//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4: First Hunt Part 2 
// Story: Welcome Home, Hunter 
// by KutKu 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 4

"Uh, Twilight..."
Spike was standing over a living room covered in tribal masks, boiling cauldrons, and all kinds of glass jars with anything imaginable in them. The lights were dim and the air was humid, filled with smoke. Eerie greenish and yellow toned lights glowed from several of the jars, the cauldrons bubbled with strange smelling liquids.
"Oh good, Spike, you're back." Twilight was holding a dripping paintbrush, herself covered in all sorts of white stripes and designs. "I need help drawing the lines on my back, could you help me out?"
Bewildered but still driven by habit to help out, spike grabbed the brush and jumped on her back.
"All you have to do is connect the stripes from one side of my body to the ones on the other side. I'd use a mirror but it’s too dark to see and they need to be perfect."
It was easy enough. "What's with the war paint and Halloween decorations, Twilight? Are we gonna throw a costume party? I'll kinda want to use my cape and top hat costume, but only if you make me grow another moustache! Yeah that will be great!"
"No, Spike. I’m trying to do a magic spell. Yesterday i spent the whole day trying to find a way to extend the hour i get to read the journal, and i think i might have it. Zecora said it best:
If a pony's privacy you must invade,
then try this potion for which i made.
It will help you break the code
but bad omens it will bode."
"Bad omens? What kind of bad omens?" Spike had such a nasty habit of always looking at the worst of things.
"Don’t worry about it, it’s probably just the implication that if I ever misuse this potion to spy on people it can strain friendships. The worst case scenario would be the gods I have been paying tribute to do what I can now do for free would get upset."
"WHAT"
"But don't worry, i have already prepared a very large offering to beg for mercy in case the full wrath of the gods comes down on us, this shouldn't be too bad. Here, take this checklist and help me do the final preparations."
A checklist for a recipe? Only twilight would figure out how to do a checklist for something that basically functions as a checklist already. Spike grabbed the page and started from the top.
"Eye of newt, dragon's tongue, manticore blood," as spike read each entry, Twilight would grab a jar or bowl and throw something into one of the cauldrons. Each new ingredient caused a puff of smoke or spark of light. "Uh... Twilight these ingredients are a little weird. Kraken slime, gorgon's kiss, u..unicorn liver." Spike's eyes widened in surprise, "LITTLE GREEN AND PURPLE BABY DRAGON HEARTS?! Twilight what kind of ingredients are these?!"
"They're just archaic names for common household herbs, Spike. Dragon's tongue is just a normal hot pepper, manticore blood should be a dash of cinnamon, and baby dragon hearts are coriander. The green ones are not yet ripe and the purple ones are fermented. Don't get too worried, i wouldn't use the heart of my best assistant for some measly potion."
Spike felt relieved.
"I'd save that for a summoning ritual."
Several individual mixtures boiled in the cauldrons. A very tribal looking Twilight stood in the center, the smoke of the brews swirling around her in a dance of dark arts.
"Keep reading the checklist, Spike! It’s almost ready!"
"Oh... right... uh, genprey scales, sunset herb, secret mushroom, wyvern tears," By then the whole library was filled with an unnatural aroma. There was only one more ingredient on the bottom of the list. It was simply labeled as a question mark. "Twilight, the last item is a mystery. What do we do?"
Twilight, overcome with the fumes and smoke around her, started a chant as she held an item in her hooves. The tribal stripes all over her body started to glow brightly, magic overcoming them as they stopped being painted on and started moving, shifting, warping all around her skin.
A brew to see the secrets kept
A drink for all the tears unwept
A potion for the rage within
A tonic for the private sins
Let us drink to find the truth inside
This coded book so quickly hides
A final explosion of smoke and fire surrounded twilight. Her magical markings started to rise from her body like drafts of vapor and mix with the dense smoke around her. They began to stream steadily into each cauldron, blending with the brew and infusing it with the magic.
It was finished. The concoctions stopped swirling and glowing, becoming pale orange colored water in the pots. Without hesitation, twilight began to ladle the liquid into vials, empty glasses, mason jars, just about every sealable container in the library. Spike lent a hand, stacking the filled jars into piles.
"Twilight what was that last ingredient you had in your hooves?" Spike would admit this was a particularly cool spell. Twilight doesn't dabble too much with potions and alchemy. This little cooking show was a welcome relief from all the tornadoes and whirlwinds and earthquakes she usually caused indoors.
"In order to get this potion to work, i needed something from the target. Usually it’s a tuft of hair or a scale, a personal item like a toothbrush or comb, or some other item of that nature. I followed the hints in the journal: rolling hills, tree carvings, rock piles, the direction the cliff was facing, stuff like that, and i eventually made my way to the base of the cliff the hunter fell from."
Twilight was doing it again. Spike had not read the journal; he wouldn’t have any idea what she was talking about. This was actually quite common, the little baby dragon just learned to nod and agree until she started talking sense again.
"I did a little searching around the cliff base for anything that belonged to the hunter, scraps of hair or dried up blood or something, and to my surprise there was some of his armor still there, rusting on the cliff edge!"
Twilight gave spike the item. It was just a rusty bucket with a lip on one end. What kind of armor is this? What could this thing possibly protect?
"You're holding it upside down, spike. It’s a hat. All of the leather and cloth is gone, obviously, thanks to it being exposed to the elements for several years. I’m lucky i found this. With an artifact this big and important, the potion is bound to work!"
Twilight walked over to the pile of jars and vials. She looked around, carefully contemplating which one to take. An uncovered mug caught her eye. Filled to the brim with the brew, she recognized that particular cup as the novelty mug she bought that had a map of the stars, constellations of several pony gods highlighted. How appropriate. Spit in the face of the gods then drink from their cup.
A deep breath to prepare for the unexpected. The whole process was done correctly, all the ingredients checked out, but even with all the precautionary measures there was a good chance the potion wouldn’t work. Or worse. That’s why twilight didn’t particularly like alchemy and potions. The nature of the magic was always so random, so chaotic. Looks like twilight would have to risk it.
In one swift motion she downed the drink, bottoms up. It was spicy but with a hint of citrus. Odd, considering not a single fruit was involved in the process. Actually, compared to that other stuff applejack gave her last week, this wasn’t too bad.
"Now to wait for the effects..."
"What do i do with the rest of the bottles, Twilight?" Spike couldn't help but worry about the giant pile of orange bottles taking up a whole corner of the library.
"If the potion works I won’t need them, I’ll let you know if you can start throwing them away."
"WHAT? You only needed ONE? Why did you make so much of the stuff anyway?"
"Spike, it’s better to be prepared. It took a whole day to get the ingredients and a half a day to paint all those markings on myself. I’m not going to do that again. Besides, it made a lot more than i thought it would make. Let me grab the journal so i can see if this is workinnnnn..."
Twilight's pupils dilated to their maximum size. She was looking outside the window of her house, way up in the sky on a cloud. Ponies were walking around, living out their lives and minding their own business. They were so small, so insignificant, like ants. Little tiny ants that didn't know they were about to be squished. Twilight thrust her blue hooves forward, as if to step on the ant-ponies. You're dead. You too. Oh look you're dead. Ha! This is really fun. Well, it was fun. It’s boring now. Back in her cloud house she walked to the kitchen. Some oats were in the pantry. A glass jar of milk was in the fridge. A box of Wheaties was on the table, the black and white image of a famous athlete pony on the front. It was someone from a long time ago; apparently they're running "classic" athletes series of box art for the moment, this one particular pony being from the first brigade of the Wonderbolts. The mane of the athlete was colored in with a marker, well, several markers of every color in a rainbow pattern, and a familiar lightning bolt cutie mark was drawn over the original. She remembered doing that. It was pretty funny. One day, Twilight, one day you'll be the one on the box.
