Cape and Cowl

by Artimae


Chapter Two

1

July 4th, 1007,

I've completed my first night as the Mare do Well. The first of countless. Would I consider it a success, or a failure? I've always been an impatient pony; I need results immediately.

When you're young, with somepony to guide you and walk with you, Manehattan doesn't seem so big. You go to a few select places, sometimes expanding into new territory, but you usually follow a set path.

But now, I'm free of such paths, and I’m only now learning just how big this city is. Living in the night as I do makes it seem somehow bigger, because I can't find the horizon. The edge of the city is a mirage just out of my grasp. Like the dying stallion in the desert who sees the Oasis, it moves further away as I try to reach for it.

I underestimated this city, and now doubt begins to pervade my mind. I was... so sure that it'd be a simple matter of finding four thugs. How hard could it be?

Extremely, apparently. Tonight I saw only a carriage crash and a few purse snatchers (which I promptly stopped. The ponies were grateful to me, so that's nice.) I had thought looking for them would be like looking for a needle in a haystack... hahahah, no. Try pinpointing a grain of sand in the San Palomino Desert. That's how grand this city is, and how impossible my task is.

I can't let it get to me, however. This was only the first night. It may take weeks, months, years. I don't care, I'll outlive the Princesses themselves just to bring these four to justice.

Speaking of justice... I was able to satisfy a secondary objective of mine. My Master taught me more than how to fight - I must observe everything, blend in, assess every possible angle.

I met four pairs of the Night Guard tonight. I met them as Snow Storm, not the Mare do Well. I met them as a silly girl who got lost after her movie ran too long, and I sized them up.

The Guard seems to have a simplified hierarchy system, with senior officers taking cadets under their wing (so to speak), and some sort of Captain. I'll have to learn more.

I must admit, seeing a Fulake up close can be intimidating. Their sharp fangs, slitted eyes, and leathery wings are enough for any vivid imagination to vilify them.

After the initial shock, however, they're really a nice species. Their reputation as playful pranksters is well deserved - one Lieutenant was teasing his cadet about me. He probably does the same with any young mare.

I can see the sun coming up now, and I need to sleep. This... is going to be difficult, balancing the Mare do Well with a dayjob. I can't complain - the Oranges don't have to do a single thing for me, yet they'd give me the world if I asked. If I ever regain my ability to speak (therapy, perhaps? Must look into it.)

I must rest now, I can already feel myself slipping off into sleep at this desk.

-Snow Storm


2

“Rise and shine, Miss Storm!”

Annabelle Orange’s refined motherly voice was a distant echo in Snow Storm’s mind as she slept deeply.

“Really, now…” Mrs. Orange frowned at the blanketed, snoring lump that was her adopted daughter. The corners of her mouth tightened into a wicked grin as her rolling eyes stopped upon a set of closed blinds. This should be good.

Snow Storm squinted her eyes shut as a new flood of sunlight blasted her eyes. Alright, alright, I’m up! she had wanted to say, though all that came out was a guttural grunt. Her rear legs tangled in the blanket she had completely covered herself with and she flailed about, trying to kick out of them. Her face became uncovered and she threw up a foreleg to shield her eyes from the unfiltered sunlight. She blinked away the black spots in her vision, and finally rolled out of bed, landing ungracefully on her legs and yawning widely.

“Good morning, dear,” Mrs. Orange said sweetly. Almost innocently. “Don’t forget, today is the day you start working! Make your bed, get dressed, and come down for breakfast.” She trotted away and shut the bedroom door, leaving Snow Storm with some privacy.

* * *

“Good morning!” Mr. Orange said cheerfully when Snow Storm finally came downstairs for breakfast. “I hope you are looking forward to helping out around here! It could not be a nicer day, too… oh, I’m afraid I had the last of the toast, but there’s plenty of orange juice!” He chuckled. It was the seventh time he had made that joke since she had arrived there. Considering she’d only been back for a day or so, his dedication to dry humor was admittedly impressive.

Snow Storm smiled brightly - not that his orange puns were particularly funny, but she appreciated them all the same. After a quick wolfing of her own breakfast, she started for the mansion's rear exit, a pair of ornate redwood doors facing the Orange’s massive, twenty-acre grove.

