Dogged Determination

Chapters

When the blood makes you bitchy
If you give a bitch a brick
Run, bitch, run!
Setting a bitch straight
Keep an eye on that bitch
If you give a bitch a bath
A bitch abandoned
Teaching a bitch to use a toilet
A bitch, battered
Scare a bitch to death
Can you dig it, bitch?
A bitch dares to rear her head
The bitch is black
A bitch can fly
The bitch is stitched
A bitch has questions
Some bitches have all the luck
A bitch heads west
A bitch's anger

When the blood makes you bitchy

And lo, the hero, er, the heroine? Eh, whatever. She did begin her journey back to sunlit lands, now armed with a Plus Five Hecklemaster. Already, she was mildly annoyed by the strange voice that came from within and without, the voice that she could not explain, like so many others before her, she wondered what the sounds of going mad might sound like, or would have, if she wasn’t a puppy and had some concept of what going mad was.

Shēdo ignored the voice that seemed to have no origin and focused upon the task at paw. Climbing up the long hole was far more difficult than falling down it, and she was doing so in the dark. Above her, there was only darkness. Her diggy-diggy claws found purchase in the dirt and she scurried up the hole with her new sword strapped to her back. It was far too long to secure to her side.

Already, she was making plans. Once she was topside, she would sneak away, just in case Dig Dag had left somedoggy to watch for her, and she would find food. She needed food, she needed more than just spiders to eat. Once she had some food, once she had recovered a bit with a few meals and regained her strength, she was going to return and cut Dig Dag down.

Or die trying. It didn’t matter either way.

Cool air hit her nostrils and she paused to sniff. Angling her head up, she saw stars twinkling overhead, and it was the first time she had seen them in a very long time. Frozen in place, overwhelmed, Shēdo took a moment to watch the stars twinkle. She was near the top of the hole now and she did not know what she might find. Watching the stars also allowed her to catch her breath. As malnourished as she was, she didn’t have a lot of stamina.

Very much like a bigger, scarier, meaner looking gopher, Shēdo’s head popped up out of the ground and she peered around in the darkness. It took a moment for her vision to adjust and her keen diamond dog eyes amplified the available starlight tenfold. The entire world around her took on a silvery sheen, no colours, just silvers and greys, allowing her to see almost everything.

She sniffed, cautious, and didn’t smell anything out of place, but that was no assurance. If there was a hunter nearby, he might be using a no-stink potion, which would make him impossible to scent. Shēdo pulled herself up out of the hole but remained on all fours so that she would be low to the ground.

Lo, the opportunity for Shēdo to prove herself presented itself, and she was warned of the danger by the generous, doting, benevolent narrative spirit that only she was aware of. At least for now. There would most certainly be times that Shēdo’s enemies would also become aware of the narration, for what fun would it be to only torment Shēdo? Wait, did I say torment? I would never torment Shēdo. That would be crass!

Scowling, Shēdo went very still, now alerted to the presence of peril, and she tried to listen for the sounds of danger. She had keen hearing by any standard and now, every muscle in her body went tight as she listened. Her cold, wet nose sniffed once, twice, and then a third time. So focused was her hearing, she could now hear the sound of her own eyes blinking as her night vision continued to gain focus.

The faint rustle of fur was the only warning that Shēdo got.

Leaping, the pup somersaulted away as a much larger male brought the blunt end of his spear down on the spot where she had been standing. In mid-air, her left paw reached for the grip of her sword, and her night vision was dazzled by the sudden burst of green fire, but she wasn’t the only one. The big male let out a yelp of surprise as he went blind, his eyes burned by the sudden excess of light.

Shēdo was blind as well and she landed on her hind paws, with her right arm out for balance. She wobbled a bit, her whole body trembling, and she kept her ears focused on the panicked sound of the big male breathing. He was waving his spear around in a wild attempt to hit something, and she could hear the air whistling around its barbed tip.

Still blind, she struck out with her sword, focusing on the sound of the whistling air. The witchfire blade struck steel and cleaved right through it. The spearhead fell to the ground with a muffled sound of steel striking soft dirt, but Shēdo refused to be distracted. Gripping her sword in both paws, the pup focused her ears upon the sounds of heavy breathing and the rustle of fur.

Even better, she heard a growl. Raising her sword up over her head, she brought it down in a blind chop, her eyes still dazzled by the brilliant green light of her blade. Halfway through her arc, her blade encountered some resistance, but not much. She felt it slide through with no real effort at all.

A second later, she was struck with a hot, salty spray, a pulsing, gushing torrent of sticky liquid that washed over her face, arms, shoulders, and her girth, soaking her. There was a gurgling, bubbling cry, a drowned yelp, and her ears could hear the sounds of raw, wet, sloppy meat slapping together.

And lo, our heroine discovered that she was dangerous.

Her vision cleared just enough to see that she had sheared the cheek right off of the muzzle of the hunter. All of his teeth were visible because his grin went right up to his ear, or would have if the blow hadn’t also severed that as well. One big hairy arm reached for her, and the other arm tried to smash her with the spear, using it like a club.

She rolled backwards, holding her sword out, and when she was on her hind paws again, she hefted her blade in an upwards chop. The arm reaching for her was severed just below the elbow, and Shēdo caught it before it hit the ground. There was a frenzied scream from her attacker, a terrible sound indeed, and while he was helpless, Shēdo took the opportunity to strike.

Using the arm that she had just severed, she lept and rammed the bloody protruding bits of bone right into the big male’s eye, jamming it in as hard as she could. There was a wet squish of meat striking meat, and a grinding sound as bone scraped against bone. Still mid-air, she kicked out with one hindpaw, knocking her assailant over into the dirt.

Standing over him, she held out her sword and had a better look at him while her vision cleared. In the baleful green glow, she recognised him, she knew him well. Crag Daggle, Dig Dag’s torturer. His whimpers were like sweet, sweet music and she thought about all of the awful, horrible, unspeakable things that Crag Daggle had done.

“A bitch has defeated you,” Shēdo said, her voice low and growly. “A bitch pup. I have bested you.” While speaking, she thought of all the times he had punished her, beaten her, made her cry out. Redoubling the grip on her sword, she pointed it at him. “You are the first, Crag. I kill you, then I go kill Dig Dag. Then I give clan back to Minori and we be good.”

“You poor dumb bastard, you were beaten by a puppy one third your size!” Limey shouted as blood dripped from his blade. “I bet that stings!”

The baleful green glow of the witchfire blade turned the scarlet mask on Shēdo’s face to look garish. She stood, listening, savouring the sounds of Crag’s laboured breathing. When Dig Dag had punched her, breaking off her fang, it had been Crag who had pulled out the root of it with pliers, sitting on her, almost suffocating her.

She recalled all too well how parts of him pressed against her, hard, unyielding, and she knew what fate awaited her once she was old enough and big enough. Panting with rage, Shēdo stood over her helpless foe, wondering what Minori might say. Reaching out, she grabbed him by the remaining ear and yanked him upwards into a sitting position.

Leaning in, she looked him in the face, her head off to one side because of Crag’s forearm protruding from his eye socket. “You are the bitch.” Her sadistic whisper competed with the sound of steel parting gristle as she drove the tip of her sword into Crag’s girth, the tip passing through his breastbone with no effort. As the blade pushed through, she felt it strike Crag’s spine on the other side of his body, but it offered no real resistance. She sunk her sword into him right up to the hilt, never once looking away from his panicked, pained eye. Her diligence was rewarded when she watched the light go out in it, she watched it dim, and growled when there was no spark of life left.

Yanking backwards, she pulled the sword from Crag’s girth, and then kicked him over as she was showered in more blood. She stood there, unmoving, allowing the blood of her fallen enemy to wash over her, and her witchfire blade bathed the scene in an eerie green light. Her hind paws squished in the dirt that was now mud, so saturated it was with blood.

“By the alicorns, this is better than I hoped! You’re a barbarian!”

Ignoring Limey, Shēdo closed her eyes and felt the blood running down her body in rivulets. It soaked into her fur and was hot against her skin. An ever-growing bloody mud puddle spread around her, and her paws sank down into the soft, soothing mud. She dropped down, sitting in the mud, which was both cool and warm against her fevered flesh. Trembling, her blade shook in her grip, and she bowed her head.

Had she become onryō? Minori had told her stories. Many times she had sat with Long Ears and Kabuki and had listened to Minori’s tales. So covered in blood was she that her ears were plastered to the sides of her head. She thought of onryō and yūrei, and in the midst of her moment of triumph, she felt sad because she didn’t know more of the old language, the language that Dig Dag had forbidden them to speak.

She had kneeled down as a pup, but as she rose, she was something else. Shēdo didn’t know what. The blood had changed her. Confused, she thought of what it meant to be a bitch, she hadn’t yet experienced her first issue of blood, the miraculous sign that it was time for her to have puppies to keep the clan strong. No, for her, the blood had not come from within, but from without. Already, it was caking to her fur because she was drenched in it.

And thus, our heroine contemplates her own adulthood, and she wonders if this symbolic issue of blood means that she is a full grown bitch now. Nothing in her life has prepared her for this, to be free, to be her own creature. And this is why magic swords are dangerous. If you find one in a barrow, or have some moistened bint lob a scimitar at you from out of a pond, your life is going to become quite interesting, indeed!

With a somewhat jerky motion, Shēdo whipped her sword out to one side and sent the blood on the blade flying off in a fine red mist. The blade, now clean, was held up to her face, and she breathed deep, thinking about her many questions.

“Quite a beginning, Warlord Ketsueki.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Shēdo replied.

“Oh, I think you’ll find out soon enough!” Limey’s voice was shrill and excited. “See what we can do together? Trust in me and I’ll guide your paw to victory. Together, we’ll be unstoppable! Just think of all of the innocents we can save!”

Shēdo blinked.

“Why did I just say that?” Limey asked. “It’s happening again… I’m having distressing thoughts about saving innocents and doing good. Ugh!” The sword shuddered in Shēdo’s grasp.

“We kill the wicked and save my tribe… my clan,” Shēdo said to her blade. Already, she had a plan forming, and with her new sword, she felt that anything was possible. “First we cut down Dig Dag, then maybe, we go hunt for others. They all die in much pain, much screaming. We take vengeance for bitches everywhere. Much death. Howling.”

“Whatever you say, Warlord Ketsueki! Roadtrip!”

Author's Note

Okay, feedback needed at this point. I am cautious about moving forwards. Remember, the Weedverse is all about growth, and I'm worried that people are going to forget that, or worse, cheer her on while she spirals further down into her need for vengeance.

This is gonna be a bloody tale.

If you give a bitch a brick

There she is. Our heroine. See how she sleeps, all curled up in a little hollow hidden beneath the roots of a tree. So cute and cuddly… and caked in blood. Oh, she tried taking a bath, but she was exhausted, and not much got cleaned. So now she slumbers, her cheek resting against my scabbard, and she dreams a little dream.

Shēdo dreams of a turtle, or is it a tortoise? I can never quite remember which is which. Anyhow, it is a very handsome turtle tortoise, with the magnificent head of a noble, majestic jackalope, heh, check out my rack! What was I saying? Oh yes, the good-looking head of a jackalope. And then there are four perfect legs, all mismatched. Because, what is life without variety? Shēdo dreams of the most perfect and handsome of all draconequus spawns.

And while my little warlord dreams of draconequus turtle tortoises, I contemplate my own existence, these troubling thoughts that well up within my mind, just as before. There is a nauseating concern for protecting the innocent. Shēdo is innocent. Make no mistake, the adorable little hairball is a killer, but she is innocent. She is the victim. She is the sad, tragic figure. Shēdo is the flawed lump of iron being pounded into the imperfect blade.

The noble draconequus turtle tortoise that she dreams of, he might take pity on her, because, he too, was small and relatively helpless, all things considered. Mocked by his fellow draconequus spawns, they called him worthless and believed him to be a joke. He was met with ridicule and mockery. And contrary to whatever rumours you might hear, he wasn’t so pathetic that he hung around the ancient alicorns with the hopes that they might protect him from the bigger, more brutish examples of his own kind. Just forget about it! That is patently untrue and part of a vast conspiracy, a smear campaign against perfect, handsome draconequus turtle tortoises everywhere!

But I digress. He might take pity on her, but I don’t. No. I will make her strong. I will guide her paw. And just like I have done before, I will shape her into a new warlord. I don’t know what that silly little bookworm did to me, but it aches, oh how it aches. Like Shēdo, I am the flawed lump of draconequus turtle tortoise, and that snotty little filly pounded me into an imperfect blade.

Poor Shēdo… how I wish that I had the means to comfort her…

Blinking, Shēdo awoke to the glorious sound of birdsong. She uncurled a bit, her fur was damp with dew, which had moistened the dried blood. While she had slept she had strange dreams that she couldn’t quite remember. Her tummy rumbled and her nose burned from her own stink.

Shēdo hated being a dirty dog. Dirty dogs were bad dogs and Shēdo didn’t want to be a bad dog. She needed to be clean and she needed food. Flexing her diggy-diggy claws, Shēdo yawned, revealing her one fang. Her own mouth tasted terrible. Last night, before bedding down, she had eaten frogs and bitter, starchy roots in a desperate attempt to fill up her own stomach.

Grunting, she emerged from her makeshift den and stood blinking in the bright sunlight, clutching her precious sword to her girth. The scabbard itself was a magnificent work of art, with a peculiar pattern of design that made it look like a turtle shell. Or perhaps a tortoise. The crossguard almost, but not quite, looked like antlers.

Taking advantage of the light, Shēdo had a good look at herself. Her patchwork vest was ruined, there would be no saving the tattered, bloodied mess it had become. Feeling sad, her jowls quivered and she thought of Minori. Perhaps once Minori was saved, she could make a new vest, a better vest, and as the tribe prospered, as Shēdo knew it would under Minori’s guidance, she could wear better clothes and be clean.

Because Shēdo wanted to be a good dog and she wanted to be seen as a good dog.

Her thoughts lingered upon Minori, and the koans she was fond of sharing. Shēdo’s favourite was, “Who is a good dog?” It was a deep question that begged for contemplation and it called much into doubt. To answer the question of, “Who is a good dog?” Minori had once made her try to polish a brick into a mirror. Nothing came of it, but Shēdo realised that bricks are bricks and mirrors are mirrors, and no amount of polishing would turn a brick into a mirror.

Such as it was with good dogs.

Shēdo hoped that she was a mirror, and not a brick. A mirror could be cleaned, polished, and made presentable. A brick was a brick, and bricks broke mirrors. Such was life. Tail wagging, Shēdo loped off to the nearby stream, thankful for her freedom, and as she departed, she thought about how the waters would mirror her reflection.

Would she see a good dog?

The stream flowed around Shēdo, now polluted with blood and hair. The blood was coming out, but it took so much hair with it. She was going to be bald in places, a fact that caused her much distress. Scraping at her skin with her diggy-diggy claws, mindful of their sharp edges, she picked away at the enormous, moistened scab that covered most of her body.

It was nice to bath in peace, surrounded by birds, butterflies, and bees. The water was cold, but Shēdo didn’t mind. Bathing was a rare treat and the cold water was invigorating. A large chunk of scabbed blood was worked free, and Shēdo yelped as a patch of fur was torn away with it. Determined to see this through, Shēdo refused to budge until she was clean.

She hoped that she was not polishing a brick.

“Hold me overhead. Keep a firm grip and point my tip towards your enemy. Keep your nose and my tip level with one another, and keep both pointed at your foe.”

Shēdo struggled to do as she was told. She was hungry, but she hadn’t found any food. Doing what Limey had said she held the sword overhead in an aggressive fencer’s pose. She stood sideways, her arms behind her head, and her blade was just above her ears, pointing forwards. Hunkering down a bit, the pup found her balance.

“This is the Ochs, the position you want to be in when a fight starts. Keep my tip pointed at your enemy and let your nose guide you. Whatever you see at the end of your nose, aim my tip at that. Learn to keep the both of them level.”

“This help me kill Dig Dag?” Shēdo asked.

“Maybe,” Limey replied. “Now, try the Pflug. Do you remember what I told you?”

Shēdo did. She lowered her sword to her middle and adjusted her stance. She kept the blade angled upwards, right about where she imagined some guts might be, or maybe a girth, or with a short foe, their throat. She found her balance and rocked back and forth a bit on her hindpaws.

“Good, good… now try the Alber.”

Ears perking, Shēdo felt her paws being guided by a gentle, but insistent force. The sword pointed down, towards where a paw or a foot would be, leaving her wide open. She didn’t like this position, not at all, and she wondered if Limey could be trusted.

“This position is about deception,” Limey explained. “You leave yourself open and take a few swipes at their feet. When they retaliate, you can attack with some quick counterstrikes or a riposte. Most of the time, with your blade low and leaving you open like this, most of your attackers will attack you from either the Ochs or the Pflug position, or something like them. I will show you how to humiliate them by ripping them open from groin to neck.”

“Good.” Shēdo’s lone word was a growly, fierce utterance.

“Now, lift your blade and hold it near your ear, with the point behind you. It should be halfway between your back and sky, at a diagonal, upwards angle. This is Vom Dach.”

Shifting her position, Shēdo followed Limey’s careful instructions, and found that she liked this position. Her sword was ready for a downward chop, or a swift, sidelong swipe. She was balanced in such a way that she could kick out with her hind legs, and then deliver a follow up strike with her sword. This position had much potential and she liked it.

“Now, sword at your side, with the tip pointing behind you, keep it level with your tail. This is Nebenhut. This is the reaper’s pose, as it allows for a strong, sweeping cut with the entire length of your blade as you strike. With you being so small, you’re going to need to learn to master this position if you hope to fight giants. And let’s face it, Shēdo, everything is bigger than you.”

“I am not afraid,” Shēdo said and she fought to keep from sounding nervous. She didn’t like being reminded how small she was. Little was associated with helpless, and she refused to be helpless.

“Now, keep changing through these positions and hold them for a while. Do it until they become fluid and second nature. When I think you are ready, I’ll make some illusions for you to take a swipe at, and I’ll see what you’re good at.”

“And then we go kill Dig Dag?” Shēdo asked.

Limey quivered. “Well, once you understand the basics, once we get a few meals into you, and once I think you are ready, we’ll go and chop this Dig Dag fellow down. But first, we need to get your strength up and teach you the basics. Otherwise, this could be an embarrassing fight, and we don’t want that.”

There was wisdom in her sword’s words and Shēdo realised that her odds of success would be much greater if she was prepared. Perhaps several days of eating and training were in order. Revenge could wait. Lifting Limey, she returned to the Ochs position, and tried to hold her blade without it shaking.

“Good, good, you show promise. Now, keep my crossguard pointing straight up and down in this position, one end at the sky, the other directly at the ground. You want your blade ready to cleave, not slap.”

Heeding Limey’s advice, she twisted the grip in her paws until she felt the crossguard was lined up with ground and sky. The long witchfire blade cast a green glow upon her face, and gave her mismatched eyes a fierce gleam. She could feel some intangible force guiding her paws and her limbs, adjusting her position until she had it just right.

“Now lunge, Shēdo, tip forwards!”

“KAI!” Springing away on her hindpaws, Shēdo lunged, driving the tip forwards. She could feel the power in this movement, and understood that her body would provide momentum to power her blade. Her hindpaws landed in soft grass and hard gravel. She stood there, breathing, and her stomach growled.

“No food for you, not until I am satisfied that you understand Ochs. Now return to form, sword up, and lunge!”

Growling, Shēdo did as she was told and resumed her position. She lined up her blade and her nose, tensed up the muscles in her hind legs, the muscles in her stomach went taut, and like a coiled spring, she released her energy.

“KAI!”

“That’s better, but not good! Try harder, pup!”

Again, she raised her sword over head and returned to the Ochs position. This time, she held the blade closer to her head, tucked just over her ear, and her elbows were flexed wide. This felt better, felt right, and Shēdo knew that her next strike would be more fluid. She found her balance, and suspected that when she lunged, both her own body’s momentum and her sword’s momentum would pull her forward.

“HAI!”

This time, Shēdo seemed to slide through the air, weightless, a spectre born on wind, a shadow moving at the speed of dark. For a brief second, she felt at one with her sword, and there was a glorious feeling of something she did not recognise. Her jowls flapped as she flew her short flight and her floppy ears streamed out behind her.

“AGAIN!” Limey demanded the very second that Shēdo landed.

Bowing her head, Shēdo did as she was commanded, and there is was no shame in doing as she was bid. She submitted, wholly and completely, and committed herself to Limey’s tutelage. The breeze struck her, tugging on her ears and tail, and the pup inhaled, filling up her lungs with clean, wonderful air.

Raising her sword, Shēdo contemplated polishing a mirror.

Author's Note

What is the sound of one jowl flapping?

Run, bitch, run!

Clutching the small brown hare in her paws, Shēdo bowed her head in reverence. She paused for but a second, her ears drooping, her tail sagging, and then with a swift, sudden movement, she twisted the hare’s head around. There was a muffled squeak and the sound of fine, delicate bones crunching.

“Sorry.” Shēdo lifted the hare to look into its dead eyes and she felt a sincere feeling of regret. “A dog has gotta eat and you are made of food. That is just how it is.”

Hunkering down close to the ground, the pup slipped a diggy-diggy claw into the hare, sliced it open, and began peeling the skin off. Her paws trembled from hunger, even though she had been eating rather well for the past few days, growing stronger and recovering. The scent of the hare’s blood left her feeling both sad and excited, though she had trouble putting the reasons as to why she felt sad into words.

With the entrails and offal dumped on the ground for something else that might want to eat them, Shēdo loped over to her fire and laid the hare upon a large flat rock laid over the coals. Right away, the meat began to sizzle and spit on the hot rock, and the delicious smell of searing meat filled the air.

Lo, as our heroine sat down upon the grass, she began to realise that it was time to go back. Days had passed, several, days filled with fantastic training montages! Our heroine could actually hold a sword and pose a credible threat, due to the amazing teaching skills of her most handsome, perfect blade.

“Limey, why don’t you just talk to me and not do that weird thing?”

In a moment of terrible confusion, the narrator paused, uncertain why anything would actually want to talk to him. With the story on hold, the narrator attempted to understand what had just taken place, and he felt very peculiar indeed. The narrator narrated because he was fond of the sound of his own voice, as it was the only voice that had ever been kind to him, for the most part, with the occasional bit of self-deprecating humour.

Sighing, Shēdo poked at the hare with a stick.

Narrating a narrative, narratively narrating, the narrator somehow seemed to narrate himself into a corner, and now amidst his own narration, he did not know what to say, but continued to babble anyway, because, why not, mindless narration was better than awkward silence anyhow.

“You could just talk to me,” Shēdo said to her sword.

Alas, the poor pup just did not understand that a conversation was not the same as narration. She did not understand the subtle nuances of fine narration, nor did she grasp their importance. Any sap could have a conversation, but it took a divine being of nigh infinite intelligence to narrate, a being of infinite cosmic powers. Talking without quotation marks was the pinnacle of godly displays of might.

“I give up.” Hunching over her food, Shēdo poked her meal with a stick once more.

A thin ribbon of drool began to dribble down from Shēdo’s muzzle and she looked eager for her meal. An entire hare all for her was a glorious feast for somedoggy used to scraps and bones. Nearby, she had some wild apples for dessert, delicious apples with delicious worms. She had already eaten some of her dessert, but the less said about that the better.

“How many days has it been?” Shēdo asked aloud. She held out her paw and tried counting, but things became complicated after three, as she couldn’t quite remember what came after three. Her brows furrowed so much that her entire face became wrinkled and her ears were pulled forwards. “Three days?” She flexed her paw fingers and her diggy-diggy claws clicked together.

Looking over at her pile of apples, she tried counting them. A bitch wasn’t supposed to count or read and doing so could mean a beating. Pointing with her diggy-diggy claw, she counted, and by amazing circumstance, she discovered that she had a large pile of three apples. Maybe more though, but she had trouble remembering what came after three. She knew about the number six, but she couldn’t quite figure out where it went, but it wasn’t after three.

Seven was a scary number that Shēdo didn’t understand, and she didn’t like either, as seven ate nine. It was wrong to eat your own kind, Minori had said so, and Minori’s word was law, as far as Shēdo was concerned. Seven was the bad number, a bad omen, and she didn’t even want to know how to count that high. Seven was the number of evil. Seven was the number of cannibals.

Just thinking about it made Shēdo shiver and she was thankful for her hare. It was a dog-eat-dog world and Shēdo would rather starve than eat another dog. Breaking one of Minori’s commandments might cause the Black Hound to appear, and Shēdo, like every other pup before her, was absolutely terrified of the Black Hound.

The Black Hound was just too scary to think about. He had a throne made of the bones of bad dogs and a tapestry woven from puppy dog tails said to be plucked from the butts of rotten little puppies. Minori said that he had a bag filled with the severed heads of the worst dogs, and the Black Hound fed these heads to his pack of howling hunting demons.

If Shēdo had the chance, she would give Dig Dag’s severed head to the Black Hound, with the hopes of atoning for her own sins, because she wanted to be a good dog. With her stick, she turned the hare over, and her smile revealed her bright blue tongue. She couldn’t wait to return and save Minori.

In fact, she was going to do it tonight.

Slathered in thick mud to help hide her stink, Shēdo, a shadow, crept through the darkness, returning to her home. There would be guards posted, but everydoggy else would be sleeping at this hour. The moon was well past its highest point and these were the dark hours that took place before the dawn.

She froze and became little more than a bush, having rolled in twigs and leaves. Unmoving, she strained to hear, to listen, but it was quiet, too quiet. There was no fire for the guards and that puzzled her. Fire kept the monsters away, and there were monsters here. Still as a statue, Shēdo ceased to move as she waited for some sign of life.

The guards were not even going on patrol. Dig Dag would beat them for such laziness. Dropping down to all fours, Shēdo crawled along with her belly just inches above the ground and her tail held low. There was nothing here, but it looked as though a terrible battle had taken place. Everything was wrecked and ruined. No signs of any dogs, no scent of smoke, nothing.

The Black Hound had come just as Minori had promised. He had come and punished them all for their wicked ways, and from the looks of it, nodoggy was spared. There was just nothing here. No fires burned, within or without. She didn’t dare go inside the mine, not now, not ever. This place was cursed. The Black Hound had come with his pack of howling hunting demons and he had cleaned this place out.

