I do not own My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
In the very early morning skies above Equestria, a single shadow could be seen moving on it’s own as it began to descend over to a cliffside. A small town could be located nearby, it’s lights twinkling in the still dark surroundings and illuminating the world for those still awake.
A large lake could be seen near this town, later breaking up into a few rives, one of which cut through the town itself. The waters origin was pouring over the edge of the cliffside, making an impressively large waterfall that nearly spanned half of the cliff. It was quite the sight, and made for a common travel spot to visit these falls that created such a large lake and flowing rivers.
This was not in the lone fliers plans though, as she landed to the ground and headed for one of the small taverns on the edge of town. Looking past her hood to read the sign and confirm it was the place, she entered in and began her search.
The place was nearly empty, with only a lone bartender up to tend to any travelers that would come in at such early hours. There were a few others, mostly drinking some strong coffee to keep awake or getting food from traveling so long. Others were getting their breakfast, readying for the day ahead and for their early morning work.
Running her eyes over the tavern once more, she spotted two individuals that seemed to stand out. The first thing was how alert they were, despite how early it was in the morning. The second was their cloths, being a bit more thicker then what was needed in their current surroundings.
The first was a blue unicorn, who mostly had himself dressed in tan and blue robes and had a few bags an packs strapped over himself. He calmly sat in his place, lending his head over to cast a constant shadow over his eyes.
The second wasn't a pony, but a deep brown griffin who had a number of fur pelts over himself, as well as a bone neckless. Strapped to his back was some hunting gear, a bow with a quiver and a fews knives strapped a crossed his chest.
Making her way over, she sat herself down in a open chair while the griffin grunted, “You’re late missy.” Grasping a bottle of ale and downing more of it. Setting it down, he asked, “Woot made ya take so bloody long Fleeting?”
Pulling her hood back to free her silver mane, Fleet Foot told, “Wanted to make sure we can get in and out with no hassle, Rancor.” Reaching into her saddlebag and pull out two folded slips of paper.
Both were enveloped in a green aura of magic, as the blue unicorn lifted his slightly shadowed face to curiously look at them both. He then floated one to himself, and sent the other one to float over to Rancor, who snatched it out of the air.
Flipping it in his grasp a few times and then opening it to look at its contents, he asked, “Passports?” Gaining a grin on his beak, “Well, ain’t that a nifty idea, eh Occult?” Directing the last bit of thought to the unicorn beside him.
Occult, still silent as ever, just nodded while he continue to look over the passport with shadow covered eyes before stowing it into one of his many pockets.
Giving the unicorn stallion a confused look, Fleet Foot commented, “Not much of a talker I take it?” Trying to shift to the side enough to see throughout the shadow shredding his eyes. Instead of seeing anything, the shadows seemed to deepen, as if trying to stop her from seeing anything.
Placing his own passport away, Rancor told, “Nothin’ like that Fleeting.” Pointing a thumb over to the mage of their little group, “Turns out Occult’s mute. Can’t speak a word, but comes highly recommended when it comes to spell work by your brother.”
Fleet Foot just nodded, staring at the ever quite changeling mage. She didn't try and pretend she knew every changing in her clan, but there were times she wondered who was part of it. Made her wish she visited home more at times, but being a wonderbolt often kept her away.
Looking back to Rancor, the mare decided to ask, “So when are we leaving?” Waiting for the older griffin to finish his drink.
When he did finish, Rancor set the bottle to the side and reached onto a pouch to pull out some bits saying, “When I’m done with my drink, we’re leaving.” Counting out the gold coins in his talion palm.
Watching as the griffin counted out the bits he needed to pay, Fleet Foot turned to Occult and ask, “So, do we have a base plan for when we reach Masquerade?”
Occult tilted his head at her direction, the mute unicorn seemed to ponder over the question for some time before using his magic to once more grab something. Opening a pouch, a pad of paper with a small piece of smooth coal and started to write.
After he was pleased with what he had written, the mage floated the small slip of paper to Fleet Foot, whom took it into her hoof and read it. Lifting her eyes up, she questioned, “That’s it, we go in and snoop around some burnt-out condemned house and hope Masquerade’s there?”
