Hunter's Soul

Smithy opened the old hoof-locker and coughed as a plume of dust spewed up into his face. The lodge's storage room was cold and smelled of mothballs.

The dust slowly settled as he reverently removed the old E.U.P. dress uniform from the top of the locker and set it aside, revealing the now-dull sheen of the armor underneath. His great-great-grandfather had been a Wonderbolt, a pegasus serving under Princess Celestia herself, and his sons had kept his belonging for generations.

Even as an earth pony, Smithy was fairly sure the armor would still fit, but the important part was deeper in the chest. Smithy rooted deeper, and found a long wooden box with the old Wonderbolt insignia on it. The box was nearly as long as he was, and barely fit. He popped it open.

His ancestor's lance gleamed, even in its disassembled state after generations of disuse. Smithy lifted out each piece and lay them on the floor, then began to reconstruct each component. The haft slotted into the base of the heavy conical guard, screwing in until a spring-pin locked it in place securely. The blade went onto the end of the guard, and four heavy threaded bolts tightened it in solidly, fixing the entire thing together. Finally, Smithy tossed the armor's saddle over his back, cinching it tight with the tough old woven belts and strapping the control belt for the lance-stirrup around his rear leg. He picked up the lance in his teeth and slotted the haft through the stirrup, let go and kicked his leg back, causing the stirrup to close and rotate forward, lowering the lance into its jousting position. He nodded, glad the mechanism still held up after all this time, and turned to look in the dusty old mirror.

The blade of the lance crashed through a pair of coatracks and sent a broom clattering across the floor. Smithy backpedaled into a crate in surprise, hurriedly kicking the stirrup-belt back into an upright position and causing the lance to catapult a blanket covered in dust into the ceiling, flooding the room with choking particles. He broke into a fit of coughing, stumbling for the door and catching the point of the now-raised lance over the doorframe. The blade stuck for a moment, then popped loose, flopping him backwards into the mess he was trying to escape.

Moments later he emerged from the dispersing cloud of dust, choking, coughing and thoroughly humiliated, so find his sister skidding to his aid.

"Smithy! I was looking for you!"

"I'm fine, Myrrh, I fine. I didn't really thing that through." Smithy brushed himself off and reached over his shoulder and pulled the old lance out of its stirrup. "Fink thiff vill vurk?" he asked around the haft, giving it a small brandish.

Myrrh looked along its length and gave a small shrug. "Well, I guess. Are you sure you don't want the rest of the armor, too? We want you to be safe... I was just at the town hall, everyone is really worried about what you're doing..."

Smithy set the weapon down on the floor, looking back at the armor. "I know. Hey, don't worry. I won't be alone, I'm gonna learn from the best, right? They're Monster Hunters, its literally their job."

"Oh, Smiff..." His sister reached out and wrapped her hooves around him. "Why are you doing this?"

"A lot of reasons." Smithy gave her a nuzzle and broke away. "Because I'm angry it crushed my forge. Because it seems heroic to go off and fight the dragon-"

"H'ain't ha dragon, y' ken?" Popo suck his antlered head around the corner. "Ah wuld nevah want t' fight ha dragon. Naw, a Kez-who is a wyvren."

"A... what? A wyvren?" Myrrh cocked her head. "I though wyvren were mythological. Or at least extinct since... forever."

"Oh, nae, lassie. That's a Hunter's main trophy! Hay, ma hamma is made of Barroth Ah hunted maself! It dragons ye be thinkin' of tha be extinct." The caribou shook his head.

Now it was Smithy's turn to be confused. "Dragons aren't extinct. One lives in a cave three mountains east of here."

Popo smiled and shook his head. "Naw, ye pullin' ma leg." The two earth ponies shook their heads, and Popo's mouth fell open. "Ye serious? Naw hay... We real' ah in a new land. Dragons..."

"Yeah, dragons. Never seen a wyvren before yesterday, though. Think this'll hurt it?" Smithy put a hoof on the guard of the lance. "My great-great-grandfather..." He tapped his hoof on the floorboards to make sure he had skipped the proper number of generations. "Yeah, he was a pegasus in the Wonderbolts. We still have his armor and service weapon."

