of Sunny, is the trained and qualified expert in raven mail.”

“Indeed.”

“I do not have the slightest idea on how to deal with ravens. And of course, the same is for the raven mail.”

“Don’t worry, Nick. This would all be fine.” – Twilight nudged Hawkri’s elbow with her hoof, trying to reason and pacify the man.

This worked.

“Well, I believe this is for the best. Thank you, Princess. I should better get going.”

***Back to the present and back to Ponyville***

“So, this is how it all works, huh?” – drawled Cheerilee, immersed in deep thoughts. Her eyes were wandering all around the stallion she had seen, even though now she knew that was Hawkri.

“I guess it is. Anyway, how’ve you been? How’s Sunny?”

“She’s just adorable. As always, I should say.” – the teacher pony smiled, distracted from her train of thought, and ruffled the filly’s mane a bit. Sunny never seemed to object.

“Glad to hear. Because I have had one hell of a time. Care for a cup of coffee, Cheers?” – Hawkri had already lit a cigarette and put the coffee pot onto the stove.

“I won’t mind. We have some muffins – Ditzy got us a fresh batch, and there are some leftovers, if you’re hungry.”

“Don’t mind if I am. Heey, there’s my girl!” – flicking the cigarette away, Hawkri lifted his want-to-be-daughter, embracing her tightly.

“I missed you, daddy.”

“So did I, my little Sun. How’ve you been here?”

“Just dandy! Miss Cheerilee brought me to the field trip to Canterlot, and I’ve seen the Canterlot Castle! And then we got to the gardens… and… and…” – Sunny was clearly overjoyed with her experience, and she just couldn’t find the right words to describe it.

“And don’t forget – you’ve outmatched me in a chess match not once!” – Cheerilee chimed in with a soft smile.

“Yes, and we also played those giant chess in Canterlot! It was soooo awesome!”

“Wow, I like what I hear! Sunny, would you mind to play on yourself for a while – I need to discuss something with miss Cheerilee here, okay? And then you’ll tell me it all. I am all ears.”

“Sure. I’ll be upstairs.” – Sunrise Glitter flashed Nick her smile and zipped away.

“She’s so… energetic. Guess she really loves you.”

“I do my best for her, Cheerilee.” – Hawkri tried to shrug off the inconvenient theme, but of no avail – this here mare was in no mood to let it off that easy.

“What’s that behind your back? Is it a…” – Cheerilee tried to reach her neck out to see, but our hero already turned to show her. Yes, he forgot to take the sword off, and the black leather scabbard now clinched tightly against his back.

“Yes, Cheerilee, it is a sword. A spatha, to be precise.” – baring the blade, he demonstrated it to the schoolmarm.

“Hawkri…”

“Easy. If not this blade here, Sunny would’ve been in far worse situation.” – a deep rut cut through Hawkri’s forehead, and his eyes flashed dangerously. – “Woo, water’s nearly boiling. Excuse me for a couple of minutes…” – he reached out to the cupboard to get all the ingredients for his famous brew.

“It smells great – what’d you put in there?”

“Just a pinch of ginger and a bit of cardamom. The biggest secret is how long you want to keep the coffee on fire. When it only starts to boil you want to lift the pot, and do it like this…” – Hawkri wrapped his hand in a towel and started to rhythmically thump against the bottom of a coffee pot, as if it was a drum. Keeping it on for a minute or so, he put the pot on the stove again, until the coffee began to boil, and repeated the procedure.

The smell of brewing drink wafted in the kitchen, as Cheerilee produced two cups and put some muffins on the plate.

“Mmmm! Tastes so nice! And the smell… Whoa, Hawkri, you’re one magician, you know that?”

“Just an old trick. A friend of mine taught me kind of a while ago, and I’m just using his wisdom.” – Our hero smiled with his eyes only, taking a sip from his mug.

“Anyway, now tell me, what could be so much important that you just hightailed to Vanhoover and came back disguised as a far-fetched relative of Sunny? What’s the big idea?”

That stare. The direct and intent gaze from the beautiful mare’s eyes. Piercing – and irresistible.

“Okay. I will tell you. But I need you to promise me one thing. This is kind of a rite, you see – I want you to keep this in secret. Once we will overcome this, you may tell Sunny one day – when she’ll reach the legal age, and never earlier, mind this.” – Hawkri put his mug down and shifted the glasses to the top of his head, so his eyes were in direct contact with Cheerilee’s.

“I feel funny when you look at me like this, Nick…” – mumbled Cheerilee, trying to look away. Alas, it was all in vain – the deep, marshy-green eyes locked her gaze, hypnotizing and suppressing her will.

“Would you swear on the good memory of your Ancestors and with the blood of your mother’s heart, with the light of the Sun and the Moon and with the free winds, that carry us around our lives – would you swear that what you’ll hear will never leave this room until need be?”

“I… will.” – Cheerilee felt as if her heart was groped with some warm paw and gently squeezed; she felt it fluttering, her head spun around as if she was dizzy, and there was nothing else in this world aside from this deep voice and those terrible eyes, that pierced her soul and burned a flaming brand of words on it.

“I swear on the good memory of my Ancestors and with the blood of my mother’s heart, with the light of the Sun and the Moon and with the free winds that carry me around my life, that I will never betray your trust in me, Nick Hawkri.” – Words seemed to flow all on their own, escaping her reason and good will, and permeating the air with their weight.

“Good. I accept thy oath, Cheerilee. Now we are bond, and this bond shall stay.”

“So be it.” – And the light blacked out in the eyes of a poor mare.

“…Sorry about that, Cheerilee. I believe you, but this is way too serious.” – Hawkri’s voice came muffled, as if he was speaking through the thick pillow, as Cheerilee blinked the blur from her sight.

“Did I just… blacked out?”

“Yes. It was a pretty potent rite, sorry. But now, having your oath, I can tell you everything. So you’d better make yourself comfortable – this is one hell of a story.”

Despite the warning, the whole ‘Vanhoover Chronicles’ took not that long. Cheerilee was listening silently, only nodding occasionally. The passage with the ‘false Wrench’ and the canteen scene made her wrinkle her nose in disgust.

“That’s terrible.”

“It is. It looks like there’s a whole network of agents of Hegemony around Equestria, and they somehow know about each of our steps – or is it just my paranoia?”

“Time will tell.”

As Hawkri was telling her of the librarium – the bookstore of books lost and forgotten – Cheerilee blushed, fiddling with the teaspoon uncomfortably.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah… Please, go on.”

Hawkri submitted to the request, but his mind wandered away from his narrating – it was back to the book he had written and acquired from Ahriman, the Liber Colloquii. It was kept securely in his bag, buried under the change of clothes and a bits pouch, but he couldn’t just get rid of the idea this all was somehow set up. For him.

“…and then we boarded the train back to Ponyville.” – taking a sip of the already cold coffee, he lit a cigarette. Cheerilee opened the window, and the cold winter air came in gusts.

“So, I knew someone was after Sunny for some reason. But what does the Hegemony has to do with it?”

“I was told that they plan to rewrite the history, but my guts keep nagging me that there’s something deeper in here. Deeper and way more grim. I hope my guts are just a bad prophets, but…” – Hawkri pulled deep on his cigarette, cloaking himself in the bluish cloud of smoke.

“Anyway, keep a good eye on Sunny.”

“I will.”

Cheerilee collected the dishes and put them into the sink, preparing to do the washing.

“Leave it be, I’ll do this.” – the click of the window locks sounded like a locked and loaded gun.

“Okay.”

An awkward silence fell. Hawkri was standing near the window, leaning against the windowsill, immersed in his thoughts, while Cheerilee was bitting her bottom lip. Her facial expression betrayed it all – the thoughts were rushing through her mind like a flood that escaped the old and worn dam.

“I guess I’d better be going, Nick… I… My sister is coming tomorrow, and I need to… uh… get the room ready for her.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah… Thanks for the coffee. And for the trust. Tell Sunny she’s a wonderful filly.”

“Sure will. Bye, Cheers. Come by anytime.”

They embraced each other – a human in pony disguise and a teacher pony.

“I guess I’ll see you around, Raven Wing?” – Cheerilee winked at Hawkri with a playful flick of her tail.

“I am quite assured you will, milady.” – courteously smiled Raven Wing.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Cheers. Watch yourself.”

“Sure will. You too.”

“ ‘kay.”

The snow was falling all around, making stars shine brighter, like a diamonds on the smooth black velvet of the night sky.

The figures are all set on the board, and Sunrise sat, lower lip jutting out in a deep thought.

“Sunny, why are you so negligent around pawns?” – smiled Nick, taking his daughter’s pawn with his knight.

“They are just pawns, daddy? What’s the big idea of them?” – asked Sunny, bemused, moving her bishop to cut off Hawkri’s rook.

“Look.” – Taking the pawn, Nick moved it forward – one small step. Sunny’s white queen took it, and Nick’s knight leapt forward like a bird of prey, destroying the queen and jeopardizing the white king.

“Checkmate, my little grand master.”

“Wow, daddy! That was just great! I’ve never seen that coming!” – Sunny was just beaming with joy, looking on the board – inspecting, calculating, assessing.

“This is called the ‘gambit’. You give the lesser – and gain the upper hand. Remember, my little sunshine, this is all about pawns.” – Hawkri took one of the figures – a white pawn – and fiddled with it, rolling it in his fingers.

“The pawn is the mighty player, even if it is not as unpredictable as a knight or as long-shot as a rook or, for instance, bishop.”

“Yes, I see – bring the pawn to the other side of the board, and you have a promotion to it.”

“That’s only one side of the matter, my dear. You see, in the middle of the game – the mittelspiel, as they call it – when it is vying for dominance in the center of the board and when knights and bishops wrack chaos – the pawn may slip its way through thin and thick, supporting, defending or even threatening the other figures. It holds immense possibilities, as you do.” – Sunny flicked her tail against her blank flank and drooped ears, as if her vigor was flushed away.

“Now, now – it is nothing so shameful not to have a cutie mark. You may excel in anything you wish – would that be art or science, gardening or chess – whatever you wish. This comes with age.” – Hawkri’s hand laid on the filly’s hoof, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I understand, daddy… Thank you…” – oh Gods, those eyes. Nick felt his heart melting into the puddle, as it was each time she called him ‘daddy’.

Too bad he had to go one day.

The Hearts Warming Eve was already incoming, and the denizens of Ponyville were basking in the glow of upcoming holiday. Raven Wing, the new citizen of Ponyville and the new guardian of Sunrise Glitter, now got a new job at the library – he was working at the archives and minded the shelves, restocking them and running some errands. The day before he was subject to the ‘welcome to Ponyville’ party, and now he was kind of hungover – someone spiked the punch, and he had certain suspicions of a certain mare.

“Hey Wing, how’re you doing?” – Spike’s head popped up from the upper shelf, making the unicorn (who, of course, was a disguised Hawkri) nearly jump. The pile of books he was holding in his hands – a “telekinetic grasp”, of course – dangerously wobbled, threatening to ruin the results of his long and hard labour for the past hours.

“Greetings, Spike. I am fine, thanks – just a bit hungover after that soirée the day before.  I suppose I had just a tad bit too much fun.” – Wing smiled to the ‘number One assistant’, arranging the books to the corresponding shelves.

“Yeah, I guess you are. Pinkie Pie and Berry Punch sure are one challenge to withstand…” – harrumphed the purple drake, quickly descending the ladder.

“Quite so. Is there anything I can help you with?” – Wing’s attention was distracted, as Owloviscious landed on his back. Hawkri was already sweating bullets – how was that possible? The whole “back thing” was illusion! But feeling the claws, resting against his shoulder and the warm, feathery softness against his ear, he relaxed. The bird didn’t seemed to object, he just “Whoo”-ed once and fluffed up his feathers.

“Huh, he seems to like you.” – smiled Spike, dusting the shelves with a small feather brush.

“My special talent is the interaction with birds.” – Raven Wing a.k.a. Hawkri explained, letting an inner exhale. – “I didn’t got my cutie mark for nothing, you know.”

