Prey and a Lamb

by Lambs Prey

48.3 Invasion and Evasion on Occasion

There is a quote famously attributed to Celestia, "The darkest hour is before the dawn."

It's supposed to mean there is always hope, no matter how bad things may appear. It was a lie. The darkest hour may be before the dawn, but that does not mean there is anything worth hoping for. The sun will still rise over your bloodied corpse as easily as not.

So the dawn came, Celestia raised the sun, and light returned to the world. Even the towering spires of the Ridgeback and the gathering cloud banks couldn't more than briefly delay the sun's rays from breaking over the land.

Birds stirred in their nests, morning dew cobwebs waited to be burnt away, and wild flowers spread their petals.

The sun wasn't quite as big and bright on this side of the mountain range, where the winds blew in a chill, but it was still the sun. The giver of life. The source of warmth. The bright bringer of hope.

Its light revealed the smoking remains of Alfalfa Dale as the ISND trudged or staggered in, the sun not letting any stark detail of the ruin go unmissed.

This scene felt so similar to one Prey had seen before. Of a different village sixty-one years ago.

The still glowing gutted homes reduced to smouldering charcoal, a child's strangely unburnt wooden ball lying abandoned in the middle of the road, the way the slightest breath of wind carried hot smoke into their faces, and underneath it, charred meat. So familiar.

It was still too hot to venture in further than the outskirts of the border town. Prey thought it was better that way, so they wouldn't recognise places they'd walked. 

Like the old ram's shop from which they'd bought ink and parchment. The roof had completely collapsed into the small store, crushing everything inside into still glowing coals. The blackened corner posts still stood, grasping at the clear sky like burnt talons. The ram's livelihood, now nothing but ash. And possibly him too, if he hadn't been taken. There was no way to know.

Even only staying here on the edges, they still needed to be careful of the danger the fire posed. Alfalfa Dale had only burned about six hours ago. It felt far, far, far longer.

Surviving the night, huddled around their own waning fire in the remains of Mayflower, while praying whatever had come out of the Wolfing Wood's would stay away had extracted a heavy toll.

Prey's whole body was sore and drained. He was filthy and smoke stained, and his eyes would barely stay open. His hooves felt hot and ached from the forced walk out of Mayflower, over the grassy plain, and back here to Alfalfa Dale.

Scenic and Gloom looked every bit as bad as he felt. Scenic's eyes were red and swollen, and he stumbled on almost every step as he pulled the makeshift litter with Lilly on it behind him. His mane and coat were matted with dirt, smoke, and hardened pine sap. His armour was stained and scuffed.

Worst was the hopeless *Clop. Clop. Clop.* of his plodding steps.

When the sun had finally risen over Mayflower and the darkness had retreated under the trees, only Prey and Gloom had still been awake to sob in relief. It was over. They'd survived. There'd been barely four logs left in the wood pile.

The entity, whatever it was, had vanished.

And there in the morning light they'd found the remains of the kindersnatches. They were gone. All of them. Gone. Everything. Both the wicker kindersnatch bit, and the tortured villager the parasite had contained inside. It was all gone, eaten, even the thirteenth kindersnatch who'd been crushed under the fallen house.

Or rather, nearly everything. There remained thirteen dark patches of soaked dirt, along with heavy grass blades sticky with blackened red.

That, and thirteen grisly lower jaw bones, all neatly lined up neatly in a row.

Gloom had cursed foully and quickly shut his eyes at the sight, but it was too late and couldn't be unseen. He'd stood frozen like that for some time, eyes closed and just trying to get his breathing back under control. Prey looked at the arrayed jaw bones, the remains of the people he'd purposefully sacrificed to live, and quietly went to clear them away with a stick.

"What are you doing?!"

Prey jumped and dropped the stick, the elderly sheep's jaw bone he'd been lifting falling back with a soft squelch onto the stained earth. Why the entity had left these trophies lined out like them for this, Prey had no idea. To further taunt them? Did it even have a mind to think of doing that?

"Drop that, don't touch-Just... just leave them Prey. I'll... I'll do it. It should be me who has to do that. Before the others wake up." Gloom hoarsely croaked.

And Gloom had kept his word. He collected up all thirteen jaw bones, even if he had to stop and be sick once and had to pause longer and longer between each one. Prey'd dug a small hole, and they buried them there.

Only then, once the jawbones were gone, had Gloom woken Scenic, the Earth pony still lying slumped where he'd fainted from exhaustion and fear during the night.

Filled with shame, Scenic staggered upright and tried to apologise, but the words stuck in his throat and wouldn't come out.

Dead eyed, Gloom had just shaken his head. An apology wasn't necessary. He knew what Scenic wanted to say.

Not a word was spoken what had happened last night. The hunted look they all saw reflected in each others eyes was enough. Nothing would ever be said about what happened that night. Even in the privacy of their own thoughts, both Gloom and Scenic tried to put it from them. They didn't feel safe even thinking about it.

Scenic had been woken up. Crimson and Lilly had not.

Crimson was still in his coma like state following his collapse after driving himself beyond his limits with the magical necklace. The magical jade links still rested around Crimson's throat as he was pulled on the second makeshift litter behind Gloom. It faintly sparkled with a deep internal light every now and again, but it looked duller than it had been.

Crimson wouldn't wake, even after they removed the huge thorn Prey had stuck in his leg to stabilise him last night. He hadn't twitched or made a noise when they'd rolled him onto his litter. However, his breathing was stable and deep at least.

Prey feared Crimson's continued unconsciousness might have something to do with the hidden "price" Crimson had mentioned he'd had to pay, as a result of that abrupt screaming fit he'd suffered. He shouldn't have ever given the stupid thing to Crimson.

That Lilly Blossom had also refused to be woken was another bad sign.

The mare looked to have lost two stone overnight, and that wasn't some ill favoured joke about her amputated leg. Her skin seemed drawn under her peach fur, her flesh withered, and she looked scarily reminisce of the poor donkey they'd found in the kindersnatch. She was nowhere even close to the brittle emaciated husk they'd found inside, but the resemblance was close enough to make both Gloom and Scenic feel sick just looking at her. Even Prey found the similarity disturbing

And then there was the meld wood.

The heavy length of wood had grown into the swollen shoulder socket of Lilly's missing left foreleg looked horrifying in the daylight. It was not a peg leg, and could never be mistaken for one. It grew into the flesh, bulging under the skin and warping its colour.

And then there were the places where the shoots of meld wood had grown through Lilly's body and broken out of her flesh entirely.

Lilly looked like she'd been in a splinter based explosion, but one in reverse. Shoots sprouted from a number of veins around her shoulder, but were not wholly confined to the area. Perhaps most disturbing was a gnarled coil of root which sprouted from under her chin, then branched up over the corner of her closed left eye, and finally wrapped around her horn, the source of her magic. The meld wood root looked almost like half melted cheese or rubber with the way it conformed to her face.

Gloom and Scenic were both horrified by what had been done, but more horror after everything else? It was just pressing further into numbness.

Prey had warned them that it would only save Lilly for a given definition of 'save'. Now they knew why he'd been so specific.

The unicorn mare's armour had been removed and discarded so as to better wrap her in blankets and padding. No one cared one whit about the miss-appropriation of Guard equipment. All extra weight needed to be left behind.

Now she rested on the rough litter Scenic drew, made of two long branches with strips of cloth bound between them. Lilly's head lay elevated. The litter's end dragged two shallow furrows behind Scenic and bumped at almost every step, but Lilly hadn't stirred once.

Those twigs growing out of Lilly's flesh would need to be trimmed every so often, lest it overtake her body completely. It didn't look like that was going to be a concern though.

Prey'd felt he had to inform Gloom of the chances of her not waking up at all, because they were high. Prey didn't want to be blamed later for withholding information, especially when he was the one who'd operated on her, forced to or not, so Gloom should know the odds. Even if it was information Gloom did not want to hear.

Because despite all he'd done, grafting the meld wood into her leg and saving her from the Mama'duke venom, it probably would not be enough to save the unicorn mare in the end. Lilly's body might live, but if the meld wood had also bonded with her brain, then she would never reawaken, and become little more than the twisted tree she now appeared.

The stump of her leg where the wooden limb grew was badly inflamed and hot, despite the amber sap flowing through it that should've enforced healing. That was a further bad sign.

"If she hasn't awoken by noon, her chances are less than twenty percent of ever waking." Although he hated Lilly, Prey had not found any joy in being the one who had to convey the news to Gloom, who did care very much.

The already almost broken down Gloom and Scenic had not taken Prey's frank summary of Lilly's chances well. To Gloom, it was proof of one more failure to add atop of his already heaped pile.

Gloom was desperately hoping the Night Guards coming on the train this morning had brought along a medic who could help Lilly where they had failed.

'-if she lives, what state will it even be in?-', Gloom couldn't help but ask himself.

It was just one of the many painful questions Gloom had asked himself on the silent trudge back to Alfalfa Dale, having left Mayflower the moment they thought it safe to do so.

And now they were back in Alfalfa Dale, and looking at the ruins and further proof of their failure. 

Prey had ruined many lives, some he'd meant to, others he hadn't. Alfalfa Dale however wasn't one of them. It was the warlock's fault, not his. Prey would not accept responsibility. He knew whose fault this really was.

When the Night Guard arrived on the train this morning as per Nighthawk's return message, and saw the situation, he would not let them place the blame on him. Or the rest of the ISND either, because he was part of that too. He would not be answering to Luna.

If they tried to accuse Gloom, Prey was ready to step in and argue in defence of their choices. With the state Gloom and Scenic were in at the moment, they'd probably accept any punishment they were feeling so guilty. Survivor's guilt.

Since the train tracks had never entered Alfalfa Dale, having been laid around the town's edge, they were able to trudge over to it without having to pass through the still dangerously hot ruins of town.

That was where they now stood, on the train platform, waiting for the promised Night Guard backup to arrive.

Despite being wood, the hoof high platform that served as a train platform was untouched by the fire, being detached from the border town. Both Crimson's and Lilly's litters had been laid out on the boards, and now they lay there unresponsive as the three conscious members of the ISND waited. And waited. And waited.

Nighthawk had said that the squad of Guards would be arriving first thing in the morning. It'd taken the ISND almost three hours to slowly get here from Mayflower, carrying Crimson and Lilly as they were.

It was now roughly nine o'clock. 

No Night Guards had arrived, and there was no sign of the train appearing from over the Ridgeback pass.

It was entirely possible they'd been delayed. Requisitioning the train which was only supposed to run once every two weeks, getting the right specialists in, or anything similar could be the cause. 

"They probably had to stop to clear a tree from the tracks." Gloom spoke into the quiet.

No one answered. All of them either slumped or just lay on the platform, too tired to stand but also to tired to fall asleep. Even in direct sunlight and with the heat still coming off Alfalfa Dale's ashes, it felt chill to them.

Blackly, Prey considered it certainly possible that the warlock had destroyed the train tracks somehow up in the mountain pass. He didn't know how the warlock would've gotten up there so fast last night and back, but the world was against Prey.

The minutes slowly continued to tick past, one slow protracted second at a time.

Still no sign of any train.

Prey's stomach grumbled painfully. He'd quenched his thirst at Mayflower's stream before they'd left, and they had managed to recover their canteens too, but hadn't eaten anything. Prey was hungry, but he only had to think about the hunger he'd escaped last night and he suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore.

'Fishez would be nice, yez?' The mental remnant of Garrow unexpectedly whispered.

In a fit of fury, Prey shredded the memory of the taste of fish the violent griffin had been so fond of. How dare Garrow's remnant rear its head now? The griffin was like a worm, only coming out once the blackbird's shadow had passed. Wonderful. Now Prey's headache was even worse.

Prey's drooping ear twitched, and he looked around to see that Gloom had gotten up, but the thestral wasn't going anywhere. Gloom was just checking on Crimson and Lilly, like he did every ten minutes. Lilly's state hadn't changed, but Crimson was showing signs he might soon awaken. Hopefully.

'-what are we going to tell him when he does?-', Gloom wondered.

Prey didn't know the answer to that question either.

Where was the train? And where were the Night Guards Nighthawk had promised?

'They aren't coming, are they?' Prey thought. He didn't know why he'd expected anything different. The only person you could rely on was yourself.

"Why aren't they here yet? How long does it take to send one train?" Prey heard Scenic mumbling to himself.

They waited.

And then waited some more.

"Something must've gone wrong," Gloom eventually said, "They're not coming."

"Maybe, maybe they'll come later though?" Scenic suggested.

"Maybe..." Gloom echoed but without any hope, "But we can't just keep sitting here waiting."

They continued to sit there silently waiting. The sun continued to beat down on the open platform.

Gloom had said they had to do something, but what? Where were they supposed to go? What could they possibly try or do which hadn't already failed? They had injured, exhausted, without supplies, leads, or ideas. So while saying they couldn't just keep sitting here fruitlessly waiting was correct, what were they supposed to do instead?

They were on their own. No one was coming.

All their plans had failed and now they were stranded on the wrong side of the mountains, trapped and indecisive. The warlock was still out there somewhere with an army of kindersnatches and another even bigger scarecrow of some sort. Shimmer and Atlas were gone, the villagers were gone, the deer holt was gone, Alfalfa Dale was gone. Everyone but them was gone.

So what were they supposed to do?

If there'd been a telegraph station this side of the mountains, perhaps Gloom could've flown to it but there wasn't. Lilly was in a catatonic coma, and Crimson was...

Crimson was waking up.

Prey jumped to his hooves as Crimson groaned, heedless of the sharp pain such a rapid movement caused him, "Crimson's waking up!"

Gloom limped over as fast as he could to the litter, "Crimson? Crimson can you hear me?" He asked anxiously.

Crimson twitched, his eyes moving under their lids. He was lying on his front on the litter to keep his wings free, and even unconscious, Crimson had them neatly folded against his side.

"Crimson?" Gloom tried again.

"Is he waking up sir?" Scenic asked, hobbling over anxiously.

Crimson's eyes cracked open, then immediately screwed shut as the sun blinded him. He groaned and weakly raised his leg to shield his eyes.

Gloom hastily spread his wings and held them up as shade as he leaned over Crimson, "Can you hear me? How do you feel?"

"That you Gloom? I mean, sir?"

"Yes Crimson, it's me. And Scenic and Prey-"

"How do you feel?" Prey broke in, "Any severe muscle pains or cramp? Trouble breathing or hypersensitivity?"

Crimson blinked, able to more fully open his eyes in the shade cast by Gloom's wings. In places, tiny speckles of sunlight dotted the ground where it shone through the splinter holes in Gloom's membrane. 

"I, no, none of those." Crimson frowned and shifted, just about managing to roll onto his side, "Just generally tired and sore. I feel like it should be worse though. After that flight and using my necklace..."

Crimson's eyes flicked down. There, the jade chain links still rested around his neck.

"We didn't know if we should remove it, or whether it was doing more harm than good." Gloom said.

"I think it's fine sir." Crimson gave the ivy like necklace a poke, a dark frown on his brow, "I don't think it helped me recover though."

"That was Prey. He made you eat some strange seeds. Said it would help or else you might permanently go into a coma because all your natural magic was exhausted." Gloom explained tiredly.

"You helped me?" Crimson asked, head jerking around towards Prey, "Did you help Lilly? Lilly. What happened to Lilly? You saved her didn't you."

Crimson wasn't really asking. His eyes were locked with Prey, wanting an affirmative.

'Does he honestly expect to hear the answer he wants?' Prey was a mess. They were all a mess, and plainly looked it too.

"I did what I said I could do. Lilly Blossom is alive." Prey said. And then he felt he couldn't lie to Crimson about this, and had to add, "For now at least."

"For now?" Crimson echoed.

It was Scenic who answered in the silence that followed, "Lilly's in a coma. She's alive, but, but she won't wake up. And...we had to, that is to say, Prey had to...."

Gloom took over when Scenic couldn't finish, "Lilly's alive, that's what's important. But what happened after though, Lilly's... 'condition'... It's not Prey's fault."

"What isn't Prey's fault?" Crimson asked, beginning to manoeuvre his legs under himself to push up off the litter.

"It's not Prey's fault, it's mine. I'm the Sargent, I'm the one who asked him to save Lilly. But she's... You should probably see for yourself. She's behind you." Gloom gave up and just pointed hopelessly.

"No, whatever happened is my fault too sir. I insisted Prey tell me where the meld wood was-"

Crimson's voice cut off as he turned and saw Lilly's litter lying next to his own. His eye's widened and his breath caught as he took in the meld wood grafted into her body and growing from her face.

Crimson sagged and his face greyed, "She's like a kindersnatch victim."

"She'd already lost the leg. That bucking octopus bit right through her leg. Prey managed to, to... To seal the wound and then do that. She's stabilised, but..."

"But she's stabilised like that." Prey finished.

Crimson sat down hard on the now unneeded litter. His mental walls were squirming. He looked at Prey, "Was there really no other way to save her?"

"Not with what I had to hoof. I warned you against meld wood, but you forced me to do it anyway." Prey said bitterly. They'd all almost died because of Crimson's stubborn insistence in saving Lilly, and now Crimson wasn't happy with the result?

"She's alive," Gloom stressed, "That's all that matters. We can help her get through whatever comes next."

'-if she ever wakes up-', His mind added traitorously.

Crimson could only nod, not quite able to look at Lilly. His hoof tugged at the jade necklace, no doubt agonising over what he could've done differently, and then he stiffened, "Where are my father's wing blades? And my armour. And where are we, sir?" 

"Your armour and blades are over there." Gloom said, choosing to answer the easier of Crimson's questions, "We're not sure if your armour works anymore though. The enchantment bit at least. It should still serve adequately as regular armour, though."

Crimson spotted the wood of the train platform beneath him and looked around. He sniffed, the scent of smoke and ash laying thick everywhere.

"Where are we?" Crimson asked slowly, already knowing but asking for confirmation.

"In what's left of Alfalfa Dale." Prey said bluntly. He sat down, not facing Crimson. He strongly didn't want to look at Crimson at the moment. His anger had flared up out of the pool of defeated apathy.

"Oh." Prey heard Crimson say blankly behind him, "So it is all gone then."

"We're here waiting for the train to arrive. But, uh, we don't think it's coming." Scenic told him miserably.

There was a long pause.

"I see. Sir, do we know why not?" Crimson asked.

"What do you think?" Gloom snapped, suddenly angry.

"I failed. We failed. Mayflower is gone. Alfalfa Dale is gone. Atlas and Shimmer are gone too. I've got no plan, and it doesn't look like Captain Nighthawk is going to make it for whatever reason. We carried you and Lilly here to the train station hoping, hoping-It doesn't matter. We're on our own, but we've got nothing left to give. No plan, no leads, no nothing....I'm sorry all of you." Gloom slumped.

"What about the kindersnatches we captured, sir? If the train arrives, they'll have medical unicorns who might be able to help were we couldn't. Did you properly secure them in Mayflower before coming here?"

Dead silence.

Prey hunched lower as Crimson's words pulled at the memory of last night. From the corner of his eye, he could see Gloom and Scenic frozen too.

"Sir, what happened?" Crimson asked, sensing something was wrong.

Gloom made an effort to clear his throat, but it still came out as a dry rasp, "Last night, after you got back with the meld wood, you fell unconscious. Prey lit the fire, and... And after..........."

Gloom didn't finish. His eyes were glazed.

"Sir?" Crimson prompted.

Gloom opened his mouth. He stared at Crimson, tried to find the words to put voice to the memory swirling in his head, but he failed.

'-darkness, fire, shrinking woodpile, the fear, jawbones in the morning-'

"Gloom sir?"

Gloom's mouth hung open, but nothing was coming out, ".............."

Crimson switched to Scenic, "What happened? Did the monster Prey was talking about follow me back to Mayflower?" He asked in alarm.

Scenic's ears were straight back, pressed so tightly to his head they looked like part of his skull. He tried to speak, swallowed, and tried again, "Yes. It...The.............."

Crimson stared at him. Scenic stared back, not able to find any words, breathing rapidly, ".................."

"Somepony, speak to me. What happened? Prey?"

Without turning, Prey just shook his head and remained silent. Words were inadequate, and they could not convey what none of them had seen, only felt. Crimson had been unconscious at the time, he didn't remember what they did.

"The eleven other villagers trapped in the kindersnatches. They're gone, aren't they?" Crimson asked.

"Yes." Gloom finally managed to answer something. "They're gone, all of them. Every bit of them."

Prey caught the look Gloom threw at him. It was unnecessary, Prey hadn't been going to tell them about the neat line of jaw bones. Crimson and Scenic didn't need to know those details.

He watched the smoke and fine ash drifting out of Alfalfa Dale, occasionally hearing the distant creak and pop of embers.

"So they're all gone." Crimson stated after a minute, "The warlock got everypony. He's made another scarecrow and used it to burn Alfalfa Dale down. He took everything from Mayflower and now he wants more."

Crimson's words should've been angry, but they just sounded hollow.

The answer was self evident anyways. It was yes. The warlock had gotten away with everything.

They'd successfully carried out all of their killing, kidnapping, torturing, and maiming, all while remaining hidden in the shadows, safe from danger. They'd taken everything they wanted by force, and the ISND were no closer to knowing why or what the warlock's ultimate goal was.

And they were all still in danger. Lilly was deadweight now, just a comatose patient, against the warlock with a small army of kindersnatches at their disposal, and now after last night, a soon to be bigger army. And to top it all off, the warlock even had another, stronger scarecrow, and who knew what else?

Right now the ISND were relatively safe here in the ruins of Alfalfa Dale, but come nighttime, when the warlock's forces ventured out from the forest again...?

Prey sat and thought of backup plans and schemes to escape and to get himself, or them, out of this predicament. 

Fight or flight, that's what their options boiled down to. And fighting had so far proven ineffective. That left flight, but flight to where? A good defence was a strong offence, but Prey knew the best defence was to simply not be found. You couldn't kill what you couldn't find.

'Fight; if so, how? Flight; if so, where? Combine both? Neither?'

"We can't stay here." Gloom eventually said again.

No one moved on the platform. Again, Gloom was just stating the same obvious hopeless reality.

They continued to look up the train tracks, the metal rails disappearing into the mountains. No train came. No one was coming to help, it was just them.

"What are we going to do?" Scenic eventually asked in a small voice.

'-yes, now what...?-', Gloom repeated in his head, thinking of all the wrongs the warlock had done to everyone.

Prey let out his breath and leaned back. His legs were wobbly and sore. He rubbed at his gritty eyes and then tugged at his ribbon as he let his tired hoof drop. He remembered why he wore the embarrassing length of silk. 

'To remind me of all those who laughed at me and who are now dead.'

"...Now what?" Gloom repeated slowly, ponderously. Prey could almost feel the slow building of black anger in Gloom's thoughts, mixing with hopelessness to become a sort of dark fuel burning in the Sargent.

"Now what?"

Prey knew those feelings, and knew where they led. He bit his lip, feeling the butterflies start to squirm in his stomach.

"You want to know now what?" Gloom got to his hooves. Crimson and Scenic looked up at him. Prey looked down at his hooves.

"I'll tell you now what," Gloom hissed, "Now we fight back."

Revenge. That's where those feelings led.

'And so hunt begins all over again.'

There is a saying about revenge, not a pony saying, since they abhor the idea of revenge, but a saying from other races.

"Before embarking upon the path of revenge, first dig two graves. One for them, and one for yourself."

Prey thought it was a stupid saying. Why only two graves? It almost never stopped at only two graves. And who decided what counted as revenge and not justice anyways? Righteous anger, indignation, a proper and lawful punishment of rebellious traitors wasn't revenge. Those'd been their exact excuses for the eradication of the Resistance. "Justice and punishment!" They'd cried.

The Resistance had said much the same about the Border Guard and their tyrant mistress, the Sun Wolf.

Gloom wanted justice to be meted out upon the warlock, but in the end it boiled down to the same thing as revenge.

Revenge. Revenge. It was a concept deeply embedded within Prey, but it had never existed in Gossamer. Revenge was the exact same thing as war, and war never ends, the battlefield just changes. Hurt me, and I'll kill you so you can never hurt me again.

Ponies have a saying, "It's never too late to say sorry."

For this warlock, it was now too late to say "sorry". Gloom had finally dropped his last barrier in retaliation to all of this, and now he just wanted the warlock dead. Crimson and Scenic too, no matter the shame it brought to them to think like that.

Prey had known it was going to come down to this. It always did. Garrow had pushed Gloom and Crimson over the edge last time, enough so that they'd been mentally prepared to kill the griffin, although they hadn't needed to in the end. Now again, they were resolved to end this warlock's evil, even if that meant killing and regretting it for the rest of their lives.

Prey shook his head. Scenic thought he was prepared to kill, but Prey sincerely doubted he actually was. Prey could only hope that when he hesitated, it was only himself Scenic got killed.

Crimson and Gloom though, they were a different story. To stop the warlock, they said they were ready to do whatever it took.

'Let's hope you know what you're getting yourself into,' Prey thought, 'If you're letting go of the leash.'

"The warlock has to be stopped no matter what. We can all agree on that?"

"Yes sir."

"Yes sir."

"Yes."

"The bastard no doubt has traps and hostages, so we can't fight him head on. We have to fight dirty. No matter what. No matter how long it takes. No matter how many skirmishes and hit and runs we need to make. Even... Even if we have to destroy his enslaved troops where we can't subdue or capture them, but only as a last resort. Whatever it takes, but the warlock dies. As long as we're all agreed that no one cares...? Good."

They had until tonight at the very least. The warlock would be busy consolidating their abundance of new captives into kindersnatches. Or hostages. Or whatever other dark purposes they had in store for the captured townsfolk. Gloom and Scenic tried very hard not to think about that. It wasn't much of a stretch of the imagination to guess Crimson probably was too.

But it gave them some time. How much time wasn't clear, but they could prepare, scavenge up supplies, arm themselves, and make a plan of attack.

Prey estimated the earliest the warlock would try to track them down would be tonight. The ISND were, after all, the only unaccounted for force in the area, aside from the deer holt. Possibly. Prey wondered what'd happened to the deer. Had the warlock captured them too?

All of Mayflower was gone, Alfalfa Dale too. The deer holt had either fled or been captured. That only left the ISND, and the train tracks as a possibility of bringing in more reinforcements for the warlock to worry about. And Atlas and Shimmer, if those two were still alive. Most likely they weren't. 

They'd run off to confront an army of kindersnatches and a huge scarecrow after all. Prey hoped the two Border Guards were as dead as the odds said they should be.

So, the ISND had until tonight at the very least. However, Prey actually estimated the warlock wouldn't end up coming after them until tomorrow or even the night after. Everything Prey had seen so far and what his instincts were telling him suggested there was only one warlock. Practitioners of dark magic were not renowned for their ability to work with others or share.

That meant the lone warlock was, as Prey had already stated, very busy at the moment. Nor was this warlock stupid enough to rush into things. While they were overly ambitious, bold, and aggressive, they were also cunning, as Prey had already seen plentiful evidence of.

The warlock had thought their first scarecrow would be enough to beat them in the forest, but when instead they'd burnt off the scarecrow's leg, the warlock had retreated. They hadn't tried again until after they'd repaired the scarecrow and could send in kindersnatches as backup to go along with it.

With the knowledge this warlock had at the time, that should've been enough to defeat the ISND. They couldn't have predicted Crimson suddenly gaining a magical artifact.

For now however, the warlock was going to go on the defensive. They'd lost all the forces they'd sent against the ISND, which would make the warlock much more cautious in committing to anything further until they either had more information, or were sure of winning with sheer overwhelming numbers.

On top of that, hopefully they didn't even know where the ISND was right now. The warlock seemed to have eyes in the forest, but outside of it they were almost certainly limited. That provided further incentive for the warlock to retreat and stay on the defensive until they were absolutely sure of victory.

Likewise, the ISND would also be preparing as best they could, getting ready to pit their lives in a battle to survive and hope they emerged on top.

Gloom took Prey aside. Prey knew what Gloom was going to ask. He was going to ask Prey to kill the kindersnatches. A child should not have to kill, but somehow Gloom didn't doubt Prey would either have some twisted way or could invent some cruel method which would work.

'-there is so much I don't know about Prey-'

So now Gloom wanted to specifically ask Prey to kill the kindersnatches.

But he couldn't manage it.

Gloom just couldn't get the words out. So Prey sat there waiting for five whole long minutes in silence as Gloom internally wrestled with himself.

'Just get on with it.' Prey thought, flicking away a buzzing fly from his face as he sat there on the uncomfortably hard platform. He was tired, hungry, he had a budding headache, his wool was greasy and stunk of wood smoke, and his various scrapes and cuts itched and stung.

He knew what Gloom wanted to ask of him, but Gloom had no right to ask. Prey was going to complete the request anyways, but not because Gloom asked, but because he wanted to survive.

In the end, Gloom couldn't manage it. He couldn't ask Prey if he knew some method or trick to kill all the kindersnatches with.

In the end, all Gloom said was, "Prey, you do... whatever you feel you need to do."

Even if it amounted to asking the same thing, it helped Gloom's already ragged conscience.

Prey sniffed and turned his head away. 

He waited until Gloom went back to the others as they tried to scavenge supplies from the smouldering remains of Alfalfa Dale, Lilly's stretcher placed in the shade and tended to as best they could. Then he opened the dirtied cloth bag which Crimson had brought back with him from the Wolf Woods, and retrieved a hoof full of the one plant he hadn't used last night.

The fibrous outer husk came from a Zachuran'da tree, as the zebras called it. It was a fairly rare tree to come across, but Prey had seen plenty of the tall, unmistakable trees before. In the Deeper Green.

However he'd only seen one here in this pine forest, and it was the one he'd caught a glimpse of inside the Wolfing Wood. Thus, he'd told Crimson to bring a decent swathe of the bark back. Quickly he pushed all thoughts of the Wolfing Wood out of his head. He had the bark, that's what was important.

Prey bent the flexible outer husk between his hooves. It was like gritty cardboard, and smelled faintly of something rotting. Prey'd had more than his fill of that scent by now. Everything about this mission was rotten.

Prey stuffed the bark back into the bag. There was plenty there. He only needed a small piece to make one mine.

The rest of what he needed Prey already knew he could find in the area. Prey weighed up the amount of bark in the bag and in his hoof, 'Let's see... Assuming no mistakes, there's enough for nine full sized Bone Rot mines.'

Even last night, Prey had always suspected it would come down to this.

The sun rises. The sun sets. But we all have to cross the river some day.

Crimson approached Prey, looking over the four bubbling basins set over small fires he was maintaining. Acrid fumes drifted off the see through yellow green liquid, and Prey was being careful not to breathe any of it in.

Prey had told Scenic not to come anywhere near his work, before promptly going off to start brewing this.

Gloom was flying high above in the sky, slowly circling above the pine forest's border in the distance. He was looking for signs, tracks, anything that would point them in the direction the kindersnatches and the unknown scarecrow had taken the townspeople of Alfalfa Dale.

Lilly still hadn't awoken. It didn't look like she was ever going to.

Prey stopped poking the fire with a stick and looked up at Crimson.

Crimson pulled a bundle of leaves and plants off his back. "Food." He said.

Prey nodded and kept waiting.

Crimson looked around at the small fires with their bubbling contents. "Are you making poison?" He abruptly asked.

"Something like that."

"Is it lethal?" 

Prey nodded slowly, "Yes. Very."

Crimson stood for a while longer, looking at the bubbling bone rot. He had his wing blades reattached, and most of his armour too, aside from his helmet. He was still his natural red colouring though. Around his neck, the jade necklace softly glowed. Prey couldn't hear anything from behind his mental walls.

"There was a monster inside those Wolfing Woods." Crimson blurted out.

Prey shivered, "Yes, there was."

"It followed me back. It almost killed you all. You warned me against going."

It hadn't been a question, so Prey kept quiet. He carefully stirred one of the basins with a blackened metal spoon he'd dug out from under the ruins of a smoking house, making sure to keep the bone rot evenly heated.

"I'm sorry. That I brought a monster back. But it was the only way to save Lilly. But I'm still sorry. You were right."

Prey didn't respond.

After a while, Crimson turned and hurriedly left the area.

It was evening.

Hours had passed in the way time did. More dark clouds were accumulating up against the walls of the Ridgeback in the distance. In another three to four hours time, the sun would set, and it would be night again.

Very carefully, Prey tipped the bone rot from the last basin out into the hollowed out sac of the water flower's flotation sac. Bone rot melted through anything organic, except these. Not because this water flower was special, but because of the runes Prey had placed on the hollowed out plant stems.

He didn't have any glass jars, so he'd had to improvise. The plant's skin stretched alarmingly, thin enough to clearly showed the poisonous yellow-green liquid contained inside, but it wouldn't burst. Not if Prey didn't want it to or unless it was purposefully popped.

With a deft twist of his hoof and some brief concentration to form the sealing rune, the water balloon like weapon was finished. Prey placed it on the ground, finishing the pile of fifteen identical makeshift bone rot mines.

He'd had to make them smaller than a full sized bone rot mine, and the effect would be less impressive, but it would still kill. To be more accurate, it would only kill three people at best, instead of the larger area of effect splash which could wipe out a whole clumped up patrol of Border Guards.

Prey looked at his bone rot mines. It had been fifty-seven years since he'd made one of these. And he'd performed the brewing process flawlessly.

The knowledge of using water plant air bladder sacs as replacements for a glass containers came from Snake's expertise. It was something the voodoo witch had done before. In many ways, Snake had been very much like this warlock they were up against now.

The thought made Prey's stomach churn.

Under lock and key in the back of Prey's mind, the remnants of Garrow stirred and whined that they wanted in on the coming violence too.

For once, Prey let the remnant's whispered memories and recollections remain. Bloodshed and killing was coming. Prey hated killing. But here he was, expertly making bone rot mines once again.

'The Resistance told me to kill the Guard. Now the Guard is telling me to kill the Resistance. Makes sense.'

When Gloom landed breathing heavily, the first thing he asked was, "Lilly?"

Scenic looked at the dirt and Crimson slowly shook his head, "No change sir."

Gloom grimaced, it was what he'd known he would hear, but still he'd hoped... "I see. Make sure she's wrapped up warmly and ready to be moved."

They would not be remaining in the ruins of Alfalfa Dale overnight in case Gloom's takeoff and landing points had been watched from the forest. Not to mention, Alfalfa Dale was the only landmark out here aside from Mayflower. This was likely to be the first place the warlock checked tonight.

"Did you find anything sir?" Crimson asked.

"Yes," Gloom said darkly, his answer very unexpected, "My special talent came through. Get me a stick and a clear piece of dirt. I need to draw us a map."

"Right there," Gloom said, tapping his stick on the 'X' he'd drawn on his rough map in the dirt, "There's our target tomorrow."

Represented on the dirt was a non-scaled sketch of the pine forest's border, Alfalfa Dale, Mayflower, the stone circle, and where the ravine roughly lay. Leaves, grass, and stones had been used to make the map more accurate.

"What's there?" Scenic asked. The Earth pony had retained the wood axe from Mayflower, and was now sitting inexpertly sharpening it as he looked at Gloom's map. The thought that he might actually have to use the axe left Scenic feeling queasy.

"Something. That's all I know. From the tracks, it looks like the warlock had his kindersnatches and new scarecrow take the captured townsponies in a straight line in that direction."

Gloom's teeth ground together as he thought of what might be happening to those people even now, "I know they might've changed direction once inside the forest, but I just don't feel so. Doing so would not have been the 'right path'."

'So we're just going off a feeling in your flank again.' Prey thought. He was not happy with that. Gloom's cutie mark was by no means foolproof, and he hated relying on any of the special talents Harmony had only seen fit to gift to ponies.

But without following the tracks himself, it was the best they were going to get.

"What are you hiding there? Why are you doing this?" Gloom muttered, yellow eyes narrowed as he glared at the cross drawn in the dirt.

The 'X' was situated on this side of the ravine, off to the left and quite far away from where Prey knew the deer's holt used to lie. It made sense the warlock would stay on this side of the ravine for convenience sake.

At least they wouldn't have to cross the ravine to get there, but the base, or lair, or whatever it was the warlock had there, was rather close to the baloth's territory. It looked to be right on the edge, in fact.

"So we have a target. What do we do now sir?" Scenic asked.

"I say we should enter the forest at first light," Crimson spoke up, "We can follow the old road to the glade of standing stones. Then, we circle round through the forest and sneak into the warlock's lair from behind."

"Circling around takes us dangerously close to straying into the baloth's territory." Prey interjected.

The last time Prey had warned them of danger, he'd gone ignored, and whatever that thing was from the Wolfing Wood's had followed Crimson back. Now they heard Prey's warning, and rightly feared it.

"We'll be careful, as long as we don't cross its territory we'll be fine, right?" Gloom asked after considering.

"In theory."

Gloom grimaced, "It'll have to do."

Scenic's voice was small; "Sir, what...What about Lilly?"

Gloom went quiet. Yes, what about Lilly, their invalid? They couldn't carry her with them. Not only would it be impracticable and dangerous, they had to be able to move fast. There was only one option.

"She stays behind." Gloom said heavily, "There's no way we can carry her."

'Finally showing some intelligence.' Prey thought.

"But if we leave her she'll die sir!" Scenic protested.

'So what?'

"Scenic, look at Lilly. Look at her." Gloom said. He did not feel any better about this than Scenic did, but he was the Sargent and had to make the choice.

"She's in a coma, and only Luna knows if she'll ever wake up. As heartless as it sounds, at this point it's out of our hooves. Nothing we do will have any impact on Lilly now. But we have to stop the warlock. Whatever it takes, remember Scenic?" Gloom added softly.

Scenic looked around at them for help, tightly gripping the wood axe and looking very much like a scared child. Prey snorted and turned his head away from the pathetic stallion.

"Alright." Scenic swallowed

He repeated Gloom's words to himself under his breath, "Whatever it takes."

"We're not going to leave Lilly in the middle of the forest," Gloom assured him, "We'll find somewhere safe under shelter and hide her there. We'll wrap her warmly in blankets and leave food and water. I'll write a message with her location and leave it on the train platform for anypony to find, if they ever turn up. In case we don't make it."

Scenic nodded shakily, "I understand sir. Whatever it takes."

'You say those words, but you don't know the meaning of them.' Prey thought darkly.

Scenic now intimately knew horror and fear, beyond what any of his fellow ponies back in Canterlot could imagine. But he didn't know desperation yet. 'Me or them.' It hadn't come down to that for Scenic yet. Not really.

If Scenic was lucky, it wouldn't either, and Prey and the others would handle all the killing for him.

"What happens when we get to the warlock's lair?" Crimson asked, disgust evident in the way his wings lay as he pointed back down to the 'X' on the map.

"Then we'll have to see and improvise from there. Depending on what we find, it could become a rescue mission. I hope it becomes a rescue mission." Gloom said.

'-there's only a tiny chance, but maybe the townsponies are still untouched-'

"This other scarecrow..." Prey started.

"We avoid it at all costs. If we do have to fight it, it'll be up to you Crimson. You're our best and probably only chance."

Crimson gripped the jade necklace with a hoof and nodded.

"We go in, keep low, get out again once we're done. In and out. I don't think we'll manage to bring down this murderous torturing traitor on the first try, but no matter how many times we have to try, we're putting a stop to him permanently." Gloom growled, and stabbed the stick into the middle of the 'X' so hard it snapped.

Still the train of promised reinforcements did not turned up. What was happening in Canterlot? What was Nighthawk doing? Why had they been forgotten? 

In the end, the reasons didn't matter. Just that the train wasn't coming. 

A little before sunset came, the four of them limped out of Alfalfa Dale and into the rocky grasslands to hide.

Lilly Blossom was left behind, hidden in the branches of a tree by Gloom and Crimson. They'd flown her litter up, and secured her as gently but firmly as they could manage. Then they'd marked the base of the tree with a scored cross and left.

Guiltily, and with much shame, Gloom thought how this might be; '-Lilly's final resting place. Will she survive? Will we survive?-'

Scenic for his part didn't look up from his hooves as they left, carrying the supplies they'd managed to scavenge or create.

In the grassy plains, as the sun sank into the pine forest which'd been the cause of so much of their misery, they found a sheltered dip in which to hide, and all but collapsed. They lit no fire nor lights.

For the second night in a row, Prey lay in a rough, salvaged blanket, sore and filthy, and wondered if he would live to see the morning.

Prey stared up into the night, unable to close his eyes.

He started to shake. Now that'd he'd stopped moving, the paralysing memories of crawling fear came back in full, terrifying clarity.

Whatever the others were feeling, they kept silent and laid still, battling their own private fears. Prey covered his eyes. Crimson had been unconscious at the time, so he couldn't know what it had been like. But the rest of them did.

He'd been so scared. He was still so scared.

Prey curled up tighter. It'd been so close. It had almost eaten him. And so for the second night in a row, Prey cried bitter tears in fearful memory.

If anyone dreamed that night, well, they didn't share them when they awoke, sometime before dawn. Prey himself had been too tired to dream. Probably the others too. Because if they had, it should've been nightmares, and if there had been any nightmares, why hadn't Luna turned up yet again?

Actually, why hasn't she sought to contact Gloom out as a matter of course to demand a status report?

The only time in the whole world Prey was anxious for Gloom to be in communication with the dark alicorn, but had she deigned to visit? No. No she hadn't. Maybe she'd just been busy elsewhere, or Nighthawk hadn't informed her of the situation, or there was a limiting factor to her dream walking powers, like distance?

Or maybe she just didn't care.

It wasn't worth dwelling on, it was a question they couldn't answer. A dreamless sleep had... The word wasn't 'helped', but it had done something, let them recover enough to not simply collapse at the mere idea of what was to come, at least.

As the first sliver of sun was being raised above the mountain peaks at their backs, the four of them silently entered into the vastness of the pine forest once more, or Scenic gave it his best effort.

Again, they crossed the line of the forest's border, from safety into danger. The shadowy depths of the trees, obscured in hanging mist, eagerly welcomed them back into its embrace.

Prey could feel the weight of the pine needle canopy settling back into place over his head, and the carpet of fallen ones beneath his hooves. He felt trapped, caught in the middle. Like he was going to get squashed between earth and sky. He sniffed the damp air, and wished he was not entering into the gloomy darkness again. But 'I want' rarely gets.

He hiked the bulging satchel of bone rot mines higher, their weight heavy on his back. He made himself focus solely on where he was, and where they were going, putting all other irrelevant distractions from his mind.

This was still the forest, a lesson Lilly Blossom had learned too late. If they weren't careful, it would kill them long before the warlock took another shot at it.

Knowing where the remains of the old stone road lay, they made straight for it, Crimson taking point. With the strength and speed his jade necklace granted him, he was the best choice in case they ran into anything.

That wasn't to say they weren't cautious as they advanced through the shadowed mist and undergrowth. 

They were extremely cautious. 

After the terrible consequences of yesterday, and with their warlock target waiting somewhere in here, how could they not be? And this time, they didn't have a deer to act as their guide either.

Everyone was tense, wound as tightly as a coiled spring, fearful of ambush at any moment. It felt like another Mama'duke, or scarecrow, or some other monster, was just waiting to leap out from behind every tree.

Crimson held up a wing and they all froze in mid step.

Dead silence gripped them as they all listened and strained their ears, trying to spot why Crimson had halted them.

Without moving his head, Prey's eyes flicked around the surrounding trees and undergrowth.

He couldn't see anything. What had Crimson sensed? Prey dearly wished to know, but right now he barely dared breathe, so he was left in frozen indecision.

Prey had counted ten of his breaths before Crimson lowered his wing, and he heard Scenic let out a shaky sigh of relief.

"What was it?" Gloom whispered, now that Crimson had signalled there wasn't an immediate danger. If there had been danger, they would still all be standing frozen, hoping not to draw the attention of whatever it was.

Crimson nodded ahead at the ground. Looking closely through the mist, a patch of darker grey could be discerned, half obscured by dead pine needles.

It was the old stone road. 

But that couldn't be it. Prey knew Crimson wouldn't have alerted them like this just because they'd reached the remains of the road.

"And?" Prey prompted in a whisper.

"What else is it?" Gloom also asked, ears still turning this way and that.

Crimson twitched, as if he was stopping himself from looking in Scenic's direction, before he whispered back, "My special talent. I smelled it."

Those words were all that was necessary. Prey immediately knew what he meant, and Gloom did too. Crimson had scented the invisible traces of of blood in the air.

"Where?" Gloom whispered.

"Around us. I can't tell from which direction, but it's lingering in the air and we've just entered the...cloud trail I guess you'd call it. It's not too fresh, but I can smell many different twists of it in the air."

"That means you're smelling different types, meaning different people, right?" Prey asked, avoiding using the word 'blood'.

"Yes. A lot of ponies came this way. All hurt." Crimson confirmed, his mouth turning down.

Scenic was listening, trying to keep up, and eyes flicking between Crimson and the remains of the road ahead of them, "So, so what does that mean?" He asked hoarsely.

"That the warlock either brought the captured townspeople back this way, or that the kindersnatches passed here on their way to Alfalfa Dale last night." Prey answered. It seems they weren't the only ones using the stone road as a convenient land mark.

Scenic looked around fearfully, ears flat, "And, uh, what does that mean for us?"

"It means we have no idea what we're going to run into up ahead. My cutie mark is giving me nothing." Gloom adjusted the self made replacement spear under his wing, the fire hardened end shifting to more firmly point straight ahead at whatever they were going to find.

"Be ready for anything."

"Stay off the road. Follow alongside. If the warlock used it once, they'll likely use it again." Prey whispered.

They did not want to run into a patrol of kindersnatches coming the other way. With Crimson, they could definitely deal with them, but then the warlock would know they were coming.

Gloom jerked his head to the side and into the shadows, "Do as Prey says. Off the path." He rasped.

First came the faint sound, which Prey heard through the mist.

Next came the small pockmark holes in the leaf litter, which Gloom spotted in the shadows.

Last came the change in the air as the circle grew closer, a heavy oppressive feeling which they all felt.

Kindersnatches.

It was more than enough to stop them creeping towards the stone circle, and make them start moving from tree to tree in a zig-zag instead, pausing behind each trunk to look and listen.

Pressed up against his tree, Crimson motioned with his hoof, minutely tapping his chest and then pointing it upwards into the canopy, cocking his head at Gloom.

Gloom shook his head, wiggling his ears, '-no. The trees will make too much noise-'

Prey made a motion behind his own tree. When their yellow eyes fixed on him, he pointed ahead and shook his head, then made a wide circling motion indicating they should sneak around behind where they knew the stone circle to sit.

Prey didn't know what waited ahead, but he knew if it was anything to do with the warlock, they didn't want to go in head first. But he remembered the solemn feeling of purity the old druidic stone circle had emitted. It'd repulsed Prey, so what could the warlock want from such a place?

Gloom hesitated, their limited options running through his mind. Right now they could at least see the old road, but if they left, they might overshoot or worse, undershoot and walk right in on whatever was happening at the stone circle.

In the mist and shadows, every tree looked the same. It was all too easy to get lost.

Gloom tried to feel anything from his special talent, but he got nothing.

'-I'm on my own for this choice then-'

He grimaced, then he nodded in agreement to Prey. They would circle around.

Weaving between thorn bushes and carefully placing their hooves around gnarled roots, they silently cut off at an angle into the forest, relying only on their memory and sense of direction.

A large boulder drifted into sight out of the mist between the trees, and all of them tensed up. But they couldn't halt, they had to keep going. The mossy boulder didn't move as they approached, but all of them were just waiting for it to lash out and reveal itself to be another Mama'duke. 

Of course, it wasn't, and they crept around the worn boulder without incident, but what about next time? And the time after that? Memories of Lilly's screams ran all too loudly through Gloom's head, and Prey was forced to relisten to them all.

'-this is what I've been reduced to, terrified of rocks-', Scenic couldn't help but think, miserable and scared with his heart racing a mile a minute. He silently vowed to himself that if he lived through this, he would never set hoof outside of Canterlot again.

The trees silently watched on and laughed to themselves, mocking them. 'Next time...' The mist seemed to taunt, 'next time...', 'next time...', 'next time...'.

Crawling on their bellies through the damp pine needles, the four of them came upon the stone circle.

Ahead, through a gap in the trees and mist which served to provide a straight line of sight, Prey saw the stone circle. He couldn't see all of what was happening, as it only provided a small window, yet it was enough to see that the stone circle had changed.

The tall stones which had stood watch for centuries now no longer stood alone. A mess of jagged branches and dark wood had been piled up around the stones, ends stabbed into the ground and jutting out like enormous thorns. Or teeth. It wasn't until the second glance that you saw the driftwood mess seemed to be roughly interwoven with the stones. It looked vaguely like...a larger wicker version of the upper casket body of a kindersnatch.

And there were kindersnatches aplenty here to make the visual comparison easy.

Around the stone circle kindersnatches, enslaved victims, lurched in and out of his line of sight. Some carried more jagged posts and branches in their thrashing thorn tendrils. Others just thrashed. The warlock was forcing them to build something. They were desecrating the stone circle, although Prey didn't know why. If he wanted to see, he would have to get closer, and without more information that was risking death. Or worse, being put into a kindersnatch. 

And he was getting a very strong sense of danger coming off this place.

That faint feeling of tranquillity he'd felt that first time from the ancient stones was gone. It was still there, but different, twisted. Like the tranquillity of death and decay instead of life.

'What are they making? Is it a ritual of some kind? And why does it look so similar to a kindersnatch?'

Prey's instincts were telling him it was something different, but the twisting in his gut was also telling him it was just as bad whatever it was.  

Just what he needed, more existential dread, unknown fear, and twisted horror in the making. It never ended, it was just one thing after the other.

Gloom and Scenic were thinking along the exact same lines, '-more evil again. Over and over again-'

Well, the remaining ISND had found part of the warlock's forces, again taking action motivated by something they didn't understand. What was the overall goal here? What was the warlock hoping to achieve by enslaving all these people? 

Surely the warlock must realise being so brazen about this would attract the attention of the Guard, and by extension, eventually the Sun Wolf? If he or she had just continued operating small and stayed secret like with the original fifteen villagers, they could've remained undetected. But attacking and burning Alfalfa Dale? Even if the ISND weren't here, this would've warranted a full response regardless. Prey knew from experience.

The stakes must've changed. Something which made keeping a low profile no longer matter to the warlock. Time, restraint, patience. One of these factors had evidently run out. So what was it they were in such a hurry to achieve?

Prey didn't know, but he had the feeling that what they were seeing happening in front of them in the stone circle was just a piece of the puzzle.

A twisted, blood soaked piece.

"What're they doing?" Scenic whispered, barely audible as he slightly raised his head from the ground to try and get a better look.

Gloom shoved his head back down.

"I don't know," He whispered back, pained eyes fixed on the kindersnatches, "But it can't be good."

"It does not matter," Crimson's voice was devoid of life, "It's the warlock's evil work. And our first fight."

"I count at least ten kindersnatches. Maybe more. Try and lure a couple out before charging in?" Gloom suggested. He'd been prepared for this, but the thought of the coming fight still twisted in him like a knife.

"No, don't attack. We should continue on deeper in." Prey whispered.

"We agreed. No matter how many fights it took, no matter the danger. Here's the first." Crimson's voice did not change from it's flat determination.

"We only get one surprise attack, and then the warlock knows we're in the forest." Prey disagreed, "Find the warlock, or his lair. Those are better targets. The kindersnatches are coming from somewhere, we can follow them back."

A kindersntach lurched across the gap in the trees, and they all froze until it had passed. 

Gloom very slowly raised his head once it was gone to look at the desecrated stone circle, agonising over the decision.

"Prey's right. We only get one good ambush. And this isn't even the warlock's base. We should try for that first. If we can't find it, then we'll come back."

No one felt like arguing. Gloom was in charge, and besides which, no one knew what the correct choice was here either. They might die, the captured townsfolk might die, they might all die. With those sort of stakes, no one could confidently make the call. So they went with what seemed safest and silently withdrew, crawling back over damp pine needles until Gloom judged it safe enough to rise and sneak away.

The kindersnatches hadn't arrived at the stone circle by following the old road, or else the would've seen the tracks. Which meant they'd come here through the forest via a different path.

They crept back in a wide loop around the stone circle through the mist, aiming to find the kindersnatches trail on the other side and follow it back to wherever it came from.

Visibility was as low as it'd ever been, the mist making every distant tree look like a lurking kindersnatch. It was nerve shredding, and Prey secretly expected to come face to face with one as they stole through the shadows, looking for the little pockmark holes that indicated a kindersnatches passing.

But it was a better option than attacking the stone circle and whatever was being constructed there.  

Not launching an ambush went against all of Prey's experience though. It was the opposite of how he'd fought in the Deeper Green.

Back then any target, no matter how small, had been valid, and every dead Border Guard was another victory. Privates, Sargents, Corporals, medics, non-combat supply trains, Prey hadn't distinguished between their lives. He'd just killed as many as he could. But that wasn't going to work here.

Prey had never expected to win in the Deeper Green, but he'd kept going regardless. Because he knew the ultimatum of war, of his solo war. Fear. He'd known he could never defeat the Border Guard, not all of them. Unified, he just couldn't beat anything on that scale, so he tried to break them each individually.

With fear. That'd been his goal.

Make them each individually not want to fight, because they knew they could easily be the 'unlucky-one-in-ten' who died to a bone rot mine, or poison, or a pit spike trap, or rune fire, or any of the other myriad of ways Prey had found or invented to kill ponies. All were methods to create fear.

If you kill enough of them, they'll stop fighting. That had been Prey's war.

But that wouldn't work here, even though there were less kindersnatches than there'd ever been Border Guards. Picking off the kindersnatches one at a time, no matter how slow, would still be a valid strategy, but it wouldn't be the best one.

Prey's former strategy of fear wouldn't work against things that didn't feel fear. Kindersnatches had no self preservation, only following basic instincts and the warlock's commands. The people trapped inside, the ones who did feel fear, were nothing but puppets. 

The second reason that wouldn't work was because of how the warlock had ramped up their schedule. Everything indicated they were urgently working towards something big. The ISND didn't have time to hunt down every single kindersnatch, plus, the warlock would surely just withdraw all his forces into a defensive formation around him if he became aware the ISND were out to get him. Or just up sticks and flee.

That was another reason Prey's old strategy wouldn't work. Back then, he'd been the defender. Here, he was having to be the aggressor.

Thus, their opening attack had to in some way strike a crippling blow against the warlock.

Gloom stopped, making them all immediately follow suit and also causing Scenic panic for a moment in dread, until Gloom pointed at the ground ahead. 

"There. Tracks. They came from that way." He whispered quietly.

Running between the trees and back passed the way they'd come, the scuffed up leaf litter clearly showed the path the kindersnatches had taken.

The tracks lead them deeper into the forest in almost a straight line. They followed.

Prey started to see what might've been faint signs of something large passing this way. A half broken twig above head height, a chipped off piece of bark, young plant fronds bruised and brushed back in one direction. 

He could be wrong. It could just be the kindersnatches. Or it could've been the second massive scarecrow the warlock had created. Seeing these signs could be either good news or bad news. 

Good if the scarecrow wasn't waiting wherever they were heading. Bad because they hadn't seen it back there at the stone circle, which meant they didn't know where it really was.

Prey decided to say nothing. He didn't know anything for a fact, and all voicing his speculations would do was make everything that much worse.

And then another kindersnatch trail joined the one they were following, branching off into the forest. They only stopped for a minute to examine it, but it allowed them to see that their first trail was older. Fallen pine needles lay across the second set of the tracks in places. 

A bit further on another older trail joined the main one they were following, then a third and a fourth, varying in freshness. That proved it. They were definitely on the right track towards wherever the warlock kept the kindersnatches when they were not out doing his bidding.

Sneaking careful and slow, all of them were braced, just waiting for the first gurgle to reach them out of the mist.

When the inevitable scare came, it wasn't with the well known and feared gurgle of a kindersnatch. 

Ahead, the squat trunk of a tree in the mist unwound itself and an enormous brown snake, at least fifteen hooves long, slithered down and wound its way off into the undergrowth. Their approach must've disturbed it. 

Scenic stared wide eyed at where it had vanished into the mist, hoof pressed against his chest.

He was not the only one. Crimson's feathers still had yet to lay themselves down flat again. Prey stared unblinking after the snake, wondering if it was actually a sentry of some kind for the warlock. He wasn't ruling anything out. The warlock had been able to observe them inside of Mayflower, after all.

How had the warlock been doing that, anyway? Some kind of hidden totem inside the village? A floating eye spell? Obviously they had a way of commanding the kindersnatches from a distance, so maybe they somehow linked with the wooden parasites?

Did the warlock see or know what had eaten their kindersnatches the night before last? The Wolf Wood entity. Now that Prey thought about it, maybe that had something to do with the warlock's sudden haste and lack of caution.

Or perhaps it had nothing to do with that.

The snake gone and the scare over, Gloom signalled, and they resumed moving deeper into the trees.

Slowly, just as when Fallen Leaf had been guiding them, the floor of the forest began to change under hoof. It grew more uneven, with deep furrows and sudden rises cutting up the ground, and more overgrown rocks and boulders appearing. But Fallen Leaf had not brought them this way, and now they had no guide. Now it was just them.

Just the four of them creeping through the trees, looking for a war and ready to kill.

More old and faded kindersnatch tracks kept joining into the path they were following, then later breaking off. Surely that meant they must be getting closer?

And then they finally came upon what could only be the site of the warlock's lair. 

Stakes. A zig-zagging line of jagged posts driven into the soil every five yards or so, right across the path. The stakes were uniform, and something seemed to be tied around the top of each. The mess of tracks led directly through the picket line.

Hiding behind a pine tree, examined Prey the closest stake, the mist making the details slightly hazy. He squinted, concentrating until the outline and details finally settled and he could identify what he was looking at on top of each stake.

A mess of bird skulls, of all different types ranging from sparrows to crows, all bound up with tufted bundles of ragged feathers to the top of each stake.

Just bird skulls. After everything else they'd witnessed, this just seemed kind of tame. As if secretly, they'd been expecting the severed villagers heads, although that thought was sickening.

Prey understood what he was looking at though, and knew what it was for. Black magic. Animal sacrifice was one of its simplest components.

There was a tainted feeling in the air, like the breath of disease. The empty bird skulls stared in every direction, keeping intruders out, and also the warlock's forces in.

"It's a barrier." Prey breathed, Gloom barely catching his words.

"A barrier shield?"

"No, like a marker. You can feel it right? I think it's to keep the kindersnatches inside the marked area. Or let the warlock know if anyone crosses inside."

Gloom's eyes flicked to Prey, "How do you know that?"

"I don't. I'm just guessing. But after everything we've seen, do you really think it could be anything else?" Prey whispered back.

"No. You're right. It all reeks of the same twisted mind."

"Revolting." Crimson observed quietly, glaring at the stakes with their remains of dead birds tied to them.

Scenic couldn't even imagine himself ever hurting a harmless animal, let alone dismembering one to get at its skull to do this with.

Gloom checked all around them as he tried to clear his mind, having made himself the promise to; '-not let us get surrounded and caught out helpless ever again-'

"If we cross the line, you think it'll alert him? Or her?" Gloom whispered.

Prey wasn't actually sure, but he answered; "Yes."

On hearing Prey's answer, Gloom didn't immediately start trying to think up an alternate plan as would've been the smart move. No, he had not met his daily quota of insanity. Instead, he just continued to study the picket line and weigh up whether he felt it would be worth risking going in anyways. Lilly and the kindersnatches weighed heavily on the scales of Gloom's fury.

Even now, Gloom's heart was telling him to rush ahead and try to save the townsfolk of Alfalfa Dale before they could end up like the people of Mayflower, Scenic the exact same. But Gloom was forcing himself to refrain. 

Instead of rushing in and likely getting themselves all captured or killed, he was compromising. He was making himself think first.

Prey didn't say anything to try and curtail Gloom's plans, not yet. He waited while Gloom simmered, minutely shifting the weight of the bone rot mines on his back.

"We don't know what's in there," Gloom eventually whispered, "But it doesn't really matter. We were going to reach a point where we had to take a risk eventually anyways. We continue on."

"There will be a response from the warlock." Crimson stated, but wasn't disagreeing with Gloom in the slightest.

"You said whatever it took, didn't you?" Prey whispered, catching Gloom's eye, "No matter how long or what we had to do, right?"

"I did," Gloom answered without hesitation, "Why? What've you thought of?"

Prey nodded towards Crimson, "He's right. There will be a response."

He then flicked his eyes towards the border line formed from stakes, "And it'll be coming from out of there. So we prepare the ground ahead of time."

The pack was gone from off Prey's back, and nothing but the water canteen and nearly empty rolled up cloth bag weighed him down as they snuck through the line of stakes. The four of them moved as one body, swiftly skirting a path between the stakes, figuring going in fast was better than going slow if the warlock was going to know all about it anyways.

The bird skulls almost seemed to swivel in the corner of Prey's eye to watch them pass. He held his breath, not wanting to breathe the tainted air around the stakes. There were still scraps of blackened skin clinging to the skulls he saw.

Was the warlock being alerted right now? He'd answered Gloom 'yes' despite believing the answer to be 'no', however there was no such thing as certainty.

Crimson had his wing blades out, leading the group, but nothing suddenly sprang out to attack them. All of them were scanning in every direction, Prey also looking up and watching the trees, but he didn't see, hear, or feel anything.

If the warlock had any sentries, either they hadn't been alerted, or they couldn't sense them.

Either way, staying here now that they'd crossed the picket line was a terrible idea. Their best chance to avoid detection was to stay low and keep moving around.

Gloom signalled with his wing, and pointed forwards and to the side, '-that way-'

Prey slipped around the undergrowth and over the gnarled tree roots, his heart thumping at an uncomfortable rate and his eyes peeled for traps. Since entering, he'd been constantly scanning for trip wires, trigger leaves, pit falls, everything and anything he could think of. He avoided patches of ground where he couldn't see clearly before he placed his hoof, and made damn sure Scenic walked ahead of him.

If he were the warlock, this whole area would be one big mine field. And this warlock had frighteningly proved they thought similarly to him in a lot of areas.

Then, coming to the crest of a small rise in the ground, they heard the sound of gurgling, a whole cacophony getting louder as they approached.

When they crawled to the top of the rise and peered over, they found they were over a flat basin of land.

There were still trees of course, but the forest floor below them was almost uniformly level, the reason unknown since the forest terrain they'd just passed over was so different. Perhaps it had something to do with the muddy stream which wound its way through the middle of the basin. Maybe it had once been a huge pool which'd drained over the decades? Now, Prey guessed that the ugly stream flowed out and down into the ravine somewhere in the forest.

But analysing the terrain for possible advantages came secondary to all the kindersnatches in the basin below them.

What did the warlock have the kindersnatches do when his enslaved force was on standby? Did they just stop moving? Lie down? Did they even have a need for sleep? The answer to that question was that the wicker parasites stood in the stream, their multiple root legs soaking up the muddy water.  

Prey's mind immediately tallied up their numbers and came to the answer thirty-four, although there were certainly more of them he just didn't have sight of right now.

Thirty-four. You could forget what kindersnatches were if you weren't careful and only thought of them as 'enemies', and not what they represented.

Enslaved, tortured, and miserable people. If you killed one, you were killing a hostage. Even if they couldn't be saved, that did not make it any better.

Prey looked at the gurgling kindersnatches, gently thrashing their limbs even standing still in the stream like they were, and then passed them to what lay in the basin.

Past the stream, half hidden by trees, Prey made out some kinds of four low buildings, mud walls only a hoof high, with rough roofs made of heavy pine branches. A second later he realised he was looking at four large covered pits.

What could be in the pits? There was only one possible answer.

Next to him, Crimson's eyes locked onto to the covered pit as he obviously reached the same conclusion as Prey. He nudged Gloom, indicating the four pits.

Gloom's eyes narrowed as he looked at what Crimson had pointed at, then they widened, '-the captured ponies from Alfalfa Dale-'

They may not know how kindersnatches were made or how long the process took, but even adding up the herd before them and the number they'd skirted around at the stone circle, the numbers didn't even come close to all the townsfolk from Alfalfa Dale. These pits could probably hold up to two hundred people between all four, if there was no consideration given to space or relieving themselves. And they had no reason to believe the warlock cared about the townspeople's conditions.

Scenic almost jumped to his hooves as he made the connection for himself, and only just managed to keep himself down. '-how could they?!-'

How could they? Quite easily. After all Scenic had seen, did he really think the warlock cared about concepts like morality?

But why weren't the covered pits being actively guarded? There were kindersnatches all around, true, but why were none specifically stationed around the four pits? Perhaps these holding pens were much deeper than they appeared from up here, or the captives were drugged, but there was no way to tell.

Prey's focus didn't stay on the four pits for more than a second. He kept looking everywhere. This land was obviously the warlock's territory, but there was something important missing. The warlock, or the warlock's lair.

And Prey wasn't seeing either.

The warlock obviously survived and carried out their dark work here inside the forest. They couldn't do that on the forest's floor. A proper workspace, tools, and shelter were necessary. But Prey didn't see anything that could classify.

Gloom silently crawled back from the rise, and they followed him. Prey cringed as he waited for Scenic to mess up and let his armour clank as they extricated themselves, but somehow the clumsy Earth pony managed to follow without giving them all away.

"Change of plan. Those covered holes," Gloom whispered urgently the second they were clear, "The townsponies, they've got to be down there. Getting them out is now the plan."

"How will we get to them without all those kindersnatches noticing us sir?" Scenic whispered, terrified inside that he might actually have to; '-use the axe I'm carrying-'

"We're not. I'll be sneaking closer, you won't."

"Sir, it should be me. I have the necklace." Crimson whispered.

"No, it'll be me."

"How?" Prey challenged.

"I'll fly in." Gloom said simply.

