Chapter one

Your nose wrinkles at the smell of a freshly skinned carcass, yet you continue unimpeded with knife and sleight of hand.

You’ve done this a thousand times before. Begin to skin the thing, separate the edible parts from the waste, throw said waste into a bucket to later be used as bait, and then cook yourself a fine stew with the meat.

Doesn’t make the blood on your hands or handing the guts any less appealing, though.

Despite everything, the low growl from your stomach overrides all other emotions just before you quickly toss the final bits of edible meat and fat into the slowly bubbling pot to your left. The smell of the cooking meal, one with several bits of freshly cut onions and other vegetables, quickly seizes your attention and refuses to let it go as your mouth begins to salivate uncontrollably.

After a long day of work filled with back-breaking work and less than stellar company, you’re more than glad to finally be home.

You close your eyes and slowly rub them while a familiar phrase comes to mind, of which has never once been proven itself wrong.

“It’s not work if you enjoy it,” they always said, and, boy, were they right.

Before long, your eyes feel just a bit sore and you force your hand away from the blurry peepers as they desperately attempt to readjust to the world’s sudden splotches of color assaulting it from all sides. It takes you a minute, but you eventually realize that the hue of orange plastered about your kitchen isn’t a fallacy told by your eyes.

The beams of orange light shine through a number of windows scattered about your house, illuminating the place in a warm glow that signaled you that it’s getting late in the evening, much to your dismay. You’d expect to have at least a few more hours to yourself out of today’s seemingly simple schedule, but it seems that you’re not so lucky.

With a glance over to the clock above the stove, you grimace before shaking your head. It’s nearly six thirty, and you feel like dropping dead on your bed with a well-written book between your hands after a freshly cooked meal.

You stifle a yawn before stretching and closing your eyes—of which have tired tears forming at the corners—while silently leaning against the countertop. Comforted by the warmth of the hot stove, you feel the day’s stress slowly beginning to fade away into obscurity as the heat begins to melt away your worries.

Though before you could have a chance at falling asleep, and potentially turning your delicious meal into a fire hazard, a soft hiss interrupts your thoughts of sweet relaxation and sleep. Your eyes open with a flicker as you instantly recognize the hiss of your faithful companion.

It wasn’t the normal type of hiss that he usually gives out, one which signaled that he’s in a rather bad mood, but rather it was that he naturally gave out when something either piqued his interest or that he’d caught another squirrel that wandered a bit too close to his area.

You wonder what could’ve caused Baron to react as he did while stretching out your worn limbs. Possibly a passerby on the road saw him and scampered off in the usual, scared fashion? Or perhaps he’d sat on his own dung again and gotten upset.

Yeah, he isn’t exactly the brightest hunting companion you’ve ever had.

Carrying yourself to the sink to wash the red stains off of your palms,—you shudder at the fact that you’d forgotten to wash immediately afterwards—you are quick to close your eyes in comfort as the warm water begins to pour over your worn hands. Soon enough, you begin to feel the day’s stress ebb away as a rather disarming song continues to echo throughout your house.

Straight from the classical station, you near instantly recognize the unmistakable slight of hand that only one cellist could posses as she began to move in for yet another solo. It’s another rerun—you’ve heard this song at least fifteen times before—but you can’t help but hum along to the placating strokes that makes you subconsciously tap your foot in tandem with the sweet melodies.

You mentally thank one Octavia for her nearly unparalleled skill, wherever she may be, as she’s one of the few musicians that you actually care about. You’d met her a while back, a time before when she was merely a pleasant enough kid straight out of highschool working at the local bar, and eventually found her as a sociable enough Equestrian. She was tolerate, but most of all she showed proper respect and quickly earned yours.

Truly, one of the more pleasant Equestrians that you’ve met. It’s a shame that you had to jump ship just before she made public with her love for the arts.

It’s sad that she’s fallen on hard times recently and you’ve no real idea of her whereabouts, as you’d certainly come to every performance that you could to support her.

You dry your hands off with a sigh before glancing down at the boiling-hot pot just to your left. Nodding at the progress, you wish that you could just deal with the diseases that came with the uncooked rabbit within.