Popo kneeled down in his forgives and cast a critical eye over the metal. "Naw offhence, but this t'ain't much of a service wep'n. It ain't ever seen a figh'." He ran his hoof along the blade of the lance. "Naw chips, ain't even been sharpened. Looks lag good steel, though. Equestrian-made, unicorn witch'ry for that polish." He straightened up and shook his head. "Nah, it be fine for some practice and paradin', but Ah nay let ye fight a big wyvren with this. 'Prolly snap 'n 'alf."

"Really?" Smithy asked, crushed. Popo looked at him with some pity.

"Ah teach ya haw t' make a real Hunter weap'n, once Ah see haw ya move. It'll do f'ernow."

"T-thanks. Where is Kirin? She just said 'find me' yesterday."

"Oh!" Myrrh gasped. "That's right! She wasn't in her room this morning!"

Smithy felt his eyes widen. "She's gone!?"

"Och, dinne worry 'bout it. She's gone oop t'mountain fer a looksie, we'll follow'er. Keery 's just lag tha', all dark 'n shady." Popo shrugged. "Get sum'm warm t'wrap yerself in, we'll get goin'"

Smithy nodded enthusiastically, picking up the lance and maneuvering it through the hall to lean it by the front door, then dashed into his room. He found quickly pulled his boots on, then looked over his saddle. Assuming it would be far to chilly wearing a barely-padded piece of steel around his middle, he unstrapped it, pulled a knitted sweater over his head, and buckled the armor back on over it. He grabbed his wool cap from where it hung as he headed out the door.

And hesitated. His cap had been hung where it always had, on the ugly knife stuck into the wall. The knife that matched the image on his flank.

He bit down on the hilt and wrenched it from the wall, slipping the blade in-between his saddle and sweater, figuring it couldn't hurt to have an extra tool out in the wilderness. Satisfied that he was ready, he trotted outside, picking up the steel lance and slotting it into its stirrup now that their wasn't anything to knock over or get caught on.

Mr. Popo was waiting for him, bundled in a warm-looking coat and pants made of fur and some thick, tough looking brown material, and had a small pickaxe stuck in his belt. Next to him, however, was his weapon; a massive maul made of layers of rust-colored horn and massive scales. It's striking head had multiple bevels, making it look a bit like a axe that was far to broad, and the haft was some kind of carved ivory reinforced with iron fittings and a muzzle-guard. Popo picked it up easily and slung it across his back, motioning for Smithy to follow him. Smithy adjusted his saddle and trotted after.

They left town heading toward the mines, then carried on right past and up a narrow trail between the dyeing scrub grass and snowdrifts. Popo called out over his shoulder as they went. "Game trail, y'ken? Wee beasties pass back'n forth fer awhile, an' it wears a path. Makes fer easy goin', an' leads to places!"

"What kind of places?" Smithy asked, huffing slightly. Popo didn't answer.

The trail vanished shortly before they reached the bottom of a cliff face, sheltered from the snow, wind and sun, resulting in cracked grey stone. Mr. Popo examined the rocks, picking one up with a hoof and tapping it on one of his antlers. "Och, ain't we just luck i'self. Here." He tossed Smithy the rock. "Tha's whetstone-rock. Sit 'yer pony bum down, use the flat side of the rock, and grind it hard on the edge of 'yer lance."

"B-but this is an antique! I can't just rough it up with some old rock!" Smithy objected. Popo stuck his tongue out at him and blew a raspberry.

"Wel' boo-dee-hoo. Yew couldn't kill a Mosswine with tha' thing. Hunter's weap'n need to be two things and two things on'leh; strong, an' either heaveh o' sharp. Tha' thing ain't heaveh, so yew best ge'r sharp." The caribou pulled his pickaxe out of his belt and began to chip rocks off the wall, pocketing the ones with big enough grinding surfaces and discarding the rest. "Rememba' this spawt, Smivvy. Yew should come by 'n climb t'build oop ya strength."