“I guess so.” – Drake shrugged away the question, keeping on with his duties.

“So, anyway, you are from the border with Bearussia, right? Have you been there?”

“Couple of times and passing by, quite so.” – replied Raven, stacking up the parchment blanks on the counter.

“So, how’s it in there? Are there truly bears striding down the streets?”

“Quite so! And more than that, they all wear some kind of high fur hats – they call it “papakha” and all of them play some string musical instrument – “balalaika”! My goodness, you’d never believe, but they’re actually quite good with this one!” – Hawkri was trying oh so hard not to just burst out laughing.

“Wow. And what are those…” – Spike hesitated for a moment.  – “ ‘laikas’ look like?”

“Well, they resemble the guitar a bit – but they are triangular, and they have only three strings. And the sound is pretty high-pitched, so, I guess, they have something akin to banjo.”

“Weird.” – was the only verdict of Spike.

“Whoo.” – agreed Owloviscious, smiling.

***

While our hero was enjoying his small talk with Spike, in the mountain hall of the Coven Primus awakened from his slumber. The torches were unlit, but he needed no fire to see in the dark. He, the descendant of a far more ancient and powerful forces then anyone would have ever presumed, was lying relaxed for a moment, stretching after a refreshing slumber. His wonderful scales glistened even in the darkness, while his eyes seemed to devour all the light that fell to them – two pools of immense darkness and pure void.

“I take that as the Game has begun…” – he purred to himself, smiling.

***

“Once thee hath steppeth to the path of war, never wilst thee turn away from it.” – Hawkri grunted, rubbing his eyelids; the Liber Colloquii was pretty far-fetched, to his mind, and runes danced in front of his eyes, seemingly grinning at him and mocking his own face – the signs shifted and changed, traded places, while only the crude sketch of his face was smirking at him, as if saying “I know dat feel, bro.”

Something made our hero want to shut the book close and send it flying across the street. But instead…

“Да ебись ты конем.” – sighed Nick, standing up from the bed and undressing for the night. The book was left negligently on the nightstand, and the gilded sign on the cover seemed to squirm like a snake, trying to escape the leather bond.

“Утихни нахуй…” – yawned Hawkri, submitting to the warm embrace of the blanket.

And it was quiet in the house number fifteen, Meadow Lane, and only the quiet humming of the wind in the chimney was heard.

But let us leave Hawkri and Sunny for the time being – and let’s go see the neighborhood.

House number fourteen – Romena is here, knitting something with joy.

House number thirteen – Cherry Garden, the local visual artist, creating her new masterpiece – with so much vigor in her movements that the globs of paint are flying all around.

House number sixteen – Clock Work, the local Doctor Whooves, actuating the old-looking alarm clock.

House number seventeen… Well, Cheerilee lives here.

So, let us slip inside – without invitation, sneaky and stealthy – and here we go.

***

Cheerilee sits in a worn-looking armchair, holding a glass of Apple’s Jack in her hooves. Her mane is disheveled, and she clearly is drunk. Even the quick glance at her drooping ears and the sorrowful eyes betrays you the cause of her spleen – she is depressed and frustrated. A lonely mare, classic spinster – she is tired, no, she is so much fed up with being alone.

Alone.

Just listen to that word. The way she whispers it – almost inaudible, almost… doomed. She is a teacher, and all her students are like her own children to her. But then they just go, and she is left there, stuck as a nail, with no way out. Not at her age – she wouldn’t find anything other to do, and she will keep dragging this yoke till she will be retired…

Wait, Cheerilee. We will gently interrupt her from that spleen, taking the glass away from her and gingerly pulling away the strand lock of mane from her eyes.

It is not about any… carnal feelings. No, she is used to the feeling of permanent tension, and she had learnt her own ways to deal with it.

It is all about just being close to someone.

It is already late at night, and the Hearts Warming Eve is coming soon. So, shall we not offer a helping hand to those, who need it?

Cheerilee was already fast asleep on the couch, curling into a ball and smiling in her slumber. Let us just cover her with the warm plaid and kiss her goodnight. She deserved it.

***

Morning greeted Hawkri not with the warm rays of pale winter sun, but with the terrible rumble and noise outside. It seemed as if the meteor crash landed at the porch, and Hawkri, leaping up from his sleep, dashed down the stairs, even not minding that his bare feet sound nothing even near their familiar ‘thup-thup-thup’ – instead, there was a sharp clopping of hooves, but that was not of the essence.

Kicking open the door, he ran outside, baring his teeth instinctively, all of his five senses gaining information.

“What happened?” – Clock Work emerged from the window, sporting a vintage-looking night cap.

“I’ll see.” – Raven Wing trotted up to the large snowdrift, which was not here yesterday.

“Anyone alive?”

A low, weak moan was his answer. Hawkri began digging, throwing a good handfuls of snow with each shove, and soon he had seen the sizable wooden box.

“I’m down here! Help…” – the voice called out again, filled with pain and sounding like someone there was on the verge of blackout.

“Hold on. I am coming!” – Two more powerful shoves, cold and snow already numbing his very bones, and Hawkri was presented to the sight he sure wasn’t ready to see.

There was Ditzy Doo, Derpy, harnessed tightly into some sort of yoke, which was connected to the small wagon, now resting in pieces.

“Ditz, what in the world has got into you?”

“Air pockets…” – blurted Derpy, drifting off to unconsciousness.

Silently swearing to Gods, Hawkri pulled the blackened out mare at his withers and dragged here inside, together with the yoke of hers.

Clock Work, who silently watched the scenery, sighed and put the kettle on the stove. It was his day off, and he was planning to stay in bed late – though the fate decided another way, and a good cup of Darjeeling wouldn’t do much harm.

***

“Ditzy!.. Ditzy!..” – Hawkri changed the compress on mare’s forehead, dipping the fresh towel in the cauldron of cold water, brought by Sunny – filly had not long ago studied telekinesis and was proud of it. Hawkri smiled, accepting the damp cold vessel, surrounded in pale green aura.

“Быстро учится. Вся в меня…” – an unexpected thought flashed in his mind, only to flee as a morning haze when Derpy stirred and moaned.

“Ditzy, you hear me?”

“Yup… Ooof!”

“Stay down. What happened? And what the heck is this for?” – Hawkri presented her a yoke, lying near the couch on the floor.

Derpy tried to rise from the couch, but winced in pain and bit her lip, not to cry out.

“Stay down!” – commanded Nick, shuffling through the drawer in search of aspirin. Not much of a remedy, but nothing stronger was at hand. So, lacking the better…

“Drink it, Ditz – this shall ease the pain.” – Hawkri slid a hand under Derpy’s head, slightly cranking it forwards to make it easier for the hurt mare. He couldn’t help but notice the silkiness of her mane, flowing like cascade on the couch pillow.

The Pegasus greedily drank the water, coughing at the bitter aftermath of the pill.

“Should be better. I’ll go fetch the doctor. Sunny, would you mind?”

“Sure, Uncle Wing.” – the filly responded from the bookshelf. They’ve agreed at that Sunny would call Hawkri ‘Uncle Wing’ or just ‘RaWin’ when anypony not knowing of his disguise is around. This was for the best.

“Hey…” – came the weak voice of the mailmare from the couch, when Hawkri already was holding the doorknob.

“Yes?”

“Thanks, Nick.” – those simple words, complete with a warm loving smile, made Hawkri’s guts freeze. However, he just shrugged and paced quickly to the Ponyville General Hospital to fetch the doctor.

***

“Come in, Phosis – fear ye not.” – Primus smiled, stepping into the circle of light.

He was an imposing sight to see. Long, muscular frame of a feline, covered in pearl-mother glistening scales, flexible tail, whipping at the air, two large wings, folded casually at his back – and atop all that an equine head, proud and elegant, complete with a carnivorously looking beak, made to tear and shred. Eyes were two pools of pure darkness, and he himself was emanating an air of threat and terrible, primal force – which was far beyond any reasonable mind, and made the whole bizarre ensemble of what Primus was an incorporation of something ancient – older then the world itself – and it was utterly terrific.

“My Lord…” – kneeled the Griffin, eyes down. – “I have some news for you.”

“So speak up, child – I like the news, whatever they are.” – Primus’ claws clicked against the cold rock of the cave floor, each looking like dagger.

“We’ve captured a spy, my Lord. She was trying to infiltrate our area of influence and disrupt the connections between our agents. We suppose that she was sent by the Pony Princesses. They must be suspecting something.” – Phosis added a short curse in Griffish, raising from her kneeled posture.

“Is that a lady? I’ll be, this gets more and more interesting by the moment…” – Primus smirked, enjoying the view that only he could have behold. The Phosis looked for him as a glob of pure crimson wrath, connected with the Alariche – the thin link, weaved of the golden kindred feeling and the bluish gray rivalry.

“I’ll talk to her. Bring her here, and ask Alariche to stand on guard. You may be dismissed then, Phosis.” – Primus tasted the little chunk of Phosis’ self – the vivid misty corporation of wrath, basking at the glow of its power and enjoying the coppery taste of it.

Like fresh blood.

Phosis kneeled again and flared her wings in a short salute. Folding them against the sides, she silently jumped out from the hall, leaving Primus alone for the time being.

The Play has begun. With his long claws Primus scratched the air, beholding in awe the supercomplex cobweb of endless possibilities and relations. Only one spot was invisible to his eyes, irritating him like a buzzing fly at the corner of his sight – the bleary smudge in the middle of colorful blaze of Ponyville, as if the tapestry was torn in there and the blank wall was seen from under it.

I know where you are, little Sunrise. The Play has begun, and you have made your choice.

Primus’ train of thought was interrupted by the clatter of hooves against the rock, and he addressed his involuntary guest with a smile:

“I say, such a pity I have to welcome you here, milady. If I were warned beforehand, I’d have prepared the place, miss…”

“Yule. Matilda Yule, please.” – Answered the coming – a female donkey of middle age, trying to remain her composure.

Primus stole a quick taste of her – a wonderful serving of bravery, love and devotion, though mixed with the spicy tinge of suppressed terror and pride.

She is good.

“I say, Miss Yule, it was such a tidbit to know you’re coming! Ah, woe me, you must be tired. Please, do take a seat and help yourself.” – A stone platform emerged from under the frightened donkey, gently bumping her from the downside and shifting to some kind of a seat.

“Pray – take a seat. We have a long talk ahead of us…” – grinned Primus, emerging the identical if bigger seat for himself. Obedient to the silent order, the Minotaur scout came in, holding a bowl of fruits. With a bow to Primus, he set it in between the stone seats and fled silently, as a shadow.

“Help yourself, Miss Yule.” – The abhorrent host gestured wide, grabbing a ripe apple.

“I am sated, thank you.” – replied Matilda with dignity. The effect was just a tad bit spoiled with the slight shakiness to her voice.

Primus wasted no words, clawing at the bonds between her: some other old donkey, sporting a ridiculous wig… A curly pink pony, chattering without end… Some more ponies… There. Princess Luna.

The ancient menace scowled a bit. This was a strong opponent. He should have known. But no harm done, he concluded. With such figures that he had, the Play would be complete in no time.

And what about Hawkri the human?, whispered something in his inquisitive mind. Indeed, this was a distraction. From how much he had known, Steel Hooves, who tried to kidnap the foal, was brought down by this man.

The very idea of it tickled Primus’ senses, and he kept replaying the scene of battle in his mind. The vivid, burning hot, vermillion berserker rage of the Minotaur, fixed to the only purpose – to tear the offender apart, and some other strange, piquant feeling – of noble purple, that sure was wrath – but righteous? wrath – emanating from the new figure on the Board. Then it was the same bitter taste of fear and pain, which were dirty-yellow and tasted like ash and the wondrous blast of death. After dealing with the corpse the shine of wrath around the man subsided, letting go the greenish feeling of affection and concern, that tasted tangy, like the first leaves in the spring forest.

He will be a good hunt, whispered the voice. He may also be the last straw. We need him.