“Now I expect you thought you’d be bucking the trees, bringing down oranges like the others,” Mr. Orange said as he walked through the groves alongside her. “But that would be a waste of your talents. You seem a lot stronger than most of the stallions here, and recently our strongest one had to move away, leaving us with no one to haul the cart to town. My dear, I’d be delighted if you’d do that for us.” He pulled the sheet off of a rickety old cart.

“Snow Storm, meet Delilah.” He grinned fondly at the ancient contraption. Snow Storm herself seemed a little disheartened at the poor condition of the cart, however. She stared at the thing for a long moment... and then the neurons in her brain started firing. She blinked, pointed at the cart, pointed at herself, tapped her throat, and shrugged. Her ears drooped, and her eyes bore a confused, slightly worried expression.

“Oh, if you’re worried about getting everypony’s attention, you can ring the bell on the side of the cart. I had it installed since… well, you know.” He winced, politely omitting her muteness. “As for bartering, you must stick to your guns. Never let them push you around. In this city if you give them an inch they’ll take a mile. Oh, and leave before nightfall. I hate to say it, but the thieves start to come out in force after dark, and there’s no sense in risking your life. If you ever get mugged, just leave the cart and run. This old thing can be replaced, you cannot. Have you got all that? Here, if you have any other questions...” He handed her a scrap of paper and a pencil; he had taken to carrying such items around for her sake.

If anypony tries to mug me, they'll be in for a big surprise. She shook her head politely at the pencil and paper, ignoring the thought shooting through her mind; she’d let Mr. Orange be the protective father-figure he wants to be. After a moment of fiddling with the cart's harness, she managed to slip snugly into it. Now all that was left was to fill it.

For as big as the cart was, it was surprisingly quick to fill. “Good luck out there, and remember; we’ve got the best oranges in Manehattan. Don’t let the fools over at the Rind Family think they’ll convince the city otherwise!” He grinned and waved his adopted daughter goodbye.


3

“Eight bits for two oranges is ridiculous!” a plump mare with a foal just as round clinging to her knee said frankly, raising her voice over the background noise of Market Street. “So, giving me the silent treatment, hrm? I simply cannot believe how rude kids are these days!”

Snow Storm rolled her eyes, produced a homemade bootknife from the cart's cupboard at her knee, peeled the orange, cut a small piece off, and handed it to the mare. And if the fat broad doesn't like it, I'll just eat it my own self, she thought bitterly. Sometimes muteness was a blessing.

The mare took a nibble, chewing it thoughtfully. She handed Snow Storm four bits.

“We’ll take that one, I need to see if Gumdrop here likes it.” She was handed another segment and handed it to the colt.

“But Mooooooooooooom, I don’t wanna eat fruit!” he whined.

“You shut your spoiled little mouth, you will get your vitamin C if I have to shove this down your throat myself!” she said, her voice gaining volume. The street dropped to a dead silence, with heads turning in their direction. Snow Storm felt a heat rise in her face as the mother and son argued back and forth. After a few minutes of bickering, the colt finally gave in.

“...Well?”

“It’s awful, I hate it.”

The old mare watched her son's distaste, her frown turning into a devious grin at his discomfort. “We'll take four boxes.”

Good, take it and go you pompous hag. Snow Storm’s face creased in a deep frown as the mare walked away with her pudgy little whine-box in tow. I may not even bother keeping up with the Mare do Well stuff if there are ponies like that in this city.

All around, the white noise of a hundred voices and vendors started up again.

* * *

It had been a long, boring afternoon for Snow Storm. Sales of the citrus fruits were decent based on name recognition alone, but the hours seemed to drag by, as if Onyot, the God of Time himself were mocking her. Her head was laying on the cart’s wooden top, resting on one cheek, while she rolled a tangerine back and forth between her forehooves, contemplating what sort of ritual sacrifice would be needed in order for the God of Time to speed up the day when a familiar Fulake strolled up, waking her up from her slump.

