Not Just Ponies: Hawk Mountain Halloween
“This is what humans do for Nightmare Night?” Granch idly raised one furred lion-paw and pointed a claw at the leering devil face hanging beside the cackling green-skinned witch on the Conversion Clinic's wall. “Hang up pictures of human Tirek and Chrysalis?”
“No,” Bram hung up a grinning ghost beside the first two. Some of the clinic's equine staff were watching and whickering in clear amusement. Behind them hung pony decorations, mostly of a menacing fanged black-coated demon alicorn with catlike green eyes. One of the non-equines, Mewsette the Abyssinian, swayed over in highly distracting fashion. Bram swallowed and said, “Well, yes, partly. These are decorations for Halloween. It's a human holiday and has been for decades.”
“I know,” Mewsette purred out. She lightly swatted Granch with her long tail. “It's in those memos we're supposed to read, remember? The ones about human customs and culture? We might as well know about them as long as they're still here – oh, sorry, Bram.” She set her hand on his shoulder. He felt the prickle of her claws. “I should have thought.”
“It's alright, Mewsette,” Bram gave her hand a squeeze. Beyond her Granch looked annoyed, his feathery crest rising slightly. “If you like, you can help me here.”
“Gladly.” She smiled at him and the temperature of the room seemed to rise a few degrees. She picked up a wall hanging of a grinning skull. “Just show me where to put these.” Mewsette wore as much as her people usually did, a belt with short skirt that barely reached below her hips and with a vest over it, pockets filled with pens and a smartphone. Her breasts swung free under it. When she noticed Bram's glance she grinned and gave a little shake. Bram gulped and turned back to his box of decorations. He wished Abyssinians didn't have such humanlike forms for Equestrians. Or at least didn't share ponykind's cheerily oblivious attitudes about public nudity. He knew from reading about the races beyond the Veil that Abyssinians flirted as a 'social lubricant', like insults from griffons or the at time intrusive friendliness of ponies. It wasn't a problem for them because they could pick up on scent cues that showed the difference between real sexual interest and simple amusement. Humans weren't so lucky. He wondered if Mewsette knew the effect she had on human males.
Mewsette just gave another inviting smile as she leaned against the wall to hang the skull up high, pressing herself against it. Bram quickly looked away. Where was Cynthia anyway? His dragon roommate was supposed to be here by now along with Tephra. Bram felt only relief when Granch spoke up and gave him something else to concentrate on.
“So, what, this is like the ponies and Nightmare Night?” Granch lashed his leonine tail at the ebony demon horse art behind him. “Everyone puts up scary decorations,” he made air quotes with his claws around 'scary', “the pony griflets put on silly outfits and try getting candy from ya or they'll soap your windows or put wet toilet paper over your nest, and everyone puts on some goofy costume an' goes to parties and plays dumb games?” The corners of his beak turned up in a smile, somehow. Bram recalled reading that at least a dozen human scientists had gone mad trying to figure out things like that and how ponies could grasp with hooves. “Sounds like Nightmare Night ta me.”
“Well, it isn't,” Bram snapped back, feeling nettled. Griffons were good at that. Granch's smug smile showed he knew it. “It's a lot older, centuries, maybe millennia old in one form or another. It used to be the start of winter in the Dutch country. The season ran through to the last of April, Walpurgis Night. Everyone got together for parties to celebrate the harvest and to pretend they didn't fear ghosts and whatever else they thought might be out there in the dark as the nights got longer and colder.”
“Like I said,” Granch shrugged as he said in a wickedly snarky tone, “Halloween is so Pony. Just like most humans.”
“Granch,” Mewsette purred out. “Be nice.” She swayed in close to Bram, soft and warm. Granch rumbled low and angry in his throat. His claws scraped, suddenly popping against the tiled floor. Mewsette's smile widened. Her arm slipped around Bram's waist to a chorus of amused pony whickers. Her voice became an even warmer purr. “Or I'll have to apologize to Bram and comfort him. The poor dear.”
He jumped as the door of the clinic slammed open behind him, followed by the click-click-click of claws on the floor.
“Bram!” Cynthia's voice filled the room as only a dragon's could. He relaxed and turned to see her grinning, baring fearsome draconic fangs, She held up a piece of paper in one black-and-gold scaled claw. “I got the permission from the Hawk Mountain people. We can take the kids up there in a couple of nights to Schaumboch's Inn.” She fell silent at the sight of Mewsette's arm around him. A thin trickle of smoke came from her nostrils as she asked icily, “Mewsette, you sure your arm belongs there?”
Mewsette shrugged and removed it, walking back to her shared desk with Nightshade. The ash-grey Thestral was busily typing away on her computer with both hooves. It looked like she just mashed them against the keyboard but Bram knew from experience that she was a better typist than he was. “Oh, Cynthia, can't I have any fun around here? I can't even tease people without you and Granch getting angry.” She sighed dramatically, tossed her long mane of hair over her shoulder with one claw, and sank into her seat the way Gypsy Rose Lee used to swing from a pole. Bram's sudden sweat turned cold when he noticed how both Granch and Cynthia glared. Mewsette smirked and tipped Nightshade a wink. Nightshade grinned and it got worse. The elegant bat-pony fluttered her eyelashes at Bram. No. Not her too! When did I get so popular with nonhuman women, and why?
“So!” Bram said loudly, very loudly. He nodded at the permission slip in Cynthia's claw. “Hawk Mountain's okay with us bringing the kids up there? You have a driver for the bus, and they know to meet here, and everything?”
Cynthia shot one last annoyed look at the Thestral and Abyssinian as they returned to their secretarial duties. She looked at the paper. “Yes. Everyone knows, meet here about three, dinner is at the Inn. There's going to be about twenty kids.”
“And some parents, I hope,” Bram interrupted. He shuddered at the memories of similar trips in the past. “Or do they expect the two of us to control twenty hyper children of several species?”
“No, they don't,” Cynthia's shudder was very real. Even her tail-tip shook. “It's not going to be like that time at the school.” Bram remembered. She and Tephra went to a local school with several other members of the clinic staff in a Q-and-A session; it was one of the more common duties Conversion clinic staff was asked for. It ended with them dragging a seething Tephra away from several obnoxious children who probably had no idea how close they'd come to experiencing dragonfire first hand. Cynthia coughed. “Anyway! We go to Schaumboch's Inn, you tell some ghost stories, we spend the night and drive back early the next morning.”
“Hopefully with everyone's heads still attached,” Bram set up one last Halloween decoration, an old plastic stand-up figure of a ghost toting a pumpkin. He plugged it in and the light inside flickered fitfully. He stepped aside with a ta-da gesture to show his handiwork to everyone.
“Vell, I feel good and scared,” Nightshade said in a bored voice with her Trotsylvanian accent. “Sorry, Bram, but I vas hoping for something a little more grisly.” She tapped her keyboard and motioned for him and Cynthia to come over. They did. Bram gagged at the sight of the Halloween decorations she pointed at. They looked like effects from a slasher movie.
“Those would scare kids to death, not to mention any ponies!”
“How vell do you t'ink you know ponies? Ve haff faced real monsters.” Nightshade looked at him and smiled, revealing a set of Thestral fangs nearly as impressive as Mewsette's or Cynthia's. “Or children? I haff seen vhat human foals draw and look at in movies.”
“She's kind of right, Bram,” Cynthia chimed in. “Kids love creepy stuff for Halloween. I did. Didn't you? And Halloween decorations are more ornate than ever this year, what with --” She broke off. Everyone went silent for a moment and half turned away from Bram, the sole human in the room. No need to continue. What with the impending extinction of all humanity in a few years unless they transform.
“What were ya talking about, 'with everyone's heads still attached'?” Granch snatched one of the papers in Bram's hand to look at.
“Because of Killer Schaumboch's ghost,” Bram shrugged.
“Who?”
“Oh,” Bram walked back to the now-empty box of decorations, “you don't want to know. Unscary human Halloween stuff, remember?” The sound of typing stopped behind him. Granch's claws scraped against the floor. Bram smiled. He could feel the sudden interest in the room. “Just an innkeeper who murdered over a dozen men with an axe, stuck their skulls in a covered well, and served their flesh up to his patrons.” Mewsette or maybe Nightshade hissed low and fearfully. “Nothing to frighten any of you, of course.”
“Maybe,” Cynthia emphasized. “There's very little evidence he actually did any of those things.”
“Okay, according to legend, he did that,” Bram turned to face her and the rest of them. He deepened his voice walked closer to them as he spoke, looming over all of them but Cynthia. “Like it's legend about the screams of his victims coming down the mountain, or how he still tromps around his old inn after dark, axe in hand, looking for someone, anyone, to kill.”
A frightened inhalation rippled around the room before Nightshade spoke.
“Vait, vasn't that the story from your movie about the miner killing people on Hearts and Hooves – I mean, Val-en-tine's Day?” Nightshade turned back to her desktop computer and tapped a few more keys. Bram and Cynthia both looked and saw a photo of a gas mask wearing miner with a bloody pickaxe.
“Should we be worried that you can so easily find all the most gruesome horror movies and decorations at a moment's notice?” Cynthia pointed at her elegant clothes, all leather and velvet. “I thought you were more of a Gothic sort myself. You remind me a lot of that one unicorn with the purple mane and tail, what's her name, Unique?”
“Rarity,” Bram interjected. “The Element Bearer of Generosity. One of them, anyway.”
Cynthia frowned at his readiness to explain while Nightshade hopped to her hooves. “Hah! He iss right. Miss Rarity is a wonderful mare. She vas one of the vuns who came with Luna to tell us Thestrals we could come back out into the sun and open skies a few years ago.” Her eyes focused on him, long lashes fluttering. “Bram, at least, reads the paperwork I put so much effort into transcribing.”
“Translating, actually,” Bram said as he stepped back away from her desk. The office was returning to its usual level of activity. “Cynthia, wasn't Tephra with you when you got those papers?”
