Prey and a Lamb

by Lambs Prey

83.6 A Quiet End to an Adventure

From 'Living by the Feather and Talon', penned by the griffin Rekaw of the Low King's court - 942 A.C.

To be a Grand General, a griffin must either first be insane or able to wilfully don insanity. For none but an insane individual can so confidently issue orders which they well know will cost the lives of their Griffins, and yet decide, 'Yes, these many lives are worth my objective.' For how else could they do so? Those commanders under the Grand General at least know the orders they must execute come from higher than themselves, but right at the very top of the chain of command?

Only the insane can remove the soldier part from the value of a life. Only they could sign with their own talons to condemn so many to death again and again. Or the murderously mad.

Prey had a dream. Or he used to have one.

Not a dream, as in what he saw when he slept. When asleep, unless Prey was so tired he couldn't control it, he was the one who decided what he saw within the ashen world of his outer mindscape. That is, assuming, Luna hadn't taken a sick interest in tormenting him that particular night.

But rather he'd had a dream, as in, an impossible goal. A distant desire you always said, "One day I will," but deep down knew the truth to be; "I never will." But that's why it was a dream. A fleeting, fading flash of brightness too good to be true. That was the type of dream he'd had. Not something at the very top of The List, but that was because he'd never believed the number one item was ever possible. But still a dream, something that brought hope rather than cold, logical despair.

A dream which he'd barely dared to imagine to believe that he might be allowed to hope for.

Truth be told, it was the same dream it'd always been down the long years.

Prey had dreamt of being left alone. Of being free. Of one day, just being allowed to leave all responsibilities behind, to simply walk away from everyone and everything, and be forgotten. To just be free to be left alone.

That had been Prey's dream. It was still his dream, but now he wasn't so sure of it anymore. Things had changed, like they do. That was life. And when he waking dreamed now, he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. Because of Crimson.

Crimson was his friend, his only friend. He owed Crimson. He didn't want to leave Crimson. Prey wanted-
-He wanted the impossible, he knew that.

He wanted to be free of Luna's golden shackles and to be left alone, that was the same as before. Except now he wanted Crimson to come with him when he left. Or to go with Crimson instead. As long as it was away from danger and he could be left alone, he didn't really care about the destination. He'd survived in the Deeper Green, so he could survive almost anywhere.

But Crimson would never just abandon his duty to the unworthy Luna, or the ponies he'd grown to know here in Canterlot. And Prey hadn't forgotten that nor had Crimson forgotten his own blood feud with his old clan.

Gloom, Scenic, Lilly, Saffron, Carton, Screech, Vivid Edge, Taffy, all of them. They had a hold on a piece of Crimson's heart now too.

And if Prey was being completely honest, the thought of leaving some of those people, only some of them, well... he'd regret it.

No, they were not friends. He didn't like them, this wasn't him succumbing to the racist pony friendship claptrap. They were not friends.

He could and would leave them behind without so much as a backwards glance if he were able to escape Luna's golden leash. But if he had to pick them or a stranger's life to save, no, not just a complete stranger, but even a stranger who he knew to be a good person, he'd pick them and damn the stranger.

Prey was no fool. He knew they weren't his friends. He knew they only acted as such because he'd deceived them, because he wore a mask, because he hid what he was capable of doing in cold blood. If they knew, they'd run from him. So no, they weren't 'friends'. In fact, many of them had been the cause of at best, numerous headaches, and at worst, almost getting him killed.

And while he couldn't forgive that... they were still people he now knew. Them, and Lemon Pink. She too was his tool, but she was also a person now. She was slowly developing, despite her stunted mind. Lemon had Randy, and eventually, maybe others too. There was still a bit of pony left in Lemon Pink from her creation, after all.

But putting her aside, that still left Gloom. Gloom was... the thestral was... Prey wasn't sure what Gloom was to him. Less than a friend, even if Gloom counted himself as such, he was less important than Crimson. But he was more important than Scenic, Saffron, Lilly, or Carton Juice.

Crimson. Then Gloom and Lemon. Then all the others.

Prey wasn't sure what his dream was anymore. He hated Canterlot, he hated the Night Guard, he hated magic, unicorns, ponies, and their racist bigotry. And he HATED Luna.

But he loved Crimson as strongly as any brother. And he didn't hate Gloom, despite all the issues the thestral had caused him in the past.

'I don't know what my dream is anymore.'

It had been quiet. More than a week had passed, (nine days if you wanted to be exact), and Prey had heard nothing from the mimics.

No sight, no sound, no scent. Nothing. He hadn't risked venturing down into the mountain tunnels to double check for certain, a task he would've dearly loved to still have had his veropede for, but he sensed nothing from in the depths of the tunnels. As in, nothing. Just still, dead air.

Prey didn't know how many of the mimics his orichalcum flower had killed. He didn't know if their fried corpses still packed the dark tunnels even now.

But it had been quiet down there. An empty quiet. A promising sign, but Prey wasn't about to let his guard down.

If their situations had been reversed, for what he'd done to them, Prey would either have immediately given up and run away, or viciously attacked back with everything he had. But since nothing of either nature had occurred, it was a promising sign.

'Hearth Warming Starts Soon! - Shop Now and Save on Stress!' Shouted the poster in the hat store front window. Throughout Canterlot, and seemingly overnight, all the shops and commercial districts had sprouted similar such signs.

Early gold, red, and green themed decorations were already being put up here and there and everywhere.

Likewise, scarfs seemed to have come into fashion overnight, and as such, Gloom with his own long black scarf draped over his puckered chest scar no longer stood out. And also because he was wearing a dusk pony amulet, not just the disguise capabilities of his scarf.

Although, it wasn't actually cold enough that you really needed a neck warmer. Unless you were a pony, because apparently, the temperature was somehow ten degrees colder to you and only you if you were a pony.

Winter was finally here. It had slipped in rather unannounced. Partly because as any season here in the heart of Equestria, it was very mild. Ponies got angsty if it was any other way, demanding that the weather they'd slowly tamed and refined over centuries bend to down to their already low tolerance levels.

In another few centuries, who knew? Perhaps they'd have gotten to the point they could say "No" to the yearly season of winter altogether.

Scenic heaved in a deep, deep breath, chest expanding for all he was worth, and then let it all out in one huge long exhale, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh. I love the first week of the month at Hearths Warming."

Next to the earth pony, his towering marefriend joined in, "Sure is, sure is. Why, the airs got this wonderful taste to it. Like happiness and snow."

Carton Juice was excessively bundled up in maximum sized warm clothing against the honestly only very mild chill at this time of the afternoon; a warm hat, scarf, fluffy coat, and hoof warmers.

"This is nothing. Griffonstone at midday in the sun was still colder than this." Crimson bluntly commented, unconsciously shuffling his wings. Likely, he was missing the familiar weight of his wingblades. Gloom, Prey, and he were here, on their one free day of the week, because the earth pony couple had invited them to attend the first market day of December. Apparently, it was supposed to be something 'special'.

"Ooh, you've been to Griffonstone?" Carton asked in interest, leaning in, "When? What was it like? Are the ponies nice over there?"

"Ah." Crimson fumbled. Their mission to Griffonstone was restricted information. "That is..."

Hurriedly Gloom cut in, deciding it best to just bluntly end this, "Sorry, we're not supposed to talk about that. Please don't ask or bring it up."

"Why? What happened?" Carton asked without thinking.

"Please don't ask or bring it up." Gloom repeated firmly.

Carton's moot snapped shut, "S-sorry. I wasn't thinking, I just, er. I won't."

Next to her, Scenic let out a quiet breath if relief. He didn't know about the Griffonstone mission, and what's more, he didn't want to know.

'-whatever it was or whatever they were doing over there, it's best we don't know. I'll sleep better this way-'

'Coward. A smart coward, though.' Prey thought judgingly. He looked ahead to the bustling crowd as it joined into the Lower Canterlot market square they were approaching. More warm clothing, and seasonal decorations and colours swirled in the noisy crowd.

'And here I am. Again. Getting dragged out of my comfort zone. Again. Attending some stupid pony festivity. Again.'

Prey wasn't even surprised anymore that this was his life. His enforced Night Guard work up at the Palace taking up nearly all of the waking hours six out of seven days, and for the few remaining, it was spent either sleeping like the he was supposed to with the allotted rest time, creating runes like he needed to, or somehow being shanghaied yet again into more pony tomfoolery.

'Am I getting to used to this? That I'm just accepting it like its something that couldn't easily be changed if people would just leave me out of their mundane everyday plans like I want?'

Seriously, was he growing inured to getting forced into these sorts of things?

The hubbub of the main crowd was steadily increasing as they approached the huge market square, stacked with stalls, stands, and shops.

Prey winced in anticipation of the headache to come, 'My heads hurting just at the thought of all those thoughts.'

Prey decided then and there he wasn't going to be sticking around here. While Gloom and Crimson were both resigned to joining in with the crowd, and not actively looking forward to the excitement like Carton and Scenic, neither were either of them going to end up nursing a headache afterwards.

'Seriously, if people would just leave me alone, I'd never even leave my flat. Or rather, not leave that anyone else would be aware of.'

"You're splitting up from us, then." Crimson said from next to him.

Prey jumped and glanced up at Crimson, who was observing him in return, one eyebrow under his lanky mane raised. Prey hadn't even said anything yet, or moved to breakaway, but the pegasus had somehow noticed his intentions straight away.

Or maybe he'd just guessed in advance. It wasn't exactly a huge leap of logic, if you knew Prey. But still.

"Yes." Prey answered honestly, "I'm not interested in... that."

Crimson added his own nod as Prey indicated the noisy crowd they were almost upon, "Neither am I, really."

"Come with me then." Prey beckoned, seizing the presented opportunity. Over the noise of the ponies ahead, the other three didn't hear him.

"But Scenic and Carton have invited us here. It would be rude to leave already." Crimson said, but he was looking around the street as if he wished to agree.

"We're not guests at their house, and this is a public festival. There aren't any guest rights enforced here, we're allowed to go enjoy ourselves elsewhere if we want," Prey pressed, "Come on. Let's go."

They were just about to wade into the flowing crowd now, a grinning Carton in the lead. With her greater height, she was encouraging the pony crowd to instinctively part and make an opening. Crimson threw Gloom a look at the last second as the disguised thestral was dragged in, and then turned aside to follow Prey instead.

"We'll catch up with you later." Crimson called out.

Gloom half turned, caught up in the crowds pull, "Wait, what?"

"He said, catch you later." Prey raised his voice, giving the retreating Gloom a cheery smile as he was pulled in further after the oblivious Carton and Scenic.

"Hey-!"

"Bye-bye." Prey waved without actually looking back at his disguised thestral Sargent, as he guided his friend Crimson towards a side street instead.

The side street, while not nearly as busy as the main market square, still bore a lot of hoof traffic coming and going, so Prey took them towards another side street, then down a third, leaving most of the ponies and festive red, gold, and green behind.

A fourth turn got them even further away from the market, the various walls, buildings, and houses Prey had put between them and the square cutting off the last of even the most persistent noise.

