AJ looked at the poor wretch in the bed, whirling like a twister in his sleep. If he twirled any faster he would roll himself out of the bed and across the room. The poor guy must have been having the most terrible nightmares. She tilted her head and thought. Why was he haunted so? Had he been through something terrible? Or was he just unlucky? She adjusted her hat and sighed. If he didn't learn to trust her, she may never know. Then again, it was his right to have his own secrets.
She stood as she heard heavy hoof steps near the door of the barn. She turned to face Big Macintosh as he approached, looking curiously at the form in the bed. He had helped her bring him in, but hadn't gotten a good look at him before going out to complete his chores. Really he wasn't getting a good look at him now, the way he was thrashing. "He give you a name?" he said, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest.
She shook her head sadly. "Nope. He just acted real suspicious, then toppled back on over. I barely even gave him mine."
Mac came closer to him and looked hard at him, looking harder when the pony stopped moving. "Interesting Cutie Mark..."
AppleJack stood next to her brother. "Yeah, Ah saw that too. Was gonna ask him about it, but again, he passed out."
Big Mac made a face. "Never seen one with a key before..."
AJ nodded. "Ah know. But he ain't gonna tell us what it is while he's asleep. All your chores done for the day?"
"Eeyup."
She smiled to herself. "Then let's go see what Granny's made for supper. We'll come by later with a bowl for him."
"Hope she made apples. Ah like apples."
...
Sometime later, unbeknownst to the Apple Family, a figure quietly crept form the barn. He had eaten the food left for him, and it was good. He felt a little bit bad about this, them having shown him so much kindness. But only for a second. Then he got over it. He padded over to the main house, making less noise than a mouse on a thick padded carpet. He moved with all the grace in the world, never even seeming to touch the ground at all. It certainly would explain his noiselessness.
Feeling the soft grass under his hooves, he felt alive again. Not due to the grass, that was just grass, no matter how good it felt. No, it was the hunt. He loved it. There couldn't have been any greater joy in the world. The thrill of getting away and not being caught was too wonderful to stay away from for long. And a mark like this would be easier than most any of his recent conquests.
He slipped in easily through the window, the lock being undone. He perched on the sill for a second out of habit. It used to be for checking for magical alarms. This time it was just to scope. There wasn't much of great worth in the old house, but there had to be something. A jewelry box, at least. Some kind of family heirlooms. Everyone had something, and he could typically sniff it out.
He dropped down lightly, his hooves making only the slightest tapping sound as he landed. He allowed himself the slightest chuckle. He hadn't lost any of his good stuff. He was still the best. Moving quickly, he began to search, starting with the closest bedroom. An old green mare rocked slowly in her chair, snoring softly. He moved slowly once inside the room, being sure not to wake her. These older ponies could sometimes surprise you, waking up at the slightest of sounds. He rummaged through the drawers, finding next to nothing of value. Out of habit, he went to put a necklace in one of the pouched strapped to his chest, but he remembered quickly that it wasn't there anymore. He had left it behind when he ran...
He shook his head, pushing it out of his mind. It didn't do any good to think of it now. He could just get more pouches at a later date. After all, he did still have his vest pockets. For the moment, he quickly put the necklace on his own neck. He would have to limit himself if he came across anything good in the other rooms. Only take what he could wear or carry. Finding only the necklace, he moved to the next room, where he found a massive red stallion. He would have to be careful here too, despite the obvious fact that he was a tremendously heavy sleeper. If he woke up, it was over. He looked like he was strong and powerful enough to be one of the Princess's guards.
Nothing turned up in this room either. This room was even simpler than the last, having only a bed and a small dresser with a few bandanas. As he closed the dresser drawer, he looked out at the moon. It was beautiful as always. Night was always his favorite time. If he couldn't be working, he would at least take some time to look at the sky before bed. He hadn't been able to see it for some time, though, during the lockdown. It had been lonely, not being able to see the moon...
He cleared his head again. What was it about this farm that made him so reflective? Had he been anywhere else, he wouldn't be thinking about these things. He would be content to arrive and vanish, like always. He left the room, returning the door to the proper place, and went to the last bedroom on this floor. As always, he opened the door slowly and carefully. The pretty orange mare from earlier was sleeping soundly, snoring a little bit less than gracefully. An old, somewhat battered Stetson hung from the bedpost by her head, moving slightly every time she breathed out. This family really needed some snoring remedies.
He tried to focus on his work, but his gaze kept getting pulled back to the mare. She looked peaceful and happy, even while she slept. Her blonde hair moved in unison with her breath and hat, making her appear to be in total harmony. Everything about her, in fact, seemed to be adjusted just right. Even her blankets, in a severe state of disarray, almost looked like they were all adjusted to be a certain kind of messy. A cloud passed over the moon and made the room pitch dark, snapping him out of his trance. Idiot! She's just some mare! Leave her alone and just get out! She groaned in her sleep, as if his thoughts were just loud enough that she heard them.