Occult gave a single nod, once more lighting his horn to take back the small slip of paper and put it away.
Sighing to herself, Fleeting just sat and watched Rancor place the final bit on the table before downing more of his drink. They had about three to four days worth of travel by flight, she she figured she’d sit and relax while she could.
Flight through the frozen skies of the Griffin Kingdom was rather peaceful for the most part, as the skies remained clear with no cloud in sight. All three fires consisting of one griffin and two pegasi acting as his wing-mates, made considerable time during their trip.
They had yet to be slowed down by any naturally made storms or high winds. Even when the wind caused a little turbulence, the three of them handled it with little trouble.
The only thing slowing them down was Occult, who was not the most greatest flier opposed to his magical skill. But Fleet Foot had to admit that he was keeping up rather well. Mostly because she herself was a wonderbolt, an elite flier by Equestrian standards. Rancor was no slouch to flight either, as he had to sometimes track his targets to other kingdoms, and at times carry them back during flight. He made sure that they were out cold during said flights.
As for the sights, there was not much to talk about. There were a number of mountains all around, a common sight to see in the Griffin Kingdom. Below were forests of evergreens, which still bore their name proudly by staying green even in the harsh cold. Streams and rivers of many sizes cut through the land, most being frozen over by the cold and even vanish with the snow collecting on the ice.
Another rouge wind soon hit the three, forcing Fleeting to use a hoof to hold down her hood and once more tighten it. She may have been though up by the training Spitfire put her under, but one fact always remained. Changelings did not like the cold. If it were not for the fact they could gain fur during their shapeshifting, than they would never go anywhere near freezing tundra areas.
“There’s the town settlement!” Rancor called from his leading position, “Are you lot ready?” Preparing to dive down.
Looking to her left, Fleet Foot got a nod from her fellow pegasus, then shouted over the wind, “Ready!”
That was all that was needed to send the larger flier into a dive, not looking back, knowing that both disguised changelings where keeping pace with him. He was an experienced hunter, and they too were experienced as he was. So Rancor was unconcerned about the two, confident enough in their abilities.
Landing just outside the gate, they began to wonder right in, each one scanning their surroundings. The first thing that was noted was the lack of being stopped. Fleet Foot cast her gaze up to one of the higher towers near the entrance, seeing some guards watching them enter.
She wondered why they were not stopped and interrogated as to why they were there. It either meant that they were overconfident, or had something here that would deter any troublemakers.
Looking around the place himself, Rancor commented, “Well, aint this a cheery place.” Taking note how none even sent a second look to the group, “Wonder if they get visitors much.”
“Would explain how lax their front guard are.” Fleet Foot nodded to the hunter of their group, “They should be more alert than this.”
Occult nodded along, looking about from under his hood with unseen narrowed eyes. It was hard for any to see where he was looking in particular, but all could see his curious nature from how he moved.
Lifting a hoof, Occult tapped Rancors folded wing, getting him to stop. Fleeting likewise did the same when she saw the stallion stop their current lead and turned to Occult.
With their attention, he pointed his other hoof to a collection of buildings. While most would assume he was just pointing out the buildings alone, the two changelings saw something else. Just over a few roof tops, they could see the small tells of a ruined roof with burns.
Smirking, Fleet bumped the stallion lightly and praised, “Nice catch.” Making her way towards the spotted building.
Occult merely responded by giving a small smile and a nod, before regaining his straight face and moving in step with Fleet Foot. Rancor also nodded to the silent mage when he could, showing his own approval.
Their path was not that direct though, and spent their time working their way around the town sized settlement at a steady pace and taking in the sights. Rancor made a offclawed comment they should visit one of the pubs, so that they could seem less out of place.
Truth was, he wanted to try some more griffin brewed beer or wine while he was in the area. This was shot down by Fleet Foot, who reminded that if he was not in his original form, then he could get drunk. In which case, the mare did not want to put up with.
It was with that Rancor could not just stay idle, “Are you saying I cant hold my own liquor, sheila?”
“I’m saying we have a job to do, and I don't want you asleep on the job.” Fleet Foot retired with a professional tone.
