Prey awoke that evening to back cramps.
It had been a while since one of these attacks had happened, making it almost expected in its overdue nature. After restlessly tossing and turning, and dreaming over the ice-eyed ambassador's warning, it wasn't even surprising.
That didn't make it any better, or any less agonising and humiliating. 'HateYouStingerHateYouHateYou.'
Prey lay tangled in his blanket, panting for a quiet minute after the wracking spasms passed.
These random attacks were just a factor in his life, an unpleasant and unavoidable part of reality. Sufferers all around the world afflicted with one permanent ailment or the other knew the feeling. The fatalistic, helpless frustration. Knowing that there was nothing you could do about it.
Then Prey groaned and got up, going over to the cupboard and pulling out something for an early breakfast. Dry bland oats, and a glass of water. No fudge cake or candy for breakfast. 'Unfortunate.'
Usually he ate whatever slop Cookie decided to serve in the mess hall, but he'd woken early today.
'Hate you so much Stinger.'
He went back and forth from the tap to the windowsill, watering his pot plants and herbs in between mouthfuls of oats. Chewing, he eyed the Blood Fern in the early afternoon light. Crimson had been stuck so long in Griffonstone, that it looked like he'd have to be the one to 'water' the Blood Fern with a few drops of its namesake soon.
'He'd better have gotten my package, and be getting better by now. Or else.' Prey thought threateningly to no one in particular.
But that was just a minor distraction to his deeper concerns. Namely, what to do, if anything, about Felyawn, and the griffin embassy as a whole. The ambassador was under the impression he'd swayed Average Accountant into undertaking the task because of his, admittedly very genuine seeming, concerns. It had even served to plant a seed of doubt in Prey's own mind. However Prey and Lemon were not bound in any way into actually upholding the agreement.
Prey absently scratched at the now no longer new fur which'd grown back as far as it was going to across his cheeks. It covered the poison scars as much as it would, and decided he may as well enjoy a nice shower while he thought.
Showers were amazing. Prey had and would maintain it as one of the only good invented inventions ponies had ever envisioned to invent.
But throughout the shower, standing under the hot stream and listening to the gurgle of water, Felyawn's planted seed of doubt still lay there. Dormant, but still present.
---
As the sun slowly began its descent, Prey was just walking through the Guard Compound's Entrance. Today, or rather tonight, he even happened to spy Honey Topaz on his way in, (that stupid mare who'd tried to pick him up and whom he'd rightly bitten in response), on her own way out.
Not that it was important to Prey, Topaz was a nobody to him now, but he still automatically took note. She'd apparently chosen to store her armour in her locker on site, and thus didn't have the white coat changing enchantment to disguise her, but Prey never forgot the face of someone who'd wronged him, yellow fur or white fur didn't matter.
'Foolish. That enchantment is specifically there to help you hide your identity outside of work. You may not think you have any enemies, but that doesn't mean you don't. Me, for instance.'
Prey slipped to the side, and Topaz didn't notice a thing as she trotted right past him. She was blithely chatting up a storm to a couple of her Royal Guard friends, none of them paying attention, just like typical ponies. Their shifts were over, so for what reason would they still need to be on guard? Prey contemptuously tossed his ear back at their blind inattention, and headed into the Lower Palace. Seriously, he'd been skulking right there. 'Ponies.'
Felyawn may not even need the services of Average Accountant, the average pony was so unobservant. The ambassador could probably fly right into Ponyville himself, take the Elements of Harmony the griffins were so set on stealing, and fly right back out without getting caught. Well, maybe not Felyawn himself, ponies were unobservant but they were also xenophobic. But hiring any random pony pickpocket would probably have as good a chance at success as any.
On the topic of being unobservant, Prey hadn't yet noted his distant watcher tonight. So far, he'd only felt the feeling of eyes twice, and only when leaving work the following afternoon, after a full night and morning of work. And he could only hypothesise on why that was.
Did they somehow not yet know where he lived? Were they only interested in when he left the Palace, and not arrived? Something else? He'd have to see if they tried to track him again when he left here tomorrow.
'I don't know who you are, but this isn't a game I'm playing. If I catch you...'
Well, if he caught them, they'd probably never even know about it.
'It's looking more and more like it's Strange Happenstance, not the mimics, with how I seem to lose whomever they are so easily. Unless that's what they want me to think.'
Prey just couldn't know for sure. He added it to his growing pile of worries and doubts.
---
Prey was once again sitting on the slightly rickety stool behind the ISND's desk, a mess of papers in front of him, a lantern for light, and a quill in cleft hoof.
This was life. Another day at the grindstone. Out there somewhere, someone was having the best day of their life, and someone was also having the worst. Someone was right now giving birth, someone was laughing with friends, and someone else was eating a baked potato with extra strong melted blue cheese. The point was, there was life going on around the world, in all the corners of the land, completely independently of whatever work Prey did here today inside this very office.
There was nothing like some perspective to remind you how small you were in the grand scheme of things. And nothing like an alicorn to provide that perspective.
Luna, or Nightmare Moon, either or, cast such a long shadow that they eclipsed nearly all else. No pun intended. Prey still didn't know which he believed, that the night princess had been possessed by a demon, or whether she and Nightmare Moon were actually secretly one and the same.
Not that he could do anything about it either way, since she was in power with her hated sister, both of them immortal, and ruling the country. That's how big the issue was that Felyawn, and the Griffonian government he secretly represented, had raised. It was as large as countries, as nations, kings, queens, governments and entire generations.
Prey, with all his warring, fighting, and murdering to survive, was small. It was personal, and below the level of national notice. But Luna was an alicorn. One which had tried to freeze the world a thousand years ago, and had returned to try again a second time earlier this very year. That was big, it was huge, and it was known world wide.
And it seems Griffonia hadn't been anywhere as forgiving as Luna's dear sweet older sister. Griffonia was in the right. Luna had tried to murder them all. And yet here Luna was, sitting on the throne, back in power, and free from consequences. No one in Equestria seemed to get it. To them, there hadn't really been a threat, because they didn't doubt for even a second that Princess Celestia would have saved them if it came down to that.
Griffonia didn't accept that. They weren't ruled by an alicorn, so where was their protection and insurance? Why were they being forced to stand back and let Luna get away with it? If she really was Nightmare Moon, and the demoness was actually just a facet of Luna's suppressed psyche, they had every right to protest and shout out.
Prey wondered how many other nations out there felt the same, but were helpless to do anything about it? The zebras, diamond dogs, Minotaurs, yaks, and the others? They too might have sent emissaries to Celestia, asking for more sets of the Elements of Harmony to be made much as the griffins had, only to be ignored just as completely.
Luna had tried to destroy the world not once, but twice, and she was now in a joint position of power. How could they not be worried?
That seed of doubt also sat in Prey's heart, because although he believed that the Sun Wolf would never have really sat back, hooves off, and gambled everything on six forgotten artifacts given to five strangers plus one devoted pupil, the griffins definitely believed it. And that was enough to at least make him think twice. It was impossible, of course, but still, what if?
It made you think.
'The ambassador is going to go after these Elements of Harmony either with the assistance of Average Accountant, or some other thief. The griffin was dead set, I saw that.' Prey recalled the information Felyawn had shared to the disguised Lemon Pink, and therefore also himself, while in that private restaurant booth.
The griffin ambassador had pulled out a brown packet of papers and spread them out on the table, tapping a gleaming talon on a sheet with six labelled sketches on it. The drawings had been of what the six Elements of Harmony were supposed to look like, which turned out to be six ridiculously cut and shaped gems, five of them necklaces and one a crown for some reason. They each had the label of either laughter, honesty, generosity, kindness, loyalty, or magic attached. Next was a basic bio of the six supposed bearers of the artifacts names, which for some reason were all mares, and marked maps of the town Ponyville, apparently where the artifacts were being held.
It was all very suspicious and practically screamed; trap!
Prey had two questions before him. The first; to take the thief job or not? He could safely cut off all contact and disappear, and Felyawn would never be able to track him or Lemon down. The second question was; now that he knew who was really behind the spying in the gemstone trade as well as why, should he leak that information to the Night Guard? Gloom and Crimson were still stuck in Griffonstone going after that ambassadorial aide, Hafflow, after all.