Shēdo felt her skin crawl and it felt like she had fleas. She needed to be away from this place, far, far away, and she needed to roll in fresh ashes to protect herself from the evils of this cursed location. The trees were broken, snapped off, splintered, the pup had never seen such destruction and this was clearly the act of an angry god.

Her tribe had sinned and all had suffered. She alone had been spared, because she had ran away, she had fled from all this wickedness. Of course, if the Black Hound really wanted to, he could hunt her down and make her suffer too… but perhaps she had been spared for some reason. It couldn’t be just because she had run away, could it?

No, Shēdo decided after thinking about it as hard as she could. She was spared because she had smote the wicked—she had cut down Crag Daggle—and she had done so in a righteous fury. Crag Daggle’s head had been severed and left on a rock as an offering. Now, it was obvious, this had pleased the Black Hound and he had a new head for his sack.

Struggling, Shēdo began to put three and three together. Whimpering, she began to wonder what else she might have to do to stave off the Black Hound’s fury. One severed head could only do so much to appease one such as he. She had been spared, for now, but the Black Hound’s mood was fickle.

There were a lot of bad dogs in the world, Shēdo knew.

“Black Hound, forgive Shēdo for coming back to this cursed place.” The frantic prayer spilled from her jowls and she dug her diggy-diggy claws into the earth. “I will go from this place of sour earth and bring bad dogs to your judgment, wicked dogs like Crag Daggle. Many heads will I bring you. Spare Shēdo!”

Not wanting to risk the wrath of a fickle god, Shēdo got out of there, running away on all fours with her tail tucked between her legs, heading off to the camp she had established for herself. All around her were the broken trees, shattered stones, the evidence of a raging, rampaging god, a clear warning that bad dogs would be punished.

It was terrifying to discover that one of your gods was real, and not just a story told to make pups behave. The Black Hound had shown up in canine and based on the destruction all around Shēdo, he was pissed. Who else was mighty enough to snap tall, proud trees in half? Who else could shatter granite into pebbles? Who else could have such majestic, terrible fury?

The Black Hound, that’s who.

Slinking away in the darkness, Shēdo promised herself that she would howl for those she had lost. Minori was a good dog and she deserved a good and proper howl. It saddened Shēdo that Minori had shared in the fate of the bad dogs. Tears stung her eyes and she thought about Long Ears and Kabuki. They had been such good dogs too. But that didn’t matter.

It just didn’t matter.

Those she loved lived under the rule of bad dogs. Sniffling, Shēdo hoped that maybe, just maybe, the Black Hound had been merciful with them. Maybe their end had been swift. Perhaps even now, the Black Hound was on his throne made of bones, weighing their souls. He might put them into his forge and maybe, just maybe, they would go on to become part of the Everflame. They could come back and try again, try again to be good dogs.

In mid-lope, Shēdo froze and took a tumble. She lay in the dirt, panicking, panting, and she thought about her sword. Bitches weren’t supposed to touch weapons, not at all, for any reason. Whimpering, Shēdo worried that the Black Hound might be angry with her, and her mind filled with a thousand terrible thoughts.

“Get up, Shēdo,” Limey urged in a reassuring real voice. “I’ll protect you. You don’t need to be afraid of all that stuff you are thinking about. Now get up.”

“Nuh uh.” Petrified with fear, Shēdo refused to move.

“Shēdo, I know the Black Hound—”

“Liar!”

“No, really, I do!” Limey insisted. “Look at you! You are a black hound! Well, almost. You are very, very grey, but that’s close enough. And your name! Your name means shade, shadow, or ghost. It’s obvious that you are his chosen!”

“Liar…” This time, there was doubt in Shēdo’s voice.

“Think about it, you found me for a reason,” Limey said to Shēdo in a gentle, sincere sounding voice.

Shēdo found herself wanting to believe.

“It’s rather obvious, really. You were led to me so we can do great things together. Just take a moment and think about it. You were spared for a reason and we were meant to be together!”

Opening one eye, Shēdo waited for the Black Hound to manifest, she waited to be struck down for this act of blasphemy, this heresy. Nothing happened. Opening her other eye, she raised her head and looked around. The Black Hound was slow to smite her, or maybe Limey was telling the truth.

“Strange magic did this,” Limey whispered to himself, sounding distracted. “I can’t quite put my fluffy puffball tail on what did this, but this magic… it’s almost familiar… no unicorn did this, that’s for sure. It certainly looks like a rampaging god came through here...”

Shēdo was far too distracted by her own thoughts to pay Limey any attention, and she didn’t hear him mumbling about centaurs.. She decided that it was time to move along and leave this awful, cursed place. She had a lot to answer for, and perhaps, she had a lot to make others answer for. She thought about what Limey had said, and it seemed true enough, but it was hard to tell for sure.

Once more on all fours, Shēdo took off, putting this cursed place behind her.

Author's Note

The same could be said of all religions...

Setting a bitch straight

The big dragon was sitting on his haunches too, but Conifer remained upon his hooves. An open book waved one page in the wind as if inviting someone to come over and have a read. It was pleasant, a welcome, wonderful change for Shēdo, who was quite enjoying it. The dragon gave off the pleasing scent of rotten eggs and woodsmoke with each breath it drew.

“If you help me, I will give you something very dear to me,” Chromium offered. “I shall give you my zebra.”

“What?” Shēdo’s eyes first went wide, then narrowed. It seemed the peace was not meant to last. “Say again?”

“My zebra,” the dragon repeated. “I will give you Conifer if you fetch for me my seeing stone.”

“Now you die.” With Shēdo’s announcement, she stood up, and one paw came to rest upon Limey’s grip. “I kill you dead, somehow. That head is coming off.”

“Wait!” Chromium said, sounding excited, and justifiably so after the threat of decapitation.

With her paw on her sword, Shēdo waited, though she was not sure why. She remained in a low, ready crouch, not much caring that the dragon could end her in a single, fiery belch. An unsettling feeling of hatred bubbled up inside of her, it was like bad meat trapped in the bowels doing whatever it was that bad meat did to cause a hasty exit.

“You would fight me because of my ownership of Conifer?” Chromium asked.

“Yes.” Shēdo’s voice was little more than a hiss.

“Pay attention, Conifer, there is a lesson to be learned here.” Leaning his head down, Chromium placed his armored, metallic snout next to Shēdo. “You are very brave, Shēdo. Let us do battle, but not with sword and claw. Let us discuss this rationally, shall we? I challenge thee to moral combat!”

Was this a fight? Shēdo didn’t know how to respond, how to answer. She could strike right now, the dragon’s throat was within reach, but that didn’t feel very honourable. Of course, she had never really contemplated honour very much before, but it seemed very important now. Killing the dragon would mean that she would never learn his reasons. Plus, she didn’t like how Conifer was looking at her, something about it bothered her but she couldn’t say what it was.

“Conifer is mine. I took him from your kind after I slew them and rightfully claimed their possessions. I named him ‘Conifer’ because valuable, living breathing possessions must be named. I fed him, I cleaned up after him, and I brushed him. His outward appearance is a reflection of the pride I take in him as one of my treasures. I taught him how to read, how to think, I taught him reason, logic, and understanding. All of this reflects upon me as his owner.”

Squinting, Shēdo pulled her paw away from her sword and then rubbed her jowls with it.

“When my seeing stone was being stolen by the thieves in yonder cave, a gemstone of incalculable value, I opted to keep Conifer safe from harm. Due to the choice I made, the thieves escaped with my seeing stone as a result of this. Who are you, little dog, to tell me that my ownership of Conifer is wrong?” Blinking once, Chromium waited for Shēdo to reply.

“It just wrong to own another.” Shēdo was having a hard time making an argument, but she was going to do her best.

“Conifer is happy, well cared for, educated by dragon standards, and all of this reflects the pride I take in having him as a possession.” Chromium flexed his massive claws and moved his snout a little closer to Shēdo. “Have I done wrong?”

“Yes.” Shēdo couldn’t say why this wrong, but she knew that it was wrong. “Why you give Conifer to me?”

“Because, it is time for us to part ways,” Chromium replied. “I would be a very irresponsible owner if I just left him to fend for himself. Conifer has reached the age of sexual maturity for his species… I think. His life is so short and it is hard to tell. I am guessing that he is around ten years of age… a few brief seconds of my life. Your years are so confusing and hard to process. It is amazing that you lot get anything done at all with your lives being so short.”

Shēdo blinked in astonishment.

“Conifer wishes to continue seeing Equestria and I wish to go home. It would not be safe for Conifer to come home with me. He needs an owner to look after him and keep him safe. Something that will brush him, feed him, protect him, and look after his needs.”

“Why you go home?” Shēdo asked, intrigued.

“It isn’t safe for me here, in Equestria,” Chromium replied. “Too many of the wrong sorts are tempted by my body. My scales are made from precious silver, steel, white gold, and platinum. I have no desire to harm anyone, nor do I wish to be chopped up and butchered to be somebody’s fortune.”

“Hmm.” Still rubbing her jowls, Shēdo was no longer certain of her own position on the issue. Perhaps she had the wrong idea about slavery. Perhaps Dig Dag had made slavery bad, like he made everything else bad. Maybe there was good slavery that she had never heard about, but she had her doubts. It still felt wrong to own another creature.

“I will confess, dragons have a very different concept of ‘ownership’ than you other creatures. When we add something to our hoard, a living thing, it is there for boasting purposes, for bragging, it is a means for us to show off our wealth, our real wealth, which is our learning and our knowledge. I have imparted a great deal of my learning, my wealth into Conifer. I am pleased with him as a project. I am proud to put him on display. He is one of my finest achievements, perhaps my greatest achievement. I’ve owned ponies, griffons, and even a diamond dog, whose loyalty knew no bounds.”

“Shēdo very confused.” She held out her paw with one diggy-diggy claw extended. “Ownership different than slavery?”

“In my opinion, yes,” Chromium replied. “Slaves have no free agency, no say in their care, and are powerless to those who oppress them. Conifer has free agency, he is free to voice his opinions, make complaints, and after much discussion, he and I worked together on the plan to get him a new owner so that he might see Equestria, as is his wont. I want him to be free and happy. I want him to go around boasting, ‘I was educated by Chromium the Dragon.’ What I don’t want is a bunch of savages butchering him for dinner and destroying all of my hard work. As his owner, I have a right to protect my investment, and transfer my ownership and interest to another.”

“But why Shēdo?”

“Well, to start,” Chromium replied, “you were willing to draw steel against a dragon to enforce what you think is right. You watched and waited in a tree to study me, rather than just come charging in an assuming that I was the one responsible for what those poor ponies lost. As a diamond dog, you haven’t lost your shine… there is still honour about you, and I trust in that honour because of previous experience with one of my possessions.”

Whimpering a bit, Shēdo had trouble making words happen. “I… I… I am… confused.” She felt a rising shudder in her girth and her hind legs felt too weak so she sat down, mindful to not sit on her tail. “Nothing makes sense. Right and wrong all upside down and wonky. What do?”

“I suppose this means I won,” Chromium said, and the dragon didn’t sound all that happy about his victory. Reaching down, he gave Shēdo a pat on the back. “There there… had I any interest in staying, I think I would take you into my hoard. You would make a very fine possession.”

“That no make sense.” Shēdo tilted her head back and looked up at the dragon. “You say you trust in Shēdo, but you take Conifer from bad diamond dogs. I cannot understand.” Sitting on the soft loam, she tried to make her mind work, she tried to recall all Minori’s lessons, and cursed the fact that she had not sat still, had not paid attention, and had not pushed herself harder like Long Ears and Kabuki. Not only was Shēdo worried about her status as a good dog, she now worried if she was a dumb dog. Dig Dag was both bad and dumb, a big mean stupid head.

There was too much inside of her own head. She still hadn’t howled for those she had lost and her grief was heavy upon her heart. None of this made sense. She felt the dragon patting her on the back with one enormous claw and Conifer was now sitting beside her, studying her face, which she found annoying.

“Behold, Conifer, the struggle of being a good dog in a land terrified of canine-kind.” The dragon’s voice was a comforting, smouldering rumble. “This is why we assume that a creature is good, until they give us sufficient evidence that they are not. Do you understand, Conifer?”

The zebra colt nodded. “Yes, Chromium, I understand.”

“Elucidate,” Chromium demanded.

Put on the spot, the zebra colt just sat there, staring at Shēdo, and his face contorted with concentration. He looked up at the dragon, then back at Shēdo. “I understand it, but I’m having trouble expressing it. She’s a diamond dog, so it is safe to make certain, reasonable assumptions, made in the interest of one’s own safety, but it is not really fair to do, because the factors that I use to make those assumptions are based upon how diamond dogs are viewed as a whole group, and not the individual…” The colt’s words trailed off and a pained expression crossed his face. Reaching out, he touched Shēdo with a hoof.

“Continue. Now.”

Looking up at Chromium, Conifer appeared as though he had a bad taste in his mouth. “The assumptions are valid though, or valid enough, given my own circumstances and how I came to be in your care. I was a slave to the diamond dogs. But having given Shēdo a chance to express herself, to get to know her, I guess we are left with a conundrum of safety versus self-enrichment. I could be safe and assume that as a diamond dog, she is dangerous, or, I could assume that she is good, put my potential safety at risk, and be rewarded… is that right?”

“Right enough,” Chromium replied, waving his claws at Conifer.

“Now Shēdo very confused.” Leaning into the dragon’s claw, she tried to get it to rub in the right places. She was worried, Limey was quiet, too quiet, and this bothered her.

“Shēdo faces this same conundrum, I think,” Conifer added, and he looked the diamond dog in the eye for a moment before turning away to look at the ground. “I think she assumed that all forms of ownership were wrong, perhaps because of her own experiences, given how diamond dogs like to take slaves and abuse them. She faces the same conflict that I do, but she is on the other side of it. Chromium, I do not know how I feel about having a diamond dog owner again.”

“Thanks in part to serendipitous circumstances, it is my final lesson to you.” Chromium smiled, and he scratched Shēdo’s back. “Of course, there is still the issue of retrieving my seeing stone and dealing with those horrendous creatures in the cave before she takes possession of you…”

A warrior’s measure is in their confidence, and I fear Shēdo’s confidence is shaken. All that mumbo-jumbo being spouted by that self righteous twit of a silver dragon. All that talk of safety versus self-enrichment. He’s the one leaving Equestria to save his own precious, silver scales. He’s a coward, plain and simple.

Even worse, his words have shaken Shēdo’s confidence and there is something awful in that cave. I can’t tell what it is, but I can sense it. Some very big rats await us in the cellar, so to speak. It’s going to take me forever to set Shēdo’s thinking straight, to make her thinking right. There is no right or wrong, there is only what you make right and force others to believe.

Just like those insufferable, self-righteous alicorns and their morals. Sure, life is great if you share their morals, but if you don’t, expect banishment. Or to be cast into a sword. That big, dopey silver dragon can afford to be self-righteous and smarmy, he’s a silver dragon! Why, they’re practically alicorns unto themselves… yes, yes the silver and golden dragons are the smarmy, loquacious alicorns of dragonkind, always telling others what to do, how to think, and what right and wrong is, then enforcing it with unspeakable brutality!

Ugh!

And poor Shēdo ran afoul of one of those wretched beasts before I had the chance to properly fortify her mind. Now, she’s all confused with this talk of morality. The last thing we need is a moral Warlord. What we need is the chaos of war, the driving force for change. And maybe a little friendship—GAH! What am I saying? What did that snotty little filly do to me?

Still, it might be nice to have a zebra around. Shēdo needs a pack mule and if worst comes to worst, we can sell him or trade him for things we might need. That is, if we don’t just take what we need from the weak. We are the Warlord, after all. Conifer can be our minion, I suppose, for a time. Perhaps he can be exploited somehow.

Author's Note

What's this? I seem to have found a new a space into which I can project my thoughts!

Keep an eye on that bitch

The cave was dark and spooky. Shēdo advanced, cautious, peering ahead, intrigued by the pale blue light that she saw. Her paws made no sound as she crept along, she walked on shadows and was little more than an amorphous grey shape against the sloping wall. Shēdo’s sharp eyes had no trouble seeing in the faint light, indeed, she was at an advantage here.

“Shēdo—”

“Hush,” Shēdo whispered, hushing Limey.

“Shēdo, no one can hear me but you, now listen to me.” Limey cleared his throat, an impressive act for something that didn’t have a throat. “There is something dangerous here, I can sense it. That lousy, good for nothing silver dragon has tricked you into coming in here, and if you aren’t careful, you are going to die. Even worse, that works out to the silver dragon’s advantage, as he can promise the next adventurer that comes along that there is a magical sword in this cave.”

Upon hearing this, Shēdo paused for a moment and rested her back against the wall.

“I’m not certain what lies ahead, but I don’t like it. This isn’t the usual send the hero to kill all the rats in the cellar quest. Do you know what it takes to threaten a silver dragon? Silver dragons do a lot more than just breathe fire, they use magic, Shēdo.”

“What do?” Shēdo breathed.

“We could back out—”

“No. We do this.” Shēdo drew in a deep breath to steel her nerves, and then began creeping ahead once more. “We gave word to do right. Give help. Silver dragon honourable. We also help earth ponies.”

Limey sighed, an odd sound when heard inside and outside of the head. “The Warlord should be a figure of great renown…” He sighed again, let out a faint chuckle, and then added, “I’ll do my best to protect you. Trust in me Shēdo, I need you just as much as you need me.”

“Uh huh.” Nodding, Shēdo dropped down to all fours, but remained pressed up against the wall as she approached an unknown shape up ahead. She sniffed, but didn’t recognise the smell. It was dead though, or at least she thought it was. Nose almost to the ground, she kept going.

She couldn’t be sure, but what might have been a goat lay on the ground. It was dried out, shriveled, and desiccated. Sniffing it made her brain feel jumbled, as all of the scents were wrong. Not too far away from the goat was a puddle of glowing blue liquid that had a foul stench.

Lo, not only is our heroine confused, but so is her trusty sword. His memory isn’t exactly what it once was, and this bothers him, because he is genuinely concerned for his bearer’s safety. A glowing blue puddle of urine is quite a warning sign and if our beloved, wonderful sword still had his magnificent turtle-tortoise body, he would be hiding inside of his own shell right now.

Of course, hiding inside of a shell isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when some snotty, overbearing, dominating filly comes along and decides that you’d serve the universe better as a head separator. Why she would think such a thing is beyond me, but here I am, a head separator, and I no longer have my lovely shell, just a sheath that looks an awful lot like a turtle-tortoise shell.

Ignoring the narration, Shēdo focused on sniffing as she snuck ahead, and she was little more than a silent shadow amongst the shadows. She moved past the dried out remains of what might have been a goat, beyond the glowing blue puddle, and she came to a halt when she found more remains on the ground.

There was no mistaking it, this had once been a foal. It too, was dried out and little more than a husk. The pinched, mummified face was frozen in a rictus of pain and terror. Almost holding her breath, Shēdo placed a paw upon it, not knowing why she did, but she gave the remains a gentle pat to comfort them perhaps, or maybe bring comfort to herself.

She understood why Chromium chose to keep Conifer safe and gave up his seeing stone.

Whatever was down here, it was awful. Shēdo’s ears lifted a bit as she tensed, trying to listen. She pressed her diggy-diggy claws against the stone, hoping to feel minute vibrations that might give away her enemies. There was a wet musty smell, decay, and something rancid… something wrong. Whatever had sucked the foal dry had a wretched stink to them.

“I just can’t seem to remember,” Limey grumbled to himself.

Breathing deep, Shēdo tried to remember what Minori had told her about walking on shadows, all those lessons, lessons about the Black Hound and how he walked on shadows. If you walked on shadows and not on the ground, your paws never touched and you never made a sound… that was the lesson. Long Ears and Kabuki didn’t walk on shadows and didn’t get this lesson, this was a lesson just for Shēdo.

Beware the Black Hound

For he walks on the shadows

And comes for your head.

Feeling most peculiar, Shēdo could no longer feel the rough stone against the pads of her paws, just something soft, silken, almost velvety. Her claws did not click, did not clatter, no sound gave her away as she slunk forwards, not even the sound of her breathing. What were those awful verses that Minori recited called? She couldn’t remember. So many of them made her shiver and some were so awful that she whimpered while covering her eyes with her paws.

The Black Hound hungers

How he seeks the blackest hearts

With bitter black souls.

The diamond dog pup seemed to glide forwards and she was almost impossible to see. She had become shadow, she was Shēdo. She had become the silent, vengeful hunter, and she caught sight of her prey. She did not draw her sword, no, as that would make noise, but continued creeping ahead upon the odd, floating creature made of many eyes. It was a small one.

Beholder!

She ignored the voice that had no source and continued her stealthy advance.

Beholder kin! Gazers! Eye tyrants! Eyebeasts! Get out of here, Shēdo! RUN!

Diggy-diggy claws at the ready, Shēdo pounced. Nothing more than a shadow, she drifted through the air until she collided with the floating horror that had far too many eyeballs, some of them protruding from the ends of long, slime dripping eye stalks. She rammed her diggy-diggy claws into the creature’s main eye, which was much larger, and hot, bitter-salty jelly spurted from the punctures she made. The creature crashed to the ground with a wet splat, and Shēdo continued stabbing it with her claws, over and over, she sunk her diggy-diggy claws into its disgusting, puffy, flabby flesh.

It died, and as it died, its keening cry filled the cave. A growing blue puddle of glowing blood spread from the creature as it died, which was thicker, goopier than the see through liquid Shēdo had found near the dried out victims. The eye creature deflated, making squeaky, squirty sounds, like her backside sometimes did when she ate ruint meat.

“Shēdo, we need to flee!”

“No.” Shēdo’s voice was calm and her breathing slow.

A long low moan of frustration came from Limey, then he said, “Fine, draw me. I can shield your mind from their control rays and insanity rays. You can also use me to parry their spells… Shēdo, beholders are changelings that have gone horribly bad… mutated… some unknown magic turned them into… whatever they are now. They are fantastically dangerous!”

A burbling sound filled the cave, and Shēdo rose into a bipedal stance while she drew her sword. It was time to kill. No more time spent as a skulking shadow. No more hiding. It was time to make these creatures pay for what they had done. The dried out foal was fresh in Shēdo’s mind and her soul cried out for blood, no matter what colour it might be.

The first of the creatures floated into sight and Shēdo readied herself for combat.

“HAI!” Shēdo flew through the air, her ears flapping, her sword raised overhead. A blast of energy shot from the approaching gazer’s eyestalk and she clubbed at the bolt of bright energy with the flat of her sword, swatting it aside. Still in the air, she brought her sword around and came down upon the beholder with a fierce, cleaving chop.

The gaseous creature exploded on impact, spraying gas propelled ichor and effluvia everywhere. A foul blue mist enveloped Shēdo, who landed with her sword raised and ready. She sidestepped an incoming orb of bright yellow light, a mad, chaotic light, unpleasant and grim. It was not a healthy shade of yellow, but rather, the yellow of putrefaction, of sickness. It was the yellow of an infected wound made rotten with disease and fever.

More orbs were incoming, Shēdo smacked one with her sword, sidestepped another, and then was struck by one. She felt delightfully mad and for a second, she wanted to run herself through with her own sword. Try as she might, she was unable to do to so, it resisted her, and after a few confused blinks, her mind cleared.

“KAI!” Leaping, she hurled herself at the eye tyrant, took a swipe, and missed. The creature let out a gross flatulent sound and gurgle-squirted away, leaving behind a foul-smelling cloud. Her sword might have missed, but she managed to rake it with her diggy-diggy claws, which sliced it open and made blue goo geyser out.

Bringing her sword to bear, she lifted the blade in a mighty upward chop and connected with what she believed to be the beholder’s backside. The strike lacked force and the creature, much larger than the first she had encountered, was only sliced open. “BANZAI!” Kicking out with her hind leg, she kicked the gross creature in its blue bloodied backside, and then connected with a sweeping sidelong strike, cutting off several eyestalks.

“FLURBLEBLURBLUB!” the creature flurbleblurblubbed in agony. “GLORPNISHU!”

Lunging, Shēdo impaled the creature on her blade, the tip protruding from its central eye, which was facing away from her. Raising a hind leg once more, she braced it against the now dead creature and yanked her blade free, sending boiling hot jets of bright blue blood spraying out all over the room.

“Here comes another, Shēdo! Strike with fury! Make them fear the Warlord Ketsueki!”

Turning sideways to make her profile thinner, Shēdo advanced in the Ochs position. The incoming eye tyrant launched a blizzard of spell orbs and beams at her, some yellow, some green, some blue, and one had a distinct plaid colour. She sidestepped some, dodged others, parried a few, and was struck by a blue glittering orb that originated from a square pupiled eye atop an eyestalk.

It hit her in the left elbow and she felt her left arm go numb. The whole left side of her body felt heavy, it was even difficult to blink her left eye. She was stiff and found it difficult to move, to advance. The diamond dog pup had trouble raising her left arm and was forced to keep using her sword with one paw. Snarling, she lunged forwards, took a yellow orb right to the face, and she felt her mind lapse into madness once more while her blade slipped into the gazer’s central eye.

Yanking backwards with a swift, sudden jerk, she yanked her sword free and watched as the creature tumbled down to the ground, its eyestalks flailing as it made gross squishy noises. Raising her left paw, which was heavy and didn’t want to move, she leaned over the creature and brought her left paw down, stomping on it. It popped in much the same way a cyst or a boil popped when pressure was applied, and the gaping hole in its central eye spurted out clots of quivering, quaking jelly as the beholder collapsed beneath Shēdo’s paw.

Off balance, she slipped in the slick eye-jelly and took a tumble that left her sitting on her backside. Somehow, she kept her sword in her right paw, and didn’t cut herself. Growling, she smacked the creature away from her with a spank of her sword, and it’s flaccid, deflated corpse tumbled away, its eyestalks slapping against the stone.

The last and final beholder advanced, emitting a never-ending stream of spells from its various eyes. Shēdo rolled away, her left side still limp and unresponsive, which made movement difficult, though not impossible. Stumbling, she raised her blade in front of her face, causing the witchfire glow to reflect in her eyes, eyes filled with savage ferocity, eyes that had turned a sickly shade of yellow with bright scarlet irises.

Barking with rage, Shēdo hurled her sword at the last beholder and through the air it flew, going end over end. More spells flew from the eyebeast and some of them struck Shēdo. The sword flew true though and cleaved the creature, severing it into two halves. With a bright green flash of witchfire, Limey blinked out of existence, only to reappear in Shēdo’s paw an eyeblink later.