Glaring at the mare, Rancor told, “I’ll ‘ave ya know I can drink a good lot of the strongest ale and still be standing!”
“Coherently?” Fleeting challenged with a smirk.
“Well it would take me that much to even lose a bit of my edge, you cant even handle a pint!” Rancor shot back to the offended looking mare.
Glaring back up to the taller griffin, Fleet Foot said, “Well, it’s not my fault the wonderbolts have extremely strict drinking protocols I have to abide by. We have to be at our best at any moment!”
Between the two, Occult sighed in silence, unable to do much of anything to stop the two from their little banter-war. Instead of trying to get them to stop, he used his time by keeping an eye on their surroundings. He probably didn't need to, as both hunter and ranger were fairly aware of their surroundings, but the mage wanted to error on the side of caution.
Putting on a thoughtful look, Rancor admitted, “Huh…you might have a point there…” Getting a satisfied nod from the mare. But his thoughtful look turned into a smirk as he said airily, “Their probably scared of you blowin’ up the place while drunk.”
The griffin ducked as a pile of snow was tossed where his head was, as a snorting Fleet Foot growled, “I am carful with my explosives, and make sure to use them wisely.” Calming down and fixing her overcoat some.
“That’s not how I remember it, sheila.” Rancor shrugged, walking on as if nothing had happened.
While Fleeting gave off small waves of irritation, Rancor looked to his right, smiling, “Well, here we are.” Taking in the incomplete burnt house that liked ready to fall in on itself.
Motioning with his head for the other two to follow him in, Occult stayed back a bit to make sure none were following them in. Please when he saw nothing, he slinkier inside. From there they followed Rancor, who kept his gaze to the floor and followed a slightly noticeable trail.
It was a day or two old by his estaminet, but still fresh for him to track. It lead them into a fairly closed off room, making it hidden enough for Occult to change back into his unicorn form and preform some scanning based spells.
Fleet Foot wondered around the small room, trying to spot anything with her own limited tracking skills. It didn't really turn up anything, only slight tracks from Masquerades varying forms he used during his outings.
Finishing his scan, Occult began to walk right up to a section of the floor, using his magic to carefully lift the loose boards free from their place and set them aside.
Hearing his moments, both pegasus and griffin turned to see what the unicorn was up to, but were given sight to a rolled up letter and a bag. Each one passed looks at one another, while Occult lifted the two item out, passing the bag to Rancor and the letter to Fleeting.
Taking the letter bound by black ribbon and sealed by green wax marked with two masks, Fleeting made short work of breaking the seal and reading…
I don’t have much time to write, and am on the clock.
The scouts I’m following had began preparations to leave next morning after finding out some troubling information. I’m not sure if we have a leak or somepony was missed, but the Griffin Kindom is now on a marehunt for any and all possible changelings in their boarders.
I have changed my plan accordingly as quickly as I could, and am in the final stages of leaving. I have figured out a way for you to track my last location before I vanish again, and it’s in the bag I left.
Send the news to both miss Sunshine and Moonlight, the griffins are about to cause panic in who knows how many changeling clans. They need to be stopped before those clans act out in defense and try protecting themselves in a panicked move.
Until later, Double Take.
PS. leave no evidence.
After reading the last line, Fleet rolled up the letter in her hooves, glancing around the room and asking, “You got all of that?”
Occult nodded in affirmation, while Rancor looked a the bags contents agreeing, “Yeah, I heard ya.” Lifting a rather filthy feather up.
Nodding, Fleet Foot wordlessly hoofed the letter over to Occult, who took it up in his magic and with a more intense glow, made it slowly turn it into nothing more than dust.
Blinking at what now not remained of the letter, the wonderbolt gave a low, “Wow…” Both impressed and a bit scared at how easy the changeling mage just disintegrated the paper.
Rancor meanwhile stared at the feather for a bit, muttering, “Griffin, and a rather filthy one at that.” Turning it a few time in his talon and adding, “Female…no, male…cant get the age, too much damage…”
Eventually the faux griffin looked over to Occult asking, “Got another fancy spell for tracking, mate?” Holding out the feather for the unicorn.
