It was calming.
The soft ticking that kept the time of the day, marking the passing seconds, winding the large sniper rifle that was more or less invisible to onlookers behind the cover of leaves. The pulsing rhythm was louder than the owner would have liked, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It had yet to get him noticed, and more often than not it would be the last thing his enemies heard, only aware of the sound after it was no longer there. The void drawing more attention than the sound that had been there.
His breath was the only other noise, much quieter than the clock-like beat that held the air. The inhales and exhales were loud in his ears, but it had always been during this work. It told him his heart rate, his general health, it kept him focused, and it told him when he was about to shoot someone. But he usually knew that last one before he pulled the trigger.
The scope portrayed the scene below vividly, a master work of long range sight that the man had put great pride in, far more than what it was attached to anyway. A wolf made of discarded tree branches pursued it’s prey, a horse of some sort, multi-colored, screaming. He had seen them quite a bit since his arrival in this strange place, they seemed to be the dominant species, given their intelligence, their towns, and their societies in general.
Of course, the man hadn’t bothered to approach any of them. He knew immediately he would be unwelcome here, he could feel it in the air, in his bones. He was unwelcome by the very air and dirt, an alien hated by every manner of object that called this odd place home. Except for here, in this forest. A place considered chaotic by the inhabitants, taboo if nothing else. And it fit him like a glove.
He watched the chase coldly from behind his weapon of judgement. Following the duo in their relentless pursuit through the trees. The wolf was closing the distance, slowly. He traced the action, not too engaged by the outcome but knowing full well he would save the pony should she need it. Well, he assumed it was a she, it seemed a safe bet judging by the build.
Then she tripped and the wolf pounced immediately, it sailed high through the air, allowing the pony enough time to spin and look up at her attacker. A muscle reflex shot through the sniper. The man watched through his scope as the beast was taken out by his well aimed headshot, but more intently he watched as the pony’s expression changed from fear to confusion.
The ticking had stopped, but he doubted that she noticed, given her hectic run only moments ago. He pulled back the bolt action and locked the next bullet in place, knowing that there may be other of the monsters nearby, he had a few moments of residual energy still, perhaps a second shot would scare away a group if they attacked, if not... well...
The monsters of timber seemed to hunt in packs on some days, but he didn’t know what circumstances caused the camaraderie, and he wished he did. It would have been very helpful a few nights ago when he had abandoned his old camp at the sight of one of the creatures, knowing he could take down one but that a pack would tear him to shreds.
He watched as she stood, limping slightly on one of her legs. Probably just a pulled muscle, a break seemed unlikely. She struggled on through the woods, but her manic random glances at her surroundings told a much more interesting story than her limb did. Two stories in fact, one of fear at what had killed the timber wolf, and one of grim curiosity, of if her savior had merely wanted the kill for itself. She met a line of thick shrubbery and pushed past the brush that blocked her path. As it swung back into place behind her she disappeared from the man’s sight. He admired her determination that kept her going on a sprain, or perhaps the adrenaline was still dulling the pain.
Without a sound he rose from his overlook and slung his sniper rifle across his back. He had done his job, the job that no one knew he did, what more could he be expected to accomplish? He began to walk away from his position but sighed instead, knowing full well the answer to the question he had asked himself.
She had been heading away from the town.
He turned around, facing the direction she had gone off in, and began to follow. He slid down the incline that had been his observation post. He moved silently through the trees and the brush, as silent as the wolf that he had killed. It had taken time to learn the stealth of his hunters, of course, but he prided himself on being a quick learner. So it hadn't taken too long before he had found out how to go undetected in this place, an easier process than it might have been if he were in his casual clothing, but luckily he had been wearing his skin tight, war front outfit when he had woken up here, something that was still unexplained.
He tracked her, following the hoof prints in the grass, gaining on her slowly. She had seemed aware of the direction she was going, but that didn’t mean she was going to make it wherever she intended to go. Not alive, anyway. And aside from 'away from town' he couldn't think of anywhere else she intended to wind up.