Snapping yourself out from a microsleep, you spot the familiar and comforting sight that is your humble abode which surrounds you from all sides from within its cozy walls. It’s nothing special, as far as you’re concerned, but it has that lovable charm of a stereotypical cabin that you’ve fallen with over the past several months.

Even still, the place is far from perfect. Even with a rudimentary glance about the place—your walk-in kitchen connected directly to your sizable living room—you can see several flaws which aren’t exactly new.

You see the vast array of half-read books scattered about the room, the smell of crusty, unwashed dishes is almost tangible from the sink just beside you, and more than a few weeks of cleaning had been neglected as evident by the thick layers of dust creeping up on several bits of lesser used furniture about the place.

Yet again, the cabin’s cozy atmosphere is more than enough to subdue your thoughts of cleaning up the place. “Clean enough,” you think with a wry grin before turning your attention to the worn bookshelf that lay in the opposite corner of your living room.

Your voracious gaze is torn all too soon from the large assortment of cheesy romance novels and history books at the sound of something you’d nearly forgotten. A sound so infrequent that it was almost alien to you, so much so that you have to question if you had truly heard it.

A knock at your door, there was no two ways about it.

You groggily toss your apron aside before checking that all of the blood spots have been removed from your hands. Satisfied after a rudimentary glance—you know just how squeamish the locals are—you make to don a professional demeanor while hoping that the long day’s work doesn’t show under your eyes.

The sound of a door opening was all that was needed to get your legs moving towards the front of the house with a modified entrance that acted as a front of a business.

The place consisted of a small counter with a series of pictures about the place which decorated the hunts you were more proud of in the past year and a half, all with you standing with a triumphant boot upon the former beast’s head and a smug grin on your mug. More than enough sunlight passed in through the two windows adjacent to the door to illuminate the black and white depictions of victory.

You approach the wooden seat behind the small counter, made low enough so that you could mitigate the height difference between you and your Equestrian customers, with a raised eye scouting out for the potential client. As far as you can see, the place is—miraculously enough—more abandoned than your tenth birthday party.

A frown slowly makes its way onto your face. Hopefully they haven’t gotten scared off by Baron causing a ruckus out back, as you know just how noisy he can get in his pen when there’s a squirrel taunting him from above, or else you’ll have to go out back and help him extend his threshold of pain.

“Uh… mister?”

You blink at that odd, squeaky voice. What the he—

“Down here.”

You glance down to spot two sets of eyes looking up at you with a mix of indignation, fear and wonder about them. Your left brow slowly rises as you wonder where their caretakers were. The thought of anybody in their right mind letting two little ones venture out into the fringes of the White Tail Woods to see the ‘Boo Radley’ of the town was as stupid as it was implausible.

“Afternoon,” you say aloud in what you hope to be a gentle voice, “welcome to Exterminators Anonymous, how can I help you today?” You hope that your voice didn’t show any of the wear or tear of the day’s events, trying instead to put on a friendly facade that you’ve done so many times before.

Perhaps the two are just lost after a bit of tomfoolery in the woods and they need some directions back to town? Having been around Equestrians for some time, you wouldn’t be shocked if that came out to be the truth. Always prancing about and praising their false gods, these Equestrians.

“H-howdy there, mister!” said one of the two in front of your desk, her hiccup of trepidation not going unnoticed as you see her little foreleg spas all throughout the air in a poor attempt of forming a wave.

Despite initially wanting to snigger haughtily at that accent and the disproportionate size of the Equestrian’s head to her body, you soon give way to your kinder side. You manage to give out a small, sincere smile at the little ones while giving out a very lethargic wave of your own.

When you overcame the immediate confusion of the situation, you realized her use of the word ‘howdy’ and made it your mind drift off towards those outback ranchers and farmers that you sadly happened to neighbor. That shade of her coat, a light yellow, made a certain pony come to mind. You’ve heard about that one hick a great many times, the one that served the false gods and was, as you’ve heard, dear friends with the new talk of the town; one previous understudy to the prime leader of the land.