Primus agreed to his mental companion, turning back to his involuntary guest:

“So, Miss Yule – it was my pleasure to meet you.” – He bowed courteously, pretty much sincere. – “I fear this is the end of our meeting.”

***

“Nothing lethal we have here – a fractured hoof, minor splinter of thighbone and a sinew sprain.” – stated Doctor Stables, the green glow of his magic subsiding. – “What I prescript is casting the leg, no physical exertion and plenty of rest.” – He smiled to Derpy, who tried to return the favor, but involuntarily winced in pain.

“Here’s the list of medical reserves you’ll have to supply with, Mister Wing.” – the surgeon levitated the parchment to Hawkri, who accepted it with what seemed like magic grip.

“Hmm, those are pretty strong painkillers, Doc. Are you sure?” – he asked, lowering his voice.

The brown stallion let out a sigh, looked behind his shoulder and motioned to the hall. Can we talk in private?, this supposed to mean. Hawkri nodded.

“Sunny, would you please sit with Ditzy for a while? I need to talk to Mister Stables here.”

“Sure, Uncle Raven. I was about to read her the new novel of Daring Do.” – Sunny levitated the tome before her, harrumphed and began reading. The expression of sheer bliss on Derpy’s face was priceless.

“Is it all that bad, Doc?” – asked Hawkri, sitting on his haunches (as it seemed, while he just crouched to keep the conversation low).

“Well, the splintered bone is a pretty nasty thing, mister Wing.” – the medic levitated the glasses off, letting out the sigh and wiping them with the lap of his lab coat. – “She may gain insomnia due to sheer pain. Every tiny movement may provoke a paroxysm of it.”

“I see…” – murmured Hawrki, scanning through the prescription again. This could cost pretty much.

“May I ask, sir Wing – you seem to have a rather decent knowledge of medicine. Those drugs are not just some mundane everyday ones, you know…” – stallion’s gray eyes darted at Hawkri, who shifted uncomfortably.

“Err… I was in pretty much same situation, Doc… Once I’ve run into a nasty fight on the border and was hurt pretty bad.” – Lying was never his cup of tea, but Stables seemed to buy it, so – so far so good. – “And I was prescript with the same. I remember the couriers of Pony Express flying to Stalliongrad to get it.” – Our hero was ready to swear that his pony persona drooped its ears in gloom.

“Oh! I see.” – The surgeon harrumphed, putting the glasses back on and rising. – “Well then, good luck to you, sir Wing. The ordinance of intake is stated in the documentaries inside the packs of medicine. If you’ll have any questions, please, come to the hospital, first floor, study 15.” – The two exchanged a hoof/handshake, and a small pouch of bits clang against the doctor’s hoof.

“What is that for?”

“We say ‘Don’t refuse a gift, don’t accept the blow’, sir.” – winked Hawkri.

“Why thank you, sir.” – the brown stallion was visibly amused and touched with the small present. – “I wish your marefriend to get well soon.”

Hawkri let out a small laugh: “Ditzy is not my marefriend. She’s just a friend of mine, that’s it.”

“Well, then I assume that you will find one soon!” – retorted the surgeon with a coy smile, putting the pouch into his saddlebags.

“See you again, sir.”

“See you.” – as the door closed with a click, Hawkri exhaled and rubbed the corners of his eyes with the fingertips. That was a close call.

“Doing good here, girls? All on the chit-chat?” – smiled our hero, pacing leisurely inside the living room, where Derpy was listening to the narration of Sunny.

“Shhh!” – the Pegasus shooed at Hawkri, smiling to Sunny, encouraging the filly to continue.

“Sunny, darling, could you please put the kettle on the stove? The embers are still hot, and you know where we keep the firewood. Just take care, fine?”

“Okay, Daddy. Be right back!” – the peach-colored filly zipped to the kitchen, leaving Hawkri and Ditzy alone.

“Feeling better, Ditz?”

“Kind of... Hawkri?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. I’m such a klutz, and you are here to help – always there...” – Ditzy’s eyes began to well with tears, and Hawkri sat near her on the couch, resting a hand on her chest.

“That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”

“I guess...”

An awkward silence fell, interrupted only with the occasional cracking of firewood in the fireplace.

“Ditzy?”

“Yes?..”

“Listen, this would look weird, but – look at me. Do you see human-me or somepony-me?”

Ditzy narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side, creasing an eyebrow:

“Well, it’s a double vision. I see a human you – and then I see some gray stallion.”

Whew. Magic works flawless, thank you, Princess.

“Well, this is complicated. Thank you, Ditzy.” – Hawkri carefully hugged the wounded mare, caressing her mane a bit.

“And what’s wrong? Why is it so?”

“I’ll tell you – when the Sunny will be asleep. It is too early for her to know.”

“I see...”

After a minute of silence, with dozing off Derpy and Hawkri, braiding her mane absentmindedly, a soft clip-clop of little hooves informed him that Sunny came from the kitchen – for some assistance, that is?

“Daddy... There’s no firewood.”

“I’ll get it, sweetie. Just hang in here, fine?”

“Sure.”

The firewood issue being sorted out, and our hero, bringing the last batch of wood inside and bringing the crispy chill of the winter bliss from outside. Once the embers are fed with some new wood, the fire, timid at first, flickered in the stove; however, in the matter of minutes it already roared full-throttle, radiating waves of warmth and melting ice on the windows.

“Hawkri, may I ask you for a favour?” – Ditzy’s sleepy voice tracked his attention.

“Yes, what’s it, Ditz?”

“I was thinking... Could you please fasten something to my leg, so I could fly home? Dinky is all alone there...”

Nick nearly facepalmed hard. Blast it, he completely forgot of the Derpy’s lil’ sister, Dinky! Shame on you, Nick Hawkri, you’re such a halfwit ass.

“No way, lady, you are staying here. I’ll go fetch Dinky, and y’all stay here until you are good as new.” – Nick stood tall, hands against his sides and mocking gravity to his face made Derpy smile.

“Really?”

“Of course. Who do you think we are? And Sunny will be happy to see Dinky, so it’s a ‘win-win’ situation. And still, the more the merrier!”

Ditzy Doo waved her hoof, attracting Hawkri closer. He submitted, sitting on the couch. She repeated the motion, as if saying “Closer!”. Once again, he leaned almost down to her face and was rewarded with a quick peck in the cheek. It was unexpected, to say the least, but our hero swallowed all he had to say, seeing Derpy blushing like a mayflower.

So be it...

***

Primus closed his eyes, making himself comfortable on his rock podium, covered with furs. He had much to do, as the Play was already acting.

The complex web of relations and possibilities, somewhere ghostly or only budding, dissipated from view, changing with the view of a large chessboard, adorned with the figures crafted with keen and precision. Primus strode around, caressing the pawns made like timberwolves and other creatures of the wild, smiled at the rooks, looking like Minotaurs and saluted mockingly to the Griffin bishops. Each figure was towering good three feet above Primus’ head, and the marble they were made of felt warm to the touch, as if it was a living flesh.

“There we go, my Black Queen...” – he smirked, leaving a deep claw rut on the side of the figure, resembling quite a notable personality. – “Your time is about to come... But it is not now.”

The beast averted its gaze from the queen and looked at the opposite side of the board, where white figures were standing. Pawns were Royal Guards, crafted with precision and attention – every single figure was different. Facial expression, posture – it all was different.

But it was not the pawns that worried Primus. Even though he had always known that they were the most dangerous players by far. No. It was the white king he was interested in, and the white queen – and where the king’s place was taken with the whirling cloud of haze, cloaking the figure behind it, the queen figure was made as...

Sunrise. Little Sunrise Glitter is the key to the king.

Primus smiled, seeing that one of the flanks in the white army was barren. This was a place for Hawkri, but he passed away, and so did his figure. This was a mysterious riddle, and Primus was excited of what’s going to come.

“Let it be. So far...” – the echo caught the small chuckle and played with it, making it expand to manic laughter and descend to the quiet snicker, permeating the very air of this place – out of any system and devoid of reason.

***

“Okay, ladies, I guess I’ll have to leave you be for a while,” – Hawkri smiled, putting down Dinky’s bag in the hall and producing a prescription sheet from the stand. – “I’ll go hit the shops and nag at the pharmacist until I have what I want!”

“Okay!”, “Sure!”, “Take care, Uncle Wing!” – was the reply. Nick felt his heart throb.

“Be right back. Sunny, you are in charge! Attn-shun!” – Raven Wing made a mocking gesture of a Royal Guard, repeated by Sunny, much to the amusement of both Doo sisters.

“Lieutenant Glitter! Our HQ hath given ye the order to watch this location and prevent anything that jeopardizes our coming evening meal! Do you understand the order?”

“Sir, yes sir!!” – Squeaked “lieutenant”, trying really hard not to laugh her tail off.

“Then – dismissed, lieutenant! At ease!” -  Hawkri saluted, to be followed by Sunny.

“Aye, Captain!” – piped in Dinky, also saluting.

“And for you, Corporal Doo, the HQ hath given a special order! Ye must keep company to Lieutanant Glitter and the VIP – Miss Ditzy here! Ya got me?”

“Sir, yes sir!!” – Both fillies reported in unison.

“At ease then, ladies!” – laughed Hawkri, hugging both foals. Derpy expressed her approval in flapping wings instead of clapping hooves.

***

Despite all his hopes, the pharmacy business went smooth. Pharmacist accepted the prescription, scanned through it and dove under the counter, rummaging through it, while Hawkri was counting the claimed amount of money, humming a slightly gangst-ish tune from an ol’ movie:

“Money! – It’s gas!

Grab that cash with both hands an’ make a staaash~…”

“Here you go, sir.” – The popped up pharmacist derailed his train of thought oh so harsh, handing him all the requited medicines. Paying his bill and bidding farewell to the helpful employee, Hawkri strode out of pharmacy and was rummaging through his innumerable pockets to produce a smoke, when he bumped into something soft. Something soft squeaked.

“Beg pardon... Cheerilee?”

The mulberry mare smiled shyly, dropping the paper bag from the pharmacy to her saddlebags and pulling down the pink fluffy earmuffs.

“Hawkri, that’s an encounter! What has taken you so far so late?”

“Nah, just walking. The promenade-a-soiree, you know...” – laughed Hawkri, cropping the Prench words mercilessly. – “And you?”

Cheerilee sighed.

“I was... I was just shopping a bit. I need my sedative to get rid of insomnia. That’s it.”

“Вот ведь бедолага…” – mused Hawkri to himself, offering Cheerilee a hand. She accepted it, and he paced down a bit to keep in line with the lady.

“Nick?”

“On the line.”

“Thank you. For…” – the dark fuchsia shade of the mare’s fur turned even darker on her cheeks.

“???”

“Well, that other day I was totally smashed, you know… But then… Well, thank you.” – she nuzzled the man affectionately, reaching to his neck – if anything is closer to a straight full-blown kiss, line your shot!

“Cheerilee… I may sound weird, but what are you…” – the momentary flash of recognition sparked in our hero’s mind. The couch, Apple’s Jack, plaid… - “What if it wasn’t me?” – Nick asked with a coy smile.

“I’ve found the lighter. Your lighter. The plastic one, red-and-orange.” – the desperate schoolmarm looked at our hero triumphantly, as if she was nominated for the Neighbel Prize.

“You got me red-handed, officer.” – sighed Hawkri in defeat. – “It’s okay, really, Cheers. What are friends for, anyway?”

***

The clock ticked midnight, and everypony in the house number 15 on Meadow Lane were already fast asleep. Fillies were set in Sunny’s room, and Derpy slept in Hawkri’s room, while he himself set on the couch in the living room. He was not asleep, hovewer – lighting a candle and smoking a cigarette as a late-night snack for a cup of tea, he was scanning through the pages of his book, never even troubling himself with the comprehending of what’s written there. He was somewhere else in his mind, summarizing, thinking, trying this and that – and, however, this was a “no win” situation. Cheerilee on the one hand and Ditzy on the other. Both showing some attraction to him. Both experiencing some feelings.

