Rolling Thunder jolted awake at the deafening crash that erupted from the doorway. Lightning Dust burst into their cramped hotel room, hooves skidding on the polished floor. Panic painted her features, her mane dishevelled and eyes wide as she darted to the wardrobe and seized a saddlebag.
Startled but swift to react, Rolling Thunder sprang to her hooves. "Jeez and crackers, boss! What's got you all in a tizzy?"
"I... I can't stay here, Thunder," Lightning Dust gasped, stuffing clothes into the bag with trembling hooves. "That pony... at the market... it's after me. I have to get out of Canterlot before... before..."
Rolling Thunder's wings twitched in concern as she stepped closer, spread wide in a placating gesture. "Take a breath, boss. Who's after you? What happened?"
"I... I don't know," Lightning Dust mumbled, still frantically packing. "I never saw its face, but I just had this... this sense. Like I knew who it was."
Rolling Thunder tilted her head, her voice gentle but insistent. "A sense? Who are you talking about?"
"Pick a random city, any city, one far away from here."
"Come on, boss. Tell me what's going on."
"Pick. A. City."
Rolling Thunder furrowed her brow. "Boss, you're dodging the question."
"I said pick a city, damnit!"
"Okay, I pick Baltimare for feather's sake. Now will you please tell me what's going on?"
Lightning Dust stopped, thinking for a few seconds and mouthing silently to herself. "Okay, Baltimare, good choice, I can get there just before nightfall. I'll send a letter when I can. Sorry."
Not waiting for a response, Lightning Dust dashed for the door and slammed it shut behind her, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.
Rolling Thunder sank onto the edge of the bed, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and concern. She stared at the closed door through which Lightning Dust had fled moments ago, trying to process the flurry of emotions and cryptic messages her boss had left behind.
The room felt strangely quiet now, the echoes of Lightning Dust's panicked hoofsteps still reverberating in Rolling Thunder's ears. She rubbed her temples, trying to calm her own racing thoughts as she replayed their brief but intense conversation.
"What pony... 'it's after me'? Like I even knew what pony she was talking about."
The market. Lightning Dust mentioned going to the market.
Rolling Thunder's mind was made up in an instant. With a nod to steel her resolve, she headed for the door, and minutes later was soaring over the winding streets of Canterlot in the direction of the bustling market square. The cityscape blurred beneath her in a frenzied rush, before her hooves clopped gently down onto cobbled streets full of meandering ponies and shouting vendors.
Her eyes scanned the crowd, not entirely sure what... or who... she was looking for. But something serious enough to spook Lightning Dust was something to be taken with caution.
Rolling Thunder's breath hitched as her eyes locked on to a figure lingering in the shade of an alleyway. A tall, unnaturally thin pony draped in a tattered cloak that that billowed in an unseen wind. Its gaunt frame was almost spectral, with limbs that seemed too long and a neck that curved with an eerie grace. The hood of its cloak obscured its face, but there was an unmistakable aura of malevolence surrounding it.
Realisation struck her like a bolt of lightning. The blood drained from her face. Her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest. Every instinct in her body begged, even screamed, to flee as fast as she could. But her every limb was paralysed. Her hooves found themselves rooted to the spot, and her wings had been overwhelmed with icy tendrils of absolute terror. For the first time in her life, Rolling Thunder understood true fear.
Then she blinked.
"You..." whispered the cloaked pony into Rolling Thunder's face, having crossed the distance across the market in a split second. "You are not the one I seek... and yet you seek me out yourself. Most curious indeed."
The muzzle that now hung inches from her eyes was narrow and sharp, the pelt stretched tight over prominent bones, giving a skeletal appearance despite the apparently living flesh. Eyes, though shadowed by the hood, seemed to pierce through the darkness with an intensity that chilled her to the core, hinting at a deep, ancient sorrow and untold tortures. Icy breath and a scent of decay exited the nostrils in slow, gentle breaths.
"Wh... wh... who are you?" stammered Rolling Thunder, struggling to get the words out as her heart raced faster and faster, and tears began to form at the corners of her eyes.
"Oh you know who I am," the cloaked pony assured. "I am the whisper in the wind, the shadow that dances in the darkest of nights. I am the final note in the symphony of life, the quiet that follows the storm. I am the end and the beginning. I am the debt that all ponies must pay, and when all is said and done and the final mortal soul has uttered their very last, even the mighty alicorns will have to answer to me."
Rolling Thunder gulped. "What did you say to Lightning Dust? Wh... when you saw her earlier, I mean."
The cloaked pony arched an eyebrow. "What did I say? Dear child, absolutely nothing. I merely gave a start of surprise, for even I am susceptible to be caught off-guard. I was not expecting to see Lightning Dust in Canterlot."
Her heart had been racing faster than she ever thought possible, but at those words, Rolling Thunder felt as if it had fallen completely still. Her eyes widened, and her ears rung as another question burned in her throat.
"And... why were you surprised to see her?"
"I was suprised to see her, here in Canterlot," the cloaked pony replied with a contented smile. "Because I have an appointment with her tonight, in Baltimare."
Author's Note
Inspired by the Mesopotamian folk tale, as retold by W. Somerset Maugham, "The Appointment in Samarra".
