He rode in the back of a carriage with two other ponies. Although he knew that his end was nigh, he kept his usual smirk. He knew no modesty, he considered himself one of the most likable ponies in the land. If only that skill could have saved him from this fate.
He was a royal blue unicorn with a offsetting gray mane. An oddly black mockingbird shone off of his flank. He always understood why it was a mockingbird, but the black was a mystery to him.
One of the ponies in the carriage with him was tugging at his hair. He wasn’t coping well with his future it seemed. The other was relaxed. A brown pegasus with his wings tied lest he attempted escape. He wore a sleeveless hide tunic. He was very well fit it seemed.
The unicorn figured he might as well chat before his end, so he addressed the pegasus, “So what’d you do to end up in this mess?”
He sat for a moment or two, contemplating whether or not to answer, it seemed. He finally looked up. “I’m the leader of a bandit clan. Crowe’s the name. This guy next to us killed his wife from what I heard the guards say. So what about you? You a killer too?”
“I was told I’m being executed for assassination of Chancellor Puddinghead’s daughter. In all reality it wasn’t me. I loved that mare with my entire heart. ‘Twas her cousin who laid her to her final rest. The Chancellor was never fond of me, so she took the word of her nephew over my own.”
Crowe just cracked up laughing. “No way, no pony is that good. She is way too good looking to get with a unicorn like you. You don’t even have money, let alone looks!”
Spearow’s heart cringed, but he brushed it off. The unicorn let out a casual chuckle. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment on my talking skills or an insult on my looks! How’d you know I have no money? I’m Spearow by the way.”
Crowe gave him an odd smile. Spearow could tell his charms were working on this pony. His trust was gained as easily as any other pony’s. “You get used to it. You can tell by the way a pony moves how much money they have. You can also tell their confidence, and you seem like one cocky pony, Spearow. I like that about you.”
The two continued to chat as the ride continued on its journey toward their end. It entered a forest of thick trees on the far side gallows stood.
“Listen; we’re going to get out of here.” Crowe was talking in a more hushed voice than before.
“Face it, Crowe. We’re finished. The least we can do is face it with some pride.” Spearow felt a cringe of fear in his heart. The reality of the situation just hit him.
Crowe turned Spearow’s head up with his hoof and pointed into the branches above. “You sure about that?” The silhouette of a pony hung from the trees. As the carriage neared, its hoof extended a dagger.
Crowe pulled Spearow close and in a flash action began. The silhouette fell from the tree and dug its dagger into the pony at the head of the carriage. Arrows flew past Spearow’s head hitting the driver and the other prisoner. Hollering came from the trees as ponies jump from their hiding spots at commenced combat with the soldiers.
“Took you boys long enough! I was getting tired of waiting! By the way, we have a guest!” Crowe yelled towards the attacking ponies.
“You’re just lucky we came to save your ass, yet again!” The bandits finished their slaughter and cut free the two remaining prisoners. Crowe flexed his wings. Although it had been years since the three pony races had merged, creating Equestria, it was still odd for Spearow to see a pegasus move its wings.
“You guys know you’d fall apart in a couple weeks if you didn’t have me around to tell you what to do.” He jumped into the air and used his freed wings to hang there. “We would better set out back home, eh? I’ve lost my sense of direction. Maddock, where are we?”
A gray pegasus pony stood within the small group of bandits. Her body bore scars that displayed her physique and fortitude. Her mane was long and blonde that, if not for her sullen look, would have made her seem playful. It appeared she had been the one hanging from the tree. A bow on her back and a dagger in its scabbard.
She spoke with an accent of the north. “The moon will rise over the land twice before our home is revealed. We must hunt for sustenance lest the grips of hunger drive us to bloodshed and cannibalism.”
She won over Spearow’s respect quickly. She seemed to be the kind of pony who could hanlde herself and she presented that same self proudly. He realized that if he wanted to continue with his life that he would have to make some adaptations. Survival would probably be a skill he would need to become adept in.
“Well then, we best make haste. Spearow, make sure to grab a weapon off of one of these guards. If you don’t mind it coming off a dead pony would can equip some armor too. There isn’t any heavy, but it’s better than nothing. Catch up to us when you are done looting.” The group followed Crowe as they started off into the forest.
Spearow wasn’t very comfortable with picking at the still-warm bodies of ponies, but he knew that it was another thing that he had to get used to unless he wanted to be caught by the guard again and executed.