And if he got it wrong, whichever he chose, Prey was very sure there could be horrible consequences. Nothing happens in a vacuum. The choice he made would have consequences one way or the other.
Prey restlessly twiddled the quill in his hoof, staring unseeingly at the half filled out form before him, 'What do I choose? I can't wait forever. Hafflow's expecting Average Accountant to make an attempt in the next few days, and wants to be kept updated. If I want to cut off all contact or inform on him, it needs to be soon. Tonight, or tomorrow at the latest.'
Prey didn't want to choose, because that would commit him to a path and facing possibly dire consequences, even if in the best case scenario it only ended up being indirectly. But he still needed to choose, and choose soon, or else lose the option to choose at all. He was going to start doubting and second guessing himself, and it was going to spiral downwards from there, he could feel it.
This was all too far above his head. A mad vengeful alicorn, both the Low and High Griffin kingdoms, protected Equestrian soil, and the potential for escalation into the dreadful possibility of war.
The feathery end of the quill carried on twirling just in front of Prey's nose, unable to settle.
'This is hopeless, I'm not getting anything done. I could be doing rune work at the least, but I'm just sitting here and can't decide-'
The runic array linked to the corridor outside of the office pinged, signalling movement coming closer. Prey quickly sat up and looked to the door, just as the person arrived. *Trat-Trat-trat*
"Who is it? Come in."
The door clicked open, and a tired looking thestral in armour leaned in, "Lieutenant Screech wants you." Then he was already gone, hurrying off to whatever his next task was.
'Because of course you couldn't tell me what this mystery task is before you disappear, can you? Well, far be it from me to keep the dear wonderful Lieutenant waiting on some all-important but unknown job.' Prey slotted the quill back into the inkwell and slipped off the stool.
---
Prey trooped through the Night Guard section of the Palace until he got to Nighthawk's office, where Screech was supposed to have been working in the Captain's stead. Unfortunately, tonight it seemed he wasn't. Obviously, the Lieutenant's new location had slipped the tired thestral messenger's mind. Prey gave the Captain's office a once over, just in case, since there was enough Night Guard paraphernalia in storage in there for someone to hide, but no, it was empty of the Lieutenant.
Wonderful. Now Prey had to find him. Just what he needed to start the night, a practice round of detective to get his hoof in before whatever it was Screech no doubt wanted him to do.
'Well, he sent for me, but he's not in his borrowed office, so the next most likely place is his actual Lieutenant's office.' So thinking, Prey turned himself back around and trotted off.
What had Screech distracted enough to make such a silly mistake? It wasn't anything big, but maybe it was just a deeper indicator of how overworked the Lieutenant was becoming. He was filling in for the other two Lieutenants plus the Captain all by himself, after all.
And indeed, Screech certainly did have a harried edge about him when Prey successfully found him in, surprise-surprise, his old Lieutenant office. He looked up from digging through an open drawer stuffed with files, "Prey? Good, you're here. I need you to vet somepony."
'And a good evening to you too.' Prey thought. "Vet someone, sir?"
"Somepony. A former Royal Guard, who left about a year ago for personal reasons. Now he wants to return, and has specifically applied to the Night Guard because the night shifts apparently suit him better. I need you to vet him. I'm busy, and you've got the proper insight."
'Okay, in theory that isn't too much trouble. Officially against hoofbook protocol, I'm not an officer, but still not too much trouble.' Prey allowed, "I can do that. I'm assuming he has a file?"
"Yes, the records department should've pulled it already, you can pick it up. Read up on him, have a look, see if you think he can be trusted for a Private level entry into the Night Guard. Or if he can come but should be watched. This could easily be somepony trying to get an informer into our ranks." Screech said, shoving the drawer shut and pulling open the next.
'-got enough new recruits from the clans who've answered Luna's call. But we can't deny a genuine potential recruit. That is, if they really are genuine-'
Prey understood Screech's suspicion. Why would some Guard who'd been off for the last year want to return, and return into the Night Guard instead? On top of that, the timing was suspicious. There had only been two transfers over from the Royal Guard who'd wanted to stay in the Night Guard, those being Scenic and Lilly, (and look how well that had turned out). The rest had gleefully gone back to their normal duties in the Royal Guard as soon as the Night Guard had the bare minimum numbers necessary to operate with.
So Prey understood Screech's suspicion. That didn't mean he actually cared, but thanks to being a press-ganged convict, he had to pretend to care anyway. "Alright, I'll find the file and have a look at the why's and how's, sir."
"Thank you," Screech said, not finding whatever he was looking for in this desk drawer either, but he paused before moving onto the next. He looked meaningfully at Prey:
"Sargent Gloom and Crimson send their regards, and hope you are well. They said to tell you that Crimson is feeling much better too. And unrelated to that, but to the issue you know about, they predict they'll all soon be able to leave and return to Canterlot."
Prey let out his breath. 'So I was right and it did help Crimson if he's now better.' That was excellent news, the best Prey'd had all week actually. The disaster waiting to happen with Felyawn and Griffonia was soon going to come to a head, especially with what Screech had just said about them soon fulfilling their undercover mission and returning, but at least he knew Crimson wasn't strangely and dangerously ill anymore.
"That's... good news if they can pull it off, sir." Prey said neutrally. He didn't know what plan Nighthawk and the others had come up with to infiltrate the compound over in Griffonstone and grab Hafflow, but he did know how difficult the location was. The compound was situated right under the castle, with eyes from the garrison overseeing it at all times. The griffins could scramble a response in minutes, and like thestrals, they could also fly. Prey could only fervently hope that it was a good solid plan.
"I have faith in Captain Nighthawk. They'll pull it off." Screech told him confidently.
"Yes. I'll go get that file and start then. Unless there was anything else? Sir." Prey added, brushing a drooping ear back.
"No, go ahead. Drop a note in my in-tray with the outcome. Or find me if it's immediately important." Screech said, going back to searching the drawers.
'-really need to ask about that silly blue ribbon one day-', Screech thought in a moment of distraction, but then just like that, the thought slipped from his mind, '-come on, moon take it, I know the thing's in here somewhere-'
Prey left the thestral Lieutenant to it and trudged off in the direction of the Records Department to get this file. He had a feeling the clerks were going to be difficult about it.
---
Prey flicked through the stallion in question's old Royal Guard file, but really didn't see much of use. Things like medical history, name, age, next of kin, address, pony species, and uneventful service history weren't actually of any discernible worth to Prey. None of that told him whether the stallion was a plant or not.
'Let's see, a pegasus called Rising Star, age thirty-one, lives in Cloudsdale and commutes to Canterlot for work. Was in the Royal Guard for five years, nothing major in the notes, a few minor merits and demerits, attended boot camp, yadda yadda, blood type AB, put in papers for a discharge with reason stated as a family crisis, doesn't say what, was given a redundancy package anyways, blah blah blah. Nothing here about who this Rising Star really is. I bet his parents were so chuffed at their naming sense, too. Pretentious, or what?'
There was a small photo paperclipped to the top page, showing a golden yellow stallion, with a brilliant white spikey mane, a slightly cocky grin, and a confident gaze.
The question of whether Rising Star was trustworthy or not would best be answered by meeting the pegasus in person. Mind reading capabilities were so useful like that. Although this was just a minor distraction to Prey's much more important issue of Felyawn and the griffins, this check on Rising Star did present Prey with a slight question.
And that was, if the pegasus was trying to join the Night Guard for ulterior motives, and those motives were also well hidden, should he expose Rising Star or not? Prey was willing to bet that Screech would take his word for it and block Rising Star if he just said so. After all, wasn't the rest of the ISND currently over in Griffonia chasing after a spy that Prey had uncovered? But that was only if Rising Star was obviously dodgy. If he hid it well, should Prey just let him join up anyways?
Although it may be a bit late, again because of the uncovering Hafflow thing, perhaps he shouldn't appear too competent in sniffing out secrets. It might make some people nervous.
It would be normal for him by this point to make at least one mistake. Or just appear unsure. Unless it was very obvious with Rising Star, he could just tell the Lieutenant; "I'm a bit suspicious, but I can't find anything wrong. I'm neither for nor against. It's up to you sir."
