My body was feeling its limits, my hooves sore from all the kicks I had delivered, my breaths fast and hard, sweat running down my face. Yet there my foe stood, as if none of my blows had even meant anything. The odds weren’t in my favor, I was running a deck stacked against me, I had no more chances on the roulette left.
At least, that’s how bad it would be if my opponent was anything other than a punching bag.
The locale: Canterlot Palace training room. The objective: kill time by keeping fit. The equipment here was state of the art, the best in Equestria, designed for the elite. But nothing could beat a good ol’ punching bag.
Hanging there, it swayed very slightly from my last blow I’d delivered. I took a deep breath and prepared to deliver another assault. I’d mix things up a little.
Galloping across the training mats, I charged at the bag, intent on sending a very hard punch its way. But, at the last minute I stopped, turning and skidding across the floor. My side came up to the bag and as I approached, I jutted out my hindleg. My hoof connected with the bag with a considerable amount of force, the bag flying back just as I jumped away in one fluid motion.
Not the strongest move but usually a good fake out. If your foe wasn’t quick enough to react, it always left you on better terms than them, even if your attack missed. Always having an out was very important in a fight and that move gave you just that. If only I’d invented the technique, I’d have named it the ‘Sweetie Step’.
“Agent Drops?” a voice came from behind me.
Yep. I’m a secret agent. Technically a monster hunter, really, but the secret agent moniker has a lot more class to it.
I turned, seeing one of the palace guards before me. “Am I needed?”
The guard nodded. “The Princess would see you right away.”
I kept my composure, nodding to the guard, but grinning all the way to my stomach inside. An audience with Celestia meant one of two things: delicious cake or a very important assignment.
Sometimes it was both.
It didn’t take me long to look presentable for the Princess. Part of training involved a lot of standard procedure, including how to get into a combat-ready state for action quickly and effectively. After doing it over a hundred times, it does get boring but eventually you come to realize that the benefits outweigh your personal annoyances. Certainly sharpens up your attitude too, which was far from unwelcome.
I followed the guard through the palace’s long halls, until we came up to the imposing set of doors leading to the throne room.
The guard held up a hoof for me to wait, then entered the room. He came back a few moments later, stepping aside. “The Princess will see you now.”
I resisted the urge to paint a smirk on my lips. He looked new, that uncertain edge about him but nevertheless a staunch willingness to perform his duty to the best. A rookie. “I know.” I’d danced this dance before.
I entered to see Celestia walking toward me instead of sitting on her throne. She stepped with a serene grace, her mane billowing without so much of a wind in the room. I could look her in the eyes, not as an equal, but as somepony I could put my faith, trust and service to. Despite the fact that she was likely going to send me on a no doubt dangerous task, I couldn’t help but feel relaxed in her presence.
I knelt to her out of courtesy, then business began.
“Agent Sweetie Drops,” she said.
“Princess,” I replied.
“Tea, before we begin?”
I smiled and nodded at her. “Please.”
Celestia waved over a guard, relaying our usual orders. She always had an herbal remedy, from which region I’d never know. I myself preferred the bog standard stuff, with two sugars and milk.
When tea arrived we have some very brief smalltalk; Celestia liked to keep an eye over her agents. I couldn’t blame her for that, especially when it didn’t give off a threatening vibe either.
Celestia set her cup down for a guard to take it away. Her horn glowed and before us, a map of Equestria was magically sprawled out over the floor. Our viewpoint zoomed over the land, until we reached a town in the south. My eyes briefly glanced over to nearby Dodge Junction but they focused on the target soon enough.
“You’re familiar with Appleloosa, I assume?” Celestia asked.
I nodded. Apparently one of the Apple family had decided to set up an orchard right out in the desert. One might think it was an odd choice, but I had to admire the tenacity of the idea. That said, I may have been biased. My home town of Dodge Junction was nearby, a place I imagined Appleloosa would quickly turn into.
Or should, as the case was. I kept alert—if Celestia had drawn my attention here, then clearly something was bothering the settlers.
