The cloud cover kept things nice and dark, just the way Night Light liked it. She held the revolver still in her teeth, looking down from the crest of the hill to a flickering campfire that seemed to light the clouds beneath the faint silver light of a shrouded moon. She made her way down the switchbacks silently, slow with each step and careful not to disturb the landscape.
She danced across the roots of a small grove and then over the rocks of a stream. Soft soil compacted beneath her hoof as she crept closer, eyes turned towards the earth and away from the fire to spot branches and patches of desiccated leaf beneath.
Her breath slowed as she felt the faintest trickle of heat on her face, and as she grew close enough to make out the faces huddled around the fire. Five lonesome souls. She stopped and watched for a few minutes before one pony shook off his blanket and stood. She crouched low and closed her eyes, mottled brown coat losing its silhouette among the foliage. He walked close enough to smell, soft breeze carrying his stench to her.
Once he'd returned from the darkness and settled himself below his blanket, she readied herself. She took a stick of dynamite from her bag, planted it in the ground and ran a piece of phospor against the fuse, the sound masked by the crackle of kindling.
The stick landed right in the center of the group, as close as it could get without sparking in the fire. They didn’t recognize it until the powder exploded with a thud then sent dirt and rocks and flesh flying. Night Light started towards the remains and shielded her lantern until she was almost on top of them. Its orange glow streaked across the ground and revealed crimson and scattered bits of viscera opposite her.
The remaining three figures wriggled and groaned in the dirt. She sent three bullets home. Two died instantly. At the edge of her lamplight, the sole survivor’s horn bathed itself in a thin purple glow as he struggled to pull the barrel of her gun off its axis. Undeterred, she aimed square at his chest and bit down. The bullet blew through him and he crumpled into a pool of blood in the little rut he’d dug to sleep in.
Night Light killed her lantern and listened attentively, and when she was satisfied that she was alone she lit the lantern again and holstered her pistol. In its place she unsheathed a great knife and severed one ear each from each pony, the fur stained crimson and bathed orange in oil light. She then sat on her haunches and cut a hole at the base of each one then weaved them onto a long cord upon which were strung ten others of myriad hues all colored red by a thin layer of dried blood.
She poached a few bits of splintered kindling from the ruined camp and that night bivouacked a mile to the west, and in the morning she made her way back to town.
Buck waited for her by the hunters’ stall, a lonely place in a lonely square, most ponies having shuffled inside before the gate opened.
“Have a good hunt, miss?”
“As good as ever.”
“Ah, but the horde never seems to thin.” The earth pony made a mock frown, then offered her a wide smile. “That makes good work for us, as long as the mayor’s coffers can abide.”
“That’s fifteen.” She gestured to the necklace now set upon the table. “Fifteen hundred.”
“Seventeen hundred. Courtesy of the mayor’s office. You’ve been doing good work.”
“Let me know when he’s ready to pay by salary.”
“Tired of the hunt?”
“Tired of economy. You want to change the price, fine, but when you drop from one fifty to a hundred per ear, you can expect to lose hunters.”
“Listen,” Buck stepped in closer, all his grandiosity slipping away to reveal a new type of frown. “I'll explain this to you the clearest I ever have—you need to let it go. If they pay too much, there will be too many hunters, and the raiders will grow thin. Then we’ll have to find a new town.”
“If Red Eye gets any closer, we’ll have to move anyway.”
Buck smiled then moved a few steps back, his signature pomposity right back where he left it. “Ah, but if we keep it up ‘til then, he just might start paying you instead.” He winked then and took the ears from the counter. “Now go on, get yourself a bath and a drink. We’ve got new courtesans in town. Maybe there’ll be some to your taste.”
“I told you, Buck. Not interested.”
“Your loss. I’ll be there soon. And I’ll send for Scarlet. If Lock gets back with bounty enough, I just might buy the whole bar a round.”
“You see to that.” She started off, then called back, “And tell Lock I need to talk to him.”
Scarlet had almost busted down the saloon door when she heard Night Light was back. The hunter had barely enough time to get a drink of water before the unicorn had got her into a bath and started her interrogation. In between all the questions, Night Light calmly informed her that no, she hadn’t experienced any grievous injuries, and no, she hadn’t had a chance to start drinking yet. Only after the mare had questioned every aspect of Night Light’s health—and vigorously scrubbed her whole left side—did she say,
“Oh, I haven’t even asked about the bounty yet. How was it?”
“Best in a while.”
“Tell me all about it.”
Scarlet was being delicate now, having moved onto a deep laceration on Night Light’s shoulder which was before then hidden underneath countless layers of matted fur and hardened blood.
“Fifteen in total. The first three I rounded up by old Buckton. They didn’t have any ammunition, so I just shot them one by one as they tried to jump me. The next four were nearby, camped out in the second floor of an old building. I snuck past the watchpony and set some dynamite on the wall. Didn’t take a single bullet, since they were all trapped beneath the rubble. After that, I caught up with a group three of unicorns. Nasty bunch, but they were too strung out to aim right—walked right up and killed them. The last five were half-asleep when I threw them a stick of dynamite. Two got killed by the explosion, then the rest shot.”
“Mhm.” She began rubbing some alcohol into the wound. “More detail, please.”
Night Light shifted against the touch of antiseptic. “The campfire got blown apart and the splinters went right through the neck of one of them. I thought he was dead, but when I started taking his ear I saw him looking up at me. It must have missed the artery.”
“What did you do to him?” Scarlet started to scrub more vigorously.
“I cut the ear and then cut his neck.”
“With the same knife?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.” She finished cleaning out the wound. “We’ll need to bandage this.”
Night Light bristled. “Any others?”
“You’ll just have to wait and see. We’ve got your whole other half to cover.”
Lock was similarly ambushed—by Night Light—as he walked into the saloon.
“I need to talk to you.”
He smirked at her as he approached the bar. “Drinks first, then talk later.” He tapped the counter and idly asked her, “What are you having?”
“You know what.”
“Alright, let’s keep it cool.”
The bartender came and he gave him their order.
Lock turned to Night Light. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Table.”
“Really?”
“It’s a table sort of conversation.”
“Alright. Have it your way.”
Lock nodded at the bartender and he found them a table. Night Light was the first to sit, Lock grinning as he made his way over far too slowly for her taste.
“Is Daisy still out?” she asked.
“Yes.” He leaned in, smirking. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“What were you thinking, table or bar?”
“Shut up.”
“Hey, I’m not sure what you expect me to do. You’re the one asking her out.”
“I’m asking you if you think it’s a good idea.”
“You’ve been dancing around it long enough.”
“What’s she going to say?”
“I don’t know. She’s the only one who can answer that.” He raised his eyebrows and took a sip. “The way she talks to you, though.”
“Lots of ponies talk to me that way. You remember what happened with Scarlet.”
“And she’s still your friend.” He tilted his head. “More or less.”
“More or less. That’s the problem. I can’t figure these things out.” Night Light took a swig large enough to burn her nose.
“No one can. That’s the point. You try and you either fail or you succeed. You know that. You kill for a living.”
“No need to be so cheery about it.”
“Why not? It beats being oh so serious all the time.”
“You are such an ass.”
Lock chuckled then looked down at his drink. “If you ever want to talk about it, let me know.”
She didn’t say anything. She took another swig.
“I mean it. Anytime.”
The liquor helped her sleep. That’s what Night Light told herself, at least. The whole day had dissolved away into a warm river of alcohol, which was just fine with her. Daisy was still out. Night Light worried for a moment that something might’ve happened to her and calmed that worry with the thought that Daisy was more careful than any of them. And Night Light knew that she’d sooner pull the pin than let any of those bastards touch her. That thought offered her a little less comfort.
Her thoughts moved too fast and sleep wouldn’t come so Night Light found her way outside. The moon was bright tonight, bright enough to illuminate what the streetlights couldn’t. Her head pounded, aggravated by the buzz of the lights.
She hated them. She hated all of this. She wanted to disappear into the darkness, but the lights and the moon wouldn’t let her. She thought about walking out that gate and heading east until somebody killed her. And then she thought of taking her pistol and aiming at the sky. That thought sparked a giggle which grew into a kind of wholehearted and unreserved laugh only liquor could bring. She then stumbled back to the bar and then danced and then went home and cried, her life smeared into a blur of joy and hate and sadness and liquor, and as she drifted to sleep she felt nothing at all.
