The Hunter's Trek

The Hunter’s Trek

Chapter 1: The Hunter

The night.

To the most common of creatures, the night is a time of rest and replenish. A time where they need not worry till the morning unless they fear what could come for them in the middle of their slumber.

To those who stay up for a little longer after dark, it is a peaceful, quiet and serene sight to behold. The stars twinkling in the inky black that made up the sky, the soft chirp of crickets singing a sort of lullaby and the moon in which night makes sacred.

As for the hunters, they take to the shadows and, well, they hunt. They see the night as the darkest point in which to make their hunting ground, where unsuspecting prey tries to find comfort and safety in the night’s protective darkness.

There was one such hunter who was admiring the scene before him, in the safety of a tree branch high up and away from the Everfree forest’s floor.

His clothing was dark in colour, to help him hide among the shadows during his hunts. He wore a long overcoat, which left a bit of the fabric dangling over the side of the branch, with a hood sewn into it to cover his face. The figure wore dark boots with a metal lining on his feet and a pair of pants made of cloth and leather as protection, a quiver full of arrows strapped to his right leg. Two sheathed short swords hung from a red, leather belt roped around his waist. Clinging to the overcoat’s sides were two Nordic axes and two throwing axes just behind. Above the axes, he wore a round, wooden shield with an iron rim. A blowpipe fit snuggly underneath the shield itself with small feathers decorating it.

The hunter was not just enjoying the peace of the night. No, he had prey, and he was simply waiting for them to come to him.

A rustle of leaves drew his attention and four cloaked figures had emerged from a brush covering a hidden path, on which they followed. Most of these new arrivals had the tell-tale sign of the unicorn’s horn. Others would’ve either hid their extra appendages under their cloak or had none at all.

There was one, however, that stood out. They had a sack over their head, so it was impossible to put a face on who was hidden underneath if you didn’t know who it was already. That was his target, he knew for sure. They knew whose face was underneath the sack, they were the ones that had put her in that situation. And the pony was not being quiet at all.

“I swear, once I’m free you’ll all be sorry!” Of course, all she screamed was nothing but empty threats considering her position, but that did not stop her from making them.

The cloaked hunter watched as they passed - unable to see him as they were too focused in shutting up the mare whilst trying to navigate the dark - and slowly started to creep across the branch, where he promptly jumped to another, barely making a sound beside the rustle of leaves as he moved to stalk them. He had to make sure they got to their destination before he struck so as not to raise any suspicion with any of their friends. He had also heard that one of their leaders was going to be there.

They eventually came to an old ruin, the mare never ceasing in her screaming and thrashing, where the walls had been obviously fixed as old stone stood out to pristine, recently carved stone. Fortunately, they had not gotten to fixing the roof yet, giving him a clear window to look through and observe.

The room the cloaked ponies were using was fitted with bits of cloth in the colour of a deep red, green or purple, some even having an image of pure green eyes, purple mist leaking out from them.

A few candles littered the ground, some nearly blown out, while others looked like they had recently been placed down. They were surrounding a rune that seemed to serve as the base for a ritual about to take place. The rune looked to be drawn in a star pattern that did not stop at the ring around most of it, the points seeming to escape the circle and walk up the wall. The walls themselves had bits of moss here and there from ageing, where it was not being occupied by cloth or chalk, or part of the repairs. Finally, a throne made of a dark metal and wood sat at the far side of the room atop some stairs. The throne itself held an aura of evil, with the backrest spiked and jagged as it was. Cushions of red adorned the throne, only serving as the only amount of comfort one might get from the chair.

“Ah, finally you have arrived with our young guest here,” a silhouette spoke up, as he drifted a hoof up to point at the mare as she was brought into the room and unceremoniously thrown to the middle of the pentagram.

As he slowly rose, light from the candles and sconces around the room shone on the figure, revealing a stallion with greyish-white fur and a darker red mane, he wore a cloak, although the hood was pulled back, like the others but with a fur lining on the edge, much like a royal cape. His eyes were blood-red with purple mist flowing from the green of his cornea. A clear sign in the use of dark magic. A small crown, one might find a child with, sat atop his head, the metal reflecting the candlelight of the room.

The hunter watched the unicorn approach the mare while he continued to speak, a small blade pocketed in a sheath glinting every now and then when light made its way inside his cloak.

“Tonight, is the night, my brothers and sisters, that we bring the king back from the ashes. And on this night, he will bring a new rule to Equestria. And when the Sisters fall, so too will the Empire, on which our king shall make his new rule an- “

“What’s with all you ponies trying to foalnap me, then you tell me your plan to overthrow the Princesses, and then expecting everything to go right?” All eyes in the room fell on the mare as she spoke, not a single creature making a sound, surprised on how quickly her tone had shifted from screaming with frustration to a completely calm voice.

The hunter, using the opportunity to act, unsheathed his blowpipe and load it with a bristled, bone dart, taken from one of the pockets situated on his cloak.

“And you have to be the worst group who have tried foalnapping me this mouth.”

The crowned stallion looked at her in confusion, “Tried?”

He was about to retort, but at that moment, one of the cloaked ponies had hit the floor. ‘One down,’ Everyone present in the room froze, and one of the ponies closest had gotten a little too close to their unconscious comrade, that when they took one step toward them, they too hit the floor, a dart visibly sticking out of their neck.

For a second more the room was quiet, eyes darting everywhere until one pair of eyes landed on a bird. The bird was like nothing they had seen before, and it would not have gone noticed if it were not for its red eyes and what few white feathers were on its utter black feathers. Feathers that, if not for the white, would have made it seemed invisible during the cold night of the Everfree.