“We’ve had reports of something rather strange happening to the apple trees growing there,” Celestia said, pacing around the map. The view zoomed in, so we could see the town proper. It was remarkably detailed, with ponies trotting around and new buildings still being erected.
My attention, however, was drawn to the orchard itself. Row upon row of trees had already been planted and they looked healthy, standing tall. There was just one problem.
These were pumpkin trees. Not apples.
“Pumpkins?” I asked incredulously.
“Pumpkins,” Celestia replied. “It’s got the settlers, for lack of a better word, unsettled. They were promised a rich bounty of apples from the family and now they’re getting pumpkins. I don’t suspect foul play but something is certainly going on.”
I racked my brain, trying to come up with the creature responsible for this.
There were many dangerous beasts lurking about the lands of Equestria. In the earliest of years of ponykind, our story was one of survival. Creatures stalked our every step, looking for an easy meal. Celestia has never told me but legends say she was instrumental in beating back the monsters that plagued us, leading the way to a new age in pony history. One of prosperity, security and happiness. As we’ve expanded however, it’s become harder and harder for her to keep check of the more deadly beasts…
That’s where I step in. Secret Agent Sweetie Drops, a top class Canterlot monster hunter, at your service. I’m part of a the Canterlot Monster Hunting Agency. A lackluster name, maybe, but wrangling dragons leaves little time for pleasantries.
Wherever monsters seek to hurt our brothers and sisters, we’ll be there. And right then, the ponies of Appleloosa needed me if they were ever to survive in the harsh desert. I knew this well, from experience.
“I’ll find my shades,” I told Celestia, shooting her a confident smirk.
“You know what to do,” she said, turning around and leaving me to my task.
It seemed simple. Find out what was going on and put it an end to it. I may have not known the exact cause behind it specifically but it had to be plant-based. Plant-based monsters usually made for weak fights.
Yet as I walked out of the throne room, my head held high, my movements spurred by purpose, I had forgotten one vital thing.
This job is never simple.
My first job was to pay the good doctor a visit. An agent is only as good as their gear. Wits and strength only get you so far when a manticore is looking to tear out your throat.
Dr. Hooves was an unassuming stallion that always spent too much time fussing over his bowtie. I wasn’t even sure if he was an actual doctor or not but if I ever told him that, he’d probably harp on about stones in glass houses—‘You’re an agent of Celestia, not a secret agent!’
Getting to him involved a bit of a walk to the castle. Inconveniently, he had decided to set up shop on the lower levels of the castle. Perhaps he liked the quiet, but his location was too close to the dungeons for my liking.
I stepped into his workshop and, as usual, I was greeted by a mess. Spare parts, specks of oil and odd looking gadgets were on rows of tables, all in a clutter. Hooves himself was in the midst of tinkering away with some device, wearing some zany looking goggles that made one eye look much bigger than the others.
I rarely asked.
“What’s up, Doc?” I asked him, smiling sweetly.
He gasped, the strange device nearly slipping out of his hooves. It was impressive really how quickly yet so delicately he could move.
“Careful! Easy, easy…” The device firmly gripped, his gently put it on the table, breathing deeply. “There. Safe.”
I stood back and let him have his little moment.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned to me, frowning ever so slightly. “Really, Agent Drops, you should be more careful around my lab.”
I glanced to the messy tables. “Maybe if you took more care of your ‘lab’...”
Hooves waved a hoof dismissively. “Yes yes, as you tell me every time. In any case, how are you?”
“Eager but in a little rush; got another job to do,” I said.
Hooves shook his head, muttering, “Always so busy, Sweetie. We rarely get the chance to chat like normal ponies! When was the last time we had such a conversation?”
I thought about it, rubbing my chin. “I can’t recall. But in my defense, you’re usually locked away in here.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m against a visit from a friend.” He drew a line in the air. “Business first then, as usual. Where are you headed?”