It was over, the dreadful creatures were dead. Shēdo let out a ferocious howl and then began to wait for the madness to pass, for the paralysis to ease off. Growling, she gripped Limey, her yellow eyes glaring in the pale blue light that emanated from the spilled blue blood. She was drenched in blood once more, not scarlet this time, but a brilliant, glowing azure.

“Breathe, Shēdo… let the madness out!”

Author's Note

I apologise, you were probably expecting rats.

If you give a bitch a bath

In the pale blue and green light, Shēdo dragged herself along while using the cave wall for support. The left side of her body was still heavy, unresponsive, and didn’t want to work. Limey’s green witchfire stood out in sharp contrast to the glowing blue blood that covered every surface, and Shēdo as well.

At the end of a tunnel was a wide open cavernous expanse and in the center of that was a pillar made of rotting, bloated corpses that went from floor to ceiling. Protruding from the corpses were glowing blue orbs that pulsed with an unwholesome bluish light, an unnatural, unhealthy bioluminescence. In the middle of it all, lodged in what could only be described as shaped rotten meat, was a glowing gemstone that shimmered with every colour of the rainbow.

“Those are eggs, Shēdo,” Limey said to his blood-drenched companion as she stumbled along. “Eggs of the most evil creatures that have ever existed. They’re drawing upon the magic from the gemstone so they can incubate into future grotesque horrors. There has to be twenty or more… that’s an army of beholders and the seeing stone has to be quite powerful for so many eggs to have been laid.”

“An army of those?” Shēdo’s words were slow to come out as she stared at the blue eggs. Fighting just a few had almost been her undoing, even with Limey. A few more paralysis spells… she thought of the dried out husks she had found, and the rotten column of flesh before her festooned with eggs.

“Beholders feed on raw magic, emotions, and dreams,” Limey said to his companion, trying to explain the evil that Shēdo was witnessing. “First they take over the mind, strip away the self, and like a zombie, you will follow the eye tyrant into its lair. They’re incredibly dangerous and even pose a threat to immortal draconequus spawns… we’re a foodsource that will last forever and they will feed on us in perpetuity… I’ve heard stories, Shēdo, awful stories.”

The gore-coated diamond dog didn’t understand what Limey was saying, not all of it, but she did understand the threat posed by these creatures. A few had almost been her undoing, but all these eggs? So many would suffer and Shēdo was smart enough to figure out on her own that they would seek out other magical artifacts to feed on… like her sword, which was magical.

Limping over to the pillar of rotting meat, Shēdo stared down her muzzle, peering into a glowing blue egg and saw… a thing swimming around inside of the rubbery, mucus covered orb. She knew exactly what needed to be done, and with a disgusted grimace, she drove Limey’s tip into a slimy, rubbery egg that was the size of her head. Blue goo spurted out, along with a stench that was like a gangrenous wound, and glowing blue spores floated in the air like horrendous, diseased snowflakes.

“Gross!” Limey cried while he shuddered in Shēdo’s paw, quite a feat for an inanimate object.

Shēdo backed away a bit, and then stabbed another egg, then another, and then another. Like lanced boils, the eggs drained out, becoming shriveled, collapsing in upon themselves once opened and allowed to empty. Some of the eggs hissed when poked, and larval eyebeasts squirmed as they dribbled down the column of putrescent, rotten meat, dying, exposed, no longer sheltered in their eggs.

Taking no chances, Shēdo destroyed every egg, taking the time to turn each and every one into a ruined mess. She paused and looked into a bloated, somewhat rotten eye that had turned a milky bluish-white colour. It peered out at her from a mouth webbed over with a strange, almost scabby, stretchy material. There would be no unseeing this and Shēdo knew that what she had seen would haunt her for the rest of her days.

Lo, our heroine takes it upon herself to do an extreme act, killing the unborn young of an evil species with only the word of her trusty sword to guide her. In my own defense, I am telling the truth; these are creatures of the purest evil. They cannot be reasoned with, cannot be brokered with, they only exist to kill, to destroy, to consume life and magic. They are one of the few creatures that draconequus spawns truly fear, as beholder-kin have no sense of humour, no sense of fun. Even alicorns, for all of their self-righteousness, or silver and gold dragons can be made to laugh once and awhile. Eye tyrants share no such love of life or humour, all they know is the same hunger as the changelings, but driven to an extreme, unimaginable level.

“Too many big words,” Shēdo said as she slumped over, exhausted, in pain, and succumbing to the creeping paralysis that plagued her body. “Is this death? Is Shēdo dying?”

“Well, if your lungs stop working and the paralysis affects your heart, yes it is, and yes you are,” was Limey’s chipper reply to Shēdo’s inquiry. “Grab that gem, Shēdo, and let’s get out of here. I’m betting that big, arrogant prick of a dragon has some means to help you. Just because you are dying, that is no reason to give up.”

“Right.” Shēdo tried to nod, but found that she couldn’t. Her head just sagged against her neck. With a few swipes, she cut the gem free from the disgusting, stretchy, scabby webbing that held it in place, and it clattered to the floor. Sighing, she slid Limey into his sheath, then hunkered down to recover the gem.

It was warm in her paw and it made her diggy-diggy claws tingle. Hunkered down, she stood on three legs, wobbling on her left side as she held the gem up in her right front paw. At least she could still wag her tail, and she did so. She was a free dog now and could wag her tail at any time she felt like it.

“Hurry, Shēdo, don’t waste any more time!”

Blinking, crawling on her belly, Shēdo pulled herself out into the sunlight. As expected, Chromium was waiting for her. What Shēdo did not expect was that the dragon didn’t seem too concerned about his shiny gemstone. She found herself lifted, held by magic, which radiated from the dragon’s claws.

A warm tingle throbbed through her body, making it easier to breathe. The pressure in her girth eased and her tongue lolled out as she began panting for more air, suspended above the ground as Chromium lifted her to examine her. Close to his muzzle, Shēdo realised that she could be stuffed into the dragon’s nostril, and she felt very small.

“What did I tell you, Conifer?” Chromium said to his teeny, tiny pupil. “Puppy though she might be, she has a touch of destiny about her. Well, that and her sword, but the less said about that the better. Such an odd thing, a strange merging of draconequus spawn magic and alicorn magic… ah, but that is not a concern right now. This pup has been befouled.”

“Yuck!” Conifer said as he tilted his head back to look up.

“Conifer…”

“Yes?”

“Do not talk like a rube. Please use complete sentences. Thank you, Conifer.”

“Right!”

The dragon, not amused, let out a smokey sigh and grumbled, “Sexual maturity is not mental maturity.” The big beast then shuffled off, walking on two legs while using his tail for balance. Holding Shēdo up before him, he focused on her, and the big silver dragon looked worried. After a few steps, he was a big dragon, so his steps were very large, he plopped Shēdo down into a stone basin.

With a wave of his claw, he conjured warm water, Drenching Shēdo, and then lowered his head down to have a better look at her. With his magic, he pulled her sword away and laid it on the edge of the stone basin beside her, then began conjuring up necessities he needed. Soap, a stout scrubbing brush, and a large, ornate silver brush that had a mirror on the back.

“While you were in the cave, Conifer and I had a discussion,” Chromium said as he poured more warm water over Shēdo, completely drenching her. “He is willing to give you a chance, as his new owner, and he has given me his word that he will not hold the past against you. As a possession, he has a few reasonable demands, which I will leave the two of you to discuss.”

Resting her head against the edge of the stone basin, Shēdo looked up at the silver dragon, but did not reply. The water felt good, it was warm, but not too warm. Her left side was still unresponsive, but the crushing feeling on her girth was gone and she could breathe. She was too tired to argue, too sore, and while she did not feel comfortable with this arrangement at all, she was willing to give it a chance. Perhaps she might learn something. Maybe Minori might even approve of such action, had she too, listened to the dragon.

“If you can handle the foul beasts that lurked within the cave, I feel that you can keep Conifer safe. He is very valuable, I cannot stress this enough. He has my thoughts inside of his head, my thinking, my learning, my cogitations. He is a vessel filled with my ideas, and by extension, I am giving those ideas, those thoughts, I am giving that to you.”

Blinking, Shēdo had trouble understanding what was said, but it sounded important.

“More than that, I am fond of Conifer. I see no difference between him as a vessel for my learning, than say, something I might have helped to create by fertilizing an egg. I don’t see much of a difference in vessels, now that I am older, but in my foolish youth, I did believe for a time that dragon vessels hatched from eggs I had a part in making were vastly superiour. It took me a few thousand years, but I have since become more enlightened in my views.”

Wiggling one enormous claw, the dragon went to work getting rid of the soiled water and refilling the basin with fresh water, which became soiled right away. Looking annoyed, Chromium allowed Shēdo to soak for a bit before he changed the water again.

“When I was young, I was a foolish thing,” Chromium said to Shēdo in a soft voice that belied his size. “I was a silly hatchling that ate only gems, because they were sweet and delectable. It made my scales hard, sure, and kept my teeth sharp, but a dragon does not properly grow on gems alone. They remain small, tiny, and linger in this state until they learn to consume what is good for them.”

The dragon paused and scratched his chin with his other claws.

“I had to develop my palate, so to speak,” he continued and lazy curls of smoke rose from his mouth. “So it was with wisdom. I found the idea that mammals could be as smart as dragons quite unpalatable…” His words faded into another pause and he kept scratching his chin while looking down at Shēdo. “I had to learn to consume many bitter minerals, just as I had to learn to consume many bitter truths. I had to learn to stomach things that I had no taste for, just because they were good for me, and good for my development. When I learned to stomach what I didn’t much like, I grew as a dragon, both in physical stature and in wisdom.”

Waving his claws, he made the dirty water go away and filled the basin with warm, fresh water, conjured up from deep underground. This time, he levitated up a bottle of liquid soap and squirted some into the basin with Shēdo, then stirred the water with his claw, as if he was stirring a soapy dog soup.

“Not every dragon learns this lesson, and the ones that never develop a taste for bitter minerals or bitter truths, they do not grow much.” Blinking a few times, Chromium lowered his head a little closer to Shēdo. “Now, you have become one of my vessels, for I have imparted some of my trove into the confines of your mind. I have increased your worth, your value, and a little part of me, my thinking, my wisdom, it will live on through you. I have grown ever larger as a dragon because of this, because my thoughts, my thinking, they fill so many. Giving away my learning has not diminished me, but has made me greater. More dragons need to learn this truth before their greed consumes them.”

Humming to himself, Chromium went to work with the scrubbing brush and began to attack the filth that crusted over Shēdo’s fur. Shēdo, closing her eyes, lost herself in the moment, not accustomed to such kindness. The dragon had said a lot of words, and Shēdo supposed that they were there in her head somewhere, even if she didn’t understand them, she could reflect upon them later. She did have one question though, however.

“Shēdo want to know, what do seeing stone do?”

Author's Note

Oh noes, the chapter ended on a question! :raritycry:

A bitch abandoned

“The seeing stone,” the dragon replied, “is a clever little trinket from a bygone era. It was created by four great powers, alicorns who rose to the very pinnacle of their magical might. Terra Firma provided the stone, calling it up from the heart of the earth. Eternity and Chronos connected it to time and magic. Pale allowed it to touch dead memories, the memories that no one remembers anymore, because they are no longer part of living memory.” The dragon’s tail curled around his body and his eyes looked distant.

“The stone allows you to see the history of an area… like this place. If one looks into the stone, one will see all of the things that have transpired here in this immediate location and its surrounding areas. One can keep looking further and further back, getting to know the real history of what took place. This makes the stone very, very dangerous, and many have tried to destroy it. It is a stone that tells truth, defies kings and queens, and reveals all of the dirty secrets that many wish were lost to history.”

Shēdo was unable to keep up with all of these words, and her eyes glazed over as she soaked in her bath. It sounded incredible, but also incomprehensible.

“I use it to teach young Conifer here history. We go from place to place and I go looking for what might be interesting. I’ve seen much and so has Conifer.” Chromium continued scrubbing Shēdo in an absentminded manner as his gaze settled on the distant horizon. “I’ve watched empires begin and end. This place though, this place has an amazing history to it. This is where a young pair of sisters waged their first real war and began to carve out a kingdom. All hope was thought lost. A great enemy was believed dead, Grogar, but now in his absence, others came to claim what was left, like Discord.”

The pup had no idea who Discord was, though she had heard the name before.

“Two sisters led what is now called the First Tribes. They began to settle here, in this place, right in the very place where things had gone wrong so many eons ago. They carved a civilisation out of the wilderness and began pushing north, to more fertile, but also more dangerous lands. They tamed the weather, they battled monsters, they dealt with the hazardous, raw magic storms that sprang up in this area. There were so few survivors, and there seemed to be so little hope, but the Princess of the Sun acted like a beacon. She drew other ponies and other noble creatures to her cause with her bright, shining light—”

“Like you!” Conifer quipped.

“Yes, like me.” Chromium nodded. “We took back the land from savage barbarity… funny, that seems like just a few moments ago, though in reality it’s been almost… I want to say… almost two thousand years? Time blurs as I mature and passing years mean less and less.” The dragon let out a smoky chuckle and then continued, “Little Sun Princess… she witnessed one empire’s end, she watched her entire civilisation fall to ruin, and rather than despair, she chose to make another. That’s plucky, I’ll tell you what.”

“Shēdo’s kind has fallen from grace.” The diamond dog pup struggled with the words and she squirmed in the basin of soapy water. “We once had land… a good place. We fell to war. Did bad things. Fought and killed each other. No more honour. No more goodness.”

“Ah yes… the fall of Inujima.” Looking pained, Chromium rolled Shēdo over in her bath and began scouring her other side. “The code of honour became too inflexible, too rigid. Like an old tree that has become too hard, too stout, and therefore, too unyielding, there was no way to bend into the winds of change when they came a blowing. A love of hard work and industry gave way to slavery, which led to laziness and societal rot. These changes were invited in, and wreaked disaster.”

All of this was quite interesting, but Shēdo couldn’t keep up with it. Try as she might, she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. The warm water was pleasant, so was the scrubbing, and she could feel the filth matted into her coat being worked free. Closing her eyes, the pup slipped off into a dreamless slumber, and her last thoughts were of the Sun Princess’ pluck.

There were a million stars overhead, and many of them were reflected in Chromium’s mirror-finished silver scales. The dragon was stargazing, or trying to, but suffered the distractions of a young zebra who would not stop nuzzling and rubbing his face against their diamond dog visitor. Sighing, the dragon looked down, and he gave Conifer a stern glare, which the colt utterly ignored, so focused was he upon his new canine companion.

“What have I told you about respecting the space of others?” Chromium asked.

“But, she’s so fluffy!” the zebra colt replied as he rubbed his cheek against Shēdo. “Well, parts of her are. It feels so good!”

Reaching out with her paw, Shēdo tried to push the touchy-feely zebra away, but it was no use and her attempt felt futile even as she did it. Now, the colt was nuzzling her still somewhat numb left arm. Resigning herself to this indignity, she gave up and allowed herself to receive fuzzy-wuzzy-muzzle-nuzzles from the overly affectionate zebra colt. Her zebra colt now, apparently.

“She’s so soft, so clean, so fuzzy, and she smells good!” Conifer, no longer being pushed away, redoubled his efforts and almost knocked Shēdo over as he rubbed, catlike, against Shēdo.

“I wouldn’t know. My scales protect me from much sensation. I shall have to take your word for it, Conifer.” Perhaps realising that Shēdo didn’t mind, the dragon returned to his stargazing, his tail forming a protective wall around both Shēdo and Conifer.

Shēdo, who wasn’t used to such affection, found that it intruded upon her thoughts. She thought about the beholders, she thought about her own kind, she thought about Inujima, and she thought about slavery. She might own Conifer, a status she wasn’t entirely happy about, but he was not her slave. Having decided to go along with what the dragon wanted, Shēdo resolved to treat the zebra as a treasured possession, and to have him as her equal. Uncomfortable though she might be, she focused on the aspects of servitude this ownership presented, and her mind was hard at work trying to establish some sort of meaningful code of honour, which was not easy to construct from scratch.

A free dog, Shēdo had concluded that she could make her own code of honour, and the thought was heavy in her mind. How others viewed Conifer would be a reflection of what sort of dog she was, so he needed to remain, clean, well fed, and happy. She would serve him as his protector, his caretaker, and she would make certain that his needs were met before her own. This was how ownership should be, at least in Shēdo’s mind.

If something harmed her zebra, heads would roll in all directions. There would be no hesitation, no doubt, only fury. After all, those who would bring harm to her zebra were no doubt deserving of such fate, it would be a clear sign that violence was, indeed, the answer. Yes, Shēdo would treat others how they treated her zebra, her possession. If they treated him as a lesser being, then Shēdo would do the same to them. And if they tried to take her zebra… she would cleave them in three… yes, three was a good number for cleaving. Three was the best number, one that Shēdo understood.

The zebra would be her guide for how to deal with others, and what mercy she might offer them.

A warm, wet nose pressed into Shēdo’s neck and she wished the zebra would go away. She was sleeping, or trying to. She growled, not a mean growl, but more of a ‘go away, I’m trying to sleep’ growl. The zebra, insistent, snuffled against her neck, and that tickled. Reaching out with one powerful arm, she grabbed the colt around the neck, pulled him down, and snuggle-smooshed him. He was a bit smaller than she was, and he was warm.

“He’s gone!”

Half-awake, Shēdo could not make sense of what was being said, and she felt the colt shuddering beside her. Was he cold? No… he was… crying. Opening one eye, Shēdo was blinded by sunny, dazzling brilliance. Conifer was cuddling up against her, and his face was damp with tears.

“He’s gone! He left in the night while we were sleeping!”

Oh. Reaching out with one rough paw, Shēdo wiped the colt’s face and she felt one of his forelegs wrap around her neck. Conifer wasn’t very big, not really, his legs were thin, spindly things, and his body was fragile, which made Shēdo wonder how ponies and zebras survived so much. Hers was a body made to take abuse, with heavy, dense bones, tough muscles, and a thick, leathery hide that provided some natural armor.

Conifer’s soft, mewling cries became big, gasping sobs. Fumbling about, Shēdo managed to sit up, and she pulled Conifer into her lap. With a bit more fumbling, she managed to rest his head upon her shoulder and she wrapped both of her long, powerful forearms around his slender middle. The colt was soft, smelled like soap, and Shēdo wondered how long it would last.

Nearby was a pile of stuff, some saddlebags and what not. There was, however, no dragon present, which meant that it was just her now protecting Conifer from the wilderness. Well, her and Limey. Already, her mind was arranging its many priorities. The earth ponies would need to know that the missing ones had died.

“Talk to me,” the zebra colt begged between sobs. “I’m sad.”

“Shēdo sorry,” she replied, not knowing what to say. “Shēdo keep you safe now, and do good to you. Will keep you happy.”

“Thank you.” Conifer collapsed himself against Shēdo’s girth, closed his eyes, and took comfort in the shelter of her embrace. “I just woke up and he was gone. He left without saying goodbye.”

This was… nice… and Shēdo saw no need to hurry its end. She sat in the soft grass where she had slept, holding her zebra, and contemplating the glorious morning. He was soft too, in a different way than she was. His coat was short and parts of it were a little prickly, like around his neck. The colt was smooth and his skin was soft. As she stroked him, she could feel his dock, the base of his tail, brushing against the hard muscle of her thigh.

Burying her cold wet nose against him, she sniffed him, taking in his scent, and burning it into her brain. With time, she would know this scent and would be able to track him by smell, if they got separated somehow. Shēdo marveled at how small and delicate he really was. Shēdo was a tiny pup, but her paw was big enough to cover the entirety of Conifer’s face. Her forearm was thicker than his slender neck. His legs were like thin, bendy saplings, and she worried that they would break. Filled with canine curiousity, she explored the zebra she held in her lap, examining his every inch.

Even more alarming was Conifer’s spine, which seemed too thin to even be functional. With her thumb-pad, she felt along his vertebrae, and continued to wonder how equines survived with such fragile, easily broken bodies. It was terrifying, realising how easily crushed he could be. Shēdo was considered thin and fragile by her own species, something she was teased about, she wasn’t much of a dog at all, but she was as solid as a chunk of granite when compared to the zebra she held.

Of course, she had to eat gemstones or minerals to keep her bones strong and her muscles dense, otherwise, she would go soft and become fragile, like Conifer. She was startled by the contrasts between herself and her companion, which strengthened her resolve to keep him safe.

“Come, Conifer. We go. Much to do. Go visit ponies to tell them the news, then we go west. We go towards setting sun.”

“Can we have breakfast first?” Conifer asked.

“Yes,” Shēdo replied, and she wondered what she might be able to catch for breakfast. Then, she had an idea. “If we go to earth ponies, they might feed us.”

“Okay.” Conifer sniffled a bit, then wiggled free of Shēdo’s protective embrace.

“Shēdo need to tell you about Limey.”

“Who?”

“You see soon enough…”

Author's Note

Now, we go west, on adventure!

Teaching a bitch to use a toilet

Shēdo had a zebra. Or was he a zedbra? Chromium had called him a ‘zedbra,’ which left her with some lingering confusion. She wasn’t doing a very good job as his keeper, because he was already sad and confused. To make matters worse, Limey refused to speak, which was kind of annoying and left Shēdo feeling a bit grumpy.

Limey was going to go straight up the backside of something gross. That’d learn him.

On two legs, Conifer was just about half of her height. On four legs, they were a bit more equal, but Shēdo was still bigger, having both longer torso and legs. However, on all fours, Conifer was somehow faster, which posed a problem. Shēdo couldn’t have him getting too far ahead, where he might be vulnerable. The little colt was stronger than he looked, able to carry the saddlebags, some blankets, and whatever else he was burdened with.

There was a lot of stuff in his saddlebags.

The descent into the valley was easy enough, and the pony homestead was in view. Already, she could see tiny ponies in the distance, watching her, and she made no effort to hide herself. She wanted to be seen, she wanted them to know that it was safe. Conifer was now getting a bit too far ahead, so Shēdo rose up to a bipedal stance, which was faster. She moved, swinging her arms for balance, and behind her, her tail wagged the wag of a free, happy dog.

Bolero Danver looked mighty surprised to see Shēdo and Conifer. He was even more surprised to learn what was in the cave, and he was saddened by the news of the deaths. The patriarch of the earth pony clan seemed to be quite relieved to know that the dragon was gone, and Shēdo, wise little dog that she was, kept her mouth shut about her ownership of Conifer.

What was puzzling to Shēdo was, they didn’t quite seem happy about her return. She didn’t know why, but she suspected that it had something to do with her being the bearer of bad news. Or maybe it was something else, something she was unaware of. For whatever reason, Shēdo did not get the triumphant hero’s return that she had expected.

Even worse, it seemed that the earth pony clan wanted her and Conifer gone. There was no invitation to stay, no offers of breakfast, nothing. Rather than bemoan the fact, Shēdo, in silence, made the decision to leave. Her zebra was getting distrustful stares and she didn’t feel welcome. Yep, it was time to go and have a meal elsewhere.

It wasn’t hard to say goodbye.

Conifer had eaten a few apples that were in his saddlebags and Shēdo knew that she was going to have to do some hunting or fishing if she wanted to eat. The issue was, Conifer was not an ideal hunting partner, because the zebra liked to hum, whistle, or otherwise sing while he walked. As they headed in a general westward direction, at least, Shēdo thought they were going west because the morning sun was behind them, she kept an eye out for rotten logs that might be full of juicy, delicious grubs.

“You can’t live with ‘em, you can’t live without ‘em…”

Shēdo’s ears perked and she thought that Conifer had a nice voice.

“...there’s something irresistible-ish about ‘em! We grin and bear it ‘cause the nights are long… I hope that somethin’ better comes along!”

The song was a very silly song and Shēdo only half-listened while she focused on the world around them. There was no road, no trail, just trees, shrubs, and forest. They might be walking uphill, but the grade was so faint that Shēdo couldn’t be certain. There were a million scents in the air and the scent of fall overpowered them all. Winter was on the way and Shēdo had no idea on how to survive it, but that was a problem for another day.

Both Conifer and his singing came to an abrupt halt. Shēdo too, halted, and she peered ahead, trying to figure out what she was looking at in the clearing ahead. It was puzzling, and she had no idea what it might be. It was gleaming white and it looked a bit like a chair or a throne. The zebra colt laughed, but it did nothing to ease Shēdo’s growing tension.

“It’s a very public toilet!” Conifer announced in a loud voice.

What? Head tilting, Shēdo had no idea what a ‘toilet’ was. “Whassat?”

“It’s a toilet. The seat part is a bowl full of water and you sit on it so you can poop in it.”

“Why you poop in water?” Shēdo asked.

“Well… why… I don’t know,” Conifer replied. “Sanitation, I guess? Keeping things clean. When you are done, you flush away your business.”

“Pooping in water keeps things clean?” Shēdo was very confused now, and if this was civilisation, she wanted no part of it. “How do you drink water if there is poop in it?”

“Well, you don’t drink from a toilet, it’s for pooping and peeing.” Conifer turned his head and looked up at Shēdo’s hulking form just behind him.

“That’s dumb!” Shēdo threw out both paws in disgust and then stared at the toilet. “Water kept in clean place and you no drink, you poop in it? That just dumb! Shēdo not too smart, but Shēdo knows that she don’t poop in her drinking water! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb!”

“Well, I… uh, suppose there is a different perspective at work.” Conifer’s face contorted in confusion and once more, his head turned, this time towards the very public toilet up ahead in the middle of the clearing. “Anyhow, we should take advantage of the sanitation services being provided.”

“You gonna poop in that?” Shēdo asked.

Looking a little guilty, Conifer nodded. “Yes. That is what one does with toilets. It isn’t often that I get a chance to indulge in proper sanitation practices.”

“Why don’t we drink out of it instead?”

“Eeew! That’s yucky! You don’t drink from toilets!”

“You no poop in clean water.”

The zebra colt let out an exasperated sigh and then began to creep closer, puzzled by the appearance of a toilet out in the middle of nowhere. Of course, this was Equestria, which was full of strange things, including two sapient beings debating the merits of pooping versus drinking from a very public toilet.

Just as confused as her zebra, Shēdo followed, moving in a shuffling bipedal gait, her head high as she kept one wary eye on the very public toilet. It was clean, spotless, and a shade of white that Shēdo had never, ever seen before. Her diggy-diggy claws flexed at her sides while she tiptoed forwards, and unbeknownst to her, she had slipped into her natural stealthiness while maintaining her readiness to strike.

