Master Prize hated the heat. While the Saddle Arabian had been born and raised to the sands of his home nation, he never enjoyed the often oppressive dry heat that was so prevalent in his homeland. His mother had been a diplomat, and that had allowed him to be spoiled in the temperate climate of other more fortunate nations such as Equestria. It was a luxury he would often lord over the other foals in Riyolt whenever he had returned for the winter months, and even more relished it when his mother’s business took him to the much fairer countries he so envied.

In his fifty years since he left his mother’s herd he had not found purchase in establishing himself in those more pleasant nations that he preferred. His gambles of business seemed to tug him back constantly to the sands, to the misery of the heat.

It wasn’t for a lack of effort that kept him close to the accursed desert. But his business dealings seemed to always fall through. Lucrative opportunities dried up faster than spilled water. For years he just barely eked out a living, relying on his sole caravan to keep him and his employees afloat. Every route plotted, however, seemed to drag him deeper into debt. Deeper into the sands.

This also transitioned to his love life as well.

His prospects for a herd of his own also seemed to vanish as fast as a mirage. The mares of his nation judged harshly, and he was often left with the mostly homely of fillies darkening his door and warming his bed. It was as if he had been cursed to mediocrity from the day of his birth despite the station his mother had attained. Was he destined for this life of just enough?

Bitterly he suspected that the sands themselves had finally decided to claim him this day, the sandy blonde maned stallion gazed out at the approaching dust cloud, indicating they were not alone on the barely marked out trail to Zeygpt. That cloud was not a good sign, it often meant trouble, and in this area it often meant worse, Abyssians.

The nomadic cat-like creatures often raided along the travel routes between Zebrica and the rest of the world. Normally they stuck to the more well traveled paths that were clearly marked. Master had hoped that this route would be ignored, as it hadn’t been used in fifteen or so years. Another gamble lost.

He wondered what he would lose. Abyssians were a contentious lot. One never really knew what they would take. Sometimes it was just supplies, most often all of them. But it wasn’t unheard of for them to claim tribute of flesh. It had been centuries since the practice of taking the whole caravan had been abandoned. Master suspected that they had learned that if they killed all of the traders that came through these lands they would run out of prey quickly. So while he had little fear of losing his own life, as they often went for the underlings instead, he would have to watch as they dragged good mares and stallions away.

There was little doubt as to what awaited those unfortunate souls.

He called a halt, there was no point in trying to defend, the cats were often better equipped than the guards of caravans were, and the last ones to try and defend against them met a violent end to a mare and stallion, as a warning. Not even the foals had been spared.

Time to await what fate the sands held for him.

He had decided to sleep the harshest part of the day away. Considering what he paid in travel fees to the asshole Master Prize, he could take that liberty. Which was why he was annoyed to be awoken to shouting. He rubbed his pink furred muzzle trying to wake himself faster.

A shouting match seemed to be in progress. The language itself he could not place, it was harsh and seemed to be punctuated by hisses. There was a response, it was more in the form of pleading, without the hisses in it. That tone was recognizable as Master Prize.

“Dear fuckin’ God what did he do?”

Orion suspected that stallion had disrespected someone’s sacred land. It seemed on every route there were historical sites that were sacred to some such pony or zebra. It was annoying, and added hours if not days onto the travel time.

Thinking about it even now, he should have gone by ship, would have gone by ship. Except for some reason the Equestrian Royal fleet was operating in the Southern Celestial Sea, monitoring and often stopping ships from coming in and out of Zeygpt. For whatever reason, Equestria had taken an issue with the nation, his destination.

None of that mattered in the end. The only thing that did matter was he was unable to take the easy route. As being stopped, boarded and then discovered would not be good for him. Thus he had hitched a ride with Master Prize’s obviously failing caravan into the desert. All to avoid trouble.