"TWILIGHT!" Spike shook her desperately. "HELLO? ANYONE IN THERE?
Twilight's pupils returned to their normal size as she snapped out of her daze. What in the world was that? It felt so realistic! Did the potion do that? It was amazing! Was this a side effect of the potion?
Clairvoyancy was no stranger to Twilight. There were at least 2 spells she could think of off the top of her horn that would let her see through the eyes of other living things. This, however, was much stronger. For one, the target was way up in the clouds. All the spells she's even heard of required either physical contact or line of sight. Not only that, it really felt like she was Rainbow Dash! All her memories, all her thoughts, they were all there completely open! Curses! She should have taken advantage of that.
"You know what, Spike, let’s just keep the potions. All of them. We might need them later."
Twilight opened the hunter's journal and saw that the words once again were completely legible. Good. The potion works AND has an interesting side effect. More research will need to be done, but later. The book summons her and she must respond.

First Hunt: Part II

I woke up alive today. 
That in itself was an accomplishment and something halfway towards a miracle. Well, I didn’t actually "wake up," so to speak. I regained consciousness and tried to open my eyes, but i was so sore, so tired, so weak, that even my eyelids wanted to stay closed. "It’s ok," I told myself. I felt the cushion of my bed, I felt the soft down of my pillow on my head, a cool breeze on my face, and this was enough. It told me I was alive. I was hurt but I was breathing; my muscles were so sore that even the thin blankets draped over me felt like an immobilizing weight pushing me down against the bed. 
I took in one deep breath. My bed sheets were up against me, or so it felt like, and I caught a big whiff of their scent. They smelled like a warm loaf of bread, with some sweet sugary tones and just the minor hint of wheat and yeast; a consequence of being in a bakery, no doubt. One by one, piece by piece i tried to assume direct control of my body. I moved my right leg out just a bit. Good. My left leg didn't move though, it felt like something was blocking it, holding it down with just a gentle amount of force. My right foreleg also freely moved out and in, albeit not without an incredible amount of effort. My left foreleg was also immobile, however this time i clearly felt something on top of it. Still my eyes would not open. Moving my face to the left made it bump against something very soft and warm. It must be a pillow or something. I rubbed my cheeks against it, the warmth it radiated was so nice and it smelled so good i couldn’t help it.
Slowly, i moved my free hoof over to the other side of my body, wincing at the sharp pain but eventually grabbing the pillow in a full-fledged hug. It was just so comforting. My whole body was in pain, and I still couldn’t force my eyes open, but just the fact i had something so nice to rest on made all my troubles melt away. The weight of the pillow was crushing one of my limbs, yet I didn't want to move it. The fibers of the pillow tickled my nose and its soft heat eased my pain. I could have stayed hugging that pillow forever. Whenever I squeezed it slightly, it made a high pitched squeak like a dog's chew toy. The sound made me chuckle a bit and i squeezed it a few times more, trying to figure out what kind of pillow even does that.
That is, until i heard the pillow giggle.
My eyelids burst open, pupils constricted to little tiny dots. Once again I was staring into the face of chaos. There she was, lying next to me, staring straight into my soul. This pink pony succubus had appeared in my bed. My pulse started to race. What do I do? Run like a coward? Hide somewhere? My body's inability to respond to either fight or flight gave me really just one option, accept my fate. I broke the hug and returned to my original lying position. I closed my eyelids shut and started a silent prayer. If she wanted to suck out my soul and drink all my blood I’d just let her. I’m halfway dead anyway.
"Good morning, sleepyhead." Pinkie Pie got up from the bed. 
She was happily trotting around the room, looking at the decorations, twisting her head sideways at the artwork. Racks of monster horns and antlers, wood carvings of beasts of old, ancient superstitious runes engraved on tables for good luck, all these things which were quite commonplace in a Guild Hall went under her carefree scrutiny.
"Usually all this stuff was covered in blankets." Some antlers found a way to the top of her head. "This stuff is really cool!"
She was acting so untroubled by this. How did I get to my bed? Why was she there with me? What exactly happened to her last night? How is it that she's so perky and I can barely move?
The thought of moving must have jinxed me. Sitting up, I opened up my mouth to start a long string of carefully worded questions that would demand answers, but instead I started coughing up blood.
"Oh, you're doing it again. Good!"
Oh god what.
"I've been giving you this smelly green stuff all night, but you just recently started coughing so i mixed it with some honey to help your cough, but then you stopped breathing for a long time I thought I wasn’t going to be able to test it out!"
NO! What was she doing, trying to kill me? Combining items is a difficult and risky procedure! Any change in ingredients could accidentally cause conflicts and turn antidotes into poisons. Hundreds of hunters have died trying to come up with this now perfected recipe.
I saw the hooves I coughed into were coated in blood. None of my instructors mentioned honey as a potentially lethal ingredient when mixed with the potion, and since I was pretty much hocking out a lung, I didn’t really have any say in the matter. Pinkie shoved a glassful of the stuff into my mouth and I let it go down the hatch.
Long story short: It worked. It worked better than I could ever imagine. The potion with honey ended up curing everything I had. Within minutes I was out of bed and walking around. Pinkie held up a mirror for me and i saw the dozens of giant bruises all over my body slowly shrink and eventually vanish. The wound on my leg would tingle as I felt the actual fibers of skin reattach.
Pinkie grabbed my hooves and started to dance around in celebration. To be honest i was so happy I started to dance around too. Music played, and I think she started to sing a song. I think it was titled “Stuck under the floor until the hunter comes home.”
"Ever since you got here you haven’t smiled at all." she said. "When you were making angry meowing noises at opal, when you were sitting there in your underwear during the party, when you sat outside of Fluttershy's house mumbling to yourself for a while, and when you came back and saved my life, not a single smile. Not even as you kept fainting all night. Nothing until right now! Congratulations!"
So that's what she was after the whole time. No punishment for my past sins, no thirst for my blood, she’s simply a normal pony who, uh, likes to make ponies smile. A large burden fell from my back as I finally could see this pony girl for what she really was. Sure she was strange, and sure she could somehow be in two places at once, but her intentions were good and, quite frankly, I don't mind her company.
She hung around for a bit and asked if she could borrow the antlers on her head. They're just decorations; we don’t really hunt anything with actual antlers, so i let her take them. Most of the time i was still a bit worried she'd say something about our little encounter. However, she never mentioned what happened in the bed and didn't look too upset, so I'm not going to let that hang over my head either. Pinkie Pie might be the kind of mare that forgets silly embarrassing things. I wish I could say the same about me. Walking out the door she bumped her head, the antlers were way too big to cross the door jamb. I opened up the big double doors for her instead, and she straightened up and walked through them with her head held high like a hunter, probably out of respect, or well, at least as much as you could give while wearing giant antlers.
I watched her leave. She was headed into town with those things on her head. I could only admire her cheerful demeanor she kept even when accidentally bumping into trees and fences. I know i wouldn’t have the courage to wear something silly in public. Hell, i don’t even show my cutie mar...
OH GODDAMNIT. I patted myself down, hoping to feel my armor or at least my padding. Nope. I wasn't wearing anything. My armor was completely destroyed yesterday. Oh god no. Pinkie Pie saw it, didn't she? My cutie mark! Both my hooves were on my face. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"Yes, you are."
The voice startled me, especially since it was in Felyne. That darned guild cat, Opal, was on my dinner table, looking at me with the most smug expression her furry whiskered face could pull off.