Smithy nodded, pulling out his great-great-grandfathers lance and bracing it across his shoulder. He used his hoof to push the rock across the side of the blade, keeping it at an angle to produce an edge, repeating on both sides and the tip to finish. He grimaced as he saw the damage he had just done to the polish.

"Y'done?" Popo asked, trotting over. "Look'n good, def'nitly won't bounce anymore. M'kay, let's go track'n a doe!"

They set off further up the mountain, where the snow was piled deeper. It wasn't long before Popo saw what he was looking for and called out. "Oi!"

"What is it?" Smithy pushed through a drift, looking at where a splash of dirt stained the snow. He furrowed his brow, tiring to determine what happened. "Did somepony pull up a plant here? Look, it came up by the roots right here." He prodded at the spot with a hoof, puzzled. "A rabbit would have just eaten the greens. Why pull it up?"

"Because..." came a melodious voice from disturbingly close behind them, "mountain herb is a valuable healing reagent."

The startled earth pony colt spun around, nearly putting his eye out on Popo's antler. Kirin the deer was standing serenely behind them, not a meter away. The doe was wearing insulated armor and a helmet made of iridescent green- and grey-speckled plates, padded with thick rolls of black fur that made her look like some kind of dark princess. Balanced across the back of her saddle was a strange kind of crossbow with a metal barrel far wider than any bolt Smithy had ever seen. She raised an eyebrow as Smithy backed into a snowbank.

"Ay'ya, Keery. Kids' might' sharp." Popo said casually. Smithy extracted his tail from the icy-cold drift.

"S-sorry Miss Kirin, ma'am. You… you startled me."

Kirin nodded, looking away up the mountain. "I see you've found a weapon."

"Y-yes." Smithy stammered. "Mr. Popo said he would help me make a better one, b-but I hope this one will do for n-now." Smithy cursed the return of his stutter silently. The pretty deer's penchant for sudden appearances wasn't going to help his awkwardness one bit.

"It will do. There is an Alpha Giaprey on the prowl. We must act quickly before it decides to make this mountainside its territory and threaten your village with its pack."

Popo sputtered in surprise. "Yew want him to hunt nao!? Ah barely gave ma intro teh 'Trackin' fer Dummies Earth Pony Edition'!"

Smithy looked between the two, slightly confused. "Why do I feel like that was an insult, and what's a Giaprey?"

"Follow." Kirin turned and started walking. The two bucks fell into step behind her. "The Giaprey is a small, birdlike wyvren, closely related to Velociprey and Jaggi. It is adapted to arctic climates, which explains why it was able to cross the ice bridge between our continents. They hunt in packs, and attack by leaping on their prey and slashing with a large, razor-sharp talon. If they feel the prey will be difficult, they spit."

"Spit?" Smithy glanced over his own clothing and wished he had worn more of the pegasus armor. Knitted wool didn't seem like it would stop a razor-talon. "Is it poisonous or something?"

"Naw. It's foamin' and freezin', turn what it hits inta a ice-ball. Right annoyin' when it's in yer face." Popo elaborated. Smithy tried to imagine it and failed.

Kirin continued her instruction, and Smithy hung onto every word as they hiked. Bird-wyvren stood on two legs, meaning they would need to lean before dashing and jumping. Stay light in your hooves, be ready to dodge a pounce at any time. Strike after it attacks while it is recovering, then break off. Smithy absorbed the information like a sponge, feeling like his life would depend on it. And above all: do not hesitate.

"If you hesitate, it will kill you. Wyvren are dumb beasts that know no fear, but they are predators and will tear you to pieces in a heartbeat." Kirin turned and looked Smithy straight in the eye. "You must kill it or it will kill you. Your are the Hunter or the prey."

"I-I understand." Smithy swallowed hard. He had never killed anything bigger than a potted plant his mother had bought once. And that was an accident. Now he was about to kill something that bled.