The people who helped run and maintain the convoy of wagons were actually rather pleasant. Despite the sour nature of the owner, the wagon pullers and merchants were often an energetic lot. Putting a smile on his face at the oddest times.

His favorites were actually the guards. Their humor often aligning with him they would often be willing to share a rather powerful drink known as Zorkul, made of some cactus from the desert. They would often crack jokes and rib each other, and more often than not, he found himself among them.

How they ended up with such an inept, scamming, slimy, and all together awful employer was beyond him. But Master Prize was never going to win the coveted leader of the year award. Or decade.

He could only assume, as he slowly and quietly crawled out from one of the wagons in the rear making sure to keep the surprisingly cool scarf he had purchased just before his departure from Riyolt, that he had fucked up somehow. Now they were stuck, judging by the sun that burned his retinas, it was just coming into mid afternoon and they were not in an ideal place to camp. Turns out it was much worse than that.

What he was not expecting to see was a bunch of bipedal cats on some strange elongated lizard things practically surrounding the entire merchant train. Though he suspected that explained the hissing.

Looking about he took comfort that he had not really been noticed yet. Surreptitiously approaching the forward wagons, where all the shouting and pleading was taking place, he weaved through the carts grateful that Saddle Arabians were a tall and lanky people. The look of fear and apprehension caught his attention as he passed several of them. This wasn’t just a simple stop, nor some ruffians looking for an easy mark.

A guard backed into him, one who he recognized as Fair Gaze, she looked absolutely terrified. Her fur was matted in sweat foam as if she had run a thousand miles in the heat.

“Yo Fair, you okay? What's going on here?” He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her as she whirled about defensively. This was not the crude mare he had gotten to know the past five weeks of travel through the hellish landscape. Gone was the cocky jovial smile, just terror and a strange sort of resignation. Her blue eyes were almost dead looking.

“...the ab….abyssians.....” He barely heard her.

“Abyssians? Where have I heard that...na…” Instantly he remembered the warnings and documents he had to sign in order to even have the privilege of paying for this luxury trip.

The Abyssians were a race of nomadic cat-like beings. Bipedal like many of the species on Equis, this species was wholly carnivorous. Though there was rumor that they might eat certain plants, they preferred flesh overall. A chill rippled down his spine as he recalled a very strong rumor that all signs pointed to being true.

Abyssians had no qualms of eating other sapient races.

“Oh fuck me running…” He barely noticed his semi-friend quickly retreating further down the line. It didn’t matter, he knew the what, and likely the why now.

This left him with a choice to make. If the rumors were to be believed they only ever took a few if any. And no one of importance when they did. The question was, could he abandon these people if things got out of hand? Would he be one of those on the chopping block should the caravan master decide he was expendable in place of his people?

He shook his head. Best to make plans for any eventuality, but he was not about to choose a course of action. Not yet anyway. He needed more information. With that thought in mind he hitched up his scarf, and began to stalk from wagon to wagon, staying to the shadows of the tall cloth covered carts as he moved to the forefront.

This was a nightmare. Caliban, the name of the Abyssian that led this particular warband, wanted fifteen of his workers and or guards as tribute. He had pleaded to trade with the cat with the goods he was loaded down with, but the old tom had dismissed the notion.

“Listen you worthless pile of carthic shit. My soldiers are very hungry, what good will your goods do to feed their bellies.” He leaned down into Master’s face, towering over the panicking stallion. “You have nothing I want, and you are making me consider increasing tribute. I have not the time nor the desire to debate with you. Unless you have something exotic to give me, I will have what I am owed.”

“You are owed nothing, all you do is take you mange infested beast!” He could not bring himself to speak those words. He cursed his own cowardice. This was a disaster. He had been lucky to never have encountered a warband before. Of course he had known of the rumors, but to hear the dreaded words actually spoken aloud, to his face no less, was a new kind of terror. Not only would he be ruined, but he had to pick which ones they would take!