“No, he got a message from Volcano,” she shrugged. “It was a scroll in Draconic, got delivered by Lancer. He took off in a hurry, said it was very important.” Cynthia looked out the glass front doors of the clinic. His gaze followed hers to see a large scaly red-streaked gray form dropping down before them. “Here he is now. Tephra!” He hurried in with a determined look on his face. A few hellos greeted the dragon but he ignored them. His tail was lashing and smoke steadily puffed from his nostrils in anger. Bram frowned; this wasn't like him. He tried to take Cynthia's arm. She ignored him, walking up to the big male dragon. “Tephra, we're still on for Friday night, right? With the children and –”
“Cynthia.” His voice was clipped. Bram could feel the anger riding under his self-control. “We have to go and talk. Right now. With my elder brother. It's important.” Cynthia opened her mouth to speak. Tephra simply snapped, “Now!”
Cynthia's head jerked back a little on her long neck as her eyes widened. She looked at Bram, Her wide eyes showed the confusion he felt. When she didn't move Tephra showed fang and added a sudden sharp hiss. It wasn't a word, but Bram recognized a command when he heard it.
“Tephra,” he stepped forward to look his friend in the eye. He stopped as the dragon turned and snarled. Those fangs looked like knives. The chatter in the office immediately fell still. Some of the ponies began sidling nervously, as though seeking the door. Other ponies, along with Granch and Mewsette, stepped closer.
“Not now!” Tephra turned towards Cynthia and froze. Bram saw his gaze catch the small TV in the office that was usually set to one or another 24-hour cable news channel. It was showing more about the dragon-led Cartel attack on that small Mexican town south of Nogales, just over the Arizona border. It'd been filling all the news shows for the past week, a full adult dragon bigger even than Volcano aiding a cartel's attacks on towns on both sides of the American-Mexican border. Tephra's eyes blazed. With a visible effort he calmed himself.
“Bram,” he said, his voice thickened with anger. “All of you. I apologize. But this is something for dragons only, and the sooner we get it done the better.” Cynthia's mouth was open to speak but Tephra cut her off. “We need you there, you and all the local New Whelps capable of flight.”
“Just 'where', exactly?” Cynthia asked.
“Follow me,” Tephra headed outside. A few weeks ago locals would have either gaped or started snapping photos. Now they simply made sure to give him room as he unfurled his wings for takeoff. “I'll show you where.”
Cynthia looked at him, flexing her claws nervously. “Bram. This is something big, whatever it is. I, I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?” She smiled but he saw the mixed nervousness and curiosity in her eyes. “Hey, we're still on for Friday, right?”
“You bet,” Bram called after her as she followed Tephra outside. Both dragons crouched, wings spread wide, and leaped skywards. Leathery wings beat heavily at the chill late October air. Bram hurried in time to see several pegasi, one in an Allentown PD uniform, scatter from their path as they flew up, circling to what looked like a few hundred feet. That was low enough for safe flying without having to worry about airplanes or wear transponders. They both vanished northwards. To the Poconos?
“Vy they go there?” Nightshade said as he wondered that aloud. “Vhat is in your Poconos?”
“Maybe Volcano got in debt at one of the casinos and needs to get bailed out,” Nightshade gave a short whicker. Bram followed her back inside. “Whatever it is, I should know by tomorrow. Hopefully it won't be too long; I need to help Cynthia with her Halloween costume.”
“If she's still comin',” Granch said as he returned to his own duties.
“She will,” Bram said as he got back to work. “I mean, she has to, right?”
#
“What do you mean, 'not coming'?” One day later, Bram shook his head in confusion over Cynthia's words. Most of the clinic were carefully avoiding the small knot of dragons and predators. Bram sank into a nearby chair. He repeated himself. “Not coming?”
“Just what I said,” Cynthia shook her head. She stood with Granch and Mewsette and Nightshade. Bram found them all together and having a hushed conversation when he'd entered. Tephra stood behind her in his armor. It gleamed dully in the sunlight, hand-forged by Tephra himself back in the Dragonlands. The sole modern touch was the dim flashing light on the required-by-fliers transponder on his chestplate. Cynthia's own showed on the simple vest she wore. “I can't be there for the Hawk Mountain trip. I,” she glanced at Tephra. His eyes flared up like a last gasp of a dimming fire. She looked back at Bram, her crest partly lowered and looking subdued. “It's important.”
“Okay,” Bram said, hoping he didn't show how worried he felt. “What is it that's so important?” He nodded at Tephra. “Why does he need to be wearing his armor. It's not another lawsuit, is it?”
“Not that,” both hurriedly said. Cynthia opened her muzzle, looked at Tephra. He nodded at her to continue. Her tail lashing in unease, she said, “You remember that Mexico thing? With the big adult dragon leading attacks on towns on both sides of the border?”
“How'd that overgrown flamethrower even get through the Veil from Equestria without anyone noticing?” Granch grumbled. Tephra gave a rumbling grunt like an angry crocodile. Granch ignored him.
Cynthia said, “That's something we're trying to find out. Volcano got all the local dragons who can fly together. Trueborn and New Whelp, Lancer and Napalm and myself and all the rest. We're going there to,” Granch hissed and she caught herself, “to help, with the whole mess. Humanitarian aid.” She laughed. Bram wondered if she sounded nervous. “Or whatever it is when dragons do it.”
“Best aid ya could give would be ta stop big smoky from killin' people,” Granch pointed a claw at the TV screen. A cable news show was on with the aftermath of one of the attacks. Buildings smoked and burned as men both in and out of uniforms stumbled through the wreckage bearing medical supplies. The camera tried to avoid the bodies and barely succeeded. Bram heard the dismayed noises of multiple species go through the room. “How many human towns did he burn down by now?”
“Something will be done about it,” Tephra snapped back, his tail slapping against the floor in emphasis. Granch's eyeroll showed what he thought of that promise. Tephra all but hissed out, “The human governments involved and Equestria asked us not to interfere. If they were wiser we could deal with our lawless kin very quickly. But since they apparently feel no concern for their own kind?” He shrugged human fashion before heading for the door. “Cynthia, we must be going. The hired pony airship will be arriving at the airport soon. Unless you want to fly with your own wings the whole way?” He walked to the door.
“I'll be there in a moment,” Cynthia called. She turned back to Bram. “I'm sorry. But this is really important. We need to show everyone that dragons will help when one of their own does wrong. You understand?” Bram nodded. What else could he do? Cynthia grinned, gave him a quick hug and a nuzzle against his cheek. “I'll be back as soon as I can. Anyway, I asked Granch, Mewsette, and Nightshade to help with the trip and the kids, they said yes.”
“I'm thrilled,” Granch said in a bored voice. “But somegriff has ta help keep an eye on the human an' keep him outta trouble.” Nightshade tossed her head in eager agreement.
“Ve'll keep an eye on Bram. Cynthia,” she almost purred the words out. “You help vit the dragons.” She walked around Bram, fluttering her long eyelashes at him. “Ve vill make sure he doesn't get lonely.” Cynthia frowned but nodded.
“Or overwhelmed by a buncha kids,” Granch gave a short sharp laugh. He turned and said to several disbelieving ponies, “Hey, you never had ta give any presentations at these human schools. Standin' in front of two or three hundred yelling, cursing, junk tossing, jeering human fledglings?” He smiled. ”It feels just like back in Griffonstone.”
“Anyway,” Cynthia walked out the door, “like I said, I'll see you all in a week or so. Maybe less if everything goes well and we,” she broke off at Tephra's growl, “if we can provide the right kind of help. Bye!” Neither dragon said anything more. Both leaped into the air, wings beating heavily for altitude. Warm sulfur-scented air washed down from them. They shrank into the clear sky, circling tightly to clear the buildings. As soon as they flew high enough they vanished eastwards towards Lehigh Valley International Aiport.
Bram looked after them for several minutes, missing them both. It felt odd to think that when until a few months ago he'd been happy to be living alone.
“Don't worry,” Mewsette said, patting him on the back. “Hey, they'll be fine. They're dragons, right? What can hurt them?”
Bram nodded but as he walked back inside he caught a glance of the cable news. They were showing Mexican and US army troops assembling with grenade launchers and some of the biggest rifles he'd ever seen. He shook his head to put it out of his mind. He'd promised Cynthia he would show the kids a good time, and he meant to.
Besides, these were going to be children. And he'd have help. It couldn't get that bad, could it?
#
The next two days flew by as Bram got all the final preparations done. He felt thankful that it kept him too busy for worry. Everything from making sure of the driver, a genial old still-human Dutchman, to putting together a set of faux-19th century clothes for himself to match the tone of the Schaumboch story and boning up on the local legends to creep the kids out with. His one worry had been what to do for treats. Unlike Philadelphia and other big cities, the Lehigh Valley had yet to open any species-specific groceries. He knew some basics, like no chocolate for carnivores. And dragons could eat practically anything. But he still wanted to make sure he wouldn't poison anyone. He suspected that would go down poorly with the clinic staff.
“Don't vorry,” Nightshade told him at the clinic when he broached the question. She handed some papers over. “Dat is the basic guidelines for New Foals and the rest. It vill tell you vhat is and is not safe.”
Bram looked at the list. “What! Newfoals should avoid tomatoes, garlic, meat, dairy and bread products... But I've seen you eat meat and drink milk.” He looked at her as Nightshade finished off a cupcake with one gulp, fangs flashing. “And I think ponies live on sweets.”
“Vell, yes,” Nightshade responded with a grin. She licked her lips as she did, slowly. Bram colored. Only this mare could make eating a cupcake look lascivious. “But dey are Equestrian s'veets, brought here. Your local vuns don't,” she frowned, “taste quite right. Scholars say there is some difference between Equestrian chocolate and this vorld's. Other foods too. It von't make us sick, but it tastes, vell, not as good as home. Because not made or grown by Earth ponies.” She shrugged prettily, a ripple running along her leathery wings. “Maybe ven Princess Celestia and Luna makes the worlds, they don't like your Earth as much as Equis.”
“That should have been obvious to everyone,” a Trueborn unicorn nearby said with a mocking laugh. Bram coolly ignored him. The pony was a stranger. The unicorn snorted and walked up to Bram. “As for you, human, my oldest colt Superior Spell will be on this 'expedition' of yours. So be careful with him!” He pawed a forehoof against the floor. “Understood?”
“I'll take care of him as if he were you,” Bram nodded. The stallion gave him one final look of the I'll-be-watching-you variety and went back to the conversion rooms proper, rehearsing his speech as he went. “So, sir-or-madam, you have the good sense to become not just a pony but a unicorn, the true masters of Equestrian magic? Allow me to congratulate you on your perspicacity, and I...” He thankfully closed the door behind him.