Finally having been freed of your initial shock of seeing the two little ones within your business, you wondered if you really did need glasses if you failed to notice the two runts, you attempt to get a better look at the two while offering them two of the three seats in front of your counter. They accept and hop up like cats onto the proffered chairs after a moment’s hesitation.

They’re both quite young, you guess no more than ten or so, and both rang only faint memories in your mind. You’ve seen them around Ponyville, the quaint village you lived on the fringes of, but you can’t remember anything significant about the two other than the fact that you’ve seen their faces about every here and there when you were forced to go to the village.

The one on your left has a rather placating shade of light purple fur followed by a light blonde mane that had a dull horn protruding from the center of it. Her eyes were of the same shade as her mane and had a critical look about them, one which bore the acute examination that only few at her age possessed. Though, unlike all of the other looks that other Equestrians initially gave you, this one was less fearful and more… interested?

Her partner bears a coat of light yellow, which still unnerved you at the thought of having a bearer of the elements coming into your business, and a mane that shines red like a polished apple. Her face spoke of a poorly held up facade of confidence and amicability that you saw through the instant you two made eye contact.

“What brings you two here?” you say with slight tilt of the head, “ya’ two got lost explorin’ the White Tail Woods and need directions?” Your tone was far less formal than it previously was as your slack way of speak, although similar to the hick’s shortening of words in a sense, was still as clear and fluent as your tongue when around others who expected better.

Your eyes lock onto the light orange ones of the young bumpkin, of which you absentmindedly noticed has a comically large red bow in her hair. It takes her a moment, though not a particularly long one, to realize that you were, infact, talking to her.

“Well, uh, mister…?” she begins after swallowing her uncertainty and meeting your gaze with an honest look that contained neither fear nor unease. This makes you wonder if this one child has more guts than the entirety of Ponyville…

“Anonymous Unknown.”

“Well, mister Anonemoose,” she begins, “my name’s Applebloom, and my family’s orchard’s been having some, uh, odd things happening as of late.” Her voice slowly gets more confident as she continues her little explanation of the pest problem as your eyes go wide for a margin of a second, as you were fully expecting the little one to ask for directions to Ponyville proper.

You think of what to do in the situation, whether or not this was actually legit and whether would lead to anything serious or not, before slowly pulling out your notebook and a spare pen.

Before you do anything else, you have to be sure that this little one knows of how you operate.

Specificity is key, you’ve always been told.

“Just so we’re clear here,” you say aloud before noticing her suddenly aware face, “do you know how we Hunters operate here in Equestria, Applebloom?”

The filly in question blinks once. Then twice. A slow, steady shake of the head confirms your suspicions after she opens her mouth and raises a hoof to say “Of course!” but then decides against it.

“Well,” you begin with a gesture towards the vast array of pictures around the place displaying your achievements, “being a Hunter employed by the Equestrian Government, after each successful hunt of a creature that’s been threatening the lives, property, or well being of anypony within her lands, I get compensated according to the ‘threat level’ of my prey.

“So that means that you or your family won’t have to pay for me if you sic me on anything more dangerous than a mouse,” you say with a spin of the pen in your hand. “Though I still work as an exterminator of smaller pests, those aren’t exactly covered by the fat-cats back in Canterlot…” you finish your brief explanation with a proud grin, an honest one at that, as you catch both of the little ones staring at the plethora of pictures scattered plastered on the walls.

They sure give you a reason to hold your head high and give you a reason to smile every time you see them, that’s for sure.

“Wow,” mutters the purple one with a still gaping mouth. Applebloom can’t help but shake her head to reciprocate the sentiment.

A brief burst of pride swells within your heart at the sight of the awestruck fillies gazing up at your many achievements. It’s been far too long since somebody complimented you or your handiwork.

“Please,” you say a bit of uncharacteristic bashfulness, “it’s just what I get paid for. Speaking of which, how ‘bout some details on these ‘odd things’ that’ve been happening ‘round your orchard?” You inwardly sigh one of relief as the two seem to snap out of their looks about the pictures, both looking back pointedly at you.

Applebloom looks a bit unsure at this point, but nods nonetheless as she puts a hoof to her chin and, funnily enough, sticks her tongue out in concentration. “Well, sis’ never did say much ‘bout what she saw, but ya’ could hear these real awful soundin’ noises come bedtime, real scary ones!”