He could not bear that responsibility. He would never sleep another night peacefully knowing he had a hand in the death of fifteen innocent souls.

His panicked mind seized on something. “Exotic?” Mr Barrel Underhill! That damnable, pain in the flank pink stallion was his way out of this mess. Sure he would feel bad. But he did not like him. The unicorn had been nothing but trouble and demanded all kinds of concessions. Nevermind the fact that he paid well and knew the value of his coin. “He did sign the ‘Death and Dismemberment’ contract after all.”

It was a contract that any traveler was required to sign when going across the sands with a caravan. Even the employees under him had to sign it. The stallion had spent several hours arguing and haggling with him over the contract and payment. If the riyal had not been so desperately needed, he would have thrown the young unicorn out of his office. Now it seemed the stallion would be of some use after all.

“If….if I may, I do have something you might want more than my own employees.” He nearly shrieked at the sharp look in Caliban’s eyes as the wiry old cat stared him down.

“I’m listening…” He practically hissed. “But be warned, if I am not pleased with this offer, you will be coming with us as well. Speak son of a worm!” He spat.

“Before my departure from Riyolt, I took on a passenger.” He hurried on as the warband leader’s face darkened. “A unicorn. Pink with a pure blond mane. He is well muscled from what I remember. Would you be interested in that?” His voice gained confidence as the old cat’s eyes seemed to light up.

“Now you have my attention.” He grinned, and the true negotiations for his people’s lives began. This time, with a chance of saving more of them then he thought possible. Sure he would take a hit on his reputation, but he would sleep well knowing he did the best he could for his own. Buck the pony.

“Jesus this caravan is longer than I thought!” He never had cause to move through the whole convoy before, and now he wished they had not gone single file.

It had been more than a few hours since he started moving carefully among the wagons. He had to stop several times and avoid the eyes of the Abyssians who had taken positions up on the dune above the caravan train.

The good news, is these guys were so self assured they were overconfident. Which made them lazy as hell. The bad news was that there were so many of them. Which made it difficult for him to move in the open. He often spent up to half an hour sitting behind a wheel, waiting for them to get distracted so he could move forward. During those long waits he took stock of what was against them.

The warband seemed to not be that large. In fact the number of guards compared to the cats was three or four to one, not that it mattered considering most if not all ponies were less than confrontational. However, what lent any confrontation in favor of the felines was almost every single Abyssian that he could see was mounted on some type of strange ugly ass bipedal lizard. They bore dark tan stripes from neck to tail.

To him they looked like pug velociraptors. Skimpily armored in pieces of strips of leather with banded metal to hold it all together and a leather saddle, these creatures stood tall. The eyes didn’t quite sit in the face properly, but the most worrying part were the claws on the forearms. Long sickle looking hooks that filled his mind with the uncomfortable thoughts of what those would feel like digging into flesh.

The cats, Abyssians he had to remind himself, were as ugly as their mounts. He didn’t know if it was this lot, or the entire species, but they bore the same flat-like face as the lizards. He had to laugh to himself, they looked like the house cats back in his word. The ones with the flat faces and derpy expression. Only these had a perpetual scowl, even when smiling. The teeth certainly didn’t help their situation. Jagged and unevenly spaced, they were in serious need of a dentist.

Like most ponies of Saddle Arabia, they came in a variety of browns. Likely easier to blend in with rocks and sand that way. Yay evolution. They all wore leather armor, as mismatched as it was, that covered most of their bodies quite effectively. The wicked spears and swords reminded him of the old style of Arab weaponry from his world.

All things tallied up, despite the caravan’s numerical advantage and defensive position, these cats were more than capable of taking the entire wagon line by force if necessary.

He grimaced, there might be a slim chance of victory, but it would all depend on timing and if he could get Master Prize to cooperate. Which likely meant no chance if it came down to a fight.