Prey could do either or. Both were options. Normally he would be worried about continuing to prove his usefulness to Luna, but this was just a small thing and wasn't actually in his purview. He could get away with it, and doing so might help curb the ridiculously mounting expectations Nighthawk and the others had of the ISND. But that would only happen when Rising Star slipped up and exposed himself, and who knew how long that would take? If, that is, he was guilty in the first place. It didn't do anything for the problem right now.
'I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. I haven't even interrogated, no, wrong word, interviewed the stallion yet. Who knows? He may even be clean.' Prey thought, giving the attached photo a last glance before flipping the file shut and tossing it to the side. He'd be dealing with Rising tomorrow when the pegasus came in for his interrogation. Interview. Whichever.
But with that minor annoyance delayed, Prey couldn't help but return to thinking over the encounter with the ambassador yet again. It kept going round and around in the back of his head, that niggling doubt: What if Felyawn really was right?
And Prey still didn't know if he was going to agree to the theft attempt or not. Because the risks and dangers no matter which he chose were, well... Prey had been repeating them over and over again in the hopes that it would persuade, (or even dissuade), himself.
Doubt is a powerful, insidious thing. It gets inside your heart, then into your head. You look away for a moment, and when you look back the doubts had either vanished, or grown from a squirming worm into a wurm.
'A wurm, a monster of stone and earth in the depths. Sizes varies, but all except the young can eat an equine whole, and have. A quarry eel, but worse in every fashion. Seemingly blind. Hunts by tremors, although no one knows for certain. Few wurms have ever been sighted. Or perhaps it's that few witnesses have survived to tell. The more deadly the monster, the shorter the story. You would not even be a mouthful to one.' Snake's remnant hissed out of nowhere.
'Oh for the love of all the dead, I don't need a running commentary! Will you just leave me alone!?' Prey brought his hoof down on the desk hard enough to make the quill in the inkwell rattle.
'Brilliant, now my hoof hurts. Great job, idiot.' Prey berated himself. He should know better by now that Snake's remnant never stayed banished for good.
He wished he had some method of doing so, but no. There weren't even any greater runes Prey knew of which would do it. None which he would risk, anyhow. And the mere thought of the agony carving runes on himself would inflict-
Prey shuddered convulsively, the reaction completely unfiltered. No. Just, just no. Prey hated pain so very much. Prey in theory had an array which would eliminate those cramp attacks across the whip scars which he so hated. But the level of pain that would involve, the sheer heights of it, no, Prey couldn't bring himself to face it. He'd rather suffer random cramp attacks for the rest of his life than suffer the soul deep pain of runes.
It's all very well for someone to say; "Buck up and do it, it's just pain, and once it's over you'll get to enjoy the permanent results." To anyone who said that, Prey would be happy to introduce them to a manticore. Those people didn't know, they didn't have a single clue. No pain no gain is just a saying for working out, that's just a minor discomfort. Not all pain is the same. Some of its bad, and some of it is so much worse. And then some of it is just more.
When pain is so bad that you'll do anything to make it stop, to not endure even one second more of it, when there is literally nothing you wouldn't promise or sacrifice... that there is true pain. And it's horrible.
And Prey hate, hate, hated pain. Prey knew his own willpower, and he didn't lie to himself. He knew his resolve would break right before he began carving the first rune. Prey was not brave, he was realistic.
It would literally have to be a matter of life or death before Prey would be able to psyche himself up enough to willingly subject himself to that, and there would have to be no doubt in his head that those were the only two choices.
Real pain is not a joke or some sort of test. Pain is just pain. Something to be avoided, delayed, and hidden from at every opportunity.
'And there's no point dwelling on a pain that I'm not going to have to feel.' Prey thought, making a concerted effort to put it from his mind. Best not to think about it. He hated pain.
'Let's think about something other than pain,' Prey told himself, 'Something useful. Like whether to have Lemon take Felyawn's job offer, which I really need to make a decision on. Or about how Gloom and Crimson are apparently going to initiate their mission soon and have to run. Or fly, even. At least he's got my electrite feather. Or how about the progress the wickerwatch is making down in the sewers?'
The wickerwatch by this point was well established, and spread throughout eighty percent of the old sewers, those bits which flowed with water at least. The questing tendrils of the artificial plant avoided areas with light, so it wasn't likely to be found in an everyday inspection by maintenance ponies. Or if it was found, hopefully it would just get written off as an odd weed. The wickerwatch could afford to lose stretches of itself to any periodic cleansing the maintenance crews might perform, just so long as they didn't realise the full massive extent of the wickerwatch's web.
It would have to be a brave maintenance crew, though.
The curse of paranoia and fear the wickerwatch had spread wherever it went was still down there, and there to stay. Fear of the dark is a very real and sensible thing, although most ponies seemed to have forgotten that lesson. Fools. It didn't have to be an entity from a Wolfing Wood, there were plenty of more mundane monsters and horrors out there. But ponies were "civilized", they didn't believe in a monster under the bed. At least, that is, until they got a personal reminder.
Venture down into the sewers for just another day on the job, but venture too deep, and it wouldn't be long before you were hurrying back towards daylight, casting repeated glances over your shoulder, telling yourself it's nothing, but at the same time you were right on the brink of breaking and flat out galloping for the ladder. Fear can be a powerful motivator.
The threat of a nameless and formless fear can be just as an effective defence as a solid and known one. If you knew what you were up against it let you make a plan, although sometimes knowing did you no good whatsoever. What would knowing you faced an adult dragon before the actual confrontation change? (Although Prey supposed it might change your decision to take the sensible option and just run away). But in most cases, an individual facing some unknown danger will greatly deter that individual from even trying, choosing instead to avoid it altogether.
But it was no longer a case of only one or the other in the sewers anymore. Now the wickerwatch also possessed a real physical threat as opposed to only a psychological one.
There wasn't really a way to allude to it or ease into it. The submerged tendrils of the wickerwatch now had what ponies would immediately identify as zombies. Or zomponies, since to them everything must be a reference to the species of their great nation of Equestria. But unequivocally as a result of their scariest horror novels, which were banned to foals, they would scream; "Zompony!"
Prey huffed. Like he was going to create real undead, plague spreading zombies and leave them to roam free. The term undead was so misleading too. That implied the person whose body it was had returned to take up residence once again. Like a fabled lich. In most instances of zombieification, what actually happened was something took over the dead body and puppeteered it about, giving it the illusion of 'unlife'. Like a corpse crawler, or a skin walker, or dark magic animating the stiff muscles. Well, those bodies Prey had stolen out of the city morgue certainly weren't 'undead'. No hunger for the flesh of the living or mindless aggression, thank-you-very-much.
In all honesty, what Prey had made out of the four stolen corpses was much closer to a kindersnatch than even a misidentified zombie, although he could concede that they looked mighty similar. The difference between his work and the warlock Hard Baked's was that his worked from the inside out, as opposed to hijacking a body from the outside, and most importantly, the bodies he used were already dead, not tortured victims unable to die.
Prey hated pain, even if he wasn't the one suffering it, and he never tortured for the sake of torture.
But the point was, what Prey had weren't actual zombies.
What he had were extensions to the wickerwatch, quite literally extensions, the wickerwatch tendrils trailing out of these mobile corpses as they sightlessly wandered the dark, water carrying tunnels of the sewers. All those useless organs a dead body didn't require had been removed, like the stomach, heart, lungs, intestines, eyes, tongue, brain, liver, kidneys, etcetera. Really, these bodies could more or less be considered sock-puppets for the wickerwatch.
The thing was though, bodies were such damned useful templates. Prey knew so much about the body sans Snake's diabolic tutelage. There were nerves, tendons, and muscles far more complicated than any artificial puppet Prey could create which moved the body, if not smoothly, then at least not jerkily like the scarecrow and reaper king had.
That, and the corpses he'd acquired had been unicorns during life. That changed things. They weren't like the villagers Hard Baked had used, as dismissive as that sounded. These had been unicorns. They'd been steeped in constant passive magic all of their lives, and what's more, had those mystic leylines inside of them, larger and stronger than in any of the other two pony races, which allowed a unicorn to channel his or her magic. Which respectively meant Prey could do more with them when combined with his runes than he could've with a goat's corpse for example. He had high hopes for his 'zomponies' as a result.
