Hoofsteps on bare stone echoed around the close walls of the bare room. It was a simple rectangle of dark gray stone, with a door at one end. The door was composed of gold, silver and gems and depicted a circular abstract object, with a fierce face looking out from the center.

The one walking slowly up and down the corridor was Daring Do, explorer extraordinaire. Her wings were raggedly feathered but still feathered, and twitched rhythmically, as though performing some kind of exercise. She wore the tatters of her usual khaki attire, and still had her pith helmet perched on her head, though it was very much the worse for wear. The whole of her attire was simply caked in dried, rust-toned blood.

She paced, almost nervously, along the gray floor, occasionally looking up at the door when she thought she had heard something. When nothing came of it she resumed her pacing, the meditative action casting her mind back to when things had all gone entirely pear-shaped.

The oppressive heat of the jungle tended to sap the strength and will of those that had not been acclimated to it. Those who failed to prepare were often the worst hit. Those who thought too much of themselves or brought the wrong equipment were most likely to simply be swallowed up by the expanse of green, to never be seen again.

Daring do had spent a long and storied career seeking the secrets of jungles, and was practically a native of the places. Her expertise was being put to the tense, as she crashed through the thick undergrowth and dodged around trees. She had given up on using techniques designed to evade pursuers. The mob of angry voices ringing out behind her were too close and too numerous to be long fooled by the subtle techniques. Running was all she had left.

She had lost count of how many there were, mostly by virtue of starting her run when there were only a few, and only finding out more had come by the increase in volume of the mob. It was something she had never thought she would ever see. Slavecatchers. They actually wanted to grab her and drag her back to the nearest port city to take her to... madness. Her and her friend Twilight Velvet... former friend...

Daring smiled as she saw the back of Velvet's head. The color and profile were unique. Her collaborator didn't often come in person to gather material for the next book, and seldom so soon after the last one. But Daring had heard of some kind of big do in Canterlot, and thought that had some connection to it. “Hey there. What's the big hurry?”

Velvet was standing behind a large trunk, which only let her head be seen. She walked around it as she turned, revealing a mirthless, vapid smile, total nudity and the lack of a horn. “Daring... there have been some... changes...”

“No shit, Vel... what the buck happened to you?” Daring asked, her normal thin veneer of propriety breaking down due to shock.

“It happened to us all. I know you were far outside the zone of effect but you need to know, this is how things are now. We have new leaders,” Velvet said, with an unsettling drone.

“'New leaders'? Impossible. I don't think the Princesses are going to step down. They've worked out for a few thousand years. I think they're sticking around,” Daring said with a sarcastic tone, rolling her eyes. It had to be a gag.

“The Princesses now serve. They serve as all mares must. Men are masters and we are cunts,” Velvet recited.

“Okay, gag's over. Use some magic to put back your horn and throw some clothes on. For Celestia's sake you're embarrassing yourself talking like that,” Daring huffed, looking sternly at Velvet.

“This is the new way,” Velvet said, with a kind of soft insistence.

“I still have no idea what you're talking about. New way for what?” Daring demanded.

“Cunts,” Velvet said, casually.

“You're in a weird mood today and it's not cool,” Daring grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Look, do you want what I've got or not? I'll make a decent partial book. Sell it to the company as an advance preview and I'll try to have more next time...”

“I don't sell. Master sells,” Velvet said.

''Master'? Oh I've got to her this, Vel. What in Celestia's name are you gabbling on about?” Daring asked, frustration creeping into her tone.

“Master is master. He owns my worthless self and makes money and power with my useless skills,” Velvet replied.

“You want useless skills that's the average noble,” Daring grumbled. “But your skills are turning my awesomeness into literature that gets studied in the modest universities. They're good for both of us.”

“No, no. I am completely worthless, so Master Nightlight's pity is a blessing and reward,” Velvet said.

“Nightli... your husband? Oh... you're getting into that now. Well look... more power to your... weird personal sex fetishes but this isn't the bedroom, you need some clothes,” Daring said.

“This is the way of the new order,” Velvet said, vapidly.

“Cut out the mysterious nonsense! What 'new order' are you talking about?!” Daring shouted.

“This new order, Daring Bitch,” a harsh male voice rasped out. From seemingly no where the airship port's landing tarmac was suddenly occupied by burly stallions, as well as a few caribou, which was unexpected. All were wearing semi-armored outfits with an unknown insignia.