He waited patiently for the moon to come back out, letting him see the dresser in front of him again. He rummaged and found little. Another small, jeweled necklace, a shiny thing. This whole house was either dirt poor or enjoyed living simply. He knew he didn't have many rooms left to search, having seen the narrow top floor from the outside. He moved up the stairs, still moving silently despite the creaky old steps. He seemed to know exactly where to step on the wood to avoid making any noise. He made it to the top without a hitch, but upon making it to the top, everything fell apart.
The moment he stepped onto the landing, a net fell down onto him from the ceiling and landed on his head. Is wouldn't have been so bad, were it not for the rigging that held the net up falling down with it. The several heavy pieces of wood landed painfully on top of him, hitting his head and back. He fell heavily to the ground, slipping out of consciousness fast. The last thing he heard was the sound of several fillies running out of their room, cheering.
"Cutie Mark Crusader Monster Catchers! Yay!"
...
The wood landing on him was a blessing compared to what awaited him. He found himself back in the dream world, though this time there was no ground beneath his hooves. He moved his legs furiously, but as far as he could tell he wasn't moving very much, if at all. The timberwolves were still there, but if he had any luck at all they were suspended as well and would not be able to reach him. The Voice floated down to him, caressing him in its creepy, soothing tones.
"Tch, tch, tch," it tutted. "I'm surprised at you. A trap laid by three ignorant fillies tripped you up? How fitting."
He snarled as he craned his neck, looking for any kind of sign of someone. If he had to keep coming here, maybe he ought to just find a timberwolf and get it to finish him. He threw his weight into a turn, hoping to at least feel himself move in the air. When he felt nothing, he swore under his breath. The Voice heard and gently chided him. "Oh, now, now, you don't want to leave already? You only just got here."
"Of course I want to leave! Ever since I first ended up here I've had nothing but bad luck!"
"Oh, have you? I don't recall having arrived in your dreams before your... Troubles, shall we call them?"
He froze where he floated. How did he know? He or it? Either way, what was it? This seriously needed to end. There was something other-worldly about this place. It would almost be soothing without the bucked up deity looking over his shoulder and talking to him while timberwolves snarled all too near to him. "I don't know what you mean," he finally lied.
"Mmm, my, a talented liar you are. Though you did pause a little too long before responding. It raises suspicion. Not that you would have passed one by me anyways."
He frowned. "Maybe I wasn't lying."
"Oh really? Then I suppose I wouldn't find notches carved in the walls of the Canterlot dungeon? Third cell on the right as one goes in?"
"What do you know about my bucking life?!" he screamed. This was all too much.
"Oh, I really know quite a lot about your life. And there is quite a lot to tell, isn't there?" There was a faint sound of parchment rustling. "Do you have some preference as to what you want me to call you?"
He smirked smugly. "What, you don't already know my name?"
"Oh, I do. Don't worry about that. But I just wondered if we might make this a bit more personal."
He rolled his eyes. "You’re in my goddesses-damned dreams. I think that's already personal enough."
"Hmm... That's fair... Well, then, I'll hold off on calling you by name, since that would make you more comfortable. You let me know when you want me to begin observing pleasantries."
He moved his hooves rapidly, feeling a little helpless again. "What would make me more comfortable would be to feel some solid ground beneath my hooves and to be free of these nightmares!"
"Oh, I can't do either of those," it echoed sadly. "I do not control the conditions under which you arrive here, though I did believe this was a nice place. Away from the worries of the world, in the nice quiet darkness..."
"This place is a shit-hole," he spat. "If given the choice I would never come back here again!"
"Oh, now you've hurt my feelings..." It was almost believable from the way it was said. The morbid echoes may have strengthened the sorrow in its voice, though. "As a warning, it isn't good to hurt my feelings too many times. But now I want you to leave. I was going to tell you something, but now it can wait. It was good, too. You would have liked it."
Admittedly, his interest was piqued. But any real information he could get from... whatever this was, he wanted it. Almost anything could help at this point. "Wait! I'm sorry!! Please tell me!"
"Oh, no. You’re only apologizing now because you want something, and that isn't a real apology at all. Maybe tomorrow I'll tell you. If you apologize and really mean it."
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. I meant everything I said. I just want to know how to escape this place."
"Huh... An honest liar. Next you'll tell me that you give your possessions away after looting them. That is what you call it, isn't it?"
He gave a short, dry chuckle. "Perhaps a novice does. Then you grow up."
"What is it called, then?"
He thought for a moment, deciding how to answer. He finally decided to give an honest answer. "It's simply... Acquiring. Perhaps ‘coming into possession of new belongings’, if you’re being extra wordy, but acquiring is a good word."
"Oh, lovely. I like that. 'Acquiring'. What a nice word. Thank you. I suppose you do have some knowledge I don't. Though I have plenty you don't. Thinking of which, I think you'd best be going now. You have some explaining to do."
Before he could protest, a timberwolf snarled fiercely at him, and this time it was practically in his ear. The feeling of ice water being splashed against his face came to him, and he woke up, soaking wet in front of a grumpy looking farm-mare.