The Universe Hates You Specifically

In honesty, she hadn’t intended upon bringing Sal with her, but it just kind of happened- after the calvary arrived, she panicked- just a little- and forgot to let go of the con-stallion before making her daring escape.

Still running through the backwoods, stray branches whipping at their coats and gnarled roots threatening to trip them up, it quickly became apparent that her unwilling companion was only going to slow her down.

They came to a halt, Sal briefly choking as she yanked him backwards. “You can’t be serious.” Folding her hooves, she regarded the dishevelled stallion with a measured balance of disdain and disinterest. “We’re not even close to your scummy little hideout.”

Panting and wheezing, his eyes briefly went wide at how casually she mentioned his lair, but he was far too out of breath to do anything other than stare murderously at her as he crawled backwards, propping himself up against a tree.

“You know, at first I was just going to outright steal the book from you.” She looked away, “I probably should have” turning back to him, she rose her voice and stabbed a hoof at him, “I mean; I expected you to pull some kind of crap like this from the start- but NO, I decided that I was going to be the better pony.”

“Whatever. Not like it matters.” Having said her piece, she went to his side, and struck him twice, once in the stomach, and as he doubled over, again in the spine. They weren’t particularly hard blows- he had seen her punch through walls in the past- yet he immediately felt his entire body seize up. Instead of the more understandable state of panic, he entered a deep calm; his thoughts suddenly cleared. Ahh, he thought to himself. Witchery.

“You’ll regain your faculties within a few minutes; be thankful that I’m feeling forgiving, right now.” She rushed out the last half of the sentence, almost stumbling over her words, and an awkward silence followed as the two of them looked at each other.

It seemed like she was about to say something else, but then she just shook her head and ran further into the woods. Sal remained where he was, stewing upon the way things had gone. Also, he was still paralysed.

It had been a risk for him to intentionally draw the ire of such a wild mare. The stories about her varied- but the common takeaway from each and every tale, was that Witches Are Not To Be Provoked.

She could have killed him. She probably could have done far worse things too. As he thought back on how quickly she incapacitated Brutus and Fudge, he inwardly winced- his “guards” had not signed up for this, and he would have to cover their medical expenses, not to mention he’d have to find two replacement players for the under-40s hoofball team.

Sure, he could have hired actual mercenaries that might have been able to put up a proper fight, but that had never been the point. Besides, that would have probably actually pissed her off.

Still, he was getting paid when the clock ran out, and nobody else was going to get too badly hurt from here, so long as everything went to plan. He snickered at the thought, and silently thanked the Sun that he had no part in the mad scheme any longer.

Minutes went by.

Distant voices floated through the trees. Or at least one did.

“Hey, Sterling! Sterling, I betcha can’t… Hey! Ste-” the idiot came into view. “Oh look! I found the guy!”

The sounds of rustling leaves, a gentle but extremely exasperated sigh and light hoofsteps came from behind him, and he felt hooves prodding him. “Oh! You found him too!”

“You did great Edgar.” Sterling walked around to Sal’s front and stared him down with an apathetic half-smile. Face to face, the two stallions squinted at each other. Sterling was dependable. He was resilient. Sal had met him years ago while he was still serving in the Equestrian guard. The kid was just a lance-corporal then, but he was often brought up in conversations among the more senior officers; half-serious nudges in the ribs and casual chats over drinks; many predicted a meteoric rise to prominence for the young stallion. But there was no such luck for Sterling Outreach.

“Howdy, Sterling.”

Sterling nodded. “Sal. Where is she?” The paralysed bar-owner spluttered into a peal of choked laughter at his bluntness.

Sterling cocked his head very slightly, and Sal obliged him with a response. “She’s headed to a lil’ farmhouse about 5 kliks east-by-northeast. I doubt there’ll be anypony still there- other than her o’course.” Sal leaned forward a little, and whispered conspiratorially “This probably won’t go smoothly- you might wanna ditch bird-brain over there.” The two of them glanced over at the griffon, who was currently staring off into space.

Sterling nodded as he turned to address his partner. “Edgar,” he spoke clearly and with enough volume to snap him back into reality “I need you to take Sal back to town. He’ll need to have his injuries treated, and then we’ll need to question him.” Edgar raised a talon to object but was immediately shut down as Sterling continued “Can you do that for me?”

“But-”

“Can. You. Do. That? I need a yes, or a no.”

Sterling gave Edgar a look, daring him to answer with anything other than an affirmative.

“Yeah, uhh… sure, I g-”

“THEN GO.” Yelling without raising the volume of his voice, Sterling grumbled as he took three loping strides towards his target, the fourth step falling mid-air as he took flight, rapidly heading east.

Hup, Edgar grunted as he shouldered the weight of the middle-aged bar owner. With his head hanging over the side of the Griffon’s body, Sal watched with mild bemusement as the ground floated away from him.

“So,” he began, as they flew back towards the smattering of twinkling lights dotting the landscape that marked out the frostbitten hamlet of Moore’s Vale.

“Is he always like that?” he could feel sensation coming back into his limbs now, but he didn’t dare to move while he was still atop the Griffon, so he simply laid there, feeling the bitter winds as they went by.

Edgar thought for a bit, flicking his tail and scratching the back of his neck. “Well…” his laborious tone struck a stark contrast with his more typical bombastic manner of speaking. “I think, that- uhh…”

Sal waited for him to finish, one eyebrow raised expectantly.

“In all honesty, Sir” he paused for a moment, “I just think he’s being a bit of a grumble-bum because he doesn’t do too well with people, and he’s probably a mite upset about havin’ to deal with working alongside someone that has such a radically different personality an’ all.”

He blinked at the thoroughness of the response. It was shockingly insightful, if overwhelmingly optimistic and naive.

“But I reckon he’ll warm up to me soon enough!” Edgar went on, and Sal could hear his smile even though he couldn’t see his face.

Sal sighed. “Well, best of luck to ya, kid.” He wasn’t going to be holding his breath.