“Hey! Watch the... caribou?” Daring questioned, indignation cooled by curiosity. “That's new. I've poked in your barrows now and then, usually the ones that were forgotten. The 'draugar' are a real pain. I don't like having to put a torch to a desiccated husk but when they start grabbing at me...”

“Shut up!” One of the stallions snapped. “Bitches speak when commanded. Then usually get slapped.”

“Buck you, asshole!' Daring said, throwing up the double fingers and blowing a razz. “I say what I want.”

“You say what you're told. You must obey,” Velvet said, oddly calm in the middle of her friend being insulted.

“How can you go along with this idiocy? He's calling me a bitch!” Daring cried. “It's been known to happen but you usually cut them down to size.”

“I embraced the new ways. The better ways. Before I was doing wrong by thinking I had value. Now I know I am worthless except as master's toy,” Velvet explained.

“Griffin scat, you always had a good head on your shoulders. Yeah, maybe I saw you looking at the weird aisle of the naughty book store but you were grounded,” Daring said.

“You must give in. Daring, we can keep making books!” Velvet squealed.

“Well, yeah, I have the notes...” Daring began.

“No. Sexy books. We take you back, you get trained as a slave then you go have sexy rape adventures and we write about that!” Velvet squealed in delight.

“Is your brain scrambled?!” Daring yelled. “A slave? Rape? What are you even babbling about?”

“The new world, bitch,” one of the caribou grunted. “We rule your nation now. Women are slaves, willingly or not. We will cut your wings and break your will until you are like all the others, caring only for the needs of men.”

“Here's an idea- no!” Daring cried at the caribou, staring daggers at him. “This is crazy. The Princesses wouldn't let this happen.”

“Our King is mightier than your Princesses. He took over and now all is as we desire. Dark, bleak, hard and masculine. No more of your soft femaleness which ruins all it touches. The world is pure and wholesome and set up for the convenience of men and men alone,” he caribou smugly asserted.

“Vel..?” Daring asked, looking just a little fearful.

“Just go out and get raped, I write about it and Master Nightlight sends it to the publishers. All the men will love it,” Velvet said.

“You've got nothing in your head anymore, do you?” Daring asked, tone and eyes softening.

“I always knew I was supposed to be under a stallion. But I foolishly believed the lies of the old world. Master Nightlight showed me the way. And now the whole world will know. Please come and be abused,” Velvet pleaded.

“Vel... I'll say this one time. I don't want to,” Daring said, with a gentle tone.

“That doesn't matter. What the men want is what mattered, and them alone. The needs of women must be beaten out of them until they obey what the great men demand,” Velvet said, with a disturbing gushing.

“Screw that!” Daring cried, turning a glare on Velvet. “Okay, you're one of those submissive types. I may think you have dry cheese between your ears but that's your business. Doesn't effect me because we used to work together. But you're saying you want it to affect me. That's not cool. Once it crosses the bedroom walls you can stuff it up the nearest guy's piss-hole!”

The men, who had been watching to see if Velvet could change things, all pulled out robes, chains and manacles. “The stupid bitch had her chance. She failed. Now we grab her and drag her back...” one caribou said.

“Master will punish me for failing!” Velvet wailed. “He sent me to get you for abuse!”

“I'm not happy you're getting hurt but it beats the alternative,” Daring spat, eying the collection of men attempting to encircle her. She dashed forward and used her considerable natural strength to knock one pony into another with a flying shoulder, knocking the two down.

“Got you!” the nearest caribou cried, clapping a manacle around her wrist. It was very thin, likely intended for weak and mostly unresisting mares.

Daring pulled hard suddenly, yanking the chain from the caribou's grip then bashing it against his face. She heard a sickening crunch as the hard strike impacted, likely breaking his muzzle. She pulled the manacle off and threw it down, turning on her tormentors. Another grabbed at her and she dodged deftly, throwing a buck into another caribou's stomach.

She recognized the armor plates. Cheap, brittle, poorly-forged high-impurity iron. The draugar wore various amounts of it, and it always broke with some ease. It wasn't age; the savages were just bad with metallurgy, and the tradition seemed to continue. They probably didn't anticipate serious opposition.