"It has come to meow attention that you failed a quest yesterday. Not purrly that, but the entire quest was handled so badly you were almeowst killed. I'd reprimand you for taking on a quest that would be higher than your hunter rank allowed, but you did not. You somemeow managed to fail a beginner level mission in such a specatular way that I think you deserve some sort of award."
She grabbed an envelope with a bright red wax seal on it and placed it on the table.
"As for your armor, the guild will supply you with a mew set of simple leather coverings. I should be wise to order several more befur the whole guild goes under, seeing how quickly you destroyed your first. You could expect it to arrive in a few meownths. In the meantime, try to take quests that won't kill you so easily; or at least try to die somewhere easy to find."
Opal jumped down from the table and walked out of the room, her stupid tail flapping around as high in the air as possible. Good Riddance. It was just what I needed to completely sour the moment. What was that letter she left? I opened it up and started to read it.
It was an announcement. A town-wide invitation to a funeral:
In loving memory of Ms. Bessie Fields, our beloved milk cow
Daughter of Betsy and Boss Fields,
Who died bravely defending her herd during a monster attack
"Weep not that she isn’t, rather cheer that she once was."
You are cordially invited to blah blah blah... Sweet Apple Acres... noontime...
My eyes focused on the ominous phrase, "Monster Attack." When did this happen? Was this recent? Seeing as it’s a funeral it probably was very recent, stupid. As the town hunter, it was my duty to attend that funeral; to find out what happened. Could some monster attacked while I was out on my first mission? Was this something inevitable or could I had stopped it? 
The funeral wasn’t until later on in the day, these questions would have to wait. In the meantime my efforts were better spent finding a replacement for my armor; something to cover up this accursed sign on my flank at least. I had a spare set of cotton padding that goes under my armor. It made me look like i was late for a 1940's game of pony football, but it would have to do.
I still didn't know much about this town. I’m pretty sure I didn't introduce myself to anypony other than the Cakes and Pinkie (that yellow one in the cottage doesn’t count), so i decided to pay the baker couple a visit once more for directions to the local weapon and armor smith.
The bakery was full of patrons. Mrs. Cake was working the register and Mr. Cake was frantically handing out all sorts of sweets and goodies. They worked flawlessly, elegantly; like a well-oiled machine. She would duck and move out of the way of his trays and tongs without even looking, and he would so easily distribute even the most complicated orders to every patron exactly like Mrs. Cake told him to. Well, it’s no wonder they made this place into a bakery. This is probably what these two were born to do.
"Well look at that, cupcake." Mr. Cake said, his hooves working his magic without him even paying attention to them. "P.S. is totally fine! I told you us hunters are made out of stronger stuff."
"Oh thank goodness," she replied. She wasn't relieved that I was still among the living, but rather, she was relieved there was an extra pair of hooves available. "I kept insisting we take you to a hospital, but honey bunches kept saying you would just need to sleep it off. P.S., be a dear and help us out. In the kitchen the ovens are done baking all the muffins. Just take them out of the oven and place them on the counter to cool. We'd do it ourselves but it’s a bit busy here."
I figure since I needed a favor, i might as well give a favor back. The kitchen had four ovens, each with three racks and two trays on each rack. These guys really meant business. I don’t know my way around a kitchen too well, most of a hunter's diet consisting of large chunks of soy steaks or king wheat that can be grilled over any makeshift fire. The armor padding I wore acted like an oven mitt as I removed the muffins, making the job much easier for me.
As I finished, Mr. Cake walked into the kitchen breathing a sigh of relief. The rush was over, apparently, as all the consumer ponies left to start up their workdays. He was dragging a very large box in front of him, judging by how it scraped on the floor and how he struggled; the box must have weighed plenty.
"So I hear your first hunt didn't go so well," he casually observed as he sat on his box to rest, a bit of a smirk in his face. "That's perfectly normal. Why, I remember my very first hunt. I was supposed to gather some giant herbivore eggs, simple enough. But I accidentally mistook the nest of a big bird with that of a fire breathing wyvern. So there I was, walking back to camp holding this giant egg in my hooves, when I hear the loudest and most angry roar I have ever heard in my life, and I see a big green Rathian flying overhead. I thought she was angry then, but you should have seen how angry she got when I DROPPED her egg running away. Needless to say I was in the hospital for a few days after. That was back then when the catbulance service was still in effect. It’s a shame I was out of it while the guild cats rescued me. I would have paid good money to see a bunch of them distracting a monster while they dragged my body into a cart and hauled me to safety."
I had heard about that. Hunters during the Guild's heyday had it easy. Cats who would keep an eye on you as you hunted and would rescue you from death like clowns at a rodeo? I'm lucky the guild gave me breakfast the day after I graduated. Still, back in the day there were many more rules and I probably wouldn't have been able to get away with using a sword instead of a bowgun.
"Opal also told me your armor is completely destroyed as well. Is that true?"
I nodded my head. Please don't ever ask why it’s wrecked, there's no dignifying way to explain that.
"Well, you're in luck. Me and the Missus were just about ready to throw away everything we ever owned that connects us to our former lives. She's got her guidebooks and I’ve got my armor and bowgun. You're free to take them if you like; you look like you need them... however, only on one condition."
The whole kitchen's atmosphere changed in a second. Not even the white and pink decorations could blunt the sudden dire change in mood. The lights seemed to dim all around me and the way Mr. Cake stood over me made it look like I was being interrogated. Mr. Cake had a fire in his eyes like I've never seen on any pony before, and his voice was just so serious it made me cower back into myself like a turtle.
"I am in charge of protecting Pinkie Pie. Her father is a close friend and he told me to keep her safe. I see you two have already met. I also see Pinkie didn't make it to her room last night. I wonder, where could she have been?"
Like the first time he grilled me a few days ago, I suspect that question was purely rhetorical. He knew exactly where she spent the night.
"She's a smart girl. I trust her judgment. However, I know exactly what we hunters are capable of. Even the most careful girls get worn down and break eventually. I'm not gonna let that happen. If you so much as trick her into sharing a single milkshake with you I swear I’ll feed you to the hungriest of the wolves i can find."
Standing up from the box, he opened it up and revealed all the items inside. His tone once again shifted back to his usual, awkward, cheery self. 
"But as long as you're a nice guy you can use our stuff, right Honeybun?"
Mrs. Cake was at the door, raising the light dimming switch back up to full power. She merely pointed a hoof at her eye, then toward me, and then she drew the hoof across her neck from ear to ear before walking her husband out of the kitchen. 
I think... I think I'm in a bit too deep for my liking. It's not like I could explain what happened with that Pinkie Pie, I don't understand it myself. It should be ME who needs to keep his wits about him around that filly.
"Oh, before i forget," Mr. Cake peeked his head into the kitchen. "That armor isn't going to fit a short guy like you. You should take it to the seamstress to get the buckles and belts repositioned. It's the big Carousel-looking place. You can’t miss it."
I remembered seeing it stick out like a sore thumb during my grand entrance. Since the Guild Hall is located in a candy coated bakery, the Smithy would naturally be inside a carnival ride. Naturally. As silly as this sounds, perhaps this town's tendency to decorate houses in ridiculous themes might actually be a good thing. Countless nights I would be lying awake in the academy, wondering about what would happen if instead of a hunter I was a monster. If I was smart enough, I’d attack the food stockpile of a town, the blacksmith's forge, stuff like that to ensure its complete destruction. However, I could imagine how confused a monster would be when he has to pick whether to destroy the house made out of candy, the merry-go-round, or a giant tree with windows. With my luck I know I'd end up destroying the pony hut that yellow shy one lived in instead of some important building.
