The Mystery of the Iron Bird Festival

"Who?! Who dared to steal the remains of an Iron Bird?!"

A little more, and Princess Twilight would have lit up with anger, in the truest sense of the word. The poor unicorn guardian, who brought such bad news, shrank into a small ball.

"Go away."

The guard seemed to be blown away by the wind.

Who could have stolen… Does this pony really think that he can create an artifact from the skeleton of an Iron Bird? Fool, if it is so… At least, I hope so.

Power and power did not allow the princess to get everything she wants at the behest of the horn. Neither the guards nor the special squad could stop those ponies. Well, it's time to start investigating yourself.

Flashing her horn, Twilight teleported to her office. Taking off her royal regalia, she threw on a gray cape with a fibula of a white alicorn. The moment and the pony are gone. Few people knew that Twilight was working on the amulet of the alicorn so that evil would not penetrate the carrier. There was enough of such power for the almost endless supply of the created invisibility cloak.

Opening the window, the pony rose into the air with the help of mighty wings. Her drive and perseverance led her forward to adventure.

***

My heart was thudding in my chest from what I saw. After taking a few steps to the corpse, Kramarenko was able to make sure that she would not get up again. Slowly lowering his hand with a pistol, the pilot noticed a small pile of gold coins on the table. When he got closer, he examined the coinage of a pony with a horn on them.

Turning back, as if someone would reproach him for stealing, Kramarenko scraped off all the gold and stuffed it into his pockets. The dead don't need it anymore. Now, if you jump up, there will be a soft clink of coins. This is not very good for a lonely traveler, but there were no other options yet.

Rummaging through the shelves in the cabinets, the pilot was able to find a lot of necessary, but now useless, things. Of all the junk, I liked a white saddlebag, and clean sheets with pencils. Kramarenko immediately put the stationery and a good half of the coins in the bag. It remains to find provisions. But on the threshold of the room, he suddenly noticed a strange cut in the wall.

"It must be a safe," thought the pilot of the downed MiG.

Not very noticeable in the dark, it was not locked. Either his mistress was sure that locks were unnecessary, or they were not so necessary here at all. In any case, I wanted to open this safe even out of pure curiosity. Inside, oddly enough, it turned out to be the most valuable thing for a person — a map. Let it be impossible to read the names of settlements and cities, but the fact that there is a civilization, and it is relatively close from here. Well, it's time to get out of here.

Carefully walking through the house, the pilot reached the kitchen. Everything that was needed was right in front of my eyes. Bread, vegetables and water bottles that were found on the shelf went into the same bag. The bulging saddlebag wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than nothing.

Quietly and without incident, getting out of the hut, the man moved towards the city. Now he is ready for it, now he has the strength to overcome the path to the goal. And the goal was the only one: to get out of here as soon as possible and, of course, to return to the base of his air division.

***

Moving quickly through the grain fields, a lonely man came out on a dusty road. A crooked track a fathom wide led up the hill. The chances of getting lost were minimal, since the clouds had passed and now the Moon was lighting the way.

Humming a cheerful song to himself, the pilot saw his native land, a quiet and peaceful life. Even what happened already seemed like some kind of dream, a nightmare that was dispelled by a warm breeze. Somewhere far away, perhaps in the depths of the rhythmic heart, fear has settled. He was strong, but as long as the pilot firmly believed in salvation, he would not get out. Kramarenko did not know about how he would come back, not about how he should be now. Solving problems as they came and hoping for a chance, he moved forward.

The kilometers traveled made themselves felt, and the pilot did not turn away from them, making stops. All night Kramarenko beat off the earth of another world with his boots. A light twilight caught him when he finally saw the city. It looked more like a village than a real city. No paved roads, no moats and walls for you. But their development should be at the level of the late Middle Ages, judging by what they saw. Although, some things were like from another era.

Accustomed to the hardships of war, it was not the first time for the pilot to lack sleep, but now and here he could afford it. You just need to find an inn or rent a room for a day from the locals. Looking around in search of a hotel, Kramarenko himself did not notice how he came out into an empty square. In the center there was a monument to some kind of queen or queen. Expensive regalia and an important pony pose hinted at this. Strangely, she had wings and a horn.