“Appleloosa. I’m not sure what’s stirring up a ruckus down there but I think it’s plant-based.” I shrugged at him. “Let’s go with ‘better safe than sorry’ gear.”
“Right, right.” Hooves trotted to the end of the room, a series of lockers standing against the wall. Each of them was securely locked, containing the agents’ favorite gadgets and weapons of choice.
He walked up to mine, indistinguishable from the rest and opened it up with a code. Only Hooves knew the code to every locker and every agent only knew their own. The locker door swung open and immediately I grabbed my trademark shades.
Hooves merely rolled his eyes as I put them on. “Must you wear them everywhere you go?”
“I’m going out into a desert, of course I need them this time.” But even if I was going to the Frozen North, I’d bring them along.
See, the shades were more than just maintaining an image—even if that was important too—they gave your eyes protection from a manner of nasty things. Monsters that can spit acid in your eyes, ones that can generate an intense amount of light to blind you and so on. For the cleverer foes, ones with pony-like intelligence or more, the shades made my expressions much harder to read and that could make all the difference in a fight. A lot of creatures liked to rely on their fearsome reputation or size to cower their opponents into submission. So on occasion, my shades really threw them off their game. Stylish and versatile, the best of both worlds.
Next, I grabbed my next important tool: my trusty grappling hook.
Hooves sighed as I pulled it out of the locker. “Really, no desire for experimenting.”
“If it ain’t broke, Doc,” I replied, slinging it over my shoulder.
Like my shades, the grappling hook was a solid all-round tool. It’s saved my candy flank more times than I can count, whether it was for scaling an incline, pulling something towards me, or even pinning down a monster.
With my old reliables acquired, I looked at Hooves. “Alright, what do you have for me?”
He grinned, trotting away for a moment, only to come back with a small box. Placing it on a table, he opened it up and I could see a small amount of light shine onto his smiling face. “Gems!”
I perked a brow, stepping closer. “Any new ones?”
In a dramatic display, Hooves shoot a hoof up in the air, holding what appeared to be a fiery red gem. “Combustible gems!”
I glanced up at the gem, then back to Hooves. “They set things on fire, don’t they?”
He blinked, sheepishly lowering his foreleg. “Well, yes.”
“Could be useful. Toss a few in,” I replied, giving him a smirk.
Nodding, he collected a small pouch and carefully placed the gems inside.
Gems were just one of the magical devices we agents used to give us the edge. Not all of us could be born unicorns, but if you ask me the life of a unicorn is boring anyway. Gems were essentially just stones magically enchanted to produce an effect. The way you activated them varied but for my part, most of the gems I used merely had to be thrown at something really hard to get them to work.
For example…
“Don’t forget thunderflash gems too, Doc,” I told him.
“On it!”
When thrown at something, thunderflash gems would erupt in a dazzling display of light and sound. For many monsters, who had enhanced senses to hunt more efficiently, such a maneuver completely overwhelmed them. It was both useful for attacking or escaping.
That said, gems still needed to be enchanted by a unicorn in the first place. I had no idea who Hooves used for that. Fleur De Lis never struck me as the type of the unicorn to be interested in such a craft and Donut ‘Pony’ Joe was always too busy researching and fighting monsters themselves.
“The usual potions too, I assume?” Hooves asked, already walking over to his chemistry set up, things still bubbling away.
I nodded once. “Obviously.” Do I really need to explain what potions are, too?
Hooves took some flasks, stuffing them into some cases to then be stuffed in the bag. “Is that everything?”
I did a quick headcount of my supplies. Everything was prepared, except for one thing. It nagged at me, itching my foreleg…
“My watch,” I said, trying to peer around for it, “have you fixed that yet?”
“After much effort, yes.” Hooves groaned, retrieving a small box. Inside, my watch, which I promptly equipped. “Please, remind me just how it malfunctioned?”
“Faerie dragons,” I spoke through gritted teeth, as I adjusted the watch’s strap. “They can really ruin your day, if they want to.”