The leader’s eyes stayed on the near-camouflaged bird when the mare had broken the silence by saying “With all this silence, I’ll take a gander and say he’s here now”.

That was when a thud had resonated throughout the room. All eyes shot to their now unconscious leader, laying underneath a figure, hooded much like themselves, but standing just a few inches short as the famous Sun Princess.

held his fists in the air, ready to fight when a horn was blown and seconds later five more - unhooded this time and wearing a light, metallic armour - cultists joined the fray. They themselves came from the front door, looking a lot tougher and battle-trained than the rest, not that they did not know how to fight themselves.

The first pony charged; their head held down, hoping to skewer him on his horn, or at least something to that effect. Yet this was not the first time he had delt with these cult members or other cults for that matter. And so, it was easy for him to sidestep the charging stallion, grab his horn and promptly smash him muzzle first into the stone-cold floor beneath him. He threw the pony back, where he staggered and fell on his rump, dazed.

Through that time, one of the other armoured ponies had tackled him in the side. He stumbled for a bit, trying to gain a sense of balance before he righted himself on his feet and looked toward his assailant.

That was when he felt a strike take his jaw.

When he came back to his senses, the hunter looked back towards the whole of the group he was facing off against. Hs jaw still ached, but that did not matter right now.

He changed his stance, his back most foot being brought more to the back. He studied his opponents, two pegasi on the right, one earth and unicorn pony to the left, and that dazed unicorn still in the middle of the fray, most likely still trying to recover.

The other cultists seemed to have left. ‘They aren’t much of a problem. I‘m sure Ternychus will draw enough attention to them in town,’ After that thought, he got ready for the upcoming fight.

A pegasus charged straight for him, probably looking to get as lucky as his friends. Unlucky for him, the hunter struck out with his foot, stopping his charge and instead sent him crashing into the wall on the far side of the room.

The remaining ponies started to grab weapons of any kind to fight with, be it a random pole on the floor or blocks of old timber from the runs. ‘Well, if they wish to fight with arms…’ The hunter reached behind his overcoat and brought out a vaguely bow-like contraption. It definitely looked like a bow, if bows were made without the common arc and had ten centimetres of string on it. It more looked like an arm launcher than anything.

He jerked his hand forward and the contraption was revealed to indeed be a bow. But he didn’t stop there. He moved his hand up to where the string was hooked and unstrung it from its hook, causing the bow to snap together into a staff, which he twirled around before setting it to rest pointing toward the last of the still conscious group.

After the bow-turned staff had finished unfolding, the first of the armed ponies struck forward with a large piece of rotted timber held aloft in her magic, which was then blocked by the hunter’s staff and thrown as far to the side as he could muster. He then struck the unicorns horn, her magic fizzling out and the timber fell to the ground. He spun around and knocked her hooves out from under her, causing her to fall on her face.

He quickly struck the side of the mare’s head with the end of his staff before another pony, this time a pegasus with a polearm in their hooves, swung the polearm up and towards the hunter. He blocked the polearm and strained to keep himself grounded under the force the pegasus was applying to the weapon.

Out of the corner of his peripheral, a second pony was heading towards him, a broken pole, jagged tip, somewhat like a spear. Before the head pierced his flesh, the hunter jumped back, forcing the pegasi to fall forwards and crash into their friend.

Before they had a chance to get up, he too two darts out of a pouch on his coat, and the blowpipe off his back and shot them both.

All was silent as the last of them fell. The hunter got to work tying up all of those he could, attaching a magical beacon to one of the unicorn’s horn.

All that was left was his target.

The lavender pony had ceased in her struggles and kept quiet during the entire fight. He stopped for a moment to question to himself as to how this individual became so popular in the kidnapping department.

“Can you hurry up? I want to go home.” The mare complained. In response, the hunter grabbed the bag and too it off her head, “Finally. And here I thought you were going to leave me here.” He then went around to her hooves and untied her.

And speaking for the first time that night, the hunter replied with “No man left behind.”

“I guess I never will understand you…”

After the mare had stood up, it became easier for anypony to recognise her. Over the years of her stay in Ponyville, she had become a hero to Equestria. Her lavender coat, navy mane with dual colours of pink and purple and even her cutie mark, a six-pointed star with five smaller, white ones surrounding it, became iconic across the country. Known only as the unicorn mage; Twilight Sparkle, student to the princess of the sun herself.

“Come on. Let’s get you home, Sparkle,” the hunter called to get her attention, in what could only be described as an emotionally flat voice.

The two spent the next few minutes walking through the forest. The path they took was enchanted to repel the forest’s most dangerous creatures, so often to duo would notice a peaceful critter or two resting, or taking a quick bite before scurrying of, n the middle of the path, clearly well aware of this fact.

When the two finally reached the Golden Oak Hotel, renovated curtesy of Twilight Sparkle herself, they spotted a dark, slouching Silhouette in the lit-up doorway of the hotel. As they got closer to the silhouette, it turned out to be a baby dragon, clearly up longer than he would be used to.

The baby dragon had finally realised who had walked up to the door, where his expression had changed to one of mild anger. He lifted a claw to the air, too a step forward, opened his mouth to yell and fell to the ground, sleep finally overtaking him.

The purple and green dragon started lightly snoring and Twilight scooped hm up in her magic, placing hm on her back, “Oh, Spike…” she said softly. She then turned towards the hunter to say a farewell, only to find herself alone.

She shrugged her shoulders, knowing she would see the man in the morning, and went inside to a peaceful sleep.