Inside the box were a whole bunch of books, a bowgun that looked like it had never been fired before, and the armor I remember seeing Mr. Cake wearing during our first impressions. All of the armors I had experience with were made up of 5 major pieces: helmet, chest piece, gauntlets, boots, and belt. Gauntlets were separated from the boots because they had special devices to stabilize the bowguns and hooks to pull back the bowstrings and load arrows faster. A swordsman like me didn’t need all that fancy stuff getting in the way so my trainer told me to just wear two sets of boots. This armor came with gauntlets, the left one being armored much heavier than the right. When it comes to armor it is better to simply not wear items that you are unfamiliar with, so i might have to go halfway barehoof for a while. I took out the books and the gun and just carried the box with the armor inside.
The "Carousel Boutique" was visible from just outside the door. It was a brisk walk, especially with that box on my back, and I couldn't help but notice everyone would turn their gaze at me as I passed. To be honest, other than the day I first walked in, I had not revealed myself to the town. This must have been the first time the public had seen me. I'm glad was hiding my cutie mark in these armor liners. 
The front door of the boutique was also one of those Dutch doors with two separate hinges like in the yellow pony's house, probably a necessity out here in semi-rural civilization. The porch and walls were sophisticatedly decorated however, a far cry from the haphazardly placed birdhouses of that other place. It wasn't a random assortment of stuff that fit a theme like all the other strange locations here. This one had style, it had order, it was about as designer as a house made out of a giant carousel could be. I wondered about the pony inside. All i knew was that she was a seamstress.
I imagined an older mare, probably a widow, dressed in a plain brown dress and white apron, hair tied up tightly in a bun to keep it from getting in the way of her work, thick rimmed glasses on her eyes, and needles in her mouth as she held up measuring tapes against headless mannequins. I wonder if asking her to modify something like this armor, with all those spikes and tight leather pants would scare someone with such simple ponyville sensitivities. Knocking on the door, I waited eagerly for a response.
"Will you walk into my parlor?" said the spider to the fly.
The door was open, and I assumed she called me in because she was busy with other things. A few steps into the boutique and my severely delayed hunter senses kicked in. Something was wrong, very wrong. Cold chills ran through my spine, and I instinctively turned around, ready to run at the exit. Sadly it was too late. The door slammed closed and there she stood, locking the bolts secure.
She was the most intimidating pony I had ever met. Her vibrant, catlike eyes batted the longest lashes I have ever seen. Her mane flowed in a long purple curl that shimmered as brightly as her immaculate white coat. The way she stood, the way she walked toward me, the way her stare reduced me to a little whimpering pile of a pony, it reeked of elegance, of finesse, of pure class.
While out on the streets on off days, hunter ponies at the training academy would go out into town to have a good time. Plenty of cat calls were made, pickup lines were tossed around drunkenly like darts, and a filly couldn't walk a block without some crass hunter asking if she'd like to see his "bowgun" up close. However, since we shared Canterlot with the elite unicorn ponies, sometimes a mare would walk by that was so stunning, so refined, so incomparably female, that even the coarsest of us couldn't manage a single word as we watched her pass. There I stood in the vicinity of such a pony, trying my hardest to stay standing up.
She started circling me like a shark, eying me down. Once she had her fill she moved in and brushed against me, flicking my chin with her tail as she turned away. This provoked several feelings in me, some I am not proud of, but the one unanimously overpowering feeling I got was pure, cold, fear. Had I not been wearing cotton padding on my legs, my knees would have knocked so loudly it would have sounded like someone dropped a box of skeletons down a hundred flights of stairs.
"You ARE a hunter, are you not?" She circled me some more, and I felt her eyes examining every inch of me. "Your rippling muscles, the way you carry yourself... Yes, I'm afraid it gives you away quite easily, darling. I heard of your arrival a few days ago from my lovely assistant and have been looking for you - busy as I am - to no avail. Good heavens, dear, I simply cannot imagine how you've managed to hide from me for so long... It's not polite to keep a lady waiting."
She drew in closer. "I've let so many of you sift right through my hooves; this time - make no mistake - I will not let you escape so easily. All you hunters share the same dreadfully irresistible traits. That die hard determination in your body, that pure bull-headed intellect, and your dripping stallion pheromones that just..."
The white pony took a big whiff of the air. As close as she was to me it could feel her breath on my neck. She let out a big sigh, as if she enjoyed the sensation of it down to her core. However, near the end of her sigh something must have tickled her nose. Her angelic face made a very out of character expression of minor disgust before letting out a small sneeze.
I mean ok seriously lady, you just took in a noseful of a guy who legitimately can’t remember the last time he showered.
Turning to herself she mumbled something. "CANDY? Of all the ponies in the whole town to beat me to the punch! Blast you, Pinkie Pie." Or at least I think that’s what she said.
She turned back to me and straightened herself up. For some reason the aura of tension that froze me in place completely dissipated. She was still strikingly beautiful, no doubt about it, but she didn't seem like the voracious predator she resembled just a few moments ago.
"Oh, dear, I do apologize, darling. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Lady Rarity, fashion designer extraordinaire, and friend to all potential patrons of this humble boutique."
You know, as I write this down, I can't shake the feeling that Rarity might have been hinting at something. I've never been one to tell what goes on in the minds of women, but something in the back of my mind tells me there was something going on that I really should have caught but just can’t quite get yet. I'll have to keep my eye out, I seriously don't want to jump to conclusions and recreate high school all over again.
Anyway, I somehow managed to introduce myself as PS, a good start for once, and I explained how I needed Mr. Cake's old armor refitted to my size. I carefully removed the armor from the box, making sure not to stab myself with the spikes which were everywhere.
Rarity's horn started glowing and the entire armor set started floating in the air. I just barely noticed she was a unicorn. I don’t know what to think about that yet, to be honest. We hunters see unicorns as the ponies that got life handed to them on a silver plate. Sure, even though I can't use magic I can understand that magic isn't easy to do and requires hard work and dedication, but come on, it’s magic! I was trying to not kill myself handling that armor and she can just whip it up into the air and dance it around as she pleases. 
She looked at it, spun it around, even placed it up close to me to see how it would look. Eventually though she just shook her head and slumped the whole thing on top of her work desk.
"Ah yes, this armor; I remember this armor. Doesn't look like it got much use; of course seeing as it did belong to Mr. Cake that doesn't exactly come as a surprise now does it, darling? Honestly, whatever was I thinking? The spikes, the leather, ugh, these purposely torn jeans? No, no, no. This is all wrong. It's amateur work."
With just a swing of her horn the armor was once again in the air. I saw it come apart. I saw it and i still don't believe it. The armor dismantled itself in the most meticulous and organized fashion conceivable. Rivets were undone as if they were never sealed. Leather unbound as if it was never fastened. All the steel plates just simply fell out of their sockets and flattened themselves into a neat little pile. The gauntlet mechanisms just exploded outward like a mechanical blueprint. You could see every individual spring and gear just suspended in the air. Armor was supposed to be the solid wall we hid behind, our foundation we placed all trust in, and i just saw a unicorn tear it to pieces like a wet paper bag.
"I'll use these materials to make a new set; something that more suitably matches your look, darling. For the moment, could you be a dear and give me a hand by cranking that big wheel over there?"
There was a big wooden wheel against the wall. I almost didn't see it because of all the mannequins and rolls of fabric placed around it, obviously placed there to hide it in plain sight. After seeing such a display of power I was in no position to challenge her request. I pushed some of the objects to the side and grabbed on to the lever sticking out of the wheel and started to turn it. The initial turn was difficult, it seemed stuck in place out of inactivity, but using all my brute strength I managed to get it turning. Familiar creaks and groans started echoing through the boutique. This place must have been made out of the same stuff as the Gathering Hall because the inside was transforming just the same.