The less I spoke about those annoying pests, the better. The faerie dragons… their cuteness is their strength and your weakness. Also in their strengths included speed, intelligence and surprisingly powerful magic. So much so it broke the watch. Not that they were afraid of getting bloody though; I still had a neck cramp days after the encounter when one of them tried to rip my head from my shoulders.
As for the watch, it not only told time, it read magic levels in an area around me. Unicorns could do the same, only innately, but earth ponies like myself had to resort to a more technological means. I had no idea how the watch was made, although I’d heard a pretty silly rumor that it’s inside parts were made out of unicorn horn.
“I… wouldn’t know,” Hooves said.
“It’s for the best.” Gathering up my things and giving them a quick double check too, I prepared to leave. “Thanks for the gear as always, Doc.”
“Happy to help,” he replied, not looking at me. He was frowning, rubbing his chin in thought. A typical pose from him. “Appleloosa… that’s near Dodge Junction, yes? Will you give it a visit while you’re down there?”
I stopped. “If time lets me.” I shrugged, then went on my way. All set for my task, the only thing left was to actually get there.
Time to get pedestrian.
It’s an odd feeling, to be sat on a public train carrying equipment that could severely injure or outright kill one of the ponies I was sat close to. Not that I would ever seriously think about it, obviously, but if it weren’t for my shades helping ward curious ponies off, I’d get asked some very awkward questions.
The journey was uneventful, as these things tend to be, especially when travelling alone. So I took the time to have a nap, save whatever energy I could for the mission ahead. To my chagrin it did mean I missed the food cart, but I could eat later.
Finally, after some hours, the train pulled into Appleloosa’s station. The first thing I did after stepping out was to take a deep breath of that open air. Equestria’s wild south had a very distinct smell to it, though it was hard to describe. Rough but warm, if that makes sense at all.
It was when I stepped on solid ground that the familiar feelings of home rushed through me. That feeling of the sun-baked dust in between your hooves and the warm heat bearing down on your back, accompanied by that cool breeze that went through your mane…
I had no time to get nostalgic though. First things first: find the authority figure and gather as much information about the situation as I can. Only a fool charges into battle unprepared and, despite what Dr. Hooves would say, I didn’t get into my position by being a fool.
Gazing around, I could see the main buildings had already been completed. The tavern, shops, a few houses and the sheriff’s office had been fully built, save for a few exterior details here and there. Around them, however, were still skeletal frames of new residences, roughened and toughened looking ponies working on them.
There was little time for chit-chat here, ponies going to and fro without stopping. The night hadn’t even started though, which was when I suspected socializing began.
Given the Sheriff’s place was complete, I made my way to the building. On approach, I could see the stallion himself, sitting on a chair in front, wearing a classic stetson. He kept a watchful eye over his flock, the gaze of a tempered pony, one who had seen action before. It was a look I knew well. His, however, seemed more weary than most.
As I approached he leaned back, his chair going back onto two legs. He silently took me in, then nodded. “You look like the important type.”
“Agent Sweetie Drops,” I told him, getting the introductions out of the way efficiently. “I heard you have an issue with your apple trees?”
“Sheriff Silverstar,” he replied, getting off his chair and extending his hoof. I found his grip to be strong and reliable. “Yeah, we do. It’s the dangest thing.”
“Pumpkin trees, huh?”
He nodded. “Sure are. Not that the town is going to complain about food but Braeburn, bless his soul, he don’t have a clue about anything when it comes to pumpkins.”
“Braeburn’s the farmhand?” I asked.
Silverstaff got off the porch, gesturing for me to follow. “He was the one that made the move, actually. He’s a good colt, if sometimes a little too excitable. It’s probably a good thing he wasn’t the one to greet you.”
I don’t think I would’ve minded a warm welcome, as long as it didn’t overstay; I had a job to do. “Was he the first to notice the problem?”