About halfway to the front of the wagons he was stopped by another guard. Quick Wit was not his name sake. Friendly, if a bit slow in the up stairs, Quick always seemed to be in the know of what was going on. Orion wished he didn’t know anything now.

“Barrel...Um...I...I hate to...um…” He looked down and pushed on. “Master has struck a bargain, five of ours are going to the Abyssians.” He said it like it was a foregone conclusion. “And….you. I’m here to take you to them.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. That asshole had actually sold him out? He sold him out to be eaten by a bunch of cats. "The fuck."

“So, he is just going to let them take what they want?”

“Ye-yeah. My friend, this is the only way. They will kill us all. I’m sorry....” He hadn’t made a move yet, clearly not wanting to do what he was told to do. The fact that he was so resigned meant they had lost the will to fight the moment they were surrounded. But he still had to ask.

“None of you want to fight?” The words passed through his lips numbly, his mind racing for a way out of this. He could teleport, but he would be lost in the desert and likely starve to death. Or die of dehydration, whichever of his supplies he runs out of first. They will likely knock him out once they got a hold of him so no chance of fighting back before it was too late.

“Well, yeah. Many are arguing for that. But Master Prize won’t have any of it. We don’t want to lose anypony, but what can we do?” Defeat. No sword had been swung and they had embraced defeat. Then he had a thought.

They were willing to fight? But Mr Greedy was not letting them? He grinned and pulled off the straps of his bag. Unhitching the clasps on the side he pulled out a small box. “I can give us a chance, and make other fuck-head felines think twice about raiding another route. Here’s what I need you to do…” He flipped the box lid open revealing more than thirty metal vials with a little red button on the top. As he spoke, his slow witted friend started to smile, even he it seemed, could appreciate the plan being set into motion.

It wasn't just him either. Other Saddle Arabians had started to gather around, many of them nodding. More than one grim smile adorned the faces of the once terrified people. He handed over one the vials. A plan had been made. Let's see if they could pull it off.

The sun had just gone down past the dunes, and only its warm glow had remained to light up the quickly darkening sky. Master Prize was getting nervous, it had been over two hours since he had sent the fool Quick to find Barrel Underhill. Two hours of sweating nervously wondering if the stallion had caught wind to what was happening and had already left the caravan to try his luck surviving the desert.

He had managed to barter the lives of his ponies down to only five, and the stallion. It was the best he could do, but he had saved more employees than he imagined he would. Now all that was left was to wait. The delay only let him stew on his own actions. Regret already eating away at him.

“Better him than the others, oh I wish he was the only one.” Truth be told he would rather not have had to give him up either. He had been hoping to avoid any trouble by taking this almost forgotten route. He blinked. “When had the wagons lined up side by side?”

Indeed they had been moved side by side, and were very close together. Most of his guards were between the gaps in the wagons. A flash of metal in the dying light of the sun. The pull teams were carrying blades.

“What under the Sun is going on?”

It struck him then. His ponies had decided to ignore his orders, and fight rather than bear the guilt of sending anypony to their deaths. They were ignoring his commands entirely. The chill he felt had not come from the cooling night air.

He glanced at Caliban, the tom had a bored look on his face and was not even looking at him. Master thought furiously, how could he get out of this and get back to the not so apparent safety of the wagon line?

“That blasted Quick! How long does it take to find one bucking stallion not employed by me!? He’s pink for buck sake!” He raged, anger both being real and feigned all at once. “Excuse me Warchief, but if you want something right then you have to do it yourself it seems.” He made to walk away.

“Hold it.” The command wasn’t loud, but it stopped him in his tracks as if he was bound with chains. “Tourmil go with the good Master Prize. Make sure he brings me back my price.”

Tourmil wasn’t a large cat. But the milky white left orb that stared out of the old grizzled veteran’s scared face chilled him to the bone. Being unable to reject the offer he nodded and stiffly made his way to his wagons. The Abyssian stalking behind him.