The deer huntress took a sharp turn to a fallen log, sheltered by some trees. "You will find blue mushrooms in there. Collect as many as you can find. If you see deathcup, tell me so I may remove it safely. Do not try to pick it up with your teeth, I am not carrying antidote."

Smithy complied, getting down on his belly and sticking his head under the log. He found several of the blue fungus in question, and some other kinds that smelled sickly sweet and peppery. Avoiding those, he wriggled back out and presented his haul.

"Good." was all Kirin had to offer, turning and leading the way again. They stopped several more times, collecting herbs, a bottle of honey, some waxy berries… most of which struck the earth pony as odd, but both Hunters assured him they were useful and necessary. Some time later, Smithy noticed smoke up ahead, and got his bearings.

"Hey! We're heading back to the village!"

"Yes." Kirin confirmed.

"I thought we we're going to hunt the Giaprey?"

"We are."

Smithy rolled his eyes. "Well is the Giaprey in Little Flanchard?"

"No."

Popo chuckled. "Teh likkle shites can wait. We jus' got some cookin' t'do."

They re-entered the lodge, and Kirin vanished into her room and returned with a metal pot and a long rod with a crank-handle jutting off of one end, and Popo excused himself outside again. The doe quickly took over the central fireplace, Smithy watching curiously.

"Magic may be the domains of stags and unicorns," Kirin stated as she poured a small amount of water to the pot and added the mushrooms Smithy had gathered, "but Alchemy is available to all who seek its knowledge. Healing Potions are an asset to Hunters new and experienced, as mistakes can be made at any time. Blue mushroom and honey melted under low heat unlocks the healing energies of the common mountain herb, and will quickly stop bleeding and mend flesh when drunk. Beware drinking such a simple mixture to often, though, as your body will begin to reject it."

Smithy nodded, fascinated as the doe stirred her concoction until it was a translucent light green, the poured the liquid into bottles and corked them. She lay out her saddlebags, pulling four paper-wrapped packages from it. Kirin opened one, and the earth pony reeled back at the sight and coppery smell of bloody meat and bone. Kirin glanced up at his reaction.

"Wha? W-what is that?" Smithy asked, leaning away.

"Giaprey shank. I killed two this morning before we rendezvoused. A Hunter does not kill for pleasure alone, we carve everything useable from our trophies."

"W-what are you going to do with it? Alchemy?"

"No..." Kirin delicately slid the rod through two of the shanks. "We are going to eat it."

Smithy gagged. Kirin looked surprisingly concerned, and Smithy would have said it was the most emotion he had seen from her yet if he haven't been so adamantly looking away.

"Is something the matter?" The doe asked, carefully mounting the spit high over the flames.

"Of course something's the matter! It's meat! Civilized creatures don't eat meat! We have hay, and flowers, and vegetables!" Smithy wrinkled his nose, expecting the smell of burning flesh to fill the lodge at any time.

"Why? Equines like you and I can eat meat just fine." Kirin turned the spit slowly. "We are Hunters, and thus we are predators. Predators eat meat to keep them strong."

Smithy buried his face in his hooves, aghast. He had just apprenticed himself to a complete barbarian.

"Are you going to help, or are these going to go to waste? You had best not be squeamish, their will be much more blood and sinew if you slay and carve your own kill." Kirin noted. It was at that moment that the lodge door opened and Yarrow walked in.

"Hello, Smithy! You're back already!" The emerald unicorn smiled brightly, unfazed by the swath of bandage across the side of her head and around her left hoof. Smithy's heart skipped a beat when he realized he hadn't given a thought to finding out how she had fared from after the attack.

"Y-Yarrow! Are you ok? H-h-how are you f-feel-agh!" He worked his jaw in frustration, trying to stop his stammer. It had barely bothered him at all, yesterday. Yarrow graciously ignored it.

"I'm doing fine, thank you! Or, thanks to you." Smithy was stunned when she lowered her head and scuffed at the floorboards shyly. "You saved my life and almost died."

"W-w-well, it was me or both of us..." The blacksmith-pony blushed heavily, wondering how to react to that. You're welcome? Or is that dismissive? How to does somepony respond to that?