The longer he lived here, he assumed, the more factors appeared that prevented him (and effectively!) from coming back home. This was as it was said by one of his favorite writers, sir Max: “You are shackled to the whole world, that you drag with you. You don’t see it or feel it, but it’s always there – the friends, the family, the relationship, the memories – it’s all in there.” And now this weight of the whole Universe was doubled.

Hawkri squashed the butt in the spam can and sighed. He really missed the ‘Asshole Hawkri’ days sometimes. This tension was simply unbearable.

***

The Hearts Warming Eve day had begun just as a usual one – snowing all day long, sunshine and crispy chilly air. Hawkri was busy at the library, reshelving it after the party Pinkie threw yesterday – this time the crazy pink mare decided to pull some intricate practical joke. However, the core of it remained unchanged – she swapped the science books with the books on how to arrange party and the “Baking yummies for total dummies”. But it would have been too easy to just spend a couple of hours, searching the library upside down and finding out the decoys – no, the pastry chef had changed the covers! And now, for instance, the “History of Griffin Race” could be the “1000 and 1 idea for a bachelor party” or a “Best Pranks Known To Ponykind”, so Hawkri gained all his patience, gritted his teeth and, with the support of Twilight and Spike, began the work. As it was said in his homeland, they had to work ‘от дальней стены и до обеда’, which was perfectly genial – to fuse the space and time together and apply it to the manual labor.

“Ugh. Another dummy…” – grunted Spike, putting the book of “Grimoire Of Grimdark And Ecologically Dubious Creatures” to the side.

“And what’s inside, I wonder?” – snickered Raven Wing, opening the next book.

“Uh… ‘The Pros And Cons Of Using The Baking Powder: Reference Guide’. This is just stupid!” – outraged the drake, stomping his feet at the ground.

“Take it easy, Spike – we needed this reshelving for quite the time already, so…” – Twilight tried to reason her number one assistant, and found some support from up the shelf: Owloviscious let out a very meaningful hoot, before dragging one of the volumes out and bringing it to Hawkri.

“Thanks, mate!” – The book of “Theory Of Magic Relativity” by Starswirl the Bearded was in fact an almanac of anecdotes.

The quartet of them worked for the most part of the day, with a short break for lunch, during which a very interesting conversation was held:

“So, Raven Wing – what’re your plans for the HWE?”

“For what, now?” – Hawkri put the sandwich down, creasing an eyebrow at the curious abbreviation.

“Hearts Warming Eve.” – giggled Twilight, taking a sip of tea. – “The holiday, you know.”

“Oh! Well, I guess, I’ll spend it with Sunrise, my half-step-niece!” – Raven Wing tried really hard to shrug off the question – but he sucked at pretending he never cared.

“Come on! As far as I know, you are now also caring of Derpy and Dinky, aren’t you?” – pushed the persistent dragon.

“Miss Doo is hurt, so I decided that, as a gentlecolt, I am obliged to help her by all means.” – The “gentlecolt” tried to play cool, but then again – ‘u suq, nigga!’

“Spike tries to tell you that you can always ask them out. You know, maybe go out somewhere…” – smiled Twilight, finishing her sandwich.

“Err; I haven’t considered this kind of idea, though! This may be really nice…” – drawled Hawkri, fiddling with the teaspoon absentmindedly. The chain of thoughts was really simple: if he’ll concentrate on only Derpy, he’ll hurt Cheerilee, and vice versa.

“Дачтобтебячертидрали…” – he murmured under his breath, making sure that no one heard his outrage.

His silence, however, was considered as the uncertainty.

“You weren’t celebrating that much of Hearts Warming Eve, right?” – asked Twilight point-blank, concern in her voice.

“Quite right, Twilight. I was not.” – Hawkri’s gaze was really, really thankful.

“Then, I guess, it’s a good time to start with?” – the lavender mare smiled, pretty coyly.

“I guess so!” – grinned Raven Wing.

“Anyway, lunchtime’s over – back to work, everypony!” – piped in Spike, accompanied with Owloviscious.

“Who?”

“Us!”

“Who!”

“Ya, rly.” – laughed Hawkri, finished his tea and went back to the storage room.

Once the first dusk of night had timidly set foot on the land, Twilight called Hawkri upstairs; Spike was enjoying his rest, with a bowl of pink quartz and a new Daring Do book. Wiping the book dust off his nose and sneezing a couple of times, Nick submitted to the summoning, ascending to the round room on the second floor, that was normally used as a living room.

“I am here, Miss Sparkle.” – Twilight turned her head to the stallion and nodded vigorously, inviting him to come closer.

“What’s wrong?” – Our hero approached, cautiously and careful.

“Here’s the formal part: this is your payment for this month…” – a decent pouch of bits was levitated to Hawkri, who accepted it with a courteous gratitude. – “And this is a little bit extra. Let’s call it ‘the premium’.” – Another weighty pouch landed at Hawkri’s saddlebags, complete with a wink from Twilight.

“Twilight, this was totally unnecessary…”

“I insist, Nick. Besides, you can take both Derpy and Cheerilee out. Lemme think… I guess herds are legal all again.” – Twilight grinned sinisterly at Hawkri, and the look on her face made a tiny iceball roll down his spine, leaving myriads of prickly ice needles in its wake.

“Twi, you’re a matchmaker.”

“Objection! – I prefer the term ‘shipper’.” – The unicorn mare made her best puppy dog eyes. Hawkri didn’t bought that, nodding his disapproval.

“And besides, you can always use some extra bits, right? When have you last just enjoyed yourself?”

“Err… When Sunny called me ‘daddy’ for the first time?” – Hawkri fired haphazardly – and hit the bull’s eye.

An immediate “D’awwwww~!” was simply unbearable.

However, our hero managed to survive – and even save the sentient mind, which was an important feature.

“Okay, and what’s the ‘informal’ part?” – asked Nick impatiently.

Twilight stopped “d’awwww”-ing and turned serious:

“I wanted to talk to you about something I’ve noticed. Last week I’ve been observing the stars for my new article, and noticed something feathered, sitting on the highest peak of the Canterlot mountain.”

“With such telescope like you have? I’d have seen the flea on the stray dog, beg your pardon.” – harrumphed Nick.

“I appreciate the good humor, Nick, but this is rather serious. It was cloudy, so I couldn’t have made it clear, but one thing was pretty obvious – this… thing was bigger than any Pegasus I know of.”

“And what about Roid Rage?” – Hawkri shuddered at the memory of bulging eyes and overworked musculature, complete with underdeveloped, tiny wings. He said so – and regretted it, seeing the look on Twilight’s face. However, he mused further, this “midget wings” were good enough to lift that hulk in the air, which was really strange itself.

“Yeah, sorry, that was stupid. But still, what’s rustling my jimmies is the fact that the Hegemony sent a spy? A Griffin, for Gods’ sake?”

“Maybe.”

“Twilight, listen to yourself. What Griffin has the eyesight sharp enough to see that far and through the clouds? If I am not mistaken, Canterlot is a good eight hours of train ride, even taken the express one and a straight way?”

“I don’t know…” – the scholar pony’s ears drooped down in defeat. – “What I want to say is that you shall take care. We do not know who is digging at us, and we shall apply as much security as we can.”

“Well, tell me about it…” – Hawkri smirked nastily, rolling his shoulders and feeling the satisfying cracks.

***

Hearts Warming Eve was at full blossom – the fireplace hummed loudly, the meal was done with and all the ponies – including Cheerilee – sat in front of the bonfire, listening to the story of the first Hearts Warming Eve in the history of Equestria, when Commander Hurricane of Pegasi, Chancellor Puddinghead of Earth Tribe and Princess Platinum of the Unicorns all claimed the land of Equestria the home of their tribes – collaborating and living in pure peace together.

Hawkri, who was chosen by the quorum to narrate the history, put his everything into it. His voice rocketed upwards at the tense moments and fell down dramatically when the things turned out grim; he reenacted the harsh, raspy voice of Commander Hurricane, the old army brat, and the doubtful, meek speech of Private Pansy, was being reasonable as Clover the Clever and Smart Cookie, he put on the bubbly, foolish demeanor of Chancellor Puddinghead and arrogant, snobby tone of Princess Platinum. The further the story was getting, the more he felt that he was engaged into it, the more he felt his adherence to it – and the shining foals’ eyes were his best reward.

Once he finished reading the story and closed the book, silence hang for a moment – and everypony in the room just burst out applauding.

“You’re a natural narrator, Nick. I give you an “A-plus” in Stage Play.” – giggled the slightly inebriated Cheerilee, winking at our hero.

“Yes, it was indeed awesome!” – Derpy agreed, beaming at Hawkri. – “The truly Hearts Warming Eve it is, right, girls?”

Foals all nodded their approval vigorously, filling Nick with the filling of pure joy.

However, the counter in the darkest and most secluded corner of his mind ticked grimly: don’t forget! Don’t forget! Don’t forget…

It was dark now, and only the glowing embers in the fireplace lit the living room. Still, there was no real light – it was pure undissolved darkness in here, but no one seemed to mind – not Hawkri. He was laying on the couch with a bottle of Berry’s finest vine, trying to get totally wasted – and never he could have achieved that. The further this was getting, the more complicated shit turned out to be. Alcohol was slowly creeping through his blood to his brain, making the ceiling swirl a bit and ripple, like a circles on the water.

“Вот что мне делать-то?” – he asked out loud, taking another tall drink from the bottle and sitting down on the couch. – “Что, блядь, мне делать-то? Как поступить, чего выкинуть?” – Of course, walls were silent, much to his irritation. So, cursing and blurting something purely unintelligible, drunk man grabbed another bottle of vine and went to his room, stumbling at every step and pending all over the place. However, his stride soon went back to normal, and he grabbed the leather-bound book from the nightstand with grim clarity in his brain.

A momentary hesitation – and he went downstairs, throwing the bottle and the book into his bag. Jumping into the shoes and dressing was a momentary issue, and the door thump behind his back greeted Nick to the chilly night.

After the long mindless stalking all around the Ponyville, he ran into the small lakeside park, which was to his drunken mind the best place to settle and drink and read. Plopping down on the bench and making himself comfortable, lighting another cigarette from his drainless stock, Nick produced a bottle and the book. The darn book that planted seeds of hesitation in his mind, and that was the only way to see if there was anything he needed to know of.

Taking a long sip, he opened the book where he had previously bookmarked it and began reading.

It was a long dialogue between the author and some other man, where the first was convincing the latter that any information should first be doubted - while his opponent was arguing that if there is a position he can agree to, he would just accept it.

The whole dialogue took about ten spreads, and the sly, inquisitor-like arguments of the author finally made the opponent admit that he was right. The whole argument was like a strange river – that gave the beginning to many other rivulets and creeks, which in the end joined with the original stream, no matter how long or how wide did they spread.

“Бля, умный же однако я тип…” – grinned Hawkri, finishing off the vine and already feeling heavy to his eyes. It was rather freezing outside, and the numbing cold was already creeping under Nick’s jeans – but he never minded.

“Ну в пизду его все…” – the out-cold drunk Hawkri stirred his way back to his feet, balancing on his feet and trying to stop the earth under his feet from collapsing and going all merry-go-round-ish on him. Lighting another cigarette and spitting the bitter gooey saliva – he nearly poisoned himself with nicotine; that was the pretty obvious sign – he grinned foolishly to the empty space above the lake.

“Shift!” – and, obedient to his words, the view of the world changed. The white, blank landscape now turned into the abstract picture, where all the known and unknown colors and hues mingled together, dissipated one into another and flown all around, enveloping Hawkri in their blissful rainbow.

“Gheeeee~” – the sound of idiotic glee escaped our hero’s mouth, and the sound itself had the taste and the smell – it smelled like the alcohol fume and tasted the same, so Hawkri just shrugged that off and waved a hand, beholding the effect in the Ethereal.

Soon, however, the pent up feelings in him broke the ice shell of self control and erupted, like a volcano, in a sheer, pure, uncontrollable rage.

“FUCK!! FUCK!! FUCK!! FUCK!! FUCK!!!” – With each yell Hawkri was sending the enormous amounts of psychokinetic energy into the ice-sheltered lake. His fingers, bent into the complicated Sign, were disobeying the brain and magic kept flowing and flowing, provoking cascades of water to erupt like volcanic magma jets, freezing immediately into the dubious statuesque constructs. The exceeding pressure was bending the trees low, as if there was a hurricane, and the amounts of chaos were simply unimaginable.

“What do I have to do?..” – whispered our hero, feeling the liquid streaming down his cheek and freezing momentarily. The ethereal landscape around was just freaking out, turning from the slow and peaceful cycle of changes into bizarre and ominous one; however, before something terrible could’ve happen, Hawkri shook his head and shifted back to his own eyes. The next surge of magic, enough to smash the stone wall to pieces, only launched the bottle towards the ice sculpture in the middle of the lake. The leftover vine tinted the clear ice with carmine red, giving the whole construct a grim and threatening feature.

“This cannot be happening…” – murmured our hero, astonished with the side he beheld. He was feeling like the one who had experience the amok – as if the curtain fell, and he had seen the chaos he brought.

Unable to believe his own eyes, he dropped to his knees, boring hands deep into the snow and clawing into it; his breath as ragged gasps, his eyes brimmed with red and he was sweating bullets – at the temperature of minus thirty Celsius.

The counter stopped ticking. Alcohol and the unexpected outrage complete with the redemption washed it out, and, when the stars on the sky began to go dim, Hawki raised from his kneeled posture, heading back home in a single-eyed gait.

Now he had known what to do.

***

Two weeks passed rather quickly. Sunny and Dinky both went to school after the winter break, Derpy was getting better and Hawkri simply kept his head low. He had learnt his lesson, and had no intention to repeat that dubious pleasure.

He was just about to leave the library, when the doorbell rang. Sighing, he went down with a smile to see Cherry Garden, the artist pony that lived almost next door.

“Hidy ho, neighbor – what can I do for you?” – Our hero smiled to the newcomer, taking his position behind the counter.

“Ugh, yes, hello. I need a dream-book. A couple of them, to compare.” – Cherry glanced around, as if expecting to see somepony or someone else – but the library was totally devoid of any life rather than Hawkri and Owloviscious. But the wise bird was sleeping soundly up on the first floor, while Hawkri was already scanning the shelves.

“Yes, here it is. One is the “Night Visions And The Messages Of Them”, and here’s also “Dreams And Dreamscape”, edited by Princess Luna herself.” – he handed both books to the mare, who quickly filled the forms and waited until Hawkri did the same.

“Good luck in your research, Cherry.” – The mare just nodded shortly and left in a brisk pace.

“Looks like she’s got more important stuff to do, ain’t she?” – smirked Hawkri, arranging the blanks and checking the interior for any odds. Satisfied with the result, he locked the doors and left, whistling a cheerful tune.

His path was squirming, like a snake, which basically meant that he had to do some stops. First thing on his list was the bookstore, since the new Daring Do novel was already issued and the autograph session was held. So, he thought, Sunny and Dinky would appreciate the present. So he grabbed two copies of the book, paid the price and turned to the table where the autograph session was held – and what he had seen made his jaw drop to the floor.

There was a great queue, which emerged in the matter of seconds – while he was paying for the books! What in the name of all the Hell’s princes?!

Grunting, Hawkri scanned the crowd of ponies. Of course, there was Rainbow Dash, bouncing on the place like an excited filly, which was pretty strange to see, granted that she was the “coolest mare in all of Equestria after Daring Do”. Oh, man, this was supposed to be a long way – through thorns to the stars, they say.

After a momentary hesitation, Hawkri experienced the feeling of a light bulb above his head. Grinning slyly and feeling the twitch of his amulet, he built a complicated Sign with his fingers and pushed both his hands down, as if forcing down some piston.

In the best situation, the charm was supposed to grant him some kind of illusive cloak that was designed to help him evade the blows. But instead he just got a decent electric shock. Once he was done throbbing like a moron and stuttering the curses through gritted teeth, our hero scowled and puffed out his mandible, putting on the look of some stubborn caveman. Shifting his eyes to the “wrack-o-chaos” mode, he repeated his exercise. This time this worked. He made his way, invisible, through the thick crowd of ponies in wait and emerged right before Rainbow Dash, who was too overjoyed to look around. Dispelling the “W-o-C”, he just popped out to existence right in front of the desk, leaving Dash behind, much to her wrath and dismay.

“Whom is this book to?” – asked Daring Do, the adventurer, grabbing the quill.

“This one is for Sunrise Glitter, and this is for Dinky Doo.” – pointed out Raven Wing with a charming smile. The tired adventurer quickly signed the books and Hawkri, hiding the books into his bag, mentally checked out one point in his checklist.

Next stop was the department store, where he needed some resupply of food. Of course Derpy, who was bored by just sitting back and doing nothing was a great help at household, but even the best chef cannot just make something out of thin air. So Hawkri hightailed to the store, hoping to complete all of his errands before fillies would come home from school – and the choir was also taking a good deal of time, letting our hero some spare time – but still, he had always considered that a healthy filly is a happy filly, and if you’ll feed the child with junk food, nothing good will occur.

Zipping around the store, Hawkri met Applejack and Big Macintosh at the “Garden and home” aisle. After a quick exchange with the greetings AJ asked our hero to drop by Sweet Apple Acres to discuss something. Nick nodded, mentally adding one more point to his checklist.

Striding past the “Veterinary and pet care” aisle he waved hello to Fluttershy, who was seemingly resupplying on animal food. The timid Pegasus did not hid behind her mane, but returned the greeting, which was already a good sign. Nevertheless, Hawkri felt a sharp sting of regret – he remembered of all the episodes of his simply foul attitude towards the Element of Kindness.

Carrying a bag of purchased goods, our hero lit a cigarette and checked again with what was left for him. It looked like this was the only thing left – he needed to drop by Rarity’s boutique and claim his order…

***A week earlier***

That morning our hero, waking up early, as usual, found himself in a rather inconvenient situation. His pants were nearly falling apart, and he was in no position to deal with it. So, armed with a needle and pulling the glasses to the top of his head, he began patching them up. The whole process took the better part of the morning, and now his garment resembled a flurry of Technicolor patches and rough seams, which basically was not that bad – disappointing, rather. He looked like a jester to himself, and was in no position to deal with it, granted that the disguise spell never let the common ponies see his ‘true’ self.

So, he went to the only pony who could help him with the issue – Rarity. It took a lot of mangrit and willpower to withstand the incoming torrent of fabulous ideas and to convince the fashionista that all he had needed was a simple plain pants. No gems, no embroidery – just jeans.

After a couple hours spent in arguments and sketching the patterns, Rarity sighed in defeat and nodded her agreement, levitating the measuring tape and making her measures. Unfortunately, she had to stare back at the mirror all the time for the sake of measuring exactly Hawkri, not Raven Wing, so it took quite a time.

Feeling like being presented to the whole assortment of the Seven Circles of Hell, Hawkri finally breathed a release and waved goodbye to Rarity, dashing away from the boutique as fast as his legs could get him – and a little more.

***

“Rarity, I’m here!” – called out our hero, cautiously stepping into the main parlor of the boutique. He had heard the muffled sound of sewing machine, which meant that miss Rarity Belle was currently too engaged in her work to condescend to mundane needs. Using that rare virtue of silence, Nick strode around the boutique, gazing in awe at the ensembles on display. Glittering gems and flowing silks made his head feel funny, and Nick backtracked a bit, shaking off his amusement. This was a confession: he was a down-to-earth kind of guy, not a grand society type. And he was okay with that.

“Rarity!” – he called out again, hearing that the machine clutter muted.

“Coming!” – came the response, and very soon the fashionista unicorn gracefully trotted down the stairs, looking at Hawkri atop her working glasses.

“Ah, Hawkri, what a pleasure to meet you today…” – she drawled, rolling her eyes and pressing a forehoof against her head. The hint behind the greeting was “You have committed a crime against the fashion! And there be no mercy!”

“Erm, hello?” – Nick waved at her sheepishly; he felt like the third-grader in front of the strict principal.

“Your order is done.” – the seamstress informed the man, huffing her disapproval with his choice of garments. She trotted off to the stand in the farther corner of the boutique and rummaged through the hangers, pausing sometimes for a brief second to inspect the tag. – “Here it is. The fitting rooms are all there.” – the white unicorn motioned the direction with her hoof, levitating the neatly folded and ironed garment to Hawkri.

“Thanks, Rarity, I’ll be right back.”

Jeans fitted like a glove: neatly and a bit baggy, the way Hawkri loved it. Spinning in front of the mirror, he noticed a small thing: the stubborn Rarity made some embroidery on the pockets. Oh well, it seemed nice and matched the ensemble, though, so let it be.

“Rarity, this is wonderful.” – claimed Nick, clambering out of the alcove and tugging his new pants up a bit. It looked as if the Raven Wing was tugging at the lap of his newly seamed vest.

“Indeed, it looks good on you, I have to admit.” – sighed the seamstress, levitating a mirror to herself and trotting around Hawkri to see how well the fruit of her work sit. – “Nice flank you have there.”

Hawkri felt the blush rush to his face and shielded his butt with his hands, stuttering the meek “Thanks~”. The awkward situation required discarding, and Hawkri could do no better than ask:

“How much do I owe you, Rarity?”

The unicorn pony seemed shocked – as if he had just been spitting out profanities at all that she held dear.

“You owe me nothing! This is for the best!” – Rarity’s eyes began to well up with tears, and this time it was not all drama queen stuff.

Hawkri, you’re such a dimwit.

Once the boutique business was sorted out and wild-eyed Hawkri rocketed outside, new jeans folded neatly in the bag, it was the time to go home. Girls were about to come home from school, and he was going to be ready for it.

The door creaked on its hinges, adding one more point to Nick’s mental checklist: oil the hinges. Derpy, who was already feeling good enough to walk, stepped to the hall with a smile:

“Hey, look who’s back home. How’s it been?”

“You’ll laugh. I’ve tricked Rainbow at the autograph session, met good half of Ponyville at the store and almost got my brain blasted at Rarity’s. This is the quick conclusion.” – deadpanned Hawkri, while zipping across the kitchen and making a dozen of actions at once: unpacking the food, setting out the kitchen appliances, starting a fire and so on, and so on. Derpy sat on her haunches on the threshold, admiring the view of a small grey blizzard, ravaging across the room. She knew that when Hawkri was acting like this it was dangerous to mess with him – too much velocity was in his actions, and his limbs were just a bit too long to approach him safely.

“Uh, yes, I totally forgot – we need more firewood.” – Ditzy piped up.

“Okay then…” – our hero turned the information around for a second, calculating the possibilities. It looked like the stock they had was enough not for long – so he had to take a hatchet and take off to the forest to get some more. Duh.

“Okay, I’ll get to it while it’s not too dark here. Can you take care of the dinner?” – rummaging through the tools locker, Hawkri tested the blade of the hatchet with his finger and was satisfied with the result.

“Sure! I see you’ve got some blueberry. Gotta be muffins today…” – Derpy smirked coyly, winking knowingly.

Gods! The wonderful rich scent of fresh-baked pastry erupted in the mind of our hero, who had a soft spot for this particular kind of pastry.

“You are such a tease. You know that?” – already harnessing himself in the sledge, snided Hawkri.

“That would be a good stimulus, huh? Take care.” – waved Derpy, fastening the apron.