Bram looked at Nightshade. Unlike most of the other ponies, she didn't give him a strained smile of apology. She simply said, “I think he's a, vat is that word, an 'ass' too.”
“He's part of the new staff?” Nightshade nodded. Bram sank down in Mewsette's chair, she being out right now.“What did you do to deserve this charmer?”
“Ask Ms, Apple,” Nightshade went back to her paperwork. “He vas originally out on your Left Coast...”
“West Coast, though I've heard humans use that phrase too,” Bram told her. “He saw the Veil come in?”
Nightshade flicked her ears, visibly caught herself, and nodded. “Yes. He is vun of the ponies that think the post-transformation therapy is a vaste of time if ve vish to save all the humans.” She looked uncomfortable. “It, ve vere still learning how to deal with the different human herds on the coast. Ve weren't done when the Veil came, and, well?” She lowered her eyes and pinned her ears back. She looked haunted. From what Bram read about the Veil's arrival on California and Mexico's Pacific coast he didn't blame her. The Veil made landfall weeks before expected. A last-minute panic hit that the Equestrians had only barely controlled. “It made for some trouble here and back in Equestria. Anyvay!” She looked at him and smiled. “No more sad speakings! I am making myself ready for the trip, and,” she laughed, “you think that human ghosts and goblins are scary?” Nightshade gave a wink. “Vait and see vhat I vill be going as!”
”I'll do everything I can to make them scary,” Bram thought back on the old local stories he'd been reading up on, ghosts and monsters and murder. “It's Halloween. Everyone deserves one good scare to go with the treats. So,” curiosity bit at him, “what will your costume be?”
At that Nightshade just laughed and shook her head no, telling him to be patient and wait. So he had, and here was the bus and driver and the most mingled pack of children he'd ever seen and him with his costume and what he hoped would be good treats that wouldn't poison anyone.
Granch and Mewsette were there too. To his relief Mewsette wore something only slightly daring, a fur-trimmed low-cut red dress that clung to her curves. She'd also dyed her coat black, a proper cat-witch for Halloween. He doubted the Equestrian kids would have noticed some skin, or fur, but the parents of any converts and still-human children might not be so forgiving.
“At least we can't be accused of corrupting the morals of minors,” Bram said as Mewsette offered him her paw with a look of regal condescension. He bowed over it and lightly kissed her. “M'lady, you look ravishing. Whoever you're supposed to be.”
“Bram, you say you read Equestrian history, and you don't know about Katrina the Mad Abyssinian Witch?” She purred amusement. It made her form shiver in a truly delightful way. “She's a big villain in old pony histories, back when they lived in just this one valley. Of course they say they reformed her and made friends, but they would.”
Bram turned to Granch beside her. He wore some tattered and torn leather and metal armor that looked vaguely Scythian to Bram – so many correlations between human and Equestrian cultures – along with a golden crown. “And you are?”
“Annoyed,” Granch said with a clack of his beak. Mewsette gave him an admonitory claw-swat along his back. Granch shook his head. “Fine. I'm the last Griffon King until the ponies told us that hen Gilda oughta be queen.” He leaped to his hind legs. “King Guto at your service, that is,” he shook himself, setting the broken armor to rattling. “King Guto after the dweeb lost his fight against Arimaspi. Dunno why we remember him when he lost everything Griffonstone valued.”
“That statue?” Bram racked his memory. Ponies didn't know much about griffon history to go by the translated Equestrian books he'd read. “The Idol of Boreas?”
“I said something we valued,” Granch's voice dripped contempt. He scratched his beak. “He lost all our bits tryin' ta get the Idol of Boreas back.”
By this point the families had arrived. There were about twenty kids ranging from two bright blue Changeling nymphs, grade-school age or the equivalent, buzzing over their father's back, his green carapace and horn shining in the mid afternoon light, through humans and pony fillies and colts to a furred and feathery griflet with a surly look. There was even a pale green dragoness too young for wings yet, wearing a short skirt and open-toed boots.
She noticed his attention. “New Whelp, twenty-four years old,” she said, sounding bored at what must have been the millionth explanation. She pointed at a still-human twelve-year-old girl nearby with a dragon picture on her shirt. “Here with my little sister. Okay?” Her slit-pupil eyes narrowed in an obvious 'got a problem with that'?
“Okay,” Bram said, feeling relief to see no one wearing any costume too ornate or delicate for the day. The trip to Schaumboch's Tavern was mostly via the bus, but with a short hike. He didn't want to deal with a child or parent made furious over a ruined costume. He did notice that the still-human kids and children of families who'd decided to all transform at once were mostly on a fantasy theme, using ideas taken from the multitude of books and comics and films made about Equestria and its denizens in the past few years. The Trueborns on the other hand were dressed as things like astronauts or movie monsters or anything else new to Equestria.
Anyway. Bram smiled and clapped his hands to get their attention.
“Greetings, everyone,” Bram called over the noise of the crowd. They settled down save for two teens, a unicorn and a pegasus. Bram remembered that new unicorn at the office and his warning about his son. This must be him. He cleared his throat and they gave him sly looks that boded no good. The silver-coated unicorn colt wore a golden collar that looked vaguely royal, and the pegasus mare wore nothing at all. Her dawn-crimson mane and tail along with a coat the pink of the setting sun, together with large wings, made her a looker by pony standards. Her smug look said she knew it too. “Just to be sure, you all know this trip will be late, right? Food and drinks served at Schaumboch's, and nobody to go wandering off in the woods?” There was a chorus of yes's, some more enthusiastic than others. He pointed at the bus. “Okay, soon as everyone takes a seat we'll get going and the stories will start.”
“Yay, ghost stories!” Some of the kids immediately cheered. At the rear of the crowd the unicorn colt rolled his eyes and gave a snort of contempt. The pegasus beside him, turning to reveal her cutie mark of heart prints done like hoofmarks on her rump, giggled.
One of the Changeling nymphs asked eagerly, “Will they be nice scary stories, with lots of ghosts and murder and blood in them?” His brother looked just as eager.
“Children!” Both cringed a little as their father said, “No matter what you heard back in the hive from Pharynx, those aren't good things to talk about! We Changelings used to be like that but we're different now.” He looked at Bram and said, almost desperate, “We are, really.”
“Yeah,” the colt pushed past both the Changeling and Bram, roughly shouldering them both aside. The Changeling cringed as he said, “Now you need ponies to defend you when you used to just feed on us.” Several of the other kids and parents also looked either embarrassed or angered at his words.
“I'm sorry, sir,” Bram said to the older Changeling.”Believe me, no one here is going to bring that up again. As for you two,” Bram leaned over the nymphs and gave a wink, “The stories will have ghosts, and some very gruesome murders in them. I promise they'll be good and scary.”
“Yay!” The nymphs clapped their claws and went on board, the elder Changeling following with a weak, “I hope not too scary.” Bram looked over the rest of the crowd and relaxed to see a clinic unicorn among them. He was wearing what looked like a classic wizard's outfit, complete with long beard. He gave Bram a smile and wink as he got on. Bram had decided on something extra for this year, and felt glad he'd been able to get Show Stopper, an entertainer back in Equestria before joining the Conversion Clinics, to agree to help. The clinic proper would be a little understaffed, but only for a day.
Now Mewsette and Granch were getting on, with Granch grumbling about the lack of room on these human bus things for griffon wings, and what did the humans think when they designed them anyway. As they did he asked, “Where's Nightshade? I thought she'd be here.”
“Huh? Oh, Nightshade!” Mewsette gave him a wicked smile, fangtips showing. “She's got something special planned. She's up there,” she pointed into the blue sky, “and she'll be meeting everyone at Hawk Mountain when story time comes.” She leaned close and purred,”It'll be a surprise. The kittens and foals will love it, believe me.” Mewsette grinned. “It'll scare the wits out of them.” Bram felt the beginnings of a cold sweat as she found a seat. He hoped the night didn't end with him tracking terrified children through a dark forest. He felt no desire to end up on one of those Internet videos about mysterious vanishings in the woods.
Once on the bus, Bram waited for the driver to pull out, heading for I-78 and Lenhartsville. He'd asked him to take it easy so he could start with some ghost stories. Looking over a bus full of cheery kids and parents of all species, save for the unicorn Superior Spell and Hot Trot in the back, who only had eyes and other body parts for each other. His scowl was mirrored on Granch's beak, as he sat beside the surly griflet. Mewsette gave him a reassuring smile.
He took the mike, cleared his throat, and began. “Hello, everyone. How many are locals? Okay, and how many are Equestrians or other visitors? Well, then I can be sure these stories will be new to some of you at least...”
#
“...And that's why local people from Easton still fear to go atop Hexenkopf Hill to this day. Because it's where the brauchers sent all the dark magic from the curses they lifted, it festered there to become a pit of ill-luck and wicknedness, and – yes?”
The slightly larger of the Changeling nymphs spoke up. “Why didn't they just have someling use the human Elements of Harmony to send the dark magic away, like back in Equestria?”
“Cobalt!” The little 'ling winced as his father spoke. “Humans can't do things like that, remember? They're, what's that phrase, mana voids, remember?”
“But they must have magic, how else could they be civilized?” Bram didn't catch who said that, but he heard Superior Spell's jeering response.
“Because they're not civilized. Like griffons and dragons and other savages back home,” he looked smug. Almost every human and nonhuman on the bus stared daggers at him. “That's why, what did Mother call it, debility --”
“Did she mean 'destiny'?” Cobalt said. The little 'Ling gave a shiver as the unicorn glared at them before speaking as though no one said anything.
“That's why Destiny brought ponies here. To save them like we saved all of you.” He sat back down with an expression that left Bram wishing he could kick him in the rear. Hot Trot giggled and pressed closer against his flank.
Cobalt sniffled as his father and brother nuzzled him. Bram hoped his next story amused the little ones. “Now if we can get back to the ghosts, next is the story of the man-eating wolf of Burn Bridle Hill and,” he tipped the short dragoness a conspiratorial wink, “the dragons of the Spitzbarrick, the Pinnacle on Hawk Mountain...”