“One is forced to wonder who made such a very public toilet out here in the wilds,” Conifer said, chattering as he walked ahead of Shēdo, his big, brutish protector. “Though it is very convenient, because I need to go potty.”

Now standing next to the very public toilet, the zebra colt paused, smiled, and gave Shēdo a nod. “Look, I’ll show you how this is done so that way, when we’re in someplace civilised, you’ll know what to do.” Grinning, Conifer lifted the lid, his grin vanished while he let out a cry, and he began backing away from the toilet. “Somepony did not flush! How rude! Are those peanuts? I’m pretty sure those are peanuts!”

Indeed, there was a huge pile of logs in the gleaming white basin, with brown-green smears along the sides. Shēdo’s ears were attempting some sort of ear-gymnastics, and her jowls quivered with disgust. How could something do this to clean, fresh water? What sort of civilisation did ponies have where they built contraptions to punish, to torture their water with elaborate seats designed for shit-shaming humiliation? What had water ever done to ponies? What irrational hatred was this?

One thing was for certain, Shēdo was no longer thirsty.

“Time to flush that mess,” Conifer said as he reached up for a gleaming metal lever mounted on the side of the back of the toilet. “Watch, Shēdo, when I pull this lever, the poop will flow away and fresh, clean water will fill the bowl.”

“Ugh!” Shēdo facepawed and backed away, repulsed by life itself at this moment.

The zebra colt put one hoof on the lever, pushed down, and everything went wrong all at once. There was a rumble, the ground shook, and then gave way. Shēdo, who was quick, grabbed Conifer up in her paws, lept backwards, and ran away as a giant emerged from the earth, roaring out in fury.

“It’s a troll!” Conifer cried. “A public toilet troll! No wonder it wasn’t flushed!”

The clearing filled with cackling, maniacal, howling laughter and Limey made his presence known. The zebra colt, held in Shēdo’s paws, whimpered in fear. Behind them, the giant troll rose up from his hiding place in the earth, and he had to be a good twenty feet tall. The very public toilet protruded from his head at an angle from the right side.

Conifer’s pale magenta eyes were wide with terror.

Panting, Shēdo had to keep her zebra safe from the horrors of sanitation, which Shēdo reckoned was a fancy word for water torture. Holding the colt under one arm, she sprinted for the tree line, ignoring the faint numbness that lingered in the left side of her body. Behind her, the public toilet troll ripped a sapling from the ground to use as a club, and he began stomping after his prey.

“I don’t need to poop anymore!” Conifer screamed while Shēdo bounded through the trees.

Shēdo realised that she couldn’t fight while holding her zebra. To keep him safe, she was going to have to take a risk. Snarling, she put her zebra down and then gave him a powerful smack on his bottom to get him running. The spank of encouragement rang out like a thunderclap and with a kiyi-ing yelp that was more suited to a diamond dog, Conifer took off running.

With a growl, Shēdo drew Limey, turned around, and faced the advancing troll, who was blundering through the trees. She was a quarter of his size and she knew that if she wasn’t careful, she was going to be a smashed puddle of puppy pulp on the forest floor. Sword raised, she growled a out a warning.

“You no touch zebra!”

The troll, not impressed, raised up his club with one arm and then brought it down in a quick, savage blow. Shēdo darted away, sword raised and ready. When the troll began to raise his club, she went running behind him and took a swipe the the giant troll’s legs. Green, sticky sap-like liquid oozed forth, and Shēdo kept moving.

Standing still was either death or folly.

Rather than run away, Conifer came running back, his orange tongue flapping between his lips as he blew a raspberry at the troll. The colt kept his distance though, and acted as a distraction. Shēdo, moving behind the crouching, hulking troll, took this opportunity to strike. With a fierce howl, she rammed Limey up the troll’s cavernous, quivering crack, burying him hilt deep up the troll’s behind.

“Oh stars! The horror!” Limey’s voice was muffled from inside of the troll, and he let out a cry of disgust as the troll howled in pain. “Young lady! That was uncalled for!”

The troll, stabbed in his bottom, stood up, and Shēdo yanked her blade out from between the mossy, bark-covered cheeks. It was hard to pull out, the troll’s sap-like blood was sticky as glue, and Shēdo really had to give it everything she had, which was hard to do on an empty stomach.

Whirling about, the troll took a swipe at the diamond dog that had just gone in dry, hilt-deep, right up his backside. Limey let out a wordless cry of disgust, a nasal whine that echoed through the trees. Conifer was still running about and blowing raspberries at the troll, whose baleful attention was focused entirely upon Shēdo, who had just doggy-styled upon him.

Making a clumsy swipe, the troll might have scored a hit if Shēdo hadn’t parried with her blade, and a yard of the sapling was sheared off. It thumped to the ground behind Shēdo—the diamond dog pup raised her blade, keeping it high and ready for another attack. A troll was a terrifying enemy, difficult to kill, impossibly strong, and too stupid to know fear.

It was a good thing that Shēdo was too inexperienced to know what she was getting into.

Rushing forward, she stabbed it in the knee, then dove away, tucked, and rolled. Several yards from the troll, Shēdo returned to her paws, stood up, and once more, hunkered into a defensive crouch. The troll was healing, regenerating, and for the first time, Shēdo felt the cold claws of fear digging into her spine.

Baring her teeth, Shēdo prepared herself to face the very public toilet troll.

Author's Note

Is there nothing worse than a public toilet troll? :trollestia:

A bitch, battered

“You disgusting public toilet troll!” Limey screamed as Shēdo rolled away from the giant troll’s club. “You’re a nancy little self-fondling beta male! Shēdo has a stronger, louder piss stream than you do, you self-sounding, urethra-fingering mutant!”

The troll, having been trolled by the Master, roared in fury and the trees all around trembled from the force of the sound. Shēdo felt her toes dig into soft, rich soil, and she sprung away once more, not wanting to be smashed by the berserk troll that Limey had driven into a frenzy. It howled in rage and swung its ripped up sapling club, trying to flatten the much smaller diamond dog that kept leaping around at its feet.

“You malodorous toilet stall shit-scribbler!”

Enraged, the troll threw down what was left of its club and began stomping his rooted feet, trying to smoosh Shēdo. She took a chance and hacked at one rooted, gnarled foot, and Limey almost got stuck in the dense, wood-like extremity that was bleeding, gushing out sap. Shēdo was forced to jerk Limey free and she retreated, wary of the trolls massive hands trying to slap her.

“Your father felched his own wax dart out of your mother’s vile cleft, then vomited into your mother’s scab-encrusted, disease-riddled ass! That’s how you were brought into existence!”

At this point, the troll was sobbing with outrage, but Shēdo felt no pity for it. When the troll took a swing at her, she countered by lopping a few fingers off. The fingers, severed, fell to the ground, shrivelled, and turned into twisted twigs. Meanwhile, the troll’s hand was already healing, growing more fingers, and Shēdo, though not very smart, knew she was in trouble.

“Is that your penis, or is that a pine needle?” Limey asked, further taunting the troll. “With all that stringy hanging moss, it’s hard to tell!”

Unable to stop herself, Shēdo began chortling, and that turned into outright laughter, which made it difficult to keep a grip on her sword. Sprinting, she did her best to stay off to one side of the troll and kept Limey out in front of her, ready to strike when the opportunity came. Shēdo had relatively long hind legs for a diamond dog, and they served her well as she remained frustratingly out of reach.

“ME EAT YOU!” the troll bellowed, his voice a thunderclap. “ME EAT YOU DEAD!”

Slashing, Shēdo chopped the troll’s hand off at the wrist, then somersaulted away to avoid his retaliation. Conifer was running around at a distance, still blowing raspberries, his orange tongue flapping in the breeze. Lifting his tail, Conifer waggled his backside at the troll, but his puerile prank went unnoticed.

“If your brains were a candy, they’d be Feces Pieces! It’s a monkey favourite!”

Breaking into a run, Shēdo retreated, getting some space between herself and the troll. With nothing but one forepaw and her hind legs, she shimmied up a tree, her claws digging in, Limey was still held in her secure grip in her free paw. About twenty feet or so up, about the same height as the troll’s head, she launched herself in an incredibly risky attack upon the titanic troll.

She gripped Limey with both paws and held him overhead while she soared through the air shouting, “Me be Shēdo One-Fang, me kill you!”

The troll raised one handless arm to defend itself, and Shēdo chopped right through his elbow. Screaming in pain, the troll slapped Shēdo mid-air, batting her away like a bug, and sent her flying. Several yards later, she slammed into a tree, hard, the force of the impact caused it to drop several pinecones. The diamond dog bounced and then fell to the ground, with Limey falling from her grip.

Barking with pain, Shēdo tried to get up, but stumbled. Limey reappeared in her paw—when she gripped him, squeezing him tight, she felt her strength returning, and some of her pain subsided, but not much. There was no time to think about it though, and she rolled out of the way mere seconds before the troll kicked her.

“Sword up, Shēdo!” Limey commanded, and Shēdo raised her blade high.

Obeying Limey gave her a chance to fend off the trolls second attack, a clenched fist that came smashing down to pound her. The troll’s fist was as big as she was, and his fingers were as big as her neck. Snarling, her one fang bared, she chopped into the troll’s knuckles, severing several fingers, and causing the troll to jerk his hand back.

“Keep your fat, disgusting mitts off of my bitch!”

The troll, missing an arm and a few fingers, stood in one place while Shēdo retreated a bit, and the two of them studied one another with wary stares. It was dangerous for a predator to underestimate their prey, and Shēdo was no easy meal, no juicy, delicious lunch of pony-flesh, which the troll prefered.

With all that taken into consideration, the troll was regenerating, healing right before Shēdo’s eyes, and that was a distinct advantage that Shēdo didn’t have. She was bleeding, she was winded, and she was hungry. Deciding that the diamond dog was no longer a worthy threat, the troll whirled around, lightning fast, and went after the zebra instead, hoping for a quick bite to eat, a little dine and dash.

“Dirty pool!” Limey cried while Shēdo took swift action.

Screaming like a filly, Conifer’s bravery failed him, and he took off running, squealing, shrieking in terror. The troll, twenty feet tall, had much longer legs, and he was faster than the stubby legged zebra colt. His severed arm was already regrowing from his elbow, and he slashed at Conifer with a hand that was missing a few gnarly, rooty fingers.

Lunging, Shēdo hurled herself forwards with Limey held behind her, and she brought him forwards in a mighty sideways chop. The blade bit deep into the troll’s knee, and then with a slashing jerk, the limb was severed, causing the troll to topple over. The clawed hand slashed out and raked Shēdo over her girth, opening up three wide gashes in her dark grey fur.

Yelping in pain, Shēdo did her best to ignore it and she once more brought Limey to bear. Leaping up onto the troll’s chest, she sliced away the toilet from its head, reversed her stroke, and then with a swift, unerring strike, she severed the troll’s head, cleaving through its gnarled neck. Right away, the body withered, shrivelling, shrinking, and Shēdo almost fell over. Roots began growing out of the troll’s head, and these roots burrowed into the ground, trying to pull the troll’s head down like some horrifying seed.

Reaching out with her diggy-diggy claws, she grabbed the troll's head, it was huge, and she rammed Limey right through it a few times to slow down the growth. She hacked away tentacles, she stabbed out its eyes, and lopped off its lower jaw. While the troll’s head tried to recover, Shēdo pulled off her tattered rucksack, opened it, and pulled out a piece of flint.

Kicking some pine needles into a pile, Shēdo grabbed bits of the troll’s body, threw them onto the pine needles, and then using Limey’s blade, she tried striking a flame with her flint. It took her several attempts, her paws were shaking something awful, and Limey kept giggling with each strike. Her persistence was rewarded though, and pieces of troll ignited with a smoky, greasy green flame that flickered a sick shade of purple. The fire, hungry, devoured the available fuel and grew into a tiny raging inferno.

The troll’s head, which had recovered a bit, new eyes were starting to form, tried to escape once more by burrowing root-like tentacles into the ground, but Shēdo wasn’t having it. With a snarl, she rolled the head onto the fire, and with a whoosh, the troll’s head ignited. Shēdo stepped away and with Limey gripped in her paw, she watched her indomitable foe burn to death.

“You no touch my zebra,” Shēdo said as ribbons of scarlet dribbled down her girth and belly. “You touch my zebra, you die. You threaten my zebra, you die. You look at my zebra funny, you die.” While she laid out the rules, the carnivorous megaflora continued to burn and the troll’s head shriveled in the fire.

Cautious, Conifer approached the flames, and he looked at Shēdo with worry in his eyes. A few yards away was the toilet that had started this whole mess. With the magic gone, it was no longer clean or white, and it was already starting to crumble. Soon, like the troll, it would be gone, and this region would be considerably safer.

Throwing back her head, Shēdo bayed in triumph.

Laying on a large flat rock, Shēdo warmed herself in the sun. She wasn’t feeling so well and was thankful for the chance to rest. When the troll’s head had burned down to a cinder, she had smothered the fire with dirt—she didn’t want to be responsible for burning down the forest—and then she had crawled away to find a place to recover.

Nearby, Conifer was splashing around in a narrow, but deep stream, no doubt trying to get clean. She knew that she was responsible for keeping him clean, brushing him, and keeping him neat. When she recovered a bit, she would tend to that, but right now, it was difficult to breathe or do much else. There was also the matter that she was hungry.

If she couldn’t find food soon, she could always get full on dirt.

There was a commotion in the stream, Shēdo heard water splashing, Conifer was making wordless shouts, and something thumped with a wet sounding smack. It took effort to lift her head, but when she did, she saw Conifer fighting to lift a large fish out of the water and onto the rocky shore. His teeth were clamped on the fish’s middle, and the fish was slapping the zebra colt’s face with its tail.

The little zebra colt was tougher than Shēdo expected. He was small, yes, he was slight, yes, but he had guts. The fish continued to slap the zebra silly, but Conifer persisted and dragged the fish ashore while Shēdo’s mouth watered. The fish, perhaps sensing its doom, flapped its tail and gave Conifer a hearty slap right to the eye, and with a cry, the zebra colt dropped his prize.

But Conifer persisted. Kicking with his front hooves, he kept the fish from flopping back into the water, even standing on it at one point, and while baring his teeth, Conifer brought his small hoof down upon the fish’s knobby, bulbous skull. Her ears perking, Shēdo watched with interest, though it was difficult to hold her head up.

It was a struggle to sit up, and the gashes across her girth tore open a bit, causing fresh blood to dribble. She was weak, woozy, but she needed food. While Shēdo wobbled in place, steadying herself with her front paws pressed against the stone, she realised that not only had she saved Conifer, but right now, Conifer was trying to save her.

The diamond dog pup wasn’t sure what to think of it.

The fire, more coals than anything, crackled and popped. The fish, a headbanger trout, was skewered on a length of green wood, it smelled good and Shēdo wasn’t sure how long her patience might hold out. The fish’s knobby, misshapen skull was designed to crack open crawfish and freshwater clams.

“That was really amazing,” Conifer said to his companion as he looked into the fire. “I’m sorry for doubting you about your sword.”

Shrugging, Shēdo wasn’t worried about it. Limey was Limey, and right now the sword was quiet once more. Holding a stick, she poked the fire and tried to ignore the pain in her girth, which was considerable. She knew that she was going to be sore for a while, but she was alive, and Conifer was alive, and so being in pain didn’t matter.

“You could have done anything… you could have abandoned me and left me to be eaten while you reached some place of safety.” Conifer, lifting his head, looked into Shēdo’s eyes. “Why did you save me?”

“You my zebra,” Shēdo replied, feeling uncomfortable even saying the words. “Shēdo keep word, keep little zebra safe.” Her stomach growled and she grimaced, uncomfortable. “Shēdo sort of had friends… Kabuki and Long Ears. But those two young. Much smaller than me. Shēdo is… twice as old? Shēdo older than Kabuki and Long Ears. Little pups. Shēdo misses them, and not want to be alone.”

“I can be your friend,” Conifer offered.

“You be friend?” Shēdo’s jowls quivered and a ribbon of drool began its slow descent down one side of her hanging, flappy lips.

“That’s one of my conditions that I need to sort out with you as my owner.” Conifer smiled, blinked, and did his level best to ignore the ribbon of slobber hanging down. “I’d really prefer it if you were my friend as well. I want to know that I can trust you, and I think I can. Chromium said you were honourable, just, and true.”

“Shēdo try real hard.” The pup rubbed her stomach, sniffed, and decided that her fish was done. She pulled the stick from its makeshift mount over the fire and set it down upon a large flat stone fished out of the river that would serve as a good plate.

“I hope it’s good, I still can’t get the taste of fish out of my mouth! Blech!”

Author's Note

:trollestia: - And this is how you deal with trolls!

Scare a bitch to death

And so it came to pass, Shēdo and Conifer set out on an adventure, along with an all-powerful talking sword, which just so happened to double as a stick to carry Shēdo’s bindle. What? You don’t know what a bindle is? A bindle is the little sack that hobos tie to the end of a stick and then carry over their shoulder. Shēdo took the tattered remains of her knapsack and tied them to the hilt of her magnificent, troll-slaying sword.

Alas, there wasn’t much left of her knapsack, it was well and truly tattered. There wasn’t much in the way of supplies either, and the nights were growing colder, and colder, and going by experience, soon there will be much complaining. Shēdo is growing her fur back though, and she is a shaggy, hairy beast. Conifer on the other paw… zebras and cold don’t mix.

So, what bothers a diamond dog hobo and a transient zebra as they waltz through the woods? Not much. Other than the very public toilet troll, not much in the wilderness posed a threat. Oh, Shēdo is friendly, really, she is, she smiles her sweet smile, shows off her adorable little one fang, and waves her diggy-diggy claws at everything she meets.

For some reason, not much sticks around for conversation. Dog breath is to blame, of this there can be no doubt, because who wouldn’t want to talk to a friendly, tail wagging diamond dog? The way certain monsters just go off willy-nilly and screaming bloody murder, that’s just rude.

Ah, such is the wilds of Equestria. ‘Tis a very silly place…

Rusty Rail loomed in the distance, a tiny, but growing city in a prime location. About two to three day’s walk beyond Rusty Rail was Dodge City Junction—not a nice place by any standard—and to the south was the Hayseed Swamps. Far to the north was the Two Sisters mountains, and being in the middle of these locations made Rusty Rail a natural stopping point for many a traveller.

Still a ways away, a lone pony trotted out of town to greet them, and the pony appeared to be wearing a broad-brimmed hat. Shēdo put one paw over her eyes, squinted, and had a better look. Nearby, Conifer, who was dusty but still presentable, also peered ahead to see what he could see. Vultures circled overhead and the dust born on the wind was bitter.

When the pony was closer, Shēdo heard a voice cry out: “How-dee! My name is Royal Anne Cherry, and I’d like to welcome you to Rusty Rail! Welcome!”

“Hi!” Being the gregarious one, Conifer stepped forwards to meet the pale pink mare that approached. “My name is Conifer, and my companion is called Shēdo One-Fang. She’s fluffy!”

The mare, a few yards away, came to a halt and studied Shēdo. After a short time, the mare nodded, and her smile remained welcoming. “You seem nice enough. If’n you don’t mind me sayin’, I’d avoid Dodge City Junction if’n I was y’all. They don’t like zebras”—her eyes went from Shēdo to Conifer, then back again—“and the sheriff locks up diamond dogs on sight with trumped up charges, like disturbing the peace.”

“Thanks.” Conifer, now looking a little disturbed, turned to look at his companion, his guardian, and his keeper.

“Rusty Rail is trying to make a name for ourselves as a friendlier, nicer alternative to Dodge City Junction. We don’t have as many fancy shops, or eateries, we don’t even have a schoolhouse yet, but we is friendly, and that’s saying something. We do have a hotel though for weary travelers, a general store that a has shopkeep that’ll sell to anypony at a fair price, and we don’t charge for a drink of water.” Royal Anne’s grin widened and her ears rotated forwards in a sign of kind affection.

“Shēdo, can we stop in town?” Conifer asked. “I have a little money, and we could use supplies. Plus, it would be nice to meet friendly ponies and talk to them.”

Scratching her chin, Shēdo considered everything that had been said and wondered if they would be truly welcomed. Royal Anne seemed kind enough, nice enough, and inviting enough. After a bit of thinking, Shēdo nodded. “We can stay.”

“Yay!” Conifer began pronking about in the dust and clicking his heels together, acting coltish, one might even say he was acting his age.

“Follow me,” Royal Anne said in her most inviting voice. “I own the hotel, and I think I can wrangle up a discount, seeing as how cute the zebra is and all. And if’n ya ain’t got much money at all, I’ll let ya stay if you have dinner with me. I like having kind guests, and not the mean drunks that come a-wandering out of Dodge.”

Shēdo, not used to such kindness, didn’t know how to respond, but she followed the mare back to town.

The town, such as it was, was a place for locomotives to stop so they could get water and coal, if necessary. From these humble origins, these basic beginnings, a town had sprung up. There was a post office here, which doubled as the train station, a hotel, a shop, and a smattering of small, modest houses.

The ponies were nice enough, almost all of them waved, and not a one of them seemed too upset about a diamond dog or a zebra in their town. A few stared, but Shēdo stared right back, as this was her first real exposure to a town full of ponies. Conifer continued to be a chatterbox, yakking away at Royal Anne Cherry, and Shēdo had long ago lost track of the conversation, which seemed to be about irrigation farm practices.

Perhaps the most interesting thing in town was the enormous running wheel that powered the town’s pump, drawing life giving water to the surface. Two ponies were running on the wheel, which moved a massive mechanical arm up and down, up and down, up and down. Shēdo’s head followed the movement and for a short time, she was almost hypnotised. Of course, Shēdo didn’t know that it was a water pump, only that it was some great, wonderful machine.

The rails running through town held no rust, in spite of the name.

The hotel room was tiny, but Shēdo didn’t know that, and neither did Conifer. It was narrow, a little long, and had a square bed at one end, by the thin window. The walls were bare planks, stained with a pleasant brown finish that revealed the warmth of the wood, and there was nothing else to say about the room. Royal Anne Cherry moved to stand near the bed, and she looked out the window for a short time, before turning to Shēdo and Conifer.

“Both of you can stay for free, if you like,” she said, smiling. “Conifer is a foal, and you…” The mare gave Shēdo a kind, gracious smile. “You’re… a pup? I hope I’m not being offensive.”

“Yes.” Shēdo’s voice was a little gruff with emotion. “Pup.”

“Thank you, Royal Anne,” Conifer said.

“Oh, don’t mention it. I’m happy with you staying.” Royal Anne sighed—a weary sound—but her smile remained as bright and beaming as ever. “Feel free to look around the town. I’ll ring the bell for dinner, a couple of the townsponies eat here because they don’t have kitchens. Enjoy your stay.”

And with that, Royal Anne exited the room, leaving Shēdo and Conifer to check the place out.

For the first time ever, Shēdo One-Fang entered a shop. She came in just behind Conifer, and then froze in the doorway, amazed at the material wealth on display in the general store. Shovels, picks, axes, cloth, cups, pots, plates, pans, there was everything. The proprietor of the store seemed unconcerned that there was a hulking brute of a diamond dog standing in his doorway.

“Heyas, my name is Bog Belcher. My prices are fair and the laughter is free.” The unicorn behind the counter waggled his eyebrows up and down, causing Conifer to laugh, then gave Shēdo a nod. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had a diamond dog in my shop before. Congratulations on being the first, Missy.”

Something about the charming unicorn made Shēdo’s cheeks feel warm, her tail wagged, and before she even realised it was happening, she smiled, which surprised her. Her tail thumped up against the wooden doorframe, but she didn’t notice, she was far too distracted by the nice unicorn behind the counter.

“Me Shēdo, that Conifer.”

Conifer was already looking around, peering at the many items on the shelves. The zebra was careful, cautious, and considerate—he didn’t bump into anything or knock stuff over. He stopped when he got to the food section, and he began looking at things like oats. Shēdo, recovering herself, moved away from the door and was mindful of her tail. So much stuff… the ponies lived with so much wealth, so many things, and she now had some inkling of understanding why her kind just took stuff.

It didn’t make it right, of course, but she understood the temptation.

“Missy, you need a new bag,” Bog said to Shēdo with sincere worry in his voice. “That sack of yours is nothing but tatters. Stuff’ll fall out of that, and stuff kept in a bag is important. That’s why you put it in a bag.”

Feeling awkward, Shēdo did not know how to tell the nice pony that she didn’t have any coins. She didn’t have much of anything, really. She had some flint, a few medicinal roots, and a few rocks that she thought were pretty, but she knew them to be worthless. Looking at the nice pony, she hoped he would waggle his eyebrows again, because that was funny.

Not knowing how to respond, Shēdo’s eyes fell upon a brightly coloured box sitting on a shelf. It was metal, painted in bold, beautiful colours, and had a hinged lid on top. It was a curious thing, and it had a little handle sticking out of the side. Ponies made peculiar things, strange things, things that baffled her. Sniffing, she smelled everything in the store, but also the box, the scent of metal and paint.

“Turn the handle, Miss,” Bog said, offering a helpful suggestion.

Clutching Limey in one paw, Shēdo turned the crank with the other, and music came from the box. She could feel the movements of the mechanical parts inside of the box while she turned the handle, which had a round knob to help little hooves get a grip. The plinky tune was jaunty, playful, and Shēdo didn’t know it. Conifer began watching, his eyes wide with curiousity.

All of a sudden, without warning, something shot up out of the box, startling Shēdo.

“BARK! BARK! WOOF! BAR-RAR-RAR-ROO!”

At the first sign of danger, Conifer ducked behind a barrel and took cover, being a smart little zebra. Shēdo’s heart was pounding in her ribcage, and behind the counter, Bog Belcher howled with laughter while banging his hoof on the counter. Breathing heavy, Shēdo got a better look at what had popped up out of the box and saw that it was a tiny stuffed donkey head. It had a yarn mane and button eyes, with a stitched on smile. It was a jack in the box.

Realising that everything was going to be okay, Conifer came out from behind the barrel and allowed a nervous laugh to slip out. Bog appeared as though he was going to fall over at any moment—he was still banging on the counter, too—and he pushed the stuffed donkey back into the box with his magic.

Shēdo laughed, discovering that being scared like that was fun, but she didn’t crank the handle again. Her heart was still pounding, her blood was singing, and her hackles were all standing on end. Ponies made toys that scared their own young, this was a toy, she understood that now, and for whatever reason, ponies thought it was funny to cause a good scare.