You move to interject with a raised finger as you take a serious demeanor before beginning to scribble down notes of the situation, “Could you possibly describe these noises? Try to be as specific as possible, please.”

Applebloom nods, all of her previous apprehension about you forgotten as she strains her mind to recall the past. “Rustlin’ in the trees and bushes,” she says with certainty, “loud, noisy rustlin’, like it didn’t even care that we could hear it…”

“And, if you left a window open, just the tiniest crack,” she said in a voice that got progressively quieter, “you could hear it breathing all heavy and throaty like.”

“And you’re certain that it’s just a single beast?” you question without looking from your paper, “No two sets of tracks, no two sets of breathing, nor any two bushes rustling at once, or anything of the sort?”

“We’re sure,” her voice is confident as a somewhat prideful tone seeps in, “we Apples are a lotta’ things, but we ain’t idiots.”

You briefly look up in time to see the purple one give Applebloom a skeptical look. A smirk flashes on your face before you shake your head clear from the juvenile play.

Applebloom quickly followed your eyes and gives her friend a dirty look. A sheepish look appears on the other’s face as she raises two hooves in a placating manner, which gets a giggle out of Applebloom before the two eventually settle down.

You shake your head before scoffing at the situation before audibly closing your book. “Don’t mind if I head down to the orchard and speak to the head of the house about this?”

Applebloom eyes flick back to you before she comprehends the meaning of your words and eagerly nods her head before nudging her head towards the door. “C’mon, I’ll show you the path!”

You give off a quick nod before slowly reaching for the coatrack just behind the counter. Sure, you could’ve just told her that tomorrow will suit you better, but you could really use the money.

Well, that and if anyone died after they’d came to you for help, regardless of the situation, you were held accountable due to the Hunter’s code.

You only needed to learn that once.

Before you know it, the three of you are on the dirt road and heading towards one of the three large orchards on the outskirts of Ponyville proper.

The birds flutter throughout White Tail Woods—your home—with their happy songs echoing throughout the countryside, which are accompanied by the sound of gentle wind rustling the foliage all around you all thanks to the gentle breeze that feels just heavenly.

All too soon, though, are you brought out of your calm by the sight of two pairs of eyes staring up at you.

You wonder if they’re intimidated by the height difference as you’ve finally shown yourself off of your small chair,as it soon became evident that they barely come up to your waist. A fully grown equine usually reaches your breast, but, again, these are youngins whom you had to slow your pace for to let their little limbs follow.

“So you can get ridda’ it?” Applebloom blurts out as your eyes flick between her and her companion. The look in her eyes is enough to tell you that she didn’t mean to verbalize that, as evident by her mouth quickly thinning and a nervous chuckle coming out from her.

You raise an eyebrow at that, yet your look remains focused on the path down in front as you mull over what the beast can possibly be. There were only a handful of creatures in modern Equestria that you truly felt threatened by.

“Soon as I figure out what it is,” you say aloud before clicking your tongue, “but I think I’ve narrowed it down to about a dozen or so beasts.” While the little ones were previously bickering and giggling about whatever it is foals talk about on the road, you’ve racked your brain for any relevant information concerning the possibilities of what the beast is that you will face in the coming days.

You absentmindedly crack your neck before speaking, “All twelve of those things shouldn’t take more than a minute or two once I’ve got them in my sights. Only bad thing ‘bout this situation is that you’re the first clients that I’ve gotten in a month and a half,” you give out a small scoff of the memory, “and even then, the mare thought that getting me to hunt some rabbits eating her crops was covered by the state.”

There is a lull in the conversation as you sigh aloud at the memory. The mare, Golden Harvest if you recall correctly, reminded you so much of yourself—the meek and bashful loner who worked for the family business—that you’d ended up just doing it free of charge after having a rather pleasant conversation with her.

She’s one of the three Equestrians within Ponyville that you don’t loathe, that’s for sure.

“You’d think that there’d be more monsters here,” says a meek voice that snaps you from your reminiscing, “being this close to the Everfree and all…”

You glance down to spot the blonde eyes Dinky looking up at you in a thoughtful manner.