#
Bram got halfway through the dragon story before the next interruption came,
“Wait,” Emerald interrupted, raising a scaly green finger. At least it was a polite one. “You're saying that fiery streaks shooting over the River of Rocks from the Pinnacle are dragons? There weren't any dragons around here back then! So where'd they come from?”
Bram fought down his annoyance. “They were created out of the ghosts of Indian lovers who leaped from the Pinnacle to their deaths. Because their tribes wouldn't let them marry.” He gave Emerald an intimidating glare. She just smiled faintly.
“So. They killed themselves because they couldn't marry. Which turned them into dragons.” Emerald just stared at him. “That's gotta be the dumbest thing I've ever heard.” Snickers trickling through the bus suggested she wasn't alone in her opinion.
Bram smiled, keeping his lips tightly together to hide the grinding of his teeth. “Well, the day is still young, miss. Now, moving right along...”
#
“And that's how the Pennsylvania Gorilla terrorized the Keystone State in the winter of 1920-21. Any more questions?” Bram glared around the bus.
“Wait, humans were scared of some overgrown monkey?” Granch looked ready to laugh. “Human, back home, ponies faced a whole ARMY of those things when the Storm King invaded. An' they had bombs that could turn ya to stone, too!”
Ponies and changelings and dragons and griffons all laughed in agreement. Bram slowly and carefully sat down in his seat.
“The stories about the rest of Hawk Mountain's ghosts,” he croaked out, “can wait.” At that moment Bram thought he understood what drove some people to join the Human Liberation Front.
He felt a light touch on his shoulder. It was little Cobalt, his wings a buzzing blur. “Uh, I liked the stories, Mister Bram Human.” Then, after glancing back at his father and in a lower voice, “Will we still get to hear the ones about murders?”
Bram smiled. “Yes, my little shapeshifter. I promise you will.”
Cobalt buzzed his wings in delight.
#
It was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to set, casting long creepy shadows, before they reached the road up to Hawk Mountain. The trees rose tall on all sides, with darkness shrouding them after just a few feet. Bram smiled to see a few lowered ears and set-back wings among the kids. Maybe now they'd appreciate these old stories.
They seemed more impressed now by the ones he'd told on the way in, to judge by how they spoke after the bus stopped and they all got off.
“This place looks like that Long Swamp place with the devils in it.” The griflet said uneasily as he stepped off and took to the air, hovering at about five feet. He swallowed. Bram began to wonder if he should've told that particular story. “They killed those human kids. Do they kill griflets?” He looked around, shivering, as Granch walked out behind him.
“Naw,” he said, giving the little fuzzball a tap on his feathered head. “'Cause I won't let 'em. Hey, kid, griffons fought the giant Arimaspi. Ya think we gotta be scared of some puny human devils that a guy shot with a musket?” The little griffon gave a weak smile but looked unconvinced.
To Bram's relief the brief hike to Schaumboch's tavern went well. Some of the fliers had to be corralled by parents or elder siblings when they flew off to look at, or try eating, some flowers or grass, but nothing else happened. He supposed that the deepening shadows all about under the old trees kept them close. Well, that and the promised treats waiting for everyone. Finally the building appeared of the shadows before them.
“Well, there it is,” Bram pointed at the one and a half story tall building in front of them.
“Killer Schaumboch's Tavern.” In the dusk the white stucco over its sandstone walls combined with the recessed windows and doors made it look like some monstrous skull. Even he felt a shudder. Looking around, he felt relief to see a fire pit with wood ready for the bonfire, well clear of the trees. “Okay, everyone. Let's get situated, but nothing too permanent. Remember we'll be going to the campground later and they'll be having a Halloween party there, along with treats and costumes.” Kids and adults both looked delighted. “But first, we have our fire and then,” he lowered his voice to what he hoped was a spooky tone, “we get the last ghost story. Killer Schaumboch and his victims who still walk this mountain.”
Almost on cue something screamed higher up on the mountain towards Kittatinny Ridge. Bram froze as it rose wildly, growing more shrill until it ended on a shriek like a murdered woman. Judging by the pinned ears and bristling fur and feathers he wasn't the only one impressed. Even the young dragoness Emerald huffed out a short blast of fire before she grabbed her little sister beside her.
“D-don't worry, little sis,” she gulped and squeezed her sister tight. Her eyes were wide with panic. “I-I'll keep you safe!”
“Not so tight!” The human girl pushed her back, or tried to. “That was just a cougar. We heard one years ago in Yellowstone, remember, big sis?”
Bram felt his heartbeat slow back towards a saner rhythm before someone said, “Hey, at school we got told cougars were extinct in Pennsylvania!” The whatever it was shrieked again, and so did most of the kids and several of the adults. It was even closer now.
“Th-th-that was a trick!” Superior Spell yelped. Ears pinned, he kept circling to keep Hot Trot between him and whatever it was. He stared at Bram, eyes rolling in equine panic. “You did something to make that sound!”
“No,” Bram said, trying and failing to keep a smirk off his face. “But I know what did.” He walked over to a nearby bush. As he did the shriek sounded again. He pushed the shrubbery aside, and a red-furred streak shot out and ran through the small crowd of humans and Equestrians. Yells turned into laughs as they saw the fox race by. The animal crossed the clearing, turned and gave them all an ears-pinned gekkering snarl, and dashed off into the woods.
“Hah!” Superior Spell tossed his head and mane right in Bram's face. “I knew it was nothing.”
“I'm sure,” Bram muttered. He walked back to the main group, keeping one eye on the snotty colt and another on the skies. Where was Nightshade? He needed some help with this bunch. The first bright stars were appearing above, along with the crescent moon, ready for a witch to go flying across it. He'd read in the papers that weather ponies from Equestria, working in the clinics and earning some cash on the side by managing local weather, promised a clear and dry night for Halloween. It looked like they were keeping their word. Weather control by magic flying sapient horses from another dimension. Once I would have found that strange.
Bram supervised making the fire. Emerald was a great help. Several of the still-human kids clapped for delight to see her breathe fire. She turned and traced an elegant bow to them.
“Wait until your wings come in,” Granch muttered to her, sounding amused, “and they start begging you to let them ride you.”
“At least they don't pet you,” Mewsette purred at them both. Judging by the looks aimed her way, Bram suspected it was the fathers and older brothers who wanted to be petting Mewsette right now. As he thought that she raised one hand-paw and almost idly splayed her claws, looking like a fistful of knives. They immediately found better things to do than watch her.
He put a grill up and set some hot dogs and hamburgers over the fire, along with some soyburgers for the ponies. The driver and Show Stopper looked after those.
As they did Bram gathered the kids around.
“I told you most of the ghost stories on the way here,” he began, leaning forward to let the fire cast his shadow towards the small crowd.
“Not that they were very scary,” Superior Spell stage-whispered to Hot Trot.
She just giggled back at him. “Oh, honey, you're such a riot!”
Bram found himself wishing a riot would happen to the two of them. Instead, keeping an eye on the eager Cobalt where he sat astride his worried-looking father's back, he said, “But I kept the best, the darkest, and the creepiest for the last.”
Cobalt and his brother looked like it was Christmas morning and they were about to get their present. They pressed closer,eager for every juicy bloody bit. Many of the other kids followed their example, the griflet leading the pack. Superior Spell just blew through his lips in contempt.
Bram bent lower, leaning close and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. Like he was including them in a secret meant for them and them alone. “So here it is. The story of the Hawk Mountain Hatchetman, the keeper of the bloody tavern, Killer Schaumboch!” He finished with a yell, rising and throwing his arms out wide.
The kids shrieked and clapped for glee as he began. “About a hundred and fifty years ago, here on Hawk Mountain, someone built a tavern and inn on the site of an old Indian massacre. The man who ran the inn was named Matthias Schaumbacher, though almost everyone called him Schaumboch --”
“Why?” Cobalt piped up with a look of total innocence. Before Bram could respond Superior Spell stuck his two bits in.
“Probably because he was a liar and a thief, like Change-” He fell silent as Granch and Mewsette both gave him looks that promised serious pain if he finished that thought. He flinched and leaned back on his haunches, folding his forelegs and looking away in obviously faked unconcern. “Like how some creatures are from back in civilization, I mean Equestria.”
Bram hurriedly headed off any more interruptions.
“Because it was easier to remember, and it helped make him distinct from other unrelated locals named Schaumbacher.” Bram walked slowly back and forth between his audience and the bonfire. The flames danced, casting his distorted shadow across the wall of the old inn behind them. He grinned to see some of the kids shifting uneasily. “Anyway, Schaumboch and his wife were supposed to run the inn for people traveling, mostly afoot back then, over the mountains from the Lehigh Valley and Philadelphia and the Poconos to Berks County beyond. The roads were dark and lonely and long, and once you left the towns and got into the woods you'd be hearing all sort of strange noises about you and no knowing what made them. So you just kept a close eye on your light if you had it and a good grip on a walking stick, and felt very happy when in the middle of all that unfriendly darkness spread out around you you saw a yellow square of light in the distance that promised warmth and food and people for company.” As he spoke a bright yellow light came on in the window behind him. The kids and their parents all gasped. Bram glanced at Show Stopper. The unicorn gave the slightest smile and nod of his head. Good.
“So, quite a few folks enjoyed the sight of the lights on at Schaumboch's Tavern when they saw it,” Bram grandly indicated the whitewashed walls behind him before he dropped his voice low, “but not everyone who stayed there, left it.”
“W-why not?” Cobalt's little brother asked from atop his worried-looking father.
“Because someling got them with an ax, right?!?” Cobalt flew into the air, wings buzzing. He made a chopping motion with one claw as his father cringed. “Whack! Whack! Whack!” Many of the other kids grumbled or glared their annoyance, lead by Emerald.
“Yeesh, bug, don't ruin it for the rest of us!” Superior Spell snorted, before quickly adding. “Not that I care about this little foal stuff.” The growls and grumbles were a little louder now.
Cobalt looked incensed but returned to the ground beside his parent. Bram took a deep breath and continued.
