She awoke to the sound of the howling wind. Startled, and a little scared, she stuck her head out from beneath the somewhat rough and scratchy blanket. The cabin was dim and firelight caused the shadows on the walls to do a crazy, delirious dance. Malcanus was standing in the corner, looking at her book.

“We have a blizzard coming in,” Malcanus said in a low voice. “We’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.” He closed the book and then continued, “Lots of new entries. You’ve made friends. Felt empathy. You comforted another that was weaker than you. That entry was a little strange, I’ll admit. You have the trust of another.”

Blinking, it took several seconds before her eyes adjusted to the dim, flickering light. There was a gurgle in her guts, and she knew right away that it wasn’t just hunger she felt. She let out a whimper and saw Malcanus’ ears perk up.

“I hear it. It’s gonna be a rough walk to the outhouses and it’s gonna be cold. Hang on to my tail and I’ll lead you along so you won’t get lost in the snow. You won’t be able to see a foot beyond your nose.”

Still sleepy, it took her a moment to process his words. Outhouses. Yes she remembered what those were. Freckle Speckle called them shit shacks. And no matter how interesting it might be, one did not slither through the hole and down into the darkened depths below. Malcanus had made that quite clear.

The howling wind made the whole cabin creak and she remained beneath the blanket, her body curled up and warm. The bed she lay in was a thick mattress stuffed with straw, the stuff that food ate. She wondered if she could take the heavy blanket with her. Malcanus didn’t need a blanket, or so he claimed, because he stood next to the fire while he slept. She had seen him sleeping, he slept with his head tucked back beneath one membranous wing while standing on two legs; one front leg and one hind leg. The other two legs would be tucked against his body.

Uncoiling, she slid the bulk of her body out of the bed and set her lion’s paw upon the floor. The floor was cold. She felt the sensation with a keen intensity that made every muscle in her body tense. Her body was still getting used to sensations and her mind reeled, overwhelmed by sensory input. After a second, her brain having processed the feeling of placing a foot that had just been in a warm bed down upon a freezing cold floor, she responded the only way she knew how.

She let out a keening wail and jerked her whole body back beneath the blanket. She put her paw against her belly, but that was a mistake. Her paw, even though it had only touched the wooden floor for but a moment, was like ice. She let out another warbling cry and she heard Malcanus laughing.

He was laughing at her. She gave him a sulky look as she peered out from beneath the blanket. His whole body shook with laughter and his wings flapped against his sides. It wasn’t funny. She snorted, sending curls of smoke out of her snort holes, and decided that having to void the body’s waste was the worst part of living. She didn’t like it, not one bit. The body suffered all sorts of discomforts and humiliations, but this was the worst.

“Come on, let’s take care of this before you have an accident,” Malcanus said in a patient voice as he continued to chuckle.

It was difficult to see in the swirling snow. She snapped at the falling flakes, trying to eat them, and her mismatched feet crunched through the glaze of ice that had formed over the old snow. There were ropes to help aid ponies along from one place to another, and she could see blazing lights moving about which somehow she knew to be magic.

The shit shacks would be cold and she did not look forwards to sitting on the wooden plank with the hole cut in the middle. She wondered if she could squat over the top of it somehow. If she did that, she worried that she might miss, and then Malcanus might scold her.

Scolding was bad and she wanted to avoid it.

Malcanus opened the door for her and she hurried inside, eager to get this over with. She didn’t like gurgly insides, not at all, and last night, after drinking all of the soap, she had suffered dire consequences. Freckle Speckle had come inside of the outhouse with her and sat with her while her insides all squirted out.

Hunger gnawed at her insides and she hoped that there would be food after this.

Just as she stepped out of the door, a bell began ringing. She heard Malcanus snarl and watched as his wings unfurled. The ringing bell filled her ears and made her feel a bit panicky. She heard cries all around her, and the bright lights of unicorn magic grew ever brighter.