Here, finally, was some time to spend with Crimson, and only Crimson. Not that they didn't spend all day working alongside each another, because they most definitely did, night-in, night-out, slaving away in the ISND's office.

'Still haven't gotten a better light installed in there, yet.' Prey realised, leading them towards a small gap in between two houses, where the street rose in a smooth incline to cross over the pavement of the street of the tier below in a short bridge. Being built on the side of a mountain, space was always at something of a premium in Canterlot, especially here in Lower Canterlot. The system of tiered building and levels helped with that.

"Where are you taking us?" Crimson asked in interest, glancing over the railing to the strip of street below as they crossed the hoof bridge. It wasn't a far drop, and the houses pressed in close here. Snug, that was the word. Snug and rather antique, actually.

The close packed buildings here were rather old, bricks and plaster built around thick crossbeams, sometimes just that bit wonky with centuries of age and decades of paint, and in places on the narrow winding street, the cobblestones were worn so smooth they almost shone. The clean ones, anyway. Flocks of pigeons and doves seemed to love this area. Prey could hear the cooing and flapping of bird wings never far away.

"No where in particular. This is just one of the less awful sections of Canterlot I've found." Prey answered.

"You still dislike the city so much?" Crimson enquired with mild curiosity.

"Yes. This place, this whole city, sometimes it's bearable, but then the next second you see something that everyone has taken for granted their entire lives, even here in Lower Canterlot, and I just..." Prey shook his head, mouth turning down, "...And then I hate it."

Crimson walked in silence for a minute, thinking over Prey's honest opinion. He didn't disagree or tell Prey he should be more understanding. If Prey didn't want to, then that was up to him. As they'd established between themselves, through quiet testing again and again by putting a bit more of themselves out there each time, there was nothing they couldn't say in private that would drive the other away. They were friends, and they wouldn't betray each other, but that wasn't their fear.

Both of their secret fear wasn't that the other would betray them. It was that they themselves would be the one to betray. It was illogical, but the fear that somehow, someway, he would mess up sat in Prey's heart.

And if that ever happened, well then... Prey didn't know what would happen between them next. However he knew that if it was Crimson that somehow messed up, he'd forgive his only friend because he knew it would've been an honest accident. And he secretly hoped that Crimson would do the same if, all the godless forbid, he was the one to mess up.

And because of all that, all those things they didn't say but each instinctively knew the other knew, Prey was confident in saying what he truly thought about this disgusting pony city to Crimson without fear of censorship.

'Except, apparently, whatever it was that we said that one time, and I wiped our memories. Or suppressed my own copy, at least.' Prey thought, guilt stinging him.

But Crimson didn't know about that any longer. It was only Prey who did, so he'd pretend and they could go on as if nothing was wrong.

They walked for some more. Presently, Crimson commented, "I think I've figured out why you don't mind this bit of Canterlot. Or dislike it as much as the rest, I mean."

"Oh?"

Crimson nodded at the latest in a long line of all the asymmetrical shops they were passing, "All the bookstores."

"Well, you've got a point there." Prey conceded. Out of the last ten shops they'd passed, eight out of those had been secondhoof book stores. The others had both been antiques stores.

Crimson's ears swivelled one way, and his eyes tracked in another as they kept trotting along, Prey still guiding their path. "You've got somewhere you want to show me." The red pegasus observed bluntly.

Prey had said they weren't going anywhere in particular, and while that was true, Crimson's statement was also true. "You got me." Prey easily admitted, not slowing.

"So, what is it? Or is it a surprise?" Crimson asked, idly watching a dove swoop overhead and just letting Prey take them wherever he wanted.

"Yes, but only a little bit of one. It's not far now."

"Okay." Crimson agreed, not pushing for details.

And indeed, it wasn't long at all. Crimson looked up at the sign above the door, some of the paint on the old, gothic lettering flaky in patches.

"The Green Cockatrice." Crimson read.

"It's actually a two part establishment. It has a small café, but much more interesting is that it's also an antiques dealership. Including magical trinkets." Prey supplied.

Crimson quickly looked back down at him, "Are you saying this is where you got...?" Crimson trailed off, his right wing partly unfolding briefly. The one secretly bearing the electrite feather.

"No," Prey shook his head, "This has nothing to do with that. No, that was completely something else."

"Then, the jade necklace? Back when it was just a ring?" Crimson asked, going to the next logical, if wrong, option.

Prey tilted his head, "What? No. Look, this is just a trinket shop for old curios as long as they're magical. I only recently heard about this shop here, so I decided to come here today."

Crimson picked up on the rest of what Prey didn't say, "I see. And since the choice was between the market with Scenic and Carton, or coming to check this out, this was your choice."

Prey smiled lopsidedly, "Hey, you wanted to come along to. I didn't exactly have to try hard to convince you."

Crimson just wing shrugged.

"Come, let's go in then." Prey said.

If there was one thing Prey had learnt from the thieves, it was the hard lesson to not under estimate random, previously unknown or untested magical artifacts. Something he had known before, but it had just been beaten home even further in pain and blood. And while there were a hundred, no, a thousand trinkets out there to shift through for every decently powerful artifact, unless you spent that time shifting through the dross, you'd never even have the chance to find the silver.

The thing was though, Lemon Pink had already been through this particular shop earlier this week, and had found nothing worthy. The Green Cockatrice was only one of a score of these shops throughout Canterlot. No, Prey hadn't brought Crimson here with the goal of finding some forgotten and powerful heirloom of another ancient mage family.

Not everything was about obtaining artifacts of exceptional magical power.

He'd simply come here because it was quiet, and he wanted to spend some time with his only friend. That, and when Lemon had visited, she'd gotten a good look around the entire store, and found nothing dangerous.

'But it never hurts to be cautious.' Prey thought as he pushed the door open, but not immediately going through. Instead, he waited for those two seconds to check that nothing was about to explode or that a trap had been triggered, and that there was no one obviously armed or dangerous inside, and then and only then stepped in.

And indeed, as Prey had said, it was just an antiques shop. Old, with many curious bits and bobs, but just a shop.

No mysterious hooded stranger lurking in the corner, no restricted section of the store locked off behind bars, no suspicious counter teller who offered you a deal to good to be true, and no invisible pull towards any of the knickknacks on display.

It was just an antiques shop, with a tiny café included, which was simply going about its business of turning over a profit.

Prey got the faint painful prickling in the runes on his hooves as they passed by the shelves, but it was just that; faint. All the trinkets and baubles here were magical, but only at a basic level. There was nothing in there more enchanted than the average crystal lamp.

Crimson's quiet comment on it all, as they looked around at the close packed shelves, was; "Huh. I was almost expecting something else."

There were only five other people in the store. Two shop workers, and three browsing customers. All slightly older unicorns, the kind you'd stereotypically expect to find in a magical antiques store. Spectacles, a note book, no fashion sense, and utterly unconcerned about it.

But that didn't matter, that wasn't why Prey and Crimson see here. They were here to get away from the market square for an hour or so, and then they'd go rescue Gloom. If they couldn't find the disguised thestral, along with Scenic and Carton, then they'd simply go on their way and meet up back at the Palace for work later this evening.

There wasn't anything special about his shop, it was simply where they'd ended up at. So that's what they did.

They wandered around for a while, idly looking at the trinkets for sale, but quickly losing interest in that. So they ended up just talking, discussing the ISND work, and commenting on the odd thing on the shelves.

Normal, everyday things that were ten times better with a friend.

Prey and Crimson could've gone anywhere, since neither of them had any interest in actually buying anything, not that the two lethargic workers seemed to mind, and it would've been much the same. The Green Cockatrice was simply background.

"Do you suppose Carton Juice would like that?" Crimson asked, examining some kind of wind up music box in the shape of a pudgy bird.

Prey cocked his head questioningly, "Probably, but why're you getting Scenic's marefriend a gift?"

"You know," Crimson waved one hoof vaguely, "For Hearth Warming. I mean, you know, because you're supposed to give gifts to everyone apparently."

"Oh that? That's a pony tradition only. Besides which, it's not that you're supposed to get gifts for everyone. Just your friends. Or not at all, if you don't want to. As I said, it's just a pony tradition."

Crimson hummed, still examining the bird music box sceptically, "Carton Juice counts as a friend. And we're in Canterlot now, so I think I should follow the tradition. I mean, it's up to you, but I'm going to. So there's Carton, Scenic, Gloom, you, Lilly, oh and Saffron too I guess. Wait, do I need to give something to Captain Nighthawk? What about the Lieutenants?"

"I'm pretty sure you aren't expected to get presents for people who are only work colleagues. Besides, they're thestrals and just as new as you here. And really, I'm fine, you don't have to get me anything." Prey added on.

Crimson tilted his ears to the side in a so-so motion, "We're in Canterlot now, and it would be a nice thing to do..."

Prey blinked, reaching up and rubbing the fur under his chin as he thought over that.

Giving gifts to non-family was very much a pony thing. Just like with Nightmare Night, out on the border, they'd had some different traditions. Given gifts there were usually a birthday thing, if you had the money, (which they hadn't), but Hearth Warming for Prey hadn't ever involved presents.

Instead, it had been about family, about eating a big enough meal and not going hungry for once, about doing all the farm work and then everyone gathering in the village to listen to the story tellers. One day out to rest at the end of the year, and to remember. But actual physical gifts weren't common. Maybe exchanging baskets of food between neighbours, or cutting all their fire wood for them, but not trinkets and baubles.

"It's not what I knew, growing up." Prey said after a bit.

Crimson shrugged eloquently, "Me neither. But here we are."

Prey shrugged back, "I suppose so. Hmm. Hmmmm. What can I give Gloom and the others?"

"You want to try this to?" Crimson asked, then swiftly added, "Please don't give Scenic a dead rat or something. Or anyone a dead rat, actually."

"Why would I do that?"

"Yes, why would you do that?"

Prey thought about it, recalling how badly the earth pony had reacted to his ghost story on Nightmare Night. If he was feeling malicious, that was exactly like something he'd do. "Right. I won't do anything like that, I promise."

“So,“ Crimson nodded at the music bird again, returning to the subject of his original question, “Do you think this would be something that Carton would like?”

Prey thought they’d be lucky to get what they were given, and should just be thankful with that. Although, with how timid the giantess of a mare was when confronted with anything, Prey was willing to bet that even if Carton Juice hated any gift, she’d still beam and thank the giver. If Prey thought a present he’d been given was actually given as an insult, he wouldn’t have any such compulsions about being gracious. Depending on who it was, he’d either refuse it, or smile and secretly plan to get even with them later. Unless it was Crimson of course. Or Gloom, since if that happened, it would’ve been because of a genuine mistake.

“You don’t need to get me anything, really.” Prey thought to repeat out loud again.

“And if I want to? I mean, you won’t mind if I do anyway, right?” Crimson checked.

“If you really want to, I suppose not.” Prey flicked his eyes away, feeling a bit embarrassed. Their friendship wasn’t based on giving gifts.