I've never heard of such a thing. the thought about the race of this monarch slipped through.

After standing, the pilot walked on. A shadow passed somewhere behind the house. Kramarenko clearly began to feel the surveillance. But he did not give hints that the spy was noticed.

The first thought was to abruptly go around the corner and meet there. But after a little reflection, I realized that he might not be alone.

Besides, I simply don't have time to get out and point the gun, as I'm lying down with a fink under the rib.

But everything was resolved without human action. Two foals ran out to meet the pilot. Two pairs of large eyes stared at the frozen foreigner. Fear and surprise, but even more curiosity was reflected in them.

Kramarenko smiled and whispered, as if they could understand something from his speech:

"Quiet, quiet. I won't hurt you. Don't be afraid of me."

The foals did not run, and the pilot slowly squatted down, simultaneously removing the saddlebag from his tired shoulder. Taking out a piece of paper and a pencil, he began schematically drawing a bed. The little ponies looked at the unusual way of communication with surprise. Kramarenko once again pointed his finger at himself, and then at the drawing. The pioneer foals looked at each other with a smile and nodded synchronously to the man in the tunic who sat down.

Having slipped through, the kids galloped forward along the street. Quickly throwing his writing materials, the man strode after him. Led by the little ponies, the pilot went out to an inconspicuous porch. After knocking on the carved door, Kramarenko turned to the foals standing behind him. Bending down, he patted their mane and took out a gold roundel from his pocket, handed it to the children. But they did not accept the gift and waved a hoof goodbye, galloped somewhere.

I wonder what they are up to at such a time? If I was at home, I would have thought that we went fishing, al went grouse.

The creaking door didn't let me think about it. On the threshold stood a sleepy unicorn with a curled mustache and in a body shirt. Kramarenko immediately reached into his bag and took out a drawing of the bed. He looked carefully at the paper first, and then at the man, the pony asked something. But he remained misunderstood.

"Well, I don't understand you, horned." the pilot said regretfully and shrugged his shoulders.

Having made some conclusions in his head, the stallion opened the door wide open and invited the man inside with a hoof. Crouching down, Kramarenko went into the lobby of the hotel. Going to the counter, he waited for the pony and dumped four gold coins on the table. The sleepy unicorn bulged his already big eyes, seeing such a sum.

Overdid it. the thought flashed. Just how much?

Kramarenko again picked up a piece of paper and a pencil. The Sun and the Moon, replacing each other, became an art. Pushing a new drawing to the stallion, the man showed two fingers, — two days.

Nodding in response, the unicorn took only one coin and took out a gray bag from under the table. Thrown on the table, it tinkled softly. After grabbing the change, the pilot immediately put the money in his saddlebag and followed the pony that came out from behind the counter. He led the tired man up the creaking stairs.

On the second floor there was a long and narrow corridor that led to the right and ended with a door. On the way to his room, just to the one at the end of the corridor, Kramarenko managed to count four more rooms.

Suddenly, the stallion's twisted horn lit up and a bunch of keys flew out of his pocket. Shrouded, they flew up to the pony's muzzle, and he, having chosen the right one, also opened the door to me with the help of magic.

A fairly simple interior of the room could scare off almost anyone with as much money as Kramarenko. Only a soldier is no stranger to a harsh life, and even such a "suite" was the best option for him. While the pilot was examining the decoration of the room, which was: a double bed for a person, a locker, a mirror and a table by the window, the stallion had already gone to the stairs. A heavy sigh escaped the man. Dropping the bag on the floor, he hurriedly closed the door on the latch. It was getting light outside the window. Taking off his dirty underwear, the pilot lay down in bed. The TT placed under the pillow in advance cooled the hand and gave peace of mind. And it is now very necessary for a person who has experienced so much.

***

In the rays of the rising Sun, two people were standing in a narrow street. The red cloaks made them stand out noticeably, but in such a wound, few people could notice them. Whispering softly, one of them pointed with a clawed paw at the "hotel" where the downed pilot was staying. The second one could only nod briefly in response. A minute later they were gone. They are dissolving, like shadows after dusk.