With a nod, the stallion used his magic to open one of his pouches to produce a small leather string, opening another pouch to get out a clip of some sort. Taking the feather from Rancor, he began making a neckless out of the three things, casting a spell over the feather last.
When the magic receded away, the feather lifted and floated to the left a little. Moving it, the others could see the feather still tried to pull in one direction, but unable to get free of it’s connection to the neckless.
“Beauty.” Rancor smirked, taking the new tracking item from the mages magical grasp asking, “Got enough to make two more?” Getting a nod from the silent spell crafter.
Chucking the bag of feathers to him, Rancor said, “Alright, new plan. Occult I want two more of those trackers for you and Fleeting to use.” After getting a nod from the unicorn, he addressed, “Fleeting, think you can make this wreck come down and hide any evidence?”
A smirk worked it’s way onto the Fleet Foot’s features, who offhoofedly said, “Make a condemned house collapse without drawing too much attention…I think I can manage.” Running the calculations in her mind how to make the weakened building to fall.
Nodding, Rancor said, “Good, get to it. I want us out of here and in some cave before the guards start runnin’ about like a bunch of headless chickens.” Heading for the exit he told, “I’m going t’ get us some cheep blankets so we can rest at our next stop.”
As he left both changelings with pony facades, Fleet Foot turned to Occult, who was finishing the last neckless and asked, “Think he’s just using that as an excuse to get that beer?”
Lifting his gaze up, Occult just gave a blank stare to the mare before fixing his shadow covered eyes back to his work. Fixing a smirk onto her face, Fleeting nodded knowingly, “Yeah, me too.” Getting to work on starting a ‘inevitable’ collapse of a condemned building.
The next day, the three woke up from their current place of rest and erased any trace of their existence. Any fire pit they made was put out and buried. The tracks were they could have made were brushed away and messed up with some washed over water from Occult. After they were done covering their tracks for the time being, they left and made their way towards a forest not too far off.
They would stop now and then to get a bead on where their feather guiding necklaces were pointing them, flying in it’s direction to find the infiltrator. After hours of searching, they found something.
Lifting a brow, Rancor asked, “Aint this infiltrator suppose to be the best or somthin’?” Referring to the dead griffin body that was frozen and slightly covered in snow, “Cuz all I see is a dead one.” Eyeing over a deep stab wind that was in the griffins back.
Shaking her head, Fleet Foot denied, “For all we know that could have been one of the scouts.” Looking down at the body and browning blood adding, “One that knew at least stage-3 transformation…”
Like the other two, Occult was scanning over the body, only using his magic to do most of the work for him. Blinking a few times, he scanned again to be sure. Doing once more to be sure, Occult lit his horn and began to use his magic to form words into the soft snow.
Hearing the sound of stomping, both hunter and ranger looked up to see Occult’s writing, which simply said, “Not changeling. All griffin.”
Looking down to the body and then up to the pony mare, Rancor asked, “What do you think Sheila, ya know this infiltrator better than us. This part of his MO?” Taking a look around his surroundings.
Taking a moment to think and look over the body once more, Fleeting nodded, “Maybe… I know this he swords, not hatchets, so theres that. Also, Masquerade was not above using others to further his endgame.” Circling the deceased body a bit more saying, “He was either some idiot that got himself killed, or an idiot that fell for one of Mask’s tricks. My bits are on the latter.”
Nodding to that, Rancor lowered his body to get a better viewing of how the snow was. It was harder to see with the winds smoothing it over and some snowfall from some days back, but the hunter could clearly see a path. With a signaling come motion, the other two began to follow the hunter through the woods.
As they tracked through the wood, Rancor could tell there was another set of tracks, belonging to what he felt was a tracker themselves as it was more straighter near where they started, opposed to the slight zig-zag that ended with the dead body.
Nearly a half-hour of walking later, they came a crossed a slight clearing hidden by the treetops overhead. On the other side, they could see a form covered slightly in snow. Fleet Foot gave off a feeling of dread, but held herself in place with the other two and cautiously made their way over.
Close enough, Occult lit his horn and pushed the snow away, giving view to who was under it. A sigh of relief was heard as Fleet Foot relaxed at the unfamiliar body of a griffin splattered with green blood. It showed a nasty spot where some of it’s he'd was hit from what Rancor presumed was the hatchet on the griffins body.