Ah, Prey understood his plan. There was a gap in the canopy above the four covered pits, the trees having been felled to make space to dig. Gloom meant to loop back and then takeoff, fly over the pines from above until he came to the gaps in the canopy, and then glide down.

Could he manage it silently though? And all it would take was for one kindersnatch to use the stolen eyesight of its host to look up, and then that would be that.

'There's not a chance of pulling it off.' Prey thought. Besides which, how did Gloom plan to get a hundred plus possibly drugged townspeople out of the pits without getting caught? The idea was lunacy from the start.

"It won't work sir." Crimson said blankly, giving voice to Prey's thoughts.

"You're right, it won't." Gloom admitted, "At least not without distracting all of the kindersnatches first."

'This...' Prey thought, '...Is an awful idea.'

How many times in his life had Prey thought that, but been forced to follow through anyways? Too many. Far too many. Prey thought of all the Resistance fighters who'd burned in the ill-fated attack on the hill, who'd 'gone along with the idea'.

So why was he going along with this idea? Honestly, there was only one reason why.

Prey wasn't the one acting as bait.

That role belonged to Scenic and Crimson, but when it came down to it, Crimson was only in minor danger. Scenic was the one most likely to end up dead if something went wrong.

Hidden beneath a tangled mess of a dead bush and vines, Prey used one hoof to slowly move a branch an inch higher so he could see out. Prey was a runt. Scenic could run faster than him, and Crimson could fly. Thus, it was decided he would make poor bait, and would instead hide while Scenic and Crimson tried to draw off as many kindersnatches as possible on a wild goose chase.

'And hope the warlock doesn't take the opportunity to pincer them between his kindersnatches here, and the ones back at the stone circle.' Prey thought, unable to see any but the worst possible outcomes.

Always expect the worst, and then you were halfway there to how bad it will actually be.

Thus, when he'd hidden here under this bush, erasing any scuff marks he might've left crawling in and stuffed his wool full of dead pine needles so as to blend in, he already had an escape route planned out in his head.

Peering out from under the tangled bush, even from here Prey could see that Scenic was shaking. Prey could also hear the wood axe across the stallion's back under the make shift cloak rattling against his armour as he shook. The stallion was afraid, and he had every right to be afraid. It was his job to walk out into plain view of the kindersnatches, and then make them all chase him back into the forest.

Even though the plan was for Crimson to switch roles as bait, because he was the one with the magical necklace and could fly, Scenic's task was not an enviable one.

'Will he really do it?' Prey thought, studying Scenic. Would the Earth pony actually have the courage to go through with it? 

There was a rustle of pine needles and a creak of branches. Scenic flinched and looked up to see Gloom sticking his head back beneath the tree canopy. He gave Scenic the nod.

To give Scenic his due, he only hesitated. He hesitated, but he still did it. Visibly gathering his courage, Scenic marched forwards to the rise and then over it, at which point he left Prey's line of sight.

Twenty seconds later, there was the frantic muffled galloping thud of hooves on pines needles and Scenic reappeared.

Only Prey's eyes turned to watch him as Scenic raced past, whites of his eyes wide, but Prey could hear the rising gurgling coming after him from over the rise just fine.

Scenic dashed behind a knot of three tightly packed pine trees and was lost from view for a second. Then, out the other side, Crimson appeared, the ratty cloak now over his shoulders. Crimson glanced back to ensure he was still being followed, then took off into the forest at what looked like a dead sprint but what Prey knew to only be a run for Crimson.

It wasn't perfect. Even with the cloak on to hide Crimson's pegasus heritage, it wasn't a perfect deception. Crimson had even exchanged his armour with Gloom to get the coat changing colour enchantment back to match with Scenic's coat.

This ruse was done because maybe the warlock remembered Crimson, the one who'd taken down their first scarecrow, and thus maybe wouldn't let their kindersnatches give chase. But Scenic was just an Earth pony. Although maybe all the kindersnatches would've instinctively chased anyways. They just didn't know. So much they didn't know.

Loud gurgling and thrashing undergrowth was speedily rushing towards Prey's hiding place under the bush, and for that terrible moment Prey was left to helplessly wonder if his hiding place was good enough. And then came the broken mental screaming and deafened Prey.

'-Aaa-ArRarARG_ggHHHh__AIIiIiiEEaaRRAAHhhgh-HhA-'

The kindersnatches swarmed past, root legs stabbing into the dirt and the scent of rotting mould chasing along in their wake.

The tortured gurgling was nothing. The mental screaming was almost deafening. but none of the wicker parasites stopped, all lurching madly after Crimson into the mist.

Prey remained still as the gurgling and rustling undergrowth faded. Crimson would be fine, Prey was sure. Almost sure. 

He should be fine, he could fly, and even if it came down to a straight fight, Prey thought it almost certain Crimson could take out all the kindersnatches on his own with the magic of that jade necklace. But doing so would likely leave Crimson completely drained once again, and unable to move afterwards.

And what if Crimson stumbled into some other monster while he was at it? Prey had warned him not to stray into the baloth's territory, but there were plenty of other dangers out there. Prey hadn't forgotten or forgiven Crimson for the Wolfing Wood, but he still dreaded the thought of Crimson maybe dying.

No, enough of that. It was all beyond Prey's control now. Prey needed to stop focusing on Crimson and start being more concerned with himself.

Prey waited, counting his heartbeats. '...Sixty-seven, sixty-eight, sixty-nine...'

Scenic's head emerged from behind the knot of trees where he'd hidden, frantically glancing around in every direction before ducking back. When still nothing happened, Scenic hesitantly emerged, ears straight back and tightly gripping the wood axe in his jaw.

Prey waited to see if anything jumped out on Scenic.

Only once Prey was completely sure he was unobserved, did he very slowly and cautiously crawl out from under the bush and vines, hugging the dirt to stop branches getting caught in his wool and whipping noisily back.

It was eerily still and quiet. He couldn't hear any gurgling coming from over the small rise.

Had all of the kindersntaches really run off after Crimson? Did none stay to keep guard on the basin?

That made no sense, not unless the warlock wasn't actively controlling these kindersnatches right now, or....

Or Gloom was about to be deeply disappointed. Damn. Now Prey would have to make sure Gloom didn't react in despair and give another hasty order. Gloom just might try and lash out at the warlock when he found his hopes once again dashed.

Hope really was the cruellest. It built you up, just to cut you down.

Prey pointed a hoof at Scenic, making sure the clearly still strained Earth pony noticed, before he pointed up towards the rise. Gloom was already supposed to be flying over there right now and descending through the gap in the canopy.

And also very shortly discovering the townspeople of Alfalfa Dale were no longer imprisoned in those four holding pits.

Prey coldly considered what he might have to do if Scenic and Gloom completely broke down and became unstable.

The basin was indeed completely abandoned. Not one wicker kindersnatch was left drinking from the stream, just the muddy streaks where they had charged out of the water after Scenic.

Kicked up pine needles, trampled bushes, and the pockmark track holes everywhere.

And there by the pine bough roof of the closest pit, was Gloom.

Scenic rushed down the small rise and straight towards Gloom.

Prey wanted to shout at him for being so careless, but shouting would be bad. Just because it looked like all the kindersntaches were gone, didn't mean they really were.

Ducking behind a tree and circling round, Prey took a more circumspect route down and around the side of the basin, making use of cover and his small size as much as possible.

How long would it be before the warlock realised his base camp had been infiltrated? Those bird skull stakes would've certainly done something when all the kindersnatches chased out after Crimson.

Prey had the dreadful feeling an invisible hourglass was trickling down towards something going horribly wrong.

Prey arrived as Gloom was letting the branch of the last pits roof he'd levered up fall back into place. His face and body posture said it all.

"Nothing. They're gone."

 Scenic's ears fell, "Gone?" He asked hopelessly.

"As in, they were here?" Prey asked, never ceasing to keeping turning and watching.

"Yes. They were in there. They had to...relieve themselves in the pit. But now they're gone."

"So where are the tracks?" Prey asked.

It was a good question. There was a huge mess of hoof tracks in the kicked up pine needles leading to the four pits, but Prey couldn't see a coordinated line leaving the now empty pits. How had the townsfolk been moved? Not that it really mattered. They were already gone.

Gloom raised a trembling hoof, then punched the hoof high mud wall that ringed the closest pit with all his might. His hoof went halfway through the crumbling dirt, "Too late. Too late again." He hissed.

Now what? 

That was the question. Go wait at the rendezvous point at the ravine to meet backup with Crimson once he'd shaken off the kindersnatches? The longer they stayed here doing nothing, the greater the risk. They needed to be doing something, moving, planning, taking action, anything.

Never stop moving, keep the enemy guessing.

Prey's eyes passed over the far side of the basin, at a point with a particularly steep bit of earth and rock, and then snapped back. There, beside that tree, exactly what he'd been looking for. A dark entrance.

Prey pointed, "In there."

The warlock had to have a workspace and a place to sleep somewhere, and Prey hadn't seen anywhere else in the basin that fitted.

Gloom immediately zeroed in on where Prey was pointing. "A cave."

He pronounced the words like he meant to commit murder inside that cave if he was lucky enough to find the warlock hiding in there.

"I think I see it too" Scenic whispered, squinting, however Gloom had already started forwards, making straight for the rough stone entrance.

"Wait, it might be trapped." Prey hissed, darting in front of Gloom. How had the pony race survived this long?

"If that is indeed the warlock's lair, they're not going to trap their own dwelling." Gloom said, not slowing his stride.

"That doesn't mean it can't still be a trap. In fact, it's the perfect place to set a trap since there's only one entrance."

Gloom simply levelled his spear and sped up.