“I’ll take a box, I was planning on making a cake for- oh! Fancy meeting you again, haha!” It was Lieutenant Flyntt, out of uniform. He laughed, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t even recognized the mare behind the cart.

“So, you’re working for the Oranges? Best orange juice in town, I couldn’t start my day without it!” He gave her a friendly enough grin. “How have things been? Guess you got home after that movie, huh?”

She shrugged and nodded in noncommittal agreement. Her eyebrows raised and she pointed at him, asking the stallion how he was.

“Not much to tell, for a guard at least. Pelleas is hopeless, kid’s got no imagination for comebacks at all… oh, and the streets are safe I guess. I’m taking an orange cake down to an old friend of mine’s retirement party. Between you and me? I kinda wish there was a little more excitement out there, some more gangs to fight or something… heheh, not like you’ll be telling anyone anyway!” he remarked cheekily, but soon his face fell into a more serious manner.

“Look, I hate to ask this. I know it’s hard, but… gosh. Listen, I know who you are now. We’ve been looking for your brother’s murderer for a long time, but… look, cases go cold. Trails get lost. I really hate to ask this, but… do you possibly remember anything?”

Snow Storm stared at him for a moment, her own face becoming serious. One great thing about being mute… one learned how to become an actress with facial expressions. She tongued her cheek, as if contemplating the request. Oh, of course she remembered. Every detail of them was burned into her brain, though he seemed to believe there was only one. After what seemed the right amount of time, she shook her head and shrugged.

“I see. Sorry about this. I know this is hardly something you wanted to talk about right now... well if you remember anything later on, please don’t hesitate to contact us, alright?”

She shrugged and wrote down a quick note. “I was only ten at the time, of course. I don’t remember much of anything.

“Well thanks for your time anyway… oh crap, my shift starts in ten minutes! I’ll take two boxes please,” he said, handing her the bits and rushing off. A few minutes later he ran back to pick up his oranges.

“...Can’t believe I almost forgot the oranges, bye!” he said, taking the box and dashing off once more.


4

About half an hour passed without event, the ponies that passed by not even bothering to give so much as a cursory glance at the fruit stall or it’s contents. The sun beat down on Snow Storm, who began to wish she had brought a fan, or even just a bottle of water to combat the relentless, unforgiving midday heat. She turned her attention to the rooftops across the way, and began to daydream of leaping across them as she had done the night before. She remembered the strange sensation of the jump, the brief, giddy thrill of weightlessness, of knowing what it was like to have no safe ground beneath her hooves, if only for a moment…

“O-oh! I’m sorry…” a skinny-looking filly said in an adorable whisper as she bumped into the stand, breaking Snow Storm out of her daydream. Snow Storm noticed that the impact had caused a few oranges to roll off the cart, and right into the greedy hooves of the filly’s accomplices.

“Crap, she’s seen us! RUN!” The youths scrambled, leaving the filly to try and escape Snow Storm herself. She was caught only moments later, no match for the speed of the mare.

“Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t feed us enough at the orphanage!” She grumbled, a number of items falling from her saddlebags - some of them far more valuable than mere oranges.

Snow Storm frowned at the filly... but there wasn't much she could do. The filly wouldn’t get far anyway, not on Market Street. There were too many witnesses.

“Hmph!” the filly said, walking away. She stopped, turning and throwing the orange at Snow Storm’s face.

“Your oranges suck anyway!” She remarked, galloping away at surprising speed.

* * *

As the sun began to set, Mr. Orange showed up at last. He gave her a bottle of water, smiling.

“You’ve earned it. I’m impressed, actually. Most stallions quit after a day in this kind of heat, but you’ve toughed it out just like I thought you would. Tonight, we’ll order curry or something, my treat!” he smiled. “So, meet anyone interesting today? It tends to be a little uneventful around here.”

She shrugged, then shook her head. What was it that the guard cadet had said? 'Nothing to report'. She smiled, wishing she could make the words come out. As the sun settled down, Mr. Orange helped pack up the cart for the night. It was significantly lighter on Snow Storm's shoulders.


5

Snow Storm perched on a rooftop’s lip, watching the streets below. Once again, there was no sign of the four she sought, but tonight she had another target in mind. A filly and her little group of degenerates had dared to rob the Oranges, and they were going to have to pay for that.