It was hard to tell, but it seemed as though the blizzard was retreating. There was a lot less snow in the air and it was easier to see. It was easier to hear too. She heard howling, but it wasn’t the wind. It was something else, something that made her spine tingle and her blood sing.

“You!” Malcanus barked. “You stay right here and don’t you move! I mean it! If you move, no treats for you!”

She nodded and watched as Malcanus took off. She wondered how well he could see and how he could fly in this weather. Terrified, she stood by the row of outhouses, her body stinging from the icy air. She heard cries, screams, and more howling. She sniffed and her keen senses caught a whiff of blood, even with the snow storm and the wind. She turned her head, sniffing, and she heard growling. It was faint, any other creature might not have heard it, but she was not like other creatures, she was tiufel spawn.

A supernatural creature, she had other senses as well. She felt the pain of another, it was like smelling food, it made her whole body jerk and quiver. She felt fear, terror, it was the fear of another, it was mortal fear, the fear of death. The sensation proved to be too much to resist.

Her body whompled through the thick powder, moving with an odd leaping six-legged gait. She ignored her nose and her eyesight and focused upon her other senses. As she grew closer, the feeling of pain grew worse, the sensation of fear grew stronger.

Like an inchworm, she bounded through the snow, close to something called a greenhouse, and she moved between it and a row of cabins. She paused, sniffed, and looked down. Bright red droplets of crimson could be seen in the snow, and the signs of struggle. Some of the glass of the greenhouse was broken.

Picking up the pace, she focused on her senses, now using all of them, and her instincts guided her along. Something else was hunting her delicious not-foods, the ponies. Her wings flared out from her sides and the spines along her back extended, thickened, and grew hard.

They were close…

With a fluid leap, she bounded to the roof of a cabin, flapping her mismatched wings, and she had a good look. It was difficult to see, but she saw several white creatures. One of them had a pony which they dragged along. The pony was still alive, bloodied, feeble, and still kicking. The creature had it by the neck. The pony had been chewed on a bit, but it was still alive, and this made her feel relieved in a way that she could not even begin to understand at the moment.

With a roar, she lept from the roof, front talons extended, and her mouth wide open. With her wings out, she glided through the air in very much the same manner as a catapulted boulder flew. She smashed into one of the strange shaggy creatures, it was white, quadrupedal, and had ferocious fangs that were almost, but not quite, as ferocious as hers.

Ramming her head down, she savaged one of the hunters, burying her teeth into his back. She felt bones snapping beneath the fury of her jaws, and she raked her claws into his flesh. Another creature approached and opened his mouth. A storm of ice came billowing out and it bit into her flesh like invisible teeth. Her joints grew stiff and pain wracked her body. Even worse, the blast of cold seemed to be healing the creature she had mauled. She could see its wounds closing up right before her eyes.

The others moved to attack her and her only consolation was that the pony had been dropped in the snow. She felt them biting her, savaging her, chewing off bits of her flesh. They bit down on legs, trying to cripple her, immobilise her, they pulled and tugged in all directions. She belched up a gout of flame and set one of them on fire. As it burned, another creature breathed out a cloud of ice and the flames vanished. The burnt skin began to heal right away.

One latched onto her neck and began to worry the taut skin of her throat. She twisted and thrashed her body around, trying to fight them, she whipped them with her tail, but they were biting that too. In the corners of her vision, she saw the bloodied pony in the snow escaping. She felt good about that, and she wanted to make certain that the pony managed to get away, knowing it would make Malcanus happy.

It was time to give the creatures trying to rip her apart something to eat. She tore a foreleg free and using her talon-thumb, she clawed open her own guts, causing her entrails to spill out onto the snow in a steaming pile. Her strength fled from her and she could feel them snapping and biting her, trying to get tasty bits. One was rooting around in her now hollowed abdomen. She felt something tugging on her lungs from the inside and realised it was going for the tastiest, tenderest treat of all, her heart.