Awfully perceptive, this one, you think with a nod. Perhaps this one was actually literate, you wonder?

“Yeah,” you say while sweeping your arms all about you to gesture towards the great outdoors, “surprisingly, ever since the reintroduction of your newest ‘princess’ there’s been a steep drop in the number of monster sightings along the borders of the Everfree.”

Before you have time to draw in another breath and continue, the little one continues to amaze you with the intellect that trumped nearly every Equestrian you’ve met so far.

As if on cue, Dinky blinks in comprehension before her eyes gleam with the childlike joy of knowing the answer. The excitable filly hops in the air a few times as a larger than life smile forms on her muzzle, her obvious interest in the subject almost being tangible through the air.

“It’s because of the Elements of Harmony!” she chirps out with a particularly enthusiastic jump, “their radiance around Ponyville must be a natural barrier between the evils within the Everfree and all the good that Sparkle and her friends stand for! There’s no way that any baddies would wanna’ come into Ponyville with them around, heck, even I was kind of afraid of them until met them all; they’re really nice ponies!”

Silence fills the path as you and Applebloom shoot each other sceptical glances in sync. Although you knew jack about the young Appleboom, you could both confine your silent thoughts of “How in the hell?” about this one being the brains of the duo. Both your eyes and Applebloom’s flickered back towards the purple one, then back to each other, then back to the purple one.

“Sounds like somebody’s been doing their homework,” you say aloud with a bit of a knowing tone, as unicorns always were the smarter of the three equine races.

“Egghead,” says Applebloom, which in turn gets her companions undivided attention.

“Filthy peasant.”

And so it begins, neither of the two wanting to back down as the vicious cycle among youngins begins anew.

“Nerd.”

“Your stupidity is no accident, it is your birthright!”

You find yourself shaking your head at the whole scene, not unwilling to let yourself smile at some of the more creative insults the two toss about, though. This wasn’t going to stop any time soon, if the looks of vehement, childlike hate on their faces were any indication of when a ceasefire was about to occur.

You were impressed, actually impressed. In all your time bickering with friends back before you found yourself in Equestria, all your petty fights with friends would usually last a round or two of verbal attacks. You’d run out of ammunition quickly and then either laugh it off or skulk off with an aura of butthurt about you the rest of the day.

But these two kept on for god knows how long—the actual path that lead from your house to the orchard was no more than fifteen minutes but it felt like an eternity—as the two continued to have at each other without a care in the world. Both had already exhausted their stockpile of good insults and were merely running at fumes at this point.

“No you!”

“No you!”

“No you!”

And it kept going on, and on, and on!

Though, thank the heavens, a foreign voice hollered out to interrupt the dastardly duo’s endless confrontation. You all stop mid stride to look ahead for the source of the slightly high pitched voice that carried a bit of a slur.

“Diiiiiiiiiiinky!”

The voice was one of an odd pitch that you couldn’t tell immediately if the speaker was drunk, yet there was that distinct feminine quality to it as the voice rang out in front of you all.

Looking ahead, you spotted a slightly rustic looking two-story house that bore a classic white paint job with the size to hold a great many number of ponies, you guessed easily over a hundred. You’d probably be right, as you’d been able to hear some commotion a few months ago when there was some sort of family reunion as indicated by all the boisterous chatter and distant ‘Yeehaw!’s that rung out throughout the countryside.

Seeing nobody in sight, you glance upwards upon hearing the unmistakable sound of flapping wings. The sight that greeted you only resulted in

There, above you all by ten or so feet, lie a pegasus suspended midair with a warm smile placed upon her muzzle. Her coat was of a light grey color with an eye and mane color to match the tone of the unnamed foal.

“Hey’a Dinky!” said the pegasus while slowly descending towards the unicorn foal, “have fun with Applebloom?”

“Hey mom,” greeted back the little purple one with a smile, “it was really fun…” Oh boy, you can practically smell the embarrassment emanating out of the little Dinky from here. Though you can’t tell whether or not if it’s the usual shame that comes from having one’s parents around other people or if it’s the fact that her mom is expecting a hug as she slowly descends.