His train of thought was derailed and brought back to his other dilemma when Yarrow sniffed the air. "What is that?"

Smithy rolled his eyes. "That is our wonderful Monster Hunter here, cook-"

"It smells good!" Yarrow exclaimed, trotting over to the fire.

"-ing… wait, what?" He took a wiff himself, and had to admit, he didn't smell the acrid stench of burning flesh he had come to expect from the times he had burned himself on the forge. Instead, a thick, heady, savory scent had filled the lodge.

"This is Giaprey Leg Rotisserie. We will be hunting the rest of the pack this afternoon." Kirin elaborated.

"This is meat?" Yarrow leaned closer, eyeing the spit. The product in question had turned a glistening brown, and sizzled as fatty liquids seeped out and met the flames. Kirin opened her mouth, looking annoyed about another accusation about civilized diet, but Yarrow was on a very different page. "I've never had meat before! I never thought it could smell this good! I don't know why, it never occurred to me that you would cook it."

Kirin gave a flabbergasted Smithy a smug look behind Yarrow's back. "Of course, raw it is indigestible and tough. If you like, you and our Hunter-to-may eat first while I cook Popo and myself the others."

Smithy felt ill as he realized he had just been had, and there was no way he was going to get out of this without taking a bite of the stuff. Yarrow merrily used her magic to help the doe pull the shanks off of the spit, and floated one over to Smithy, who did his best to grin.

"Uh… thanks?" Oh Celestia I'm gonna have to eat it. I'm gonna eat it and probably die. He took it carefully in his hooves by the slightly charred bone that stuck out at either end. To make it worse, Yarrow sat down right next to him.

"I'm kinda nervous. Are you? I've never even heard of Giaprey before." She confided, examining her own piece, trying to decide where to start.

"It's a small, flightless bird-wyvren. They live in cold places and hunt in packs." Smithy recited.

"Huh. Well, here it goes!" Yarrow sunk her teeth in and took a bite, and her eyes widened. "Oo vao! Diff iff riffy goof!"

"Really?" He cautiously lifted his own shank and bit in. Immediately, his taste busts danced as a surprising amount of tender juices burst around his mouth, fatty, savory and almost spicy, entirely new and more than a little wild. He chewed thoroughly and swallowed, then took another bite. Kirin's composure broke and she gave a sharp, barking laugh.

"What's so funny?" Yarrow asked, watching her skewer the rest of the meat before turning back to her own. Smithy blushed and made certain his mouth was full so he would not have to answer, glad his mother was not in the building at the moment.

"Our hunter-to-be has just learned several valuable lessons. That is all." The deer shook her head, amused.

The ponies turned as the door burst open and Popo backed in, dragging the remains of a toboggan and a number of Smithy's tools. "Oi! Yew think ye could rig 'er up to yer saddle as a shield? T'ain't  much, but it'll stop the likkle 'uns. Oh, hai there, lassie. Ha's teh steak?"

"Wonderful, thank you. Miss Kirin is making more." Yarrow shut the door with her magic as the caribou shook a bit of snow off of his pants. Smithy took another bite (he was nearly finished) and set the Giaprey Rotisserie aside, chewing as he looked over the salvaged materials. He swallowed and nodded.

"Yeah, shouldn't be too hard. I'll have to scrap my tong-harness, but I can mount a shield." He picked up his pliers and set about prying loose the bits he would need to bolt a pivot haft onto the flat sled that would fit his armor's secondary stirrup.

Yarrow came over to watch. "Can I help?"

Smithy hesitated. "Uh… I-I guess? How?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me." The unicorn admitted. Smithy winced, embarrassed.

"He could use better armor, certainly." Kirin supplied. "And we only have a few hours to acquire it."

"Right! The rest of m-my great-great-great-grandpa's Wonderbolt armor is in the storage room. I can still use that, I-I think."

Yarrow's eyes sparkled as she gasped. "Your grandpa was a Wonderbolt?! Oh, wow, I'll go and get it!"

