“My brother?”

“Dead. They needed two zebras to pull that knife out of him.”

Tavo nodded non-committedly, his eyes flitting over the ancient room laid out before him. Several zebras were swabbing away at the blood-stained floor with small pieces of cloth, working with more vigor than anybody had any right to, when it came to such tedious tasks.

He looked back at the pale unstriped zebra beside him. Kilind, the zebra’s name was, if he remembered correctly. “And the hoof?”

“Gone.” Kilind treaded carefully around the busy janitors, appraising the empty plinth before him. “Daring took it with her when she made her little raid.”

A shame, he thought. I would've liked that particular piece for my collection.

“And the knife? They said it was… special.”

Kilind nodded affirmingly before replying, “It’s made of a material I’ve never seen before.”

He snorted. “There’s a lot of things you haven’t seen.” You’ve no idea, fool. He paused. “I want to see it.”

“Tavo, I-”

“Spare me the precautionary tales; I know how to wield a knife.” He looked down at the zebras in front of him, still cleaning as diligently as before. “And get these zebras out of my sight; it’s making me sick just watching them.”

Kilind nodded ashamedly, running off to do his assigned tasks with the former floor scrubbers in tow, but not before leaving a quick, “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.” Flank Kisser, that one is. Tavo wasn’t a fan. Kilind wouldn’t be making it out of the ruin alive.

He stepped through the half-cleaned splotch of blood, eyeing the plinth in front of him. It appeared to be untouched by the zebras since the scene of his brother’s death. Those tribals and their ‘sanctity’. Always the messanic shit with them. They acted as if touching one of these old stones was going to unleash the wrath of Celestia upon them. To him, it was foolish. He’d barely been able to convince the tribals to allow him in the place, not that he needed their approval. It was simply nice to not have to go through the effort of killing all of them to get in.

He eyed the blood now adorning his hoof. His brother had it coming, thinking he could just go wherever he pleased. His brother was not him; he did what he wanted, when he wanted to do it.

“Here, the knife you wanted.”

Tavo turned around, taking the knife from Kilind’s grasp. His eyes widened imperceptibly. Laser-cut carbon steel. He checked the handle and sure enough, stenciled into the paracord wrap was exactly what he suspected: Misriah Armories.

He reached a hoof into his own cloak, procuring a similar blade. The only difference between the two was the slightly faded M.M on his own blade. He twirled it around in his grasp. This was good. This was very good.

A grumble. “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but the knife isn’t the only thing I brought.” Tavo watched as Kilind motioned with a hoof, guiding a short, stout zebra out from behind him. “This boy was with your brother’s crew and he says he knows who the knife belongs to.”

The zebra sat there for a moment, a lost look on his face, before he recovered, looking Tavo right in the eyes. “It was a tall, minotaur thing.” Then his face drained and he added a quick, “Sir.”

Tavo chuckled. Cute. “No need for the pleasantries. Tell me, what’s your name, boy?”

“Farhja.” No sir. He learns quickly.

“Well, Farhja…” Tavo rolled the name around his tongue as he eyed the zebra in front of him. “I have a proposition for you. I want you take this knife - “ He extended a hoof out, the knife with it “ - and return it to its owner. Tell them that they have... friends that are willing to lend them hoof. Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t even know where they-” Farhja paused. “I can do that.”

Tavo smiled. “I knew you could - you better get started, make what progress you can before sundown.”

Farhja’s eyes widened, before he took off hurriedly down the collapsed hallway that headed the atrium.

Today was business as usual for Avery J. Johnson.

His legs pumped powerfully, the foliage violently yielding to him and disappearing underfoot. How fast the tables had turned. A quick glance downwards confirmed that his half-conscious travel buddy was still in his grasp. Ironic, considering that had been him not but two days earlier.

He heard the approaching galloping of many sets of hooves behind him. It was hard to tell the exact amount when there were four legs to take account of instead of two. All he knew was that there were a fuckton of them, and they were hot on his ass. He wasn’t slow by any means - he was almost as fast as they were, but the striped mini-horses had enough on him that only his significantly better stamina and agility had pulled him through. So far.

And it's all your damn fault, Brownie, he thought.

And it was true. Earlier, that morning, they had arrived at some kind of village, filled to the brim with mini-zebras. She had gone to talk with their chieftain or whatever, leaving him several dozen paces back. After a while of heated discussion, they had bum-rushed her for whatever reason, forcing him to save the day once again - Sergeant Johnson didn't leave ladies in distress, regardless of species. He would have happily taken them all on but he only had so many boots to shove up equine asses, with his hands being tied up and all.

I better get some Brownie points for this one… Nah, that shit was terrible. Looks like Private Jackass rubbed off on me.

He looked behind him and sighed. It was going to be a long ass day. Next opportunity he had to send a postcard back home, he was gonna tell them to trade's theirs for a ticket to hell, because heaven was a damn joke.

Author's Note

jesus I'm so tired. This chapter prob has ton of mistakes sorry, just comment and I'll fix them.

also, if someone guesses what M.M stands for I give them free access to docs when I'm working on story.

GOODNIGHT

Edit: I'll be revising this chapter, this is what you get when I decide it's good to write a chapter at one in the morning.