The two embrace each other tightly before the mother slowly beats her wings to send both of them momentarily airborne. The mare does a small twirl at the apex of the short lived flight before making for a slow landing in front of you two.

And when all looked well, ‘Dinky’s’ mom missed a step and fell backwards with a loud thud, a cloud of dust rising from the impact which momentarily blocked all vision. You and Applebloom both let out a small hiss of vicarious pain at the scene as a saddlebag on the mother, one which hadn’t been noticed until now, decided to pop open and litter its contents all about the place.

Fresh groceries and produce now lay scattered about all of your feet on the dirt path leading towards the hillbilly housing.

“Are you alright?” you ask subconsciously while approaching the two and debating whether or not to offer a hand, as it would most likely draw potential ire or fear. You end up deciding against your admittedly rational fear and reach down with a helping hand.

Dinky is the first to recover from this with a fit of giggling. Apparently this was normal to her…

“I’m fine,” she chirps, her mood the brightest you’ve seen it in the company of her mother, before taking your helping hand up. You pull her up in a flash and move to help her mother.

“Heheheh,” chuckles the mare weakly as she’s yet to open her eyes while straightening her back on the ground after the hard fall, “that wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Miss,” you ask with hand outstretched, “are you quite alright? That was quite the fall.”

“Me?” questioned the mare in question as she opened her eyes to reveal two bright blonde eyes, only one of which returned your look, “I’m fine, don’t you worry about me.” Her voice was, much to your surprise, completely void of any fear or hesitation that was a staple among these Equestrians whenever you tried to hold a steady conversation with one of them. You shrugged it off to her having seen you around town and eventually hearing that you weren’t some murderous beast from the aether.

She took your hand and you helped her up without a second thought. The pegasus shakes herself violently in an attempt to get rid of the dirt, which works to some extent, before fixing her mane and giving you a sheepish look with a scrunched up face.

Nodding—you didn’t know what else to do in the situation—you step back and glance down at the groceries splayed out across the dirt. Applebloom was attempting to organize them into a neat pile, yet her lack of hands left her with some trouble at picking up several bits of fruit without wanting to, you know, put her mouth on another's produce.

Taking a knee, you quickly help Applebloom, Dinky and her mother pick up the mess before long. When it was all said and done, you had taken no more than two minutes to play pickup for the mare.

“Sorry about that,” says the mare with her head slightly hung in embarrassment. A small smile forms out of that scrunched up face when she finally meets your eyes. Or at least tries to, for that matter.

“It’s fine,” Applebloom responded with a dismissive wave of the hoof before she made to give the mare a bright smile, “thanks for lettin’ her come!”

The three shared smiles and said their goodbyes before turning to leave. Though, before it all was said and done, what happened next gives you cause to lean your head back and squint slightly in confusion.

“Bye, Anonymous!” said the young Dinky with a wave and a smile that her mother reciprocated, “And good luck!”

You were silent, somewhat scared and nervous at the situation for no apparent reason, and merely decided on a half-grin with a short wave of your own. You wonder what drove them to do it, perhaps this family was especially kind to everyone and they did it out of obligation?

Soon enough the two were heading down the path towards Ponyville proper, leaving both you and Applebloom watching them as they went. Only then did you notice that the sun was following them as they went, which effectively pulled you from your thoughts.

You glance down at Applebloom, who was still gazing at the two specks down the road with a small smile upon her face.

“So,” you say in an attempt to break the silence, “how about we go pay your sister a visit before people start wondering why I’m following you like a lost pup?”

“Hm?” Applebloom said before shaking her head and looking at me, “Oh yeah, right this way Anonemouse.”

And there it goes again. You scowl flashes onto your usually collected face before you correct the foal, “Anonymous.”

“Tomayto, tomahto,” is Applebloom’s eloquent response as she turns from you and begins to trot towards her presumed home.

If you wanted to kill yourself, you’d climb to Applebloom’s chromosome count and jump to her IQ.

Following behind nonetheless, you find yourself stopping at the front of the house as the little one continues onwards, the foal only looking back as she opens the front door to spot you hanging back.

