The Hunter and the Hunted
Cooper soared above the open plain below. It was a beautiful, sunny day. He grinned as he watched the ground beneath. A little speck moved through the grass under the shadow of his wings. To a pony it would have been invisible, but to him it was easily seen. He could even make out the color, pink.
He folded his wings and dove, plummeting out of the sky like a stone, directly towards the fleeing shape below. Wind whistled around him, but his eyes did not blink as he fell. At just the right instant he flared his wings, bringing him up, one foreleg stretching out as he did so. Talons raked across soft hide, leaving deep, bloody scratches, red on pink, behind.
The prey he pursued let out a shriek of pain, stumbling in the coarse grass, almost falling.
The gryphon laughed as he soared up. The game had well and truly begun now. Ahead, on the horizon, a dark wall rose beyond the plain. Not a cliff, but a wall of trees, the edge of the dense forest. The running pony was headed for it with desperate speed. No doubt his prey thought to elude him easily in the cramped spaces among the trees. Cooper grinned. The pony was going to be disappointed.
Time passed. The pony, foaming now with sweat, crossed the open plain. The gryphon soared lazily above. Sometimes he dipped down lower. Sometimes he flew so that his shadow would cross the pony below, which always made the creature flinch and stumble. At last the pony reached the shelter of the forest.
Cooper dove once more, cupping his wings to come to a perfect, graceful landing just beyond the eaves of the forest. He lifted his head and sniffed at the air. He grinned. The scent of blood teased at his nares. He followed the trail in the green-and-gold shadows of the forest floor. Across some especially cramped spaces he walked, following the pony's trail, but there were many stretches where he once again took wing, flitting among the trees with graceful agility. He took after his namesake, the cooper's hawk, and they hunted in the woods. He was not quite as agile as the much smaller true hawks would be, but he could fly through surprisingly cramped spaces.
Indeed it didn't take long before he caught up with the little pink pony again. She was running more slowly, having to navigate the tangled roots and uneven ground of the forest floor. He stalked closer, slowly gaining ground. A branch snapped under his claws and the pony looked back, seeing him. She tried to run again, and he launched himself over the partially-open space among the trees that lay between them. As he brought her down his beak snaked out, seeking its target, and sank into her left rear hock. He bit down, shearing through the tendon there, then sprang back and she squealed and kicked.
She rose to her feet, and let out another squeal—almost a scream—as she tried to put weight on the injured leg. He'd ham-strung her quite neatly. Blood leaked down over her hoof, but the wound wasn't large, just large enough to do the job.
This pony hadn't given in to despair yet. She continued trying to get away from him on three legs. That was good. He liked the ones with spirit, they were so much more fun. He followed her, letting her get a little bit ahead of him before once more spreading his wings and darting among the trees after her. When he caught up again he pounced once more, this time his beak striking with practiced precision at her other hind leg. She fell again, and this time she could not rise.
Cooper watched with interest as the pony started to drag herself forward with her front legs. "You seem quite determined."
The pony paused and looked back at him, taking in his calm, unruffled demeanor and bloodstained beak. She herself was panting heavily. In between breaths she said, "Just get it over with already."
The gryphon chuckled. "Why should I do that? If I simply wanted a meal I could eat any number of things, you know. I hunt you exiles because you're entertaining. Like any feline, I enjoy playing with my food."
"Other gryphons don't do this. Other gryphons don't eat ponies." The pony let herself lie still, catching her breath.
"Other gryphons have forgotten the difference between predator and prey. I am a predator. You ponies are prey. That is the natural order of things."
"No. Ponies aren't prey."
"Ponies are. For many centuries almost all gryphons ate pony, you know. The current state of affairs has not actually lasted that long."
"Then we're not all prey. Princess Celestia..."
"Has cowed the gryphons for several hundred years and could no doubt fry me to a crisp, I'm quite aware. That doesn't make her a predator, it just makes her especially dangerous prey. Though admittedly she has more stomach for blood than many ponies. It's her law that allows me to hunt exiles like you, you know. She could probably have demanded we give up hunting altogether, all those years ago, instead of allowing us this one little loophole. She could close it now, if she wished, but she does not. It serves her purposes to let me and those few like me do her dirty work. And that, in the end, is why she's prey. If she were a predator she'd do her own killing."
"Shut up. Stop talking. Go away."
"No, I don't think so. You're the most interesting thing to happen out here in months. We don't actually get many exiles, after all. Not many crimes that dear Celestia will exile ponies for. Which one are you, I wonder? Treason? Indecency with foals? I always feel rather righteous after eating one of those ponies, I must admit."
The pony glared at him. "Murder," she said flatly, and she started to crawl away from him again.
"Oh ho! My respect for you grows." He followed along at a leisurely stroll. "Perhaps you are a predator after all. Did you kill very many?"
"Not enough," she said. Her eyes were suddenly distant, unfocused, her pupils shrinking to pinpoints. "Not enough. The cupcakes were never right, no matter how I changed the recipe. The parties were never right. Nothing is the way it used to be, and I couldn't make it right! It was all wrong, every time! I didn't get enough chances to try!"
Cooper blinked at her. Madness was not exactly new, but not something he was entirely used to. "I... see. Well, I will admit you're certainly more of a predator than most ponies."
Her eyes swam back into focus, locking on him again. "If I am a predator, will you let me go?"
He chuckled. "Still determined, hmm? You know that even if I leave you be, something else will just come along and eat you, crippled as you are."
"You could carry me out of here. You could get me help."
"Why so I could!" Cooper grinned at her.
She glared at him. "You're not going to. I get it. Could you at least put me out of my misery quickly, then?"
"Little pony... when you killed, were you swift? Were you kind? Tell me true."
The pony looked away from him and didn't answer.
"Then you are indeed a predator, to have the stomach to kill slowly, whatever your reasons. But though the big fish eats the little fish, I still eat the big fish. So I will afford you exactly the kindness you afforded those you killed, exactly the kindness that one predator owes another. Which is to say, no kindness at all."
And as he lifted his claws and stepped in to start the next part of the fun, the pony simply nodded acceptance and bowed her head to the inevitability of a predator's harsh justice.
Author's Note
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