The Hound of Ponyville p3: Lanterns In The Mist
By Thanqol
“Oh hey, Pinkie Pie,” I said awkwardly. There was something about the way Pinkie snarled when she spoke that set my feathers on edge, like she wasn’t so much greeting me as accusing me.
“Pinkamina! Do you know this - filly?” snapped Mrs. Pie, and I could have sworn she was going to end that sentence with ‘harlot’ and changed it at the last minute. I bristled slightly and was about to respond in kind when Pinkie cut me off.
“No. She just used to be one of my customers and nothing else,” Pinkie said, turning her nose up in the air.
“... While the Great and Powerful Trixie no doubt cares deeply about this emotional reunion, the Great and Powerful Trixie has had a long trip and would like to get it over with,” Trixie piped up, and Mr. Pie nodded.
“Of course,” he said in a tired, gravelly voice as he turned and walked inside. “Follow me,”
Trixie and I exchanged glances, but Blueblood strode inside without a care, so we cautiously followed him. Pinkie walked ahead of us, which blocked even attempt at conversation.
“An’ this here is the main hall,” said Mr. Pie, leading us through a great hall with a sweeping double staircase, lined with portraits of past lords of Ponyville Hall. It chilled my blood when I saw Fluttershy’s picture hanging from the second story wall – it was only half completed. Fluttershy’s sad eyes looked out from under a red hat which was the only colour on the painting. It turned into sketchy pencil lines below the shoulder and faded away entirely a little later.
In the picture, Fluttershy looked like she was crying.
“Who does the paintings?” Trixie asked, following my gaze.
“I do. Hobby of mine,” said Mr. Pie. “An’ my father before me. Kinda cut off before I could finish that last one. This is the dining hall. We have some guests here already, I’m afraid.”
“Guests?” I said, remembering Rarity’s instructions to talk to as many ponies as possible, “Would you introduce us?”
“I reckon I’ll let Pinkamina do that, they are her friends,” said Mr. Pie. Pinkie stalked ahead of him and opened the door.
The dining hall was empty, and I looked around twitchily. And then a high-pitched voice came from nowhere, “Nice to meet you, everypony.”
And then a low, mumbling voice added “Well. Nice to meet most of you.”
At this point, I was able to locate the source of the voices. The seats were occupied after all, but it wasn’t by ponies. There was a bucket of turnips, a bag of flour, a pile of rocks and a lump of lint all talking to me at the same time. No doubt you are concerned for my sanity, and in that moment I was too. But I noticed that Pinkie had somehow got past us and had slipped under the table, and was moving the garbage and making the voices. It was the creepiest puppet show I’d ever seen.
“So, Sir Lintsalot, I appreciated the letter you wrote me the other day,” said Pinkie, shaking the bag of flour.
“Of course. It’s only natural for friends to write to each other,” said Pinkie as the lint heap.
“Oh yes. I even wrote a letter to Pinkamina the other day. Do you know that was the first letter she got since she moved here? From anypony?” said the pile of rocks.
“Why! That’s downright DESPICABLE!” cried the bag of flour.
“Guys...” said Pinkie, putting on a slightly nervous smile as she took a seat at the table, “We have company, and this probably isn’t making a good first impression... maybe you should introduce yourselves?”
“I am Rocky,” said Pinkie, eyes unfocusing and leaning over the table to shake the rock heap.
“Sir Lintsalot,” said Pinkie, wobbling the lint.
“Madame le’Flour,” said Pinkie, shaking the flour bag.
“Mr. Turnip,” said Pinkie, rattling the bucket of turnips.
“ENOUGH!” Shouted Prince Blueblood, “Mr. Pie, this is ridiculous! If your daughter insists upon being insane, discipline her!”
“Pinkamina Diane Pie! Go to your room!” Snapped Mr. Pie without hesitation.
Pinkie Pie stopped dead, eyes widening and jaw dropping like somepony had just kicked Gummy in front of her. She lowered her head and started to walk slowly from the room. There were tears in her eyes and she was glaring at the floor, muttering under her breath.
“Cute kid,” said Mr. Pie, smiling after her.
Blueblood swept Mr. Turnip off the chair with one hoof and sat in his place. “Dinner,” he said haughtily.
“Right away, sir,” said Mrs. Pie, disappearing into the kitchen.
I exchanged another look with Trixie. She looked as weirded out by this as I was. “I think we’re gonna go for a walk,” I said.
“Careful about the moors,” said Mr. Pie, tipping his hat.