Investigating the area a bit further, they agreed there was nothing left and moved on, tracking the slightly faded trail backwards. At one point, Rancor decided that the feathers were no longer needed, having Occult get rid of them.
They soon came to a stop at a new area, one where rancor looked about in some confusion. Feeling the others curiosity, he explained, “Something aint right here…” Looking at the tracks more intently.
Fleet Foot and Occult traded looks, silently asking the other as if they might have the answer to what the hunter was referring to.
Leaning down into the snow more, Rancor scanned his eyes over the snow and the tracks that were made. In his mind, he reproduced the events best he could in his minds eye.
Pointing to a spot Rancor told, “Right there, a griffin apparently landed and stayed put and low…” Moving over to the spot to get a better look and think for a moment. Tracing his talon over the slight indentation in the snow, he muttered, “There’s three scouts, but from what we know they were alone…” Using his eyes to continue scanning over the snow.
At the mounds and where the tracks lead, he announced to the others, “He was surprised, something had come out suddenly.” Turning his gaze up to some bushes, “One of them attacked the other, which meant this spot was where the scout was hiding before makin’ a break for it.” Moving and jumping over the bushes.
Quick to follow, both pegasus and unicorn followed their griffin lead as he followed the tracks in hast, gaining some confusion as he spoke, “But these track tell tha’ the bloke was chasin’ somethin’… Something that was jus’ out of grasp…” Quickening his pace.
“That sounds like Masquerade.” Fleet Foot called up to Rancor, “He must have lead that other griffin to that scout as a distraction.”
“But why?” Rancor demanded, “Why go to the trouble of havin’ some extra players in this little hunt?” Stopping at moments to spot spots were droplets of blood had made small declines in the snow.
Jumping over the next bush they were given sight to another small clearing. Unlike the last though, a pile of snow was easy to make out as a crash site where something was tacked.
Letting his eyes roam over the area, Rancor could tell there was a lot of activity here. One set of tracks from the small snow trench.
Another set of tracks crossing the same crash site. A third set of tracks coming in from another location and moving to some declines in the snow suggesting struggling. Those same tracks went about the area, from the crash site, to a bush and then out of the area.
It was the bush that Rancor went to, following the indentation in the snow and moving the leaves of the still green bush aside. He then gained a smirk saying, “Fleeting, tha’ stag is pretty clever.” Moving aside to show his discovery.
Moving up, Fleet Foot and Occult were given sight to a changeling cocoon and a set of swords, presumedly from Masquerade. But more importantly was what was inside the cocoon, which held a female changeling common, safe and asleep from the frozen outside.
Dutifully, Occult used his magic to pull both the cocoon and sword set out and before them all, while Rancor told, “Looks like this just turned into a retrieval mission.” Looking at the chaining inside. Though it was a common, Rancor knew the importance she now held, being a well of new information gained from interrogation.
The wonderbolt nodded to what Rancor said, Reaching back and unrolling the cheep blanket that would conveniently serve to help hide the cocoon’s nature. Looking to Occult, she asked, “Got any rope so I can tie this down?”
With a silent nod, Occult searched one of his bags and pulled out a bit of rope, while Rancor raised a brow asking, “You’re just prepared for anythin’ aren't ya?”
With a thoughtful tilt of his head, Occult looked down to the snow and pointe down to the newly written out message that told, “Not for dragons. Magic resistant and tough.”
Both laughed while Fleet Foot nodded, “I know what you mean. Faced a greed fueled dragon once with my team… We got our collective flanks handed to us.” This only made Rancor laugh harder while the unicorn grinned, as if to say he wanted to hear more.
Calming down some, Rancor said, “Alright you two lazy bums, let’s ge’ this girl back to those prissy princesses. Up to them on what to do to her.” Moving over and taking grip of the blanket hidden cocoon.
Both ponies nodded, Occult trading in his unicorn features for that of a pegasus, and Fleet readying to take flight. Taking one last look about, the changeling ranger wished luck to the infiltrator before taking off into the sky with Rancor and Occult.