“Folks living nearby noticed as time went on that Schaumboch wasn't what you'd call hospitable for an innkeeper. He kept his barn locked up tight, all the time Folks noticed that though he owned only a few pigs and cows and chickens, he seemed to spend a lot of time in there alone butchering some kind of animals. Once some local boys sneaked up to the place. They saw blood splashes leading to the barn. Odd thing was, they came from the inn. They remembered their fathers telling them how Schaumboch only had the one fellow staying, a sutler who sold old Civil War uniforms. It would be odd to butcher a whole pig to feed just the one guest. They froze when they heard noises, groans and gasps like something dying, coming from the closed barn.”
On cue a groan came from the tavern. Bram felt his own hair rise at how realistic it sounded, trailing off into a sort of sloppy gurgling. Some of the kids shrieked this time. Hot Trot was one of them, stepping away from Superior Spell as he tried to twine necks with hers. Her eyes rolled in the firelight. Superior Spell scowled his displeasure. Cobalt's little brother flashed with blue light as he turned into a turtle and quickly yanked his head and limbs inside his shell. As his father and brother whispered at him that it was okay to change back, Bram went on.
“The boys walked closer. The groans grew louder, and louder, before they broke off in a shriek. They were all hunters and been raised on farms, but this didn't sound like any dying animal they knew tell of. They went up to the wooden door to listen...” Bram kept lowering his voice, before yelling, “Just in time for Schaumboch to come out the door at them with a roar, an axe in his hands and his clothes soaked with blood!”
Something roared behind Bram as the inn door slammed open. The faces of the kids and their parents went from interest to wide-eyed terror. Their shrieks filled the air. Between his feet leaving the ground and his heart resuming beating, Bram thought, What the devil is Show Stopper doing?
He froze to see Show Stopper's eyes as wide as everypony else's. This wasn't him. A svage voice roared behind Bram.
“BWA-HAHA! Did you really think Sombra was gone forever? Foals!”
Bram turned to find himself face to muzzle with horror.
A massive armored unicorn stallion gave a maniacal laugh. His crimson horn curved like a scimitar. Fangs lined his mouth. His ebon mane and tail were both unkempt and wild. With a roar he reared and sent a spell blast right at Bram's face.
Not Just Ponies: Hawk Mountain Halloween
Bram jumped aside as the spellbolt flew past his face. Black-lined crimson light flared in his eyes. No heat, no crack of air, just a flash of light. Something about this felt wrong.
As Bram thought that the unicorn charged past him right at the kids with a diabolic laugh. “BWA-HAHA! Did you really think Sombra was gone forever? Foals!”
Ponies and Changelings and Griffons and one small Dragon all screamed in terror as the monstrous unicorn leveled his horn at them. As he did Bram leaped on his back. He raced through the options in his mind. Grab the horn, yank the head back, punch him in the eye and most likely get trampled as the kids fled.
Let this work, let this work – WHAT?
Bram crashed through the rearing stallion face-first into the dirt. Sombra gave one last laugh, blew a raspberry at him, and vanished.
“It's an illusion!” Bram rolled over and spat out a mouthful of grass. How did ponies eat the stuff? The kids were racing here, there, and everywhere in a panic. Cobalt and his little brother hovered over the mayhem, wings buzzing and their father missing. Granch, Mewsette, and the rest of the adults were either trying to calm them down or howling in terror themselves. All save Superior Spell who rolled on the grass laughing. Comprehension and fury exploded in Bram. “He cast that! That little monster! That refugee from a glue factory! So help me, I'll – AHHH!”
A giant multi-armed insect-thing dropped before him with a roar. Massive clawed forelegs swung over his head. Savage mandibles came together like giant shears.
Bram rolled his eyes.
“I'm tired of these illusions, kid!” He punched it in the nose. Gasped as his hand hit hard chitin. He blinked as he stared into his face with huge compound eyes.
It hissed anger, mandibles snapping in his face.
Bram dropped onto his back with a shriek and launched both feet into its stomach. Hard.
“Ow!” It shrieked and leaped back, forelegs wrapped around its body. Green flames consumed it. The monster vanished to reveal Cobalt's father, groaning and holding his barrel. His kids flew to him, exclaiming excitedly over how cool it had all been. He just groaned before looking at Bram. “Did you have to kick me so hard?”
“Me? You caught me off guard, for all I knew you were going to eat me!” The Changeling shrank back, ears pinned and looking miserable. Granch and Mewsette glared at him where they stood, calming the other kids. Emerald held her little sister close. Bram mentally kicked himself. He remembered just how recently Changelings had been accepted into Equestrian society, and how terrifying many creatures still found them. As well as how badly that fear upset the Changelings.
“I'm sorry, sir,” Bram walked over to the Changeling, knelt and lightly patted his withers. He slowly looked less crushed as Bram added, “I forgot myself.” With very good reason, he mentally added. “I apologize, and as soon as I get that brat Superior Spell over here so will he.” He looked around. Wide eyes looked at him, but everyone seemed to have calmed down. “Where is he?”
“He's gone.” Mewsette looked around the clearing. Her tail lashed slowly. She was not happy. “So is that silly mare Hot Trot. They ran off to hide.”
“They'd better,” Bram clenched his hands. He stalked into the middle of the clearing and looked around. The darkness was deep enough by now that he could only see to the edge of the trees. Beyond them lay impenetrable darkness. “Those two idiots! If they ran off into those trees in the dark, they'll break their legs.”
“I hope they do,” Granch growled. Mewsette shushed him. Granch ignored her, flexing his talons like he wanted to grip a pony's neck with them. “Of all the dumb stunts ta pull!” He looked at Bram. “You're supposed ta be in charge of this zoo. What do ya want ta do?”
“Go home and sleep for a week.” Bram put his face in his hands and sighed deeply. “But we have to find those two. Kids,” he turned to the assembled youngsters, “everyone, I'm sorry about this mess.”
“Is this normal for the human world?” Daddy Changeling sounded miserable. His children stood close by him. Cobalt looked delighted at this turn of events. “I was told things didn't get as crazy here as they do back in Equestria.”
“This is exceptional, sir,” Bram assured him. “Or it once was, anyway. I would like to ask you and Show Stopper and Miss Emerald,” he nodded at the unicorn and the dragoness, “to take the children inside the inn and wait for us to bring those two back.”
“What!” The Changeling paled and pointed a claw at the building. The plastered stones gleamed like bones in the firelight. “In there? Where all those people were murdered?” His smaller son looked almost as nervous as his father. Cobalt clapped his claws.
“Maybe we'll see Schaumboch's ghost with his bloody ax!” He grinned and tugged on his father's leg. “Wouldn't that be great?” His father looked ready to either run or faint.
Bram stared. This guy could turn into a giant insect from a 50's horror movie and a ghost story scared him? Before he could say anything Mewsette saved him the trouble.
“Oh, there's nothing to worry about,” she purred and swayed forward to stand beside Bram. “Mister Schaumboch spends his nights wandering Hawk Mountain. Doesn't he Bram?” She gave him a meaningful look as every other set of eyes turned on him.
“He sure does,” Bram nodded at her. “Doesn't come home until dawn and we'll be gone by then. I hope. You'll all be perfectly safe in there.” They looked skeptical, but began heading inside the inn. Bram only relaxed as the last of the kids entered. He poured water from a can over the fire. Granch and Mewsette watched in silence. “Okay,” he said as he finished. “Now let's go find those two before anything else goes wrong.”
“A-hahaha!” Wild laughter sounded above. Responding shrieks came from within the inn. “Puny mortals! The night! Will last! FOREVER!”
“Even I know not ta give the universe a set-up line like that!” Granch yelled as he took to the air, moving to keep some distance from the new arrival. Even Mewsette hissed and spat at Bram. He could only look apologetic.
A black winged equine form dropped to earth, eyes flashing and horn aglow with cold fire. Everything about her from her silver barding to her emerald green eyes to the combination of long horn and batlike wings was the image of the Nightmare Bram had seen in so many Nightmare Night decorations. It, she, reared, boxing at the air with her forehooves.
A terrified equine shriek came from Schaumboch's Inn. “IT'S NIGHTMARE MOON! RUN!”
“She'll give us candy!” Cobalt yelled in delight.
“She'll eat us!” Another pony voice added. “Barricade the door!”
“No!” Bram spun and raced the tavern. He began pounding on the shut wooden door as terror set icy fingers around his throat. “The place is full of antiques! They're worth a fortune! I'll have to pay for them!” Behind him Nightmare Moon laughed a very familiar sounding laugh.
“She's trying to get in!” That sounded like Cobalt's paranoid pappy. It was followed by the crashing-popping-snapping sound of several hundred pounds of incredibly expensive and irreplaceable century-plus antique wooden furniture smashing into the door. Bram tried to force it. It budged just enough to show him the piled and smashed furnishings. He stepped back with a groan.
“Now I'll have to become a dragon when the Veil comes,” he put his face in his hands. “It'll be the only way I can live long enough to pay all my debts off.”
“Bram! Vy is everypony so upset?” As the Nightmare spoke feline and griffon laughter began to fill the air. Past her Mewsette and Granch stood, holding on to each other like a pair of drunks trying to say upright, laughing helplessly. “I vanted to scare fillies and colts, but just a little. And vy do you have such long face?”
“Wait.” Bram twitched. “Nightshade?” He looked past her to the other two as they wiped tears from their eyes. “And you? You lunatics thought this was funny? I'm going to have to pay for those antiques! Does every creature from Equestria think it's funny to torment human beings?”
“Aw, come on, human,” Granch stood and walked over to him, setting one furred-and-feathered foreleg around his shoulders. His fake armor clattered as he said, “It's Nightmare Night. Halloween. What the heck ever. Everygriff is owed a good scare. Remember?”
Bram threw his leg off in disgust. “I'm glad you feel that way. When Hawk Mountain shows us the bill for that little stunt you'll get an even better scare.” He shot a dirty look at Mewsette and Nightshade as they watched, fighting to hold back laughter. “The same for you!”
“Human,” Mewsette purred out. “Remember. We get paid in gold and gemstones. I think it's safe to say we can afford to cover the damages to some old furniture. Besides if you're worried about the human law, what about that Changeling in there?” She flicked an ear towards the still-tightly shut door. “He almost crushed you.”
“That's different,” Bram forced himself to calm down. Nightshade walked over as he did, the sabatons on her hooves lightly clicking against the stones underhoof. Her eyes glowed green as they caught the fire and moonlight. “That'd be called self-defense.”
