//------------------------------//
// A Mare's Path 
// Story: Innavedr 
// by Imploding Colon 
//------------------------------//

	A whistle blew, and the gates to Blue Nova stretched wider.  While zeppelins and hovercraft puttered overhead, the guards lining the entrance stepped back and motioned towards the heart of the city.  They watched with lethargic eyes as a wave of ponies—all robed—shuffled their way into the western districts in one accord.  One by one, they fell under the shadow of the upper spires, their brown robes hiding any expressions or emotions.

Merchants drawing wagons paused at intersections to allow the procession to pass by.  Relatively affluent citizens hovered at street corners, gazing at the Mintian monks and muttering gossip with one another.

Eventually, the pious parade passed into the lower districts, where the shadows were the thickest.  Pass impoverished back alleys and heaps of squalor, they trotted, making their way towards a humble, concrete monastery nestled within the foundation of a far taller building above.

As they turned around a final corner, a pair of monks at the rear of the procession suddenly darted out of line.  They hurried into an adjacent alleyway, blending into the darkness within.

After waiting for several seconds, the smaller of the two monks lowered her hood to get a good view.  Bellesmith's ears twitched, for they were free of the weight of hair.  In fact, the mare's entire mane was completely gone.  Her golden coat shone throughout, and it made her look smaller somehow, more frail.  She bit her lip and gazed upon the streets beyond, waiting for the last of the Mintian visitors to trot out of sight.

"That was a little too easy," Belle muttered.

"Nnngh... Speak for yourelf."

She looked over his shoulder.

"Gaagh..."  Phoenix hissed, perpetually scratching his upper lip and muzzle.  "This is why I never, ever shave..."

"Stop touching it," she muttered.  "It'll go away, I'm sure."

"Pffft... And what would you know about facial hair, huh?"

"Because whenever Pilate shaved, he'd...."  Her voice trailed off.  She cleared her throat and muttered, "It'll go away.  Trust me."

He blinked at her, adjusting the hood over his own bald skull.  "So, what now?  We can't pretend to be monks forever.  They're gonna wonder why we broke free of the group."

"It'll have to last for as long as we need it to."  Bellesmith fumbled under her robe and pulled the old tome out from her saddlebag.  A lavender glow illuminated her and the stallion's faces.  "What we're looking for can't be that far away."

"And just what are we looking for?"

Belle was silent.

Phoenix sighed, yet managed a fragile smile.  "Look, I don't understand any of this, but let's not try to do anything too brash, okay?"

"You mean besides chopping our manes off...?"

"I mean, let's try not to stick our heads too far into where they don't belong.  And when it comes time to do just that..."  His eyes narrowed.  "Let me stick my head in first.  That way, if it was the wrong decision, you can still run away and have a second chance."

She turned and glanced up at him.

He stammered, "D-deal?"

"Phoenix, you do realize, that I've no clue if you and I will ever make it out of this city..."

Phoenix's eyes briefly fell to the floor.  He took a breath and said, "Yeah, well, at least you can last longer.  Okay?"

She blinked at him, then slowly nodded.  "Okay."  Pivoting about, she glanced at the tome, waved it back and forth, then made a decision.  "Northeast of here."

"You sure?"

"No.  But let's move anyways."

And from out of the shadows and into more shadows, they did.