Hunting Grounds

by LunarTrooper

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark
Length: 4351

A sales-pony finds himself lost in a storm.

Sales-pony Moonshine Chaser finds himself in a strange town with a storm fast approaching. Submitted for the Nightmare Night 2012 Fiction Contest.

Work and general circumstances got in the way and I had to rush the ending to meet the deadline. I may do a re-write and punch it up a bit, but for now I'll let it sit as is.

Published 2012-10-24 16:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-24 16:00:01 UTC

Chapter 1

Hunting Grounds

Celestia's sun had just finished slipping beyond the horizon when Moonshine Chaser arrived at the tiny border town of Tracker's Hollow. An urgent telegram from his business partner Vinny had called him there. The message had been as vague as it was short. “Land Deal. Brass Bellow. Tracker's Hollow. Dusk. Sat.”

Since departing from Canterlot, Moonshine had received no further messages. At each village along the way he'd found evidence that Vinny had passed through. Dressed in a bowler hat and a sickly green vest Vinny was a hard gryphon to miss. Many locals remembered seeing him, produced his unpaid bar tabs or bottles of the snake oil he shilled for bits. Still, a knot had formed in Moonshine's stomach. A general unease had hung over the trek to Tracker's Hollow, like the dark, heavy clouds creeping in from the south.

The town sprawled before him, Moonshine was surprised at its scale. Houses and structures of various shapes and sizes lined vacant streets with military precision. Beyond that, the Everfree Expanse loomed large, the tree tops reaching just above the shingles of the eaves. No light shone from any of the windows, save for a single speck on the far fringes. The building from which the beacon shone stood out against the solid rows. It's face tilted away from the towering trees of the forest, as if in defiance. With no where else to go, he lit his horn and trotted onto the main street, toward the light.

The black clouds of autumn choked what strands of moonlight could pierce them. In their dying luminescence the street seemed to stretch on forever. Shadows filled the alleyways, extending dark tendrils into the empty boulevard. Turning his eyes to the shops, Moonshine saw that most had been boarded up. Thick wooden storm shutters blocked every entryway. The knot clenched again. “This town can't be abandoned,” he tried to assure himself. “Somepony is keeping that light on.” His mind offered an unsettling alternative. “Somepony had to send the telegram.” he reasoned. His mind offered another alternative.

Moonshine's pace quickened, he shook the thoughts from his head. “Vinny had to have a reason for calling me here.” He forced himself to stop in the middle of the street. He closed his eyes. He listened to labored breathing, to the creaking branches, to far off wind chimes. Upon opening his eyes, he found himself wrapped in darkness. The moon had been completely swallowed by the blanket of clouds. Magical energy surged through his horn, bathing the street in a soft blue glow. The end of the street was within sight. The building he had seen from the entrance of town stood tall above the others. The light in it's window still lit, burning like a beacon above the sea. He had only to walk the last few blocks and round the corner.

Making his way down the street Moonshine laughed at his nerves. He'd gotten so worked up for no good reason. Vinny was probably getting hammered right now. Moonshine would walk in and he'd have some crazy plan to buy the whole town or something. He suppressed a snort as he imagined a drunk Vinny, Stratovarian Ale in claw. He could even hear his sales pitch. “Mein kleine pony! We are going to be rich! Paupers on Sunday, robber barons by Friday! Retired the next!” The knot loosened, his stride gained confidence. He listened again for the gentle breeze or the clinking chimes. There was only stillness. He stopped in the street again. The knot broke, replaced by pricks of ice climbing his spine. Scanning the street he found it empty as before. Brushing off the frost,m he turned ro face his destination. There was a low rumble, the sky split.

His hooves shaking, his heart pounding, Moonshine checked his extremities. Finding himself to still be in one piece, he exploded into cackling laughter. He stumbled out the alley way he'd darted into and found that the street was now brightly lit. Black, metal lamp posts glowed with crackling magical fire. The clouds above matched the lamps, green arc lightening scorching the sky. He'd heard storms from the Everfree Expanse cause hiccups in the arcane flow, but he'd never seen it until now.