Prey had heard there were ways to qualify how a person expressed affection. While he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that it was a pony who’d come up with the idea, because who else would feel the need to classify and breakdown friendships? But what was surprising was that even if he was only restating the obvious, it was still an accurate assessment in Prey’s view.

In essence, the study said there were four different ways people, (well, in the study it specified ponies), expressed affection for another, and that was by giving of something to the other.

The first method was affirmation. Telling the person how much you appreciated them, by paying them compliments, telling them how good they looked.

The second method was the one that Prey recoiled disgust from in disgust, the idea enough to make him feel sick. And that was by physical affection. Hugs, kisses, nuzzles, sitting with the person, patting them on the back, platting their mane, etcetera.

Third, and the one Prey could actually identify with was, quite simply, giving of your time to the person. That meant spending your free time with them, doing what they wanted to do, talking, chatting, participating in an activity, or simply being with them.

And the last way was by giving gifts, expressing how they were worth more to you than the monetary value of the item.

Any wholesome expression of friendship or affection could be broken down into one, two, three, or sometimes even all four methods.

Prey just felt that Hearth Warming was a forced scenario of number four, because it was a tradition where giving gifts was the 'accepted' way of appreciating friends or family. Basically it was at the point that the expectation was; if you didn't give them a gift, then you were clearly saying didn't care about them. Which was a false representation and utterly stupid.

True, Prey had given Crimson the gift of the electrite feather, but that was completely different. It was a weapon, something he'd created during a time when he'd thought Crimson's survival was at stake. But giving presents simply for the sake of tradition on one day of the year irritated him.

'Well, if Crimson's decided to follow the tradition anyway, I guess I could stand to do the same.' Prey decided, eyeing Crimson up and down.

Now, what could he get Crimson? He was... hesitant to gift Crimson something like the electrite feather again. First, because just like he hadn't been able to offer a believable explanation for its origin the first time, he wouldn't be able to a second time either. And it would be much more suspicious the second time around too.

'I could probably get him to accept a second such gift anyway, since he's my friend, but...'

But to make something powerful and actually worth the while for Crimson to carry, he would need more rare components, and he was loath to risk something again so soon after stealing the raw orichalcum. That, and the sheer time and runic effort he'd have to invest wasn't a small weight on the scale of consideration either.

And to top it all off, there was also the matter of an energy source. The electrite feather worked half off of Crimson's natural internal magic, and half off the ambient mana in the air. It had no internal power, it didn't recharge, but it never deactivated. It passively worked all the time off those two small sources of energy.

If Prey gave Crimson another feather, neither would have quite enough energy to function at peak efficiency.

'Well it doesn't have to be like the electrite feather, it could be something which activated and then needs to recharge afterwards.' Prey considered.

Hadn't he earlier been thinking that not everything was about magical artifacts? And yet here he was, considering it yet again.

Crimson was poking at an egg whisk which apparently whisked eggs by itself. 'Well it doesn't actually have to be magical at all and risk drawing attention. A normal, mundane gift might be fine too. Like a hoof dagger. Or a crossbow. Or another set of wingblades.'

Prey thought about the options as they continued to meander around the Green Cockatrice's shelves. He paid some more attention to what they were seeing, as unlike with Crimson, he was a lot less concerned with what he'd give to any of his other acquaintances. Something or other would suffice, like that serving spoon which changed colour but did nothing else.

'I suppose Gloom deserves something a bit better than that.' Prey grudgingly admitted to himself. How things changed. Gloom was technically one of his jailers, and while Prey never forgot that, Gloom was not his enemy. Their enemies were out there. It was a case of 'them', against 'us'.

He'd have to think of something for the Sargent, considering how he'd abandoned him in the market to Scenic and Carton while he came here with Crimson.

"What is even the point of this?" Crimson asked, sounding honestly baffled. Prey smiled and returned to back to see whatever item it was.

How boring was this? Walking around a store, looking at trash you weren't even interested in buying, all because while you had plenty of better things you could be doing, you weren't. So how boring was this? And yet, it wasn't.

With a friend, a true friend, every experience becomes better than it actually is.

The Green Cockatrice wasn't actually that big of an antiques shop, so they'd finished meandering around the isles with still plenty of time to spare. So it wasn't really a hard decision to move onto the tiny café it had.

It was literally just three round weathered tables outside the front, with a couple of chairs to each which looked old enough to be artifacts themselves. Also, café was perhaps a bit of a stretch too. It served four things, three of them drinks. Hot chocolate, tea, water, and toast. Not exactly thrilling.

Nevertheless, Prey and Crimson found themselves outside at one of the three empty tables, waiting for their order of hot chocolate.

Again, it wasn't cold, at least not to them despite all the bundled up ponies from earlier, but it was at least chilly.

Prey was sitting upright on his old stool, meaning the edge of table was still up to his neck, absently picking out a tangle in his wool while Crimson was looking up at the gap of sky between the close packed buildings.

You didn't need to fill the quiet with chatter. Sitting in silence also worked just fine for the both of them.

Prey twitched one drooping ear at the sound of a small flock of pigeons who'd been strutting around on the cobblestones behind him noisily took to the air in that way they did.

Crimson's own tufted ears swivelled, and he looked around, tracing back the pigeons flight path to ground level behind Prey's seat.

Prey saw the moment.

Crimson did not stiffen, but he went from casual to readiness in one breath to the next. The muscles in his folded wings were suddenly somehow much more prevalent, and although he was without wingblades, Crimson didn't need those to break bones or kill if he wanted to.

The muscles under his red coat didn't bunch up, but all of them shifted just a millimetre all together, creating an overall change from non-ready to ready.

And of course the last signal was Crimson's eyes. The tells in those amber eyes were always the biggest giveaway.

And lastly, because he was Prey, he also felt the sudden hardening in the mental walls of Crimson's mind.

Prey did not turn around, he didn't let himself give them away so easily. He calmly reached up to stroke the end of his ribbon, and stared straight into Crimson's eye, silently asking the question:

'What is the danger? Flee or fight?'

In the one second that they had, Prey stared at Crimson and watched for his response. But Crimson didn't rise, he stayed seated. He held, so Prey stayed and held too.

Only one second, but Prey was abruptly too hot and sweating.

What was the danger? If they were waiting, was it because fleeing would be pointless? Or because holding still was their best chance?

He wanted to turn, to look, but that would trigger everything to start happening.

Prey should've easily been able to hear any hooves approaching them on the cobblestones here, pigeons or no pigeons. That meant it was a griffin padding closer, or a unicorn under a silencing-

"You are not welcome. Go away." Crimson spoke loudly.

"No thanks, I don't think I will. This is a nice public venue, open to anypony. How strange to run into you two, though." Came the confident reply from behind Prey's position.

Prey twisted around, a scowl of distaste already scrunching up his face at the owner of the voice, 'Strange Happenstance.'

Relief warred for dominance with apprehension for a moment, and then was superseded by aggravation. This was who he'd being getting worried about?

Then Prey made the connection, 'How did he find me? Find us?'

Had the unicorn been following them since they left the apartment block, and yet none of them had noticed? Or was that his special talent, like Gloom's, but much stronger and accurate? That, or was Strange Happenstance somehow one of the very few master scryers in existence who could somehow scry a person, not even just a stationary object, in real time? Because if it was magic or a special talent, there was little Prey could do to prevent it either.

And did his sudden appearance have anything to do with the demise of the mimics? Prey had not forgotten his first suspicions about Strange Happenstance, despite all evidence to the contrary. Suspicious, very suspicious that the private detective should choose to appear now.

Yes, actually. On second evaluation, this was actually who Prey'd been getting worried about.

Crimson kept coolly regarding Strange Happenstance as the unicorn strolled up, "Fine then, that may not be illegal, but harassment certainly is."

Prey scooted his stool around sideways so he could see the mud coloured unicorn's every move. The solid blank of Strange Happenstance's mind pressed against his mental perception, not quite like that of a mimic's, but not like Crimson's own disciplined walls either.

Prey had learned his lesson with the last mimic, the one who'd so brazenly waltzed into the ISND's office when he was alone, and tried to take control of his emotions. Prey should have been in control of the situation from the very start, the disguised mimic had been in a room surrounded by runes he could've used.

But he'd held back, he'd let the mimic speak first, worried about what contingencies it might have, overconfident that if it came down to it, he could defend himself. So in he hadn't ended up taking any option until it was almost too late and the mimic escaped.

If you let the snake slither into your house instead of killing it because you were afraid, the question wasn't if, it was when it would bite you.

'I'll just kill you.' Prey thought. Dash forwards and touch the unicorn, throw his ribbon at him, either or, but just make sure he died before he could do whatever he was going to do.

Kill him. Right here, right now. Right in front of Crimson...

'Zoma'Grika.' Prey's heart dropped.

He could kill Strange Happenstance, but then Crimson would see. Hell, it was the middle of the street, even a quiet one like this. Anyone might see.

The same indecision which had paralyzed Prey back in the ISND's office once again afflicted him. He couldn't just kill someone like this, no matter what he might suspect, not and expect to get away with it.

'I can't just do this. Driving out the mimics has rattled my perspective, I'm losing sight of what's reasonable.' Prey got ahold of himself. Furtively his eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot anyone obviously watching. No, but that didn't mean they weren't. Strange Happenstance could have back up hiding just around the corner, and Prey couldn't read the disgusting unicorn's mind to find out.

Prey was in the same predicament all over again, like one giant bloody loop.

It was only a few seconds. The hat and coat wearing detective had walked casually up to their table, ignoring the way Prey drew back, and stopped in front of their small table just out of hoof's reach. Yet he didn't try to oversell his casual act by pulling up a stool from another table, instead he remained standing, weight evenly spread across his hooves.

Prey considered jumping off his stool, but then he'd be below the table top, and Crimson hadn't risen either. Strange Happenstance slightly tipped his hat brim back and raised one brow challengingly at that. 'You underestimating me?' He seemed to be saying. He probably didn't know how fast Crimson could move.

Crimson and Prey warily watching from one side of the tiny table, Strange Happenstance regarding them back from the other.

Prey finally finished considering his, no, their options and reached the obvious conclusion, 'There's nothing to be gained from interacting with Strange on his terms, and who knows how much to lose. It'll be better to simply leave.'

Unfortunately, by complete chance, Strange Happenstance started speaking just as Prey was making to push away from the table.

"You're both a sight for sore eyes, you know that?"

'What?'

"What?" Crimson echoed Prey's thought out loud.

But Strange hadn't meant it as any sort of compliment, "Seeing both of you, still both free, it makes my eyes hurt. By the way, how's the job destroying border towns going? I see you are both still enjoying the jobs perks at least, what with using your Guard position to escape justice."

Prey didn't look away from the possible threat in front of him, but out of the corner of his eye he spied how Crimson's feathers along the wing he could see bristled.

Mayflower and Alfalfa Dale hadn't been the ISND's fault, they'd fought and bled to stop the reaper king, and here this private detective who didn't know the details was blaming them? It could only be an attempt to rile them up and get emotional. No matter how infuriating and insulting the insinuation was, that was just what made it so effective. There was no way Prey would believe Strange actually felt that strongly about the perceived injustice to let his emotions control his tongue, not after how manipulative the unicorn had previously proven to be.