She came trotting back with the assorted pieces of the armor floating in the sparkle of her magic, as well as what looked like some spare socks and a coat. "Pew! It is a mess in there. Looks like a tornado went through."

"Fanks." Smithy muttered around a screwdriver. He spit it out and continued. "I could use some m-magic here. Can you help me drive t-these s-screws in?"

"Of course! Hold it steady."

Between the two of them, it only took a few minutes to bolt the haft securely to the toboggan, and an hour more to fix on several reinforcing strips of wood to keep it from splitting when hit. Then, Yarrow had him stand up and began to dress him.

"R-really, I can do this myself!"

"Nuh-uh." The unicorn orbited several pieces of protection around him, trying to determine where they went. "You saved me, the least I can do is make sure you stay safe out there. Besides, my brother is in the Imperial Army of the Crystal Empire, so I know how this fits. Now hold still."

She started by making him pull on all four pairs of the wool socks she had found, the stuck his boots on and laced them tight. A greave went over the front of each leg, buckled on, and linked up to the peytral she buckled to his chest and the flanchard across his flanks. She lifted the criniere for his neck next, but Smithy ducked away.

"N-not that piece. I need to move quickly, and l-look around."

"Then the helmet, at least." Yarrow pulled his mane back and floated her silver-grey champron down, threading the hairs through the back. The front was more than open enough to see clearly out of.

He stretched, kicking each leg to test for mobility and nodded. "I think this is good. A-any more and it'll slow me down."

Yarrow looked like she was going to object, but that was the moment Smithy's mother returned. She gasped as she saw her son testing the flexibility of his apparel.

"Oh, Smiff." She stood in the open lodge door, letting the cool breeze in and fumbling for words. "I... Oh, do be careful, Smithy. It's dangerous out there."

"I know, mum." Smithy picked up his new shield by its mounting haft and slotted it into the left stirrup, swinging it up and out of the way across his back. "But that's why I'm going."

"I-I don't understand?" She finally trotted in, leaving Yarrow to close the door again with a huff. Smithy was surprised when she picked up his lance and helped him mount it. He put a hoof on her shoulder and she gave him a nuzzle.

"Because yesterday something dangerous from out there came in here, mum. I'd rather risk one me stopping it out there than the whole village hiding from it." He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the unguarded back of his neck with a hoof. "Is that monologuing, technically?"

"Just a little bit, my brave little colt."

"Mum, I'm pretty sure I'm getting to be bigger than you."

"Your wearing boots. They add an inch." She looked him over again, and a fleeting terror flickered behind her eyes. She turned toward Kirin, who was slowly going about packing up their supplies. "Keep him safe?"

"Of course." The doe gave a roll of her shoulders that swung her strange crossbow around her saddle and in front of her, raising a firing bit to her muzzle as she checked the loading mechanism. "Such creatures we seek this evening are far beneath us. We will hold back significantly so that your son may learn by experience. That is the only way."

"Och, Ah'd say it would b'borin,' but nothin's ever borin' here in Eques'tra, innit?" Popo finished grinding a slight edge onto the bevels of his hammer and slung it across his back. "Got am' hamma, got ma Po'tins, got ma Paintball. Ah'm red t'go!"

A loud clack announced that Kirin had finished loading, and swung her weapon back to its stowage position. She nodded curtly to Smithy, who made a final adjustment to his two bags of healing Potions and gave a weak smile.

Yarrow wrapped him an a startling hug from the side. "I'd tell you to 'be safe,' but you won't be." She whispered, giving him a squeeze. "So… don't do anything stupid."

"O-ok." Smithy awkwardly patted her on the back, blushing furiously. Yarrow disentangled herself and went to sit by the fire without a second glance. His mother just stood where she had last, eyes downcast. Smithy but as much pep and cheer into his voice as he could. "We'll be back by sunset, I hope!"

The three hunters filed out the door, Popo the caribou in the front, Kirin the doe at the rear, and Smithy, the earth pony novice, in between.

The Giaprey where not hard to find...