The outer wall was spinning around. No doubt on the outside it would look like an actual carousel spinning, but on the inside the spinning was causing the inner layer of the wall to sink into the ground. Dusty red brick was exposed behind it, with hanging tools dangling from its coarse surface. The center of the circular house opened up, and a giant furnace rose spiraling from underground. It was already burning with red hot coals being fed air with a bellows. The entire room immediately got several dozen degrees hotter, and as the furnace spun around, whenever the open end pointed in my direction i could feel the intense heat shoot out and threaten to burn my eyebrows off. Most of the common furniture was gone by now, either sunken into the ground or raised high above; the only things that remained were the furnace, a giant anvil, and several other devices i couldn't identify. Eventually the wheel refused to turn, signaling the end of the transformation.
Rarity herself had transformed. Her long flowing mane and tail were braided and tied into a bun; her beautiful eyes now hiding behind thick goggles. A thick leather apron covered her body. Floating all around her were knives, pliers, glowing hot iron rods, all sorts of vicious looking tools, and she was laughing maniacally during the whole process.
That is, until she realized i was still in the room.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hunter, but I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to leave. Nothing personal, I just can’t have people around the fire while I work - safety reasons and all that - and besides, the next few hours would be dreadfully boring for someone not into this sort of thing. I'll have your armor ready in a moment, in the meantime please feel free to take that bundle of clothing by the door. A proper stallion must look sharp for a funeral, those silly cotton mittens simply won’t do."
How she knew a funeral was in my list of things to do today is anyone's guess. It must have been more insider information from her "assistant." Still, I wasn't about to turn down a free suit. It was a dress suit, by the way, a very fancy dress suit; exactly the kind you'd swear to a funeral. It was tailored to my size as well. She was good. 
Rarity was already hammering away at something so I just excused myself and let her be. Outside the Carousel Boutiqe there was quite the spectacle. Fire and smoke spewed from the very top of the building and the entire roof was spinning slowly. That's actually very convenient for me. If I see the building moving it probably means she's busy. I'll just have to keep an eye out for the smoke to clear before coming back for my new armor set.
"Oh and before I forget," Rarity yelled out to me through a window, "I'll have my assistant bring over your weapon as well. Can't complete an ensemble without decent accessories, I always say!"
You know, it never occurred to me to ask how much all this is going to cost me. I assume she'd have some sort of tab open for the town hunter. I'll pay her once I've actually hunted something, hopefully. Maybe she's just incredibly generous?
A quick change and much needed shower back at the Gathering Hall and I was ready to hit the town in my new penguin costume. The invitation said "Sweet Apple Acres," which I was told was the farm outside of town. Walking there in this fancy new getup was difficult. I’m used to heavy and cumbersome armor that severely limits my movement and range of motion, much like a tuxedo would, but this suit was just so nice I wouldn't dare get it dirty. You could imagine how upset I was once the paved road ended and there was nothing but a dusty trail left.
Eventually I arrived at the Sweet Apple Acres farm. There was a big, tough looking red pony pointing guests to the funeral service. It was a pretty large gathering of black tuxedos and dresses, at least half the town had to have been there. A single, slightly over-sized coffin was suspended above the six foot hole in the center of the crowd, and ponies would take turns walking up to it, leaving something on its surface; little mementos like flowers or empty bottles of milk. 
This probably was the resting place of "Ms. Betsy." Even though she was just a cow in a herd to me, judging by the way the funeral took place, she probably meant much more to the town than just being another milk machine. She died of a monster attack? Who could I ask? Would it be impossibly rude? The frustration of not knowing what happened was killing me!
Ok bad choice of words.
Standing to the side of the coffin was the Priest, clearly identified by his cross shaped cutie mark and clergyman's collar, and what looked like a small, vibrantly colored pony family. There was a little yellow filly with a large bright red bow which stuck out from the black color of her dress. She was confused and slightly scared. Her eyes would dart around at the crowd of people, at the gifts and the coffin, and back at her family. This probably was her first funeral. I couldn't imagine how difficult it would be for your first funeral to be one of somebody you knew. My first funeral was of some old pony I didn't care about. I remember sitting on the grass hoping it would end quickly so I could go play. I must have been a terrible kid.
There was a young mare standing behind her, orange with the blondest mane in the crowd. She was wearing a black getup, but it wasn't a dress; just a typical work vest and some boots, and a cowboy hat. Wearing a hat during a funeral would probably be rude, or not, I'm not quite sure on the etiquette here. One thing was for certain, that pony was fuming mad. I could see it in her eyes. They were welling up with tears as she looked at the coffin, her body shaking with frustration. She would look away to calm down but if her gaze crossed the coffin she couldn't help but make a pained, angry expression.
There was a very old mare there too, green and wrinkled, with the grayest hair in the gathering. She looked the most depressed of them all. I'd imagine at that age, death would be a difficult subject to deal with, especially the deaths of the young, and especially the death of someone you knew.
I saw the red stallion at the entrance to the farm approach the family. He was probably the last member. He looked like a dependable type, and judging by the way he took charge of leading the arriving guests he's probably not one to let emotions cloud his judgment. He still looked a bit depressed, but so did absolutely everyone else here. Our eyes met, and he furrowed his brow at my unrecognized face. I nodded a greeting though, to try to get his suspicions down and I turned to the pony beside me to start a small conversation, just to break eye contact.
I didn't get enough words in though before the priest started the funeral service. It was sad, it was respectful, it covered all the great things in Ms. Betsy's life that I was completely unaware of. She was the most accomplished milk cow in the region, let alone the farm. Practically a mother to everyone, her comfort and support reached out to every member in Ponyville. Even in her final moments she died protecting the other cows. This was wrenching my gut into a little tiny ball. According to the priest, the monsters had attacked yesterday night, wounding several cows, but Betsy fought them off before collapsing from her own injuries. She died slowly as the family by the coffin, the Apple family, tried to save her.
That was depressing, in its own right, but what really got me was the fact that all this happened while I was away on my pathetic hunt. Had I just waited one more day, had I just hung around town to get to know the place better, I definitely would have been able to save her. I would have been able to fight the monsters and save the day. 
The way the priest described the monsters wasn't helping, either. He called them "vile lizards" and "blue devils" as he cursed their cruel intentions. Chances were the very same pack of velociprey that I ran from earlier in the day decided to take the hunt to less cowardly prey. I might have just provoked them into attacking the farm by kicking the veritable hornet's nest. In essence, this could very well be my fault entirely. Thanks to my sheer incompetence, I've managed to personally murder a beloved member of this town.
This service was making me ill. I felt like throwing up. Putting a hoof up to my face made me realize I had been crying. What kind of monster was I? This death wasn’t even the monster's fault. It was MINE. As the final words were spoken, and the coffin slowly lowered down into the grave, the priest began to sing a hymn. The whole pony congregation chimed in, their depressed tones made the song sound low and eerie. This was too much for me. Everyone's heart was broken here, and I could not bear to stand among all this pain I had caused. I withdrew to a close by apple tree. Leaning up against it i took a deep breath, trying to regain my composure, but as I exhaled I couldn't help but accidentally release a few sobs. The invitation was still in my vest pocket. I could feel it burn a hole through my skin and threaten to rip out my heart. I saw what Opalescence meant by giving it to me as a reward for my failed hunt.