Prey morbidly mused that, once again, it all came down to magic and unicorns being better than everyone else, even in death. He just had four wicker shamblers so far, but he planned to experiment and slowly add to their number as he improved, trying out different versions as and when he was able to secretly retrieve more of them from the morgue.
Prey didn't know what he needed the wickerwatch for anymore, nor what use he would have for the wicker shamblers. But if life had taught him anything, it was that every weapon you had, you will be forced to one day use or perish. Just look at the veropedes, the bone rot mines, Lemon Pink, his ribbon, even himself. All had been used.
'What is it the zebras say on the plains? 'Pray for a peaceful journey, but set out with your spear'.'
A good idiom. Prey had his own saying, one which aligned more closely with his deeper belief; Hunger must be fed, and to eat, there must be prey. No pun intended.
Prey sighed and rocked back precariously on his stool, head tilted back towards the ceiling.
The plaster ceiling was dim, the pool of lamplight only spreading so far from the bubble it cast around the desk. Not that there was anything interesting up there to be looking at anyway. Prey stretched his neck, feeling the unpleasant kink pop but not actually relieve the discomfort. He scowled. The room was just slightly too warm as well. The door was closed, and after hours the heat from the lamp really added up in the enclosed, wooden panelled room. The Palace was also always kept warm too, the chill of the late autumn night firmly denied entry at the Palace's doors. It was an enchantment, Prey knew. Wouldn't want those nobles and diplomats to get cold hoovies in their swan down beds.
The moment of silence stretched as he sat alone in the lamp lit office, looking up at the ceiling, stiff neck complaining. Prey lifted one limp hoof as if reaching for the ceiling, and look at the tracer band. 'I hate Luna.'
The gold carried a dull sheen as he rotated his hoof. His shackle and his leash. If not for these, and also admittedly Luna's dream walking ability, he would be gone from Canterlot and on his way to the border before the night was out.
'But now I know there is some limit on her dream realm. What I saw when she dragged me in there was only what she wanted me to see; Her as an all powerful deity. But I already knew her power was far beyond anything I can hope to achieve, because she's an alicorn and doesn't even have to try. But I also learnt there's an upper limit, even if I don't know what it is.'
Prey pondered on what that meant, 'She can control my dream, but not me in my dream. I'd wager she can manipulate your senses flawlessly and trick you, but she can't control your mind from across the dream realm. I didn't want to be there in the dream, and so that manifested as me not having a dream avatar, which wasn't what Luna was expecting.'
It wasn't much, but it potentially changed everything. He had an experiment he was even now working on in his lair, a runic array which could be worn that prevented the wearer from dreaming at all. Of course, there was no guarantee that'd it could stand up to the full extent of the night alicorn's dream magic, and if he somehow one day escaped but the dream blocking amulet wasn't actually as powerful as he thought...
Besides which, he still had no way to escape these hated tracer bands. He knew what they were created from now, alicorn magic, that exalted pinnacle of power which he'd only recently become aware of and seen once; Witnessing Luna raise the moon in person. He'd felt it, the unquantifiable power. That hadn't been normal magic, it had been celestial magic; alicorn magic.
Prey was stumped. He hadn't given up trying to find a way to slip the tracer bands, but he was no closer to figuring it out than he had been the very first night he was dragged before Luna.
'I hate Luna.' Sometimes, it just bore repeating.
------
And thus Prey procrastinated the night away, and didn't make a decision on Felyawn either way.
The sun rose and he ate one of Cookie's breakfasts in the mess hall, and still he was undecided.
His shift finished and he went home at midday, noting with joint relief and apprehension that he couldn't sense anyone following him today. He subtly signalled to Lemon who was waiting in the crowd that he was in the clear today, and went back to his flat. And was still no closer to picking an option.
Prey knew this calm before the storm, this moment of quiet stillness. Soon it would be broken and everything would be a whirlwind.
He didn't want to choose, he didn't want the consequences which would come from either choice. He wanted this moment of strained peace to last for as long as possible.
When it came down to it, he was afraid to pick, but also afraid not to.
When there are no good options, often the worst thing you can do is to do nothing.
------
Prey went to sleep early, and also got up early in the evening, meaning that after a swift bite to eat, he had just over three and a half hours free before he had to return to the Palace for his next shift.
Sleeping on the problem had not presented Prey with a solution either, and he had to decide by tonight. Or tomorrow even, since his day-night schedule was so messed up because of his Night Guard work. So, he had about twenty hours from now to decide, which meant he had to have Lemon inform Felyawn by tomorrow evening if he was taking the job.
Or instead, don't get back in contact at all, and let Felyawn try with some other scrounged up thief. See how the chips fell as it were, whether that be win or lose.
Prey didn't get that much done in those three and a half hours. At least, not what he considered much, and he spent all of it worrying in the back of his head. So when he and Lemon stole away another dead body from out of the city morgue and changed the coroners memory, he didn't consider it much, just another task which he'd already figured out.
Desecration of the dead. Defiling the last rest. Stealing away a person's last earthly presence. Touching that which should never even be considered.
What would have been a horrifying crime to anyone else was just another tick on Prey's checklist for the day. Besides, he wasn't actively killing for these bodies, they'd all died naturally of age or illness. He only took ones which were going to be cremated anyways.
Snake used to kill for his fresh bodies, by his own hooves or that of the Resistances, it was the same. Voodoo magic had an insatiable hunger for body parts. The twisted zebra had always wanted to get his hooves on an intact unicorn corpse.
'But I'm not murdering them, so that makes it much better.'
Prey didn't have enough time to do anything specific with his newest corpse, just dumped it in his lair inside a freezing runic array to keep it relatively fresh until he found enough time to work on it. He had a new idea of a shambler he needed to test and work out.
After that, it was back to his never ending task; making more runes. Even just an hour before he had to go meant an hour he didn't have to spend later. No matter how mind numbing the process of drawing out the foundations for basic arrays to later decide upon their finishing form, someone had to do it.
Then his time was all up, and he had to head back through the tunnels and out up into Lower Canterlot. He did take a three minute side detour on his way up to the Palace, popping into a sweet store, then back out on his way with a nice paper bag filled with candy. He'd decided he should keep a small stash in the ISND's desk drawer. Just a little something to make the long boring hours not drag quite so painfully slowly.
The thought of eating raspberry and lemon gumdrops after literally handling a dead body didn't phase Prey at all. What should have been sickening barely even registered. He was too desensitised by now, he'd survived the Deeper Green and the Resistance, where by the end, everyone was on the brink of starvation. Besides, he'd washed his hooves.
Prey had literally sat next to the still cooling body of an earth pony Border Guard, the pony's head a mangled mush and front torn open from griffon talons, and eagerly wolfed down the hard biscuit he'd managed to snatch from the Guard's pack before the blooded Resistance fighters had torn the pack away, and fought noisily over the rest. Prey remembered he hadn't even noticed until later that the mud he'd been sitting in was blood soaked earth. He hadn't had the energy to wash it off until the next day either, Prey still recalled. Such was the all consuming need of hunger.
'I like candies. They're sweet, and sugary, and sometimes fizzy or sour. A snatched back moment of a childhood I always wanted. Sweet and nice and satisfying. They taste like the opposite of hate.'
It was really hard to remember during those times of hate, doubt, and fear, when it felt like you were drowning under the frozen black ice and helpless to change who you were, that, sometimes, just sometimes, few and far between, there are the briefest flashes of goodness to remind you why you want to live. And why you're willing to kill to keep living. Because you're hungrier for it than the other guy.
So yes, candy was extremely important in Prey's book, as juvenile as that sounded.
---
Prey entered the Night Guard Palace section and went looking for this Rising Star he was supposed to be interviewing.
Prey actually ended up seeing the pegasus in question first before he could find someone to ask, waiting outside one of the Night Guard offices. The spiky white maned stallion almost perfectly matched his file picture, sitting there looking rather laid back about the whole experience.
Prey stood down at the far end of the corridor around the corner, and covertly watched the pony for a while. Rising Star didn't do much, evidently he thought he was waiting on whomever was inside the office, not realising he was actually here tonight to be checked out by a runt lamb. Although what incriminating actions the golden-yellow furred pegasus was going to undertake while sitting in the middle of the corridor, with thestral Night Guards in armour occasionally hurrying past, Prey didn't know.
