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// Chapter Two: Dust 
// Story: On The Horizon 
// by Normal 
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I slouch down low, my mane now dangling in the dust,  as one more attempt to break free from the ratty dog fails to get me free. I am not giving up. This, this is  simply me hating that mutt, born from the nether’s of gutter rat as he is, I will not give up. I know though blaming the little rat is irrational, as much as I feel he is responsible for the situation. Everypony in the kingdom knows not to tangle with the path of a Guard and considering what I was planning on doing just now…Had I gone through I would be lying in the very gutter in front of me, flaps of skin not glued down by coagulating blood waving in the wind like the royal flag. My body would be left to rot in the feces and discarded trash of others. No one would touch the empty shell left behind for fear of being seen as aiding an undesirable of the state. I've seen what has happened to those deemed undesirable by the state. 

Once, just a few years back, the body of a gambler who had a few too many  hung from the market place's center. This man’s crime was a little too much cider and a little too much luck. He won a small bagful of gold bits from one of the Guard’s men, enough that could have his family eating regularly for several months. But with his mind addled with intoxication  he would not just walk away with his gain. He wanted to flaunt, from the tops of tables, that he won money off of one of the formidable King's Stallions. The next morning his body swung in the breeze, the pouch of money dangling from his neck and his cutie mark flayed, then branded off. The bell-like clink of the bits could be heard by all the ponies that stepped hoof in the marketplace. No one dared try to grab those bits for themselves and the body hung from that rope until the peckings of the crows severed it. It took longer though for the scent of decay to fade away.

And that was simply a case of a Guard demonstrating his power, letting loose like a rabid dog. When on official business, like I suspect this is,  the dogs are not only given free rein but completely let off their leashes. These are blood thirsty ponies with no care for others. They see others a mean to the ends and that is it. 

In truth there is a little voice in the recesses of my mind that is telling me that the dog just saved my life. Chances are unlikely I would’ve met quite the same gruesome end but dead is dead. And if I live there is still a chance that my aunt will meet a similar fate. Despite being a dictator in all but name, the Grey King likes to keep up appearances. Any one that is formally seized has to get a trial. True, they are one sided trials time and time again, but if one wishes to take the risk and gamble, yes I realize the implication, you can. Of course they are just as likely then to deem you an accomplice to said crime and execute you alongside your loved one… Most ponies won’t even bother anymore when they lose a family member to the King anymore. The will continue with their lives, heads hung low, pretending nothing ever happened.

But I won’t let that happen. I’ve always been told I was too headstrong by half and I guess everypony was  right about that.  But, by Equestria green fields, that is my aunt they took. She raised me since I was a tiny foal, still mewling from the loss of my mother’s warm womb. She taught me all I knew. She taught me to be strong in the face of others. And I will be.
I realize with a loud rumble that it simply would not do to forgo food though. One cannot think clearly after all through the fog of hunger. Another thing Aunt Heart taught me young.

Since one is not allowed to enter the home of an accused until they have been convicted and executed, I slip the calendula underneath my wing.  I was regretting not bringing a  saddle bag and more coin with me now, but had I been able to foretell this happening I wouldn’t have left the house. With my wits closer to home now I reach for my coin bag. The faint jingle tells me I only had, at best, five copper bits left. My hand freezes there as a revelation swims its way through to the fore front of my mind. There is something that I can do.

And I should have thought of it sooner.

I waste no more time with my flank in the dust and get promptly to my hooves. There is someone that can help me, a someone that should have come to mind as soon as I saw the Guards. I try to brush as much of the dust off from around my flank and tail, though the quick brush down leaves much behind. If I get time later I am going to have to take a curry brush to my hide. Already the itch of dust is biting at me and when the noonday heat hits, my coat will mat down with sweat-made mud.

I give one more shake, the slight muscles under my withers rippling in response.  I shift the feathers slightly in one wing, careful not to jostle the plants loose. It would admittedly be quicker to get to my destination with the use of my wings but I would rather not risk running afoul of any Guards doing so. Another aspect of living in the unicorn capital of Equestria that rubbed many, mainly the pegasi, ponies the wrong way. 

I notice absentmindedly that the dog has left now, the only sign he was there marks in the dust where his tan tail dragged in pleasure. A though flits through my mind wondering when he left.
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