“Okay, that’s new,” said Trixie, letting out a sharp breath once we were clear of the house.
“What, the absolute insanity?” I said, glancing over my shoulder at the intimidating form of Ponyville Manor.
“Yeah. The Great and Powerful Trixie knew Pinkie Pie as a hyperactive baker.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Hmm... not for a little over a week. Trixie had not seen her for a day or two before Fluttershy disappeared, and did not see her afterwards.” Trixie said, thinking.
“Maybe Fluttershy’s disappearance hit her hard?” I suggested.
“All the more cause to recover Fluttershy as soon as possible,” Trixie agreed, “Trixie feels confident that every sane pony the world over will recognise that The Great and Powerful Trixie cannot be replaced by a bag of flour, but in the event of total disconnect from reality it is possible that ponies will stop respecting Trixie’s greatness.”
“On the topic of greatness, I still want to check this supposed ward you set up, and then take a look at this avenue and this gate.”
“Of course. This way,” Trixie said, leading me down the hill, towards a field with hundreds of glimmering red lights.
“These are the family kennels,” said Trixie, stopping near a gate and gesturing at a large shed a little way off the property, “There are two dogs in there, well trained creatures but we had to move them when Trixie put the ward up. Here is why.” Trixie’s entire hat glowed as she worked a spell, and the latch on the gate undid itself. Trixie cleared her throat and boomed in her orator’s voice, “The GREAT and POWERFUL Trixie orders you to COME!”
Two dogs – big dogs, a Francponyan breed all orange and black and teeth – bolted from the kennels like shots from a gun and raced towards us, barking wildly. I reflexively jumped in the air and readied myself to have to kick them. They jumped the fence at the same time and, impossibly, froze in the air, all momentum gone. The dogs continued to bark and slobber, legs kicking uselessly in the air. Trixie walked over to them, smiled with a kindness I did not expect of her, and patted one on the head. It licked her hoof enthusiastically.
“I didn’t take you for a dog pony,” I said in surprise as she produced treats with a puff of magic and gave one to each of the dogs.
“Showdogs. Trixie’s family bred them. They’re excellently trained and smarter than most ponies Trixie knows,” Trixie said, gently pushing the dogs in the centre of the chest and they drifted back over to the fence and dropped to the ground. They stood there, slobbering enthusiastically. “Home!” Trixie cried, and both dogs turned and ran back to their shed.
“Well, I suppose I can’t doubt the effectiveness of your wards,” I said.
“No, you cannot,” Trixie sniffed. “Though Trixie has never tested that particular spell against ancient demon dogs, hence why Trixie believes that is still a possibility.”
“Well then, shall we investigate this gate?”
I followed Trixie over to the gate to the moors where Fluttershy had lingered. It was a simple wooden barrier. I paced back and forth along it, looking out over the mist covered moor, and at the lines of red lanterns that lead through it.
I was thinking hard, asking myself what Fluttershy had waited here, in this spot for? Had she been waiting for somepony? Who? Why? The sun was setting behind us and the looming line of the Everfree Forest became a towering blackness, rising to block out the stars.
“Trixie, does anypony live in the forest?”
“A zebra, or so Trixie has heard, but she doesn’t come this way often. There are two neighbouring houses; to the north, the estate of Lady Octavia, to the south the hamlet of Bridle Shores.”
“And does anypony of note live in Bridle Shores?”
“Well, the Pie family has a house there where they officially live, though Sed regularly stays with the house, as do the others when the master requires them. There may be a few farmers or other rubes but nopony whom Trixie feels is worth noting.”
“I see. Shall we investigate the avenue?”
Trixie lead me up the avenue where Fluttershy had disappeared. It was a dense and overgrown corridor of trees, with the branches above making it seem like a tunnel or cave. The rains had all but destroyed the tracks, but here and there Trixie pointed out gouges in the trees from what looked like enormous claws. Eventually she stopped, halfway down. “This is where she vanished.”
I gazed at the spot, trying to recreate what had happened here. One part was easy enough – the visual of Fluttershy running down this endless avenue, with no way out to either side, no way up or down, just a pure contest of speed against that demon hound – my imagination had become quite active in visualising exactly how that particular moment had played itself out.
“Lookin’ for somepony, ladies?” said Sedimentary Elbert Pie, stepping out from the trees. I jumped in the air, and even Trixie looked like she was about to hex him.
“Sorry. Sorry. Was just makin’ sure you hadn’t got lost,” said Mr. Pie, sounding tired and coming out onto the road proper. “Can’t be too careful.”