***

The rhythmic thumping of steel against the tree trunk resonated deeply under the forest canopy, silencing all the other sounds – the rhythmic staccato of woodpeckers, foxes’ yaffing and the shuffle of the branches in the wind. It was still winter, and earth was seemingly glazed with snow, reflecting the last rays of Sun, coloring the white blanket on the roofs of Ponyville in deep, rich hues of red. Wiping the sweat off his brow and lighting another cigarette, Hawkri looked at the fruits of his labor: the sledge were almost full of firewood, which would be a good spare. But this here last pine was not the one to give up that easily – even though the axe had already taken out half the girth of its trunk, it stood proud and tall, as if saying “Fuq u, I am so way older then you and no whelp like yourself will bring me down”. Hawkri respected such position, but he was one determined guy, and, throwing the cigarette butt away, he swung his axe for the last time, complete with a low, growling war cry – and the terrific, bone-shattering blow finally reached the target. Moaning and seemingly sighing in defeat the pine crushed to the earth, filling our hero with the feeling of long-deserved triumph.

Cutting the tree to pieces and getting rid of the branches never took too long, and Nick was intended to get back home before the first stars would appear – back to the blazing fireplace, warm cider and hot food, back to Sunny’s shining eyes and jingly voice. So, harrumphing and groaning, he dragged the heavy-laden sledge down to his place, humming some march-like song.

All this sorted out, our hero locked the firewood shed and, stomping the snow off his boots, entered the house. The scents of the food wafted into his nose, and his stomach grumbled in an irritated way, so he made it quick with the undressing.

Once he was out of the bathroom, drying hands with a towel, he had seen Sunny walking to him with a disappointment on her muzzle.

“Hey, what’s wrong, little Grand Master?” – smiled Hawkri, tossing the towel to the hamper and crouching to be closer to his “daughter”.

“Daddy, am I special?” – she asked with a tears in her voice.

“Of course you are, my little Sunshine. And why would you ask?”

“Today at school the older fillies, Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, picked at me. They said I was a blankflank, and that I am not special without a cutie mark…” – Sunny’s voice trembled on the verge of crying, and Hawkri embraced the filly, dragging her gingerly closer to himself:

“Now, now, Sunny… It’s just some arrogant fillies, who think they’re better than anyone else if they have a cutie mark. And listen to me now…” – our hero gingerly lifted the filly’s head, putting two fingers under her chin. – “Having a tiara-like cutie mark means what? That you’re obliged to wear a tiara for yer whole life? Or that you have a taste for jewellery? Sound ridiculous to me! Or a silver spoon? The talent of being a spoiled child? Don’t make me laugh!”

Sunny’s face brightened up a bit: “And me, daddy? What’s my talent?”

“Time will tell, my dear child. For me, you are the most special filly of all. You are strong, beautiful, smart and what’s more important – you excel them all in nobility. That’s what I have for you to know.” – Nick planted a small kiss at the filly’s forehead, hugging her gently. Sunny clutched closer to her step-father, returning the embrace:

“Thank you, daddy. You’re the best. Thank you.”

Hawkri smiled to his step-daughter, waving her off:

“Now go, Sunny. Ditzy has it all set and hot, so you’d better eat and then you’ll tell us what interesting was there today.”

“Okay, daddy!” – And a happy foal skipped away to wash her hooves, while Hawkri shuddered at the sudden gust of cold wind. His heart felt cold, and his ears were filled with the voice of Green Fields:

“Thank you, Nick Hawkri. You have proved yourself to be a good man, despite all odds.”

Dead words, transmitted on the dead frequency – but he wasn’t hearing things. It was just too good to accept that as a reason.

***

Saturday morning, marking the first day of the weekend, so needed, greeted Nick with a terrible headache and moaning bones. Stirring on the couch, he grumbled and opened eyes, blindly reaching for his glasses.

“Если бы это было похмелье…” – after this small lament our hero raised his sorry carcass, stretching a bit and feeling, how the blood rushed to his limbs, preparing him for the coming day. The morning rituals of washing-shaving-et cetera didn’t took too long, and Nick was thinking of paying attention to the last, but not least part of it – cup of coffee, first, sweetest cigarette and a good read to cover it up.

Alas, the yesterday’s magic practice at Twilight’s cellar effectively prevented him from doing so – at least, the caffeine and nicotine part. The first sip of coffee along with the first, genuine, best ever drag made him cough and spit, swear and grumble. It was not only the unusually bitter taste, tangling at his mouth – but the idea itself of letting something that vile into his organism.

“Stupid lousy goddamn witchcraft…” – grumbled Nick, pulling a bottle of milk from the icebox and pouring some into his coffee, mercilessly wasting the rich scent and taste, trying to trick his oversensitive taste buds.

It worked – partially. The noble drink, even spoiled with the milk, felt like raw tar, poured into his resisting stomach. Looked like today no indulgence to bad habits, sir Nick, he snided at himself with a sigh. However, no one depraved him of the good read, so, taking the pitcher of a cider, he landed at the armchair, opening the Liber Colloquii where he left it.

The reading was, lest to say, not really pleasant – the nagging sense of messing with his own future was there to stay, but Hawkri just waved it off. I’ll answer for the conclusions, and now I simply must read it from cover to cover, once it is now at my possession, he concluded. That was some twisted logic, but that was just Hawkri.

Leaving his place for a quick visit to the restroom, he stole a glance at the mirror. Good gracious, this needs a haircut. The tangled, messy locks looked like a crow’s nest, safe for the decent length of his coiffure – this could not last. After struggling with the stubborn hairbrush and styling the whole mess into a simple ponytail, Hawkri sat down and began thinking.

He could use his knife and do himself a makeshift haircut – but better then that he could just have his head shaved. This was certainly not an option, since his own look somehow transferred to the look of Raven Wing. And the skinhead version of Raven Wing would rather not look nice, he presumed.

So, assessing all the options available, our hero decided to make it the easiest way: visit the barber’s shop. And pay it a little bit more, if need be – to ensure the mutual benefit of the silence.

“Just as planned…” – he smirked, linking the tips of his fingers together and slightly bending his shoulders down. However, the moment of joyous triumph was not long – the burnt arms reminded of themselves, as Hawkri was hissing and jumping to relieve the pain, before he came with the wonderful idea to put both limbs into the snow.

Prickly crystals sent small pulses of pain through the nerves, but with their primary objective they’ve dealt well – Hawkri stopped skipping around like a moron and breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at the memories of the last day…

***

“Lift your hands a bit! Just like that… Yes, like this.” – nodded Twilight, checking with the weighty volume.

“Twilight, can you explain once again – what is this supposed to do? The Magic, 101, dummies edition?” – Carefully inquired Nick, feeling a bit awkward.

“Sure. Now, what you’re going to learn is an adapted somatic processing of the magic shielding spell.” – Seeing the hesitation in Hawkri’s eyes, Twilight sighed and explained it even easier:

“Since you are lacking a horn, I have to adapt the spells for your limbs. But the principle is the same – you focus your mind, let the mana flow and shape it.”

“The way I do with fire?”

“Quite like so, yes, but that is another thing. Pyrokinesis, amongst other, is also fueled with the emotions – the strong ones. Be it anger, sorrow or love – they all contribute. When you’re calm and relaxed, can you cast a fireball?”

“Yes.” – smiled Hawkri, demonstrating his skills.

The sphere of flame at the size of a foot ball danced above his open hand, shrinking and inflating, as if pulsing.

“It is… impressive.” – admitted Twilight, dispelling the fireball. – “But what is the most peaceful use of the pyrokinesis?”

“Well, I use it for starting the fire in the fireplace and in the stove… also to light a cigarette…” - Hawkri began to bend fingers in thought.

“Okay, we’re off topic. Now, what I want you to do is to practice this charm and then we’ll test it.” – Twilight emerged the shielding dome of indigo light above them, leaving some room between herself and her student. This all felt like some magical sparring – and Hawkri was in no position to lose it. If he’d lose – his remnants would fit into the matchbox. With plenty of room left. So he exhaled, concentrated and crossed his forearms in front of his chest, as Twilight told him to. The familiar buzzing and twitching of the amulet told him, that the process started, and Twilight nodded here approval.

“Very good. Watch the mana flow – or you’ll exhaust yourself too early!”

Easier said, than done, Miss Smartypants – I don’t even have the idea of what ‘mana’ is, snickered Hawkri to himself. Well, he did, in theory, but there was no way for him to keep track on it, as well as to control its flow.

All he felt is the torrent of raw magical energy, coursing up and down through his forearms, tickling the elbow joints and sending electrical joints inside the wrists.

“Now hold this position! I am going to attack you with the psychokinetic charm, similar to your own!” – warned Twilight, flaring up her horn.

Hawkri got set and ready, digging his feet into the floor. Ready-set-G…

The taut force pushed its way through him, though the anti-magic charm did its work – he was not smashed into the wall, rather just plopped to his butt, hissing and rubbing the offended part.

“First time is no time! Except, you did better, then I thought. You actually absorbed the energy, rather than deflecting it. This is interesting. But well done!” – Twilight smiled gently, helping our hero up with her telekinesis.

“Thanks, professor. So, we have a training to do, right? What’s next?”

Something manic blinked in Twilight’s eyes.

“Your favourite.”

“Don’t say that…” – colors drained from Hawkri’s face, and his pony persona drooped his ears in utter terror.

“Fireballs.”

***

So, better late, then never – Hawkri had finally learnt to use the shield charm, effectively deflecting the offensive spells and using the illusion charm to dodge the physical attacks, which were meant as the hurling of various pretty heavy objects at him.

After all, burnt arms were not so much of a charge for this kind of knowledge. What was left is practice. And, bandaging the limbs with some medical bandages he had found, Hawkri considered that this was not a bad idea, really. But the need to have a haircut gone nowhere. So he packed his gear and trotted off to the nearest barber’s shop.

***Meanwhile, back at the house number 15, Meadow Lane***

Sunrise Glitter woke up late. It was Saturday, and she could afford herself some relaxation. Opening her eyes and smiling to the rays of the winter sun, filtering through the closed curtains, she stretched with a sweet, deep yawn. After yawning a couple of times more, she adjusted the pillow and levitated the new Daring Do book from the nightstand – the one with the autograph. She was jumping with joy, squealing like a foal, when Nick, coyly smiling, presented them – her and Dinky – the copies of the book, with the hoofwritten autograph of A.K. Yearling, the Daring Do herself! This book was the greatest treasure, and it was even more fun that Nick – her daddy – pulled the leg of Rainbow Dash, the fastest flyer and the biggest fan of Daring and got the autographs BEFORE she did. Sunny laughed her tail off when she heard that, together with the Doo sisters.

The new, long-expected novel amused here. There was everything – intricate plot, action, adventure, complicated riddles and deadly traps, and of course, the malevolent Ahuizotle, the arch nemesis of Daring! This time they’ve been struggling for the Feather of Quetzalcoatl, the mythic godlike creature – presumably the progenitor of Pegasi tribe, speculated Sunny – the feathered snakepony, who was capable of controlling the weather and therefore was worshipped.

The urge to go downstairs caught Sunny right in the middle of the especially amazing moment – when Daring Do was crawling her way through the lost and forgotten pyramid city deep underground, hiding from the Ahuizotle’s minion felines. She needed to reach the Feather first, unless she wanted the bad guy get it and claim his control over the world – presumably, again. So, she left the book after the short hesitation and made a beeline for her needs.

After all done, the filly was already anticipating the return under the warm blanket to accompany Daring in her quest, when something slithered its way to her attention. It was the leather-bound book, laying on the couch, with gilded runes and a strange snakelike symbol, embossed on the cover. It was attracting the filly, like a magnet attracts the nail, all her attention was now transfixed to it.

Carefully approaching the tome, Sunny poked it with her hoof. Nothing happened – the book remained as inert, as it should have been, and Sunny sighed a release. It was just a book, and it is most possible that Nick left it here – he was sleeping on the couch since offering Derpy his bedroom – such a gentlecolt he is, thought Sunny with a hint of pride for her step-father.

However, the book still was the center of her Universe now. She was hearing the almost inaudible, on the verge of audacity – its whisper. It came in some unknown, dark language – but it sounded so tempting. So… irresistible. Paralyzing the will and dominating the mind. So, the filly took the book and opened it.