The three looked surprised at that, eyes widening and ears going back on those who had them.
“Human laws will get you in trouble for destroying historical property, but not for nearly breaking someone's neck?” Granch fluffed his feathers up and shook himself. “That's one bucked-up set of laws.”
“Why did you even do this?” Bram looked at the trio before realization struck. “Wait. Cynthia asked you to keep me distracted and this is what you decided on?”
“She asked us, yes,” Nightshade nodded. “But ve also decide to give newfoals and human children a for-real Equestrian Nightmare Night.” She shrugged, leathery wings rustling. “They seem to enjoy it.”
“No, Cobalt,” came a Changeling's cry from inside the barred inn, “you will not open the door so Nightmare Moon can eat us!”
Nightshade gave a fanged grin. “Most of them, any'vay.”
“I'm gonna have to talk with Cynthia,” Bram rubbed his forehead. Throbbing pain was starting up somewhere deep inside his head. “Right now we have to find Superior Spell and Hot Trot before they hurt themselves.”
Mewsette and Nightshade both looked a little sour, but they nodded agreement. Granch sat back on his haunches, forelegs folded over his chest.
“Ya sure we can't just let em get hurt a little bit?” He rolled his eyes as they all gave him dirty looks. “Yeesh. Okay, okay. Let's track 'em down before the ghosts and ghouls get them.”
“We should be so lucky,” Bram heard Mewsette mutter as he turned and walked up to the front door of the inn. He knocked on it loudly and waited for the panicked racket to die down inside before saying, “Show Stopper? You and the driver are in there, right?”
“Maybe,” Show Stopper replied, his voice shaky. “Who's asking?”
Bram put his face in his palm as he took several deep breaths. “It's Bram. I'm out here with Mewsette, Granch, and Nightshade. We're going to go and look for Superior Spell and Hot Trot. While we're gone, the rest of you remove the barricade from the door and wait by the bus.” He hesitated, and added, “Please don't destroy anything else.”
Bram walked back to the three Equestrians, checking in his pocket for a flashlight. He took it out and turned it on, frowning at the dim light it shed. He looked around and caught a faint gleam of metal beside the fire. He reached down and picked it up. It was the ax used for cutting the firewood, an impressive piece of work with a broad blade and a downward-curving spike in the back. He guessed it to have been liberated from a disbanded fire company. It made a reassuring weight in his hand.
“Afraid you'll run in to one of your monsters?” Mewsette nodded at the ax.
“Let's say I want to be cautious,” Bram replied. He pointed at the surrounding dark woods, a light wind whispering through the branches. “Bears and coyotes are around, and maybe worse. I've heard those stories about Equestrian monsters slipping through the Veil to Earth.” He tapped the ax's head against the ground. “Call it fire insurance. I take it in the hopes I don't need it.”
Granch peered at him. “Huh. Now you kinda look like that Sham-back guy. How you wanna handle this?”
“You and Nightshade go together,” Bram nodded at the griffon. “You can both fly, and she can see in the dark. They'd probably be easier to see from above. Mewsette, if you're willing,” he looked at her. Her eyes gleamed in the dim firelight and her black pelt gleamed like a piece of the night sky. “We'll go together. Your night vision is better than mine. Okay?”
“Good with me,” Mewsette grinned. “One thing first though.” Before he could ask what she reached down and with a sudden motion whipped her dress off to stand there as naked as a jaybird. She removed the belt from her costume and out it on. “What?” She made sure of her cell phone in one belt pouch as he gaped. Her fur and other parts of her anatomy rippled in very distracting fashion. “I've got fur. Clothes are more decoration than anything else. And this dress is too pricey for me to risk it prowling around in the woods at night.” She carefully folded the thin silk and returned to the bus. Bram heard a metallic clatter as Granch took his broken armor off and carefully piled it to the side. Mewsette came back out from the bus and walked to stand beside Bram. He felt the warmth radiating from her, or maybe his own temperature was rising. Certainly his face felt like it was turning fire red.
“Welp,” Mewsette tugged at his arm and headed off or the road down the mountain. “C'mon, human, let's get to it.” When he hesitated, she smirked. “I meant hunting for those two brats, not,” the translation spell she used broke down as it occasionally did with non-pony languages, leaving her 'words' a long rising yowl. The kind Bram heard from cats under his bedroom window. That cheery thought in mind, he followed her down the dark road, hoping she didn't notice what felt like an epic blush on his face. From behind came the sound of Granch and Nightshade taking flight, her soft wingbeats barely audible beside the heavy beating of his feathered wings.
Bram closely watched the road as he and Mewsette walked along it. Nothing showed where or even if Superior Spell and Hot Trot had used it. The wind blew softly through the trees overhead, bringing a chill. Not just a physical one either. He remembered stories he'd heard and read that said that the influx of Equestrian magic were bringing old legends back to life. The sightings of things like sea monsters, Bigfoot, ghosts, and UFOs had all climbed since the Veil opened. Even allowing for most of them being human error, pranks, or mistakes spawned by people seeing unfamiliar Equestrian creatures, some of them sounded disturbingly likely. Despite his storytelling earlier and his reassurances to the kids and their parents, he felt no desire to run into glowing giants or Shaumboch on this mountain.
“Hold it,” Mewsette pointed at the road where it lead up the mountain. “What's that way?”
“The River of Rocks, I think,” Bram began walking forward. Mewsette set her arm across his chest to stop him. “Wouldn't they be headed that way? I remember being told that pegasi and other fliers will seek the heights if they can.”
“Yes, but that little rodent Superior Spell,” Mewsette spat in disgust as her fur fluffed up, “is a unicorn. He'd prefer flatlands or the woods like most ponies. And with Hot Trot, they'd prefer someplace nice and quiet.” She turned and began heading back down the mountain. “Probably not too far away, either.”
“What makes you so sure they'd be close by? Ponies can run pretty fast.”
Mewsette turned to give him a cool look that mingled amusement with scorn.
“Human, the way those two were acting, they won't want to wait any longer than they have to settle down to business.” Her long tail lashed behind her in amusement. “I've heard about these 'love lanes' here, haven't you ever been on one?”
It took a moment for her words to sink in.
“No! I mean, the phrase is lovers' lane, and I never had the chance, I was too busy with family and then the Veil came and, well, Cynthia's a great lady but she's been too busy with becoming a New Whelp, and,” he sighed. “Look. Mewsette. Can we just find those two before they get in any more trouble?”
Mewsette looked at him, just long enough for him to feel uneasy. She gave a soft feline laugh and turned away. “Sure thing, human. Just don't be so jumpy. It makes people wonder why you're so defensive.”
Bram followed her carefully. Normally the dark didn't bother him, but this? This was real darkness. Anything more than ten or twelve feet away was a mass of shadows. He wondered if it'd been this dark the night he'd been born. Bram remembered an old story about how children born at midnight or nearly so could see in the dark. He stubbed his toe on something unyielding and bit down on a curse word. So much for that idea. Hawk Mountain at night was just too dark and creepy for him. He stumbled over another stone. “Ow!”
Too cluttered, too.
“Are you having problems?” Mewsette didn't bother to hide the amusement in her voice. She stood and waited for him to catch up, extending one paw towards him. “If you want, you can hold my hand.” He caught a gleam as of fangs bared in a smile under the gaze of her glowing green eyes. “I'll guide you.” When he hesitated she spat. “Human, don't be stubborn. I promised Cynthia I'd keep an eye on you.”
Bram took her paw in his hand, feeling the rough pads, soft fur and the bare tips of her claws prickling against his skin.
“And you don't want an angry dragon after you, right?” Bram said as they started forward again. The flashlight of his was worse than useless. Something meant for use in a dark house didn't work so well in a dark forest. “Oh, thanks again for helping me with this, Mewsette. I'm sorry about those two silly ponies.”
“No need to apologize,” Mewsette moved with careless grace in the dark. She gave his hand a squeeze. “You can't control how fools act, whatever their species. No one's blaming the dragons for what that big one is doing down in Mexicolt.”
“Mexico,” Bram corrected idly as he kept looking around. Where were they? This place was a lot easier to navigate in the daytime. “I wonder how it got here. I thought all the big adult dragons were still restricted to Equestria's side of the Veil, something about the mana flow to keep their bodies functioning at full capacity? Maybe that'll make it easier for the Mexican army to stop it.”
“Probably not from what your human seeing-crystal, the television, showed,” Mewsette spat again, sounding truly angry this time. Her tail lashed and struck his leg. “Be better if they did. Then Cynthia and Volcano and the rest wouldn't have to go stop him themselves --”
She stopped speaking a minute too late.
“What?” Bram froze in his tracks. Mewsette said nothing. She just kept looking away from him, into the darkness. “Mewsette,” Bram chose his words very carefully. “What did Cynthia really tell you she and the other dragons were going to do down in Mexico?” He waited. Her hands dropped away, lightly flexing, nervously baring her claws. She began to step away, stopped with a sharp hiss when Bram took her by the shoulder. He squeezed down, eliciting another hiss. “Mewsette, I want you to tell me what Cynthia and the rest of the dragons are doing. Here and now.”
“She made me promise not to say,” Mewsette looked at him, her eyes cold green coals. “Human, this is not the time or the place. Trust her. I do. I'm sure she'll be safe.”
“Mewsette.” Bram felt mild surprise at the snap in his voice. Mewsette must have been stunned too. She tried to step back before he took her by the shoulder again. She instinctively raised one paw and flexed her claws. He ignored it to say, “Tell me the truth about what Cynthia and the other dragons are doing. Now.”
Mewsette looked at him like she was thinking hard on her decision. Finally she simply said, “Cynthia told Granch and Nightshade and me that Volcano and the other older trueborn dragons were going to go to Mexico to stop that big one with the, what is it, cart-group?”
“Cartel. Narcotraficantes. Drug runners, gangsters, murdering lowlives.” He shrugged. “Take your pick. Later,” he waved his hands to keep her attention as she looked ready to start figuring her preferred term right then and there. “What else did Cynthia say about that Mexican dragon?”
Mewsette shrugged. “Just that Volcano said he was a disgrace, he was shaming all dragons by what he was doing, and they were going to stop him.” She turned to resume the search but stopped as Bram stepped in front of her.
“Who they, Mewsette?”