With the last of her strength, she reached out with her talons and eviscerated the creature pulling her heart out of her chest. Her vision failed, going dark, and all sensation left her body. It was now impossible breathe, but her brain demanded that she try. Her body needed air. Snow swirled all around her, and the last thing she heard was the sound of something feasting on her own guts.

The bed was warm. She flexed and curled her various toes and talons, delighting in the sensation of having them. Her tail was folded up against her belly to keep it warm. She was hungry, so very hungry, and through her snort holes, she could smell food. Warm, salty, greasy food. She began to drool.

“I think she’s waking up.”

“How, Malcanus… how is this possible? There was almost nothing left of her, just a few scraps… and a puddle of blood in the snow… how…”

Yawning, she poked her head out from beneath the blanket. Her mind felt scrambled, like she had been having bad dreams. She looked at the others standing around her. They looked scared, worried, especially Freckle Speckle. She sniffed and thought about the bloodied pony in the snow. She had trouble remembering what had just happened.

“That was a very brave thing that you did,” Malcanus said in a low, solemn baritone. “Your flesh and blood poisoned them. Killed them.” He cleared his throat. “The frost wolves are getting smarter and more desperate. They attacked us from multiple directions this time. If you hadn’t’ve done what you done, poor Mustard would be a meal and I would have lost one of my sheep for the first time ever.”

Starving, almost crazed with hunger, her eyes fell upon the steaming bowl on the table. She licked her lips, hopeful for food. She glanced at Malcanus and let out a whimper. She needed food—the scent of Freckle Speckle was driving her crazy, and she couldn’t eat Freckle Speckle. That would be wrong. Even in her hunger maddened state, she still had a glimmering of right and wrong.

“We killed a chicken for you and made you some soup. She was old and didn’t lay eggs anymore. Might be a little tough, but I don’t think you’ll mind.” Malcanus gestured at the table with his wing, and stepped aside as the she-demon slithered out of bed. “There’s carrots, celery, and rice in the soup. Eat up, you need it after what you went through, and there’s a whole lot more of it.” As he spoke, she fell upon the soup bowl began slurping it up.

“They ate her heart, Malcanus, how is she alive?” Freckle asked in a low whisper.

“She’s a demon, Freckle—”

“Don’t say that!” Freckle snapped. “Demons don’t save ponies! Whatever she is, I refuse to believe that she’s a demon. She’s… she’s… she is something else!” Freckle Speckle stood there, stammering, struggling for words for a moment, and then gave up. She stood silent, turned her head, and watched as the creature she refused to believe was a demon gobbled down soup.

“But she is.” Malcanus words were soft and gentle.

“Malcanus, you bit her… how did you not die?” Freckle looked up at the much larger stallion that towered over her and her ears pinned back against her head, vanishing beneath her frizzy mane.

“I have a resistance to her poison.” He shook his head. “But not immunity. My dragon blood offers me much protection. My kind suffers for battling her kind though. It takes a toll on us. Leaves scars on the mind and soul.”

“I don’t understand.” Freckle’s eyes misted over. “How can she be what she is and comfort me when I was sad? Why would she give so much of herself for the life of another? After all these years, after all this time spent soul searching in this place, I thought I understood the nature of good and evil.”

“Whatever can change the nature of a pony can also change the nature of a demon, it seems.” Malcanus let out a snort and his ears perked as the wind howled outside. “She’s like us.” He pointed to her cutie mark, the book upon her hind hips. He then pointed to Freckle Speckle’s cutie mark, a bar of soap and some bubbles. Turning his head, he looked at his own cutie mark… a constellation of stars known as the Shepherd’s Crook. He turned his attention back to Freckle Speckle.

“I don’t know what can change the nature of a pony or a demon though. I just know that we make the choices that determine our lives and live out our lives with the consequences of those choices. Perhaps Princess Cadance can tell us more when she arrives.” Malcanus stepped around the table to refill the now empty soup bowl and patted the whimpering she-demon on the head.

Freckle nodded. “I wish I understood…”

Author's Note

With the coming of Cadance, there will be some answers...