“That he was, ma’am,” Silverstaff said, tipping his hat to a local as we passed. “Said a few trees were affected after one night. Then more the next. On the third, we stayed watch over the orchard.” He narrowed his eyes, speaking a bit more tersely. “We definitely saw movement, so we just assumed it was a prankster playing a big ol’ joke on us.”
I held back a sigh. “Guess it isn’t then.”
“Nope. From the looks of things, it’s something—” He paused, looking at a stallion resting on a keg. The contents of it, cider I guessed, were spilling out onto the sandy ground. The stallion himself was swaying, his eyes unfocused and bloodshot.
Silverstar frowned, then gazed around, raising his voice, “Can somepony help this drunkard out here?! I’ll sort him out when I get the chance.”
A few nearby townsfolk heard his command and immediately went to the drunk, helping him up and carrying him away.
The sheriff lowered his hat, masking what I guessed was embarrassment. “Mighty sorry about that. The cider Braeburn makes is the best around.”
“Not a problem, Sheriff,” I replied. “But I need to know what exactly do you think is causing this pumpkin issue.”
Even if his hat masked his face, it couldn’t mask a gulp of fear that trailed down his throat. “It’s big.” He looked towards me, his moustache hiding his grimace somewhat. “You’re probably not going to like it, not one bit.”
I grinned, lowering my shades so I could look him fiercely in the eyes. “Try me.”
It didn’t take long for him to break the gaze. “If you say so, ma’am.”
We came up to a ridge that overlooked the whole orchard. Most of the trees were already fully grown, save for a couple of rows that just had saplings, with fencing guarding them. There were pumpkins hanging off all the adult trees. Silverstar just shook his head at the sight.
“Braeburn’s probably down there. Watching that… thing,” he said, gritting his teeth.
“Luckily I’m an expert at combating ‘things’ and ‘stuff’,” I assured him, leading the way down into the orchard. Even if I wasn’t going to let the Sheriff do any fighting, confidence goes a long way to make ponies feel better.
We made our way to the very edge of the orchard, where a stallion wearing a stetson like the Sheriff’s stood, his eyes focused intently on the intruder in his land. I followed his gaze. Sometimes, you just have to whistle at the things you see.
Just taller than the apple trees that surrounded us, its head was indeed a pumpkin. Or more akin to a jack-o-lantern, with parts cut out to resemble intimidating eye sockets and a jagged, toothy grin. It’s body was a twisted amalgamation of tough looking roots and bark, which had entangled together to resemble the build of a minotaur. The only difference were a lack of tail and instead of hooves or stubby fingers, it had long, spindly looking root claws on its appendages.
For the moment, it seemed quite docile, taking to the few apple trees that could still actually be called such. Silverstar and I went up to the farm pony and I broke the silence, “So, that’s your troublemaker?”
The stallion gave me a small nod. “Yes, ma’am. Been a darn nuisance for a couple days now but…” He sighed, taking off his hat. “I’m afraid we just don’t have the guts or power to take that thing on.”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said, holding out a hoof for him. “Agent Sweetie Drops.”
“Braeburn,” he said, shaking it. His grip felt weaker than the Sheriff’s, probably due to being out here watching the pumpkin monster all day. “Braeburn Apple.”
“Good name, Braeburn. Nice to meet you.” I stepped forward, away from the pair of them. “Your part’s over now, colts. I’ll handle the rest.”
“You kiddin’?!” Braeburn rushed up in front of me, pointing a hoof at the beast. “You taking on that thing?! Alone?!”
“Braeburn,” the Sheriff said, his voice commanding the farmer’s attention. “She’s an agent, probably sent from Celestia herself. If she thinks she can take on our problem, then let her.”
“But what if she can’t?” Braeburn asked.
I flicked my ear a little. “Doesn’t look like the strongest foe I’ve grappled with. If anything does go wrong, run for help.”
Now Silverstar? Perhaps he had the skills to help me in this battle if, if, I made a fatal error. But Braeburn? Looking at him, he just had too much untempered spark. Full of spirit, yet lacking in substance. I didn’t want to get the two of them hurt, especially Braeburn. They didn’t deserve that.