He looked through the weapons and couldn’t decide what to take. They seemed to be made of iron mostly, ranging from swords, to maces, to bows. He used his magic to levitate each. None of them felt familiar to him. He almost nicked himself attempting to swing the sword. The mace fell and re-killed one of the ponies. He pulled an arrow back in the bow’s string and flung it towards a tree. It was better than he had expected. It didn’t hit the tree, but it had shot, which was much better than the results he had anticipated.
He pulled the armor of one of the ponies over my body. It consisted of leather pads tied tightly together with a strong string. It wouldn’t protect him well, but he could move easily. This was the first time in his life that he ever could be recognized as a threat. Though that perception would be misguided, for he was not skilled. If his friends could see him now, they would be shocked. He used to be a pony of respect before his reputation’s demise. Now he would work to earn it back, only in a manner that isn’t as conventional.
He started to run to catch up with the others. Thoughts went through his head. If you had asked him a week ago if he’d ever join up with a bandit clan, he would have called you crazy. Now he was running through the forest with a bow and a dagger. Ready to face what obstacles he may face. He wasn’t sure how he would take hunting and killing an animal. He didn’t know if it would bother him, or if he would show any mercy. It wasn’t a situation he had contemplated before now.
He made it up to the others. He figured it’d be best to make friends with the others lest they decide to turn on him. Of course he didn’t see the challenge in doing so. Most of them seemed to be simple minded. The telling of a simple joke would send them into fits of hysterical laughter. They were so simple minded that it took only that for Spearow to win their hearts. He quickly learned each of their names and had a basic idea of their personalities, which didn’t differ much.
Crowe and Maddock slowed to a halt in a tiny clearing. A large bouldery cliff sat on one end. The rest was surrounded by trees. Maddock spoke, “Colts, set up camp. Torig, you and your brother go hunting. Spearow, you’re coming with me to get some firewood.”
Spearow hadn’t expected her to address him, but he guessed he couldn’t just stand around and not be of use. So he followed her back into the woods.
They walked in silence until they were far away from the camp. They could have picked up much wood, but Maddock kept her pace. She spoke after a long distance had been covered. The sun was on the ridge the mountains. “You are not going to survive out here.”
Spearow was unsure if that was a threat or just an observation. He quickly decided it best to act casual. “What do you mean?”
“You are not going to survive the wilderness. You will die.” There was a pause. “You are weak. You have no skill with a weapon. You walk carelessly, broadcasting your movement. Out here you are nothing, but a piece of meat for the timberwolves. You will die.”
He became desperate. He stepped toward her harshly. “Isn’t there anyway I can prevent my death!?”
Maddock stood, looking into the forest thoughtfully. “You have hope in dark situations. Perhaps there is possibility. Your adaptability skills may be better forged compared to your dull survival skills. Time reveals all mysteries. You have never held a bow before, correct?”
Something flickered inside Spearow’s heart. “No, I haven’t.”
“Show me then. Draw the line upon your canvas. Release the art to end the span of the rabbit sitting beneath the quaker.”
Maddock’s eyes were laying on a large rabbit fifteen feet front of Spearow. He lifted the bow off his back, drawing an arrow. He held it near his face. Focusing on the rabbit, he aligned the arrow in a manner that he thought would strike the jack. He held his breath and steadied. He released the arrow and sent it on its journey through the air.
The bloody ear of a jack rabbit was nailed to the tree. Maddock drew her bow and quieted the fleeing animal’s pain. She turned back to Spearow. “Perhaps my statement regarding your talent with weapons was misplaced. You have potential. I must train you before you leave.”
Spearow was unaware that she knew he was leaving. “What makes you think I’m leaving?”
“You are not a bandit. Crowe cannot see ponies the way I can. The ability to analyze a pony is a gift. What Crowe knows is something that can be learned. I know you are a pony who seeks larger meaning than just gold. So it will not be long before your tail faces us.” The two stood in silence. “Tell me, what is it that you seek?”
Spearow thought for a long period of time. He didn’t have a real goal. The only thought that brought him pleasure thinking of was the thought of redeeming himself and bringing pride to his name. The thought surprised him. He had never held pride as something of importance, but now he wanted to make a name for himself. To not be known as the pony who murdered the Chancellor's daughter. So finally he answered, “Redemption.”
Out of his peripheral vision Spearow saw movement. Without thinking he turned quickly, drawing his bow. He fired at the figure. It fell. The stag had been struck in the heart. It died shortly after.
“Potential indeed.”