Daring reached down to scoop up a jagged shard of the plate, figuring even a weak weapon was a weapon. She made a feint towards the mass of men who cringed back just a touch, before dodging in the other way, towards the jungle at the edge of the airship port.

Before Daring could go far she was confronted by Velvet. “Outta the way! Just let me go and we're all square!”

“No woman can be allowed to resist! You have to submit to the rape and abuse of men! It's your job as a stupid, bimbo cunt!” Velvet screeched.

The men were coming for Daring, their eyes full of fury. “You know me. Let me through!” Daring shouted.

“No!” Velvet cried, reaching out to grab Daring. “Master dema-!”

Daring ran, listening to the shriek of pain behind her. She had had to escape. She thoughtlessly shoved the shattered armor plate at Velvet, just to get her aside. She felt the resistance, saw the red stain on her empty hand. She had left the plate behind, because pulling back was less important than running with all her might.

She wasn't sure if that had done it. She had no idea if that desperate thrust of jagged metal had killed Velvet or not. She wasn't about to go back and find out. What stuck out most in her mind, as she pounded the ground and fled towards the jungle edge, was that she wasn't sure if she hoped she hadn't, or hoped she had.

That had been hours ago. The sun had been low then; it was past the peak but still blazing away, heating the jungle like a sauna. Daring was soaked with sweat, and every muscle burned as even her adventure-trained muscles were pushed beyond their limits. The clawing plants tore at her clothes and pulled feathers from her wings, which she tried to keep closed.

She panted and gasped, ears up and trained to keep a listen out for the pursuers. They were motivated, to be sure. The cold-weather caribou were likely dying in the jungle's oppressive heat, while the ponies were nowhere near her equals when it came to the techniques of going through such a place. But, like brute-force robots, they pursued.

Daring stumbled into a clearing, sucking in huge, desperate lungfuls of the hot and humid jungle air. She almost felt like she could drown in the thick atmosphere. She pushed herself back to her hooves but grunted. Her muscles were reaching the limit. But desperation was giving her strength. She spread her ragged wings but quickly figured she'd never reach the canopy with all the feather damage, at least not fast enough to elude the guys that were hot on her hocks.

It was fight or flight, and had been since she stabbed Velvet. The flight was over. The fight was yet to come. She had no choice but to stand, fight and die. If even half of what Velvet had implied was true death would be preferable to the monstrous fate that awaited her back... where home used to be.

She dug under the leaf litter of the jungle floor, and came up with a modestly sized stone, along with a fallen vine that retained rubbery flexibility. The armor was garbage, they had no skills, but they had numbers. She didn't know how many slavecatchers were after her, but given that she had harmed someone potentially important, probably a lot.

“Come on, guys, stay with me just a little longer,” Daring mumbled to her muscles. They burned with lactic acid, and felt tense and tight as she stood there waiting, but she still felt good about her chances. Odds were they wanted her alive. She had no such desire for them. The balance of power and devotion to a cause was on her side.

The first one through, a nimble, skinny-looking dun earth pony, ran straight to her, holding up a net. His eagerness clouded his brain and ran him straight into her rock, shoved forward with all of her might. The crunch rang so loud it disturbed a small group of birds, sending their cries through the jungle.

She quickly checked the fallen stallion for anything like a weapon but found only a few scraps of propaganda, which Daring threw away in disgust. She made sure the fallen body was positioned to be seen by all entering. That was her version of propaganda. They wanted her, but she wasn't going to be taken.

The next wave of slavecatchers was a trio, more earth ponies. They had the stamina and speed on the ground, and would likely be at the head of the group. They, too, were only holding means of capture, ropes and a net. The net was tossed inexpertly, desperately even, the trembling stallion likely suffering a combination of fatigue and terror at the sight of the dead stallion.

Daring caught the edge of the net and pulled hard while running in a loose circle. The stallion hadn't thought to release his end of the net, which swept the other two off their hooves and tangled them up. With a harder pull Daring yanked the last stallion down. She didn't relish what had to be done, but she cracked them on their heads, with the force needed to stop them from moving.

As before, they carried no weapons. She was forced to conclude that either such figures had no weapons at all or the ones she found were advanced scouts who only tracked down the figure so the later ones could come in with the weapons. She was doing well, but there had been a lot more than just four behind her.