“Just bring her out here,” you say while leaning against the guardrail of the stairs leading up to the porch, “don’t want nobody gettin’ spooked by turning a corner and bumping into me.”

Applebloom mulled over your words for a brief moment before nodding, seeing the reasoning behind your reluctance. With a shrug and a small smile, she soon disappeared behind the front door.

Your own thoughts soon take over as the clear lack of distractions becomes abundant while the birds begin to silence their songs. Said thoughts primarily consisted of how you were going to find time to cook the rest of that stew and how lonely your bed is without you.

Before you could begin to ponder about anything else, though, the distinct and telltale creak of an opening door sounded out from the porch to your side.

You slowly turn, somewhat intentionally so to dust off your coat and put on a fake smile, to see the elder sister of Applebloom.

The first thing you notice about her is the similar coat color being one of a light orange that instantly reminded you of her sister, and a mane slightly darker than that of Dinky’s. Two green apple eyes looked at you with determination and slight indignation that made you slightly raise a brow in question.

Nice hat, though.

“So,” you begin with a cocky tone that you can’t help, “I heard you got a problem?”

This one’s odd, alright. You’d wager that someone is holding her at gunpoint to do this, if her grimace and eyes darting in every direction except yours were any indication. Silence reigned king for a solid minute before you seized the initiative yet again.

“Well,” you continue, unfazed by her reluctance, “luckily for you, I’m the best problem solver this side of the Ghastly Gorge.”

You can almost taste the skepticism and doubt emanating from the mare in front of you, of whom you guessed wasn’t that old if your judgement on equine physiology was to be trusted, as she stared you down with a critical eye.

And, to your surprise, the mare merely sighed in defeat while slumping her head down towards the porch. A moment later she looked up, catching your curious and slightly worried eyes with a look that bore none of the previous resentment.

“Well then,” she said with a light voice that came with a forced smile, “let’s hope that you’re right for both our sakes, sugar cube.”

You’re unable to hide your immediate confusion at the last comment. Sure, you expected these ponies to be inbred spacks, but nothing to the extent of calling a complete stranger a ‘sugar cube.’ Never being around someone so… quaint, you hope to just change the subject as quickly as possible.

“The name’s Anonymous Unknown,” you say aloud after your visible confusion fades, “pleasure to finally meet the famous Applejack.” Your feet dragged you just a foot before the renown element bearer, your best facade of amicability shining as you reach out for a introductory shake.

Honestly, you can't care less about these freaks and their supernatural powers embedded into them because of some false god’s whims, but, hey, you’ve gotta’ be nice to your clients.

What happens next makes your smug demeanor falter, if only for a moment.

Her eyes light up with understanding as she hears your words, as if hit with a revelation. You felt a brief surge of magic within her, your senses’ hard years of training earning their grain, as those green apple eyes flashed comprehension you never thought them capable of.

The previous resignation in Applejack’s face had all but disappeared as it was replaced with a look of… relief? A worn smile is now her’s as she slowly lowers her head yet again, her eyes much less critical and judgemental now.

A frown slowly finds its way onto your face as you wonder what to do about your proffered hand. You eventually decide to slowly drop the limb while raising an unimpressed eyebrow at the mare.

“I suppose,” you say with just a bit of contempt in your voice, “I’ve nothing against you, it’s just that I couldn’t really care less about what you do to appease the two gods.” Your sarcasm and loathing was hardly hidden at that last bit as you slowly gesticulated with a swirling hand.

Applejack merely nodded at your words, her green eyes again looking into your own for something beneath that she would not find. “Heh, ‘spose you’ll think I’m crazy if I say that that’s one a the best things I’ve heard in awhile from a stranger?”

It took you a moment to process the implications of the hillbilly's words and an even shorter time to give a shallow nod.

“If I’ve learned one thing in all my time on Equus, miss Applejack,” you say while giving your forehead a few knowing taps, “it’s that everyone else is a babbling moron. No exceptions.”

“I hope ya’ didn’t just find that one out, feller.”

You snigger at that one, only to have your eyes catch the sight of one hoof being raised in introduction towards you with an earnest, if not tired, smile appearing on the mug of one Applejack.