“Right... Mr. Pie, have you ever seen a hound around these parts?” I asked.
“What, the Hound of Ponyville? Lady, in my time I’ve had five Lords and Ladies, and the Hound has got every pony of them. Same it was with my father, and his father before him.”
“Have you ever seen it?”
“Oh, aye. Sometimes when I’m walking the moors I see it in the distance. Huge beast, line of stars on its head, glows blue and black and is covered in constellations. Like an Ursa, but bigger and scarier.”
“Hmph,” Trixie said, “defeating an Ursa is foal’s play for a unicorn like Trixie.”
“No doubt, lady,” Mr. Pie said, lighting a lantern he’d brought with him, casting deep red shadows all about us, “But it’s got a lot of unicorns in its time too. Now, I’m going to be moving some lanterns tonight, so stay clear of the moor, y’hear?”
“Why are you doing this during the night?” I asked. From what I’d heard of the moor, that sounded extremely dangerous.
“It’s safer at night, because the only thing you can see is the lanterns. No temptation to go off course,” said Mr. Pie. “There’s a philosophy to live by, eh? If all you can see is the goal you can’t go off course.”
“Right. See you around, Mr. Pie,” I said, and the old stallion picked up his lantern and continued his slow walk down towards the gate.
Trixie and I continued to the manor in silence, not having much to say to each other after that ominous exchange. We returned to the dinner table – now blessedly lacking any sign of Pinkie’s ‘friends’ – and took our seats. Moments later, Mrs. Pie laid out some surprisingly well prepared food before us.
“Mrs Pie,” I said, still determined to learn as much as I could about this situation, “Apart from the disappearance of Fluttershy, has anything unusual happened around these parts?”
“Oh, well a criminal escaped from Bridle Shores a week or so back.”
“Why was Trixie not informed!?” Trixie cried, slamming her levitating glass into the table. “This is important!”
“Oh, I tried to tell you, but by the time I’d heard the news you’d already left for Ponyville,” Mrs. Pie said sedately. Trixie ground her teeth.
“And this criminal – he escaped before Fluttershy disappeared, didn’t he?”
“By a matter of hours.”
Trixie stood up and stomped away from the table. When Rarity entered fits of pique like this, most of the time I could tell she was hamming it up intentionally, but with Trixie it seemed she genuinely was angry at the news. “Here I am, entertaining theories about demon dogs to explain what was clearly a criminal taking a hostage!” Trixie cried. “What a waste of time... Rainbow Dash, at very least, you and Rarity have more experience tracking down ponies, correct?”
“Sadly, yes,” I said. For a moment, I inwardly celebrated, thinking that there was no demon hound and that this was a straight up knock down kidnapping, with a culprit whom I could kick in the face.
But some part of that explanation rung hollow. As much as I would have liked to believe that there was nothing more supernatural here than perhaps a rogue unicorn, I feared that there was by no means enough information to make that conclusion. That nothing that happened here, in Ponyville Hall, would be resolved that simply.
“Very well, Trixie will spend some time updating her protections around the Prince to defend him against malicious ponies, and you, Rainbow Dash, track him down and bring him to justice.”
“Right,” I said, but I did not truly believe it.
That night, I could hardly sleep. From downstairs I could hear Pinkie’s muffled voice as she spoke to her inanimate objects, apologising to them on the Prince’s behalf, and from the raised voices... er, voice... I could discern that they weren’t buying it. Out the window, I could see the moor, with the lines of red lanterns glimmering, and the slow, steady movement of Mr. Pie’s lantern along the lines of red light. I was troubled by the thoughts of the Prince, for I had no way to determine how serious he was – I liked to think he was simply looking for an easy conquest, but feared that he might harbour more serious plans for me. Neither option seemed particularly appealing, especially with the memory of Rarity’s wide, trusting smile when I agreed to look after him.
And then there was that half completed picture of Fluttershy hanging from the wall above the main hall, doomed to forever be an incomplete skeleton. The promise of a picture, never to be finished.
What had she been crying about when Mr. Pie had drawn her?
Who was this criminal who had escaped from Bridle Shores?
What had happened to Pinkie Pie?
It was my task to discover the answer to these questions, to stay here until the mystery was solved and the case was closed, but every bone in my body, every fibre of my being was screaming at me to leave.
Leave. There’s something wrong here. Something you want nothing to do with. Leave.
In the distance, I heard a howling, as if from a great hound.