“Luck to you, Agent,” the Sheriff said.
I gave him a firm nod. “Agents don’t need luck.”
Strictly that wasn’t really true. I can remember a few times where luck came in to save the day but saying ‘yeah, I’ll need that luck thank you’ really does dampen the tough mare persona.
Before I took on the beast, I checked my watch. Since it measured both time and magic, it looked a little complex to the average pony. Thankfully I only needed a quick glance. A small hand of it was twitching right near quarter past. That was good. The monster’s magic levels were low enough that it probably only had its innate magic—it probably wasn’t summoned or empowered by some warlock. If that had been the case, I definitely would have needed back up.
Regardless, it helped to be prepared. So into my bag I went, getting out a vial of clear red liquid. Grimacing, I took off the cap—strength potions weren’t known for their tastes. Throwing my head back, I downed its contents, shivering as it went down my throat, burning it along the way.
A couple of moments later, the world seemed to flash once. The effects of the potion were taking effect. It’s tricky to describe and it’ll definitely sound weird but for the briefest of moments, you can feel blood flowing around your body as the magical effects of the brew seeped into your bloodstream. My heart rate quickened, drumming in my ears, as did my breathing. Finally, my muscles tensed up, geared for a fight.
To say it was a strength potion was a bit of a lie, I suppose. All it did was remove the limitations your body placed on itself, so that your body exerted itself the hardest it could. It wasn’t without risk, clearly, but us agents had been well trained in learning our own strengths, weaknesses and limitations.
Breathing like a dang minotaur, I was ready. Time to shine.
I circled around the pumpkin beast, around its back. Considering we were on the outskirts of the orchard, I wanted to fight the monster on my terms. Namely, to fight without damaging any of the apple trees.
I took my grapple hook off my shoulder, then spun it about by the rope. Glaring at my prey, the thing hadn’t even taken notice of me. I grinned.
That’d change soon.
I thrust my hoof out, throwing the hook right for the terror. It flew into the air like a speeding bolt and embedded itself in the back of the pumpkin’s ‘head’. It flinched at the contact but I wasn’t prepared to let it react, pulling down on the rope with all of my might.
With a roar, the beast got pulled around by my strength and it had to place its rooty hands down on the ground to support itself. I locked eyes with it, baring my teeth. Step one: grab its attention. Complete.
Now I had to subdue it. I gave the rope a sharp tug, which almost brought the monster to the ground entirely. Obviously the thing was persistent, digging its claws into the ground. I spat at the ground; I’d need the whole thing on the floor before me if I was going to go in for a secured kill.
Another tug and it lost more ground, its head hovering closer to the dirt. It let out a low rumble, bits of debris and decaying plant matter flaking off its huge mass. It shuddered, steadfast in its defiance.
This was starting to look like a stalemate. Neither of us were giving any ground but my hooves were beginning to hurt from grinding into the dust. I had to back off before the potion’s effects wore off and think of a new plan of attack.
It was a good thing I was in a planning state. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the earth quickly rumbling towards me. Like something was burrowing right for me. It was fast, faster than a manticore pursuing its next meal.
Reluctantly I let go and stepped back, right as the burrowing was right underneath me. A massive root struck up from the ground, right in front of my eyes. It was a total blur, the effect of its eruption so great it threw me off my balance, sending me tumbling onto my back.
Just as it came up from the earth, it went back down again towards its host. I could see the monster raising itself, one of its claws de-extending itself, like a rubber band. So, it could extend parts of its body to deliver lethal attacks and it seemed to have a capacity for digging with its limbs. Good to know, I guessed.
The grapple hook was still there, the rope uselessly hanging off the creature. It reached up around the back of its head and with a sharp pull, ripped the hook out from its pumpkin head. Juice and small chunks of the fruit flew into the air, the beast letting out a huge, pained roar.