“Please, call me Applejack, or AJ for short.”

You choke out one ‘Hah!’ before you meet the firm grip of Applejack with your own strength.

No words come to mind immediately, so you opt for a cocky, lopsided smile as you lock eyes with the apple farmer.

“So,” you say after the shake had ended before a silence had any time to form between you, “what exactly do you know about this beast we’re dealing with?”

“Hm,” she muttered for a moment while tapping her chin with a hoof, “well, it’s hard to give you a pinpoint description of ‘em, but I’ll try my best.” Having already retrieved a small notepad from one of your many pockets, you merely turn to her and nod before beginning to scribble down what relevant information she gives.

“Now this thing was ugly, let me tell you what,” she began with a fake gag, “had veins all about ‘em, he was about as tall as you, ‘cept he was all skin and bones. Like he had that one disease that makes ya’ all skinny like?”

“Anorexic?” you offer while looking up from your notepad for just a smidgen of a moment. You get to see a look of realization come over the farmer as she lightly pounds her hoof upon the porch.

“Anorexic, yeah!” Her eyes lit up with realization as her mouth opened a bit before she shook her head lightly, “The thing looked like it hadn’t eaten proper in months, ya’ could hardly make out his figure in the dead of night but, I swear on my life, it was only about as half as thick as you at best.”

You nod silently while scribbling down the lithe and malnourished details. “Now, you said it was as tall as me? Could you go more into that for me?”

“Sure can,” she responded with a nod, “he stood at about your height, give or take a few inches, but it didn’t look like no equine, no sir.” The mare takes a quick breath before moving next to you to lean on the railing and stare out at the orchard before her, “He looked like a lot like you, actually, er… No offense!”

You shake your head, your professional side overpowering your natural urge to jump on that tidbit, “You mean to say that the beast had a physiology similar to mine in terms of being bipedal with two arms and legs?”

The farmer was silent for a moment, in which you wondered if she even knew what you’d just said, before she nodded slowly. “Now, as for its face,” she began, “it was just… off, if you know what I mean?”

You glance at her with a slightly turned head and a raised eyebrow. You shake your head slowly, that answer being far too vague.

“Now I know you’re gonna think I’m a loon,” the farmer said with a sigh, “but you gotta’ believe me when I say that the thing was smiling at me.”

Your face scrunches up in confusion and shock, never before had you heard of any beasts worthy of hunting actively showing emotion besides the basic rage, fear and pain. You’re quick to destroy the look and bewilderment from your mind, though, before your client has time to turn to look at you for reassurance.

Though you’re unable to keep a completely cool look by the time her green eyes meet yours, you nod before speaking without a trace of uncertainty in your voice. “Could you describe his face in any greater detail? And do you have any other physical traits I could go off of? Size of its hands, arms, did it have any hair?”

The farmer’s ears laid back and her eyes went down to the ground, “All I can remember is that smile, everything else was just a blur the first time I saw it…”

You visibly slump at this, unsure of just what was going on, before you close your notebook with a thunk of finality. Taking a spot next to the farmer on the railing, you look out to the slowly letting sun off in the distance.

You take a special moment to let both of you stare at its beauty, as it may very well be the last sunset either of you see.

“When was this?” you ask simply without looking towards her, and, instead, continuing to mentally prepare as to what must be done.

“Last night.”

Author's Note

Hello, hello!

I cannot put into words how much your actions mean to me—taking time of of your day to read something of my creation—, even with all my articulation skills. This is my second published fiction, and I intend to make it one of my best, as I've put immense thought into the backstory of this story and the characters within, and I hope that you'll be able to experience it as I thought it in the coming days.

I will try to update this story as quickly as possible, but within reason, as I intend to supply you with works of beauty, not putrid slag that will make your eyes bleed. Expect an update once a month, or twice if things are going good.

Before the end, I'd like to give special thanks to Pillow-pony for his immense support in encouraging me to continue writing, and to all my friends who encouraged me forward in those trying times of insecurity.

Ask me anything, as I'd love to hear anything you have to say, and I'll see you on the next chapter!