“Do it again, Shēdo… I would very much like to see it again. Please?” Conifer turned a pleading stare upon his companion and made a hopeful whine.

Looking at the store clerk, Shēdo saw him nod, and she took that as permission. Reaching out with one paw, she grabbed the crank and gave it turn. The box made music again, and she turned the crank, waiting, expecting, knowing what was going to happen. Even though she knew what would happen, she wasn’t expecting—

“BARK! WOOF! BARK BARK! GRRRAWR!” Shēdo shook her jowls for ferocious effect, but it was all in fun.

It had somehow scared her again! Even with the knowledge it would pop out, it had somehow scared her again, and now her heart was thudding in her ribs even harder. What marvellous magic was this? This was miraculous.

In an odd twist, four different laughs could be heard inside the general store.

Author's Note

This might need a few edits. Those will be posted tomorrow, when my editor has returned to the waking world. :coolphoto:

Can you dig it, bitch?

“Shēdo no understand what just happened.” Standing in the street, Shēdo admired her new bag and thought about all of their new supplies. She felt suspicious about what had just taken place, and she felt guilty for feeling suspicious. She wanted to believe that there were good creatures in the world, even after everything that had happened.

“What don’t you understand?” Conifer asked as he rubbed up against Shēdo to enjoy her fluffiness.

“Everything,” Shēdo replied. With a grunt, she gestured at the general store.

“Well,” Conifer began, drawing the word out and making it long. “He did say that he wants Rusty Rail to be the next Ponyville, whatever that means. They have to start somewhere, and that means building a reputation. Being nice is an advantage for them, because we’ll go out into the world and tell others about how nice the ponies of Rusty Rail are.”

“So he gives away stuff?”

“It’s called altruism.”

Hearing the strange word that Shēdo had never heard before, she barked. A nearby pony stood staring, but did so in a polite way. Reaching up, she began scratching at the back of her skull, using the calloused pads of her paw, and not her diggy-diggy claws. Diggy-diggy claws could become scalpy-scalpy claws if she wasn’t careful.

“Doing good for the sake of doing good,” Conifer continued, his whole face scrunching from concentration as he tried to think of a way to explain this to his companion. “Although in this instance he is hoping for a return from his investment in kindness, he is still doing good for the sake of doing good. Dodge City Junction is apparently a bad, bad place, and Rusty Rail is trying to be the exact opposite.”

“So… like Shēdo trying to be a good dog for the sake of being a good dog, because so many dogs are bad?” Shēdo reached down and her paw came to rest on Conifer’s back. “Shēdo do good to make up for the bad that her kind has done.”

“Yeah… that sort of works.” Conifer wiggled around a bit, trying to scratch his back beneath Shēdo’s calloused paws. “But altruism is doing something good, doing the right thing even though you might not get anything in return.”

“Samurai.” Shēdo bowed her head. “Stories of how things were. Do good for the sake of honour. Do right for the sake of one’s soul. Exercise builds the muscle, but only good deeds make the soul stronger, Minori say.”

“That sounds incredibly wise.” Conifer swayed back and forth, trying to get an itchy spot scratched. “Altruism as a form of soul calisthenics.” When Shēdo’s paw began rubbing his back, the zebra colt’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and his tongue hung out, sensation robbing him of all intellect.

“Shēdo do altruism,” she announced as she gave her zebra companion an absentminded scratch. With her other paw, she gestured at the tiny town all around her. “If Shēdo do good and keep ponies safe, then ponies safe to do good and good is done. If little ponies are in danger, they get scared, they stay in houses and maybe not do as much good. Right?”

Conifer did not reply, but stood there, looking stupid while getting his back scratched.

It could not be contested that some earth ponies were natural diggers, but they had hooves, and not diggy-diggy claws. Shēdo, a diamond dog, had diggy-diggy claws, diggy-diggy claws that were imbued with strong magic meant to move earth. She could carve through granite with one swipe, and diggy-diggy claws were one of the few things that could pierce diamond dog bones with ease.

Shēdo watched, trying to be polite, she hadn’t been invited to come and dig in the unfinished cellar, but she wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. Her tail wagged from side to side while she watched the two earth ponies chip away at the bedrock with their hooves. In minutes, she could reduce the bedrock to gravel.

Overcome, Shēdo gave into her natural inclination. She didn’t have to dig; nodoggy was making her dig, but she wanted to dig, she needed to dig to satisfy the itch. She lept down into the cellar, ignoring the ladder, and her five-foot-tall bulk crashed to the unfinished floor like a dropped stone. One of the earth ponies let out a startled cry and both of them got out of the way of the charging diamond dog who stood with claws extended.

Diggin’.

There was no feeling greater than diggin’ for pleasure. Shēdo tore into the bedrock, sinking in her diggy-diggy claws, and shredding the stone as though it was soft cheese. In mere moments she had a pile of gravel at her hind-paws and she had carved away quite a bit of stone. The earth ponies, realising that Shēdo posed no threat, now watched with wide-eyed wonder as a real digger took over and did in mere moments what took them hours.

Shēdo’s powerful forearms were as big around as their necks and her front paws were as big as their heads. Though she did not know it, she was a powerful creature, even as a pup. She might have been small by diamond dog standards, but she was still a diamond dog, and as such, she was a hulking menace made of muscle, sinew, and fur. Shēdo and her species could only be described as the ogres of canine-kind.

Dust and gravel flew as Shēdo carved away the stone. Her claws grew warm and tingled, the magic in them was strong, and now that they were properly warmed up, they became even sharper, if that could be believed. Above her, Conifer looked down at his companion, curious, studying her, watching her every move.

Perhaps the most amazing thing was the sound. It defied description, the sound of stone being ripped and shredded at such an amazing pace was a terrific noise indeed. Shēdo’s hind paws were now almost buried in gravel, and she had carved away several square yards of stone in a short time, digging away with frantic, canine glee, her tongue lolling out from the side of her muzzle.

The cellar was done, for the most part, a big square empty space that went down about twelve feet into the ground. It was full of gravel, but that could be hauled out later and then used wherever it was needed. Days, maybe weeks worth of work had been done in mere hours, thanks to Shēdo’s efforts.

As for the happy little bitch herself, she was sitting near the edge of the cellar, making an awkward attempt to lap some lemonade out of a glass. Her diggy-diggy claws were still smoking—the smoke smelled like hot earth—and she looked happy all covered in dust. Several ponies had come out of their houses to rubberneck and Conifer spoke to them, glad to have somepony to chat up.

And this is the part where it gets interesting, you see. This is the part where I become a little envious of Shēdo, though it pains me to admit it. She’s a diamond dog; a big, scary, brutish creature with a well-known reputation for eating delicious bite-sized ponies. Equines of all tribes have all manner of frightful, keep-you-awake-at-night stories about diamond dogs capturing silly little ponies foolish enough to leave the safety of the herd and then eating them, or something just as horrific, like grinding their cute little bones to make some adorable little loaves of bread.

It just doesn’t seem fair. Shēdo just gains acceptance with no real effort on her part, but I… a draconequus, there was never any acceptance for me. No trust. No warmth. No friendship. Why is it that I was made to be a pariah, but Shēdo can dig a hole and find acceptance? I was helpful! I narrated the blue brat’s potty training so she would stop widdling everywhere! Nopony likes stepping in puddles! It’s just not fair, I tell you, not fair at all. Ponies are fickle creatures and I cannot help but wonder, when will they turn on her, and how bloody will it be when the inevitable happens?

Dinner was pinto beans, plenty of them, served over a brick of cornbread. A number of ponies gathered in the common room of the hotel and they ate as ponies tended to do; loud, noisy, with a lot of gusto. Hot chilis had been stewed with the beans, along with some savoury vegetables.

Royal Anne Cherry sat with her new guests, watching them eat, and smiling a kind smile. Her mane was now pulled back into a tight, neat bun. She had washed before dinner, to get the dust off, and now she was fresh-faced. It made her look younger somehow, and her eyes appeared more vibrant.

“You know, y’all could stay,” Royal Anne said to the pup and the zebra colt. “We’d be right glad to have ya. If’n you stayed, we’d help you build a house and everything. I’m certain that some paid work would come for you in time, but we’d be happy to carry you along until it did.”

“I was hoping to see the world a bit more,” Conifer said in between bites of food.

Hearing the colt’s words, Royal Anne’s eyes appeared a little sad. “The world, it ain’t a kind place. You could stay here with me… I’ll be happy to take you in and look after ya. Both of you seem like good, decent folk. And both y’all are so young.”

Wiping her muzzle with the back of her forearm, Shēdo swallowed a mouthful of beans and looked at the mare across the table. “We can’t stay. Shēdo sorry, but Shēdo has work to do.”

“What work is that?” Royal Anne asked.

“The Black Hound spared I. Now, Shēdo must hunt down other diamond dogs that do bad. Must keep favour of Black Hound. With own eyes, Shēdo has seen the destruction that Black Hound can do. Shēdo has seen his anger, his wrath, and Shēdo want no part of his fury.”

Now, Royal Anne looked troubled, and the edges of her mouth sagged.

“Now, Shēdo get revenge.” The diamond dog hung her head a bit and her ears hung limp. “Shēdo must get revenge, for Shēdo has seen proof that Black Hound exists and now Shēdo do His will. Shēdo not want head lopped off for being a bad, lazy dog.”

“But revenge is a terrible business,” Royal Anne said to the diamond dog pup. Both of her front hooves rested upon the edge of the table and she gave her head a sad shake. “What sort of life will ya have? Why would you do this to yourself? What do ya hope to accomplish? How will ya support yourself?”

Shrugging, Shēdo looked a little confused after the onslaught of words. “What choice do Shēdo have? Black Hound not forgiving. Bad dogs were punished and Shēdo spared.” Her jowls sagged and she added, “Good dogs died too, along with bad ones. Minori gone. Kabuki gone. Long Ears, gone. All of tribe taken by Black Hound. Rocks shattered. Home destroyed. Shēdo not even had howl yet to honour the dead. Just holding the sadness in, I guess.”

“This Black Hound seems terrible—”

“Black Hound is terrible, but easy to avoid.” Shēdo’s brows furrowed and her hound face became wizened. “Don’t be bad dog. Too many bad dogs now. Diamond dogs all turning bad. Need to be reminded of Black Hound. Need to be warned to turn away before Black Hound come for them.”

“Are you sure the Black Hound is real, sweetheart?” Royal Anne now looked very worried.

“Yes. Seen his passing. Saw my home. Saw his destruction. Shēdo was spared because I took head of Crag Daggle and I offer it to Black Hound to appease him. He has new head for sack of heads. I do right by giving him bad dog head. Maybe others die because they not fight to do right. I don’t know. They gone, I live. I do will of Black Hound and punish bad dogs.”

“Revenge is a bad business,” Royal Anne said once more. “Finish your food, and then I wish to show y’all something.”

Hunched over her food, Shēdo nodded.

Behind the hotel, in the shade of the building, there were a row of outhouses, a little garden patch, and three markers. It was Conifer that recognised them as headstones, and the zebra colt stared at them, unmoving. Royal Anne trembled as she too, stared at the stones, then she looked over at Shēdo and in a quavering voice, she poured her heart out.

“Two daughters, both lost to thieves and rustlers. They was taken and bad things was done. About a month later, we got the news from the sheriff of Dodge City Junction. My husband went off and crossed the alkali flats to take matters into his own hooves when the sheriff said that he couldn’t do nothing ‘bout our plight.” Royal Anne strode over to the headstones and stood beside them, looking distraught.

“My husband’s remains were found quite some time later by prospectors.” Royal Anne turned to look at Shēdo with wide, pleading eyes. “There ain’t no future in revenge. There is nothing to be had, nothing at all. Stay with me, both of y’all. You don’t have to go.”

Shaking her head, Shēdo’s ears flopped from side to side. “Shēdo sorry… but I have work to do.”

“But I could make you happy.” Royal Anne’s voice was pleading.

“The Black Hound will come if I don’t do his will. All will be lost. There will be much suffering. Shēdo sorry, but I can’t stay.”

Blinking away tears, Royal Anne looked into Shēdo’s eyes. “I wish you would reconsider…”

Author's Note

A somewhat more edited version might be uploaded later.

A bitch dares to rear her head

Under the cover of the darkest hour before dawn, Shēdo and Conifer fled the town of Rusty Rail. While it was a wonderful place, it was not a place they could stay. They headed west, at least as westward as possible, with the Froggy Bottom Bogg to their north and Dodge City Junction to their south. There was a narrow strip of prairie that existed here, that turned into marsh to the north and desert to the south. Cacti, some of them quite dangerous, were ever-present here.

A river meandered through the marsh and no doubt originated in the Froggy Bottom Bogg. At some point, the river might have been broad and wide, but the summer had been a hot, dry one and the river was now a shallow trickle. Other than the cacti, the prairie patch was an ideal place to walk, being flat and wide open.

Every now and again there was a warning sign, which Shēdo could not read, but Conifer could. There were old mines here, opal mines, and they left gaping holes in the ground, holes that the stupid and unwary might fall in if they weren’t paying attention. Most peculiar, Shēdo knew that these holes were there, even without having to see them, because her diggy-diggy claws offered a telegraph-tingle warning whenever she drew near. It took a stupid, stupid dog to fall down a hole, but Shēdo knew it was possible.

There were stupid, stupid dogs.

The day was much cooler than the companions thought it would be. The nights were growing colder with each passing day and summer was certainly at an end. Shēdo found the cooler temperatures agreeable, as there was a lot less panting. While walking, she kept an eye on a pack of lurking crackle jackals in the distance.

“Where is home for you?” Shēdo asked to break the monotony of walking westward.

“Zebrabwe, I guess,” Conifer replied. “Never been there, I don’t think. So I guess as far as homes go, one place is as good as any other.” With a few quick, light steps, the zebra trotted closer to Shēdo’s side, not liking the pack of predators in the distance. He was loaded down with gear, saddlebags, and such, but managed to keep a good pace for a colt his age.

The crackle jackals were not alone and Shēdo began to notice a pack of jackalopes, though she couldn’t tell if they were the vampiric variety. With a smooth transition, she went from walking on all fours to walking upright, as being taller gave her a better view. She adjusted Limey so he would be ready to draw, but being prepared did nothing to alleviate her tensions. Her sword was silent, and had been since leaving Rusty Rail. There seemed to be no pattern to Limey’s actions, no rhyme nor reason.

“Things are going to get exciting, aren’t they?” Conifer asked as he had himself a worried look around.

“Maybe.” Shēdo flexed her diggy-diggy claws and considered the very real possibility of violence. She only had stories to go by with very little paws on experience in dealing with the dangers. Standing upright though seemed to help, as the creatures pacing them retreated a bit, though Shēdo didn’t know why.

“Well, I hope things don’t get too exciting,” Conifer remarked. “Beware of very public toilets.”

The prairie darkened and one by one, the stars began to twinkle overhead, a tiny, distant speck of light lodged in the purple-blue shroud that was the night sky. Not far away from a yawning hole that was the entrance to an old opal mine, a campfire burned, an island of light and warmth that existed to push the darkness away.

With the firelight and the remaining suggestion of daylight that filtered through the deepening, creepening dusk, Conifer’s stripes caused his outline to appear distorted, almost unreal, and it gave him an almost spectral quality—more ghost than zebra. Shēdo too, became amorphous in the fading light, her various greys breaking up her outline—causing her to appear more as a looming shadow than a creature of flesh and blood. Solid blacks were terrible camouflage in the night—both Shēdo and Conifer had ideal patterns for hiding in the shadows.

“Why’d we have to leave in such a hurry, Shēdo?” The firelight reflected in Conifer’s eyes, the flickering outline of flames ghosted in his irises. “Those ponies were nice. The least we could have done is stayed a while. We could have done more to help them.”

Poking the fire with a long stick, Shēdo grunted.

The zebra’s mane was tugged on by a teasing, playful wind and the fire geysered sparks up into the royal purple dusk. In the distance, coyotes howled, and Conifer scooted a little closer to the fire, unconcerned by the shower of sparks that were coaxed free by the burgeoning breeze. If Shēdo was concerned by the distant howls, she showed no sign. Eyes narrowed, the colt glanced to and fro, wary of the dangers of being out in the open like this.

“The longer we stayed, the harder it would have been to leave.” Shēdo’s ears tried to perk, but they were a bit too floppy. They lifted just enough to get tugged on by the breeze, and she gave an absentminded but careful scratch to the healing scabs on her girth. “A happy dog grows lazy and gathers moss.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you sound a little smarter.” Conifer blinked at his companion, and curiousity was evident upon his face. “I am starting to suspect that you sound the way you do sometimes because you just don’t put much effort into thinking about what you say. Or maybe you were punished if you sounded too smart. I don’t know.”

“Shēdo feeling thoughtful. Thinking mood. Sad mood. Might be a howl coming. Feel sad sickness coming on and I fear it. Not want it. Not want to feel pain for those lost. When grief come, it devour I, and eat all meat from bones. I want to feel angry, not sad. Want to avenge what was done to I and others, not weep and howl. Sad sickness saps strength.”

“Are you worried that feeling sad might soften your feelings on your need to punish bad dogs?” Conifer shivered a bit—the growing breeze had fangs of ice—and his eyes watered from the smoke rising from the fire. For a brief moment, when he was squinting in the stinging smoke, the zebra colt appeared wizened, and he became the oft-stereotyped image of a wise, mystical member of his species. For a brief second, he might have been ten years old… or a hundred.

“Maybe?” Shēdo shrugged, her shoulders rising and falling. “Being angry hides the hurt that comes with the need to punish, a tiny hurt lost by bigger hurt. But when sad, the need to punish feel heavy on heart. Not like the sad sickness that will come, fear it, I do. Too much wickedness that must be answered for.”

“Shēdo, does it have to be you?” Conifer asked.

“If not I, then who? Who punish bad dogs? Why must world suffer bad dogs?” Shēdo raised her paw, flexed her diggy-diggy claws, and then rubbed her jowls with her calloused pads. “I bitch, beat down, smashed, soon be used for breeding. I be slave. Shēdo be slave and forced to make more bad dogs. I have puppies someday soon, and little bitches be beaten down, little dogs lifted up and made to hurt bitches. It never stop. The badness happened and then it never stop. Shēdo make it stop! I take revenge for bitches everywhere and bad dogs will bleed.”

The zebra colt tensed, appearing uncomfortable, and he watched his companion rub her jowls. His mouth opened, as if he was about to say something, but then it closed and he shook his head while making a sad expression.

“Bad dogs be lazy, take slaves, grows moss.” Shēdo’s voice was a pained growl now, and her eyes shimmered with moisture, reflecting the flames that lapped at the night that sought to engulf them. “Bad dogs take zebras, ponies, others, and make them slaves rather than do work themselves. Or beat bitch and make bitch work. Say bitch weak and smash them, but it be bitch that do all work, raise puppies, and somehow survive bad dogs.”

This time, when the zebra opened his mouth, words did come out. “I think this is your howl, Shēdo.”

“What?” Shēdo’s jowls sagged and her eyes went wide.

“This is your howl. You’re letting it all out, but in words, not howling. Maybe you’ll feel better after this.” Conifer gave his companion a gentle smile and shivered a bit as the prairie wind picked up a little more. Unable to bear the cold, the colt turned to search his gear and pull out his blanket.

“Don’t want to let it out. Want to stay angry. Need to be angry. Anger like fire for blacksmith. With this hot inside, I can forge self, change thinking, become something more than beat-down bitch.” Shēdo whimpered and her ears went limp against her skull. “Not be weak anymore. Not be weak ever again. Never allow weakness again. Never obey. Never submit. Never bend neck or show belly. Never be some dog’s bitch. Shēdo will kill dogs that keep bitches.”

Now wrapped in a blanket, Conifer looked pained by Shēdo’s words, and he sat in silence, staring through the flames at his hulking companion. The wind, growing in strength, was tugging at his blanket and rustling Shēdo’s fuzzy hide. Staring into each other’s eyes, something happened between the two companions, though neither could say what. The zebra colt’s expression became one of concern, while Shēdo’s visage took on the exquisite sadness only found on the faces of hounds.

Throwing back her head, she howled, a horrible, mournful sound, and Conifer shivered. In the distance, the coyotes answered, their own howls changing, now also sounding sorrowful. Again, Shēdo howled, and it was a chilling sound that made the blood run cold. Not knowing what else to do, Conifer, a student of life, did the only thing he could do to share in Shēdo’s grief.

He howled, joining his companion, and then, he and Shēdo howled together for a time.

Opening her eyes, Shēdo became aware of Conifer, who slept while curled up against her back. They were down in a mineshaft, sheltered from the cold, cruel wind, and wrapped up in blankets together. She was confused, disoriented from having strange dreams, and her first thought was that Limey had played pranks on her.

“Conifer,” she said, her voice full of gravel. “Wake up… I had strange dreams about a paper pony.”

“Paper pony?” Conifer stirred a little, but not too much, wanting to remain where it was warm.

“Shēdo saw paper pony with eyes made of ink. She had wings… horn too… Shēdo was in place made of paper and I was made from paper too. Remember crinkling and ink smell.”

“Sounds like a really weird dream.” Conifer yawned, smacked his lips, and was just about to doze off when Shēdo continued to talk once more.

“Paper pony was nice to me. She told me that old diamond dog gods have passed away because we forgot about them. She said a time of new gods was coming.” Shēdo waited for some kind of response from Conifer, and then after a few seconds, she asked, “What you think that mean?”

“I wouldn’t even begin to know,” Conifer replied while he squirmed, troubled by Shēdo’s words. “It’s just a dream though. I wouldn’t get too worried about it, Shēdo.” He yawned, whining as he did so, then added, “Can we go back to sleep?”

“She had no name. Just paper and ink. Shēdo can still smell ink. Nameless paper pony say she writing a new chapter for Shēdo, wants to help Shēdo make diamond dogs be good again.” Almost shivering from breathing in the cold air, Shēdo pulled tight her blanket and tried not to move, because heat kept leaking out from beneath the covers.

“It sounds like standard dream wish-fulfillment.” Conifer snorted, perhaps realising that there was no more sleep to be had. The colt groaned, wiggled a bit, moaned, and then went, “Brrr!” Ears perking, he asked, “Can we make a fire?”

“We get warm by walking,” Shēdo replied, and she chuckled a bit when her zebra companion groaned.

Author's Note

A key figure in the Weedverse as a whole has been formally introduced here. Will anybody even notice?

The bitch is black

The land had given way to crags. Here, the earth had swelled into something of a plateau, and then long ago, something caused vast ravines to cleave the ground. Now, there were high places and low places, creating interesting, but difficult to cross terrain, if one happened to be heading west, as all of the coulees went north and south. According to Conifer, it was as if something ginormous had raked the earth with its claws of unimaginable size.

While Shēdo had no trouble traversing the terrain, Conifer had nothing but problems. His short legs and quadrupedal stance forced him to clamber up and down steep ascents and descents. Having no claws, no means to grab anything, it was a real challenge to climb, and he had to depend on Shēdo to lift or lower him as the situation demanded. Shēdo also had the advantage of being a brute—when a rock or a tree got in the way and refused to be cooperative, Shēdo had the ways and means to smash it into oblivion, much to Conifer’s oft-induced alarm.

Despite Shēdo’s many assurances that she wasn’t very strong, Conifer remained in awe.

“Shēdo… I have a confession.” Limey sounded quite distressed—all of the joviality was missing from his voice—and his words were little more than a shamed whisper.

The sound of Limey’s voice gave Shēdo pause. Limey had been quiet, too quiet, and hearing him now was a surprise. She stood on a high ridge, which gave her a wonderful view of the land all around, and not too far away was the next ravine, which looked like it might be the deepest, steepest one so far.

“Shēdo… I lied to you. The Black Hound doesn’t exist.”

“I starting to think that.” Shēdo’s ears sagged and she let heave a resigned sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Limey continued, his voice sounding strained and a bit muffled. “If you wish to be rid of me, I understand. I will let you go. I’m not cursed either, but I am magical. It might be best for you if you tossed me into a river and forgot me. I’ve lied to you, and I keep lying to you, and even though I am a sword and not a draconequus, I am a deceitful creature. I’m sorry for how I am. It would be best if you were rid of me.”

“No.” Shēdo shook her head and her jowls jiggled with defiance.

“Well, I suppose you need me as a weapon. I understand. How very practical of you.”

“No, dumdum, Shēdo need you as her friend.” Flexing her claws, the diamond dog’s ears perked, listening for anything that might sound like danger.

“But I lied to you… I’m a terrible friend… you seem genuinely nice and your treatment of Conifer, your kindness to him, to others… it makes me feel guilty.” The talking sword shuddered in his tortoiseshell sheath. “If you keep me, I will only lead you down a bad path!”

“Or maybe Shēdo lead you down a good path?” Shēdo sniffed once, then reached out and patted Conifer’s head while the zebra stood panting, exhausted. For the first time, she noticed that the birds had gone silent and the wilderness lacked the sounds of animals doing whatever it was that animals did in the wilds. But, there was something out there, her ears told her so, and so did her nose. “Shēdo hear something, smell something.”

“It’s over there, down in that ravine. I think there’s trouble.” Limey’s voice lacked its usual enthusiasm for violence. “Shēdo, I am going to lead you to a bad end. It would be best if you got rid of me. I am an instrument of chaos and violence. I can’t change! I tried to change once… I did… I even had a friend and I betrayed her.”

“No. Shēdo keep friends.” Head tilting off to one side, Shēdo listened a bit more, and then began to growl. “Shēdo hear dogs, she does. Conifer, stay here. Stay safe. Hide. Stay quiet.”

Hunkering down, Shēdo listened to the dogs down below. At the bottom of the wide ravine, there was a narrow road that ran north-south, giving access to Equestria’s southern reaches, Dodge City Junction, and Appleloosa. To the north, a vast, almost unending bog was visible. Not more than three dogs were visible, though that seemed like a lot for three. The dogs had formed a crude but effective blockade of the road, using boulders and logs to prevent passage.

There was also a pony wearing a hat that was hitched to a full wagon. Shēdo found him interesting, as he was being brave, and defiant. While that was fine and good, it would not go well for him. Ears twitching, the diamond dog listened, and knew that other dogs were moving up to flank the earth pony. This was a classic trap, and these dogs were no dummies. In short order, the earth pony would be overwhelmed and taken. Even if he was strong, which he might be, a rock thrown at the back of his head hard enough would bring him down.

