The “cat” encircled its claws, creating an arc of sharp edges. Retracting them, it prepared to decapitate Granite’s neck from behind.
Two hisses of steam rang out as harpoon guns fired, embedding two pronged javelins into the feline beast. One lodged itself in an arm, the force flipping the cat over, pushing the retracting claws over Granite’s head as a consequence. The other harpoon punctured where a heart should have been, prompting a burst of black ooze studded with diamond dust.
It didn’t die. It didn’t react beyond a grunt that was forced out when it hit the ground. Leaping up, it pointed its claws at Granite again, this time extending them forward to stab him through the heart. His response was to shoot his harpoon into the monster’s open mouth, flipping it head over heels into the muddy ground once more.
Now with three rods of angled metal driven into its flesh, the creature was having a little difficulty moving around. It saw a mass of fist-shaped-hair coming for it and was unable to even attempt a dodge. Once again, it went flying—but this time it landed on its back legs. Using its unharmed paw, it extended claws at the closest target: Wiffle.
Wiffle, having already shot his harpoon, could do little to stop the claws. He rolled, but one of the bloodied blades drove itself into his armor, puncturing the hard metal with laughable ease. A stallion of muscle, Wiffle was not one to cry out when injured, but the sight of his blood let everypony know it wasn’t a shallow wound.
A splash rang out.
The next thing the furred wyrd knew, a pink seapony had driven her teeth into the back of its neck, tearing out the spine. All contact between the head and the body ceased, retracting all claws into the body—a state the wyrded creature was no longer meant to occupy. The fully retracted claws tore up its paws, reducing all four legs to stumps.
The head kept yowling until Rook sank her teeth into its third eye, prompting a gush of sparkling, silvery liquid to pour out onto the ground. Rook spat it out, gagging.
“Heh. Bet you wish you had one of these!” Granite laughed, hefting up his empty harpoon gun.
Rook didn’t stop gagging. She curled up and began flopping around frantically.
“There’s no way it tastes that bad…”
“She needs water, idiot!” Sparkler shouted, running to Rook with hair outstretched. She hit the seapony like a bulldozer, throwing her back into the lake.
A moment later, Rook’s face surfaced again, shooting Granite a death glare.
“In all fairness it looked like you were choking on the silver stuff,” Granite said, holding up a hoof in surrender. “Which definitely isn’t normal.”
Rook shot him a “no, really?” look.
“Heh… Wiffle, how’s the injury?”
“Hurts like an Ambrosian Savage Weasel,” Wiffle said with a bitter laugh, popping off the leg on his suit to get a look. It was a deep, but relatively small gash just under his shoulder. Not exactly life-threatening if treated, but a heavy hindrance in a tense situation.
“You’ve never been bitten by an Ambrosian Savage Weasel, have you?” Sparkler asked.
“What, have you?”
Sparkler raised an incredulous eyebrow. “I’m from Ambrosia, you daft twit. Of course I have. Getting one of those things on you is like having the raging fury of Celestia on your plot for hours while ants crawl through your bloodstream. ”
Wiffle stared blankly at her.
“Oi for the… just lemme patch you up.” Sparkler used her hair to pull out her miniature medical kit and set to work. She split her hair into several fine strands and took out a needle, holding it up to make sure it was clean. “Vespid don’t got anything on me.”
“Just get it over with,” Wiffle muttered, laying down, wound pointed upward for easy access. With a disturbingly calm and gleeful smile, Sparkler cleaned the cut, prompting Wiffle to hiss in pain.
Granite looked away from their semi-psychotic “medic” and turned to the corpse of the cat-beast. “I have seen a lot of wyrded things in my time. I even saw some cats before, though they were more catfish than anything else. I’ve never seen something like this. And that eye… that isn’t normal.”
“Something’s clearly up with this island,” Sparkler said as she lifted the needle and plunged it into Wiffle. “Stay still!”
“Has anypony heard anything about shiny eyes?” Granite asked, glancing around. Everypony shook their heads, including Rook. “Any idea what this place is?” Again, nothing. “Then it’s time to collect samples for the bigwigs at Sanctaphrax. Lob?”
Lob trotted up to the cat’s carcass and took out a few bottles, filling one with the creature’s blood and the other with the sparkling liquid that came from the eye itself. It sloshed around in the bottle rapidly, faster even than water. “Doesn’t feel like there’s anything in here,” Lob said.
“Hah! They’re gonna love that!” Sparkler chuckled. “What laws of chemistry?”
Granite didn’t care about the viscosity or weight of the material—that didn’t change their situation. Turning back to the golden temple in the distance, he set his jaw. “Wiffle, lock yourself in the Hex. Keep checking the radio. If they get through, tell them where we went.”
“Yes, s-AAAA—!” Wiffle screamed.
“Whoops! Hit a nerve!” Sparkler laughed nervously. “But hey, you’re stitched up! Good as new!”
Wiffle let out a groan.
“Well, you will be. Eventually.”