For the first seconds she tried to comprehend the strange, angular signs on the pages – but then they began shifting, molding into something… new. Not the lines of text, but the image…

The last thing Sunrise Glitter remembered was the terrible pressure inside her head – she cried out, her horn blazing with immense power – and then the conscious mind mercifully left the poor filly.

House number fifteen on the Meadow Lane was empty – Doo sisters went to the hospital, Hawkri was making his hair, so nobody had witnessed the tornado of out-of-this-world powers, ravaging the insides of the house.

***

Someone may claim that he or she has no trust in higher powers – the world is ruled by the laws of logic, or physics, of any other matter – but here even the most stubborn and perseverant atheist would put his own beliefs to the doubt.

In the light of the day, setting her pace to the brisk canter, Cheerilee was coming back home for something she had totally forgotten – her hallmark bathrobe, because no trip to sauna with her old friends would be good enough without it.

She was pretty much immersed in her thoughts, so she had never spotted the strange transparency of the ground floor of Sunny’s house. It looked somewhat hazy, appearing boldly and then seemingly dissipating into nothingness in the matter of seconds, and the windows were bright with the flashes of outsider light.

Only Gods know, what could have happen, if the fallen ceramic statuette would not have attracted Cheerilee’s attention. Frowning a bit, she averted her gaze to find out the source of this tragic downfall – and froze in her tracks, befuddled with the sight present to her eyes.

All the bathrobes were instantly forgotten – and, bucking the door open (the door screeched protesting and flew off its hinges), Cheerilee galloped as fast as she could to the Sunny’s house. She had no idea, what on the Earth was going on, but she knew that Sunny’s in danger.

She wasted no time fiddling with the gate, so she just jumped over the fence, her muscles almost ripping apart with the tension. There it is – the front door!

Gaining more speed, Cheerilee planted an earth-shaking slam to it, using all the speed and velocity she had accumulated, complete with her inherent Earth tribe strength. She was expecting to hear the crack of splintering wood, but her heart chilled as she understood that this blow came wasted: the house was disappearing all again.

Despair took the best of her, and Cherilee slammed at the door with her whole body, ramming against it with wild fervor. The only thought dominated her mind: whatever there is, she should get Sunny out of here.

Finally the heavy door subsided to the feverous onslaught of the despaired mare, and the locks, letting out the last sigh of defeat, flew inside the house, letting the door open wide. Cheerilee rushed in like a maroon blizzard, never minding the splinters and cuts, and scanned around for the filly. There she was – floating inches above the floor, horn flaring with immense energies, and the whole tiny frame radiating an ominous, unholy light, that shed no shadows – instead, it was showing some terrible, warped silhouettes, shifting permanently from form to form.

“Sunny!!” – Cheerilee tried to call her, but she never managed to outcry the howling and bellowing whirlwind, that was now the house. She tried again, on top of her lungs – and again of no avail.

The interior of the house kept changing by the minute – she had seen the totally strange places, crowded with people – they were fighting, arguing or just having meals in restaurants; the familiar house interior emerged from this delusion and disappearing all again, showing the astonished mare new and new episodes.

After beholding a scene of some terrible fight, where armored humans charged at each other, wielding swords, axes and shields, yelling their war cries and clashing at each other like a tide wave against the rock – she had noticed Hawkri’s face in the thick of fight – lost his helmet, red-eyed, he was pummeling his opponent with the rim of his shield, sending him down beaten and unconscious before planting a bone-shattering sword blow at the helmet of another foe, wielding the broad axe – Cheerilee finally managed to shake off the amusement and tried to reach for Sunny. This, hovewer, proved to be truly a challenge – her hooves felt like she was stuck in a bog, and every step was a true exertion.

Inch by inch, pace by pace, the mare finally made it to the foal, breath coming in ragged huffs, blood trickling from her wounds and her eyes transfixed to the tiny figure that was the center of this whole mayhem – and with the single desperate leap, which took all the strength she had left, she scooped Sunny in her forelegs before crash landing to the floor.

Once her body collided with the floor, the radiance subsided immediately, and the house restored its natural look.

“It’s okay, Sunny, dear… Cheerilee is here…” – she whispered to the sobbing foal, cradling her in her hooves and burying her muzzle in the satin-soft mane of a filly, Cheerilee closed her eyes in relief.

“Mommy is here…” – she whispered with her lips only.

***

“Looks just dandy, thanks, Clean Cut.” – Hawkri glanced at his new haircut, positively pleased with the outcome. Clean Cut, the aging unicorn stallion, nodded and smiled:

“Mighty glad ye’r enjoyin’ my work, chap.” – he put the scissors to the drawer and undid the laces of the apron for Hawkri.

“Now, we have a deal, right?” – a weighty bits pouch changed owners, and Clean Cut smiled knowingly:

“Sure as sugar, mate. I’ll be as silent as the ole good grave.”

“Good. Well then, good luck!”

“Come again!” – with a short nod, Hawkri left the barber shop, inhaling the crispy air deeply. The day was great – the sunshine turned the snow in the cover of diamonds, and it looked like the winter had decided to object its namesake as the ‘dead season’ – birds chirped cheerfully, and even the bare trees looked like covered in shiny diamond cloth.

Licking involuntarily, our hero decided that this wouldn’t hurt to visit Sugarcube Corner and get a small treat for his “herd”, as he was humoring to himself. Said meant done, and in no time Nick was already ascending the steps of bakery, puffing a small cloud of smoke before throwing the half-finished cigarette away. The nasty feeling from yesterday’s magical workout was there to stay, so Hawkri decided not to push his luck too far and rather not to find out how bad could it turn out.

Leaving the bakery with a box of finest éclairs and a bit disheveled from the small talk with Pinkie, who apparently was in charge of the whole establishment for a while, Nick smiled and strode back home, humming a humorous tune:

“Once the day traded for the night –

I’ve caught an owl and gave a stump a good smite!

And the same for smiting an owl with a stump or a stump with an owl –

Feathers fly all over and I howl!! Woo-hoo-hoo~!”

This could’ve last long, but once our hero planted his foot at the Meadow Lane, he felt something wrong – his guts told him that some serious shit hit the fan. And hoping that this would turn out as a false alarm, he sped up his pace – first to the quick jog, then to the full-blown head-first sprint.

This was not false alert, however – the door seemed like it was rammed through, parts of the lock laying scattered all around and the mechanism itself was almost ripped off from the body of the door. But what was even worse – there was blood all over the place. The crimson path led him to the living room. Hawkri bared his teeth, feeling that the hair on the back of his neck stood on their ends, letting out a low growl.

Necking over the corner, he sniffed something familiar. The scent of petunias and daffodils… Cheerilee’s perfume!

Without the moment’s hesitation, Nick leapt inside, like a giant cat from the ambush, landing right in front of Cheerilee.

“Cheerilee?!”

“Nick?!”

“What…”

“Surge.” – the short word felt like a whiplash. Hawkri stumbled backwards, eyes wide as saucers:

“Tell that again?..”

“Sunny have surged! It… it was…” – unable to hold the shock back for any longer, Cheerilee burst into tears, still hugging Sunrise close to her.

Now it was Hawkri’s turn to embrace both the mare and the filly: “Now, now, Cheers. I am here… How’s Sunny?”

“Look like she blacked out… Hawkri, I was so frightened…”

“Shhh, easy…” – Nick said, comforting the mare. – “Tell me, how did this happened?”

The whole story took about fifteen minutes, and the further it went, the more grim Hawkri’s face grew.

“Охуительно.” – he concluded shortly, lighting a cigarette absentmindedly.

“What do we do now?”

“I know only one mare that could help us. Get set, you’re coming with me…” – Hawkri shuffled through the hamper, looking for his sweater, which Romena knitted for him as a Hearts Warming present. – “Put it on, the weather is pretty cold, while I’ll get a blanket for Sunny. We’re going to Twilight’s place, and you’ll repeat your story. Got that?”

“Sure…” – Cheerilee’s face was wet with tears, but the determined look in her eyes proved her to be the very dependable and strong mare. Despite his own will, Hawkri admired her view for a moment: slender frame, strong legs, silky curls and those wonderful eyes…

“All set?” – he asked, wrapping Sunny warm in the blanket and cradling the filly securely in his arms.

“Let’s go.”

***

Bang-bang-bang!!

“Twilight! Twilight goddamnit Sparkle!! Open the cornsarn door!!” – Hawkri’s fist pummeled hard against the locked library door, making the hinges screech in protest and the glass in the windows tremble with the volume of his voice.

“Hawkri…” – Cheerilee tried to reason him, but of no avail – she would not even try to outmatch him at yelling. The only pony who possibly could give it a try was Princess Luna and her RCV, full throttle.

“TWILIGHT!!!!” – the banging intensified, since the sounds of bolts being redrawn were heard and the sleepy mare stepped out, yawning:

“Raven Wing?.. What has gotten into you to…”

“Sunny has surged.” – those words seemed to wipe any signs of tiredness and sleep from Twilight, who stared at Hawkri’s stone face and then to Cheerilee. After a couple of seconds, spent for the sake of an eye duel, the lavender mare stepped aside with a short “Come”.

While Cheerilee was telling Twilight the story of Sunny’s surge and Hawkri was pacing nervously across the room, Twilight, concentrated and gloomy, activated the diagnostic spell on Sunny. The flare of her horn flashed and subsided, turning into a faded glow, enveloping the tiny body in the indigo aura, collecting information on her stance.

“How’s she?” – snapped Hawkri.

“Fine. She just used way too much mana. But she will restore eventually. She’s a strong filly.” – Twilight wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead, matting her fur and leaving a distinctive line. – “Cheerilee, have you seen anything strange there? Something? Anything… curious?”

The schoolpony immersed in her thoughts. Hawkri could have swear he had just seen the events replaying in her eyes. Minutes ticked away…

“No. Nothing.” – Cherilee shrugged off, drooping her ears.

Twilight grumbled, pacing around the room together with Hawkri:

“This got to be something! This kind of surges would not just appear! There has to be some stimulus…”

“Stimulus…” – mused our hero to himself. Something tickled at the back of his mind, and he tried hard to catch that elusive bastard.

“Stimulus…” – the blurry image emerged atop of his associative marsh – the raven, sitting on the shoulder of a man, whose face was cloaked.

“Stimulus…” – Hawkri gritted his teeth, feeling that he was already close. However, the clopping of Twilight’s hooves against the floor distracted him greatly.

“Twilight, please, sit for a moment.”

“What?”

“I said SIT FOR THE FUCKING MOMENT!!” – befuddled with the sudden outrage, the scholar pony obeyed, sitting quietly near the couch where Sunny was sleeping.

“Thanks!” – barked Hawkri, turning his eyes to the window – and just freezing there, awestruck.

“The book…”

“What book?!” – asked both mares in unison.

“The fuqing Liber Colloquii! The book I got in Vanhoover, in that crazy library!” – Hawkri clenched his fists: how could he have been so negligent? Even he was influenced with this cursed tome – in fact, he was the one who wrote it in the first place.

“Your book?! The one you’ve written in the existent future?!” – Twilight jumped up to her hooves and shook Hawkri, like a ragdoll. – “Do you even understand what power does it hold?! Especially when we’re talking of Sunny!! Her hibernating potential is now stirring awake!”

“Then what? I’ve tried to burn it – no result! Drowning – no result! Even the burying was in vain!”

“This book is a part of you. And it will exist as long as you do. And if after your death, somepony or someone will find it – this would be just a book. Not the time-space artifact – just a dubious grimoire.”

“So I need to die?”

“Wait a minute – this is ridiculous!” – Cheerilee pushed her way between the two, both glaring daggers at each other. – “This is the most absurd conversation I’ve ever heard! Twilight, this is not about how we’ll deal with the book – it was only the last straw! And Hawkri – stop flipping the shit around! We all care for Sunny, not just you – and we all want to guard her from whatever problems may occur. So, now, excuse each other, and kiss and make up!”

