Chapter 8
Trace awoke to the sound of bushes rustling nearby. The creature sounded too clumsy and noisy to be a denizen of the forest; it must have been a pony. Donning his invisibility, he went outside and realized just how much he'd overslept. His body was trying to compensate for his more conservative diet.
Climbing out of his nest, he found hoof prints nearby leading deeper into the forest. He silently followed the tracks, analyzing them as he went. The short radius and shallow imprint suggested a foal. The spacing indicated stubby legs, more commonly found on the males of the species. That made whoever he was tracking a colt, and a rather small one at that.
The tracks led towards the manticore den he'd seen the previous day. If the colt wandered too close, he would undoubtedly be devoured by the beasts. Such was the cruel way of nature.
Trace was reminded of his escort missions long past. He would watch the convoy from afar while scouting ahead to eliminate anyone who threatened the safety of his hive. His former hive.
The assassin, no longer of the swarm, needed to pick a new allegiance. The ponies were enemies of the swarm, yes, but also peaceful. In fact, they were the only species Trace hadn't needed to kill... more than one of.
A scream pierced the silent woods, followed by a deep, rumbling roar. Hoof falls were heard approaching, and soon, the very colt Trace was tracking appeared out of a dimly-lit area where the canopy was thicker.
The pony was mostly white with light brown spots and a dark brown mane. Just as Trace predicted, he had short legs, and also a somewhat chubby build. His stature was meant for anything but this.
The manticore gained on his prey, jaws wide open to snap up the little morsel.
In a flash of instinct, Trace's training took over. He fired his horn with deadly accuracy, striking the beast in the head.
The felinoid's skull was exposed under the bured flesh, and the beast responded with a stomach-curdling scream. It turned towards Trace and looked right at him.
So, you can sense me too? Trace thought, Excellent. I needed a challenge. He lunged forward, his horn alight with burning energy.
The small colt ducked behind a large tree and watched the battle ensue between the enormous predator and his unseen enemey. The giant cat swatted at the empty air in front of him, but something kicked up dirt as it rolled out of the way.
He couldn't believe his eyes. Something invisible was there! He didn't know whether to run away or stay and watch. Fear and astonishment made his decision for him, and held his hooves in place.
Trace dodged a stray jab from the monster's tail. It was relying on scent and sound to track him, but still depended on its sight a great deal enough that staying cloaked was giving him a good advantage, and one he did not take for granted; one swipe from its massive paws would very likely be the end of him. He rolled to the side and slapped a glob of mud into its face.
As the manticore tried to clear its face, the assassin fired another shot while rolling, slicing its wing. With the appendage hanging by a thread, the manticore started to panic and reared up in an attempt to hide its injury and appear more intimidating. Trace took this opportunity to charge its underside, jamming his horn into its chest. A well-placed charge made the beast's heart explode in its body.
The manticore's breath caught, and with a sickening gurgle, it fell to the cold ground, feebly caughing up blood. Its eyes slowly closed as death took hold of it.
Trace panted and wiped the blood off his horn against a somewhat clean part of the manticore's pelt. He felt the colt's gaze glancing off him, trying to search for his rescuer.
The little pony's eyes flicked around the body of the creature that now lay dead before him. His breathing shuddered and became more frequent. His eyes locked on the ground where hoof prints were appearing out of nowhere. They were coming right towards him. He gulped and slowly backed away, visibly and audibly trembling.
"Are you alright?" came the disembodied voice.
The pony froze and stared straight ahead.
"Answer me."
The foal gulped. "Y-y-yes, s-sir..."
Trace didn't recognize this accent. Somehow, it suited the foal, though. This was a trait the assassin had come across once in a nursery, something called endearing. It was a demeanor that was used to draw pity and adoration from others in an effort to gain their affection. Trace could imagine no a no-more shameless method of getting one's way. He liked this kid already.
"What do your kin call you?" Trace asked.
"P-Pipsqueak." The colt cautiously stepped out from his hiding place, still cowering low to the ground. "D-do you have a name?"
Trace weighed the option of giving away his real name. He was an enemy of the swarm now, but none of them would be able to catch him off guard here. The ponies didn't know who or what he was either, and even if they found out what he was, there was no way they could link him to the last time he came to Equestria. That and saving one of them from near certain death (as certain death would have actually happened) he might be able to make a case for himself. To further differentiate himself from the swarm, he was the only one with red eyes and had different powers; he could argue he wasn't even related to the ones that attacked Equestria.
"You can call me Trace," he finally said.
"Trace," Pipsqueak repeated, "Th-thank you for saving me."
Thank you. Trace had never been thanked before. He'd been praised by the queen, sure, but no one had ever expressed true gratitude towards him.
Trace put his hoof on the colt gently. Without being seen, physical contact would be needed to properly conduct an empathetic link.
Pipsqueak froze at Trace's touch. His gratitude was a new and welcome taste, and surprisingly more satisfying than the queen's pdide, which was shallow by comparison.
"It was nothing," Trace said, "I... do stuff like this all the time."
"You save ponies all the time?" Pip asked excitedly, "Are you a hero?"
"Um... something like that." Trace figured the foal was probably too young to understand what an assassin was.
"Will you..." Pip hesitated. "Will you be my friend, too?"
Friendship was exactly what Trace needed if he was going to live outside the hive. "Yes, I will be your friend. But only on one condition."
Pipsqueak cocked his head to the side. "What is it?"
"Nopony can know what I am," he said, "I stay invisible, no matter what. When I am ready, I will show myself to you and the others. Agreed?"
Pipsqueak nodded. "Alright. I promise."
"Promise what, little Pip? What is it, my dear?" asked another voice from behind.
Trace fell silent and let go of Pipsqueak when he sensed the zebra nearby.
She gasped at the sight of the dead manticore. "How did you avoid that monster's grip? What happened here?!"
"The manticore attacked me, Zecora!" Pip squeaked, "Then this thing that was so fast, I couldn't even see it, came out of nowhere and beat it up!"
Zecora looked partially sorrowfully at the dead cat. "I wonder what could have brought this one down. But for now, come along. Let's get you back to town."