//------------------------------//
// 07 - Reconnaissance 
// Story: The GATE 
// by scifipony 
//------------------------------//

I crouched in a pocket woods after a perfect teleport.  I shivered as the breeze blew into my short coat.  It was nippy outside.

The barking arrows went off intermittently beyond the other side of the garage and I judged no creature would think anything of the rather innocuous sound of a teleport in comparison.  I didn't want to open the garage door to alert any creature in the woods.  While botany wasn't my forte, I recognized a species of scrub oak and a sedge which was at a perfect height to conceal me.  And it smelled tasty, reminding me of Fluttershy's Arboreal Spring salad.  

This semi-arid land definitely wasn't Equestria, but I took a chomp and chewed, thinking.   A mild pepper flavor burned on my tongue. 

Like a sedge.

The sky was blue, and the breeze did feel nice and fresh, despite bits of blown dust and the shade I stood in.  The world looked washed out, though, like the color had been drained.  I'd been to the badlands out near Appleloosa and Dodge Junction many times, and this felt even more washed out, which was kind of sad.  Paint on the corrugated steel siding might have cheered up the view.   A color other than the dirty stained-brown one on the giant house a few hundred pony-lengths behind me certainly would have helped. 

Was this why the gate had suddenly appeared?  Had harmony been planning on extending the cutie map into another territory?  

I crept around the garage to the front.  From there, I saw at least two dozen trucks parked on hard-packed light tan dirt.  There were a few cars.  All were painted black, gray, or dark green.  All were filthy, but that might be because of the ubiquitous dirt.

Cognizant of the bipeds that had gone before me, I snuck to the opposite side of the garage from the house to find something quite interesting.  Dozens of bipeds stood in front of wood stalls, facing away from the garage and house and truck park completely.  Pretty much as a whole, they wore the blue pants and farm shirts I'd seen on the invaders.  Billed caps predominated, though I saw only one that was red.  Each appeared to be armed with one sort or another of barking arrow.  A couple bipeds—and these wore flannel shirts that greatly resembled those of the invaders—seemed to be assisting the rest of the gaggle of creatures.  Not long after I started watching, I heard the slam of truck doors.  One of the flannel-dressed bipeds greeted the new arrivals.  A newcomer passed over some pieces of paper.  I could recognize bits when I saw them.  The flannel biped pointed at a sign with unintelligible lettering.  When the other nodded, I realized it was a set of rules.

It was a business!

And this business was a place where the bipeds could practice with their barking arrows.  

I quickly realized the device had nothing to do with arrows.  Each casting, or shot, resulted in an immediate impact of a distant target.  For those interested in precision, there was a clothesline arrangement for setting up a target.  Others weren't so interested, and just judged by eyesight alone.  Likely it was cheaper that way.  I heard lots of joking and shouting and unmistakable fun going on, though it felt sinister to me.

Call me prejudiced.  Having lived in Canterlot, living in one of Celestia's ivory towers, visiting the castle grounds daily, I'd seen the royal guard practicing often.  Spears.  Javelins.  Bows and arrows.  I'd never seen that as sinister.

Maybe I needed to think it through, better.  Be more relativistic and tolerant. 

I rapidly came to a conclusion.  The bipeds, neither the customers nor the flannel proprietors, were military.  Some small good news in that, though a mad pony could still hurt other ponies,  Invaders, like parasprites and bear-bugs, while not in Lord Tirek's class, could still mete out a great deal of damage.  The bipeds, I suspected, more so.

I really needed more information to judge the mass and throw of the barking arrows.  I felt I could guess it from what I saw at a range nearly five-hundred pony-length away, but I didn't want anypony's life to depend on me guessing, wrong.  I need something to test.

With increasing confidence, I turned toward the house.