Look like Cheerilee’s scold hit the spot – Hawkri had lost his fervor, as if deflating a bit, and hung his head low:

“I’m sorry, Twilight. This whole… thing… got strong to my head. I feel helpless here and this just drives me nuts.”

“I know that feeling, Nick. And I also beg your pardon for my outrage. This was… foolish.” – sighed Twilight, extending the hoof for a shake. She was, however, unprepared for what followed – instead of a humble hoof/handshake, she was enveloped in a bone-crushing bear hug.

The expression of affection was always a weak point of our hero – he was just a tad bit too good at it. Especially in hugs.

“Air~!!” – wheezed Twilight, flailing her hooves frantically.

“Oh, yeah, sorry…” – the intimidated Hawkri opened his hands, letting the mare slip down, gasping for air and shaking the blur out of her sight.

“Glad you’ve found some peace. So, what do we do now?” – Cheerilee chimed in.

“Well… whew… first of all – I need to write Celestia about that. I supposed she’d know how to deal with this kind of magic problems. Second, Hawkri – the book may cause serious trouble – down to another surge, that is – so keep her away from Sunny’s reach.”

“I don’t seriously think that she’d willingly read it again.” – murmured our hero, locking his hands together and throwing a glance at the sleeping filly.

“We do not know the potential it holds. It is safe for you – because you’ve made it.”

“Speak of the safety…” – smirked Nick, shifting his eyes. Cheerilee gasped, stepping back a bit – she hadn’t seen that yet.

“Uh…Yes…” – Twilight’s ears drooped at the manifestation. – “You said that the librarian called you “Grand Master Septimus”. Anything rings the bell?”

“Septimus” was my nickname, if you’re saying that… Grand Master? Damn me if I know.” – shrugged Hawkri, standing up from the couch and pacing back and forth beside the bookshelves.

“Judging from the nature of the book, it seems that you’ve started some kind of order or, rather, a cult?..” – Twilight guessed.

“The future me, mind you!” – our hero remarked. – “And that doesn’t mean that I will. Future has got a thousands of possibilities, and only the Architect of Fates knows them all…” – saying so, Hawkri froze in his tracks.

“Architect of – what, now?” – Twilight creased a brow, puzzled with the statement.

“Never mind…” – automatically responded Nick, blinking off the image of snakelike rune on the cover of the threefold cursed book.

“Then we have this sorted out.” – concluded Cheerilee. – “In this case, I suppose, we can have some tea.”

***

While the trio was sitting in the kitchen with mugs of hot herbal tea, the heaving silence permeated the air. Everyone in the room was too oppressed to say anything, so they were just sipping the drink silently, barely noticing the taste.

The letter to Princess Celestia was already sent, complete with the suspicious gaze from the woken up Spike. Something told Hawkri that this drake knew exactly, that something was fishy down here. But, much to his honor, Spike wasted no time interrogating the trio – he just sent the letter right away, curled in a ball and fell asleep.

The expectance was heavy. So really heavy, that it was nearly palpable. Cheerilee sat silently, staring into her mug. Twilight was looking away. Hawkri was fiddling with the teaspoon, spinning it in his fingers. The short winter day was hurrying to totally come over, and the first dusk already planted on the land.

“I’ll go outside for a smoke.” – the silent approval left a bitter aftermath, as if something pretty nasty was to come.

And again, Hawkri really, really hoped that his guts would prove wrong.

***Meanwhile in Canterlot Castle***

Princess Celestia, tired with all the paperwork she had to sort out, sighed and rubbed her temples. The migraines were getting worse, and no remedy could help her, so she was just hoping to come it over with a good night’s rest – granted that the winter season was a pure blessing for the solar Princess.

Approving another document, she had noticed the cloud of greenish smoke that incorporated into a scroll. Celestia’s brows rocketed upwards – a letter? From Twilight? This was not the day of her usual report – and such a precisionist as herself was obeying this informal rule with all her heart – so the issue was really, really serious.

Deep inside feeling the joy of distraction from the bureaucratic routine, Celestia unfurled the scroll and began reading. As she was reading, a gentle smile on her face changed with confusion, which melted into fear. Forgetting all the ‘royal boredom’, as her sister put that, she summoned the quill and immediately wrote a response.

The pulsing pain in her head grew only stronger.

***

Throwing away the stub with disgust, Hawkri took a sip from his steaming mug and looked up to the sky. The crown of the tree, which, obviously, was the library, obstructed the view of the sky, but he was still able to see, how the day lets way to the night – the cerulean hues were mingling with the dark-blue ones, struggling and retreating behind the horizon, as the first stars blinked dimly at the velvety skies.

Taking another sip of tea, he heard the loud burping sound and the clatter of hurrying hooves. Instantly, he was inside, all ears:

“What’s it? What had Celestia written to you?”

Twilight read the scroll with a confused look:

“Princess… she tells me to come over to Canterlot. As soon as possible, that is. I don’t get it!”

“Suppose she has something to tell you on this matter, hasn’t she?” – inquired Cheerilee.

“I think so…” – Twilight’s reply was interrupted very harsh – the library door slammed open, and Clock Work dashed inside, gasping for air. The usually dainty stallion looked as if he was escaping something – mane disheveled, eyes wild, chest heaving for air.

“They’re… coming… for her!!” – he wheezed, collapsing to the floor.

Hawkri rushed to the fallen stud, dragging him to the armchair:

“Clock, talk to me! Who are “they”? And they’re coming for which “her”?” – he asked point-blank.

“They are…” – gasped the stallion for air, inhaling deeply. – “They’re coming for Sunrise, Raven. They claim she’s an incorporation of Chaos!”

“Ни хуя себе, струя!” – whistled Nick, his face hardening and fists clenching. – “Who are ‘they’, Clock? Who are the motherbuckers coming after my daughter?!”

“They’re… now setting up at the… square. Somepony called Swift Justice is the head…” – stuttered Clock Work. – “They’ve seen me, and chased – yelling “Witch’s neighbor! The witcher! Get him!’. I’ve barely escaped.”

“Thanks, Clock. Take your time, rest – but stay here. I’ll go there…” – Cheerilee grabbed the sleeve of Hawkri’s overcoat:

“Don’t do this, Hawkri! They’ll spare no mercy!”

“No one messes with my daughter and gets away with it. This fucking numbnuts can shove his accusations up his ass.” – Nick’s face was already impossible to look at – so dark and threatening it was. So he threw a hood over his face and took off, disappearing in the darkness of thickening twilight.

***

The crowd on the square was hard to miss – and our hero had used his chance to get through it. He slithered through the crowd of angry ponies to the fountain, upon which Swift Justice was holding a speech.

Nick’s gaze was transfixed at this Pegasus – robustly built, dappled stallion with one missing eye, which was standing on the brim of the stone bowl of fountain with flared wings and sermonized vertically. Hawkri, however, was too angry to listen to him – he had heard only the pumping of blood in his ears.

Stepping off from the crowd, he raised his voice:

“Swift Justice!”

The zealot stopped his sermonizing and looked at the intruder. Hawkri dropped the hood of his overcoat, so that his opponent could have a better look at him. The arrogant smirk slipped to the stallion’s face, as he raised his voice again:

“Look at him, brethren and sisterhood! This stallion has something to tell me! And do you know him?”

“I do!” – Romena stepped forward, pointing a hoof at Hawkri. – “He’s the step-father of the witch!”

“Romena, how the buck could you say that?! You know Sunny! What the fuq got into you?!” – frenzied Hawkri, grabbing the mare and shaking her, like a ragdoll. She resisted, but somehow half-heartedly.

“What the hell is this about?.. Shift!” – and with the renewed sight, Hawkri had seen the small thread of something, connected with the crown of Romena’s head. The same threads erupted from the minds (which was already undoubted for Hawkri) of everypony on the square – except for Swift Justice, which was the point of meeting for all those arching threads.

“You fucking zealot…” – growled Nick, letting Romena off and turning to Swift. – “Mind control tricks?! What has Sunny did to you, you fucking numbnuts?!”

“Ask them, if you wish…” – the piebald stallion motioned his hoof generously. – “They’ll tell you that…” – however, Hawkri’s fist never left him a chance to finish the sentence. The uppercut was swift, hard and well-placed – the zealot’s hooves lost grip with the bowl, sending him flying, as Hawkri leapt at him, like a bird of prey, obsessed with the single thought – to break every single bone in the body of this motherfucker.

Jumping onto the now grounded opponent, he landed a blow after the blow at the face of his opponent, hammering his head into the pavement. This lasted until the powerful buck to the chest sent him flying across the square, and the chuckling Swift raised to his hooves, with just a slight sway in his step:

“Thee and thy spawn shalt both be banished from this land!” – with those words, he landed a terrible blow across Nick’s face. The latter heard clearly how the teeth clicked, one flying out with a stream of blood and saliva.

“You call yourself Swift Justice? You are nothing but a crazed zealot! The whole Equestria is built with magic! The magic is in the fabric of this world!” – saying so, Hawkri landed a weighty blow with his knee to the chin of his opponent, sending him to the ground. – “And you dare call my daughter a witch?!!” – the blow was accompanied with a flurry of punches, crushing ribs, bruising the intestines, resonating throughout the whole frame of opposing stallion.

The rain of blows never ended, until the beaten up and bleeding Swift Justice hadn’t laid without movement, and Hawkri, standing up, hadn’t spat blood on the snow:

“I’ll show you some witchcraft…” – he promised grimly, summoning a fireball in each hand. They swelled and grew, reaching the size of a cartwheel, and the crowd around backed up to escape the heat.

“Thee shalt be banished from LIFE ITSELF!!” – rumbled Hawkri. – “Сдохни, пидор!!” – fueled with his wrath and bloodlust, the corporate magic rushed forward – to meet the empty place. Right before impact, with some invisible movement, Swift Justice took off to the air, bleeding hard; his coat smoldered and smoking where the heat wave hit it.

While Hawkri stood, awestruck, unable to realize what he had seen, the Pegasus rocketed down at him, planting a monstrous blow to his stomach.

World turned red, as our hero doubled at the force of impact – as if he was hit with the forging mallet at the full swing. He fell to his knees, coughing blood, throwing up – and it looked as if the crowd was only waiting for this signal.

That was terrible to see – the whole herd of ponies, each trying to kick or buck the figure in the center, unnatural rage on their faces and in their movements.

Enjoying the slaughter for a couple of seconds, Swift Justice opened his mouth to say something – but he was suddenly swiped away with some raging force, that sent him across all the square and rammed into the wall of the city hall.

Hawkri, looking more like a dead man, submerged above the crowd of awestruck zombified ponies: his one eye was closed, quickly swelling, but the other was shining with the dangerous gold. He lowered hands, put together in the Sign, and whispered:

“Run fast, run far, motherfucker – or I’ll fucking dine on your bones.”

Swift Justice, raising to his hooves with great effort, somehow heard those words – whispered across the square. He glared at Hawkri and took off, dashing to the night sky.

Our hero smirked, produced a cigarette and lit it. Scanned around – the terrified ponies were clearing from the focus of his only eye – and chuckled:

“Расходимся, народ – нас наебали.”

Then, pulling deep on the cigarette, he stumbled towards the library – triumphator leaving the battlefield of his glory. Beaten, broken – but nevertheless, victorious. And that was the only thing that counted.

It was serenely quiet now, and the snow began falling again, covering the remnants of the fight – hoof and footmarks, blood and broken teeth. The Nature healed itself after the terrible showdown that shook the most basics of winter’s rest.

Far away from Ponyville, Primus smiled sinisterly in his sleep. He licked his beak with a long, black, serpentine tongue, as if relishing at the taste of a delicate spread.

Perfect.

***

“Where’s he? He should have been back already!” – freaked out Cheerilee, thumping a rhythm against the floor with her hoof – with the speed that would put a skilled drummer to the shame.

“Cheerilee!”

“Sorry, Twilight – I just can’t sit here and wait! I’m coming for him!” – just pulling the doorknob, the mare was presented with the view of Hawkri.

“Nick?!”

“Hi, Cheers.” – smiled our hero, before falling face-first into the library.