Almost as it reading her mind, the clearing was suddenly flooded. The main body of the pursuit group rushed in, brandishing ropes, nets, chains, manacles and magic. A few unicorns had their horns lit, ropes dancing like snaked in the enchanted grip. The caribou in the gathering looked much the worse for wear, being outside of their frozen wasteland.

The confrontation led to a still silence, the men forming a wide circle around the clearing, cutting odd Daring's means of ground-based egress. The few pegasi would be fast enough to catch her if she went up. They all seemed fatigued by the pursuit, and a little unsettled by the prior victims of Daring's desperate fighting.

They whispered to one another, and pointed, as though telling each other who should go first. They all seemed to be daring, almost demanding, other s go, while hanging back in justified terror. Daring figured that if things were really so bad back in Equestria they had never seen a mare who fought, just doormats like Velvet. She smiled a bit. They were right to be terrified of her.

The standoff ended when one of the caribou surged in, huffing and puffing like a badly-tuned steam engine. He had a chain in his hand that he was swinging around, likely intent on beating Daring into submission before capture.

The intention was disrupted, Daring whipping her vine out into the spinning chain. The chain lost all momentum as it tangled up with the vine and flopped down in the buck's hand. His surprise turned into a momentary look of fear as the rock crashed into the side of his head and he fairly flew to the side, his skill cracked at the weakest part of the temple.

That single charge and the failure after lit a fire under the angrier and more indignant ones. They were used to getting their own way, it seemed. A number charged in, thinking that numbers could carry the day. But they all came too fast and without coordination, their various strikes and grabs interrupting each other and creating a chaotic mess.

Being a single, coordinated, fighter meant Daring only had to pay attention to her own body. She pushed her aching muscles to be as deft as they had always been, twisting around grabs and the use of restraints, taking punches if it meant she could move into a better position for her own punch, buck or slam with the rock.

Daring was really holding out well. Fighting was, oddly, less strenuous than running. Running necessitated long, mechanical periods of sustained and ceaseless effort. A fight was broken into a series of small, lightning moves, each one called for by her prior actions and the actions of the opponents. She was managing, but getting overwhelmed.

Boldness increased as Daring's position weakened. The cowardly mob, rested by standing around watching Daring under assault crushed in. The bodies of the groaning wounded or silent slain did not restrain them. Even if they had no plan the sheer weight of numbers would be sufficient to overpower her. Already she was taking hard hits and had ropes attached to her, while desperate hands clawed at her attire.

A roar rang through the jungle, stopping everyone dead in their tracks. For a breathless space nothing happened, then one of the outer stallions screamed as he was pounced upon by a snarling jaguar. A cheetah rushed up to clamp its jaws on another pony, a lynx leaping up and clinging to the face of a third.

A soft whistling sounded through the jungle and a dull, meaty thunk was followed by two screams. Two stallions standing close to each other were impaled on the same wooden shaft, the obsidian point of the spear shining with blood in the afternoon light.

In short order more of the obsidian-tipped spears rushed through the air and rammed through the brittle armor, sending the disorganized stallions and bucks scattering. They couldn't quite run as the feline marauders were drawing their focus. They could only look around to see from where the deadly missiles were coming.

No more spears looked incoming, but what did come in was no more comforting. At first the explosion of color and detail made the whole difficult to separate from the sum of the parts. The head looked like a stylized jaguar head of carved hardwood, stained and painted, inlaid with gold and jewels, as well as lined with feathers of red, green and blue. Over the body was what looked very much like a jaguar-skin cloak and jumpsuit, though inspection revealed it to be composed of cloth and leather, dyed to resemble a real coat. Down at the feet were sandals of leather and cloth, decorated with gold. Bright golden chains wrapped around the neck, and a collection of bracers, bracelets and other bands of gold went up the arms.

Staring from out of the wooden jaguar head was the stern and unfeeling face of Ahuizotl. He held three of the same weapon in his three hands, a trio of macuahuilzoctli, the smaller version of the more famous, two-handed macuahuitl. All three were dark hardwood clubs, about two feet long each, looking like a cricket bat, with the narrower sides having four wickedly sharp blades of hemicircular obsidian each.

“My ahtlatl is silent,” Ahuizotl rumbled out. “All the tlacochtli have stricken like the wrath of Opochtli and stand out from the bodies of the rightly slain, hunted to their proper death. But fear not, my felines are still fierce, and these...” He held up the three weapons. “The hungry wood... hungers for your blood!”