Granite continued. “Sparkler, Lob, Rook, we’re going to that temple. Be on guard for an attack. See a cat, aim for the eye. Sparkler…”
Sparkler sent out a ping. “Still can’t see far. Won’t be much help. Though when my spell wasn’t being blocked, most of the minds I detected were in the center. I’m betting that’s the temple.”
“Then we’re charging right into danger…” Granite grinned. “Excellent.”
Rook let out a grunt.
“We’ll figure out what to do with you when we get to the other side of the lake.”
Rook rolled her eyes and sighed.
~~~
The Admiral hadn’t been in a proper jungle in years. At first, she was a little concerned she would be rusty.
Her worries were unfounded. After setting out into the jungle she had identified a proper climbing tree and latched onto it with her wingtips, climbing to the canopy. She perched on one of the branches and glanced down at the forest floor, examining the wet ground for signs of life. Despite the rushing water that came through here recently, the plants still looked as though they were part of a proper jungle and she could already make out a few sets of animal tracks. Rodents, birds, snakes… and a copious amount of bugs.
None of which looked like they should be able to survive underwater. But here they were nonetheless.
It didn’t make any sense. She wasn’t complaining—if it did make sense she wouldn’t be specially suited for survival.
Sparkler mentioned the center of the island as the place where all the minds were congregating, so that seemed as good of a goal as any. Spreading her wings, she jumped to the next tree like a nimble monkey, latching onto branches with the tips of her wings and tossing herself forward. She may not have been able to fly, but wings were amazing for jump control if a pony knew how to use them. The harpoon gun slung over her back made things slightly more difficult, but not enough to concern her.
Her confidence faltered when she saw a massive paw print that left gashes in the ground below it. Some kind of feline creature with paws larger than the Admiral’s hooves and outrageously proportioned, numerous claws. A wyrd of some kind, clearly, though not one the Admiral was familiar with. The only wyrd creature she had seen with feline features had been catfish, and those were pretty rare. They wouldn’t make the track she was looking at, that was for sure.
The tricks for luring pumas away might not help very much here. She prepared herself for a sudden ambush.
What does it say about me that I know exactly how to prepare for a predatory ambush in a jungle? the Admiral thought to herself, laughing inwardly. We should have hunted those pumas to extinction, but no, had to keep the natural order of the island… It’s what Luna would have wanted, they said…
She shook her head to stop herself. Don’t dwell on the past. Don’t.
With a burst of speed, she swung to another tree, and then another, making brisk pace to the center of the jungle.
She stopped the instant she heard a yowl in the distance. Instinctually, she backed away to the densest portion of the tree, surrounded by so many leaves and branches it was difficult to see out, let alone in. It’d be hard to find her even if something was looking for her.
As it turned out, she likely didn’t need this level of stealth, since the wyrd cat had other things to worry about besides a nice meal. It barrelled through the jungle at high speeds, making as much noise as it could—not out of fear, since a wyrd couldn’t really feel such an emotion. No, it was calling for help.
The Admiral wondered what could cause such a massive, deadly mess of hair and claws to think it needed help. A massive wyrd creature? A dragon, perhaps?
No.
Just a pegasus.
The dark, feathered shape dropped out of the sky, pinning the cat against the Admiral’s tree. Here, the Admiral could make out the cat’s third eye, watching in disgust and fascination as the peagsus’ bony wingtips punctured the silvery organ, spewing an unnatural liquid all over the ground.
The pegasus itself was clearly a wyrd of some sort, with the blank white eyes with pooling red clots. It had gills like a seapony, but its mane was full and it had no fins to speak of, instead keeping both of its wings—even if said wings had more bone visible than skin or muscle, they somehow still allowed flight. All four of its hooves were cracked and sharpened along the edges, covered in dark blood and diamond liquid that definitely wasn’t its own. A compass rose cutie mark in almost perfect condition stood upon the wryd’s flank, but it was far from the most distinctive feature of this unnatural beast.
Not only did it have a third, silvery eye like the cat, but it was also wearing something. A hat. Pale in color, with a green wrap around the center. It looked almost new, as though sitting at the bottom of the ocean hadn’t even waterlogged it.
A jungle that shouldn’t exist and now a hat on a wyrd pegasus in perfect condition. What kind of ridiculous magic is this?
The pegasus turned from the Admiral’s tree and flared its wings at the jungle. As if on cue, three wyrd cats jumped from the foliage, thirsting for revenge.
They were no match for the pegasus’ sharp wings. Its first attack stabbed two of the cats in the eye, spewing the silvery substance over everything. The third cat extended its claws with the intent of cutting the pegasus through the stomach, but the wily wyrd jumped the claws and brought a bony stake to the last remaining eye.
Four dead cats in less than a minute.
The pegasus looked around for more opponents. For a moment, the gaze of its third eye rested on the Admiral.
All her nightmares came rushing back to her. Sitting in a tree, hiding with all the thestrals of the tribe. Deep within the shadows of the tree, they looked like nothing. Except her. She stood out like the moon itself and the pumas would find her and then the—
The pegasus turned away. It took off, flying away at high speed.
The Admiral’s fear turned to jealousy.
Even the monsters can do it...