“Bram,” she looked tired and frustrated. When he refused to step aside she huffed and said, “The other dragons, trueborn and New Whelps. From here and elsewhere. Napalm and Tephra and his two girlfriends,” she glanced away, “and Cynthia and other New Whelps. And more, lots more, all they can get from across the country, maybe the planet. They'll hunt him and his followers down and kill them if they don't give up.” Mewsette smiled as she set her hands on her hips. “See? There's nothing to worry about.”
“No, nothing to worry about beside people I love and care about jumping into the middle of a freaking war – illegally, I might add – to fight it out with one of the biggest and nastiest dragons on the planet,” Bram clenched his fists, anger thickening his voice. Mewsette took a step back, raising her hands with claws splayed, as he snapped, “Oh, and some people who call themselves my friends lied to me about it.” He stepped away from her and laughed, short and harsh. “Is this something they teach you in that Friendship School I've heard so much about? Lies and Deception 101?”
“I did not lie to you!” Now it was Bram's turn to step back as Mewsette spat at him. Her voice became a low rumbling growl as she added, “Cynthia didn't want you to worry, and she said Tephra and Volcano didn't want to chance anyone telling your human authorities about it because they might try to stop them --”
“With good reason!”
“And how well have they done?” Mewsette spat her scorn. “Our world isn't yours. When we see monsters or tyrants preying on innocents we take care of it, we don't let a bunch of useless politicians and other scat-hoarders waste time talking while people die. If Volcano and the rest tried to get permission to save lives, they'd be waiting until after the Veil covered the planet before anything got done!”
“Okay, maybe you have a point, but still!” Mewsette sniffed. Bram took a grip on his anger. “You can get arrested for this, sent to prison forever! And what if Cynthia or any of the others gets killed or crippled? Or they just fail?”
“They won't,” Mewsette frowned and looked away as her long tail lashed slowly, showing her unease. “Granch and all of us who know are sure they won't.” She looked back up and must have seen his unspoken question. “You need to have faith in your friends like we do.”
“What do the ponies have to say about –”
“I don't think any of the actual ponies know about this. Nightshade, though, yes. The Thestrals still feel odd to the other ponies and vice-versa, they're closer to us carnivores in some ways. The ponies? They would have complained about the dragons being violent and hasty and,” her face twisted in a brief snarl, “undiplomatic. Like when we went after the Yetis for aiding the Storm King back in the war. They meddled and stopped us.” She shrugged and walked past him, her clawed feet missing every single branch and stone or anything else that could make noise. Even distracted she knew how to move in the dark. “Ponies need to learn when not to care what others think. You know, Bram – Bram!”
He pushed past her. Before them the trail forked. Leaves rustled as he stepped on them and he barely avoided tripping over a rock but he didn't care. Instead he just turned his flashlight on and said, “Mewsette, you go down one side on the trail and I'll take the other,” he pointed out the left-hand path for her and headed to the one on the right. “We still need to find those two and right now I think I need to do it alone.” He cut off her protest with a sharp, “Understood? I do not want to see you right now.”
She looked almost hurt. Then with an utterly feline hiss and spit of contempt she stormed down the other pathway. Bram heard her kicking leaves and branches aside. He bit down on the apology rising in his throat to head down the other path, stomping in anger. The devil with that cat if she didn't understand his anger at her dishonesty right now. The devil with all the Equestrians while he was thinking about it. They brought the damned Veil to earth and then had the nerve to not understand why humans were furious over learning they had a choice between losing their species or their lives. And that was when they weren't dragging people he cared about off to war zones. Like they had any right to behave like heroes from a bad Hollywood shoot-em-up.
Blasted meddling monsters from another dimension.
He shoved a branch hanging over the trail away harder than needed. Much harder.
It swung back and slap.
Pain lanced through his scalp, and something hot began running down the side of his face. He put fingers to it and looked at them. They were smeared with crimson, and he felt more blood running from the cut. Wonderful. A scalp wound. He cursed under his breath as he stopped to bind the injury. Better get it before the kids saw it. Let that skittish Changeling father see it and he'd probably run off shrieking into the woods or turn into another giant bug.
He froze as from very close in the woods he heard a frightened and familiar unicorn's voice say, “What was that? Was it that Sham-human?”
“Did you see a light?” Hot Trot's whispered and frightened voice answered Superior Spell. “Remember what that dumb guide said,” Bram ground his teeth, “he has that lantern he carries around to find victims with.”
Bram looked at the trees on either side of the trail. Clouds were overhead now, thin and wispy but still turning a night-black woods even darker. He stood still, listening carefully. Now he could hear it. The sound of hooves on fallen leaves and twigs. He turned the flashlight off. The last thing he wanted was for those two to get scared and run off at the sight of the light.
“Maybe we should leave,” Superior said in that shaky voice. It came from just beyond a nice thick bush. Too thick to get through without the ax. A tone of mockery sounded as Superior added, “We don't need that ignorant human savage finding us out here.”
That comment decided Bram. 'Ignorant savage', was he? Oh, he'd drag them back by their tails. He set the flashlight in a pocket, took the ax in both hands, pushed the branches aside with it and charged through.
Period clothes, ax, bloody face, and all.
Two equine faces turned towards him. Their eyes seemed to devour their faces as they shot wide. Bram raised the ax and shook it, yelling in a fury.
“I've been chasing you idiots for more than an hour --”
Superior Spell took one look, whinnied in terror, lowered his glowing horn and cut loose with a spell blast.
Bram knew only that a painfully bright blast of light went off in his face before something thudded into his chest like the hardest punch he'd ever taken. He felt his ribs shudder inside. Pain shocked along his breastbone. The breath rushed from his lungs in a gasp as he went head over heels backwards. There was a confusion of branches and dirt and blood and the chill night sky high above, stars shining around a crescent moon and some dark mass dropping groundwards from it. His next clear thought was of being on his back, gasping after air that just didn't want to come. There was a sickly-sweet taste in his mouth like he felt when recovering from a dose of gas at the dentist's office. He caught sight of Superior Spell and Hot Trot staring at him from a few feet away, their ears pinned and eyes wide and rolling in equine terror. He tried to speak. Only a pained wheezing escaped him.
“It's him!” Hot Trot danced on her hooves in terror. “That crazy Sham-whatever! Quick, stop him before he kills us!”
Superior didn't say anything. He just lowered his head, horn aglow, as he started calling up another spellbolt.
Bram stared and could only think, so it's not the Veil or dragon-hating paranoids or crazy dragons that finish me, I get killed by some scared horny teenager?
Superior's horn pointed right at his face. It glowed incandescent at its tip.
And a dark armored winged form dropped down between him and the two ponies with a savage hiss. “Vhat do you fool foals t'ink you're doing?”
Superior's spell dissipated. He backed away, eyes getting somehow bigger.
“V'ell?” Nightshade stuck her muzzle in his face. “Say somet'ing, you ass!”
His response was a scream. His horn glowed incandescent as his magic enveloped Hot Trot. She gave a wild whinny as he hurled her at the newcomer. Both mares shrieked, one in panic, one in fury. As Hot Trot and Nightshade collapsed in a pile the unicorn turned and fled up the trail back towards the inn, shrieking. “AHH! NIGHTMARE MOON! HERE! EAT THIS TAIL-LIFTING MARE! SHE'S NOT EVEN A REAL PONY ANYWAY!”
“V'at? Get off of me, you little hussy!” The Thestral gave a howl somewhere between a horse's whinny and a predator's shriek. “Ow! V'atch v'ere you put those hooves!”
“Oh please oh please oh please don't eat me Miss Nightmare Moon! I --” Hot Trot froze upon seeing Bram stand up, leaning on the wood ax for support. Her eyes got wider and wider as she looked from one to the other in horror, her jaws working silently.
If she faints, Bram told himself between painful wheezing breaths, I'm letting her lay out here, and the heck with it. Instead she flung herself at his feet, whinnying in terror.
“OH PLEASE MISTER SHAM-WHATEVER DON'T CHOP ME UP AND PLEASE NIGHTMARE MOON DON'T EAT ME LIKE THOSE PONIES SAID YOU DO I SWEAR I'LL STOP CHASING STALLIONS - “ She slowly lifted her head and looked at them both. “Wait, you're not ghosts, are you?”
“How did you ever guess?” Bram hissed through the pain in his chest. He took a deep breath and shuddered. It didn't feel like anything was broken. Just very badly bruised. He waved a hand at her. “Now get up, we need to get back to the inn and everyone else. And you,” he croaked through the pain in his chest at Nightshade. She looked abashed, half hiding her face behind one of her leathery wings as he said, “What's the idea of lying to me about what Cynthia's up to?”
“You mean her and the other scalies going to Mexico to kill that drug lord dragon? What?” Hot Trot smirked as Bram started. She seemed to be getting some of her nerve back. “Well, like, where else would they all go right now, and why?”
Bram groaned, only partly due to his injury, and sank back against a nearby tree for support. “Am I the only one who didn't know?”
“Sure seems that way,” Hot Trot didn't bother hiding a whicker of amusement. Nightshade came up beside her as she spoke. “You're, like, not too smart, are you? Ow!” She stepped away from Nightshade, flicking one ear back and forth. The older mare moved to keep her close, wings rustling and eyes shining balefully. “You bit me! That hurt!”
She gulped and shrank back against Bram as Nightshade spoke in a menacing hiss.
“If you t'ink dat vas a painful bite, filly, then I envy your ignorance.” Nightshade spread her wings out wide, eliciting a frightened whinny from Hot Trot. Nightshade tossed her head at Bram, dark mane flowing from under her helmet. Anger thickened her Trotsylvanian accent. “D'is human brought you out here, and you and d'at other young fool run off and get him injured. You haff made much trouble dis night, and if you vere vun off my herd, I vould bite your ears even more for vhat you haff done!”
Hot Trot cringed like an oversized dog under Nightshade's fury. Bram saw how scared she was. He moved to stand beside her and set one hand on Nightshade's velvet withers.
“Nightshade, the kid's sorry, and no harm done,” he winced at the fire inside his chest as he inhaled, “well, no permanent harm. Cut her some slack.” He fell silent as she set one wing against his mouth, shushing him.