Where are you, you little urchin…

“Damnit, what do you mean you lost everything?” The voice of a bratty young stallion floated on the breeze from nearby.

“Listen, some cranky mare was running the stall and she caught me, alright? It wasn’t like the last guy, she was fast!”

“I don’t care, you’re supposed to be the best we got and you screwed up bigtime,” the lanky young stallion said angrily. “...if you wanna stay a part of the gang, you gotta prove yourself.”

“Fine! As if it’d be difficult for me anyway.”

“You gotta go steal something from the manor on the outskirts of town… the Orange family mansion.”

The group gasped.

“Yeah, I can handle that. As if those old farts will miss a few spoons or something,” she grinned fearlessly.

Foals... why did it have to be foals? Snow Storm watched the scene from her vantage point, her face set in a frown. She could scare them off, maybe. But if they decided to stand their ground... well, she couldn't very well hit a kid.

She sighed, pulling the Mare do Well mask over her face. The filly was already gone, dead-set on completing her mission. She didn't matter; Snow Storm would corner her at the mansion. For now, however...

The Mare do Well landed on all fours, seemingly having fallen from the night sky. She turned slowly to face the teenaged colt.

“Oh shoot!” the colt said, starting to run off. He tripped on the cobblestone path and fell gracelessly to the floor.

“W-what do you want? I ain’t got any money!” he said, slowly backing away.

She walked toward him at a plodding pace, her head low, face forward - image was just as important as actual criminal justice. Just scare him a little.

“Listen, I ain’t even done nothing! I was just talking to my friend, what’s the problem with that?” he said, clearly frightened of the mare. It seemed her silence was far more intimidating than she had expected.

“Quit staring at me like that! Here, it’s everything I stole today, now leave me alone!” he said, tossing her a handful of bits and a silver pocketwatch.

The silver eyes of her mask continued to stare at him.

“Screw this, I’m outta here! I got nothing else to give you, bye!” he said, fleeing the scene sobbing with as little dignity as possible.

She turned slowly around, eyeing every other member of that small gang. The face of the mask was serious, harsh even. Thank the princess Luna they couldn't see the utter amusement in her eyes. This had turned out to be pretty fun, after all.

“She got to the Boss like it was nothin’... I’m not fighting her,” one said, placing the valuables he had stolen on the floor and slowly backing away. One by one the others all followed suit. To Snow Storm’s satisfaction, a few of the oranges from before were amongst the items claimed. Maybe later she would hand in the rest to the guards, assuming they kept a lost and found for such matters.

Then again, I could use a few extra bits in my bags. Sure. The jewelry and such would be returned, but nopony ever counted a lost coin here and there, right?

“Where’s the kid?” one of them whispered to another, not quite as out of earshot as they had hoped.

“She’ll be at the mansion by now. Don’t worry, the stuff she’ll nab there will be worth more than all this junk put together!” the other said to reassure him.

Snow Storm frowned. She had business to conclude, but... there was something else. Those kids. Yes. What had been said? 'It's not our fault the orphanage doesn't feed us enough!'

She found the hiding place of their leader, and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Damnit, what did I tell you before?” he asked, clearly terrified of her. “For the last time, I got nothin’ left to give you!”

She reached back into her saddlebag. The adolescent winced, expecting the worst... but she gave him the tangerines that had been taken earlier that day.

“Huh?” he said, confused.” But why…? What are you after, whoever you are? Say somethin’ for once!”

She looked around, found a stone, and ran it against the ground as a crude writing tool. Even in the silvery, bright night, they could barely make out the word 'EAT'.

The colt looked confused, but after a few minutes he ate one of the oranges.

“I’m not that hungry anymore. We usually share up the oranges, along with whatever else we can find. It’s better than the stuff they serve at home…” he sighed. “Thanks. We won’t steal more than we need in future. In return, you keep off our backs. Deal?”

She nodded, starting off towards home. There was still one more member to catch.

* * *

The filly from before was tiptoeing through the shadows of the Orange family mansion. The light of the moon was all that gave her away, but as far as she was aware there was no one there to see her.