He did note that Rising Star sat up straighter every time a thestral passed, nodding a silent hello and following them with his eyes until they disappeared around a corner. But it was that tiny trace of tension in the stallion's posture that Prey really took note of. It was tiny, and Prey didn't even see it at first, but it was still there. He almost missed it, having been focusing on the pegasus's wings and ears. However the usual tell-tale signals of a pony's body language weren't there this time, but rather in Rising Star's actual body posture.
'So he's wary of thestrals. Him and every other racist pony in this blasted city. That doesn't prove anything.'
Although it was uncommon to find a pegasus who was smart enough to control their ears and wings, which were usually their biggest tells. Seemed like Rising had a modicum of intelligence, at least.
'That's either good or bad, I'll decide which after I see some more.' Prey thought, feeling very apathetic towards the source of his next job tonight. 'Although... it wouldn't do him any harm to wait a little bit longer.'
So thinking, Prey decided to pretend he hadn't seen Rising Star waiting there, and instead go straight to the ISND's office. Let someone else finally send the prospective Guard in his direction when they finally felt like it. And if Rising Star had to waste an hour or even two of his life waiting while everyone else was too busy to point him in the right direction... then all the better.
Prey had spent fifty-seven years forgotten and waiting, plus, Rising Star could probably use a lesson on patience anyways since he was a pegasus. The winged third of the pony population were stereotypically renowned for being impatient.
Prey retreated via a roundabout route to get to the ISND office without having to pass the waiting pegasus, and safely stashed his paper bag of fresh candies in a drawer. The office was a relative safe area, and while not as covered in runes as the secret lair, the Sewer's Heart, or his flat, the office had still built up a respectable collection of runic arrays over the days and nights.
Thus, Prey's paranoia was assuaged that someone might sneak in and poison his candy while he was out.
'It's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.' Prey thought, snagging one of the raspberry gumdrops for himself before he shut the drawer.
The sharp tangy burst of sweetness hit his tongue as he pulled out tonight's boring reports and dipped the quill.
It faintly tasted like a faded memory, those first barely ripe wild berry bushes of the season Gossamer and Fleece had been so excited to find each time as lambs. It tasted of long gone better times which were never coming back. One could probably say it tasted bittersweet.
Prey really liked candy.
Of course, it didn't take the few hour's grace Prey was hoping for before some helpful Night Guard finally took note of Rising Star, found out why he was there, and escorted the pegasus to the ISND office.
Prey had of course noticed their approach through the runic array branching outside into the corridor, and heard the muffled conversation through the wall:
"That door right there. Yes, just knock. When you are done, go back the way I brought you. Don't try to take any detours or wander."
"Cheers. And no worries, I know the way back."
Prey heard what might've been a "Humph", it was pretty difficult to tell through the wall, before the thestral finished and left by saying; "A word to the wise, this isn't a joke. Prey is recognised as part of Princess Luna's Night Guard. Take it seriously."
"No worries?" Rising Star returned, sounding not quite sure.
The Night Guard was already leaving however, their presence on the runic array going back down the corridor. Rising Star waited a beat, then approached the door, hooves faintly clopping outside. He knocked loudly.
"This is Rising Star, I'm here to talk to a Prey?" He called through the closed door.
Prey rubbed at the scarring under his eyes, then took a deep breath, "Yes, that's me. Come in and shut the door."
The door opened, and Rising Star with that exact same cocksure smile and golden coat from his file's picture entered. His eyes surveyed the office and finally met Prey's as he stepped over the threshold.
Prey's runic arrays flared an instant silent alarm. Sound went tinny for a moment in Prey's ears as the blood rushed from his head as his spine went ramrod straight.
Fight or flight! It was a moment of his stomach dropping out, of blind panic.
'Which alarm triggered, which?!'
Which of his arrays was going off? What was the threat? Prey's hoof twitched under the desk, an inch away from touching off one of the trigger runes. Shoot first, ask questions later? Which damned array was it-?
Prey's racing mind finally parsed the silent signal and figured out which one it was just as Rising Star was finishing stepping inside, all of it lasting less than a second.
Or not Rising Star.
'It's not an equine.'
There were no thoughts Prey could hear, just an empty hole, one he'd once felt before.
There was only the one possibility. A mimic.
'Zoma'Grika why's it come here tonight? Is it here to try to kill me?!' Fear immediately bubbled up, then, anger.
Rising Star's mouth was open to speak, his eyebrows going up in apparent surprise at finding a lamb waiting for him; "Evening, I'm Rising-"
A facial spasm, so fast it was already gone. A tiny hitch in the fake pegasus's speech. Somehow in that moment, the mimic had sensed Prey's snap flip to raw hostility.
"-Star, and you must be Prey then. Nice to meet'cha."
The mimic had somehow caught a tell from behind Prey's mask. How? His mask was flawless to a stranger. Wasn't it? Had he been so careless as to crack in his moment of panic? Thoughts flashed through Prey's mind at breakneck speed.
Prey couldn't tell, there was no way to know for sure. It was just like Shimmer had been, a blank, Prey couldn't hear any thoughts coming from the disguised creature standing right in front of him. And those old unanswered questions from Mayflower came flooding back.
Who had Shimmer really been? Why had he died trying to save them? What had been his mission in pretending to be a filthy Border Guard? And why was it confronting him now?
The mimics had been staying away, doing everything to avoid him and his lair under the mountain. But this one had strolled boldly right into the Palace, past the Night Guard, and into this very office! But why?
'Revenge? Fulfilling Shimmer's final mission?'
Prey's hoof itched, so close to touching the trigger rune on the desk. But the mimic had so boldly walked in, this must be a trap, or it knew about the runes, or it had a counter, or it knew something he didn't. There was no way it wasn't prepared for this confrontation.
'Bugger bugger bugger Bugger Bugger.'
The mimic had to have some hidden ace, but what was it? Prey's eyes darted over the fake pegasus. A hidden magical artifact? A spell? This pony form before him was just a façade, just because he couldn't see a horn on their head didn't mean that the mimic didn't have access to magic. Prey didn't know what the limitations where, if any.
'I need time to think, to try and learn something. I need to play along.' Prey thought as his stomach continued to roil.
"Yes, I'm Prey. I've been tasked by Lieutenant Screech to conduct a short interview with you, about why you want to transfer into the Night Guard, after having retired too. Please, sit." Prey said, pretending there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, making a perfunctory wave at the aged stool on the opposite side of the desk.
'What are you?' Prey wanted to asked. What were the mimics? His other hoof stayed only a millimetre away from the invisible trigger rune.
The false stallion smiled jauntily at him, "Don't mind if I do."
But was there an air of wariness to their words as they took the stool? Or was he just imagining reactions where there were none?
'Keep playing the act. If I don't break it , perhaps they won't either and I can get out of this situation without violence.'
Prey one hoofedly flipped Rising Star's file open in front of him and pretended to study it, but never actually looked away from the thing sitting across from him. Never let a monster leave your eyesight.
"Let's keep this short and sweet. If you could start by telling me a bit about yourself and why you want to return to the Guard, and then we'll go from there."
The mimic's mastery of expressions was perfect, near indistinguishable from the real thing as it played the role of Rising Star, "Well I left the Royal Guard a few years back because my mom got sick and needed full time care, but me and dad didn't want to put her into a home. Going to one of those places would've killed her. I liked the Royal Guard, the job was good, and the armour goes great with my coat, you know? But family comes first, so I quit."
Rising Star, or the mimic pretending, shrugged as if it had been as simple as that, and that he, Rising Star, should be applauded for his morals and strong family values. A pony might've been impressed, but Prey knew it was utterly fake. An act, a lie.
Prey darkly wondered whether Rising Star's parents had even noticed when their son was replaced. Actually, was Rising Star even a real person? Was the whole 'family' a fictitious front to conceal a cell of mimics hiding out in Cloudsdale?
"Anyways," The not-pegasus went on, sticking firmly to their established story, "Me and dad have now got a new house down here on the ground in Canterlot, one which works for mom. So we thought, now that I'm back, why not go back to the Guard? The Guard life was good, you know? One of us needs to be home at all times though, just in case, so he's going to have a day job, and I'm going for a night job. So I asked my old commander if there were any options, and you know what? He suggested the Night Guard, so here I am."
Again, a sympathy inducing story, one no doubt crafted to inspire admiration in the hearer for Rising Star's dedication and positive outlook on life. It was believable, and not too over the top or in your face, making it all the more subtle. Prey would see 'Rising Star' and his 'beloved mom and dad' dead and leaking green blood before he believed a word of it. Or maybe Rising Star was here to see Prey dead tonight.
"I'm sorry to hear that, but you sound like you have the situation well in hoof." Prey said politely, utterly insincere behind his mask.
That hint of a sour expression flashed in an instant across the mimic's fake face and was gone just as swiftly. It was like they could sense Prey's intentions, although Prey was absolutely certain this mimic wasn't reading his thoughts. Prey was a mind leech, he'd know, and the mimic would have instant cause to regret if they tried. The mere fact they were still sitting across from him upright on the stool meant they hadn't.
There was a creak from the old, slightly unbalanced stool as the mimic shifted posture, yellow wings moving as if to open for a moment to provide air stability, an action which would've been unconscious to any pegasus, but Prey had to wonder if it too was faked. How much of what he was seeing was real and how much was scripted? Was even that sour face he'd just seen now nothing but another ploy? It was the one who'd confronted him and forced him into this situation. Prey despised the loss of control.
'If I killed it, I could finally study what a mimic really is.' The thought occurred to Prey. Punish the mimics for thinking they could trick and control him.
Prey kept speaking as if thoughts of murder weren't even now running through his head; "You've applied for a possible posting into the Night Guard. As I'm sure you realise, the operational procedure in the Night Guard is different to that of the Royal Guard, and the force is a lot smaller. Perhaps you can tell me why you think you'd be a good fit?"
Rising Star inclined his or rather its head slightly, "Sure I can. I'm a good team player, I'm good at working on my own initiative, I have a knack for picking up the ropes quickly, and I'm dependable. And since I've been in the Royal Guard already, some of that experience must carry over, you know? No basic training required whatsoever, I hope."
"Those are good Guard traits, certainly. But you want to return from inactive civilian life straight into the Night Guard. Could you tell me a bit more about what these last few years for you have entailed? It might help me make my recommendation to the Lieutenant." Prey said, making up interview questions on the fly while he furiously thought.
"Sure I can. I'm an only foal, so I got a lot of one-on-one time and tutelage from both my parents. They always pushed me to be the very best I can be. A passing grade in Flight School wasn't enough, they knew I could do better, and they showed me that I knew I could do better too. That's a lesson I've carried with me all my life, you know? Finishing high school-"
The mimic continued on giving its run down of Rising Star with a positive spin, but Prey was only half listening, much more closely focused on the mimic's body language for hints, and his own inner turmoil of thoughts.
Sitting there, across from what he knew to be a fake, as they told him what he knew to be lies, it occurred to Prey that maybe this wasn't about him. Maybe the mimic was just lying to protect its own hide, or carapace, or whatever, much as he himself would do in its place? They were enemies, but perhaps only by the positioning of people much more powerful than them? Meaning, like Luna and her sister the Sun Wolf.
'Logically, this really could be an attempt by the mimics to get an insider into the Night Guard and not an attack on me, since the Night Guard is new, loyal only to Luna, and made up exclusively thestrals of so far, aside from me and Crimson, although he's basically a thestral regardless. There's probably a hoofful of mimics carefully inserted all throughout Canterlot in key places, and they want in on the Night Guard too.' Prey thought with a dreadful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, although only about the threat that such actions posed directly to him.
He couldn't have cared less if they tried to ruin the city of Canterlot itself.
Casually, without even pausing their flow, the mimic reached a hoof for something tucked under their wing.
A warning screamed in Prey's head, danger! Watch the wings, it was the wings which killed with a pegasus, just as with unicorns it was their horn! The mimic simply scratched at their folded wing, but that wasn't what they'd originally been going to do, they'd changed the motion at the last second, Prey was sure of it. It hadn't been smooth enough, there'd been a stilted transition just then.
That objectively disconnected feeling was utterly gone now, replaced with sick, roiling heart pounding adrenaline.
"-And yeah. That's me about summed up, you know?" The mimic stopped, having finished describing Rising Star's abbreviated life story.
Prey sat there, across the desk from what was one very convincing fake to another, in an old dimly lit office, and fought down the seething urge to lash out in retaliation for whatever it was the mimic had been about to do just now.
'I could kill you. I could kill you and use your corpse. I could put my ribbon on you, tie it round your eyes and leave it there.'
On the one side of the desk, sky blue orbs so mild they seemed almost to be smiling, fake. And on the other side, vivid green sparkling with positive energy, fake.
Why was this damned blasted infernal mimic here? Why? Just why?
Prey wanted answers. Answers he couldn't get because he couldn't read the foul things mind!
It was just a disgusting creature under that fake fur, one with fangs, and edges and armour. It was dangerous.
Prey did not torture, but how this thing had simply come in here and was now just sitting there thinking it could trick him, was making him reconsider.
He hated this mimic, he hated people, all people. People lied and deceived, a monster never lied about wanting to kill and eat you.
But this 'Gratta' und krack' thought it could just 'Domolo'dok fa Grot' like he was some idiot, who couldn't see, and 'Zel'man da und Golom'die!'
Prey hated this Rising Star, this detestable, corrupt, vile polluting worm!
*Sn-*
'WaitTheMimicDidn'tHaveGreenEyesJustNow!'
*-ap*
The world stopped even as it didn't, and changed. Prey's mindscape snapped out of a pall of cobwebs. It was like the office around him had been stretched with invisible strings, slowly wrapping around him as he sat here.
The mimic had been doing something to him! Messed with his head, twisted his perception. Not mind control, Prey knew mind control, some other form of control-It was emotion control! Everything he'd felt had been wild, out of control, yawing wildly between extremes.
'It was trying to control me.'
A blink of time where Prey didn't feel any one emotion, everything was too warped as he second guessed himself. Then came the anger, burning away all others.
Rising Star's now blue eyes flickered, widening, the mimic not able to control itself in that fraction of a second, body tensing up defensively. It was that instinctive moment of projected hostility, when the disturbed snake lashes out from its nest and you instinctively snatch your leg back that moment before it lunges.
The mimic hadn't been trying to anger him, Prey suddenly knew that, their reaction right then, it was proof that anger wasn't what it had been trying to induce.
Sympathy, happiness, joy, those emotions would have been better to get what it wanted. Somehow though, he hadn't reacted to their brand of emotional manipulation like how the mimic was used to. That changed nothing. It had just tried to control him!
Prey reached for the trigger tune. The mimic had expected to get away without consequence-!
Anger. He was a burning blazing towering anger, teetering and about to topple over. But the mimic could control emotions, it could read how he was feeling, it could be doing it right now this very second and he didn't have any way to stop it... to stop it-stop it.
The red hot anger was snuffed out like a candle. The fire turned into cold ash without even an ember remaining. All that was left was black, icy clarity in its place.
'It was trying to control me.'
There was no anger now. Prey felt like an utter fool, one who'd been stupid enough to let a tiger stroll into his house because he wanted to see what it would do. It was a mimic, what had he honestly expected? Shimmer had been one, and he'd been masquerading as a traitorous Border Guard. Prey had no excuse for his shameful stupidity. Where was his vaunted cunning? Where was his runic array to guard against emotional tampering?
'I see,' Prey thought, his mind still flowing with the freezing black clarity, 'I'm such an utter failure for not seeing it sooner, but there's an easy solution to all this.'
Simple. Kill it.
Prey moved for the trigger rune. It didn't matter if the mimic had a counter, it didn't matter they were inside the Night Guard wing of the Palace. If the tiger is going to eat you, do you not try to stab it because you're worried about making it angry? No. You stab it and keep stabbing until has fled, or until you or it is dead. It's simple, so simple. Even the dumbest beasts in the woods knows that. Even animals can count to two, and do the terrible and simple equation of hunger.
For one to eat, there must be an eaten. It wasn't going to be Prey.