But not if Shēdo could help it.

“He’s the leader,” Limey said, whispering. “The big grey one that is missing a few claws on his paw that is holding the big spear.”

“Shēdo see him.”

“But he’s not the brains,” Limey continued. “Look, there, in the back, near the blockade. There’s a little squinty-eyed fellow. He’s not very big, but you can see the intelligence in his eyes. No doubt, he made the roadblock. Your choice, Shēdo. Hit the brain or the brawn first. Choose wisely.”

“What you do?” Shēdo asked, seeking the advice of the much wiser sword. While Limey’s character and honesty might be lacking a bit at the moment, Shēdo still trusted in his knowledge of battle. A sword knew the art of war in much the same way she knew the art of digging, and that could be trusted.

“Hmm.” Limey hummed a bit, but remained as quiet as a mouse fart. “I would go for the brain. The tower of muscle is going to give you some problems, but he’s probably dumb as a post.”

This seemed true. The towering diamond dog was one of the largest that Shēdo had ever seen. Height wise, he was more than twice her height standing up, and bulk wise, it was impossible to estimate. His shoulders were as wide as Shēdo was tall, and she was as tall as Limey was long. He was monstrous, and his forearms were bigger around than Shēdo’s girth. No doubt, he could rip up trees by the roots and hurl boulders, and all of the other horrible things that diamond dogs could do. He was a towering giant, a brute, the sort of diamond dog that was a real threat to peaceful existences everywhere.

“That pike has to be three yards long, Shēdo. He has more reach than you. Don’t try to go for him, but go for his weapon when you engage him, if you engage him. He’ll either bludgeon you, using it like a club, or he’ll skewer you. Don’t let him. If he swings that thing at you, you’ll be hard-pressed to recover. I have a lot of reach myself, but he clearly has the advantage. Be careful.”

Looking down, Shēdo felt the jitters coming on, and she wondered if this was worth it. If she failed, she would be captured and she would be become a bitch again, if she wasn’t killed outright in the battle. Conifer might get captured, and that would be awful. He would either be worked or eaten.

It was just one pony.

Yes, it was just one pony, and one pony mattered. One good and innocent life mattered. Muscles tensing, Shēdo prepared herself, and chose the course of ambush. There was no way she could win with honourable, straightforward combat, so she was going to have to fight dirty. She would move in from the other side of the barricade, take out the brainy dog, and then use the barricade itself as a makeshift fortress. She would have the high ground there, and she needed every advantage she could muster.

The ravine floor where the road was was darkened with shadows, and Shēdo slipped from one to another. She could hear the dogs talking to the pony, laughing, and taunting him. The pony, whomever he was, was brave. She could not see him at the moment, because the barricade was in the way, but he wasn’t running. Pausing behind the tall stump of a broken off tree, she drew in a deep breath in silence while the pony tried to patiently explain that attacking him would draw the ire of the Royal Pony Sisters.

Once she committed to this, there would be no turning back.

When she sprinted from the stump to the barricade, her paws made no sound at all, and she gripped Limey with both paws. Launching herself, she made a fantastic leap to the top of the barricade, which was higher than she was tall, drew out Limey with a smooth, fluid motion, and then hurled herself at the brains of the group, the little diamond dog hiding near the barricade.

Bringing the blade down with a powerful cleave that also carried all of her falling momentum, the edge struck the dog’s head just between his ears, and then just kept going, encountering no meaningful resistance. Limey sliced through skull, brain, vertebrae, jawbone, and then hit ribs, never slowing. Just as Limey was cleaving an exit through the groin both eyes popped out from the shockwave of the blow.

Both halves flopped to the dirt, cloven in twain.

“Arroo?” was the sound that a startled diamond dog made, and there were several of these cries that could be heard all at once.

“‘Sup, bitches?” Limey asked, somehow managing to be as disrespectful as possible.

Recovering, Shēdo swung her blade around and went for her next target, which stood a blade-length away. She lifted, then sliced, but the edge of her blade was not true as it struck the neck of her foe. Rather than cleave through clean, the blade struck at an angle and did more tearing of flesh than cutting. With the crunch of broken, snapped off bones, the head ripped free and crimson liquid spurted upwards like a gay, inviting fountain. The severed head flew in a parabolic arc, rolling through the air, and spraying blood from the torn neck-hole.

Another diamond dog several yards away caught the severed head of his packmate and began screaming. The violence became frenetic now, it was more about momentum, and Shēdo was picking up speed. Since she was fighting giants, diamond dogs that were considerably larger than herself, she adopted the Nebenhut position, the reaper’s stance.

Stepping over the decapitated body of the dog she had just killed, she continued her somewhat graceful dance, not once thinking of how she had just botched her last kill, and she moved with alarming speed towards the next dog with her sword at her side, leveled with her tail, maintaining the position she had been taught by Limey.

“Holy alicorn shit!” the pony in the hat said.

The big dog raised his pike and spoke, revealing that Limey had made a mistake. “I want her alive. Subdue her, but do not kill her.”

As the final word left the big dog’s mouth, Shēdo made a quick swipe at her target. Limey bit deep, striking just below the elbow, and left behind a deep, gushing gash. There was a yelp from the injured dog, and the remaining diamond dogs began to react to Shēdo’s assault. Recovering from her slashing attack, Shēdo made a quick stab, but failed to connect.

The momentum was slowing down. Howling with pain and rage, the diamond dog that Shēdo slashed raised his weapon, a pickaxe, and took a swipe at Shēdo. The big dog snarled—no doubt a reminder that he wanted the impudent bitch alive—and Shēdo took this opportunity to retreat back to the barricade, her makeshift fortress.

Standing atop a boulder, Shēdo raised her sword into the Ochs position. She wasn’t sure if this was the best pose for where she was standing and the battle she was fighting, but it would have to do. The big one was holding back, but at least three, yes, there had to be three dogs that came for her. Two dogs over to her left, and two more to her right, for three dogs total.

“Mister Barker will neuter you in Tartarus!” Limey said, taunting the dogs as they advanced.

Two dogs on her left, two dogs on her right, the big giant, and whatever dogs were still creeping up behind the pony and his wagon. Three dogs. Good odds. Shēdo figured she might be able to take them. Spears, swords, pickaxes, and an enormous maul. As scary as those weapons were, Limey was scarier, and he blazed a brilliant, nauseating witchfire green.

The stench of ink filled Shēdo’s nostrils, a strange, unexpected smell that threatened to overwhelm her. It had an odd chemical twang to it that made the nose burn and caused the eyes to water, but it also filled Shēdo with courage for some reason. She could only associate the scent with that of destiny, though this was a most peculiar connection to have made. Holding Limey over her head, she challenged her foes, and her mouth filled with words that she could not comprehend saying.

“THE BLACK HOUND COMES FOR YOUR HEADS! ALL OF YOU ARE BAD DOGS!”

Author's Note

Here we go!

A bitch can fly

The paw came close—too close—and the diamond dog reached for Shēdo, claws out. Limey was thrust forwards in a half-chop, half-cleave, and his edge slipped between two claws, past the paw-fingers, and passed with effortless ease into the soft fleshy webbing connecting the paw fingers to the paw. Limey sliced through flesh, through bone, through the paw, slipped through the hard bones of the wrist like butter, and then one paw-finger and one paw-thumb, now freed of the paw, fell down to the ground and flopped around.

The diamond dog howled while trying to retreat, he turned to run, but Shēdo wasn’t having that. With a short, quick stroke, the tip of Limey’s blade grazed the back of the dog’s skull, and opened it right up. Another was right on top of her and Shēdo didn’t get to finish off the fleeing dog. Raising her blade, she brought it up into a defensive position and she settled into a crouch atop the barricade. The dog that had been gashed just below the elbow fell over with a groan, succumbing to a loss of blood.

Spear held out as far as it could reach, the diamond dog now attacking Shēdo was aggressive, but cautious. She moved to block the spear, and so, she chopped off the dangerous end, but not before a long, deep, bloody scrape had been carved into her belly. The lesson would have a cost in pain, a measure of suffering, and Shēdo would learn to protect her stomach more, to let nothing ever get so close.

The diamond dog followed up his spear charge and was right on top of her now. Limey’s length was now a liability, but not one that couldn’t be overcome. Instead of trying to use her blade, Shēdo smashed the pommel of her sword down into the diamond dog’s face as he climbed up her barricade. There was a sickening crunch of bone as his muzzle shattered, one eye fell free from its socket, and when the impact was over, the diamond dog’s lower jaw hung open at an odd angle.

With a grunt, she kicked him away, and he went tumbling down the barricade. Blood oozed from the torn flesh of her stomach, and she had a painful stitch in her side. It was a struggle to remain standing upon the uneven surface of the crude fortifications. The dog with the cloven paw and the sliced open skull tumbled over face first and his wounds continued to hemorrhage, geysering a ridiculous amount of blood.

Still three dogs left.

The big dog was moving closer now, hefting his enormous spear, and two smaller dogs flanked him. One had a sword, the other had an enormous mallet. Shēdo knew that these three would come at her together, and she also knew that she was in some trouble. The gash on her stomach was bleeding more than she liked and any movement would be excruciating.

“Hey! Hey, you! Big dog! For being such a big dog, you have such a tiny loincloth!”

Limey’s cruel taunt made the big dog snarl with rage, but the big dog would not be goaded.

“Is that big spear of yours to compensate for something? I think it is!”

The big dog’s hackles were certainly up now.

“I bet I know why you like little bitches… I bet that baby dick of yours looks positively huge when held in a tiny little paw!”

“RARGH!” The big dog slobbered and barked with bellicose fury while he charged.

“Don’t go for the dick, Shēdo! It’ll be an impossibly small target!” Limey shouted while Shēdo raised him to counter the incoming attack. “What we need are some tweezers and a magnifying glass to do this job properly!”

The dog holding the enormous maul joined the big dog, but the other dog, what Shēdo considered the second dog, he turned tail in the other direction and ran, wanting no part of the hot dog roast going on. The big dog’s intelligence was gone now, and there was only berserk fury while he made a running charge with his spear.

When he lept, Shēdo lept as well. The big dog flew with surprising grace, even with his current state of berserker fury, and he brought his spear tip up, ready to impale. Shēdo did not leap at her foe, but away, going sideways, fleeing the spot where the big dog was sure to land. Both soared like birds, big, hairy, shaggy birds; the big dog was heavier, bulkier, and Shēdo was smaller, lighter. But both had jaw-dropping grace.

While still airborne, the big dog re-angled his spear, and with a thrust, he tried to skewer Shēdo while she flew away from him. It missed, but only just, and when Shēdo kicked out with her hind legs, she connected with the rough-hewn shaft, forcing it into a downward angle. The big dog landed where Shēdo had once stood on top of the barricade, in the middle, and his impact kicked up a cloud of dust. Shēdo meanwhile landed where the barricade met the ravine wall, and she wobbled while trying to recover her balance.

The dog with the maul stood down on the ravine floor, eyes wide, stupefied by what he had just witnessed. The pony with the hat, he too stood transfixed, frozen in place, and his pelt had spatters of fresh, bright red blood on it. Shēdo and the big dog eyed one another, each wary, but this did not last long as the big dog once more threw himself at Shēdo.

“It’s like some kinda messed up hoof-fu movie,” the pony wearing the hat said.

The big dog closed the distance in an eyeblink, but Shēdo wasn’t there. She ducked down and ran, running beneath the big dog while he was airborne. He stabbed down at her with his spear, but missed. The big dog landed, but did not stay. Turning about, his tail whipping around him, he reoriented himself towards Shēdo. The big spear twirled about in his paws with ease, moving far too fast for a weapon so big and so ungainly.

“Well, Shēdo, at least your virginity isn’t in any real danger—”

“RAAAAAAAWR!” the big dog rawred, and then he charged.

Huffing and puffing like a frustrated locomotive, the big dog sprinted across the top of the barricade, spear forward, charging toward Shēdo. She stood with sword held out front, in a crouch, ready to react. With surprising nimbleness, she sidestepped the tip of the spear and then chopped down with her blade. It was a move with great cost; she cleaved off the cruel, barbed tip of the spear, but while doing so, the big dog plowed into her with a terrific impact.

The shaft of the spear was whirled around, and it struck Shēdo in the base of her jaw. Her mouth snapped shut with a great clattering of her teeth, and starbursts exploded in her vision. For a moment, she couldn’t tell if she still had Limey in her grasp. There was nothing beneath her hind paws, and when she had somewhat regained her senses a fraction of a second later, she had the sensation of being airborne.

“Shēdo! Snap out of it, this is no time to be punch drunk!”

Hearing his voice, Shēdo did, in fact, snap out of it, but it was too late. She found herself airborne, flying, and the big dog was swinging his spear shaft like a club in her direction. Gritting her teeth, there was nothing she could do but take it like a bitch. An eyeblink later, the shaft connected with her left elbow and the spear shaft splintered on impact. The entirety of her left arm ignited with burning pain, and for a time, she was certain that she would pass out.

She struck the earth with enough force to make her teeth clatter together again. Landing flat on her back, she had the wind knocked out of her, but there was no time to catch her breath, as she had to move. Just as she rolled out of the way, the big dog landed right where she had impacted. Choking, her whole body screaming for oxygen, she somehow managed to get up on her hind paws and raise Limey.

The two mortal enemies squared off once more…

The big dog, pressing his advantage, charged. Shēdo played the part of the wounded gazelle, and cowered in place, which wasn’t much of an act. When the big spear shaft came sweeping in for another blow, she ducked, dropping down, sitting down in the dirt. She landed bottom first rather hard, but still managed to stab upwards with Limey while the big dog’s momentum carried him forwards.

The tip pierced the greasy loincloth, then beyond, and momentum kept the big dog going. Limey’s blade entered deep into the groin, then slid upwards into the dog’s abdomen, into his guts, and then, finally, into his girth, puncturing many vital organs. A surprised, startled look could be seen on the dog’s face, and glowing green witchfire could be seen inside of his open mouth.

He fell over, pulling Limey from Shēdo’s grasp.

The dog holding the maul took off running, wanting no part of the ferocious pup.

Bleeding, her jaw aching, and her left arm limp against her side, Shēdo stood up and began to shake the dust off. It was difficult to breathe, but breathe she did. She sucked in great, painful gulps of air while fiery agony bloomed in her left arm. Staggering a bit, she bent over, reached down, and with her right paw, she yanked Limey free of the big dog, her fallen foe.

When she stood up straight, she almost pitched over. The gash in her stomach was deeper than it looked; all of the bending and stretching she had done had no doubt made it worse. Now, post-battle, the pain of fighting would settle in, and Shēdo knew that she was in some real trouble, because the fight wasn’t over. Several dogs had run off, and they were dogs that had to be put down.

“Limey…”

“Shēdo?”

“Shēdo don’t feel good.”

“...” Limey’s lack of response was almost audible.

“Is Shēdo a good dog?”

“Yes,” Limey replied, without even a second’s hesitation. “Certainly a better dog than I am a friend.”

“I see two of everything… maybe three. Maybe definitely three.”

“I ain’t never seen anything like that,” the pony with the hat said as he came strolling over. “Are you okay, Miss? My name is Longhaul. Thank you for your—”

Shēdo toppled over face first into the dirt, and she knew no more.

When she awoke again, Shēdo found a worried zebra’s face staring down at her. Conifer looked older somehow, maybe because of all of the worry-wrinkles on his face. She blinked a few times, only to discover that even her eyelids ached. Her face didn’t feel like her own, her jowls were swollen and her jaw muscles felt all wrong. Her left arm felt like it had been set on fire and there was a dreadful, pulsating throb in her elbow. Even her wig-wag hurt, and she could not recall being hit on the tail.

“I’ve seen quite a lot in my travels, but nothing like that,” the hat-wearing stranger said. “Nopony is going to believe me when I tell them what I saw.”

Shēdo saw Conifer raise a hoof and then she heard him ask, “Hey, Shēdo! Shēdo! How many hooves am I holding up?”

After blinking a few times, she replied, “Three?”

“I think she’s okay,” Conifer announced.

Groaning, she pulled herself into a sitting position, and found that her brand new canteen was sitting beside her, along with Limey, who was sheathed. With her right paw, she picked up the canteen, fumbled with it, but was having some trouble getting it open. Even her teeth were sore and sensitive. She yelped once while pulling out the stopper, but then was rewarded with water, which she guzzled.

Gulping more air after drinking, she sat there, almost panting, and after a few moments she said, “Even Shēdo’s bitch parts hurt. Why my bitch-hole hurt so?”

“You got hit pretty hard, Miss. I’d say you flew for a good five yards or so.”

Setting her canteen down on the ground, Shēdo reached up with her right paw, rubbed her aching jaw, and let out a whimper. She only had a vague recollection of the spear shaft impacting her jaw, and all of her thoughts seemed… fuzzy. The memory of what had happened wasn’t all there, and it felt as though she was missing pieces of her mind.

“I think that if anypony else had been hit like that, their head would have come off.”

Glancing over at the pony she had rescued, Shēdo agreed, but said nothing in reply. Lifting up her canteen, she took another drink, and then just sat there with a vacant, glassy-eyed stare, focusing on nothing. Her work wasn’t finished, some of her prey had escaped, and there were bad dogs to punish. Once she recovered a bit, she would track them down to wherever it was they were hiding, and then…

Then there would be a reckoning…

Author's Note

Now, the story will take on some different perspectives... hang on!

The bitch is stitched

Invincible, our heroine marched ever-onwards after a successful campaign that established her superiourity. She had fought against impossible odds, taking on vast armies, armies whose numbers were greater than the stars above. Warlord Ketsueki had carved a mighty swath through her enemies, carving the words of her epic deeds upon their very souls, and she had somehow done so without taking a scratch. Not a scratch! An entire army dispatched without a scratch.

Shēdo paused, her matted-over tail sagging. One paw clutched her side, which was hot, burning as though it was filled with fire, and she could feel a great flood of liquid sloshing about just beneath her skin. Conifer’s nose pressed against her, it was cool and brought her a little much needed comfort. It was getting harder to walk, it was, and there was something very wrong with her.

Warlord Ketsueki, a wise, cunning, and canny warrior, was absolutely brilliant in her campaign. Using smoke and fire, she forced the enemy from their fortifications and then met them by the score upon the field of battle, where she cut them down, severing heads, limbs, and intimate extremities. Yeouch! What a fight it was! What a battle! Arrows flew through the air like great flocks of birds, but our heroine was little more than a slippery shadow cloaked in darkness.

“I dying, Conifer… Shēdo sorry…”

No, no, no! Listen to the narrative… not a scratch! Untouched! Warlord Ketsueki destroyed her foes and everything is fine. It’s impolite to argue with the narrator! Haven’t we discussed this? It’s really very rude to contradict the narrator when he is trying to tell a story. Your story, no less.

Clutching her side, the thin, fevered skin tore and a torrent of foul-smelling hot liquid came oozing out. It soaked her blood-encrusted paw and ran down her side, the horrendous stench burning her eyes and making her feel faint. As more and more fluid came gushing out, she could feel a hollow place beneath the skin, the pocket that had been filled with decay.

“Shēdo?” Conifer’s voice sounded foalish, terrified, and panicked.

Reaching out with her other paw, she placed it on Conifer’s back and then tried to look at him while her vision doubled, tripled, and then there were far too many zebras to count. At least three. Hind legs quaking, she lost control of her bowels and a foul, runny sludge ran down the inside of her thighs for the second time this day. This sickness, whatever it was, would be her undoing. Cramps of the worst sort wracked her insides and she doubled over as her backside exploded with lava-like discharge.

“Shēdo, how could you?” Limey’s voice was strained to the point of breaking. “You’re ruining the story. My story. This is not how a heroic tale is supposed to end.”

“I so sorry.” It was a struggle to speak, but it was nothing compared to the battle to remain conscious. “Shēdo only one dog. Took on too much. Too many. I make mistake. Now, I suffer.”

“Shēdo, no.” Conifer’s voice was pleading and he remained at his friend’s side, not caring about the filth, the blood, the pus, or the smell. “Come on, you need to keep going. Maybe we can reach a town… maybe we can find help—”

“No.” Shēdo closed her eyes and swayed while more of her insides dribbled out. “No, now it ends. I will die… as a good dog.”

And with that, Shēdo One-Fang surrendered herself to the gathering darkness.

The darkness parted like a sundered veil and Shēdo had a vague awareness of something wet tickling her muzzle. Something cold ran down her fuzzy snout and into her eyes, which were dry as well as being crusted over. Somehow, her body had become the winter, it was freezing, except in all of the places where lances of fire burned her to her very soul. The very first thing she saw as her eyes started to focus was a paper pony weeping tears of ink, but with a single eyeblink, the strange figure was gone.

Above where the mysterious paper pony had stood, Shēdo could just make out dirt, roots, she saw the ground and it was comforting. Inhaling, she pulled warm, smoky air into her lungs, greedy for it, and a soupy cough made her insides bubble as she sputtered. Coughing hurt like nothing else she had ever experienced and explosions of stars formed in her vision.

“See, Conifer, I told you I could save her… though I must confess, I had my doubts for a while,” a strange voice said.

There was a crunch—a sound very much like a log being put on a fire—then there was a crackle—a sound very much like a fire feeding—and the flickering firelight caused the shadows to dance along the roots above Shēdo’s head. In the shadows, she saw things, she was certain that among the dancing shadows and the exploding starbursts in her vision that she could see the silhouette of a playful, prancing pony.

“Shēdo? Can you hear me? Shēdo? Did the fever give you brain damage? Say something… please? Please, please say something.”

The sound of Conifer’s voice made Shēdo want to leap up from where she lay to comfort him, but she had no strength. In her weakened state, she couldn’t even move her head, and unable to look about, she tried to say something to put Conifer’s mind at ease. The first deep breath made her cough and splutter more, but shallow breathing seemed to be the right thing to do.

“Conifer,” she gasped, and she did not recognise the sound of her own voice.

“Shēdo, I found help… her name is Cranberry… she pulled a rusty arrowhead out that was stuck in your ribs and then she gave you stuff to give you a fever and then she kept you alive and I helped as best I could.”

“Water.”

“Yes, I was trying to give you water but I made a mess of it,” Conifer replied. “I didn’t know it would wake you up. Let me try again.”

Conifer came into her vision holding a tin cup in his mouth. Shēdo could see the shadows dancing along his stripes—stripes like streaks of ink on paper. There was something different about Conifer, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. Tilting his head, some of the water spilled from the tin cup, and Shēdo opened her mouth to catch it. The blessed coolness of it soothed her flaming tongue and she let out a groan of relief as the liquid transmogrified her tongue, somehow changing it from dried, cracked leather back into a tongue once more.

“I’ll have to go and hunt something, I suppose,” a strange voice said. “Keep giving her water, Conifer, as much as she can drink. When I come back, I’ll see if I can make an infusion of winterwort to help cool her down. I hope I’m able to catch something.”

The water trickling into her mouth did much to revive her and Shēdo felt her body struggling to move. Muscles tensed, burning with agonising fire, and her guts writhed with volcanic serpents. Her nose, so dry that it was cracked, soaked in the water like thirsty flowers drank the rains of spring. Above her, she could see Conifer looking down at her, and there was terror in his eyes.

When the water was gone, the zebra colt bounded away to go and fetch more.

The fire was now more blazing coals than roaring flames and Shēdo stared at the iron pot with growing hunger. She had drank her cooling drink, the winterwort draught, and it had left her feeling a little shivery, but in a good way. Now she was sitting up, but only with Conifer’s help, and she had to prop herself up against him. Shadows danced along the curved confines of the cave and the space around them was dim. The scent of cooking meat made Shēdo drool, and she couldn’t wait for the food to be done.

“I’m not really a surgeon,” Cranberry said in a soft, subdued whisper. “Just an adventurer and a wayfarer. I didn’t think that I could save you, but little Conifer here is surprisingly skilled as an alchemist. That rusty arrowhead was almost your undoing.”

“I only know a little about alchemy but I had no way of pulling out that arrow head or stitching up your wounds.” Conifer, in an affectionate gesture, pressed his nose into Shēdo’s neck, not caring that she was filthy and stinky. “After you fell, I panicked and I ran around looking for help for a bit. I didn’t find help, but I did find this campground, so I dragged you here and I lit a big fire outside and I tried to keep you alive and by sheer luck, Cranberry came along.”

There was an eye-dazzling glow of magic when Cranberry stirred the pot and her nostrils crinkled in disgust at the scent of cooking meat. “I was in need of a place to rest and I knew about this Crown-funded campsite. There are wards here that push back the horrors of the wilderness and this place is as safe and secure as any during these times.”

With her trembling paw, Shēdo lifted up the tin cup so that she could have a drink. The water was cool, cold even, clean, clear, and sweet tasting. It was water that had been brought up from the deep earth, the best kind of water, and it was loaded down with minerals. In short, it was perfect for Shēdo during her recovery, and she made big, greedy slurps.

“How long has it been?” Shēdo asked as she pulled the cup away from her parched lips.

Conifer and Cranberry looked at one another and a flurry of conversation took place with raised eyebrows and strange equine facial expressions that Shēdo did not understand. Dogs had expressive faces, but equines? While expressive, they were alien, though some understanding could be gleaned if one paid attention.

“It’s been about a week or so,” Cranberry said in reply. “Has it really been that long? Time has gone by in a blur. Conifer and I spent so much time talking and we’ve become such fast friends.”

“What about Limey?” Shēdo took another drink when she was done speaking and the cold water made her innards ache.

“He went silent.” Conifer sounded sad to Shēdo’s ears. “He… was upset… and he went silent and he refused to say anything. I heard him crying a few times, but when I tried to talk to him about it, he refused to answer me.”

“Shēdo…” Cranberry continued to stir and now stared into the fire. “What made you do this? Conifer… he told me what happened. What you did. He spoke with so much detail that I knew that he had to have been close by to witness it. I don’t know how to feel about all of this.”

“Bad dogs must be punished,” Shēdo replied without a moment’s hesitation. “We dogs once mighty and noble. We dogs once good and trusted. We dogs once pony friends… earth pony friends.” She struggled with the strange memories in her mind, memories that she did not know the source of, how she had them, or why she had them. Visions, images, stories, there were things inside of her head now that hadn’t been there before her long sleep and recovery.

“Earth ponies worked above and we dogs worked below. Had friendship. Kept the land alive with friendship. Friendship is gone, now land is dying. Need friendship to return to save land before it too late.” Perplexed, Shēdo’s face sagged with a bemused expression common to hounds. “Earth ponies and dogs meant to be together, to act as one.”