The last block on the street opened up into a clearing. Standing tall before the forest was a three story beer hall, it's topmost window lit. A large plaque above the door declared it was “The Brass Bellow”. It's name sake, a squat artillery piece, guarded the door. As he approached the hall, he could hear the sounds of socialization. Tinkling piano keys danced around drunken singing and boastful banter. Just before he hit the door, another plaque below the first caught his eye. “est. 1877”. A rough forty years ago. Moonshine struggled to remember why that date stuck out to him. Just as it was on the tip of his tongue, another long roll of thunder sounded. Heeding it's urgency, he entered the hall.

Moonshine had barely crossed the threshold when he was nearly blinded. The lights in the ground floor shone bright against a sea of white military uniforms. The hall was packed with personnel . Ponies, donkeys, and zebras of varying ages and branches crowded around tables and stools. Sailors and air cavalry pegasi wore the same stark white as regular infantry, even if the designs varied. A light went on in his head. “That's it!” Moonshine remembered, “1877, Lunar Republic votes itself into nationhood. Celestia discontinued blue as the standard for dress uniforms.” He pondered for a moment more. “No, still missing something.” He decided it would have to wait.

He scanned the room several times. Vinny was no where among the many patrons, nor where any gryphons for that matter. The only thing he did notice was an elderly zebra in a far corner. Since he'd entered the hall the zebra had been watching him. The knot began to form anew. He tried his best to avoid eye contact, but he could almost feel the bore of the old zebras eyes. In his ind he tried to dismiss it. “Probably doesn't like strangers. This is a border town after all.” Moonshine spent the next hour questioning patrons about Vinny. Their lively tones turned dry as soon as he mentioned the gryphon. Though they remained cordial, a tension began to rise. None of them had seen or heard from Vinny, or so they said. Moonshine finally resigned himself to an empty table.

Staring down at the wood grain he pondered his situation. Either Vinny had abandoned him, as he was apt to, or the villagers were lying. What reason would they have to? Nothing made sense around here. Suddenly the table's weight shifted. Moonshine looked up to see the elderly zebra staring across from him. The zebra tossed a few bits on the table. One of the bartenders brought two frothing ciders.

“Uh, thank you. I can pay for mine.” Moonshine stammered. The zebra shook his head.

“No, it's quite alright. You're new here, and you won't be staying long.” His voice was deep and smooth.

“I-I'm sorry?”

“Your friend did indeed pass through here. I know who you are and about your business. You will finish your drink and you will follow your friend back the way you came.”

“Can you at least tell me why he came to this town?”

“He was meddling in the private affairs of our townsfolk and became indignant when we refused his services. We asked him to leave and he departed, as you will. His wagon is behind the store. You may take either road out of town. I would suggest coming back the way you came. The storm bearing down on us will swing north. You still have time before it hits main street.”

Moonshine chewed on the zebras words for a bit. At least he knew why the town was battened down as it were. He searched the zebras eyes, a cold stubbornness shone back. He probably wasn't lying, but he wasn't going to be any more specific.

“What about the road running past this hall?”

“It leads to Fillydelphia. It's going to be too dangerous during the storm. The mountain trails turn to mush in the rain.”

Again, Moonshine chewed. Maybe Vinny had headed to Fillydelphia, it would have explained his lack of telegrams.

“I understand. I apologize if I intruded on anything.”

The zebra's eyes softened. “I hope your friend made it safely to his destination. We are not a hostile village, but we are a private one.”

With that, Moonshine departed the table, as he rose he saw that the entire beer hall was watching him go. Silence had taken lease and he had barely noticed.

With Vinny's shop wagon in tow he started down the road to Fillydelphia. He kept a steady pace, climbing hills and pushing past forest. The path became more and more rugged, the dirt much softer. Trails like these wound through high mountains for miles. From the bluff the trail followed he could see for miles across the Everfree and to the mountains beyond. Rain had begun falling in fat droplets, gaining in intensity until he was forced to deploy the wagon's awning. Mud formed beneath his feet. He struggled to make the incline. Just as he reached the downward slope he slipped. He cried out as he flopped into the muck. The wagon began rolling forward, dragging him with it. Before he could regain his footing, the bluff gave way. The wagon tumbled off the edge, sending him into the forest below.