Prey had learned this lesson already, he knew his one truth about the world. So why by all that was dead and rotten, had he refrained from immediately doing what needed to be done? 'Weak.'
It was there in the mimic's stolen face. It was there, reflected back in Prey's eyes. Terror, sudden and mortal.
"I'm only here for a job," The mimic tried to speak quickly, "I just need a job-"
The mimic wasn't fast enough to save itself. But, by the rolling of fate's dice, by happenstance, by nothing more than pure blind coincidence, something else was.
Muted green fire silently flared up, not from the mimic Prey's eyes were locked onto, but on the desk. He looked. The green glass message-in-a-bottle now held a ripped half page.
The message-in-a-bottle. Prey had put it there on the desk the very night Gloom and Crimson had left for Griffonia. The twin to the bottle of stabilised spell fire they'd taken with them. The one only to be used in emergencies.
Prey stared at the green glass bottle, just sitting there innocuously on the desk. Again, everything had just flipped on its head.
'But, the mimic...' Prey's priorities scrambled to reorder themselves.
'Crimson.'
The mimic's stool clattered over backwards as the false pegasus rushed for the door, "I see this isn't a good time. Guard business, not my place. I'll come back another time!"
Prey's eyes swivelled, the only part of him which moved, tracking Rising Star's flight path to the door.
He could've still acted, he had the time. It wasn't hesitation which stayed his hoof, but because the mimic and its goals were of lesser importance than an emergency message from Crimson.
And then the mimic was gone out the door. Prey didn't know if it was going to flee the Palace immediately or not, but it didn't matter. It had tried, and it had failed, and it would carry word back to the rest of the mimics.
The second the sentient chameleon bug vanished from the detection range of Prey's runes down the corridor, he grabbed for the glass bottle, tearing out the cork with his teeth.
The ripped half page couldn't get shaken out of the bottle's neck fast enough for Prey. It had been badly rolled, obviously in haste, and Prey fought to snag the page inside with a pencil to drag it out, angry frustration welling up at the wasted seconds of delay.
This was an emergency, it could be something terrible had gone wrong trying to grab Hafflow, but he couldn't get the stupid bit of paper-!
He caught the edge of the paper with the pencil and dragged it out, almost tearing it in his haste. Hooves nearly trembling with anxiety, Prey flattened the message out in the lantern light.
The scrawled hoof writing looked like it might be Gloom's. It had been written in haste, in what seemed to be charcoal, wasn't straight, and was to the point.
'Password: Mayflower.'
'Arrested Hafflow tonight, flown out of Griffin Stone. Groups split up to avoid pursuit. In hiding tonight. Found letters, and interrogated prisoner. Danger, tell everypony Prey that: Hafflow was taking orders from the griffin ambassador in Canterlot and they're after the Elements of Harmony. They're going to steal the Elements, you must stop them. They had a plan if something went wrong to immediately launch an attack on the Elements. Tonight? Don't know. Can't make Hafflow talk. Can't wait for him to sleep for Luna to dream interrogate. No time. Stop them Prey.'
And squashed into the bottom corner, the charcoal smudged were the initials; 'G & C'
Prey blinked. For a moment he just sat there, staring blankly at the charcoal scrawl. Had he read that right? Surely this wasn't really happening. Felyawn and the griffins were after the supposed Elements of Harmony, which he'd decided he mostly didn't believe in, but... but why was everything suddenly all revolving around these Elements? Why all within this relatively tiny space of time?
Why was it alr...? Then the urgency crashed down upon Prey full force. This was happening now, tonight!
'Felyawn already knows about the kidnapping. The griffins have their own enchanted teleportation vaults in the embassy for emergency communication, they'll have reported Hafflow's kidnapping immediately.'
But would the ambassador really-? Yes of course he would. Prey himself had met the griffin, and remembered those ice flecks of frozen focus for eyes the griffin had. Nothing would sway him once he committed. This was happening, or was going to happen right-this-instant-now.
The town of Ponyville by train was an hour away, because the tracks had to wind slowly down the mountainside. But it was the middle of the night anyway, and there were no such trains running now.
'But griffins can fly. So can thestrals. Screech! I need to go tell the Lieutenant, get the Night Guard alerted, maybe they can make it down the mountain in time.'
Indecision warred inside of Prey. His deep dark fear that this would somehow all escalate into war still squatted in his heart. Could he prevent it? What if he just kept silent? Would allowing Felyawn to get away with this somehow help? Maybe?
The moment of irrational hope withered and died. No, of course it wouldn't help. Now that the Night Guard had caught Hafflow, it was now completely beyond Prey's control. Now Luna would know, and so in turn would the Sun Wolf, and if the alicorn sisters decided they wanted to escalate, then there was nothing he or anyone else in this world could do to stop them. The choice was out of his hooves.
Prey stared down at the ripped half page which had so suddenly thrown everything off a cliff.
'Damn you Felyawn. Why couldn't you see this was an obvious trap?'
But the griffins were doing this because they wanted a way to stop Nightmare Moon from murdering the entire world if/when she ever returned. Potential war, or possible extinction.
'I have no say in preventing this.' Prey realised. Gloom and Nighthawk hadn't only taken the one message-in-a-bottle apiece, but multiples for each four person team just in case. Gloom, Crimson, and whichever other two thestrals they were paired with wouldn't have only sent one warning, but all the warnings they could while hiding out from Griffin Guard patrols throughout the night.
If Screech hadn't already found the message in one of his own magically twinned bottles, he very shortly would.
'Damn you and your proud nation Felyawn. And damn ponies and their twisted selfish alicorn goddesses.' Prey thought, feeling helpless tendrils of despair rising up to choke him. But there was nothing for it.
Checking only to make sure his ribbon was still definitely behind his ear, Prey grabbed the torn note and ran from the room with all speed. Screech had to be found and told, if he didn't already know. Prey needed his orders, so that he'd have a solid excuse for when everything went to Tartarus.
---
Prey's thinking was basic, and his plan simple. Find Screech, tell Screech, and then let Screech make all the decisions. The Night Guard would be the ones to deal with all of this crap for once, and would also take all the consequences.
But the world is not one big story. It is a hundred million small, individual stories. Each different, each just one strand woven together in one huge chaotic rope making up the passage of time. Everyone has their own story, and it's often not about you. The thing about stories though, is that to the person in it, there is no more important story than their own in the whole world. Everyone makes their decisions based off their own narrative, and to the best of their ability. Or sometimes they just choose poorly.
The other thing about all these interconnecting stories, is that although to the person it's happening to they're the main character, sometimes their story isn't the most important one. Stories happen all the time, they never stop, and by dint of being the story of life, there are high points and low points.
And the thing was, a low point was happening simultaneously, and very publicly, in a large number of story threads elsewhere in Canterlot tonight.
---
More than half of all the Night Guards on duty were already gone.
Prey stared. "What?"
"Lieutenant Screech has gone with eight units because of the fire in Lower Canterlot." Sargent Major Sharp Tang, the closest thestral to in charge left behind, repeated, not stopping moving.
Lower Canterlot? Fire? And a Night Guard response?
"What fires? I didn't hear anything." Prey exclaimed, hurrying along trying to keep up.
Sharp Tang frowned down sidelong at him without breaking stride, his plumed helmet making the thestral loom extra tall over the lamb, "Of course. The report of arson only just arrived, and the Lieutenant flew out, what, five minutes ago?"
"But, there wasn't any alarm-"
"There was an alarm. You just weren't called. I assume because your unit is not an active responder and it's only you left here. If that's all, I'm about to be very busy very shortly." Sharp Tang told him shortly, if anything, lengthening his already brisk stride.
'-you may mean well, but the last thing we need is another lumber yard incident-'
'Of all the bad timing-! No, this is too close to be a coincidence. That fire's just a distraction to keep the Night Guard occupied.' Prey realised, connecting the dots.
"Wait!" He panted, "Wait, I got an emergency message from Sargent Gloom, just right now-"
"Penumbra, Jackie, get the rest of your unit. Meet me In the Guard Compound, three minutes!" The Sargent Major barked down the corridor intersection at two hurrying Night Guards, who promptly saluted and turned right around. Then, back to Prey:
"Pardon? Say that again."
"I said, I got an emergency message from Gloom and Crimson from one of the message-in-a-bottles literally ten minutes ago." Prey got out between breaths, speaking as fast as he could.
Sharp Tang finally stopped, frowning severely now in confusion, "What emergency message bottle? What are you talking about?"
Prey gaped, missing a step. Sharp Tang wasn't one of the Night Guards in the know about Luna's secret mission to snatch Hafflow. Prey hadn't thought, but it appeared it was so. But secrecy shouldn't matter anymore, they'd already captured Hafflow, and the emergency message had come through to tell- '-To tell Screech, but he's already gone.'
"It's an emergency-"
"-If this is to do with the Captain and Lieutenant's whereabouts, I'm not authorised to know yet." Sharp Tang cut in sharply.
Prey breathed deeply, reigning in his building temper, "It's an emergency. They took message-in-a-bottles with them just in case. The one in the ISND office came through just now. It's about the mission they were sent on-"
"I just said don't tell me!" Sharp Tang barked.
"-And they said there's a threat against the Elements of Harmony right now. You need to get there and stop anything happening." Prey carried on, hesitating and deciding at the last moment to be vague on if it was a threat to the Elements or the six Bearers since he didn't want to look like he had taken any interest whatsoever in the Elements of Harmony before this.
Those Elements were either bait laid by the Sun Wolf, or one of her own personal pet projects. Prey wanted nothing which could link him in any way to anything Celestia had claimed. The alternatives were too dire to even consider.
Sharp Tang's eyes and tufted ears swivelled to lock solely onto Prey, "Did you say the Elements of Harmony?" He demanded.
"Yes!" Prey shoved the half page with its charcoal smudged message beneath the stallion's muzzle, "It specifically says that someone's going to try to steal these Elements of Harmony. I don't know how many Elements there are supposed to be, or who's going to strike-"
The Sargent Major snatched the letter from Prey's cleft hoof with a slice of his wing, bringing it up close to his face, not even noticing how Prey hissed and jumped away. His yellow eyes flickered left to right over the note.
'-Griffonstone, that's where they were? The griffin ambassador, and, what? The Elements? What's been happening out there?-'
Then Sharp Tang's confusion levelled out into alarmed acceptance, '-Luna's mane, if there's a credible threat to the Elements of Harmony, then we have to act now!-'
The thestral spun, already opening his mouth to shout after the two thestrals he'd sent off, then faltered as he remembered that Screech had just left the Palace, taking half the active Night Guards with him, and still other units were out on patrol too. Nighthawk and the other two Lieutenants were in Griffonstone apparently, and there were only just enough Night Guards left in the Palace to Guard it.
The Sargent Major's mind raced, '-our duty is to Princess Luna first and foremost, the citizens second. But these are the Elements we're talking about... wait! Princess Luna, this is covered in the regulations. If this sort of situation occurs, active command defaults to Princess Luna first, then her sister second-'
His yellow eyes locked onto Prey, "Run, find every Night Guard not guarding an entrance or exit. Pass on the message, get them to do the same. Meet on Parade Ground One immediatley. Princess Luna is assuming active command, I'm going to inform her immediately. Go!"
With his shouted command still ringing in the corridor, Sharp Tang launched off in a speeding gallop in the direction of the Night Court.
Prey watched him disappear within seconds. Then he took a deep breath, smoothed a hoof down the length of his ribbon just to be sure, then ran off to do exactly as Sharp Tang had said.
This was out of his hooves now. Part of it felt good for once to know that someone else would be taking the blame when everything invariably went wrong. The other part, the darker part Prey tried to suppress in the hopes that it was wrong, was still fixated on the possibility of a diplomatic incident escalating out of proportion into war with the griffins. Prey had seen war. He had been in a war. There were no winners in war. Only survivors.
"Meet on the Parade Ground! Sharp Tang's orders, it's an emergency. Tell everyone else you see!" Prey shouted, high pitched, passing by Night Guards as he ran up one dim corridor then down the next. He looped back around at a corridor intersection, lit by four lanterns on each corner, and headed back for another pass.
"Meet on the Parade Ground. Sharp Tang's orders, it's an emergency. Tell everyone else you see!" No one was going to accuse him after this of not doing his part.
Night Guards scrambled, dashing past him in flashes of armour and rapid clacking of horseshoes.
"All available Night Guards meet on Parade Ground One!"
When he'd run down four corridors in a row, and hadn't encountered even one more Night Guard not stationed on an entrance or exit to the Palace, Prey decided he must've gotten to everyone and headed towards Parade Ground One himself at a much slower trot, panting all the way to find...
To find that there was no one there.
Prey first peered into the deep night shadows at the far end of the empty parade square, before swiftly double checking this was indeed Parade Ground One, and that he hadn't gotten mixed up. But no, he had not mistaken his sense of direction. He looked around.
The air had a cold bite to it, but Prey had just spent the last ten minutes running around the Night Guard section. Huffing, Prey stepped closer. In the light of the lanterns hung outside the Palace, Prey could still just about see the kicked up scuffs in the parade ground sand, and large sweeping arcs where take-off beat of wings had blown the topmost sand away.
Prey tilted his head back and looked up towards vast starry night above the city. Prey called up the maps he'd memorised, and turned to the south, in the direction he knew the town of Ponyville was situated.
He was just in time to see the last flying figures exiting the glow of Canterlot's light bubble before they were beyond his non-existent night vision and already damaged eyesight.
They'd only just taken off, obviously deciding to fly straight to Ponyville to guard these Elements or whatever, and they'd made the call to leave him behind. Perfectly understandable, since he was one of those people who had the audacity to be born without the common decency of wings.
'Or maybe they just forgot about me.'
Prey didn't know if Luna was flying with them. She might be for all he knew, Sharp Tang had run off to inform his beloved princess with all speed, and Prey hadn't been able to tell one distant flying figure from another in the dark. So either Luna was still in the Palace somewhere behind him, or had flown off at the head of her loyal Night Guard to lead them on a quest to prevent villainy, or however it was she chose to see it. Prey nearly spat into the kicked up sand at the thought.
Prey remembered how she'd chosen Lord Vanish over Crimson's claim on a whim, her almost jubilant excitement at learning of Hafflow's treachery so that she could launch a mission to stem her boredom or what-have-you, and how whimsically she'd dealt with the ISND as a whole.
Still, the end result was, they'd left him behind. He now had his alibi. That meant he didn't need to attend, and whatever happened wasn't his fault. 'Yes, this is actually far better for me this way.'
He'd discharged his duties, and either Luna or Sharp Tang in Screech's absence had made the call to leave him behind. Screech was out in Canterlot dealing with an arson attack, while he stayed behind safe here.
It was out of his hooves, beyond his control... Prey hated not being in control, but there was only so much you could do.
He was here, and they were out there, flying through the night. They had wings, he didn't. Well, he could get down the mountain through the green stone cave passageway, but what would be the point?
Whatever went down tonight in Ponyville, it was the far safer and smarter choice to remain behind here. Yes. He was staying behind.
In that quiet moment of reflection though, still panting lightly from his run, and standing along under the stars on the gritty parade ground sand... The seed of doubt was still growing there.
Prey pulled the rolled and crumpled message out of his wool where he'd shoved it. He'd been lucky it hadn't fallen out while running up and down corridors. He unrolled it and held it up under one of the Palace lanterns so he could read it again. The charcoal message was a nearly illegible smudged mess by now, but the end line was still visible.
'Stop them Prey. G & C.'
G and C, meaning; Gloom and Crimson.
'Stop them Prey.' Crimson had asked him to stop the griffins. But what could he do? He'd get there too late to intervene in anything anyway. And while there were only two things he wouldn't do for Crimson, there were still two things he wouldn't do for Crimson.
But yet still the seed of doubt festered...
Prey looked at the note. Then he looked up at the night sky above Canterlot. He turned back to look at the high marble walls of the Palace, pale white in the moonlight. He looked at the note again, then the parade ground, then up at the night. Then down at the note once again. Prey turned the note just to check nothing had suddenly appeared written on the back, then upright again.
Night sky, parade ground, torn note. He kicked at the gritty sand with a hoof. He sighed.
"Oh zoma'Grika take it all." Prey cursed.
---I---