“Shēdo?” Conifer lifted his hoof, twisted his body around, and touched the side of Shēdo’s face. “Those fever dreams must have done a number on you. Drink more water.”

“I, Shēdo, must remind dogs of purpose.”

Frowning, Cranberry shook her head. “The dead have no memory. We Equestrians believe strongly in forgiveness and letting others live… to learn… to regret their mistakes… and perhaps, if all goes well, to do better. Lopping off heads doesn’t facilitate learning, Shēdo.”

“Many bitches lived,” Shēdo replied, “and pups who saw the Black Hound. I saved them. Freed them. They will remember the Black Hound, and maybe they will do good.” Making a feeble effort, she wrapped her foreleg around Conifer and held tight to him, because she felt so faint. “If those pups grow up and do bad… the Black Hound will come for them too.”

“But what does it accomplish?” Cranberry asked.

Shēdo shrugged, or tried to, but the pain of doing so was too great. “We dogs not like you ponies. We have different ways. We have forgotten our ways, and we are bad now. Honour is dead. The ancient path is lost to us. A darkness has stolen our purpose and from darkness, I, Shēdo, will restore our honour.”

“Revenge can only take you down a path of ruination,” Cranberry said as she stirred with a little more force and the metal spoon scraped against the sides of the cast iron pot. “Look, I know a lot about diamond dogs, and what they do. I’ve encountered them. I’ve saved slaves from them. I’ve even had to kill a few, as regrettable as it was, and every day I feel a keen sense of shame for my actions, even though it was necessary. You went into that fight with revenge and murder on your mind, and saving the others was an afterthought. This is a bad path, Shēdo.”

Blinking, Shēdo gave thought to the vibrant red mare’s words, and did not know how to respond. Did she stay the course and do what she thought was right, or did she acknowledge she was on a bad path? Did she acknowledge pony standards of right and wrong? Troubled, Shēdo thought of Minori, wise, gentle Minori, and tried to think of Minori’s lessons. Those words had faded, they seemed distant now.

“Revenge,” Shēdo said, her mind now wavering between the present and what felt like a distant past, “is a self-fueling fire that consumes all it touches, but still demands more—”

“If you know this, then why pursue this?” Cranberry demanded.

Minori’s voice could almost be heard now, and Shēdo’s ears twitched as they strained to listen. “Revenge is also like a swamp. Once within, it is too easy to be mired down in the muck. It is easy to get stuck, to become part of the swamp. I, Shēdo, am in the mud now. To try to save me is to become like me, stuck in the swamp.”

“I don’t believe that,” Cranberry retorted and she let go the spoon.

“Even those who die in muck serve purpose,” Shēdo said, feeling a strange calm overwhelm her. “Shēdo has come into swamp of her own making, and she will give her body so that this place might have life.”

“You’re still sick with fever, that’s what’s wrong with you.” Cranberry rolled her eyes, shook her head, and let out a snort. “I’ve pulled others out of murks and mires. I’ve saved myself from them too. You’re being too fatalistic. It’s probably a symptom of the delirium.”

Resting her bulk against Conifer, Shēdo wasn’t so sure. Shivering, she began to grow more cold than hot, and her aching muscles all tensed in protest of the cutting chill. She had never really understood Minori’s fables before, she knew that she just wasn’t smart enough to grasp them, but now, for some reason, she had some small sense of understanding.

“Revenge is a howling dog trapped in the dark, telling other dogs to stay away.”

Cranberry, hearing this, leveled her stern, no-nonsense gaze upon Shēdo and replied, “Stew is done. If it is the last thing I ever do, I’m going to sort you out.”

Author's Note

This story isn't dead.

A bitch has questions

What makes a hero? I’ll tell you; I don’t know. For the longest time, I wasn’t concerned with heroes. There was only The Fight, and it was good. No reason, no rhyme, just The Fight. Some of us want to be heroes, we dream of it, we strive for it, we give all of ourselves for it, and then, for whatever reason, we lose ourselves to The Fight. I had a friend once… I think. I had a reason to do good. There was a reason to be a hero; because it is the right thing to do… and maybe because it might make your friend like you. I just wanted to be liked.

Shēdo could be a hero; she certainly has all of the right stuff, doesn’t she? But if she is Warlord Ketsueki she can’t be a hero. I wanted her to be Warlord Ketsueki; behold at how all of the world trembles at her name! For glory! For blood! For The Fight! Lost in the moment of The Fight, all memories are sublimated. Troubling thoughts of somepony once my friend? All gone, and good riddance, right? Right? I thought I knew what I wanted, but then the worst thing happened; Shēdo became my friend.

I am not a very good friend. Verily, I led her down the path of Warlord Ketsueki and preyed upon her desire for revenge. Being the monster that I am, I used my power and my influence to bend her to my will. Truthfully, I manipulated her and burrowed into her mind—just as I once did to my last friend—and I impaired her judgment. Oh woe, I clouded her ability to make good decisions. To both of them.

Strange, I remember what I once wanted, I have awakened. Can I undo what I have done? I have taken a hero away from the world and given it Warlord Ketsueki instead. The world needs fewer warlords and more heroes. What I’ve done… what I’ve done. I remember another… she was good to me… and I exploited her… I think? Is that my nature? Can I do no better?

Is it too late?

The world needs a hero…

It is time to let go of Shēdo’s mind and hope that she forgives me.

“Conifer, you seem troubled. I told you, your friend is going to be fine. Better, even, if we can get these ideas out of her head.” While speaking, Cranberry plucked a bird she had killed while out hunting. It was an action performed without thinking, an awful task done out of necessity.

Clutching her side, the hollowed out aching place where the rusty arrowhead had lodged, Shēdo shivered and waited for food. Her body was wracked by fever and chills, but at least she was clean now. It felt good to be clean, even though the vigourous scrubbing had caused a number of her wounds to open up and bleed. Cranberry said this was good, because it let the poison out, and Shēdo was inclined to believe the kind unicorn mare.

“I had strange dreams,” the zebra colt said in a voice that was difficult to hear over the fire. Shaking his head, Conifer looked troubled, and his vivid magenta eyes reflected the firelight in an odd, almost mystical way.

“Nightmares?” Cranberry continued plucking. “Feeling worried about losing your friend? See a little more violence than is good for you? That happens on the road… it does things to ponies. Changes them. Probably does things to zebras too. We’re not so different. Poor kid, you’re stuck running around with a diamond dog pup whose brain is addled with thoughts of revenge. I predict a lot more violence in your future.” The red mare’s eyes darted in Shēdo’s direction and a pointed stare was made.

“I saw Shēdo’s strange paper pony,” the colt confessed. “I… I think… I think I’ve been dreaming about her for a while now, but I can’t remember.” Shaking his head, he had more to say and did so in an unsteady, quavering voice. “I think I’m remembering now though. She poured ink into my stripes and talked about friendship. How important friendship is. My stripes came alive and moved like swaying grass on the savanna or shadows cast upon the wall by a fire. She said my name would become a blessing upon the tongues of diamond dogs everywhere.”

“Shared delusion…” Cranberry sighed out her response. “Wonderful. Kid, it’s just fever dreams. Think about what you said. Why would a diamond dog revere a zebra? At best, you are a slave. At worst, a meal. That’s crazy talk. I think all of this stress and violence is messing with your mind.”

“Maybe.” Conifer shrugged. “Shēdo started having these dreams long before she had this fever. Shēdo was told that the old diamond dog gods passed away because they were forgotten. Something weird seems to be happening and it is centered around Shēdo.”

“She picked up a magic sword and it possessed her, as magic weapons tend to do. If you want to find your paper pony, look no further than that weird green witchfire blade.” Cranberry’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. Cringing, she pulled out a sharp knife and gutted the bird she had plucked. Disgusted snorty-snorts shot out of her nostrils like cannon blasts while she picked through the edible gizzards.

Shēdo licked her lips and remained in silence.

“Conifer”—Cranberry struggled to speak through her powerful disgust—“green magic is almost always bad magic. Dark magic is frequently green. Changeling magic is green. Disharmonious magic is almost exclusively green and witchfire is the greenest green magic there is. Every unicorn with a lick of magical education knows to fear green magic in any form.”

After a moment she added, “It’s not always bad though, just most of the time. Maybe ninety, ninety-five percent of the time. Some unicorns have green magic naturally, and in my experience, they shouldn’t be trusted either, ‘cause green magic is just bad. There’s a pair of grifters known as Flim and Flam. Unicorns. Green magic. Can’t be trusted.”

Shēdo—not knowing anything at all about magic—remained silent.

“I think you’re wrong about diamond dogs,” Conifer said to Cranberry.

“How so, little zebra friend?” There was nothing condescending in Cranberry’s tone, only warm sincerity could be heard.

“I am neither a slave nor a meal for Shēdo.” The zebra colt squirmed for a bit, tapped his chin with his hoof, and then added in a low voice, “Okay, technically Shēdo is my owner, but that arrangement was made by Chromium the dragon for my benefit. Shēdo doesn’t treat me as a slave though. I am a very valuable possession. Really, I am!”

Shaking her head, Cranberry sighed out the words, “This just keeps getting weirder and weirder.”

“I am a vessel of Chromium’s knowledge, a treasure trove of information, and I was given to Shēdo for safekeeping. She saved me from a very public toilet that was actually a troll. Shēdo puts all of my needs ahead of her own and my safety before hers.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Cranberry nodded. “Yes, quite a master-and-slave relationship you’ve got going here.”

For lack of a better response, Conifer snorted and then made disgruntled zebra noises.

With a grin that stretched from ear to ear, Cranberry skewered the bird onto a couple of sharp sticks and then hung that over the fire, which was mostly hot coals at this point. As for the gizzards, she plopped those into a pan full of water and left them to boil. Much to Shēdo’s sadness, the rest of the offal was tossed over the embers to burn away. At long last, the bird had begun roasting, though Shēdo was hungry enough to eat it raw.

“Shēdo…” Cranberry turned her smiling face to look upon Shēdo and there was a cunning gleam in her eyes. “What happens when your quest for revenge gets Conifer here killed? Or worse, eaten. Think you can live with that? Maybe, if things go real bad, you’ll be forced to watch. Or worse, partake. Is revenge worth that? Is your need for revenge worth shirking your duties?”

What came out of her mouth surprised Shēdo One-Fang: “No.”

It seemed to surprise Conifer as well, and the zebra (or was it zedbra, she could never tell) colt gave her a curious stare of befuddlement. Stupefied, Shēdo tried to make sense of what had just come out of her mouth while her heart gave a few feeble thumpity-thumps inside of her girth. Even Cranberry seemed surprised by this outcome, and her smile was now gone, replaced with a peculiar, puzzled expression. At least, Shēdo thought she looked puzzled. It was hard to tell with pony faces.

“I can’t tell if you’ve come to your senses or if the delirium has finally passed.” Cranberry poked the fire with a stick to stir the embers and the smell of roasting bird flesh filled the air.

“Shēdo still do right thing for diamond dogs…” Confused, she tried to make sense of her own thoughts, which now seemed strange to her. “Still make diamond dogs better. Not giving up. But Shēdo not risk Conifer. Must find way.”

“To seek revenge is to keep your own wounds festering.” Cranberry’s eyes were expressive and the reflection of the firelight made them luminous in some meaningful way. “To seek justice is to finally close those wounds. Revenge never satisfies, it only escalates the exchange. Mercy is ultimately more meaningful, though… sometimes… regrettably… killing is unavoidable.”

“How do Shēdo do what must be done?”

“Look, I won’t lie…” Cranberry seemed pained saying the words. “If you are going to stick to this business of yours, the time will come when you have to take life. I don’t like it, but that is subjectively true. But you can lead by example. Be known for your mercy… for all those times you didn’t kill.”

“But bad dogs not fear Shēdo if she kind.”

“Maybe not,” Cranberry replied, “but maybe, just maybe, the young dogs will want to grow up and be like you. And over time, the young dogs that grow up start to replace the bad dogs. I suppose that’s me as a pony talking. We equines tend to go for slow, sweeping changes that happen over time. Sudden rapid change scares us. Spooks us. It overwhelms us and sends us running. If there is a problem, we tend to write it off as a bad generation and then we work to change the foals for the next generation and because of this, changes take time. It is a game of patience.”

Unfortunately for Shēdo, she couldn’t even grasp this concept. All she could think about were bad dogs in charge forever, making more bad pups, creating a terrible future that stretched on forever. Bad dogs had bad pups, such was the way of things, right? Surely this was the cause of how things had reached this point. Then again, she had spared the pups with the hopes that the bitches might rear them better. It was far too confusing for her pain-addled mind and a befuddled whimper escaped her jowls.

“But what if you ponies just keep making bad foals?” Shēdo asked, perplexed. “What if foals not changed, but made worse?”

At this, Cranberry shrugged. “That happens. That’s the way of things. Sometimes, it takes a few generations to sort things out. But change starts small, then grows. A few concerned parents raise their foals to do better. Those foals grow into adults that do better, and maybe, with a bit of luck, change the world around them. And then—”

“But bad ponies have foals too,” Shēdo said to Cranberry, almost frantic now to find the meaning in all of this.

With a sigh, Cranberry nodded. “They do, Shēdo. They do. Things don’t always change for the better, perhaps. But we ponies have done pretty good for ourselves. Equestria is one of the most enlightened and advanced nations there is. It is a slow, steady march for progress. Though I guess there has been some violent upheaval here and there.”

“It is different for ponies.” Conifer scowled in concentration and something about his eyes suggested that he was struggling to think thoughts too big for his head. “You ponies have Princess Celestia to guide you forward. She knows the mistakes of the past… she makes it possible for you ponies to have your slow approach to change. What do the diamond dogs have? Who remembers their mistakes from the past?”

“You’re a smart one, Conifer.” Cranberry shrugged. “I don’t have an answer.”

Where before, her mind had been fogged over with but one desire, Shēdo now found herself questioning everything. She had doubts; but also a greater determination than ever to go forwards… somehow. These thinks were too big for her head, to big to wrap her mind around. What had happened? What had changed? Had almost dying changed her? What brought her to this point? The goal was still there, the desire, but the motivation, the means to go about it, that had changed. She would not sacrifice Conifer for it.

“Shēdo need to see stars. Need to clear head. I need to go outside.”

“Hang on,” Cranberry replied, “I’ll help you…”

What have I done? Have I ruined Shēdo’s sense of purpose? Now she has all of these dreadful doubts—doubts that will surely be her undoing. While they’re outside, looking up at stars, I’m all alone and muttering to myself. Shēdo just wanted to be my friend, she tried really hard, too. Truthfully, she was good to me, a better friend than I deserved, just like one other.

Can an old sword turn over a new blade?

Have I lost my edge?

Can I still make a good point?

All that Shēdo has left is her determination, which is formidable. Without me clouding her judgment, maybe she can do something with it. Maybe I can still help. Maybe I can still be helped. Perhaps I am what I feared of myself all along; a dullard. A question; can the narrator be the villain in his own story? I think he can. Can the narrator be saved? But what if the narrator narrated himself into a corner? Alas, I simply cannot announce that I am good now. I’ve done nothing but run my mouth to anybody who’ll listen… and perhaps to one or two who weren’t so keen on listening.

I’ve run my mouth for so long that everything I have to say has lost all meaning.

Do I talk to hear myself think?

I don’t think I can save my friend, but can my friend save me?

Author's Note

The ending of this story got a major reworking. Same ending, really, same end results. But more questions and a little doubt.

Some bitches have all the luck

It was easy to fall down a hole—you aimed yourself downwards and let gravity handle the rest. Falling down a hole was certainly preferable to allowing herself to be caught by Dig Dag. This time, her insolence would cost her a leg, maybe more. Sharp claws allowed her to slow her fall, but she knew that she would be picking gravel out of delicate places later.

Still better than Dig Dag.

Shēdo came to a skidding halt and blinked a few times. It was dark down here, too dark for even her eyes to see, which were accustomed to the dark places found below ground. Tilting her head back, she looked up. There was no sunlight to be seen, the opening she had lept down was far too tiny for Dig Dag and his hunters. She had slid down the hole at an angle and now she was where the sun did not shine.

It had been nice seeing the sun, even if it had almost blinded her after going months without seeing it. She fumbled around with the crude pack slung to her back and almost tore her tattered patchwork vest. Whimpering in the dark, she made herself be more careful, as what few possessions she had were precious things. Her patchwork vest had been made for her by Minori out of old scraps and bits of rats.

After much effort, she freed herself from her pack filled with what few meager supplies she had managed to filch. She wasn’t proud about stealing, but Minori had forgiven her in advance, and that sort of made things okay. With her paw, she fumbled around inside, found a short stick with a sticky end, and pulled it out. Back inside her paw went and after much searching, she found her chunk of flint and a sliver of steel, a rare treasure indeed.

What had once been part of a shattered spearhead was now Shēdo’s most valuable possession. In the dark, she struck the sliver of steel against her chunk of flint and bright showers of sparks appeared, almost blinding her. Some of the sparks landed on the stick with the sticky end. After a few tries, the pitch ignited and Shēdo had herself a torch so that she could see.

Standing up, she held the torch up to have a look around. What she saw intrigued her. Refusing to be distracted, she hunkered back down, scooped up her treasures with one paw, and stuffed them back into her makeshift rucksack. Now she was free to have a look around at her curious surroundings.

The walls were made of crumbling bricks and there were spiderwebs everywhere. She stuck her torch into a wad of webbing, made a circular motion, and smiled when her torch blazed a little brighter. Shēdo One-Fang had a curious smile, a smile she was not ashamed of. She wore her smile like a badge of honour.

Dig Dag had punched her right in the snout for being a defiant pup.

The torchlight flickered and cast dancing shadows along her short, sparse, plain grey fur. Most of it had fallen out from malnutrition and abuse. Even now, her stomach rumbled and growled, but she had no food in her rucksack. Turning about, she faced a rotten, crumbling door. The hinges had long since rusted away and the rotten, decaying wood leaned against the door frame.

This was an old place, from long ago. Shēdo knew of these old places because the males in her tribe talked about all of the old places they had found and plundered. She waited, her ears perked, trying to detect the sound of digging, worried that she might be followed. But it was quiet, far too quiet, and she was all alone with nothing but the growls of her stomach to keep her company.

Her eyes, mismatched, glittered in the torchlight. Like her mother, she had one pale blue eye and one pale green eye. Her mother had been a spirit seer, but Shēdo saw no evidence of spirits when she peered into the flames of the forge. She only saw hot pokers left there as a reminder to make bitches behave.

Turning her head, she looked back at the place where she had fallen down. There was no going back, only forwards. The door seemed the obvious choice. The pads of her hindpaws were silent against the stone, Shēdo walked on shadows, just as Minori had taught her. She approached the door, cautious, holding her torch.

The door crumbled at her touch, much of it collapsing into dusty, rotten splinters.

Beyond the crumbling doorway, darkness beckoned, begging to be banished.

Every dog has their day, and Shēdo was enjoying hers. This old buried building was quite a place and she poked both her snout and her torch into every inviting corner. Once, this had been a beautiful place, she could tell by the stone blocks, but now, it was just a ruin. But it was a nice ruin, filled with big, juicy, delicious spiders.

She had no idea what this place had been, but it was big. It was bigger than the mine that she and her clan called home. Room after room filled with old, rotten things. And spiders. A veritable feast of spiders. There were rats here too, she could smell them, but she hadn’t yet seen one. If she did see one though, she planned to have a delicious rat roast for dinner.

Even better, she wouldn’t have to share.

In the middle of a large, round room, she found an opening in the floor. At some point, a trap door might have existed there, but it had long since crumbled away. The stone stairs were still very much intact though, and Shēdo found herself curious as to what might be down there. She hesitated at the top of the stairs and squinted at her torch. It was sputtering a bit, but it should still be good for a while. If worst came to worst, she could feel her way out of here.

She was deep beneath the ground now and the air was stale. Shēdo’s paws made not a single sound upon the stairs and she was almost holding her breath as she descended. Something about this place made her hackles stand up. She could smell magic, strange magic, and her diggy-diggy claws tingled with strange energy.

At the bottom of the stairs was a long hallway and double doors that had long since crumbled away. She stepped over the rubble and made her way forwards with a peculiar sensation vibrating in her diggy-diggy claws. Ahead of her was a long table that hadn’t yet rotted away for some reason, and there were things on the table.

At the far end of the table was something that needed a meal more than she did. Shēdo peered ahead, squinting in the darkness, and her eyes took in the sight of the very hungry pony. He was all bones and he wore rusting, crumbling armor. Or maybe a she. Shēdo didn’t know and she couldn’t tell. The bones were sitting in a fine looking chair that only showed the beginnings of rot.

One mouldering hoof rested upon the pommel of a sword.

And lo, thus did the hero find the sword.

“Who’s there?” Shēdo demanded. She looked about, her head jerking around. She couldn’t tell if the words had been inside or outside of her head. “Show yourself, or I stab you with my diggy-diggy claws!”

And thus, the hero did show that she was brave.

Again with the mysterious words that she was unable to locate the origin. The torch trembled in her paw and Shēdo knew that the torch was a poor weapon. She stared at the old bones and was certain that they had moved. The skull appeared to be laughing at her, it’s jawbone hung open and something about the empty eye sockets seemed merry.

“Woof!”

The sound echoed through the ancient gallery, but nothing answered. Shēdo licked her one fang and decided that it might be best to arm herself with the fancy sword. The sword didn’t look rusted at all and the grip appeared to be made out of fine jade. Now she was certain that the old bones were looking right at her, she had blinked and the skull had moved.

Reaching out, she took the sword in her paw and lifted it. She felt strange, peculiar, she felt strong, warm, and powerful. The sword thrummed in her grip, and she let out a whimper of fear. It was like touching a beehive and the jade grip was warm against her grippy paw pads. She whirled the sword around, flicked the latchet with her thumb, and the sheath slid off. It clattered to the floor with the sound of metal on stone.

The room filled with a baleful green glow and Shēdo was mesmerised by the blade she held. It blazed with witchy green fire that danced along the straight, broad blade that was as long as she was tall. And Shēdo wasn’t very tall, not yet, but one day, she would be. Maybe. She hoped.

“At last, I am unsheathed! Oh, it feels so good to unsheath and let it all hang out!”

The voice made Shēdo’s ears attempt to stand up and she almost dropped the blade.

“Oh, by the mighty teats of the alicorns, I am FREE!”

“What are you?” Shēdo asked. The sword in her paw felt almost weightless.

“No, who am I. Who!”

Swallowing, Shēdo stared at the glowing green blade as her torch flickered out and went dark. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I am Limey. Now be a dear and get us out of this hole, will you?”

“Maybe I should put you back,” Shēdo said.

“Now why would you want to do that?” Limey demanded. “I am the all powerful butterknife! Toast shall look upon me and despair! I can cut cheese without effort!”

The diamond dog tried to drop the blade but found that she could not. Whimpering, she focused on pulling her paw away and she flung the sword. There was a flash of green and the sword was right back in her paw. She let out a startled yelp and tossed down her burned out torch so she could grip the sword with both paws.

“Listen up, pup. Let me spare you the trouble. I’m a cursed sword, but I’m not a bad sort. You see that pile of bones over there? I turned that worthless so and so into a powerful warlord. He took me into battle and carved himself out an empire. He brought peace and prosperity to his fellow ponies.”

“What are you?” Shēdo asked again.

“Who, am I… I am Limey, the Chaotic Spirit of Narration! Haven’t you heard of me?”

“No.” Shēdo’s voice was rather quiet in the dark.

“What, did you grow up in a cave or something, pup?” the sword asked.

“Yes,” Shēdo replied.

The sword let out an arrogant sniff. “I am Limey, the Chaotic Spirit of Narration. I am the victim of prejudice, I tell you. A long, long, long time ago, some annoying little filly named Celestia set out to prove herself, and she sought to battle the ancient enemy of her kind, the draconequus. She was in a big damn hurry to grow up and make a name for herself.”

“I see.” Intrigued, Shēdo’s floppy ears perked up, or tried to.

“My only crime was my lack of symmetry!” Limey cried and his blade flashed a brighter shade of green. “She came out of nowhere, this dorky little filly with her big stupid glasses, and so we threw down. And I get my ass kicked by a bookworm. A bookworm!”

Shēdo didn’t know what a bookworm was, but books were sacred and special. The idea of worms eating them made her feel uncomfortable.

“I’m immortal, see, and she can’t exactly kill me. She’s mortal though, but I don’t exactly want to kill her. But I’m getting my ass handed to me by this brat that I’ve heard stories about, and the last thing I want to do is call down the wrath of the almighty alicorns by killing her. She beats my ass like an unloved third born, wrecks my body, and then binds my immortal spirit into this sword, that mouthy, know-it-all little cunt!”

Blinking, Shēdo understood prejudice. She was a diamond dog, an unloved and wretched creature.

“The mouthy little know-it-all underestimated my power and I escaped before she completed her awful alicorn transformation magics. I was still able to keep doing my schtick and being a sword isn’t so bad. Now I can heckle everyone and everything without consequences.”

“What is it that you do?” Shēdo asked, as she understood very little of what was being said.

“Well,” Limey replied, “I used to follow around Eternity and narrate her every action in a big dramatic voice. She did her best to banish me, but I kept coming back. She was just so studious, so serious, how could I resist? Her boring existence begged for narration, and being a generous spirit, I provided it for her. Like every other alicorn, she was an ungrateful hoof rag!”

Not understanding exactly what narration was, Shēdo’s head tilted off to one side.

“Then I narrated the brothers Chronos and Pale for a while, but they were exceedingly boring. BOOOOOOOORING!” Limey’s voice echoed through the chamber and Shēdo heard the rattle of old bones.

“When this little crybaby blue alicorn filly was born, I did some of my best narration ever, and my heckling was the first sound she heard. I can’t recall her name, but she was fond of staying up way past her bedtime. Oh, the fun I had narrating her potty training!”

As the sword continued, Shēdo began to suspect that the sword might have deserved his fate. Still, he was a sword, and he seemed powerful. She eyed the old pile of bones in the chair and now was certain that they had moved once more. Both forelegs were crossed over his ribcage and his mouth was closed. She tried to recall how he looked when she had first saw him.

“So, tell me, pup, how would you like to be a hero with a magic sword?” Limey asked. “I’m a Plus Five Hecklemaster!”

