Redemption's Edge
by S.S. Firefly
Prologue:
Three years ago on a dark foggy night in a remote corner of Canterlot, a shadowy figure appears. Quietly, cautiously the figure cocks his head to one side as he monitors the voices in the distance. One voice stands out in particular. “Stringhalt,” he murmurs.
Startled by his own voice, Vanner, a member of the Royal Guard, checks himself and regains his composure. Several minutes pass by before the voices recede into the night. Leaning out to chance a look Vanner sees no one. Drawing his large frame down into a fraction of the space his mass would normally fill he skulks out of his hiding place into a nearby stand of trees.
Half of an acre away was the forest and his escape.
She always wanted to learn magic at Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, but not for the usual reasons. She had wanted to live in Equestria ever since she had seen the musical “West Stride Story”. It was the land of opportunity and she was tired of living hoof to muzzle. Daisy “Lucky” Cutter had been willing to do anything to get a chance to pull the brass ring. It just so happened that Equestria was looking outside their kingdom for talent. The prize was not what she bargained for.
After packing all night the young mare sits on her bed and takes a bite of an apple. Gazing out of a window, watching the sunrise she spies a document on her bed and picks it up. It reads:
Dear Miss Cutter
I am very sorry to inform you that it is not possible to offer you admission to the class. I wish I were writing to report a different decision, but the competition was so rigorous this year that there were many outstanding young ponies to whom we could not offer places in the class. However, we very much appreciate the interest you have shown and would like to offer you a position as a research assistant.
If you are interested please contact us and we will arrange for your transport.
Sincerely,
Doctor Alexandrite Sunstone
One year ago...
She sat staring out a window partly iced over by the wrath of an irritated goddess. With her hoof she traces patterns on the glass and shivers. "Cold!" She moans and covers her face. She laments the dark hearth behind her which refuses to give her the warmth and light she desperately longs for. "I hate winter!!!" She finally roars, "when is it going to be spring, again?"
The door to the little shack is suddenly thrown open, letting in icy fingers of wind that claw and rake at everything as if trying to grip onto something for staying power. Along with the cold a large figure staggers through the portal, wrapped in layer upon layer of winter clothing.
"I hope the pony that ticked off the Windigos is stuck in a giant popsicle somewhere,” she shouts at the newcomer. He stares at her for a moment, nonplussed, before refocussing his attention on prying the grip of winter off and closing the door, which was pressed rather helplessly against the wall. "Did you find any wood?" Pushing against the door heavily he manages to force nature's retreat and then begins the slow, tedious process of unwrapping the numerous scarves from around his muzzle, and dropping them on the floor near a coat hook. Daisy turns to observe the figure and starts tapping her hooves impatiently. "Well?"
“If I hadn't I wouldn't be back.” Vanner replies irritably.
Turning around to look at her, his blue eyes as icy as the weather outside, Vanner continues to peel off his outermost garments. These too, he drops next to the scarves lying on the floor with a loud thud.
"Not there,” shouts the mare, “I just cleaned that spot up from the last time you got wood!”
The stallion, looking up at her momentarily, returns unperturbed to his task and begins to pull a tiny log out of a cloth with his teeth.
"That's all there is to do around this shack, you know, until that blizzard blows over. Clean, and sit and starve and stare out this window,” she continued, “and just what the hay is that? Is that all you brought? That looks like something I'd use to play fetch with my dog!"
“You're welcome to look for more.” He says walking over to the hearth and dropping the small piece of timber in. “Just be sure that you don't drop dead from hypothermia in the first twenty-two seconds. I need at least a full minute to catch up on some sleep.”
“Look, are you trying to goad me? Do you think that will persuade me to listen to that death wish scheme you have designs on executing in Canterlot?”
“You brought it up, and you do want me to take you there don't you?”
“Yes, but not as an assassin's assistant!”
“At least that's something. What is it you're suppose to be doing here, again? Testing to see which tree saps make the best sugar cubes?”
“Ringsour.”
“Why are you really here, Daisy? I haven't seen you doing anything remotely scientific unless you are studying the effects of whining on members of the Royal Guard.”
“Huh, that can't be right can it, because when I last looked there weren't any of those here!” As she says this Daisy picks up a nearby book and lobs it with a defiant snort. Vanner reflexively dodges the attack and laughs at the attempt. “Whoa, there 'Lucky' is it? I think that name is a rather feeble attempt at irony.”
“How did you.. . “
“. . .Know your super secret code name?” Vanner nods over at the spot where the small book lies open. “You left it out last night after you went to sleep. It was already open, fair game and I was bored.” Vanner waits for a reaction but none comes. Daisy 'Lucky” Cutter stands stone faced, staring in the direction of the book. Vanner speaks again, this time without venom, soothingly even, “Lucky, I know you came to Equestria and I know this,” he gestures around him, “is not what you expected. I am, really am, in a position to change this for you when I get back to where I belong. I just need a little help. A little unicorn help.”
Lucky is suddenly released from her insensibility and eyes him. “Yes, you have told me several times about how you are a big shot in Canterlot. Betrayed by your best friend was it? Framed for murder and a fugitive from justice? Oh, yes, yes I'm sure you can help me.” Vanner sits near the hearth and begins piling kindling on the stones. “Well, then why don't you accept one of the many other offers you have been receiving.” He glances at her through his peripheral vision and sees her expression change. She drops her head and sits down on the floor defeated. “All right,“ she breathes, “Let's get out of here.”