“Barrel!” A fierce whispered shout pulled him from instructing some of the wagon crews.

“What?! Can’t you see I’m trying to save our fucking lives! What now?” He all but roared whispered back. Organizing a defense was far harder than he thought it would be. Every problem solved only brought a new issue to the forefront. Not to mention his little ‘army’ knew even less than him about armed combat between groups. If they all survived it would be a miracle.

Shining wasn’t lying when he said it was easier to plan for an attack than to hold a location. Even fortified a million things could go wrong.

“I guess you didn’t want to know if Master started coming down to us before we were ready for this mad idea of a fight you had.” Fair sarcastically replied. She seemed to have rallied to the idea of fighting rather than letting the Abyssians take what they wanted. It was good to see the helplessness that had been painted on her face all but gone now.

In fact, most if not all these ponies had taken to the idea like flies to honey. Those that didn’t were being watched. Their lives on the line, not a one could alert anyone else with the zealotry of the guards set over them. Weapons were placed by them, a risk, but he would not allow them to sit by without being able to fight back when the time came and all hell broke loose.

“Shit. Not unexpected but a little too soon…fuck.” He grimaced and shooed the teams away, hoping they understood the gist of what they were supposed to do. At the same time he stepped out of the way as the canvases that had been hastily sewn together made its way down the center between the wagons. Poles dragged with them and the team working were careful to keep them from being tucked under the thick cloth.

“I guess it doesn’t matter, we are nearly ready. Anyone with him?” He glanced around making sure there were no last minute issues that he needed to attend to.

“Yeah, a cat. Old looking bastard too.” Her returning foul language made him smile. She might complain, but she was starting to sound eager for this fight. Twenty years of being a caravan guard in some capacity, and this night she was about to fulfill an item on her bucket list.

“Well that’s a complication. They are likely looking for me.” He was close to the front of the wagons, no time to hide and prolong things. “Okay, let the squad teams know we are about to begin. Say a prayer for whatever fuckin’ deity you believe in.” He moved past her and hid himself under a wagon. Time to see if this worked as he hoped. He shook his head. All this trouble, he should have just teleported out and took his chances.

Master Prize and his new shadow walked into the wagon line at a brisk pace. He could not understand what he was seeing. It looked like they had ruined most if not all of the tents in sewing together one massive tent that was now laid out in between the wagons. Rather than draw attention to the blaring irregularity, he chose to act like it was nothing.

“Do you normally set up for the night this way?” The gravelly voice of the Abyssian behind him purred.

“Oh, uh yes! Yes this way we can keep an eye on everypony in the caravan and no thieves may get away with any ill gotten goods.” It was a weak excuse for not knowing what the buck was going on and throwing out a lie in hopes to be believed was his only hope. They were in the wagons proper now. He was determined to find the pink bastard of a unicorn and put a stop to this foolishness before it got worse.

“This is wise. Much smarter than most ponies I have stalked.” The chill he felt at the word ‘stalked’ snaked up his spine. “You keep a better eye on your people, this is good I think.”

“Uh, I thank you.” He didn’t know how to respond.

“Tell me Master Prize. How do you know the unico-hurrk arrgghhhh!” The strangled cry from behind him spun him about as he tripped on his own hooves and fell over. Looking up he saw a pink arm wrapped around Tourmil’s throat. The body shuddering from blows to the back.

Suddenly all struggle went out from the cat, and his body slumped to the ground, a dagger standing out from it’s ribs. The Abyssian was dead. Mr Underhill stood before him covered in the feline’s blood. Hands shaking but the glare on his face was very hard to ignore.

“What have you done!? They will kill us all for sure!” He whimpered out, ashamed of his own voice betraying his fear. The stallion ignored him. Glaring instead at the ponies who paused in shock at the casual assassination of the once intimidating feline.

“The fuck are y’all staring at? This is the end game now folks. No going back, get to your positions!” He looked down at him. “I am going to try and save your people you fuck-head. Stay under a wagon, and stay out of the way.”