“Bram, please to be silent,” she spoke sharply, her words almost hissed. “I do dis for her, more than for you. She iss Pony now,” she glared at Hot Trot, “or she t'inks she iss. But she knows no'ting of how ponies are supposed to act.” She towered over Hot Trot. “Ponies do not hurt others by being fools and if they do, they make apologies.” She extended one leathery wing and waved it at Bram. “If you are Pony, then act like one. Apologize. Now.”
Hot Trot looked from her to Bram and back again. Nightshade spread her wings wide and hissed, fangs displayed and eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. Hot Trot gulped, hurried to stand in front of Bram, and said in a rush, “Mister-Siegfried-I-am-so-sorry-I-didn't-listen-and-you-got-hurt.” She looked down. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“We'll see,” Bram pointed back towards the trail. Hot Trot hesitated. Nightshade gave a snort. The pegasus hurried onto the trail and started for the tavern. Bram inhaled deeply and winced as he followed her, his feet crunching over dry leaves. .
“Bram, lean against me.” Nightshade said as she moved up beside him. She set her wing on that side over his shoulders like a cloak. It felt warm and she smelled faintly musky, combining her usual perfume with an undertone of sweat. “I vill help you get back. That silly brat Superior Spell! He could have broken your ribs!”
“Almost feels like he did,” Bram said, leaning against her. Her coat was soft and warm, well groomed, muscles stretching and pulling underneath it as she moved at a slow walk. He patted her along her proudly arched neck, feeling her silky mane and the cold hardness of her metal and leather barding. “Where's Granch and Mewsette at, anyway?” He felt more than saw her answering shrug as the muscles rippled under her velvety coat. He looked skywards and caught sight of a darker shape against the stars growing larger as it descended towards them. “Never mind about Granch.”
“Never mind about Mewsette either,” a silky voice purred almost in his ear. Mewsette seemed to flow out of the forest night to walk alongside him. “Nightshade, looks like you found our missing foolish foals.” She cut her shining eyes from Nightshade to him. “Bram. Calmed down yet? Gotten over being angry because I kept a promise to another friend?”
“Mostly,” Bram answered after a few moments. With a rustle of wings Granch dropped down behind them all. Bram looked back at the griffon and cut off anything he might say with a, “Not entirely. Did you know about Cynthia and Volcano's real plans, Granch? About the dragons going to Mexico to fight and kill that big one in the news?”
“All the time,” Granch said easily. Bram stumbled and coughed. Granch added, “Whadda ya want, human? She told us ta keep you in the dark for as long as we could...”
“We've been doing a good job of it tonight,” Mewsette gave a purring laugh, joined by Nightshade's whicker and Granch's squawk-growl; Bram couldn't think of any better word to describe the sound he made. Mewsette added, “She also told us to knock you down and sit on you if you tried to follow her. Human,” she snarled as Bram began to complain, “Listen. For once. She is going into a war, she and all the other dragons. She's got Volcano and Tephra and all the trueborn dragons with her as well as most of the New Whelps. If they can't keep each other safe, what do you think you'll be able to do? And if you'd gone after them, what if they couldn't protect you as well as each other when they stop that monster?”
“Well, I --” Bram stopped as he thought, desperately. He mentally ran through everything he knew of that could wound or kill a dragon, and everything that could kill a human like him. The first list was much, much shorter than the second. “I don't want them to get hurt.” The other three had stopped as he spoke. “Can't you get that? I like them and I don't want to see them die.”
“You think we do?” Granch poked him in the chest, hard. Bram doubled up with a gasp. Granch sniffed. “You humans fall apart the first time you get hurt. What d'ya think is gonna happen if you chase after her an' Volcano an' Tephra an' ya get shot with one of those human bolt-throwers? Ya think the scalies are gonna have the time ta drag ya back ta some human hospital?” Bram looked up, anger and pain hot on his face. Granch was unimpressed. “Ya know it's the truth. When dragons decide ta fight, 'less you're an alicorn – or a griffon, a' course – you're a liability.”
Bram's self-control snapped. Today he'd been mocked, laughed at, frightened half to death, cut open, almost killed by a panicked pony, and lied to by people he called friends.
He'd had enough.
“I could take you, catbird,” Bram lashed out and slapped the griffon along his hooked beak. Granch's head snapped back, a little. “Hurt or not.”
He gulped when Granch looked back at him, the griffon's eyes burning with anger.
“Oh, really?” Granch set one foretalon against his chest and shoved him to the ground. Bram tried to get up, teeth set against the pain in his chest and head. Granch put a clawed foot on Bram's chest, held him down. He made it so casual it was insulting. Ignoring a wild punch that struck his chest, Granch hissed, “Ya want me ta show ya just who the badflank is here? Ponies flee – griffons FIGHT!”
Bram spat at him. Granch's eyes hardened as he raised the other forefoot high, a scaly hand tipped with five little curled knives. Mewsette looked horrified. Hot Trot was making herself scarce. And gentle, flirty, vain and silly Nightshade –
Was putting herself between Granch's talons and Bram.
“Granch!” He froze. She stood so close to him that Bram felt the velvety warmth of her body, smelled the tang of her sweat mixed with the sweetness of the perfume. She set one leathery wing over him, protectively. “Granch, Bram is right. Ve haff betrayed him and his trust, and now,” she lowered her head, long ears twitching, by Bram's face. “Now ve, I, make amends.”
They all watched in confusion as she set her head by Bram's face, putting one ear out to the side like she made it a target. Moonlight picked out her purple eyeshadow, lay in pools in her large eyes and ran silver fingers along her ebon-dyed flank.
“Bram, please to be biting ear.”
“What?” He blinked in confusion. Was this some weird pony kink he'd never heard of? “No! Why would you ask that?”
“Is how ponies are punished in herd when they wrong other pony. Like I did to that idiot newfilly.” Nightshade flicked her tufted Thestral ear at him. Her bat wings rustled as she stepped closer. “I, ve, haff lied to and betrayed some'vun who trusted us,” one wing flapped out at Mewsette and Granch, who both ducked to avoid a swat. “Ve haff wronged you. This is how I make amends for it.” She closed her eyes, shutting out their soft glow. “Please to be making it quick. And not too hard. Not v'ant hole in ear. Already haff piercings.”
Bram sighed, gave her velvet ear a soft tug, and let go. “Nightshade, no. Er, humans don't do ear biting, but thank you for the apology.” Nightshade smiled and rubbed her head against him gently. They both looked at Mewsette and Granch.
“Okay,” the Abyssinian huffed, her breasts bouncing distractingly as she folded her arms across them. “I apologize too. Not for keeping my word to a friend, but for lying to another.” Bram extended his hand. Mewsette took it in her own. He and the two ladies then looked at Granch.
“Glad that's settled, I was getting sick from all the sentiment.” Granch pushed his way past them. Nightshade snatched his tufted tail in her mouth. She bit down, hard. “Ow! Ya gotta do that, fang?” She just snorted and tossed her head at Bram, mane flapping. Granch rolled his eyes but turned around, grass and twigs underfoot crunching.. “Okay, human, I'm sorry I lied to ya. Even if ya did act like a dope there. I mean,” he puffed his chest out, “challenging me?”
“I'm glad I didn't have to settle it with you,” Bram said and meant it. He took a breath, it hurt a little less now, and looked around. “Hey, where did Hot Trot get off to?”
“How should I know?” Mewsette looked around “She said she was going back to the inn. Maybe she ran off again?”
Before she could say more, Nightshade rose into the air, her wings beating softly. “If she has,” the bat pony said, her eyes glowing in her anger, “this time I really vill teach her vhat ear-biting is!” She flapped off skywards, wings working hard for altitude to get above the trees. “Granch, come vit'!” The griffon crouched and leaped. Bram closed his eyes against the storm of small debris he raised as he rose after Nightshade into the moonlit night sky.
He looked at Mewsette, who shrugged and pointed down the trail back towards the inn. “Come on, human, and let's stick together this time. I don't envy either of those two foals when Nightshade catches them, the mood she's in right now...”
A scream ripped through the woods, high and wild and shrill. Bram choked and felt Mewsette's claws dig into his palm when she grabbed his hand. The scream's echoes died out, bouncing around and off the trees and rocks as it ended.
“Human,” feline eyes looked at him in terror. “What you said before, about Killer Schaumboch roaming the mountain... His victims screaming even now...”
Another scream, hard on the heels of the first. But now they both recognized it. Too long and drawn out to be human, with the high quavering tone of an equine.
Both came to the same conclusion at once.
“Nightshade found Hot Trot and she's tearing her apart!”
They raced as fast as they dared back for the inn, somehow keeping their footing through leaves and branches and stones underfoot in the dark. Bram had only one thought in his mind. Please, Lord, not another lawsuit! I don't think I could take it!
#
“SO!” Hot Trot snorted, ears pinned, eyes blazing, and wings fully spread in pegasus threat display, digging at the ground with one forehoof. Superior Spell backed away from her in terror until his flank butted against the pile of firewood.
“JUST A TAIL-LIFTING PHONY PONY, AM I? 'OH GO AHEAD AND EAT HER, NIGHTMARE MOON, BUT SPARE ME'?” She hurled herself after the unicorn colt, reared up to use her forehooves. “EAT THIS, JERK!”
The assembled multispecies kids cheered as she plunged onto the pleading unicorn and began beating the stuffing out of him with her hooves, right in front of the inn. Enraged whinnies and equine screams filled the air, along with ripped out tufts of unicorn tail and mane.
Bram walked over to Nightshade, who watched with amusement as the little blue Changeling nymph sat on her back contentedly munching some candy.
“So,” he asked, pointing at the battle. “When are you going to remind Trot to 'start acting like a pony' again?”
She turned her long-lashed green eyes on him. “Oh, human, dis is vhat any mare vould do if her coltfriend tossed her to monster to save own life.” She looked back at the fight and smiled wickedly, looking every inch the Nightmare. “Maybe two-t'ree more minutes.”
Bram turned and looked around the crowd of humans and ponies and dragons and griffons and more as they all enjoyed the humiliation Superior Spell was getting. With a sigh he leaned back against the wall of the hundred-year-old inn, the sound of Show Stopper's magics working inside as he repaired the damage, and looked into the clear night sky at a radiant full moon as the witching hour struck and one more Halloween became history.
THE END