From that distance I saw the group disperse. In pairs or groups, sometimes just alone, they all headed back towards Ponyville. The service was over, and the only remaining ponies by the pile of freshly placed dirt were the oldest and the youngest of the apple family, holding each other as they stared at the tombstone. I saw the orange pony arguing with the red one off at the distance by the barn. They weren't close, but the argument was so heated I didn't have to move to be able to hear them.
"WHAT DO YA MEAN I CAN'T?! THAT MR. CAKE IS NOTHING BUT A CUD MUNCHING COWARD, HE WOULDN'T HELP US EVEN IF WE BEGGED." shouted the orange one. She was literally tearing off her black clothing as she stormed around in circles.
The red one was calm, and spoke too quietly for me to hear, but it looked like he was trying to explain a situation to her.
"THEY'LL DO FINE; APPLEBLOOM AND GRANNY CAN KEEP THEIR BANDAGES FRESH, THEY AINT HURT TOO BADLY. IM NOT WORRIED ABOUT THEM. IT’S THE LIZARDS! SOMEPONY'S GOTTA DO SOMETHING ABOUT THOSE VARMINTS!"
Again, it was the red stallion's turn to speak. Even with the tempers where they were, he was calm and rational, and surprisingly the orange pony didn't yell over him until after he was done talking.
"LISTEN, BIG MAC, I'M HUNTING THOSE MONSTERS IF YOU'RE COMING OR NOT!"
I had heard enough. Someone already died because of me. There was no way I was going to let that happen again. These monsters were not going to be hunted easily. It was MY job to hunt them; even though I failed the first time. 

If anyone is supposed to go into the forest and be eaten alive by velociprey, it would be ME. 

I wiped my eyes to make sure I didn't have any tears and started running to where they were. As I got near, I got within earshot of the stallion, Mr. "Big" Mac, I assumed.
"I know it aint right, Applejack, but we can't just let ourselves get caught up with revenge. Going out there would just make things worse. We don't know how to hunt that many of 'em, we don't even have the proper tools. The last thing I want is to have to dig another grave, especially one for you."
Applejack was about to start yelling again, but she saw me and swallowed her words. Big Mr. Redpony turned to me and we confronted each other again. In a crowd he wasn't so tough but one on one he made me feel like I was staring down a bull.
"Excuse me, Mister. I don't believe we have met. I certainly don’t recognize you from the townsfolk. This is a bit of a private situation within the family, I don't want to sound rude but... please leave."
He could have been a thousand foot high brick wall and not have been as imposing. Still, my mind was set and I was going to break through that wall no matter what.
"My name is PS. You don't recognize me because I am not from around here. My visit here is official business." I swallowed a big gulp of bravery in preparation for my next line. "I am a Monster Hunter."
Suddenly, Mr. Bull stallion wasn't so big. His eyes were opened wide in surprise and disbelief. From behind him, the orange pony, Ms. Applejack, walked up to me, also with a surprised look on her face.
I thought about trying to justify myself to her. I thought about talking reasonably to her and explaining the situation; how that particular hunt is too dangerous for even trained professionals. I thought about it, sure, but I didn't get a chance to say anything. 
Before I could even react a hoof was headed straight to my face at an incredible speed. It decked me clear across the jaw. This wasn't just a "Why, I NEVER" slap from an offended high-society woman in some old fashioned black and white pony movie. This was a full-fledged haymaker punch from strongest pony in town. All it took was a single shot and I was down for the count.
Back at the training academy we would take pain and endurance "tests." To simulate the whip of a dragon's tail or body check of a giant monster we would stand blindfolded on an X painted on the floor as a wooden log was released. That log was tied with rope to a platform above us, causing it to swing like a pendulum straight into our unsuspecting bodies. We'd take the full brunt of the hit right at the base of the swing, and as expected, we would get injured severely. This built trust, taught us the inevitable dangers of our job, and just generally toughened us up to take more hits than a normal pony. Let’s just say Applejack's punch bought back intense feelings of nostalgia, among other things.
There actually was a big "How dare you" speech. Something about showing my cowardly face at the wrong time in the wrong place. I might have heard several obscene names tossed around, probably directed at me. A bunch of accusations probably took place as well. To be perfectly honest, getting my clock cleaned that hard really didn't give me a chance to concentrate on whatever that pony was talking about. Big Mac was holding her back as she pushed and screamed at me, the exertion and rush of emotions finally getting the best of her as she broke down into tears.
Once I got back up from the dirt and checked to see if my jaw was still in place, I tried to reason with the pair. One's a sobbing mess, but the other's bound to at least give me the time of day. All I needed to do was figure out a way to let the duty of hunting the monsters fall on my shoulder and somehow make it seem like it wasn't my fault to begin with. They couldn't possibly know, could they?
"I understand these monsters definitely need to be hunted. They are a danger to everyone now more than ever. I know you have personal reasons to hate me and the monsters, but please, listen. I am trained to fight them, and I regret not being here earlier to stop them. I need to make this right, so please, let me do the hunting. It's too dangerous for normal ponies."
"Normal ponies?" Applejack sure recovered quickly. Being weak and emotional was clearly not something she was used to and got over it surprisingly fast. "We ain't exactly what you'd call 'normal ponies.'"
Her chest puffed up as she stood up and grabbed Big Mac by the neck in some sort of hoof lock. She was trying to be tough to offset that little bout of tears she just went through.
"Mister, we're the defenders of this farm. Big Mac and I have fought back all sorts of wild animals. Wolves, bears, coyotes; you name it; we've probably kicked them in the head. Me and my brother don't need no outsider help. We're gonna hunt these things ourselves, ain't that right, Big Mac?"
Big Mac lifted his giant yoke-burdened neck up in the air and looked to the sky. He gave out a deep sigh as his head dropped down again. He uttered but a single word.
"Nope."
This didn't sit well with Applejack, apparently. Once again applejack started loudly voicing her arguments. They made sense, in a way. Monsters attacked and killed a member of the farm, and must be hunted before they can attack again. As long as they stay undisturbed they pose an imminent threat to everyone. Being smarter than normal beasts, they will not fall into traps or attack at predictable hours, meaning the only viable way to stop them is to bring the fight to their turf.
However, whenever it was Big Mac's turn, he spoke with such wisdom that I could have sworn he was quoting straight from our lectures back in the academy. The monsters attacked because they were desperate. They are not from here and do not find peace in pony civilization, obviously they have been displaced. They are only doing what comes naturally to them. Besides, even though it resulted in several injuries and a death, their attack on the farm was largely unsuccessful, making them even more desperate right now.
The two kept at it; Applejack's hot-blooded thirst for revenge vs. Big Mac's calm rationalization. The argument really was going nowhere. Applejack was hell-bent on making her brother hunt with her, and he was the immovable mountain that could not be swayed by even the loudest winds. Oh, also there was me, standing off to the side, you know, the ACTUAL hunter, the only guy who SHOULD hunt, completely unable to get even a word in.
I cleared my throat and demanded attention. My extreme hunter training did not cover how do deal with domestic situations, but with a bright idea in my head I decided to just run with it.
"Applejack, if you want to hunt the monsters so badly, then you can tag along in MY hunt."
"YOUR hunt?" she was so apprehensive, seriously.  "Whoever said it was going to be YOUR hunt?"
Even though she was still very confrontational, I could tell this conversation was going in the right direction. The idea was to trick her into agreeing to hunt with me at a set time, but do it earlier and hopefully spare this town another funeral. I had no choice but to get as serious as I possibly could to fool her into following me.
"I have the armor, I have the weapons, I have the tools, I have the full authority of the Canterlot Hunter Guild, and as the Guild Hall leader of Ponyville, I have already requested, evaluated, and approved the Hunting contract, which was immediately assigned to me. It is MY hunt."