Prey spoke fast, cutting in just in case Crimson was about to rise to the bait, "Says the stalker without Night Guard access or knowledge of events. I know for a fact that a private detective has to pass the certified exams to be qualified. It's strange, Strange. I didn't know they approved of their approved detectives skirting the law and blindly following lies and bigotry over hard evidence. I think I should check that with them, actually. I'm sure Captain Nighthawk will be able to put me in touch with the right people."

Prey finished up with a friendly yet utterly unfriendly smile. When pushed, either ignore them or push back, turn the tables and put the fault back on them.

But while he was verbally reposting Strange Happenstance's barb, he was looking around the streets and houses for any witnesses. 'The mimics kept pushing and encroaching, and now they're dead. If you really are with them, then you haven't learned the lesson yet.'

Strange didn't seem moved in the slightest however, just as confidently smirking at them from under his hat brim, "Evidence is what you can prove, and up until you can, it's an investigation. By the way, I never said I was investigating you. This is just a chance meeting. But on a completely unrelated note, I've yet to to undertake an investigation I haven't seen through to it's conclusion. I told you before, the truth will always come out in the end. Always."

Crimson let out a low snort, thoroughly unimpressed, and also ticked off if the clenched muscles in his wings were anything to go by, "If I believed that, then I'd have nothing to worry about. But all your words reek of half-truths. And I don't like lies." He added for good measure.

"Well said, now let's get out of here. All those lies have left a bad smell in the air." Prey chimed in, jumping down off his stool. Meaning; 'let's get back to the market where there's Gloom and lots of witnesses'.

However that seemed to startle Crimson for some reason. In that half a second of surprise his eyes flicked sideways to Prey, showing something, before firmly locking back onto Strange Happenstance and any move he might make.

'What? What's the issue? Is there something-?' Then Prey realised Crimson was hesitating because they were supposed to be waiting for their order of hot chocolate from the Green Cockatrice, because they hadn't paid yet. It was so silly, there was literally nothing stopping them walking away aside from a sense of honesty, but Crimson was caught off guard by the notion of just leaving. Obviously it simply hadn't occurred to him.

Leaving was the smart plan. So what if they didn't pay? It was just hot chocolate. It was foolish to let Strange Happenstance trap them here at the table simply because of ingrained societal expectations.

But of course the infuriating stallion in his coat and hat caught the hesitation. Or perhaps he simply worked it out from the fact they were both sitting at this table, obviously waiting, with no food or drink in front of them.

Strange Happenstance raised his brows in faux offence, "Dine and dashing? Now that is illegal and a reportable offense."

"We haven't eaten. Que-e-dee, we haven't stolen anything." Prey immediately shot back, covertly gesturing at Crimson that they needed to go.

"You've placed an order with this fine establishment. You're obligated to pay, even if you don't use the service provided." Strange pressed, taking a step around the table. He stopped though as Crimson smoothly rose to his hooves:

"Keep away from us." He coolly ordered.

"Try me. I'm legally permitted and even obligated to stop you from performing a crime. And dinning and dashing? That's a crime."

"And being publicly harassed at such an establishment is just as criminal." Prey shot back, eyes locked on the unicorn's horn for the first hint of a spell.

"I've no idea what you're talking about, I'm just passing through the area." Strange said airily, repeating his earlier lie. Then he flipped back to trying to nail Prey in place with his mahogany red gaze alone:

"Violating your probation is also a criminal offense, I shouldn't have to remind you, but here we are. You might want to remember that in case the urge for any more sudden... 'midnight strolls' take you. Oh, and the Nightmare Night party too. Did you remember to inform your probationary officer in advance beforehoof? No? Tsk tsk, that's your second strike. Tsk tsk. Just one more and a re-evaluation and hearing into your case will be realised, and all the evidence brought up and re-examined. Just one more strike, and you're out. You'll slip up and forget to hide your wrong doings again, it's inevitable. I've got you no matter what."

Prey's first instinct was to lash out and kill him. So was his second. Not only did Strange Happenstance dare to try to threaten him, how did he even come by that information? But what really alarmed Prey was the mention of 'midnight strolls'. Did he know? Was he just fishing for a reaction? Was he referring to the night with Luna in Ponyville, repeatedly raising Nightmare Night, or another? Or was he just trying to drive a wedge between Prey and Crimson with false suspicion?

Prey clenched his teeth, 'But I can't kill him. At least, not here.'

It was utterly cliché, but Crimson beat him to asking it; "Are you threatening us?"

Strange Happenstance didn't answer. Rather than repeating his legal blanket denial from earlier, he simply stayed silent, still staring intently at Prey from under his hat brim. Prey openly glared back, but it was just a mask.

He was angry, angry at Strange Happenstance's arrogance, and sick to death of this constantly happening to him over and over and over, but Prey was calculating in his anger.

Prey was just so sick of this stallion and the paranoia the private detective caused him, 'I'm changing Lemon Pink's orders from avoidance, to hunting you down and ending you.'

He shouldn't have to deal with this. Hadn't he done more than enough of it for one life time already? He'd only just exterminated the mimics in the tunnels, and Strange Happenstance was so puny compared to that. Prey'd survived the Deeper Green, the Resistance, the Wolfing Wood, kindersnatches, sun worshiping zealots, thieves, Luna, himself, and now latest of all, the mimics. He should be so far beyond a random pony detective by now

But despite it all, Prey didn't feel safe.

Surviving those things didn't suddenly grant him any kind of magical protection from lesser dangers. It doesn't have to be a baloth, it could simply be a lucky child with a knife. Both could kill you just as dead. Prey would know.

All but the Sun Wolf and her younger sister would have to cross the river someday.

So Strange Happenstance? Prey held a healthy fear of him for what he could potentially do.

The detective's eyes narrowed, his thoughts completely opaque. And then completely unexpectedly, he stepped back. Strange Happenstance adjusted his hat, "Well I'll be. So that's how it is, then." He mused.

"That's how what is?" Crimson took a single, precise pace to the side, getting the table out of his way.

Strange just kept backing up, a thoughtful, knowing look on his smug face, "Don't you worry your pretty feathers over it." He drawled.

Whatever he was talking about, Prey didn't know. What could he possibly have just worked out? What did he know? Or was this yet another bluff just to get under their skin?

'You're dead. Shortly, you'll never be a problem to me again. No, no that's too risky. Don't have Lemon kill him, have her find him and then steal all his memories and mind wipe him instead.' Prey reined his hostility in.

It would be less permanent, but a safer solution. He wanted the departing stallion dead, but if making it look like an accident was too difficult, he'd settle for simply out of his wool.

'But if I can get away with it, then you're dead.'

Prey and Crimson watched the private detective with hawk-eyes as Strange sauntered off, not looking away until the last stitch of his heavy coat disappeared around the turn.

There was a long minute of silent tension, neither of them relaxing. Just waiting for the other horseshoe to drop with a clang.

"What was that about?" Crimson finally asked. He was still standing.

"I've no idea," Prey scowled, "How did he find us? Were we followed? Tracked somehow? It can't just have been dumb luck, so how-?"

The door to the Green Cockatrice was pushed open. Both of their heads jerked around to see the green unicorn worker from earlier, who served both as store worker and the waiter, come out with their two hot chocolates on a tray.

Prey had almost completely forgotten about their drinks order, and why they were waiting out here in the first place.

The unobservant pony didn't even seem to notice both her two customers were both standing and looking like they were about to leave. She just cheerily shuffled up, carefully balancing the tray in her magic.

"Here you go, here you go. Sorry for the wait, yes sorry for the wait." She echoed herself happily, sliding the tray onto the table, managing to just slop a splash of the steaming hot chocolate over the rim of the two mugs. The full moon glasses and non-existent mane style she employed really didn't help her seem any more aware of anything that wasn't her own personal little bubble.

'-nice day, yes, a very nice day. Got an extra mug left, and it's all good. Everything's good-'

'Service with a smile, even if there's nothing worth while going on behind the smile.' Prey thought, glancing back towards the corner again where Strange Happenstance had last been. He tried to relax the tension from out his scarred back.

Slowly he climbed back up onto his stool, and Crimson also retook his place at the old table as the green mare shuffled back to the door, happily humming something annoyingly tuneless.

"I don't understand. Why'd he just leave?" Crimson asked into the silence, looking down blankly into his untouched hot chocolate.

Prey could only shake his head, he didn't know either. Absently he pulled his now hot chocolate stained mug over.

He took a cautious sniff, then raised the steaming mug in both hooves to take a sip of the hot liquid. The heat kind of blanked out the taste, but even so it wasn't great. Prey'd had better hot chocolate at the Nightmare Night party, and that was the mass boiled kind. This had the faintly hidden bitter taste of-

Prey violently spat out his sip.

Crimson lent away, "Is it that hot-?"

"Don't!" Prey shoved himself across the table top to reach Crimson's own mug and knocked it flying.

Dark drown hot chocolate went flying through the air. The mug *cracked* on the cobbles but didn't outright shatter. Crimson sprang to his hooves, wings half spread and ready to fit. "What's happening?"

"Poison." Prey gagged. He hacked and spat, trying to get any trace out. Zoma'Grika, he'd tasted it! Had he somehow swallowed any of it? How much was a lethal dose?

His mind raced in time with his pulse, 'But the waiter wasn't thinking about poisoning us! How-? Someone else in the kitchen? Slip in and slip out?'

"Prey? Prey! Are you alright? What's going to happen?" Crimson demanded, beside him in even less than an instant.

"Dunno', *gah* I don't know. I spat it out, I don't, I don't think I swallowed any." Prey spoke fast.

Crimson reached for Prey's mug, "But-I mean, was it Strange? But how did he even-?"

"No! Don't even touch it. It might be dangerous, leave it. Strange Happenstance, I'm going to kill-! No, it can't have been him, can it? Wait, could he? The waiter! Stop her!" Prey suddenly cried out.

The green mare had been happy, too happy. Oblivious and happy, she'd been shuffling about and barely seemed to have even seen Prey and Crimson. Prey had been distracted, but those signs-she was being controlled. She'd been tricked, her mind or emotions messed with.

The mimics. This was their retaliation. Stupid stupid stupid! He was so stupid!

And what was the last thing he'd heard her thinking? What had that been about an extra cup?

Prey knew the mimics. He'd seen it in Mayflower, and when the fake griffon ambassador had blown himself up rather than be taken captive. 'No loose ends.'

Crimson didn't stop to ask any questions, he sprinted for The Green Cockatrice's door. He hit the door just right to blow it open, the momentum carrying him brought and inside before the rebound could slam it shut again on him.

Prey leapt off his stool, stumbled, and ran after him. He couldn't just bowl through, he actually had to push the door open.

"Stop, stop! You can't go back there!"

There was a clatter, Crimson was already in the kitchen, the manager ignored. The two ponies who'd been browsing the shelves were frozen, staring towards the kitchen door.

Prey cast around the shop, looking for a giant pony-shaped insect, or for anyone out of place. Someone had manipulated the waiter after all.

But he couldn't see anything wrong about them. More noise from inside the kitchen, the manager was nervously reaching for the door. There was no time to speculate. Prey ran for the store's kitchen himself.

The manager jerked back and yelled in surprise as the lamb slipped out of nowhere and beat him to the door. Prey had no time to waste on him.

The cafe's kitchen was tiny. Little more than room for a cool box, jars of tea and sugar, a stove and kettle, cupboards and shelves, and a backdoor leading to the bins out the back.

It only really had enough room for one person to work in it. Now there were two, three with Prey just inside the doorway. Crimson and the green mare.

Except she was on the floor against the cupboards, spilled hot chocolate across the tiles soaking into her fur, and Crimson crouched over her, gripping the feebly struggling mare's neck and head.

"What have you doing to her?!" The manager shrieked from behind Prey.

Prey grabbed a lie instantly, "She's choking, we heard from outside! We're here to help. Quick, turn her on her side Crimson."

"But I didn't hear anything! How did you-?"

"Don't just stand there, get help!" Prey snapped, desperate to get the panicking pony gone and out of the way, "Find someone, anyone to help."

"B-but, but, but I don't know-"

"Go! Call for help. Pass the word. Go."

Finally that got rid of him, the stallion turning around in a panic and yelling to the other two customers in the store what was happening, so they could all three panic together.

Prey turned back. Crimson had successfully gotten their waiter onto her side, and was forcing her chin up, keeping her airway open. The green mare wasn't helping. Her thoughts were an incoherent mess of panic strangely mashed up with false happiness.

All she knew was that someone was overpowering her, and that it was hard to breathe.

'A simple asphyxiation poison? But then why not go for something slower acting and less noticeable? Because they didn't know I'm skilled in poisons myself? A rushed job? An attack of oppitunity?' Prey thought even as he ran up to Crimson's side, avoiding the mare's kicking hind legs.

She blindly kicked a cupboard door, sending whatever was inside down in a noisy cascade. The spilled hot chocolate slicked the tiles, and the kettle started whistling shrilly on the hob. That's one thing you forget to envision with a potential emergency scenario. That it's not clean, that there's no time, and that there's a lot of noise.

"It's not her. She drank it too, I saw it. She's not the poisoner." Crimson grunted, fighting to keep her head up without hurting her as the kettle whistled.

That's right, Crimson hadn't known that, he'd misunderstood Prey's warning, but there hadn't been time.

"Zoma'Grika." Prey cursed. The mare was his only witness, never mind that the mimic had likely been shapeshifted and she wouldn't remember anything in her addled state anyway.

"Zoma'Grika," He cursed again, "We need to make her throw up right now. I don't know what poison it is, but it's her best chance. Hold her, I need a-"

Prey cast around, and saw a pile of knocked over cutlery holder on the tiles in the spilled puddle. He snatched up a long handled spoon in the cleft of one hoof.

"Hold her. Get her jaw open, turned to the side." He ordered. The mare struggled, the kettle shrilly whistled, the ponies out in the store neighed and shouted uselessly.

Crimson opened his wings and pinned the mares head down, then used his hooves to drive her jaw open. She panicked harder, but Prey was quick. He ducked under a wing shoved the handle of the spoon down her throat and hit her tonsils.

Naturally, she gagged and then hurled. Prey had already ducked back, avoiding the vomit which came out.

"Don't let her swallow any of that. Make her spit if you can, did you see any water? Charcoal-? No, they wouldn't have any here. Gah!" That could be him on the tiles instead, he'd even tasted the poison on his tongue.

"The sink. Get a cup or something Prey."

"I can't reach, where's a damned-?"

"The kettle has-"

"That's boiling, no way. Need clean water. Salt water, is there any salt?"

"Wha-? Oh, that kind of salt. Stay still. Listen to me, stay still-no don't do that."

"Keep her head up."

"I'm trying."

"Hey! If you can hear, stop fighting us. We're trying to save your life."

The mare kicked feebly, the ponies out in the shop panicked uselessly, and all the time the mimic who'd done this was getting away.

Nighthawk’s face was dark. The helmet on his head further cast his expression in shadow. Or maybe it was the weight of the helmet and the duties it represented which weighed so heavily upon the Captain.

“This is the first time something like this has ever happened.” Nighthawk stated for those gathered in the first free office they’d found after exiting the Palace infirmary. Prey had been taken in there double-check that there were no effects from the attempted poisoning.

Prey had tried to wheedle out of it, not trusting his health to the Palace doctor. He’d had no luck. The tired and grumpy doctor who’d been awoken hadn’t found anything wrong with Prey. Yet. Apparently, there was always a doctor and nurses on call twenty-four seven, and who slept at the Palace exactly for situations like this.

The doctor's surprise at seeing a sheep, and a runt lamb at that, in the Palace and in the company of the Night Guard had privately triggered all kinds of superstitious suspicions in the stallion's head, even if he’d kept his mouth shut throughout his examination. The unicorn had left as quickly as possible afterwards, though. Prey had heard his departing thoughts:

‘-what’re all these bat ponies even doing with a foal is what I want to know? And poisoned too, and all in Canterlot. Why, if he weren’t a Captain…-‘

Now they were in the commandeered spare office. Gloom and Crimson were standing close to Prey, as close as they could get without invading his personal bubble of space which he always so rigidly maintained. It was like they were worried someone would appear out of nowhere to try to poison him again.

They hadn’t been able to identify the poison used. Not surprising. Prey was probably the closest thing to a poison expert in the whole Palace, not that he sharing that titbit with anyone but Crimson, and he didn’t know what the poison had been either. He knew hundreds of poisons, but there were thousands more out there. And those were only the naturally occurring variants from nature.

He’d gotten a lot of sympathy and worry from everyone, but in the reserved, thestral kind of way. Actions speak louder than words, and what good was; “Sorry you were poisoned. Hope you don’t die”? None what so ever.

Instead, they sort of stood around, attentively waiting for the doctor to pronounce if there was anything they could do, while thinking grim, worried thoughts.

‘-that private detective has some questions to answer. If it was indeed him-‘

‘-again and again, everypony keeps striking out at us, the Night Guard-‘

‘-cowardly. How did they even slip in and slip out so fast? No, that isn’t what’s important-‘

‘-was it really attempted murder? Cold blooded murder? And one of them a foal?-‘

‘-why must the ISND always bear the brunt of these assaults? Why can’t any of us ever be there in time-‘

Although, and here was the big, important point; as far as every single person aside from Prey here knew, the attempted attack had been against the ISND, not solely targeted against the lamb. Prey had just happened to have been the first one to drink from the hot chocolate, but it could just as easily have been Crimson. Prey hadn’t been the only target. And that was important.

They didn’t know about the mimics, or why they were seeking revenge on Prey. If Prey’d had his way, they wouldn’t have ever even found out about this attempt on his life. He would instead have dealt with it personally, but Crimson had been there, plus the waiter, and all the other ponies in the Green Cockatrice at the time.

‘But at least they don’t know all the details, so that’s something.’ Prey thought. He felt queasy and ill, but he was prepared to put that one hundred percent down to the psychological aftereffects, and nothing to do with a sudden onset of poison.

He’d been attacked. Again. The mimics had tried to kill him. He knew this sickening feeling all too well.

‘Zoma’Grika, but I hate The Hunt.’

Then there was the waiter mare herself. She hadn’t been brought to the Palace, she was in a bed in the Canterlot Hospital. She hadn’t been very coherent, barely even seeming to hear those around her asking over and over what had happened, what she remembered, and if she’d seen anypony.

Not that it really mattered. It was obvious to all that if she had seen or sensed anything off, then obviously she wouldn’t have drunken the poisoned hot chocolate now, would she?

For that reason, she was cleared of any suspicion of wrongdoing. Someone had somehow poisoned the pot of hot chocolate, and she’d been an unintended casualty. To everyone else concerned, it was just bad luck on her part that there’d been enough left for a third cup, and so she’d poured the excess for herself after serving her customers. She knew nothing.
The manager of the Green Cockatrice would of course be questioned, but all the Night Guards already knew it would go nowhere.

Strange Happenstance was going to be found and questioned, but it was obvious he'd get out of it. He'd been in full view of Prey and Crimson the whole time, and so couldn't have entered the kitchen in that short space of time. An accomplice wasn't out of the question, but all Strange would need to do was deny it, and they were back to square one. Because nobody had been seen, they didn't have anything even remotely approaching proof.

'-we're still going to bring the bastard in and grill him for everything he's worth first, though-'

Plus, as a certified member of law enforcement who'd been thoroughly vetted before he received his detectives licence, Strange Happenstance got to enjoy a degree of protection against baseless suspicions. Because technically, he had no motive to break the law.

In short, they had no evidence.

“What a mess.” Screech involuntarily muttered, tail swishing behind him, the rest of his thoughts dark and angry.

‘-wherever good ponies rise up, the evil ponies there all lash out. That is the way of it, but by the moon, I miss the clans. Everything is always so complicated and bucked up here. Those nobles, the griffin spies, all criminals, why must it all be so damned complicated? Luna give us all strength, especially Prey-‘

Privately, Prey definitely did not echo that particular sentiment. Gloom, Crimson, and Prey were here as the ISND. Captain Nighthawk, Lieutenant Screech, and a new Corporal by the name of Pinnacle who was to be in charge of co-ordinating with Canterlot Hospital, were the entirety present for the rest of the Night Guard. Not that this news was going to be contained.

By tomorrow night, the rest of the Night Guard command would have been informed about this development and all the Guards under their command would be warned to watch out for any similar attacks against themselves. Because while it was almost certain this was an attempt only against the ISND, not the whole Night Guard, it would be stupid not to spread the warning just in case.

Thestrals were not average citizens. They wouldn’t mass panic, like a lot of normal ponies would've in their place, so there was no point in attempting to contain the information.

It was still just one huge mess, and it was only Prey who secretly knew how big of a mess it really was. Not even Lemon Pink knew yet. He’d have to fill her in as soon as possible.

Yet Prey wasn’t surprised. This was what happened in war. Murder, or attempted murder in this case. He was as guilty as the mimics were. He could only wish once again that it hadn’t spilled over onto Crimson too.

He was still taking it very, very personally.

Captain Nighthawk was speaking. Prey stopped tugging at his ribbon to pay attention:

“…Gloom. An attack of opportunity, but that does not mean it cannot happen again. Or even that attempts which simply failed haven’t been made before. Princess Luna will be told. However-“

Nighthawk’s gruff tone dropped an octave in resigned frustration. They all knew by now how that sentence was finished, ‘however there’s nothing more we can do’.

Not seeing a need to finish that sentence, Nighthawk moved on and switched to instead saying, “-Our duty remains unchanged. Both as Nights Guards, and to Princess Luna.”

“Gliding is easy, but to fly you must flap.” Screech murmured in agreement. It seemed to be the thestral equivalent of the saying, ‘The only easy roads are those which go downhill’.

“I wouldn’t know.” Prey demurred with false innocence before he could catch himself. He was distracted, busy juggling potential plans and consequences in his head. Usually in the Night Guard commands presence he stayed as quiet as possible to avoid drawing attention. But the atmosphere and the very recent poisoning attempt drew the secretly sarcastic comment out of him.

It got some mildly surprised looks as people blinked and once again remembered that there was a non-flyer in their midst who didn’t get the references and experiences they all understood. Crimson’s feathers shuffled. Prey pretended not to be paying any attention to anyone, and that the comment had been reflexive.

By the dead, Prey hated being a runt lamb.

“What action can we take, sir? I’m thinking, but honestly, I can’t come up with anything practical or sane.” Gloom asked, returning them back to the start of this discussion.

Gloom was angry, furious even. It went beyond someone trying to poison one of his unit, although that was unforgivable enough as it was. But after all they’d done and endured together, that an attack came when they were in the middle of Canterlot, on their one day off…

It was somehow deeply violating and personal. ‘-and I wasn’t even there when it happened. How dare somepony do this-‘

That sparked an idea in Gloom’s head. “Ah, I just realised, this could’ve been Griffonia.”

Nighthawk and Screech both stood up straighter as that thought settled in their heads. Unseen, Prey winced.

“Huh. Griffonia.” Nighthawk mused gruffly.

“And we all know they’d have reason to. But that’s only if they’ve found out it was us who infiltrated Griffon Stone.” Screech thought out loud, but it was definitely a thought.

“It would have to have been a pony sir. I mean, a pony working for Griffonia. A griffin would’ve been spotted if they were the one’s to do this.” Crimson put in.

Griffonia. There was no evidence, but to everyone here, excluding Prey who’s mouth was staying firmly shut, it could fit. But again, no evidence. But even so, it still fit.

“Let’s take this to my office.” Nighthawk ordered, “It looks like we have more to discuss. Seems there might be spies left in Canterlot after all.”

He didn’t say the word out loud, but again, everyone here could think for themselves.

‘-or not spies, but worse. Assassins-‘

Prey mentally groaned in exhaustion, ‘What an utter mess.’

Intrigue. A failed assassination attempt. Mystery. Politics. False accusations. Paranoia, both justified but also misdirected. It was like one of those awful action novels, where the hero gets the heroine in the end, or visa-versa.

It felt a lot less silly to Prey when he'd been the one to survive the assassination attempt. And while there was no proof which pointed to Griffonia, in fact there was an abundance of proof that it couldn't have been them, the tension's between the two nations were going to increase yet again because of this. Or maybe only on Equestria's side of things, since the nation of feathered bird lions wouldn't be in the know.

Or it was even possible nothing would change. Prey was hardly important. He was a runt lamb, a convict pressganged into service, and a child. He was a nobody. Now, if it had been an Equestrian noble or diplomat on the other hoof...

Still, it hadn't been the griffins, but the mimics sloppy attack still meant Prey was the one left in the lurch, what with being a Night Guard, and serving Princess Luna. How unfair was it that you had to help deal with your own failed assassination attempt? There should've been a law against that. Emotionally compromised, or some other excuse, Prey wasn't picky.

But no, that was against cosmic law. As punishment for his sins, and they were many, Prey wasn't allowed to have nice things.

Prey had to accept with weary resignation that the next fortnight, or longer, of his life in the ISND was going to be exclusively taken up with the hopeless task of hunting for more Griffonian spies that didn't exist. Two solid weeks was not a short amount of time. It wasn't months, but a lot could happen in two weeks.

Or a lot of nothing could happen instead. A lot of dull, boring, dragging, nothing.

Ask anyone. Two weeks is a long time when you're spending twelve hours a day, sometimes even fourteen when they over ran, working yourself to the bone on a task which turned up nothing.

Gloom and Crimson had become... oddly protectively paranoid. Which irked Prey for reasons he couldn't quite pin down.

They didn't discuss the poisoning attempt, only talking about it from the professional standpoint of their job.

"What motives would any employee of the Green Cockatrice have, if any?", "Where there any disturbance reports filed in the area the day before or the day after?", "Can the poison be traced?"

Things like that. ISND things. Things they didn't have to try to express and muddle out how it affected them personally.

So by silent agreement they didn't talk about it except professionally at any point during those two weeks.

The three of them tried searching through the Equestian postal service lists again to see if there was anything there. They found over a dozen possible links. A dozen possible links that they had to investigate, and a dozen possible links that turned out to be nothing.

They went back to the Gemstone refineries and mines, interviewing some of the forepony's and managers, but it was just turning over old ground again.

They even interviewed the captured Hafflow, the griffin who Nighthawk and the others had secretly abducted on their mission to Griffonstone, and who'd been the start of all this. Surprisingly, it was the first time Prey actually ended up seeing the griffin in person, despite having viewed the dark, almost black feathered griffin before in the dreamscape. In the shared dream with Screech. The one Luna had dragged him into without his permission, and utterly against his consent.

Luna. Even bottling up and putting aside his own personal disgust for Luna, and only looking at it from a logical standpoint, (and it was a not an easy thing to do), Prey still had trouble wrapping his head around her arrogance and brashness in ordering the mission in the first place. It should have failed, and if it weren't for Crimson and Gloom having been on the mission at the time, Prey would have been insulted that it hadn't failed like in all probability it should've.

But back to Hafflow. The visit to see the captured griffin had ended up being only brief.

The griffin had a cell. Not a dungeon cell, but more an actual room. One he couldn't leave, but still a room nonetheless. That had come as an honest surprise to Prey. He'd expected Luna to have given special instructions specifically ordering Hafflow's life to be made miserable. There were so many methods available to slowly break a person over time. No light, withholding food and water, a cramped, low ceiling, a cold cell, loud noises at irregular intervals, the removal of all forms of privacy, and those were only the most harmless of methods Prey knew of.

Instead, Hafflow had a small room. White, unadorned walls, a desk and a chair, an unmade cot, and a sink and a toilet in the corner with a privacy curtain which could be drawn. The desk even had a couple of paperbacks on it.

Really, the only difference which clearly distinguished this as a cell, not a room in a very cheap bed and breakfast overnight motel was that it had two doors, both of which could only be opened from the outside. The first was just a solid door with a viewing hatch, but the second was a metal barred affair. The second was always shut, but during the day, the first door would be kept open so that the prisoner's room could be seen into.

There was no need for a lightless, empty, lead lined vault when you were a magicless griffin. Not that there weren't some enchantments on the cell, Prey was sure there was an alarm spell in there at the very least.

Seriously though, this is what an international criminal warranted? This was actually slightly better than most households out on the border. Or was it precisely because the dark feathered griffin was an international criminal?

'Then again, perhaps Luna doesn't care enough to bother tormenting the griffin now that she's gotten what she wanted. Her hatred did seem to be more aimed at Felyawn, and he's now apparently dead.' Prey had thought as he stood behind Gloom, looking into the 'cell'. He was sure and alicorn had better things to be doing with her time.

Or maybe not. Who knew? When you were immortal, you got to experience all the time in the world once. The only thing you couldn't do was go forwards or backwards in it.

However, Prey didn't get his questions on the passage of time from an immortals perspective answered that day. It balanced out though, in a way, because the ISND didn't get any of their other questions answered either. Hence the short visit.

Hafflow had been laying on the cot on his front. He looked up when the three of them arrived outside the barred gate. From the way he started, he clearly recognised and remembered Gloom and Crimson well. New armour and colour changing enchantments or none, they'd been the ones to capture, tie up, and fly him all the way back to Equestria after all. Of course the griffin would recognise his tormentors.

Hafflow had rolled off his cot and stared at the two stallions. Not glared, just stared. His sharp yellow eagle eyes didn't have the sharpness Prey had come to associate with griffins. They were the eyes of the weary who was slowly loosing hope day by day.

"When can I go back to my home?" Hafflow had asked.

He hadn't answered any of the questions they asked, just; "When can I go back to my home?"

None of them had been very sympathetic to Hafflow's plight, and the griffin could obviously see that. He well knew his position as a political prisoner, and despite his trial and sentencing, the actual punishment which would be levied against Hafflow was still a bit hazy to everyone.

"When can I go back to my home?" Hafflow knew that his imprisonment was political, and knowing politics, he was holding out hope that he'd get politically released. But that flame of hope was obviously dwindling as one day turned into the next.

'He's no Stormcrow, yez'? A city griffin. No point to his talons, and no iron in his wings.' The remnant of Garrow had whispered in scornful glee.

Still, just as Prey had known they wouldn't, the ISND got nothing further out of Hafflow. Not even when Prey made a token effort and got under Hafflow's feathers and riled him up did the griffin do anything other than stand in his cell and refuse to reply to any of their questions with anything but; "When can I go back to my home?"

"When you've served your time, and not before." Gloom had eventually snapped at him, and they'd left.

The griffin had never been going to be able to tell them anything, but it still felt anticlimactic and cheap to Prey. Felyawn in contrast had been so driven, so sure of himself. Prey remembered the freezing fire in the griffin ambassador's ice fleck eyes, before he'd been replaced by the mimics of course, but his message and his devotion to his nation had been so much more impressive than the defeated, black feathered griffin in the cell behind them.

And it circled back around to the mimics in the end, exactly like it had started.

The mimics.

Prey had thought he was done with them.

He had hoped he'd finally driven them out.

He'd believed they'd finally learnt to leave him alone.

'Perhaps it's I who should've learnt the lesson.' Nowhere is safe. Nothing is sacred. No one can be trusted.

Now his future was back to being uncertain and dangerous again. He honestly didn't know what he could further do to scare them off.

He'd burned them, cut them, hurt them, suffocated them, poisoned them, and killed them. And in such a final, all encompassing, blanket sweep was which killed everything or nearly everything in the tunnels under the mountain. And yet still, the mimics had tried once more.

Was it a final attempt at revenge by a broken force? Or was it them continuing to fight back with what remained to them? Which was it? The answer could change everything. Too bad Prey had no way of finding out on which side the answer fell, and so would have to assume the worst. If he ever dropped his guard, then he was dead.

Prey was not taking the attempted poisoning well. People tried to kill him all the time it felt like, but the threat, that fear of death in the moment when your heart was pounding in your ears, and you could taste you own bile, and the unbidden question comes and you don't know the answer; 'Am I going to die?'

It wasn't a pleasant experience. It's not fun being the prey.

But two weeks became three, Hearth's Warming was right around the corner, and their work still yielded nothing. Because there was nothing to find. It hadn't been the griffins, it had been the mimics.

Prey didn't know what, if anything, Luna thought about this. Nighthawk had no doubt of course informed her in his reports, as a good little Guard Captain was supposed to, but whatever she'd told the gruff thestral Captain in return, he wasn't repeating.

That was honestly the best outcome Prey could've hopes eventually for on that front.

And then, because it had only been just around the corner, Hearth's Warming finally happened.

The green, gold, and red decorations on the streets and hanging from the eves of every houses had bred and multiplied. Small green fir and pine trees sprang up overnight, imported holly wreathes morphed out of doors, the sound of carols could be heard distantly throughout the day, no matter where you were in the city, and ponies started wearing ridiculous sweaters, jumpers, scarfs, ear warmers, and hats. Some of them even had bells on them.

Now everywhere and everything seemed to be infested with the festive holiday cheer. Everyone had been warned well in advance of the coming weather schedule for snow, how long it would last, when it would be carried out, where to take your children for the best sledding, and where to go for the best winter scenery. Because apparently, there was a rota every year to make sure all of Canterlot got its fair share of the festive spotlight.

Prey hadn't realised just how big of an event Hearth Warming was to ponies.

But standing on the open hallway of the second story outside his apartment, with the cold, dry breeze blowing stiffly into his face, and looking out onto the neighbourhood from his vantage point, that point was really driven home.

Because you could see it. Looking down from up here, you could literally see the decorations, the festivities, and the atmosphere. It was all around. The magnitude of it had rather snuck up on Prey with how seriously everyone was taking it, or everyone who wasn't an outsider or a Night Guard that is.

Why, if you had an unobstructed line of sight, were to look up and to the east from anywhere within Canterlot to the Palace, you'd see the biggest Hearth's Warming tree in all of Canterlot out the front. It was massive, glittering with decorations and light at all times of day and night. The tree must have been centuries old before it was felled, so large that it'd needed to be airlifted into position between two airships. Prey hadn't seen it himself, they'd been busy, but he'd overheard all about it from the chattering Palace staff.

Hearth Warming was everywhere.

The season was a nationwide event. Not like out on the border, where it was small and private, here in Equestria it was loud and huge. If nothing else, most businesses turned over more profit on the weekend of Hearth Warming than they averaged for an entire month. Or even two months.

Looking at it from even just that one angle, of a monetary one, Hearth Warming was huge. And what allowed every single nation in the whole entire world function? Why, the wonderful glitter of gold of course.

And reluctantly, Prey had a piece in the seasonal event by dint of being in Equestria, and by them knowing non-thestrals. Scenic, Carton Juice, Lilly, and Saffron.

"Happy Hearth's Warming!" Carton and Scenic chorused. They were there in the giant earth mare's bee themed flat, all seven of them.

Prey, Crimson, and Gloom from the ISND.

Saffron Swirl was also here, but couldn't stay for long, because she had a Hearth's Warming show she had to appear in as part of her job. She was dressed in what on anyone else would've been a garishly bright red and green festive jumper, but which on her somehow looked perfect.

Then there was Scenic, wearing a ridiculous paper crown matching his marefriend's atop his head, and who had helped greatly in getting this evening's celebration ready.

Carton Juice herself, the huge mare beaming down at all her guests as she welcomed them all into her sitting room, a small decorated pine tree in the corner with colourful wrapped presents underneath.

And last, and possibly least if you were feeling spiteful, Lilly Blossom, wearing her now customary loose shift and silk scarf to hide what she could.

Lilly was reluctant to be here, but Prey listened to Lilly mentally telling herself not to buck this evening after all the effort Carton had put into it. Lilly had been silently hoping that her parents would reach out to her at least for Hearth's Warming, and invite her to share in the family's celebration back home.

Failing that, she had at least been hoping for an invitation from Tallow, her brother, the one who was slowly making an effort. But nothing had come of her hope, and so she was left to celebrate Hearth's Warming with strangers for the first time in her life, instead of her blood family.

Actually, it was only Carton Juice here tonight who'd had the option of spending Hearth's Warming with her elderly parents.

"Who wants pie?" Carton Juice enthused, thoroughly enjoying herself tending to all her guests, setting out the fruit punch on the bee patterned tablecloth here, darting over to get Lilly comfortable on a floor cushion there, and just generally being a good host. Gone were the days of her nervousness in front of Gloom and Crimson, although she still couldn't look the former in the eye for any length of time:

"There's plenty to for everypony! I've baked an apple one, a rhubarb, a pumpkin, and parsnip one so everypony has lots of choice. Then we've got the roast potato bake for the actual meal, and then there's ice-cream, orange cake, cream, jelly, and chocolate for desert. Oh, and also just plain shaved ice for anypony who wants to follow the Hearth's Warming tradition instead."

Prey looked on for his second-most customary corner out of line of sight from the window. He'd dragged over a floor cushion almost as soon as arriving, intending to remain as unnoticed as possible for the duration of the visit. Unfortunately, his usual corner of Carton's living room was taken up by the Hearth's Warming tree.

Meanwhile Gloom was putting in the effort to be a conscientious and good guest, Crimson too in his own brand of blunt and sometimes obliviousness, but with Saffron and Lilly there as well, there was plenty of attention to go around. Enough that Prey didn't have to join in on any conversations, he could just sit near the fire, (his second seating choice), and go mostly undisturbed, him being bodily present enough to qualify as 'participating'.

The mantlepiece had its now familiar assortment of bee ornaments set upon it, but also hanging beneath it now a number of fake snowflakes dusted in glitter, and a weird decoration which was a fusion of four horseshoes, joined in the middle and all fanning outwards. Prey vaguely wondered what it was supposed to be, but only vaguely. He wasn't about to ask.

Which was fine, as it turned out Gloom was also intrigued by the oddly forged bits of metal, and asked the other ponies what it was supposed to represent.

Saffron had beamed broadly, "It is a clover, as a symbol of Clover the Clever. Note the four leaves to signify good luck and hope in the future to come."

'-I asked that same question the first Hearth's Warming after I was put out. I hadn't seen one either back then-'

It appeared there was a multitude of small, (and pointless in Prey's view), traditions surrounding Hearth's Warming. Like the placing of an orange on the mantlepiece, the sun decoration at the top of the tree, hiding a bundle of string beans around the house, and using a broom to sweep the doorstep, (even if there wasn't any snow on it because of the porch's roof), and singing the Hearth's Warming story carol around the table before you could start eating.

Prey actually knew the one about the hanging mistletoe in the door frame, or thought he did until Scenic and Carton kissed under it. That wasn't what the mistletoe was supposed to mean! Or at least, not out on the border. But this wasn't the border, this was they golden city of Canterlot.

When Prey un-subtlety checked his meal for poison, well, it was still too subtle for the normal ponies in the cosy room, Gloom and Crimson didn't say a word. In fact, they waited for him to nod and cut into a slice of pie before they even touched their own. Not that they thought for even a single second Carton Juice would even consider poisoning a rat, let alone a person, but then, the waiter hadn't known she was serving poisoned hot chocolate either, had she?

Free food was free food though, so Prey at least made sure to politely say thank you to Carton Juice for that, since you should never take your next meal for granted.

At his thanks, Carton had predictably gone; "Dw'aa, it's nothing," While still smiling with pleasure.

Everyone else complimented and thanked her for the food as well, Saffron the most eloquently, and Lilly the most perfunctory even if she really meant it, and Carton was left bubbling with happiness. She was an honest person who found honest happiness in making other's happy too.

'Spoiled, racist, entitled, and ignorant, and yet she's still a nicer person than me.' Prey could admit that to himself.

"Gather round, gather round. It's time for the gifts." Carton announced, clapping her huge hooves softly together.

Mayhap's she'd meant it to be a surprise, or perhaps simply not expected Gloom and Crimson to quite get all the nuances of Hearth's Warming as outsiders, but if so, it wasn't a surprise. Everyone here had brought a bag with them this evening, with a selection of small gifts for everyone else. Nothing big and fancy, just as a nice gesture all around.

Even Prey had ended up buying a present for everyone. It was less effort than arguing over the real value of giving, and it wasn't like he really cared about his Night Guard salary.

Gloom got up and went to get the bags and boxes they'd left in the hallway, while Carton and Scenic went on about how; "You didn't have to", and Saffron excused herself to also go play fetch. Crimson had kindly carried Prey's own bag of small purchases from their flats to here tonight, and when Gloom returned, he passed Prey the plain cardboard box.

Prey flipped open the lid, and inside, loosely wrapped in newspaper and tied up with string were his gifts. Because really, what use was fancy wrapping paper? All you did was rip it off to get to the real thing inside. No one cared about a banana peel, only the fruit.

What followed was the sounds of polite delight, mixed with thanks, laughter over some of the more humorous or ironic gifts, and the noise of scrunching paper.

Saffron helped Lilly get out and pass around her very badly and overly wrapped gifts, some looking like they'd taken almost a ream of wrapping paper to get right.

Prey ended up with a small pile of unwrapped presents of his own in front of him. He'd checked for any traps before unwrapping each one, but nothing exploded, and at the end of it he was left with a collection of mostly useless knick-knacks.

Carton and Saffron still didn't get it, despite everything, they hadn't experienced anything alongside Prey and the rest of the ISND, and so didn't understand, and thus, had given Prey some distinctly unsuitable presents. Obviously they meant well, and Prey smiled with a happy mask, but the gifts were still worthless.

Carton's was a small sketch pad and colouring pencils, specially chosen small so they'd be easy for him to use as a runt.

There was some ironic humour there, Prey thought, about the giantess giving a runt something scaled down to his size. He'd discreetly throw them away later, but for now, he just thanked her and pushed his own newspaper wrapped forwards for her. He didn't hoof it over directly to avoid any contact. Carton was so delighted she didn't even notice.

"Aww, that's so sweet and thoughtful of you! Thank you so much Prey." She almost squealed. Really, she was just a giant child.

Saffron Swirl on the other hoof had given him a big collection of ribbons, in every colour of the rainbow and size. "I thought you might want some variety. A different colour for every day." She'd said.

She didn't know how close to the invisible line she was treading, nor what Prey's ribbon meant. Crimson and Gloom didn't even know, but they both still winced and put on a false grin and offered Prey false congratulations. They didn't relax until they saw that Prey just thanked her, and didn't take issue.

Ha, as if Prey was going to flip out and suddenly kill someone over a misunderstanding which was harmless. If she'd known, and given him a ribbon knowingly, then Prey would've taken issue, but that wasn't the case here. Besides, Hearth's Warming was supposed to be the season of forgiving and new starts, wasn't it?

From Lilly, he got a box of chocolates. Gloom had thought along similar lines, except with him he'd given Prey a huge paper bag bulging with a mix of candies and sweets in every shape and size.

"I, it seemed appropriate at the time. I won't hold it against you if you throw it all out instead." Gloom quietly confided in Prey with a meaningful look. He was thinking about the poisoning attempt, of course.

It went without saying that Scenic, Lilly, Carton, and Saffron weren't in the know about that. They weren't Night Guards, and that information was considered sensitive.

"Thank you anyway." Prey nodded. It was a nice gift, not practical in the immediate sense, but it was food which was practical all on its own, and what's more, it was candy which meant Gloom actually knew something about Prey.

Prey decided to decide whether to throw all the candy away later. It would be a shame, but all that sugar and sharp tastes really did make it hard to spot any poisons.

