Werewolf Among Us

Several days had passed since the murder of the filly. A young stallion named Daffy Dill had awoken from his slumber in his cabin just outside of town, on the swamp. He stepped out of his cabin on the muddy grass, into heavy and humid air, swarms of flies hovering above the murky waters of the swamp. Daffy stretched his wings, his coat a soft yellow color. He was the only Pegasus in the village, the rest were Earth ponies aside from the doctor who was a unicorn.

Daffy had put his leather saddlebags on his back, and trotted into the nearby village of Ammyville to stock up on fishing supplies; fishing is his passion. Daffy is the new pony in town, he hadn't even lived there for a year. And everypony in the community made it exceptionally clear that he was unwelcome. Because of this, Daffy was unfazed that everypony was giving him looks as he trotted to the general store in the town square.

Daffy entered the store, the grumpy storeowner not even welcoming him. Daffy had filled his bags with fishing lines, bait, and various types of hooks and bobbers, and then noticed silver hooks. They had been there before, but this day, Daffy decided to try out the silver hooks as opposed to the iron hooks he buys normally. Daffy then made his way to the store counter.

The elderly clerk lazily looked over the supplies Daffy had picked out. "100 bits." He said with clear disapproval.

"What!?" Daffy said, throwing his hoof in the air. "Last month I bought the same supplies and it only cost me half as much!"

"Hmm..." The elderly clerk rubbed his chin with his hoof. "It's tax." The clerk said with a smug smile.

"Hmph." Daffy grunted, pulling a staggering 100 bits from his saddle bags and carelessly tossing them over the counter.

The clerk put on a devious smile. "Thank you for yer service young'un!"

Daffy simply rolled his eyes as he exited the store. This was strange behavior for the clerk, Daffy stops in there once, sometimes twice a month for supplies before returning to the swamps to continue fishing. The clerk, although weary, has always been an honest business man, very conscious of his prices, never ripping anybody off. Something strange was definitely going on. As Daffy trotted back through Ammyville to his cabin, The townsponies began looking at him and whispering amongst themselves, gossip, perhaps? Rumors? Did he do something wrong?

As Daffy approached his cabin, he noticed Sketched Hope in her red coat standing just outside his door. Her face lit up, and she was all too eager when she approached him.

"You must be Daffy Dill!" She said, putting on a light smile.

Daffy squinted, turning his head slightly to the side but keeping his eyes on her. "...Yeah?"

"I'm Sketched Hope!" She said, striking a super hero pose with her hoof in the air. "I'm a journalist for the Manehattan Times! I have some questions for you."

"Questions?" Daffy asked, setting his head straight. "For me? Why?"

"Did you hear a filly was torn to shreds in a barn a few nights ago?" Sketched said, almost eager to announce the fact.

Daffy was taken aback. "Really???" He stopped for a second, before squinting his eyes suspiciously. He then pointed at Sketched with his hoof. "Oh, I see how it is. You think I did it!"

Sketched put her hoof on her chest. "Whaaaat!?" She remarked snidely. "I would neeeever!" She then pulled out a pen and notepad. "Anyway!" She said, completely switching her demeanor to one of pride. "Where were you on the night of the murder?"

"Uh..." Daffy couldn't quite recall, "Fishing...?" He assumed, scratching his head.

"Yeah, okay." Sketched responded carelessly. "Can you prove that alibi?"

"Doesn't Ammyville already have a sheriff?" Daffy said in a accusatory tone.

"Ammyville's sheriff isn't doing his job properly, so I'm picking up the slack."

"Hmm." Daffy thought for a moment. "I'm not answering anymore of your questions. I don't have to prove anything to the likes of you."

Sketched sighed as she rolled her eyes. "Your lack of co-operation has been noted." She said while jotting it down on her notepad before putting it away. "All the townsponies have decided your guilt, they think you did it."

Daffy pointed at himself with his hoof. "Me!? Why!?"

"The witness at the crime scene said the murderer was werewolf, and you're an outsider, like me. That means they have decided you are the root of all their problems." Sketched stated before simply trotting back towards the village.

The sun was high in the sky, beaming down relentless heat onto the swamp. A house right on the edge of Ammyville. Empty alligator skins hang on a clothes line, gently swaying in the warm swamp breeze. A bloody bucket of decapitated chicken heads sat directly beside it. The butcher exits his home on his lunch break, his apron covered in animal blood. His name was Steely Dam.

Steely sat down by the swampside with his lunch, a sandwich, and a lit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Sketched Hope approached him, who reared his head towards her and simply made a disappointed face.

"Ahem," Sketched cleared her throat. "I am-"

"I know who ya are." Steely said, putting out his cigarette in the damp grass.

"Ah!" Sketched smiled and exclaimed "Frankly I'm getting tired of introducing myself, so it all works out!"

"Uh-huh." Steely said, turning his head back towards the swamp. He seemed exhausted.

"You must also know why I'm here then." Sketched said.

Steely Anticipated her line of questions. "Yes, I wuz home that night. No, I didn't know the victim personally. Yes, I'm sad about the loss. No, I don't know who did it." Steely looked back at Sketched. "Does that cover it?"

"...That just about does, yes." Sketched said with mixed feelings of offense and awe.

"Go on, then." Steely shooed Sketched away.

"Not quite!" Sketched exclaimed. "I have more questions!"

Steely simply sighed in response.

Sketched sat down beside Steely on the water's edge. "The rumor is that a werewolf is responsible, do you believe it?"

Steely looked Sketched in the eye. "All's I know is that some poor bastard is killin' innocent ponies. And that brings annoyin' city slickers like you to our private communities."

Sketched eyes widen, her face began to look frustrated and she looked at Steely. "Yeah, Okay. I see how it is."

"Can you let me sit in peace?" Steely groaned.

Sketched got up and trotted off to other parts of town, most likely to harass more bystanders. On the surface, Steely seemed exhausted and indifferent to the situation, but what nopony could have known is that deep down he felt a rage burning hotter than a thousand suns. The murder of not just a mare in her home, but now an innocent filly struck the community hard. And word of the murders travelled as far as Manehattan. Steely felt as though it was his personal duty to avenge his community, but he also knew the Sheriff was doing his best to do just that.