It tossed the hook right for me. Such a predictable maneuver was easily dodged by me rolling to the side and getting onto my hooves in a matter of a few seconds. It was a good thing it missed too; the hook had left a small crater in its wake.
So, my advantage had been lost. Objectively though, I wasn’t in a losing position. I had sustained no injuries, while the monster already had. Plus, the effects of the potion were still running through my body. I had time to spare.
In situations like this, it was usually better to let your opponent strike. Especially when they more than doubled your size. Even the biggest foes could fall like dominos when their mistakes were exploited. Actually, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. The inherent nature of the monster made it easy to take advantage of.
It charged for me and I read it like an open book: it's right limb was slightly raised, meaning it was going to strike with that one first. Sure enough, I was right and a few metres before it reached me it extended that limb.
I hopped back with ease, the most dangerous part of the strike being the debris it kicked up from smashing into the ground. Luckily, my shades kept my eyes safe from any dust and stones.
As soon as my hooves touched the ground, I surged forward, hopping directly onto the monster’s limb before it could react. It didn’t approve of my touch and ripped its claw from the ground, shaking its limb wildly in an attempt to throw me off.
The wind raced past my mane, no doubt making a mess of it, and I gritted my teeth, my hooves almost hurting as I kept my grip on the monster’s arm. Its rooty composition meant that its limb was merely a series of useful handles I could use as leverage. Despite the chaos of my situation, I counted a slow rhythm in my head and used that to carefully scale my foe.
The monster spun around now, the world around me a complete blur. Yet my senses were sharp as ever. I continued to climb, my hooves aching from how hard I was holding on. Eventually I reached the beast’s shoulders, if you could call them that. It’s pumpkin head was within leg’s reach, so I did the only thing I deemed suitable.
I punched that monster in the face.
My hoof impacted with fruit so soft, it genuinely felt like flesh. Juice and chunks flew everywhere from the impact and the monster seemed to scream in pain, stopping all of its manic flailing. I grinned and wound up another punch.
Then something wrapped around my stomach and clenched down, squeezing all the breath out of me.
A single vine had sprung from the creature and wrapped itself around my barrel. I tried to breathe but all that came out were choked coughs. Like a doll, it picked me up and lifted me in front of its head.
All I remember next came in the form of still shots. The hateful glare of my foe, one side of its head completely caved in. Then there was something small striking against my forehead. On contact, the whole of my being reeled in pain. A shiver went down my spine, my head clouded by ache.
Then at some point I hit the ground, thrown like trash. There was no theatrics. My body didn’t bounce along the ground, nor did I form a crater. I just impacted against the ground, my whole body crying out in pain.
I tried to get back up and keep fighting but my body just wasn’t having it. The attack was enough to bring me out of the potion’s fervor and an overwhelming sense of disappointment flowed over me. I didn’t need to see the monster to know that I had failed. It’s retreating footsteps were like drums in my ears, beating over and over again, fading out.
Somepony was standing over me. I couldn’t tell who. Braeburn, maybe? Both of them wore hats and my vision was too blurred to define much. My world was spinning, pockets of dark appearing at the edges of my vision but I was able to catch a few snippets before completely passing out.
“Is she alright?!” That was Braeburn, I think. The Sheriff didn’t seem to be one for dramatics. I don’t think he even replied to the question.
Braeburn got closer to me, then stumbled back almost immediately. “Is that—don’t tell me that’s what I think it is!” he stammered, pointing at me.
Another pony entered my sight now. The Sheriff, no doubt. A deep rumble came from him. “Afraid so.”
“Oh no. No no no no no,” Braeburn repeated to himself, pacing out of my vision. “This can’t happen again!”
“Now hold on, son,” Silverstar barked. “It ain’t over for her yet. We’ll take her back to my office, patch her up, and see if she knows how to get rid of it.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
My grip on consciousness was slipping. Perhaps I missed a sentence or two. All I know there was a long silence before I heard one last thing from the Sheriff.
“Have faith.”
I couldn’t hold on any longer. Darkness overwhelmed me. I was out of action.