Silly, ridiculous, unlikely, but it had already happened once hadn't it? But he could debate that later. Back to the presents at present.

Scenic and Carton had already exchanged their own gifts earlier, so now they were just distributing what they'd for everyone else out.

Saffron got a book series from Scenic, and a fancy tail ornament from Carton. Lilly also got a book series, but a different one, and a bee patterned scarf from Carton, which was a little bit awkward, as Saffron had also gotten Lilly a scarf, but a much more fashionable one.

Gloom had gotten a painting off a sheepish Scenic, depicting a windswept crag that the thestral nevertheless seemed quite taken with. He got a vest coat from Saffron, one of those thick ones with lots of pockets, which honestly wasn't a half bad gift, chocolates from Lilly, and jars of honey from the only beekeeper among them; Carton.

Crimson gave him a magic tinder box. Basically it consisted of two enchanter crystals, which shot off sparks when they touched together. 'Very nice. I should get a bunch of those as spares. Matches are great, but only as long as they stay dry. And those stones are faster to use than runes would be.'

And Prey gave Gloom a knife.

It was a nice knife. In fact, Prey gave everybody a knife, even Lilly, which might've been a bit inappropriate but that wasn't his problem.

"Um, thank you." Saffron said blinking down at her knife, for once at a loss for words.

Honestly, there was no pleasing some people. It wasn't as if he'd given them all skinning knives, or fighting daggers.

Saffron had been given a nice kitchen knife, very sharp, with a hoof loop for use by non-unicorns. Or in this case, magicless unicorns. Lilly had gotten a similar knife. Scenic had gotten a pocket knife, one with plenty of fold out tools which you'd use maybe once, if that, during the entire time you owned the whole thing.

Carton had gotten an oversized bread knife, one with a wooden handle to match her size, which was honestly almost a small hacksaw. It had a bee imprinted into the wood, so Carton was happy enough with it. Gloom and Crimson both got something a bit smaller and more harmless looking, but that was a lot less innocent in purpose.

Two small, short, flat blades, with handles less than the width of the knife, and shorter than the blade itself.

"How do I hold it?" Gloom had asked.

"Try touching it."

When Gloom did, the enchantment in the handle made it cling to his hoof. Gloom pulled the short blade from its also very flat sheath, looking over the gleaming metal. It wasn't purposefully made for cutting, or sawing, cleaving bones, or stabbing. It was meant to be hidden. The small and flat nature of the knife and sheath was purposefully chosen to allow it to be strapped beneath armour, or to the underside of a foreleg.

'-a backup blade-', Gloom had correctly deduced almost immediately.

Just a little something to help tilt the odds just in case. Something you could use to cut ropes, or if it really came down to it, whip out in a close quarters scuffle to open up the other person's stomach before they even realised. That, and just a few runes Prey had added for some extra unnatural sharpness and willingness to part hide and muscle.

Crimson looked over his own knife, testing the sharp edge with a loose black strand of his long mane. Satisfied, he slotted the small, deceivingly inoffensive blade back into the plain sheath, and nodded once to Prey in thanks and understanding.

Not that she was here tonight, but Prey had even gotten Lemon Pink a knife, or rather another knife. It had a fair few more runes on it than Crimson or Gloom's did, but it wasn't simply for a Hearth's Warming present, it was first and foremost to fill a practical role. Prey idly wondered what she herself had gotten her coltriend for Hearth's Warming, and what she'd been given in return.

Well, he'd find out when they secretly met after work tomorrow. The city morgue was basically empty of staff at this time of year, but just as filled with the deceased. Death is a festive tradition three-hundred and sixty-five days a year after all, and Prey could do with some more intact unicorn corpses to study.

The rest of everybody's gifts were more mundane in nature. Shiny baubles, chocolate, kitchenware, jars of honey, another couple of good paintings done by Scenic, ear muffs for the cold, a snow globe, and the like.

After all the wrapping paper was cleared away, Carton Juice broke out a strawberry meringue cake, with enough sweetness to give you a sugar headache at sight alone, and let everyone sit back, relax, digest their overindulgence, and enjoy.

Well, that's what they would've done if they were normal, conventional ponies, but only half of their number were. As a result, what should've by all seasonal rights been a relaxing evening which maybe descended into monopoly or charades, instead ended up as a theoretical debate about how you would survive a night on top of a mountain in a howling blizzard. Which lead naturally onto the fables of wendigos, a slightly sarcastic offer from Prey to tell a tale about wendigos from the border, which got hastily rejected by Scenic, and a delayed rejection from Lilly after she'd thought it over.

All in all, Prey'd had worse Hearth's Warming. Many worse. Fifty-nine of them worse. Fifty-seven of those rotting in Dreverton, and the other two inside the Deeper Green where he'd been so focused on simply surviving he hadn't known what day, week, or even month it was. Gossamer had experienced other Hearth Warming's from before, but not Prey.

All told, the evening wasn't as awful as Prey had been expecting it to turn out to be. And while it would've been much more productive to have spent it building runic arrays, he didn't have anything special he would've been doing alone for Hearth's Warming either.

So as the perfect thickness of a layer of snow blanketed the windowsills and rooves outside, (officially judged to be three and a half inches by the weather teams), and the warmth and cheer of the indoors contrasted the bright cold, there could certainly have been worse ways to spend an evening.

It was... not bad. Not bad at all.

In fact, there were only three ongoing things at present which would serve to ruin the sense of peaceful enjoyment. Which for Prey, when compared to his normal count, three wasn't actually that outlandishly of a high number.

Number one, his ongoing enslavement by Luna. That hadn't changed, but nor had it gotten any worse.

Second was of course the mimics, and was the most immediate and very real threat to him.

And for number three, was Strange Happenstance. And that issue was, Lemon Pink had failed to find the other unicorn.

After Strange Happenstance's incredibly suspicious timing at the Green Cockatrice, and that was before even taking into account all the paranoia, anxiety, and fear the private detective with his shielded mind had caused Prey. He didn't know what Strange's real motives were, nor what he was hiding. And Strange Happenstance most certainly was hiding something. And Prey was utterly sick of him.

So he'd sent Lemon Pink out to track down the stallion, or possibly even secretly a mimic, (because every time Prey thought he had the stallion's species figured out he went and did something to induce doubt), and Prey'd had enough. Lemon was going to find him, then they were going to capture him, and then they were going to take all of his memories. Then Prey would know how concerned he really needed to be, and what courses of action he was free to take to permanently deal with his Strange problem. Be that either mind alteration, or making the pony disappear entirely.

But Lemon couldn't find him.

Strange Happenstance was supposed to be a private detective, and he was officially registered too, but there was no registered home address. The office address came up empty, the small rented building dusty and unused. Further more, even illegally gaining access to the citizen registry hadn't revealed any one living in Canterlot with the name Strange Happenstance, although it was certainly possible they'd missed them. Even when you narrowed it down by the start of a first and last name, it still left hundreds of possible records, both current and old in storage.

Lemon Pink asking in disguise at the Civil Law and Prosecution Agency, that agency which Strange had subtly tricked into going after Crimson before Prey had dealt with them, hadn't yielded anything on how to find Strange Happenstance either. All the workers there knew was that he occasionally appeared in conjunction to cases, but nothing about how to actually contact him.

Strange Happenstance seemed to have business acquaintances, but no close friends or even business partners who could assist in the search. Be that willingly, or unwillingly.

It was utterly suspicious, and not at all like any other citizen in Canterlot. It meant without a doubt Strange Happenstance or someone else had gone to a lot of trouble to hide the private detectives everyday and public existence. Law wise, it was bordering on illegal. Or at least negligent on the records departments.

Not that Prey cared about the legality. If he found Strange Happenstance, what he would do to the stallion was in every way illegal too.

Not even when Nighthawk had summoned in the Private detective after the poisoning incident to interrogate him, (because of course the Night Guard Captain wasn't remiss enough to let Strange's unfortunate timing at the Green Cockatrice slide), had it given Prey anything to go off.

Mainly because Strange Happenstance had presented himself at the Guard compound without fuss before he could be summoned, which by the sound of it, would have been an issue since he didn't seem to have a permanent address. Almost like he didn't want his private address to be on the Night Guards records.

And of course in the interrogation, Strange Happenstance had denied everything, citing pure bad luck, just like they'd known he would before they even began.

Nighthawk and Screech hadn't explicitly told him about the attempted poisoning of Prey and Crimson, trying to trick the stallion into slipping up and admitting something, but that had yielded no fruit. And really, when they got down to it, it didn't seem likely Strange was guilty to them in the first place, or at least not guilty of the poisoning attempt.

Regardless of any of that, Nighthawk had told Strange Happenstance in no uncertain terms to leave the ISND alone, or else. Not that Prey had been there for the interrogation, but he'd heard second hoof that when Strange Happenstance challenged the Captain, "Or else what?", Nighthawk had refused to elaborate, simply growling, "Or else you'll find out." Either way, it had been a dead end.

It was infuriating. Nobody should be able to hide from Prey with all he had at his disposal. But Canterlot was huge, home to tens of thousands, and it was really diluting the scent, as it were. And Prey wasn't able to fully commit himself to the hunt, he had to split his focus on the mimics, and building the runes he and Lemon both needed to survive. It unfortunately came down to priorities. And Prey was much more afraid of the unknown shapeshifting mimics, with equally unknown numbers, magic, and motivations than he was of the private detective.

Not to put too fine of a point on it, but the mimics had definitely tried to kill him. Multiple times. Strange Happenstance had maybe tried to kill him once, total, if he was indeed even involved with the poisoning attempt.

Strange Happenstance would have to be a problem for another time. For tonight was Hearths Warming. And Prey got to spend it with his one true friend. Alright, one true friend, one nearly-almost friend, and four tolerable acquaintances.

Not the best possibility he could've imagined. Actually, he'd had a different idea about inviting Crimson to something of his own design instead, but this wasn't too bad of an alternative in the end. Not so bad at all.

A poisoning attempt. Two, and then three weeks of pointless investigation. Scheduled snow, and then Hearth's Warming. One year draws to a close. Another was shortly to begin. New changes lay ahead. New events, new perils, new successes and failures, new surprises both good and bad.

Come what may, it would still come. Because that's what time does. It never stops, nor slows, nor tires. It is simply the passage of time.

Prey, Gloom, and Crimson would shortly go back to their flats, return to work tomorrow afternoon, and from that perspective, not much would've changed. Was that good or bad?

And indeed, the new year didn't bring huge change to the ISND. Not every seasonal event finishes in a climax of self reflection and new year resolutions. Sometimes, it was just time.

It was late in the new year, approaching the end of January, and already the weather teams were pushing Canterlot rapidly back towards the warmer temperatures and climate that ponykind so adored.

The ISND had already completed two separate cases to catch some small time smugglers, quite by accident uncovering them when searching for the griffin spies which didn't exist.

And then, at the end of the first month of the year, chaos did reign.

"Despair under a sweet tasting sky of pink, because up will be down and down will be up, and how shall we fly away when we fly in reverse?"

Some forgot. Prey didn't. But did it ever help?