"I'll tell you what, hotshot." Applejack responded, "You sound like you might know what you're doing. I've had enough fights with my brother to know when I'm beat..." Looking over to Big Mac he just nodded his head and let out an "Eeyup." 	And right now, for Betsy's sake, I'm willing to side with the devil himself just to skin those lizards alive. So, Mr. Hunter - PS, was it? - what exactly do you suggest we do?"
No matter what I said from that point onward, she was clearly the person railroading the conversation. I managed to get a hunt organized for her, but she chose the time. The hunt would take place as early as possible tomorrow. She confessed she didn't have a weapon, but said she'd just take one of mine, somehow assuming I had any weapons at all. She also decided she would follow me to the Gathering Hall to prepare for the hunt and to spend the night, which totally blew a hole in my plan. I swear she read my mind. Why else would she have decided to just stick by me to make sure I don’t sneak out and hunt without her?
Before we left to the hall, Big Mac withdrew to the barn and procured a set of armor. This was the final nail in the coffin. There was no way I could keep her away now. Applejack showed me the armor, as she called it her "pride and joy." 
It was full contact sports armor complete with pony football helmet, which made me cringe a bit at the absurdity. My immediate thought was how sports gear would not be adequate for hunting, but this particular armor was actually very well made. I could see the reinforcements of the sports plating and how some parts were extended to fully protect vital organs. The boots themselves were only made to resemble sports cleats; they were actually full-fledged combat boots with enough padding and armor to adequately protect a pony's legs. The sporty design probably helped with mobility better than a traditional armor shape, as well.
The armor material itself looked like it was made out of a crab shell, with its distinct red color and little organic bumps giving the defensive plates that unmistakable texture. One could only imagine the actual size of the crab in question. The armor was thick and looked durable enough; I'd imagine the biological nature of the plates would give it lighter and more flexible properties while still holding up to the durability of steel. White stripes ran through the armor, giving it a nice contrast to the red lobster color and accentuating the several unique parts of the armor, such as the overlapping chest plates which really did look like a football player's favorite suit. That armor was made by a professional, using parts from some sort of carapaceon monster, somehow made to look like normal sports gear. Was this Rarity's handywork? I really hoped it was.
Had I known Applejack owned armor this nice, I wouldn't have had any problems letting her join me. She looked competent enough, and if she really has fought off wild animals while protecting the farm, she'd be experienced enough to qualify for a temporary deputizing. At that point it looked like I would have to abandon Plan A and move on to Plan B, which involved not lying to everyone I knew and actually hunting with Applejack.
We took off towards the Gathering Hall. Applejack asked me several questions about the academy during the walk to break the ice. They were actually very specific questions, probably to find out if i really was a hunter or if I was just pretending. Fortunately, none of her personal questions actually involved my real name or cutie mark, so I gladly answered them all. In turn, I asked her about her own experience. She's taken down bullfangos and chased off a kutku once. That's already more actual hunts than me, not including that time she wrestled a bear and twisted the horns off a charging bull.
We stopped by Rarity's crazy boutique but nobody was home. A quick peek inside through a window revealed the boutique in its original condition. If I hadn't experienced the metamorphosis of my own home I would have thought the blacksmith boutique just a dream. Applejack reassured me that Rarity would not just stop working on something and my armor would be finished in time for the hunt tomorrow.
A few blocks more and we arrived back at my Hall. This place is a Gathering Hall meant to be a mass group lounge for every hunter in the area, but I was living in it, sleeping in it for three days now, and it really felt like it was my own house. As such it was also unsettling having someone just barge into my house and start treating the place like some sort of public lounge. Applejack really made herself at home.
"I can’t believe this Gathering Hall has always been here. Look at all them trophies up on the wall. You reckon they're the trophies of hunters way back in the day? They sure aren't the trophies of Mr. Cake, I’ll tell you what." Applejack spotted a big display piece missing from the wall. "Still could use a bit more decoratin' though."
Applejack jumped behind the counter of the bar. She looked around for a bit but immediately found all the bottles of juice and cider, all the large mugs, she even figured out how to work the tap. I spent most of my first night here getting that to work and she poured herself the foamiest aged cider possible without even trying.
"You look so out of place here, fella. A city boy like you hanging out in a place like this? Your tux isn’t helping, either."
I was still wearing my tuxedo, but without armor to cover my cutie mark I’d rather just keep it that way. It’s not like there’s even anyplace to change while someone is watching around here, I'd have to duck behind a table or something and that would make me look crazy. I am not crazy.
Applejack continued to defile the sanctity of my house. She probably didn't mean it. She probably didn't even realize this Gathering Hall was my own private room. I could tell she still didn't trust me though, it might look like she was distracted with her drink or admiring the surroundings, but she'd always have at least one eye on me. Instead of just standing around in a tuxedo while Applejack made a mess of things, I decided to grab one of the many maps lying around and start planning the hunt.
I made the mistake last time of not even looking at a map; I was not going to make that mistake again. I quickly found several familiar landmarks. The clearing where I got ambushed was just a short distance from the little cottage I started at. From there, I tried to find the nearest cliff. The only such cliff was facing toward the clearing, meaning in my frantic escape not only did I start running in the wrong direction, but I had to have ran for miles in a big circle in order to go around and up the hill that would eventually lead to the cliff. What was worse was that one half of the cliff was technically in the Everfree Forest, so unless I took the longer way around, there’s a good chance I was in the Everfree for a bit longer than i should have been.
I figured the hunt could start back at the yellow pony's house, follow my tracks up to where I got ambushed, eventually find the tracks that lead to the nest, and well, play it by ear. With a big red marker I outlined our plan of attack and called Applejack over for a quick briefing.
"Here's where we're gonna start. Heading into the forest, we might be able to catch..."
"Hey that there's Fluttershy's house!" Applejack interrupted. "We're not starting there. Out by the pastures is where the monsters attacked; I figure we just start tracking them from there. What makes you think starting out at Fluttershy's house is better than following them from the farm?"
"No, see, uh..." Crap! I had forgotten to keep the previous hunt a secret! How was I going to bluff my way out of that? "Velociprey do not hunt where they live. If we start at their hunting grounds, we might waste a whole day looking for monsters that won't even be there. It's better to start at a landmark and work our way into the forest instead. This house I've definitely never seen before is far enough out of the town to serve as a good starting location."
"Hmmm..." Applejack thought about it for a bit. "I guess you might be right. I mean, no point in arguing with someone who actually went to school for this. It's been a while since I've visited Fluttershy, too. I'll get two birds with one stone this way, I guess."
Applejack trotted over to my bed and slumped on it, managing to spill a bit of her drink all over the place. Did she even realize it was my bed? The thing I'm supposed to use to sleep on?
"You know, this place isn't half bad. It sure looks like someplace hunters would hang out, and you sound like you know what you are doing." Applejack was sounding a whole lot more friendlily than before. "We might have started off on the wrong hoof here."
She sat up on my bed and held out her hoof for me to shake it. "My name's Applejack, nice to meet you."
It would be rude to just leave her hanging, so I put down the map and started walking toward her.
One of the wall panels near the bed started to buckle. It started to thump and shake and rattle loudly. The sudden noise surprised me but this room doing strange things on its own wasn't exactly something new. After a few more thumps the wall opened up like a doorway and two ponies poured out in a ball.
It was Pinkie Pie and Rarity. Rarity quickly picked herself off the floor, dusted off and straightened her hair, but pinkie lay there a bit longer giggling to herself. How long were they hiding behind the wall?
"That's far enough, PS." exclaimed Rarity. "Quite frankly I am dreadfully disappointed in you. A real hunter would have at least taken a lady out to dinner first."