The next thing Moonshine remembered was the driving rain. The wagon and it's vials of liquid lay shattered next to him. He checked himself. His head was pounding and he tasted something sour. Whatever had been in Vinny's wagon had stained his blue coat green in places. Above him, the forest canopy held back the elements. Shaking off the mud he checked the remains of the wagon for anything useful. Vinny's booze and the green vials were the only things that had been packed. Moonshine frowned. “I hope this isn't mane tonic again.” He remembered that batch had turned his hair a bright pink and made him nauseous. Sighing, he studied his surroundings. He could no longer see the bluff from below the canopy. The mudslide would have been impossible to climb anyhow. His only option was to follow the bluff back to Tracker's Hollow.

Setting out again, Moonshine found the forest unsettling. There was almost no noise save for the pelting of the rain and the mournful wailing of the wind. His horn's light made shadows dart and dance, scattering as he passed by strange plants. He'd heard tales of the Everfree and the oddities within. Most of them unpleasant and his first foray into the brush was not all too comfortable. The lack of noise especially. No bird calls, insect chirps or even the rumbles of predators. As the storm passed into the eye, silence held lease again.

He had been walking for sometime before he hit a break in the trees. The undergrowth gave way to a sizable path almost six feet wide. The ground was smooth and an ashy gray color. An indicator it had been scorched by magic to prevent encroachment by the forest. The path branched off in two directions, both stretched for quite someways, curving around large trees and rocks. Regrettably, the bluff had diminished and without a real sense of where to go, Moonshine made a mental coin toss. He turned left and never looked back.

The path wound on through the forest, the canopy slowly breaking outward. Tiny droplets of rain fell through, the eye of the storm beginning to push past. Moonshine's horn dimmed. He strained to relight it. He could feel the aches and bruises from his fall from the bluff, his chest heaved. Finally he let his light sputter and extinguish. He forged on down the path, it's berth enough to keep him going the (hopefully) right way. At last the path gave way to a clearing. Moonshine's eyes widened at the sight he beheld.

At a crack of thunder, lightening lit the clearing. In the center stood an impossibly large manor house surrounded by a crumbled, stone wall. Rusted iron gates creaked on their hinges, a cut chain lay at their base. To his right a wagon sat alone amongst the tall grass. Upon closer inspection it was full of suitcases, luggage, miscellanea. Turning back to the gate he considered his options. On the one hoof, the manor was spooky in and of itself. On the other, the storm was going to bear down again. Without the safety of the eye, he couldn't use magic properly, even if he wasn't beaten and tired. Moonshine navigated the weeds and pushed the iron gates aside.

From inside the wall he could see that it was not worn down, but rather unfinished. Stacks of bricks and sacks of mortar lay next to old construction materials. Rotted scaffold stood against some sections. The plants on the lawn had overgrown their fountains and reclaimed the land. The manor itself fared no better, vines raced up and down it's face and shatter windows glared like broken teeth. The front door stood slightly ajar in a way that reminded Moonshine of the one-bit pulp novels he'd read as a young colt. Remembering the oncoming storm he entered the manor.

In the darkened entryway, Moonshine found a lantern. Touching his torn to it, a bright blue flame caught in it's housing. Grabbing the lantern by his teeth he swung it across the room. A large banner hanging from the ceiling welcomed him, below a horseshoe shaped desk sat flanked by twin wooden doors. On the walls various landscapes hung, their faces marred by dust and rain. Piles of clothes lay scattered about the room, some on coat racks or over chairs. Faced again with two paths, Moonshine chose the left. It hadn't failed him so far.

The left doorway had opened into a long hall. On both sides were numbered doors. The manor was proving to be bigger than it appeared. He pent some time exploring each room, though he turned up nothing. All of them had their beds made, their carpets clean. Whoever had abandoned this place left without taking much of the amenities. Moonshine began to wonder if this was the land deal Vinny was referring to. He let out a laugh. “If Vinny thinks he could fix up this place he might as well buy the town.” Giving up on the rooms he decided to seek out the kitchen. Maybe some preserved food remained in the cellar or pantries. The hallway led into a wide, high ceiling dining area. A crystal chandelier hung tenuously from the rafters above a long oaken table. Portraits of Equestrian royalty hung on the walls. Regal Celestia softly smiled, her head titled upwards. Various Dukes and Duchesses flanked her on the adjoining walls. Below the massive paintings were smaller photographs. Moonshine descended a staircase to the dining room floor.

The photographs were faded black and white shots. Most were of a group of zebras and a young unicorn. The photos moved chronologically with small plaques detailing the year. Moonshine's thoughts clicked. “The Zebra Wars! The Lunar's sued for independence after the Zebra Wars.” No wonder the townsfolk hadn't been warm to Vinny. Attempted annexation wasn't something easy to forgive. One zebra in particular stood out to Vinny. He looked like a younger version of the one who'd talked to him at the Brass Bellow. As faded as they were it was hard to tell. The last two pictures stood out the most to Moonshine. The second to last had the unicorn surrounded by the zebras again, but this time he was in a hospital bed. His long, dark mane obscured his horn or so Moonshine thought. The last photo revealed that his horn was mostly gone, now only a sanded down nub amongst short dark hair. Moonshine winced, losing ones horn was painful, he thanked Celestia he'd managed his had survived the fall. The last photo also revealed the unicorn to be the possible owner of the house. He stood beaming with a slender mare, a dark haired foal and a crowd of various zebras and ponies. Moonshine had become so transfixed with the photos that he barely noticed the soft tones of a piano floating into the room. Moonshine recognized the song. It was a classic sonata, whether Marezart or Clopin he could not say. Disregarding the setting it was haunting in its echo. The song floated into the dining area from somewhere deeper in the manor. He turned to the doorway from whence it came and with lantern in mouth he ventured into the dark.

After hours of walking his feet suddenly felt incredibly light. This section of the manor was more run down, or perhaps, unfinished. Tarp lay over most of the hallways. Paint cans, planks and tools were scattered through them. He remained mostly oblivious to his surroundings, noting only the wall paper peeled in jagged strips or the scratched wooden doors. The sonata was spellbinding, Moonshine felt sleepier the closer he got to the source. He pressed on regardless, if somepony was in the manor he had to find them. After many twists and turns past sealed passageways he found himself at the end of a long hallway. At the opposite end, a light shone down a staircase leading to a floor above. He carefully approached the stairs, dimming his lantern until it extinguished. Something lay at the bottom of the stairs, shining even in the soft light. He crept closer to identify it when his hoof hit a loose board. The creak was deafening. The sonata crashed to a halt. Moonshine froze. A voice called from the stairs, accompanied by a loud click.

“Who goes there?”

“Moonshine Chaser” he said, his voice shaking. He knew the sound of a round being chambered.

“What is your business here?”

“I was seeking shelter from the storm when I heard your music”

“A likely story. Tell me, who is on the throne?”

“Her majesty Princess Celestia.”

A series of barking laughs raced down the stairs. “Good answer young stallion. Come right up.” Something clattered to the floor. The sonata resumed. Moonshine waited for a moment. His hooves felt like liquid. Moving to the base of the stairs he saw that the shiny object was a brass casing. Several more lay on the stairs. The knot still twisting in his stomach, Moonshine ascended.

The stairs were short, at their apex was a library. A lantern similar to his own sat on a table in the middle of the room. An unicorn with steel gray hair sat on an ornate chair next to it. Somewhere to his right a clock ticked, the rhythm implied it to be a grandfather. In the far corner past the unicorn was the silhouette of the phonograph. The unicorn beckoned him to a chair facing opposite his, motioning for him to sit down. “Splendid to have you Mr. Chaser, most splendid. I don't get many guests and I'm not exactly the socialite I was when I was about your age. I would also like to commend you on your answer to my question. If you'd said Chancellor Iron Eye or Governor Starlight I'd have been in quite a pickle.” The unicorn let out several more barking laughs. “Old horse humor dear boy, don't worry about it. I have a rifle, but I'm not keen on putting rounds in ponies anymore. Not since I got out of the service.” Moonshine sat bewildered. “Oh, I do apologize. Hermitage has caused my manners to decay. Here I am carrying on like a mad pony.” The unicorn held out his hoof. “Colonel Hunter Tracker, 7th Royal Artillery, 2nd Emergency Rifle Corp, at your service.” Moonshine shook his hoof.

“Moonshine Chaser, salespony. Nice to meet you Colonel. You have quite the home.”

“Hrm, had rather, or would have had more accurately. We never finished construction.”

“Were you planning on making it a hotel?”

“No, no, something much more. A grand estate, a get away for the sportspony, the soldier, the nature lover. I vowed to defend my dominion to the bitter end and here I sit.”

Moonshine studied the Colonel. His wore a tattered smoking jacket, a fruit salad of medals pinned to it. His voice contained conviction. He was no squatter, he looked enough like the pony from the photos. Age had obviously taken it's toll, but he gestured in such a way that implied he was more spry than he let on.