He was losing control. The thought made anger boil in his mind. Grabbing the worthless stallion he screamed into his pink face. "This is MY CARAVAN!" He roared, spittle flying from his lips. "You can't just-"

His world went into a spin. Before he realized it he was painfully slammed against a wagon wheel, his jaw screaming in pain. The unicorn he had grabbed had now grabbed him by the throat, staring murder into his eyes. A squeeze and his vision went blurry almost instantly.

"Listen here you sack of shit. You tried to sell my ass out for a happy meal to the dickbags on that ridge. You also were resigned to allow some of your own be served up as BBQ appetizers on the spit. You lost the right to lead anything the moment you gave up and accepted your peoples fate." Another harder squeeze, the hand holding him trembled. "We are going to save ourselves. Not only this caravan, but others that come later. By bloodying the noses of these fuckers, we set the precedent that maybe, just maybe, they shouldn't fuck with ponies anymore."

A single last shove and Mr Underhill had released him.

"Now do as your told. And stay outta my goddamn way."

He marched past without so much as another glance.

“What just happened?” It was the only thought in his head as he crawled under a wagon and watched as they dragged the still warm corpse of Tourmil away.

It did not take the Abyssians ten minutes to realize something was very wrong. Soon enough there was shouting coming from a particularly large cat on the ridge, but Orion had noted with a rueful smile that they had not bothered to close the distance between the two groups. Yet.

From what he could gather from a still petrified Master Prize, they were calling for the one that had followed after the caravan owner. The one he had repeatedly stuck a knife into. So they gave him back. One of the biggest mares he had ever seen in his life, outside of the Isles of Maroe and the one solider who worked with Errant Strikes, did the honor of giving Tourmil back.

The body flew through the air to land a dozen or so paces from the feet of the stunned leader, whom he later learned was a warband chief known as Caliban.

Well, that just set them all off in a frenzy. It was really amusing to see the spittle fly from their lips as they raged and cursed the caravan. One of them flew into such a blind fury that he slammed his own head into his shield repeatedly. It was sheer insanity.

It took another ten or so minutes for the warchief to get them together to mount an assault. A volley of arrows went up in flight but never reached the ponies inside the wagon line. The stitched together tent went up on the long tent poles as one and deflected or caught most if not all arrows. Only a few suffered anything more than a graze. It was truly a miracle.

Then came the charge.

“MR UNDERHILL! THEY ARE COMING!!!”

The shout echoed in repeat down the line to his ears. After the second volley of arrows the Abyssians abandoned the effort in favor of surrounding and charging in on all sides. The moment of truth was upon them all.

“REMEMBER THE PLAN! AND FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON'T FORGET TO DUCK!!!” He roared back. The moment the battle line closed to fifty meters, the caravan’s own guards let loose a volley of their own arrows, out from under the temporary shield of the tent they flew right into the enemy’s forward line. The entire first row dropped like ragdolls.

That did not dissuade the cats one bit. Which would have been bad if it had. On they charged and Orion grinned as he pressed the red metal button on top of his cylinder.

“READY!” He heard the shuffling and the clicking of several of the devices around him. He had only thirty-five of the little tubes of metal, so he had them distributed evenly around the defensive line. “SET!” The defensive canopy snapped up into the air. He hadn’t wanted to risk them hitting the lip of the cloth and bouncing back. “RELEASE! DUCK!”

As one everyone that had one, threw the little tubes into the air to land amongst the surprised line of cats. Who were all dumb enough to look at what had been thrown, even their mounts had been distracted by the metal shining in the dull moonlight. Their world erupted in a deafening roar of light and sound that turned their advantage of sight and hearing oh so advanced, into a liability they never knew they could have.

“ALRIGHT! TAKE ‘EM-”

“Wait a minute! What were those metal tubes?” This had been the sixth time he had been interrupted.