As she slowly ascended the staircase a creaky floorboard made her freeze; she knew only too well those were the sort of amateurish mistakes that could get her kicked out of the group; this was her favorite type of mission- all or nothing.

“Heheh, that was easy! And to think, even the grownups who tried to rob this place got caught! They were no match for Manehattan’s Number One Master Thief!” She allowed herself the boast, not noticing the figure that stood in the shadows.

“You are not the first to break into this house.” It was a mare’s voice. Strict, refined, with an underlying hint of twang, as if she had lived on a farm in a past life.

The filly slowly turned around, a hint of fear in her eyes.

“...Great,” she mumbled sarcastically. “I was this close to finally pulling off a real heist, too. Fine.” She sighed, dropping the set of spoons she had taken.

“Don’t feel too bad, sweetheart. Greater thieves than you have tried and failed. And older ones. Starting out kind of early, aren’t you?”

“I gotta if I’m gonna become the greatest thief in Manehattan!” She beamed, her head already filling itself with grandeur. “Well, I guess I oughta get going. The guys are gonna wonder why I’m taking so long if I’m not back soon.” She turned, starting to walk away and making a mental note to try and acquire a smoke bomb for a flashier exit next time.

“Oh but what sort of responsible dam would I be if I let a child walk all the way to the city by herself?” Annabelle Orange stepped out from the shadows and into plain view of the filly. “Perhaps I should call for you a Guard escort?”

“Huh? But I thought for sure you were the cranky girl from before…” the filly said, confused. “As for escorting me home, I can handle myself, and the Guards and me have a history… if you sent for one they wouldn’t be taking me home, that’s the for sure…” She sighed. “Well, I’ll see you around!”

But if I do my job, you won’t see me, not next time…

“‘The cranky girl from before’, hrm? I hope you mean Mrs. Rind. She can be quite the bother.”

“Nah, she was quite young. Blue mane, white coat, and she is uggggllllyyy!” The filly giggled- not realizing that Snow Storm had just arrived, and was right behind her.

Mrs. Orange nodded over to the purple-clad figure. “One of your friends come to save you, my dear little filly? I daresay, the things kids wear these days.”

Snow Storm started beneath her mask as she saw Mrs. Orange still awake. Oh Goddess oh Luna please don’t let her figure it out why is she even awake at this hour!? Her heart beat rapidly under that suit… but thankfully Mrs. Orange had taken her role in the opposite direction. She’d just have to play along for now.

“Who in Equestria…? Well, I’m out of here. I don’t think I’ll try robbing this place again, you guys are way too weird for it to be worth the hassle. Seeya!” the filly ran off into the night.

The Mare do Well stared at Mrs. Orange. Beneath the suit, Snow Storm was frozen solid, afraid to move. Her mind raced and her heart was going just as fast - if she even moved an inch, somehow that sly old dam would know everything. That’s impossible. I locked my room door, they’d never disturb me anyway. Maybe she was just getting a glass of water, that’s all…

Mrs. Orange stared at her for a second, then smiled sweetly.

“If you were a robber I suppose you’d have raided the place by now, like your friend just attempted to. A rather strange costume for a thief to wear, though… too strange for that sort of work. I could understand the mask, but such an elaborate suit! And much too fancy for that sort of work,” she chuckled at the idea, remaining perfectly calm despite the circumstances.

“Well, I suppose it’d be rude for me to not offer a guest some tea, wouldn’t it? I’ll go put the kettle on,” she said, walking out of the room. It was as if she knew the mare would be stuck on the spot until she left, giving her the opening she needed.

As soon as Mrs. Orange was out of sight, the Mare do Well bailed, bolting through the house and following the little thief into the night. Goddess never let it come to that again!

Out in the open, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Dear Epona that mare is too slick… Her legs were quivering. She looked towards the bright lights of the city, turned back to the manor… and decided she was too tired to carry on. She stripped the suit, stuffed it deep in her saddlebag, and wrote a quick note about a movie before starting back home.

Her four targets would keep.

One night off wouldn’t hurt. Besides, she was exhausted.