“Are you alright dear boy?” the Colonel asked.

“Oh, uh, yes. I'm sorry I just feel a bit overwhelmed is all. I took a fall earlier and this is the first sign of civilization I've had it's all quite a shock.”

The Colonel relaxed in his chair. He waved a dismissing hoof.

“I understand. I've had a few ponies wash upon my shores over the years. Fear not, the road from the manor's entrance runs straight back to the Hollow. I should know. I built both.”

Moonshine felt like slapping himself. He'd missed the name connection. His mind wandered back tot he town. “est. 1877” Just how old was this pony? Probing the waters was all he could do.

“You founded the town? Really. I'd just passed through there.”

“Oh yes. After the war. My wife was a business mare in Fillydelphia. We used our fund to build a home for veterans. I began to succumb to ennui and decided to build this grand sinkhole you took shelter in.”

“Oh, it's not all that bad.”

“No, it's worse. I was too bold. Took much, too fast. The whole thing was a wash.”

“Tell me Colonel. What happened?”

“There were fatalities.”

Moonshine was taken aback. The Colonel's enthusiasm drained. In the light his eyes now appeared sunken.

“I had always been a sportspony. I have hunted every manner of beastie from here to the Neighponese Isles. I wanted a hunting ground where I could share my special talent. A place where displaced veterans could find meaningful employment.” he took a deep breath. “I went to war in '77 an arrogant, misguided youth. I came back a strong, learned stallion. Myself and a ragtag group of zebra soldiers spent months fighting an intense guerilla war against the gryphon hordes. They saved my life. We fought together, we bled together and when their government collapsed into civil war I paid their tickets to the Hollow. They were my friends as much as they were my staff.”

Moonshine considered this new information. The zebra from town must have known him. This must have been why he chased Vinny off.

“We built this manor house with our own hooves. Raised it from the ground in the middle of the Expanse. We were barely a month from opening when the disappearances started. They went in ones and twos, no one immediately noticed. It was assumed they had drifted back into town to the tavern. As time went by it became clear that something was taking them. Workers saw other workers head into the forest, supposedly on call from somepony else. They never returned. Fear spread like wild fire.”

Moonshine started with intensity at the Colonel. His passion had reignited. His eyes now burned with a fury. He took another deep breath.

“I don't believe in spooks, Mr. Chaser. Nor do I believe in ghosts, goblins or specters. I intended to show my soldiers there was nothing to fear. There was a logical explanation for all of this. We marched into the forest loaded for bear. We searched for hours. We found nothing.” The Colonel choked a bit. As if he had to force the words.“Upon returning, my wife greeted me in hysterics. My son was missing. We charged back into the forest. We searched all through the night. Barely a third of the two dozen ponies I sent in made it out. Those of us who did remembered hearing only shout and sporadic weapons fire. Whatever took my soldiers took them in silence. The manor was empty when we entered it. The gates left wide open. A wagon abandoned outside the wall as if those we'd left behind had tried to make a run for it. Their luggage strewn about the grounds was all we found.”

“Where is everyone else?”

“Dead or fled. I alone remain. No one else could stand to remain. Whatever stalked us out there had some master of sound, or mimicry. It screamed in the voices of our comrades, our family. It was a siege situation. Pure torture. We saw hallucinations, pale imitations, but real enough. Anypony didn't didn't rush into the forest never to be seen again made a break for the Hollow. Again. I alone remain.”

Moonshine wondered about the Colonel. Had he indeed wondered into the lair of a mad pony? A pony so consumed by grief and senility he'd snapped? Before he could come to a conclusion, the Colonel stood up and walked toward the door.

“I will return shortly. I appear to have run out of brandy. There is a kitchen on the lower floor. Just a moment.”

Moonshine listened to his hoof falls fade away. He sat alone in the silence of the library. He suddenly realized with growing horror that the clock had stopped ticking. The record player had spun to silence. He couldn't even hear the rain pelting the rooftop. In the silence of the manor house he sat frozen. He dared not move for his mind did not want to face whatever could be at the top of those stairs. He waited a great many moments. He was about to call out, even with his fear that his own voice would answer. He sat on the edge of action. When suddenly the silence was shattered. A board creaked.