Ahuizotl leaped to battle with an inarticulate shriek of fearsome rage, the obsidian blades brutally severing flesh and bone as they wildly struck out at the mob of screaming slavecatchers. The brittle metal armor was useless before the enraged strikes of Ahuizotl, who struck with furious abandon.

Daring's eyes met Ahuizotl's, for a brief moment that almost seemed to make time stop. Both were bloody and determined, a tiny nod passing between them. Wordlessly, Ahuizotl's tail-hand reached out to pass the macuahuilzoctli along to her. Thus armed Daring unleashed a cry of rage and raised it high.

“This is for taking away my friend!” She screamed before she brought it down, down and split the skull of one of the last caribou wide open.

The scrape of stone-on-stone broke daring out of her reverie, and drew her focus to the good-marked door. The golden seal had twisted in a particular fashion and the whole thing rose up into the ceiling. By rising it revealed Ahuizotl, still in his jaguar-like attire, soaked in blood but unarmed.

“The jungle swallows the unwary,” Ahuizotl said deeply. “In but days the bodies will be gone. My cats eat heartily as do the piranha, the army ants and the other things that live in the dark undergrowth.”

“I should have been finishing the job,” Daring insisted. “I could have mopped up the last of them.”

“They all had to die, before proper word could return to your homeland,” Ahuizotl replied. “Those who witnessed the events in the jungle say nothing. Those who did not only saw all enter, and none leave. They will believe you were all gobbled up by the jungle's gluttonous maw.”

“So, you're clear, and I'm officially missing,” Daring said, looking Ahuizotl's attire over. “Getting fancy on me?”

“I knew nothing, until I spoke to Dr. Caballeron... Dr. Cabrón,” Ahuizotl spat, a snarl creeping into his voice. “He explained with such disgusting glee how he... he also told me, finally, what had happened, and how aggressive they were to stamp out symbols, and how he was planning to capture you. I hope he likes the bottom of that quicksand...”

“Going to sell me yourself? That's a lot of work to just hand me over, but I guess I'm worth more money now,” Daring said, casually leaning her aching body against a wall.

“What they do to mares... to all women is intolerable,” Ahuizotl said. “If there is no more equality there is no purpose to life. They all may as well give themselves to the beasts if they would rob the world of so much.”

“I never expected to hear you be the one to say that,” Daring said, looking at Ahuizotl's face for a trace of insincerity.

“If there was nothing to you but a beaten and broken body, there would be nothing. An empty shell,” Ahuizotl said quietly. “I would not contest with an empty shell. I would not fight with an empty shell. I would have no purpose with an empty shell. Your fire, your glorious energy and wisdom makes you who you are. Worthy.”

Daring gave a breathy chuckle and clicked her mouth a bit. “Thanks. You're not so bad yourself. Still doesn't explain a full tlahuiztli in Jaguar Warrior colors and decoration, with a matching jaguar cuacalalatli. I've never known you to wear more than ichcahuipilli. And I'll bet you have that on under the tlahuiztli.”

“You see there, you see?!” Ahuizotl cried out, pointing at Daring. “That mind, that knowledge, that is what makes you worthy. You know what I bear, how I bear it and what it is called. You even know the unseen.”

“So... the Jaguar Warrior getup?” Daring asked.

“I have always had this. I am, after all, entitled to all glory as the last descendant of the these vanished nations. I may wield the ahtlatl and hurl the tlacochtli, like an aristocrat, and dress as a Jaguar Warrior. There are none to tell me 'no.' I wanted their last thoughts to be fearful awe. And I think they feared. But what pleases me, is they feared you more. Feared you before you took up the macuahuilzoctli, and feared you more after. A strong mare, a bloody mare, a mare fighting them. The cowards. They died because they deserved death, and it was more proper you delivered it.”

Daring chuckled lightly and rolled her aching shoulders. The fleeing hadn't done that. The pitiless slaughter with the macuahuilzoctli had gotten her a little sore. “Yeah, yeah... one strong mare. If Vel was right, there are no more like me. Or there are very few. I'm not likely to do much good.”