The sniper rifle began to tick softly, a sign that the firing mechanism was ready for a low velocity shot. Close range combat, if he felt like playing suicide. Everything here had evolved to ambush you from around a corner, meaning they were built to tear apart everything close enough to their mouth. He had always done his best to pick off his foes at medium or long range, eliminating their advantage easily and quickly.
To be fair though, it seemed to have worked for them splendidly until he came along. He tried to be modest, but his training allowed him some degree of self-esteem. As did the inventions he had assisted with, like the gun he now toted on his back. Between him and his equipment, he was fairly certain he was, at the very least, a force to be reckoned with in this forest.
The sun had fallen, he noticed when he skirted the edge of a clearing, time was always hard to determine in this thick forest. He suspected he would find the pony, or her corpse, soon enough, estimating that she had taken up refuge in a cave or clearing. Hopefully the former, as the latter would mean she would be dead before dawn. In a cave, she would at least last until her hosts awoke from their naps.
He peeked ahead and through a pair of bushes, causing a soft rustle to spill into the air. He spotted the pony fairly easily, he bright coat doing her no favors in her attempts to hide. She was hidden inside a hollowed out trunk, and the man couldn’t help but admire her intellect, given that there was a clearing not far away.
Her eyes and ears darted busily, hearing the noise he had made. He held perfectly still, both because he knew she wouldn't spot him, and also out of necessity. Even the best of eyes wouldn’t be able to pick him out among the twisted branches of his cover. Her panic was understandable, given her current situation, but he couldn’t quite wrap his head around what she was doing in this god forsaken forest in the first place. He knew not of any who came this far, even on the most calm of days.
The zebra was the most adventurous of all the explorers, but even she stuck to paths and known routes, and the yellow one barely went any farther in than the zebra’s hut. So, why then, had this pony come so far into the thick unknown that her and her kind obviously feared.
He watched her, and as she pulled a small pink animal from her saddlebags he was forced to repress a sad sigh. He saw it now, clear as day. Homesickness in her eyes and actions, regret and guilt, but blind stubbornness as well. A run away. She seemed a bit too old, but he had never been able to guess the age of the beings he watched on a regular basis, grey hair was the only constant when it came to their ages, beyond that was informed guessing.
She curled up with her toy, crying into it’s fur. “Oh Mister Fuzzy” She whispered, “What have I done?”
A quick scan of the area told the man immediately that it was in a shift between the daytime predators and the night time predators, meaning this was the safest part of the day. He stood from the bushes, his movement immediately catching the attention of the pony. He held his hands up to show he meant no harm, but the pony still tried to push herself deeper into the tree trunk, not that he could blame her.
“I can offer you safe passage home.” He said. There had probably been a way to do this without giving a description of his form to a pony, but he had stopped caring about that particular secret a while back. She looked at him, wary, confused, and foremost, hopeful.
“Why should I trust you?” She stated, glaring at him with squinted eyes.
“Because I could have easily let that wooden wolf tear you apart earlier? Or perhaps because I could have killed you at any point as you made your way through the forest, but didn’t? Just a few suggestions.” The man said. His words served a dual purpose, to reinforce a healthy fear in the pony so she wouldn’t try and attack him, and to show that he had helped her earlier.
Her eyes spiked with terror at the thoughts, widening until they were fully open. He allowed her her silent moment of horror and waited until she continued the conversation. She wasn’t going to go with him, not yet, but with some reassurance and a few more truthful answers he would be able to escort her out. The question that she asked, though, was not the one he had been expecting.
“Why did you kill the wolf instead of crippling it?” She asked. “I saw your skill, you could have busted its jaws, broke its leg, anything would have gotten to stop the pursuit, so why did you kill it?”
He thought about this for a while, a question he had never actually asked himself, it had been reactionary, in all truth, a habit that had grown on him during the time he served, but that was no excuse. If he truly wanted to change he could have by this point, so why did he continue to kill his targets with a well placed frontal lobotomy?
“I suppose...” He paused for a moment, knowing what he was about to say might very well scare the pony. “I kill threats because it’s calming.”
He anticipated fear, hesitancy, distrust. But the pony surprised him one more time that night when she came out of her shelter with a half-hearted grin. “Lead the way.”