Upon hearing this question, Shēdo’s first thought was of Dig Dag. Maybe she could cut him down and save Minori from her dreadful fate. A magic sword could go a long way towards making her powerful enough to face Dig Dag. She nodded and bowed her head to the sword she held in both paws.

“I am going to have so much fun narrating our adventures, my wacky little kensai puppy!”

Author's Note

This is a test. If this story is received well, it will gain more chapters. If not, well, I'll hit the complete tag and this will become a self-contained adventure with just one chapter. The whole premise of the story is rather sketchy to begin with, and to be honest, I don't know if it was a good idea to even post this one chapter.

My apologies in advance for subjecting you to this.

A bitch heads west

What to do, what to do. With the dawn came confusion; with confusion came fear and doubt. Shēdo had borne witness to something greater, something supernatural, she had seen the paw print of a god—the Black Hound. She had seen the evidence of his fury from the way he had written his name upon the land, and by doing so, he had burned his brand upon her heart.

Shēdo didn’t know what to do or where to go next. All she had was her sword, the tattered remains of her filthy rucksack, and four paws willing to walk. But which way? After much thinking, Shēdo remembered that there was three, yes three directions she could walk. She was pretty certain there was three.

“Which way does Shēdo go?” she said aloud.

“Well, I think it would be suitably dramatic if you, as the hero, went west, towards the setting sun,” Limey replied. Then, after a moment, he added, “Go to your left, Shēdo.”

It took Shēdo a few tries, but she sorted out her three directions, and then took off in a general north-northeastern direction. This kept up for a while, and the sounds of huffy-puffy breathing could be heard from Limey, until the breathing reached a frantic pitch and the sword let out a low moan.

“No! Your other left! Thataway!” As these words were spoken by Limey, Shēdo felt her body being nudged in a different direction and she gave way to the gentle encouragement.

There was no road, no path, no trail, just trees and dirt. The wilderness surrounded them on all sides, though Shēdo knew that there were cities off somewhere. Pony cities. Filled with ponies. Doing whatever it was that ponies living in cities did. Perhaps she would find them and explain that she was a good dog.

Her blue tongue hanging out, Shēdo went west.

At least three days passed, yes, three days. At least, Shēdo was pretty certain that three days had passed. She tried counting them on her paw-fingers and each time, she came up with three. Now, three days later, she had come upon a small settlement of ponies, and she sat high in the fork of a tree watching them, wondering if they were friendly.

There were some buildings made of stones piled atop one another with sod roofs that Shēdo quite liked, it was much nicer than living in a hole in the ground. The ponies had gardens, vegetables, and she could see carrots, beans, and cabbages. All those vegetables meant that there would be delicious critters wanting to eat them, and she wondered if, perhaps, the ponies might need some help with pest control.

But approaching them was the problem. Shēdo was scared; diamond dogs and ponies didn’t always get along, and Shēdo knew why. There were lots of bad dogs and bad dogs made everything worse. These ponies seemed nice, there were some foals, some goats, at least three sheep, and some chickens that Shēdo knew better than to chase.

At some point, Shēdo knew that she would have to come down from her tree and say hello.

A big pony approached, an earth pony. He was a faded, dusty orange and he was wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat. Shēdo, on all fours, watched and waited, while making no sudden moves, but she did wag her tail. Wagging one’s tail was friendly, and good manners. She wanted so much to please and to be accepted.

“Hi, I Shēdo!”

The big earth pony paused, and the other ponies behind him kept a safe distance. Shēdo studied his face, and she realised that she was being studied. On all fours, Shēdo had to look up at the pony, and she wondered if this made him feel safer.

“Hullo, my name is Bolero Danver.”

This wasn’t going quite as planned, and Shēdo felt a bit worried. Had she failed to impress? She wagged her tail a bit more, but she wasn’t sure what one did to make friends with ponies. Sitting down in the dirt, Shēdo did her best to look harmless.

“My son, Nelson Danver, he’s a unicorn, and he’s been watching you for a while.” Bolero’s stern face softened just a bit and he gave Shēdo a nod. “You’ve been watching us for a while, off in yonder tree. I don’t think you’re here to cause trouble, and I don’t mean to be unfriendly. Times are hard, right now, and we’ve lost some of ours to the wilds.”

“Shēdo sorry. Can Shēdo help?”

Bolero looked quite surprised for a moment, and his eyes widened a bit. Reaching up, he pushed his hat back to have a better look at Shēdo, and behind him, some of the gathered ponies began murmuring. The patriarch began scratching his chin as he continued to study Shēdo. After some time, he spoke.

“You’d help us? I gotta say, that comes as quite a shock. We’ve been raided by diamond dogs before, a few months back. Nopony was taken, thankfully, but the fighting was nasty. We’re in a spot of trouble… we’ve lost two mares, a stallion, and one foal. We’ve also lost sheep, a goat, and our cows are gone. Now, we don’t know what’s been doing it, but if you want to help us, you could go and talk to the dragon that lives over the ridge. I ain’t saying the dragon did it, but the dragon does have a zebra captive, and it seems likely.”

Shēdo blinked. A dragon!

“We don’t want you getting killed,” Bolero said as he stared Shēdo in the eye. “I don’t want that on my conscience. But you do have that fancy sword, and you seem friendly enough. The dragon might talk to you. If you could, find out what the dragon is up to and see if he’s the one stealing our kinfolk. When we saw him, he had himself a captive zebra, so maybe the dragon needs workers or slaves.”

The gathered ponies had hopeful looks upon their faces, sad, hopeful looks. These ponies knew loss just like Shēdo knew loss. Extending her hind leg, Shēdo scratched behind her ear for a moment, contemplating what to do. Limey seemed silent, for whatever reason, and she concluded that this decision was her own. She put her hind leg back down and wondered what she might do.

“Bolero, what if she gets captured?”

“Quiet, Okra!” Bolero turned to face the mare that had spoken. “Dragons see diamond dogs differently than they do us ponies.”

“They do?” Shēdo asked.

Turning back around, Bolero nodded. “From my limited understanding, the not so good dragons and the not so good diamond dogs trade with one another. Gems, ore, slaves… I done reckon that dragons see diamond dogs as being a little more useful to them than ponies.”

Nodding, Shēdo saw the wisdom in that, but also the wrongness. Her kind had a reputation. “Slave keeping wrong. Bad. Wrong. Shēdo’s whole clan killed, destroyed by Black Hound. Dig Dag did wrong, lived wrong, was wrong, and now we are all dead. I am all that is left. Just me. Poor Shēdo.” Looking into the earth pony’s eyes, she saw genuine, sincere sadness, and she was touched.

“I’m sorry, Shēdo… am I saying that right?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know who the Black Hound is… and I’m sorry that he took your whole clan. I lead this clan, and we try to do good. We try to keep our dealings fair and honest.” Bolero paused, and he chewed on his lip for a moment. Then, looking a little sadder, he continued, “Speaking of fair and honest, we have nothing to pay you with if you help us. We have no bits, no coins, no gems, we just have the food we’re growing and each other.”

“Shēdo help anyway, because Shēdo wants to be a good dog.”

“Be submissive. Be meek. Be respectful.” Bolero’s head lowered a bit and tilted off to one side. “Try to make the dragon think that there are more diamond dogs, and that you are more useful alive than dead.” The patriarch blinked once, then nodded. “Thank you, Shēdo. You are a good dog.”

Okra broke ranks and stepped closer, leaving the others behind her. She came to where Bolero stood, and ignored his disapproving glare. “A very good dog indeed. Perhaps you’d like to eat with us? I know you can eat soup and bread. Stay with us, sup with us before you go.”

Bolero’s hard expression softened, and he brushed up against Okra in a kind way. “Yes, stay with us. Share our food and companionship.”

“Okay.”

Lo, our heroine has been accepted by the gregarious but sinister equines who are now suddenly feeling just a little bit guilty that they were getting rid of a pesky, unwanted diamond dog by tricking her into being barbecued and eaten by a dragon. She’s such a rube. It’s a good thing she can’t hear me calling her a rube right now. Somehow, I have to keep Shēdo safe from these treacherous, awful equines. What to do, what to do. Fighting a dragon is a bit beyond our capabilities, methinks…

The shadows were becoming long and dark as the late afternoon sun shone over the edge of the ridge. Down below, on the floor of the valley, Shēdo saw the dragon in question. She didn’t know how long or big it was, but when she held her thumb up in front of her eye for perspective, the dragon was much bigger by far.

The dragon was big enough to eat the zebra she saw in one bite, but the dragon wasn’t eating the zebra, no. Squinting, she tried to make out what was on the ground, but she couldn’t quite see it. The zebra, a small zebra, was hunched over whatever it was, looking down at it. The dragon was pointing with his massive, scythe-like claw.

It was hard to tell, but it didn’t seem like the zebra was in any trouble.

Shēdo watched a little longer, and each time the dragon touched the zebra with a claw, she tensed up, waiting for the zebra’s little head to roll. Limey was silent, so much so that it bothered Shēdo, but she said nothing about it. The dragon was becoming a subject of much fascination, and the pup decided that it was time to introduce herself.

As she climbed down out of her tree, she remembered everything she had been told by the kind earth ponies.

“You finally came down out of your tree, pup.”

Halting in place, Shēdo looked up at the big dragon with big, shimmering eyes, in awe of the massive beast and his impressive, rumbling baritone. The dragon was looking at her, and Shēdo was looking at him, and she realised that she was really just a very small puppy, in the bigger scheme of things.

“What sort of dog goes climbing a tree?” the dragon demanded. “I’m trying to teach young Conifer here about the world all around him, and do you have any idea how difficult it is to explain a tree climbing dog? Cease violating the natural order of things! You are not a cat!”

“No, I Shēdo.”

“Indeed,” the dragon replied in a wry, smokey voice.

The zebra was a foal and Shēdo could see him staring at her with a curious expression. His coat was glossy, shiny even, and he had to be cleanest looking creature she had ever seen in the wilds. His white parts were so white that they gleamed. The dragon was big and silvery, he looked as though he was made from bright, shiny metal.

“My name is Chromium,” the dragon said, introducing himself, “and this is Conifer, my zebra. You are Shēdo, and I am guessing that you are a diamond dog whose pedigree goes back to Inujima. Konnichiwa, Shēdo.”

“Shēdo no speak old tongue. Sorry.”

“How regrettable,” the dragon said and then he let out a smouldering huff of disappointment. “Conifer, pay attention. Diamond Dogs from Inujima are quite different and distinct. Many are samurai, proud and noble sorts. The very best sort of dogs, really. Honourable, but many equines are made squeamish by their noble tradition of harvesting the heads of their enemies like cabbages. Now, Conifer, you mustn’t be judgmental, head collecting cults aren’t so bad, provided that they are collecting the right heads. The world could do with more severed heads, in my esteemed opinion. Too many empty heads taking up space and breathing my valuable air.”

“She’s little,” Conifer said in a somewhat squeaky voice.

“Well of course she’s little, she’s a puppy!” Chromium flexed his claws, which were longer than a sword, and he let out a smoggy, sooty sigh. “Honestly, the both of you aren’t even enough to make a decent kebab!”

Conifer, a curious little zebra indeed, came closer so that he could check Shēdo out. The zebra colt was fearless in a way that only zebra colts watched over by silver dragons could be. In no time at all, he was inches away from Shēdo, examining her, trying to understand the great mystery of the arboreal hound.

“She smells,” Conifer said to Chromium.

“Oh, how positively mortifying!” Chromium gasped as he threw up his claws in exasperation. “Conifer, how many times do I have to tell you that you can’t just go around saying exactly what is on your mind! Dragons can do that because we’re big enough to get away with it, but you… you are a zebra! You are a bite sized morsel! There isn’t even enough of you to choke on!”

Ears perking, Shēdo was puzzled by the strange way the dragon said the word ‘zebra.’ Zed-bra. Sitting down in the soft forest loam, she made herself comfortable. Flexing her diggy-diggy claws, she then laid them in her lap while she looked up at the dragon and the dragon looked down at her.

“I suppose those earth ponies sent you to talk with me about their missing kin.”

“Yep.” Shēdo nodded.

“Well, I had nothing to do with that, but I know who and what is responsible.” The dragon lowered his head down until he was eye to eye with Shēdo. “It’s embarrassing, really. I had something stolen and I’m too big to retrieve it. If you help me out, I’ll give you something valuable in return…”

Author's Note

Next chapter: our hero is sent off to deal with rats in the cellar.

A bitch's anger

Outside of Appleloosa, there had once been a lucrative mine. Long ago, this mine had passed from usefulness into uselessness as its wealth became harder and harder to dig out. Now, it served as the occasional burrow, a den for monsters, or, as of just a few weeks ago, a hideout for diamond dogs who had given themselves over to the forbidden delights of banditry.

It was this very same mine that Braeburn approached, moving from cover, going from tree to tree, stone to stone, traversing along the unseen routes that only earth ponies seemed to know. Just behind him was his lifelong friend and fellow law enforcement officer, Silverstar. The pair of them were fearful of what they might find—what they might encounter—but they were obligated to do their job. A wagon and a cask of lamp oil had been stolen and now, the inevitable conflict with the diamond dogs seemed unavoidable. The situation had come to a head and now confrontation was the only option.

Braeburn was not prepared for what he found though. Rather than an armed party of raiders, something else awaited at the entrance to the mine, something unexpected, something dreadful.

There was smoke, lots of smoke… and bodies.

“What the fronk happened here?” Braeburn asked in a drawn out voice of disbelief. Hearing a whimper from Sheriff Silverstar, Braeburn halted his advance to look over at his friend and boon associate. “You gonna be okay?”

“Naw, Braeburn. I’m gonna be sick,” Silverstar replied, his mustache quivering from the way his upper lip trembled.

Undaunted, Braeburn pressed ahead, determined to have a look. A crude fence had been constructed, no, not a fence, a row of sharpened wooden stakes had been erected, and on top of each stake was a severed head. A wooden box lid had been left behind as a crude sign, and it bore the words, ‘Blak Hund!’

Just as Braeburn was about to say something, Silverstar blew chunks. There were bodies, so many bodies, so many headless bodies of diamond dogs. Fighting back his rising gorge, Braeburn forced himself to take in the gristly sight of the massacre, hoping to figure out what had happened. Something had happened. Smoke—greasy and filled with ash—still poured out of the entrance to the mine, it curled upwards into the sky, forming a visible black column.

Cringing, the brave pony approached one of the bodies, and found it almost unbearable to look upon. This particular body had been almost cloven in twain, sliced from shoulder to groin. From the looks of it, only the tip of the blade had struck home, creating a fleshy, pulpy canyon running the length of the torso, somehow leaving the spine unsevered, but spilling forth all of the glistening innards. The mangled corpse was missing something important: its head.

Limbs were scattered about like fallen tree branches after a major storm. Bodies lay in a pile. Pools of blood had scabbed over and had attracted flies. Unable to stop himself, Braeburn too, lost his breakfast, and something about the sight of this left him feeling older somehow, as if some part of him had been lost forever, some part of his youth.

Wiping his mouth with his foreleg, Braeburn tried to focus on the task at hoof. These diamond dogs had been nothing but trouble since their arrival, and a dispatch had been sent to Princess Celestia not long ago. Now, the requested soldiers were not needed. Another dispatch would need to be sent to Princess Celestia, informing her that something worse was now in the area.

What could have done this? He almost didn’t want to know, fearing the knowledge would be far too terrible to bear. A pony had to grow old, and some things… some things stayed with a pony, like an unwelcomed guest who never left.

“Braeburn, have a look at this,” Silverstar said, calling for his friend to come and have himself a gander.

“A look at what,” Braeburn replied, doubting if he wanted a closer look.

“These bodies.” Silverstar gestured around and began pointing with his hoof at various corpses. “All males. No bitches, no pups.” The sheriff gagged and for a moment, it appeared as though he would spew again. Eyes bulging, stomach gurgling, he fought quite a battle to hold himself together. “I can see what happened here, Braeburn.”

“And whassat?”

“That cask of oil was poured into the mine and then set on fire.” Silverstar closed his eyes, sucked in some much needed wind, and then continued while he fought back the urge to heave. “Whatever did this, they smoked these dogs out. When they came out of the mine, they were ambushed. Blinded, choking on smoke, they came out and got torn to pieces by whatever did this.”

Braeburn couldn’t disagree.

“There has to be thirty or more males here… what could’ve done this, I wonder?” Silverstar shook his head and his bile-soaked mustache sagged.

“The Black Hound, whatever that is.” Braeburn pointed at the makeshift sign.

“Can you see the hatred, Brae?” Silverstar asked, and without looking, he pointed at a corpse that lay sprawled in the bloody mud. “This one was skewered right through the groin. One of his legs is gone and his head has been hacked off. This ain’t regular killing, Braeburn.”

“Naw, I suppose it ain’t.” Braeburn gagged, coughed, and then covered his nose with a foreleg in a futile attempt to keep the smell out. He looked around, his eyes never lingering on one body for too long, and noted that what Silverstar had said was true. No pups, no bitches. Not a one.

The sun was already merciless and as it rose over the ridge, it gained strength. It was the sort of heat that bored through a hat and Braeburn could feel the sun trying to penetrate his brain. This had been done in one night—one horrible night of violence had caused this. Try as he might, Braeburn could not envision what sort of monster had perpetrated this slaughter.

When he looked away, he saw wagon tracks and moved over to investigate. The tracks lead away from the direction of town, and a great many paw prints could be seen in the dirt. “Hey, hey Silver, I think I done found the bitches and the pups! They went thisaway!”

“That don’t make no sense, Brae.” Silverstar stood in place, shaking his head from side to side. “Why? Why kill all these diamond dogs, but spare the bitches and the pups? Why allow them to get away with a wagon and presumably, anything they dug out of the mine?”

“This was an ambush, and a damn good one.” Braeburn gazed off in the direction of the wagon tracks and the multitude of pawprints. The wagon they had come looking for was gone and the source of the smoke had been investigated. The earth pony felt a keen sense of sadness welling up inside of him, though he could not say why. He had himself an intense dislike of diamond dogs, and pretty much anything that was a danger to ponies.

“Brae, we can’t let the town see this, there’ll be a panic and you know what happens when a bunch of stupid ninnies work themselves into a panic—”

“I know, Silverstar, I know… what do we do with these bodies? These heads?” Braeburn felt his gorge rising and his sides began to heave once more. “I ain’t never seen this much blood in my life. The ground is soggy with it! The trees are painted with it! I wouldn’t even know where to begin to clean this up!”

“Braeburn, we have an obligation to protect these ponies,” Silverstar said to his longtime friend. “It falls on us to pull ourselves together and somehow get this tidied up. Hopefully, whatever did this has moved on. Maybe it took the bitches and pups as its own and then went off into them there hills. I ain’t gonna go looking, and you ain’t either. We have ponies to protect.”

“Yeah, yer right, Silver. But how is we gonna clean this up?”

“I dunno, Brae, I dunno…”

A faint murmur of wordless worry escaped from Princess Celestia’s lips, revealing her current emotional state. Raven, hearing this sound, ceased what she had been doing, turned about, and focused upon her monarch, her eyes glimmering with concern. Seeing her most trusted assistant’s intense focus only somehow further upset the white alicorn, and she slumped over, succumbing to her own anxiety.

“Tea, now!” Raven’s barked command caused the lone junior-assistant present to go running off, lickity-split. The little unicorn mare, so tiny compared to her monarch, tossed down a stack of folders upon the nearby table, and then marched up to her princess’ side, ready to be of service. “What troubles you?” she asked, speaking more as a friend and less as an assistant.

“I fear the past has come back to haunt me, as the past is prone to do,” Princess Celestia replied. She heaved a heavy sigh, her wings flapped once against her sides, and she shook her head, a regal motion that made the muscles in her neck ripple like a flag in the wind.

Ears perked, eyes focused, Raven awaited whatever was to be said next.

“All these reports, Raven… so troubling. Especially the one from the sheriff’s department in Appleloosa. These reports follow a pattern, and when one examines the pattern, a line of carnage forms. A den of eye tyrants destroyed. The Wardens confirmed it. A local troll seems to have gone missing. A pony named Longhaul was rescued on the road by a diamond dog with a blazing green sword… yes Raven. My past has come back to haunt me.”

“Celestia?” Raven moved even closer, then halted when the white alicorn turned away.

“I had a friend once,” Princess Celestia began while she closed her eyes. “He wasn’t much of a friend, but he needed a friend so badly. There was once a draconequus named Limey, and he wasn’t like the others. He was small, weak, and almost powerless. He really wasn’t malicious, not like the others, but he was annoying. You see, he narrated. That was his magic, that is what he did. He had a way of getting inside of your head and narrating every mundane thing you did. I found it rather amusing…”

Her words trailed off and a pained expression crossed her face.

“The others of my kind, they abused him. They were cruel. They studied him and experimented on him and they justified this by saying that they needed to understand the enemy better. Limey was too weak and pathetic to be anything but annoying at best. He was no real threat. I tried to be his friend, and for this, I got in trouble. The elders found this behaviour alarming. I reached out to him with kindness, and I was punished. I tried to be generous, and I was punished. I suffered for possessing these traits, and that made them meaningful… I wonder…”

Again, her words trailed off, and she appeared to be lost in thought, or perhaps lost in the past.

“Limey was my friend, though he wasn’t much of a friend. But I tried. Morally, ethically, that made me better than my elders. They were cold, distant, too focused on just winning, not caring about what they cast aside for the sake of victory. Limey… the draconequus threat… the draconequus menace… I knew that this war couldn’t go on forever and that we might have to live with them someday. Cold callousness… heartlessness… it held a real danger to the future, and I was forming plans for the future even then.”

“Of course,” Raven said, almost whispering the words.

“Limey was awful to Luna and gave her fits, but truth be told, I was awful to Luna too. I think Limey was just going along with me, following my lead when I teased her and did what sisters do.” Celestia’s eyelids fluttered open, revealing two eyes that were as rosy as the dawn, and blazed with an inner fire no less intense. “One day, Limey had an idea. He had a brilliant idea to become a hero, to help with the war efforts. The little sneaker had stolen a spellbook from the enemy draconequus enclave and it was filled with the most wondrous magic. You must understand, Raven… I excelled at magic even then.”

The little unicorn mare nodded in acknowledgment, and waited for the princess to keep speaking.

“Limey wasn’t strong like the rest of his kind, but he had a potent spirit. His spirit held remarkable strength. It was his idea to become a sword, a spirit bound weapon. Being spirit bound would make him almost impossible to destroy as a sword, as a weapon. Of course, being young and headstrong, I eagerly engaged in forbidden magic, and we went to work. The magic was difficult, consuming, and dangerous. It was an odd fusion of magic, a new kind of magic, a fusion of harmonious matrices and chaotic variables. Somehow, I managed.”

Almost holding her breath, Raven waited for more of the story to come forth.

“I was in the middle of the most difficult part when I was discovered. When we were discovered. The elders came in and disrupted everything at the worst possible moment. Things began to go wrong… the magic began to spiral out of control. It wasn’t my fault.” Weepy eyed, Celestia blinked a few times before she could continue. “It wasn’t my fault… if they would have just let me complete what I had started, we would have had a powerful weapon for the war…

“But the elders, thinking they knew best, they began trying to undo the work that I had done, and even when I told them to stop, they didn’t listen. As they began trying to unravel the magics, Limey defended himself. He… I would very much like to believe it was an accident… he struck one of the elders. The blow opened up her throat. I couldn’t let all of my hard work be destroyed, and I couldn’t let them destroy my friend’s chance to be a hero.

“His power to self wield was stripped away or damaged, I don’t know. He cried, begged, and pleaded to be left alone, saying that he didn’t want to be a weakling draconequus again. The elders were heartless and they ripped him apart… all my hard work. Before he could be undone completely, I banished him with a powerful spell, and sent him away, I sent him out of reach of my elders. It was all I could do to save him. It was all I could do to save my friend. I sent him away and hoped that enough of him survived.”

“That’s awful.” Raven, her head now downcast, stared at the floor with misty eyes. “I’m sorry that you lost your friend.”

“I was punished, of course. No end of punishment awaited me, and all of it was more severe than you could ever imagine.” All emotion drained away from Celestia’s voice, and it became a dull deadpan, devoid of feeling. “I was punished later, too. Limey became a terrible weapon, a blade of absolute chaos. Those who held him were almost unstoppable. Limey is unbelievably dangerous, as far as weapons go, and even now, he rampages once more, and I am responsible.”

“What is to be done?” Raven asked while she lifted her head. A worried expression took over her face, and her eyes narrowed with concern. “How do we stop this?”

“Magic will not suffice,” Princess Celestia replied. “Limey makes his wielder incredibly magic resistant. Sending an army to stop him will only make him more powerful and I do not wish to hurt Shēdo. From my observations, she is a sweet creature, if somewhat troubled. She is confused, she is hurt, and she is lashing out. She is a puppy left in pain. It would grieve me to have to put her down.”

“Surely there is some plan to end this before it becomes a crisis.” Raven’s ears pricked and her hooves clicked against the tile floor as she began to prance in place, nervous and agitated.

Leaning forward, her face an alabaster mask that held no warmth, Princess Celestia shook her head from side to side. “This is not something that can be solved with violence. I do not wish my old friend harmed. If possible, I would like to try to heal him, if I can.”

“Will you go after him yourself?” Raven asked, looking quite surprised.

“No, Raven.” Eyes narrowing, Princess Celestia’s burning gaze focused on the tiny white mare before her. “Dispatch my agents and tell them to find the diamond dog known as Hachikō. I would hate for him to be cut down, but I trust in his reason and his gentle nature. He is filled with a powerful sense of goodness, and he is wise. Perhaps he can dissuade Shēdo from her rampage and can make her turn away from the path she has chosen. Perhaps he can pull her from the darkness she has entered.”

“This feels risky—”

“It is risky!” Princess Celestia’s voice was almost a thunderclap in the confines of the small room. “If Hachikō fails with diplomacy, his honour will no doubt cause him to draw his sword. If that happens… the outcome is uncertain.”

“I understand.” Raven bowed her head. “I will do this at once.”

“Oh, Raven…”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For listening to me while I poured out my heart.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“But I constantly think of it… of everything… that you do.”

“What are friends for?” Raven asked while she began to turn about. “I will dispatch your best field agents at once and I will keep you informed of any developments as they happen.”

Sighing, Princess Celestia slumped over a bit more, relaxing. “Indeed… what are friends for…”

Author's Note

:trollestia: - A very special thanks to Georg!