“Halt!”
Clip-clop, clip-clop
“I said HALT!”
Clip-clop, clip…
The sun pounded the dusty road. A lone traveler, pulling a two-wheeled cart, slowed and stopped. The wind rustled the gorse. It was summer in the hills.
“Who’s there?” Her voice was steady, nearly careless. A wisp of purple tail and a curl of matching mane escaped the thick cloak she wore despite the clear, bright heat.
“We’re collecting tolls.” A thin, wicked-looking mare stepped out of the underbrush, leveling an arbalest in one hoof. The thick stock and stout arms declared it a true weapon; the type only an earth-pony could rack, enough to punch through strong armor or the average magic shield.
“Tolls?” The traveler cocked her head curiously, face hidden in her hood’s shadow. “I don’t have much.”
“‘Course you don’t.” A stallion appeared on the opposite side of the road. “But you won’t mind if mind if me and my sister look anyways.”
“I won’t?” She released the traces of her cart, and started walking toward the archer.
“No, you won’t.” The sister leveled her bow. “Now stop there.”
“Hmm.” The traveler paused. “Maybe I won’t.” She stepped forward again, walking up the shoulder.
“Halt! It’s your money or your life!” The mare looked suddenly uncomfortable, as the traveler paced evenly nearer. In the face of her confident steps, the arbalest was suddenly not enough protection.
“Money or life?” The cloaked pony’s voice was eerily calm. “That seems silly.” She stared up at the archer, who shied slightly.
“Get away from her!” The stallion, seeing his partner wince, jumped off the opposite bank.
“I mean, if you’re going to kill me, you could take both!” Her shadowed voice sounded like smiles. The archer leveled the bow, tip wavering. “If I’m dead, I won’t be able to stop you. Hmm. I wonder if I have enough money to make it worth your while.” The archer tried to steady her aim, but was badly unnerved by the traveler's obvious disregard for danger.
“Get back, Whin, she’s crazy!” The stallion dashed across the road, moving to help his sister.
“Halt!” Whin waved her bow, frantically emphasizing the weapon. “I’ll shoot!”
“Will you really? It’s been so long since - “
Thwump!
The traveler collapsed with a faint sigh, six inches of feathered quarrel decorating her chest.
For a long moment, the robbers froze.
“I…” Whin gasped, staring at the corpse. “I shot her! She’s dead, Furze!”
“Better off,” Furze snarled. “That one was crazy.”
“Y - yeah.” Whin glanced up. “Yeah, she was crazy. Did you see her coming for me? She made me do it; it wasn’t my fault! You saw.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s never your fault. Come on, let’s get the cart.”
“C-can we just leave her?”
“What? Why not?” Furze glared at his sister. “You want to touch that?” He waved at the cloaked figure.
“No, but - “
“Hee hee hee.”
The two siblings froze, as gentle giggling rose from the dead pony.
“F - Furze…” The sister stared wide-eyed. The brother gulped.
The corpse convulsed. She opened her mouth and splashed gobs of blood into the dust.
“Hey.” She wheezed. “I’m telling you; the money’s in my purse.” She rolled over; her hood fell off, exposing a purple horn and piercing eyes. “If you want it, you’ll have to come get it.” She looked up at the shocked robbers.
“Oh.” A moment later, she looked down to the bolt in her chest. “It’s this, huh? Sorry about that.” She snagged fletching, and drew the bolt clear with a long sucking sound. Gore splattered the ground as she tossed the stained weapon away, trailing strings of flesh. Blood started oozing from the wound, soaking the front of her cloak. She stood, giving the pair a red grin. “Better?”
Whin dropped her bow, and bolted. Furze was a split-second behind.
“Wait!” The traveler moved to pursue, but tripped and fell on the hem of her cloak. It fluttered to the ground, exposing light wings. “Come back!” The forlorn alicorn cried.
“You haven’t killed me yet!”