“God-fucking-damn it Twilight! Wait till after the story is done before you pepper me with questions! Fucking hell…” Orion grumbled as he took a sip of his coffee. It had taken him the better part of half an hour to tell that much and she had taken every little break in the story to pepper him with what he believed where inane questions. Like why he was now pink, what was he doing heading to Zegypt, all that nonsense.

Then there was the other room’s occupant.

“Well to be fair darling, you haven't even explained how you got here. Or what happened to you after you escaped Canterlot.” Rarity sat elegantly in white bodice with a plunging neckline that hadn’t been there an hour ago.

“Oh goddamnit.”

In truth he had been hoping to avoid the telling of the dumb fuckery that was his life after he had managed to flee the capital city and the nation as a whole. He should have known better.

“I have to agree with Rarity. You completely ignored me the first time I asked. Now please. Orion, how did you survive?” In her hands was a quill and scroll from seemingly nowhere. “Also, are you not banned from Prance?”

He rubbed his face as he groaned both internally and verbally.

It had literally been pure chance for him to run into the pair of them in Paris. Of all places for these two mares to be, it was in the shopping district, though considering who one of the pair were, it was not surprising. Further complications was the fact that somehow, Rarity recognized him. His disguise fooled many, but had not fooled the fashionista. Likely because there was still the large scar that ran across his face.

Ponies in general were unobservant in most cases. But Eagle-eye McGee here picked him off in a crowded intersection and they proceeded to follow him to the coffee shop, simply known as ‘Qahua’, that they now sat in one the private balconies of.

After the initial accusations, followed by the awkward shuffling them against their will into this room, they had hugged and greeted one another as old friends did. Then the questions had come. And come flying.

“Unlike Rarity, most people are unobservant as hell. I’m still shocked at how you picked my pink ass out of a crowd like that.” This hadn’t been the first time he had used the potions provided by that rhyming zebra mare to hide himself among the populace. Though he was running low, maybe he should have asked for more before leaving the Everfree.

“Darling, it wasn’t just the scar I noticed. You have that look in your eye that anypony who has known you for a time can easily place. Any designer worth their art would have been able to do it. Though I am curious, why pink? Of all the colors a deep blue would have been more your style.”

Through gritted teeth, “Because it was random to the batch made. The next batch of potions could turn me seagreen who the fuck knows!” He all but shouted out, grateful that Twilight had casted a sound blocking barrier of some kind.

“Language.”

“Oh screw you! You're not my mom.” He huffed back at Rarity.

“ANYWAY.” Twilight loudly interrupted. Probably for the best. In his current mood he might just toss Rarity into the fountain below. “Let’s get back on track. Orion. Please. Tell us, from the beginning, what have you been doing the last six years.”

“Fine, but tit for tat. You tell me about your own lives, and how the hell did you got involved with that Nightmare Moon fiasco. Also what have you both been up to since the castle. Deal?” He held out his hand.

It was apparent that neither mare wanted to speak on the events of that month long disaster that had pulled him back from Zebrica, with Zecora in tow.

“Fine.” They shook, and she smiled. “But you first.”

“Fuck.” So he settled into the seat and rang the bell for more coffee. “So you had passed out on the rocks…”

Author's Note

Welcome back folks!

I don't know about you but I am happy to be writing more of Orion's story. The three weeks I took off made me a little stir crazy. Monster Hunter Rise, while fun, did not fill the hole in my heart to entertain others.

Y'all are gonna find some weird ass issues in this first chapter. But I promise the answers will all come out in the following chapters.

While the story does start off as the perspectives of Twilight, Rarity and Orion. There will be more to it than just them. More viewpoints, such is your privilege as the reader.

Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. Please remember to like, comment, send me pictures of your animals, or even do a little dance.

As always, thanks for reading.

Oh and by all means leave a like, a comment, a strongly worded message to your internet provider.

Peace.