“Dr. Cabrón was very... forthcoming as he dangled over the quicksand begging for his life...” Ahuizotl said darkly. “He knew much of what had happened in Equestria. The talk is suppressed, very heavily, but a black market stallion like him heard much of what is secret. There is a rebellion. There are freed mares and others hiding and fighting back.”

Daring punched into her hand and cheered. “Yeah! You can't keep a mare down!”

“That is why you have bested me many times. This new order is ridiculous. How can we enjoy the game if they intend to just beat and rape you into some kind of doll? They don't even care about how this affects us!” Ahuizotl groused.

“At least you want to do something,” Daring said with a roll of her eyes.

“And I wish to bring back the old world! If I destroyed it now it would be an improvement,” Ahuizotl said quickly.

“And I'd have more trouble stopping you,” Daring noted.

“I do not wish to be handed my victory. I require your conflict, like a condor rising against the wind. Our contesting is what makes life worth living,” Ahuizotl said.

“And you know... exploration wouldn't be anywhere near as fun without you there being a pain,” Daring said with a laugh. “So now what do we do? Besides taking a long, hot bath and getting some food?”

“Once enough time has passed I will begin dealing with the loose-tongued criminals, but this time I will do so with a different purpose. I will be a naualoztomeca,” Ahuizotl said firmly.

“Naualoztomeca... a merchant spy? Who are you going to report your intelligence to?” Daring asked.

“We shall collect it...” Ahuizotl said.

“'We'?” Daring asked.

“We both desire the old world, yes? Our game returned and all the folk freed to enjoy their own personal activities as we do,” Ahuizotl said.

Daring nodded. “Well, sure. That would be great. And I’d love to get a bunch of secrets and spy information. But what can we do with it?”

“While you are here, you can look through my codices,” Ahuizotl said. “Your active mind may see that which I have missed. You could find indications of some magical artifacts that might help the rebellion. We collect them, and then bring them down, along with our intelligence.”

“You do have a good collection...” Daring mused, stroking slowly over her chin. “I'm pretty sure I can find something you missed. It'll be good to keep active, even if it's only mentally active. Anything to throw a beating at those bastards.”

Ahuizotl nodded and indicated the exit from the secure hiding space. “That is why it will be such a pleasure to work with you. Come, you will find my temple has all the comforts, including a hot spring with excellent plumbing. I too find myself in need of cleaning. And I must re-brine my ichcahuipilli after taking off any blood that soaked through.”

“And while you're washing your stuff, give mine a soak. And be careful with the pith helmet, it's special,” Daring said, casually peeling off her tattered attire. “And make some food, I haven't eaten since breakfast.”

“Of course! I am nothing if not a gracious host,” Ahuizotl said. “The hot spring is...”

“I know where it is. I may not have known just where this place was but I looked through an old architecture codex for its construction. I'll still be soaking when you get there. Try to be quiet; I really, really need to unwind,” Daring said with a roll of her shoulders.

“Of course,” Ahuizotl said, nodding his head and walking away with Daring's clothes.

Daring watched Ahuizotl go and took off for the hot spring only after he was out of sight. “It's been a bizarre day... I never expected any of that. But at least things show some promise...”

Author's Note

Notes on terms

Jaguar Warrior- The highest ranked of the Aztec warriors, a title attained after securing four live wartime captives.

Ahtlatl- A long piece of carved wood with a cradle on one end, using to hurl large darts, or small spears, with great force. Considered the exclusive tool of the aristocracy and also seen as the weapon of the gods.

Tlacochtli- The darts hurled by the ahtlatl. A symbolic aspect of Opochtli, the god of the hunt.

Cuacalalatli- A carved, hardwood helmet made in the shape of an animal's head.

Tlahuiztli- Highly decorated suits of leather, hide and quilted cotton cloth armor for elite warriors which opened at the back to cover the torso and extremities.

Ichcahuipilli- Ordinary quilted cotton armor for lower soldiers. It was soaked in boiled salt brine which was allowed to crystallize and increase the strength of it.

Macuahuilzoctli- The smaller, one-handed version of the more infamous macuahuitl, which was larger and tended to be a two-handed weapon that could be from four feet to an extreme of a man's height. Flat and long like a paddle, with obsidian blades arranged along the sides in various configurations.

Naualoztomeca- A trader or merchant who also acted as a spy, because merchants went everywhere and could learn many things by virtue of having money and connections.