I was at a loss for words. I didn't know what was going on, or what I was being accused of at least.
"Just what in tarnation is going on?" Applejack seemed to be just as confused as I was. "What are y'all doing here?"
Pinkie Pie chimed in. "No, what are YOU doing here. We were here first. Or, well, I was here first but then Rarity started snooping around."
"Pinkie Pie, why I never! I simply passed by to drop off PS's new armor and sword. Seeing as nobody was home I let myself in just to make sure the items got delivered properly. I most definitely was NOT snooping around."
"Oh yeah, then explain why you were looking around his..."
Rarity held up a hoof to Pinkie's mouth to quickly silence her.
"Could y'all quit your bickering and explain to me why both of ya thought it was a good idea to spy on us? Why are you upset about us even being here anyway?" It seemed like if Applejack ever got confused, anger was an emotion that closely followed.
"Oh yeah, you're one to talk, Ms. Come Hither. You've been in PS's room ten minutes and you're already asking him to come to bed."
"Wait... who did wha... WHAT!"
One by one all the puzzle pieces fell into place: Me, a city boy in a fancy suit, Applejack, the naive country girl, a glass of cider, my room. Oh man that did not look good at all.
All eyes turned to me. Rarity looked very disappointed in me, Applejack was furious, and Pinkie Pie was making this strange pouty face. All three of them were approaching me menacingly, demanding an explanation.
Using my entire mental prowess, my razor sharp wit, and lighting fast reflexes, I put all my chips into one single gesture that would hopefully save me from the incoming storm. It was a single body motion that explained in detail how Applejack forced her way in here, how it was her idea to barge into my room, how nothing bad was planned, how nobody was trying to take advantage of anyone, how all of this would be easily straightened out with a cool headed discussion.
Unfortunately, that body gesture looked REALLY similar to a shrug. A confused, guilty-looking shrug.
I am not too sure what happened after that, it all happened so fast. All I can figure out is that it’s getting really dark, my head hurts, and the door to the Gathering Hall is locked. Here I am currently sitting outside in the lawn. I can hear the three girls inside talking, and I am pretty sure Pinkie Pie just yelled out, "Sleepover!"
A moment ago they were kind enough to toss me a pillow. Unfortunately the pillow was just my new armor in a white blanket, and it was more of a deliberate throw rather than a toss. They also threw me my sword. It’s lodged in a tree at the moment; I am in no hurry to claim it right now.
Looks like I’m spending the night out here then. Hopefully things will be better tomorrow.
--
PS rested against a tree in the backyard of the Sugarcube Corner. He had already changed into his new armor, using the cover of the night to make sure nobody got a good look at his cutie mark. Rarity really outdid herself making that armor. The whole thing resembled a very strange Wild West cowboy outfit. The vest and hat was a muddy orange with spots, the color of the leather obviously coming from the skin of a famous western Wroggi, a monster similar to Equestria’s native lizards. A few years ago when they cleaned out Appaloosa these skins were so common they usually traded at 5 bits each, it wasn’t a surprise Rarity would have enough left over to make a free suit.
The hat was a bit larger than normal, and its pointy tips made it look distinctly different from a normal cowboy hat. The getup had little leathery frills on the gauntlets and boots, brown chaps worked like the typical hunter belt holding up all the necessary pouches and gear, and a pair of spurs stuck out from the back of the orange boots. What would a pony need with spurs? The whole thing really looked like a mess, but a very thick poncho tied it up very well, making PS look like a mysterious lone adventurer type.
At first, PS was skeptical about the armor. He had seen the movies about western sheriffs wearing the exact same thing, shooting up buffalo and riding off into the sunset. The whole idea was ridiculous to him. However, as soon as PS put on the armor he realized that looks were very deceiving. The jacket was heavily reinforced with thick, heavy plates of metal. The boots had guards all the way up to the knees, ending in solid steel kneecaps. The edges of the vest had a ring of steel supporting it, and the stupid looking hat was actually a complete steel helmet that just looked like a leather hat. The whole setup not only provided maximum protection, it actually made the outfit look sharper than possible with just cloth and starch. 
It was also very comfortable. There were leg gussets and several points of articulation that gave PS an almost complete range of motion. He started to trot around for a bit and noticed not a single problem with any of the joints or hinges. Everything bent and folded with him, being as solid as possible but so smooth it felt like he was wearing cloth. PS felt like a completely new pony in that armor. Something this good had never happened to him his whole life. He might have been thrown out of his own home a few minutes ago, but at that particular point in time he was the happiest pony in the world.
As he bounced around to test out the weight of his new armor, PS was approached by a small figure. The night sky kept PS from noticing until the little round shadow called out to him.
"Uh... are you ok? Why are you jumping around? You almost knocked something over, Twi"
The voice startled PS. He looked around and found the source, which surprised him even more. It was a very young dragon. It was not just an average baby wyvern, standing in front of him was a true to life real baby dragon. The kind not even hunters dare to fight, albeit he was still very early in the development stages. Although PS had never seen a live dragon up close, even just a baby one, he recognized the dragon’s voice and knew his name. It was "Spike."
"Hello, Spike. I mean you no harm. Let's be friends." PS gave him a respectable greeting. His weapon was still lodged in a tree, hunting this baby dragon would not be possible, and besides, he's still a baby, there’s absolutely no sport in that.
"Yeah, hi, whatever." Spike looked like he had something on his mind. "Listen, Twilight. I was looking up the ingredients you used on that potion, you know, to see if there were any other potions that used baby dragon hearts. Turns out other than that magical stuff you added at the end, most of the ingredients you used make up a well-known Hunter potion that lets you see through the eyes of a large monster!"
Spike held out a large tome of magical potions. PS had never seen such a book, but at the same time he recalled having read it several times. This was getting confusing. To make matters worse, PS suddenly realized he was inside a building. Wasn't he outside just a few moments ago? There were books strewn about all over the floor, and shelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books. When did he stumble into the library?
"It says here the potion called 'Psychoserum' can be easily made by any hunter. The hunter that is more familiar with the surroundings takes a drink and for a few seconds gains the ability to see what a monster sees. It’s up to the hunter to then deduce where the monster currently is and mark it on a map once the potion wears off, either to hunt it or to avoid the monster."
PS had heard of Psychoserums before, but it seemed this generation of hunting instructors preferred teaching a hunter how to track and chase a monster rather than just drinking some magical drink to find it. He shared the sentiment. Psychoserums are cheating, plain and simple, and PS would rather just not go hunting than use a serum.
"So when you took some of that super psychoserum, did you see anything? I'd imagine..."
Twilight shook her head. Of course she saw something, but there's no way she's telling anyone about it, or how she had been hallucinating the past few minutes. It seems like the side effects of the potion were a little more serious than she had predicted. Looking down at the journal she noticed it was closed. Was she even reading it at all?
Looking around the end of the entry, Twilight noticed that there was no actual description of PS' new armor. He merely mentioned how he got it, never actually wrote how it looked like. However, Twilight still had the vivid experience of actually seeing the completed armor and even the sensation of how it felt worn.
This was seriously bad. If she can't trust her own observations then why should she continue reading? It could all be a figment of her imagination!
No. Twilight skimmed through the page. Even though the last few minutes weren't real, the rest was. There it was, written down word for word, exactly as she remembered reading. She just really needed to get a grip on when the reading stops and real life starts up again, is all. Nothing too bad, definitely not enough to make her stop now.
Spike left Twilight to continue reading. He had other things to do, and besides, the whole house smelled terrible. He could swear Twilight could read a book in the middle of a fire and not notice the heat.
Picking up where she left off, Twilight continued: