Fine was back in Songbird Park. This time he sported a brown vest and a baseball cap, his horn poking through a hole designed for just that purpose. He didn’t much care for the outfit, but it was something different from the last few times he’d followed Sunflower, which was what mattered. He’d been forced to get more creative with his work, using dye stolen from a local barber to lighten his coat to a simple yellow. He figured it would last him another two or three days. His mane had lost most of its black dye and, knowing it only aided his disguise, he made no attempt to hide the bright red hair.
He lounged on a bench, not worried about being seen despite the bright sun overhead. He would only stay an hour – just a regular Joe on his break, might look suspicious if he stayed longer. Sunflower was just down the nearby path, working her magic for a group of foals too little for school. Though she grinned and laughed and went through the motions, there was a distinct anxiousness that Fine had come to recognize. It was aimed at the parents, who seemed no less uncomfortable with the presence of this presumably homeless filly entertaining their kids.
At least Sunflower was making a good profit today. This park appeared to be her best spot to work. Once again, Fine wondered why she kept changing venues when she had two or three really good ones throughout the city. Of course, Fine always made sure to slip a few ill-gotten coins into her can when she wasn’t looking. By now she was starting to get wise; Sunflower knew somepony was sneaking her extra bits, and every day she grew more and more alert.
To Fine, it was like a game to see how long he could go without being caught by the filly. He certainly enjoyed it, and approached it with strategy. No secret coin deliveries today, oh no; Sunflower would wake in the morning to find the coins already deposited in her can. Fine had figured her out well enough by now to be able to walk right behind her without being noticed. The thought put a grin on his face.
That grin faded when he saw something entirely unexpected; a green unicorn standing just opposite his bench on the path. It was the expecting father he’d spoke with last week, only… not so happy. The stallion’s mane was a mess and his eyes bloodshot, the expression on his face weary. He stared at Sunflower as if she might be somepony else entirely.
Fine glanced towards Sunflower as she offered a trio of blue flowers to some fillies, all smiles and sunshine to the casual observer. He looked back to the unicorn, who couldn’t take his eyes off her. Fine almost spoke, but he halted his lips upon realizing his appearance. The absence of this pony’s young, bulging wife had Fine on edge, but he didn’t know that stallion, and the stallion didn’t know him. Nor would the stallion recognize him… and Fine had no desire to be recognized.
So why did he feel like something needed to be said?
They remained that way for a long time, Fine observing the unicorn and the unicorn observing Sunflower. No words were ever spoken, and the stallion never noticed Fine’s quiet vigil. After what seemed like an eternity, he at last turned and trudged for the exit, head bowed and sobs barely controlled.
Fine almost hated himself for seeing potential in the situation.
Almost.
The zebra was waiting this time. He caught Sunflower off guard and struck hard enough to knock the filly off her hooves. Fine, still behind the next bend in the path, cursed himself and kept hidden, though his horn glowed in preparation.
“You little zit!” The zebra loomed over Sunflower, steam snorting out his nostrils as he glared upon her. “Trying to hide from me, are ya? Where were you this morning?” He kicked Sunflower just as she was getting back to her hooves. “Answer me!”
He was wearing a belt this time… a belt that held a machete. Fine crouched, ready to pounce.
Sunflower sobbed and clutched at the horn that still hung from her throat. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to hide, I just—”
“Liar!” Another kick. “You were trying to get out of what you owe me, weren’t ya? Do you have any idea how lucky you are? You know what we did to thieves back in Zebrica?”
“P-please, I didn’t—”
“We cut off their hoof!” He gestured to the blade at his side. “I brought Ol’ Cutter. Used this baby to slice off griffon talons for trophies. Guarantee it would have no problem at all taking one of those little hooves of yours. One chop!” He touched the handle with his hoof. “You want me to use Ol’ Cutter?”
“N-no!” Sunflower shook her head frantically, still lying on her side in the dirt. “I’m sorry, it won’t h-happen again!”
“It better not. Now give me that can.”
Sunflower jumped to her hooves and pulled off her pack, hurrying to offer up the can in both hooves. She sobbed as he jerked it from her and spilled the coins on the ground.
“Well, you did good, didn’t you? This why you tried to avoid me, you greedy little thing?” He scooped up some coins and stuffed them in a pouch. “I’m taking twenty-five today, to teach you a lesson.” The zebra glared at Sunflower as she sobbed. “What, you’re gonna bucking cry over this? You should be smiling, you little zit! You’re lucky I ain’t taking every bit from your greedy hooves.”
He kicked the can so it smacked her in the face. “Don’t make have to do this again. If I do, Ol’ Cutter’s gonna be the one talking.”
He walked within only a couple paces of Fine Crime, but didn’t notice his presence in the shadows… or his venomous gaze. As soon as the zebra was gone, Fine slipped closer to Sunflower for a better look. She lay on her side, tears forming rivers on her cheeks, but her crying was stifled. The can lay nearby, her few remaining coins scattered in the dirt.
The horn, black as night, lay nearby. Sunflower’s eyes locked on it. Already her expression was shifting, away from despondency and closing on something… darker.
Fine slipped away unnoticed.
The zebra’s home was a dilapidated structure in the suburbs just outside New Clusterdam’s Horseshoe District. It sat right at the edge of a road in terrible need of maintenance, in a valley between two hills which both had what appeared to be abandoned homes. To Fine – hiding behind the house along the way – the place looked perfect for the zebra’s type. He eyed the pots of poison joke spread throughout the yard of the zebra’s neighbor, who almost certainly didn’t have a license for the things.
Fine lingered outside for over an hour, watching the zebra’s home and waiting for his opportunity. The lights emanating from the windows were dim and shaky, suggesting candles. A light rain came, and still Fine waited, sitting under the cover of an awning and observing the house.
At last the lights went out, and Fine approached. He began by circling the building: making note of windows and doors, scanning the interior, looking for hiding places and potential weapons. The investigation made him long for his old notebook, the one he used to write his observations down in. Ah, for the good old days when he was just a colt roaming Las Pegasus’s shady areas and giving tips to the local crooks. If only his father back at their penthouse suite knew what he’d been ignoring his schooling to do.
He didn’t enter the house immediately, instead waiting for another hour to ensure the bastard was well and truly asleep. Getting inside was painfully simple; for all the locks on the back door, none of them were hard to pick with magic. His entry made, Fine began mapping out the interior – places he hadn’t been able to see from the windows.
The zebra’s house wasn’t anything of note, just four rooms and a short hallway. The place was in severe need of maintenance, much like its neighbors. Fine was grateful that concrete made the foundation, else he was sure he’d be fighting creaky, termite-ridden floorboards. As it was, he managed to move silent as the shadows themselves, his motions long-adapted to minimizing his presence.
The zebra was paranoid; he had another set of locks on his bedroom door. He struck Fine as the type to think that somepony was out to get him.
He was right.
Fine hovered over the zebra, who snored while lying on his back, one leg raised high in the air in an undignified pose. One hoof lay over the scars on his chest, occasionally scratching at them. Fine watched, a cold anger within him, and pondered the incredible ease required to slice the zebra’s throat. He thought back on little Sunflower, the way she’d been kicked around and the look in her eyes as she stared at Sugarcube’s horn.
No, too early. Fine had to savor it, had to wait for the right time.
His attention turned to the junk that littered the room. Despite the room’s messiness, everything appeared to be very organized. Fine eyed the titles on a nearby bookshelf, recognizing many from the bookstores he would sometimes visit when bored. Mostly adventure and war stories, and there was a whole shelf devoted to zebrican literature. Fine flipped one open out of curiosity and found it full of rhyme and verse. It made him wonder why the zebra didn’t speak in rhyme. Perhaps he’d been in Equestria so long it had grown out of him?
There was a small safe behind the door. Keeping his horn as dim as possible and having one eye on the zebra at all times, Fine worked the knob until he’d deciphered the code – an effort of about a half hour – and examined the contents.
Baba Groot. He found the zebra’s name on a medal hidden near the back of the safe. Apparently it had been awarded to him for meritorious action during the Selene River incident in Grypha. Fine was impressed… up until he located the letter of conviction and some folders. What he found was disturbing at best: the murder of griffon cubs, as well as the rape of a few of the zebra mares in his unit. Finalizing the deal was evidence that he’d falsified his records. He’d been at the Selene, but not on the side of the Empire. Baba Groot saw he was on the losing side and falsified records to fool the loyalists into believing he’d been fighting for them all along.
Obviously, they’d fallen for it. Even given him a medal for things he didn’t do. The griffons didn’t stay fooled, though.
With accusations like this, Grypha would certainly have a warrant out for his capture or execution, and Zebrica would never have accepted him back. No wonder he’d fled to the trusting, warm embrace of Equestria. Even then, he had to be keeping his history secret from the authorities, else he’d have already been deported.
Fine put the files back in the safe and locked it up… although he kept the medal. He could pawn it off in another town for some decent bits. It wasn't as if the bastard had actually earned it.
He roamed the house some more, soon finding himself in what appeared to be Baba’s office or study. There was a worn and torn couch before an end table covered in forms and letters. Fine sifted through the paperwork and soon found a number of invoices, receipts and the like. It seemed Baba owned a vegetable stand somewhere in town, buying his produce directly from the farms and selling at a slightly inflated price. It all looked legitimate, and the prices on the receipts actually seemed reasonable for the area.
Fine thought on the things he’d overheard Baba saying to Sunflower. What had he called her, a thief? Had she taken some of his produce and been caught in the act? Yet, as Fine looked over the receipts again, he realized something was off; the prices were far too low for that. If Baba was making Sunflower repay some debt for stolen produce, she’d have to have nabbed a huge amount of goods to justify taking as much as Baba had since Fine had started observing the filly.
Perhaps Sunflower just didn’t know the value of a bit. Or maybe she thought she was being punished for doing something bad, unaware that her punishment didn’t fit the crime. More and more scenarios ran through Fine’s head, each one more damning than the last.
He started to reconsider the idea of slicing the bastard’s throat in his sleep. Yet again, he pushed down his anger. Baba Groot would get what he had coming… in time.
Fine continued his investigation, scanning every nook and cranny of the building. He found the zebra’s financial stash hidden behind a worn, grey landscape painting. Baba Groot wasn’t rich, but he certainly wasn’t suffering. Fine helped himself to a pile, using a worn curtain as a makeshift pouch, which he deposited by the back door while he continued his rounds.
It was in the kitchen that Fine discovered Baba Groot’s criminal activities hadn’t stopped once he reached Equestria. Realizing one of the countertops was unusually clean, he managed to locate a small handle. A large section of the countertop popped off with minimal effort, and there he found more papers. These, he realized after some inspection, were invoices for some particularly rare goods: firebird eggs, a brand of poison joke extract called Blue Wild, cases of Eagle Paw wine, stolen museum pieces, even an invoice for a gun, truly a rarity. It wasn’t all illegal, but whatever wasn’t had extremely restrictive trade requirements and cost a fortune on the regular market. And looking at those prices…
Baba Groot was a smuggler. And, judging by the names on the invoices, he still had connections in Grypha. It seemed Fine had stumbled on just one piece of a larger operation. Smirking, he took only one of the sheets of paper, making sure it had enough information to lure authorities to this house, and also making sure it was in the middle of the stack so as to not likely be missed. That done, he slipped the countertop back in place and made for the back door.
The police would be finding something very interesting in their mailbox come morning.
Days later, Fine sat at the café across from the monument yet again. A nice pasta of glazed almonds, spinach, alfalfa, and grilled mushrooms sat half-eaten before him, courtesy of Baba Groot’s ‘confiscated’ funds. The same meal sat in a to-go box on the other side of the table, ready to be delivered to Sunflower. The foal was working by the monument, as ignored as ever by the local businessponies.
More than a few eyed her not-quite-healed bruises. Fine half-expected child services to show up at any moment, yet as the minutes passed his hope went unrewarded.
Fine was back to his regular colors and with his mane dyed to the usual black – this time applied legally at the same barber shop he’d stolen from, with a big tip to the proprietor. He’d done another hotel run and was looking like a million bits in a crisp black suit. Though he looked and smelled great, he couldn’t help feeling like trash.
Every day, Baba Groot took from Sunflower. Every time he did, and every night by the fire, Sunflower would stare at the horn she’d taken from Fine. Her manner grew darker with every passing day.
What had Fine done? He watched. He’d yet to do anything meaningful for the filly, much less get Sugarcube’s horn back, and that ate away at his insides. He stared at Sunflower, not even bothering to hide his interest. Every time he saw that horn around her neck, he could see her standing before a dark doorway, her ears perked to whispered words of comfort and promise. She stood at the threshold, staring within, contemplating the darkness. It would be so easy, wouldn’t it?
Fine wanted to slam that door closed. He wanted to drag her away from it, no matter how much she kicked and screamed. That horn was the key to the doorway, and he had to get it away from her. Problem was, it wasn’t the only key; taking it away was a temporary solution. Besides, if he did try to take the horn and bar her way, would that not just encourage her to try harder? Would she just find another door, equally ominous and full of temptation?
He couldn’t let her go in. He couldn’t let her join him in the darkness. He had to make her understand that once you were in, you never came out.
But how to do that?
“It’s all wrong.”
Fine blinked, his black thoughts shattered by a familiar voice. Ignoring the way his stomach had been tied in knots over the last few minutes, he sat up and realized that he had company.
White coat, orange mane. The expectant mother.
Not expecting anymore.
She sat on the cushion perpendicular to Fine’s spot at the table, slumped forward and shoulders sagged. Mane and tail tangled, coat uncombed, eyes bloodshot, just like her husband earlier in the week. No, worse than that; she appeared haggard and perhaps even malnourished. He had simply been… downtrodden.
“The world seems so nice,” she whispered. “Then the rug is swept out from under you, and you find yourself on a street corner selling flowers just to get by.”
Fine had no idea what to say. There was no need to ask what had happened, but somehow expressing sympathy for a dream lost seemed… pointless. So he just sat and listened. That was something, right?
“I’ve lived a very fortunate life,” she continued, never taking her eyes off Sunflower. “Never hungry, never needed money, good schooling. Everything was perfect. Now I… I wonder if all that good was just balance for the one big hit.”
Why was she even saying this to him? Because she recognized him and needed somepony to talk to? What about… “Where’s…” Fine bit his lip as her bloodshot eyes shifted to him. “I mean… um…”
“He works.” Her gaze fell back to Sunflower. “It helps him cope.”
Fine stared at his food and said nothing.
“Is that for her?”
She was looking at the to-go box. “Yes.”
The mare turned her head away, ears flat. “Why don’t you… do more for her?”
He sighed and leaned against the table. Oh, if only he could say. “What would I do? She flees from authority and I sure can’t take her in.”
“Why not?”
The question came so quickly that, even anticipating it, Fine was caught off guard. He focused on her once more, taking in her body language. Stiff shoulders, not meeting his eye, focused on Sunflower and…
Oh.
Fine pressed his hooves together atop the table and afforded his most ominous frown. An act, but he needed to get his message across. “Do you know what I am, miss? I’m the boogiepony.”
She turned to him at last, her confusion apparent. “You?”
“I had you pegged the first time I saw you.” He looked her up and down, pretending to inspect her. “Innocent, happy, trusting and sweet. I, on the other hoof, am the pony who smiles in your face and keeps a dagger ready in case you don’t buy it, and don’t be surprised if your wallet’s missing after the encounter.”
Her eyes grew steadily wider with every word, such that by now they were practically dinner plates. “B-but you look so—”
“Decent?” He snorted and turned his eyes to Sunflower. “Don’t they all? I’m a bad pony, Miss Sweet Treat.”
“How did you—”
He raised his hoof and her teeth clicked. His eyes didn’t leave Sunflower. “You know why I do what little I do, but can’t take her in? Because I’m a monster. I hate what I am, and I am not about to drag that filly down with me.” He stood and put down some coins, enough for a substantial tip to the waiter. He looked to Sweet Treat, who fidgeted under his gaze.
“I know what you want to do. I suggest you do it soon. Sunflower is at the precipice of leading my kind of life, and will take the last step if somepony doesn’t intervene. That somepony cannot be me.” He set a hoof to her shoulder, ignoring her flinch. “I know you’re hurting right now. I know you’re afraid that you’re letting your emotions get the better of you. Even if your motivations are selfish… I think life owes that filly a favor. There’s nothing wrong with being selfish every now and then.”
He turned and walked away. “My condolences to you and your husband.”
He didn’t look back, for it would ruin the image, but as soon as he was behind the next building he broke into a gallop. Not caring a whit about the ponies he shoved aside, he ran around the entire building and only stopped when he was halfway down the alleyway heading back to the street. He took a moment to catch his breath, removed his coat, and ran his hooves through his mane. Taking off a disguise wasn’t much of a disguise, but it might be enough.
That done, he walked to the end of the alleyway and leaned against the wall, just a stranger relaxing. He had a good view of the monument and Sunflower, and if he leaned his head just a little…
There was Sweet Treat, still staring at where he’d been sitting not a minute before. As much as he didn’t care to, Fine thanked Celestia for letting him remember her name. Now he just had to hope his words had struck a chord.
Time passed. Sweet Treat eventually turned her attention back to Sunflower, but the mare’s depression was replaced by a clear anxiety. Her ears flicked to some unknown rhythm and she tried, more than once, to stand. Every time she would catch herself and sit back down. Fine cursed to himself every time. “Come on,” he said beneath his breath. “Come on, get up.”
Sweet Treat bowed her head with a defeated expression, and for a moment Fine feared the worst. Then her ears perked; she’d spotted the to-go box he’d left behind. Fine held his breath.
Seconds passed. Maybe minutes.
At last, Sweet Treat grabbed the box. Fine grinned as she stood and crossed the street, her steps tentative and her head low. Sunflower saw her coming and waved. Her lips moved, but Fine couldn’t hear what she was saying from such a distance. He could imagine it easily enough; a vendor greeting a regular customer.
Sweet Treat set the box down before Sunflower. When she spoke, the filly’s eyebrows rose and she eyed the box. Sunflower waved her hooves in denial, cheeks going pink, but Sweet Treat nudged the box with a smile. Slowly, as if her hooves were tied to weights, Sunflower took the box and set it next to her pack. She wouldn’t meet the mare’s gaze.
Fine leaned forward, barely breathing. “Ask the question. Come on…”
Whatever Sweet Treat said next, it caught Sunflower’s attention. The filly’s eyes grew wide once more and she took a step back. Sunflower sat, perhaps trying to appear less intimidating, but it mattered not; Sunflower shook her head frantically. Already she had her pack open, tossing in her things as fast as she could. Sweet Treat raised her hooves in a calming – or perhaps imploring – gesture. It made no difference. Within seconds, Sunflower had thrown her pack on her back and was in full retreat down the sidewalk.
Fine turned his head to watch her go, jaw hanging loose. He’d just handed that kid a way out on a silver platter, and she just… ran away?
Anger began to bubble beneath the surface of his mind. He jerked his head to Sweet Treat, who hadn’t moved. She merely sat with her head so low it nearly touched the cement, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Follow her, you stupid…” He stepped into the alley, teeth grinding and shoulders heaving. He stomped, stomped again, reared forward and bucked the brick wall. It hurt, but it was a good hurt. His eyes went up to the sun. “What the buck does it take for a bad pony to do something good for a change, huh?”
He caught movement in the corner of his eye. He looked just in time to see Sweet Treat running in the same direction that Sunflower had gone. She was carrying something in her mouth…
The can. Sunflower had left her can of bits.
A tiny sliver of hope ran through Fine. He grabbed hold of it and refused to let go, trotting out of the alley and following. He would make sure the mare didn’t lose her way. Whatever happened, he would make this work.
To Fine’s intense relief, they reached Horseshoe Park without a hitch. He kept back so as to not be noticed and was pleased to see that Sweet Treat was doing the same thing to Sunflower. Her hiding was amateur – it took all Fine’s willpower not to walk up and offer suggestions – but it sufficed to keep her hidden from the filly. The mare paused to stare at the dilapidated sign at the entrance, and though Fine couldn’t see her face the droop of her head said enough.
They walked along decrepit paths, the setting sun hidden by the thick trees that filled much of the park. Fine crept along, ever the shadow, while Sweet Treat possessed all the stealth of a dragon, her hooves crunching over the gravel. He imagined that only the distance between her and Sunflower kept the filly from taking note of her. Sunflower herself had slowed to a mere walk long ago, head and shoulders slumped and hooves dragging. It wasn’t a walk of exhaustion.
Fine saw him first: Baba Groot. The zebra was hiding in the treeline by the path. He made no move to intercept Sunflower, but that didn’t keep the hair on Fine’s back from rising. Fine slipped into the cover of darkness and waited, anger already rising within him.
Baba Groot didn’t notice Sweet Treat – or she him – until after he’d stepped from the treeline. Sweet Treat paused abruptly, can still in her mouth, and he jumped as if she’d just screeched in his face. The two stared at one another, but it didn’t last. Sweet Treat’s attention went back to Sunflower, who just turned off on the path to the overhang, and tried to hurry after her.
The zebra stepped in front of her, his eyes hard. “What do we have here?” He reached for the can, but Sweet Treat backed away. “Where’d you get the can?”
A moment’s hesitation, and Sweet Treat put the can down to speak. “Do you… know Sunflower?”
Before she could react, he snatched the can and looking inside. “Not a big payout today. Buck, and right when I needed it most.”
“What are you doing?” Sweet Treat took a tentative step forward. “Sunflower worked hard for those bits!”
“These are mine!” Baba Groot stomped closer and loomed over the mare, who promptly backed away in a crouched position. “You best get out of here, stupid pony, before you get hurt.”
It seemed as though Sweet Treat would do as she was told, but then something changed. She stood tall and matched the zebra glare for glare, though the wobble in her legs was obvious even from Fine’s position down the path. Fine didn’t like where this was going; he crept forward, keeping to the darkness and ready for just about anything.
“Give me back the can, or I’ll—”
“What?” Baba Groot stomped closer, getting right in her face. “What will you do, huh?”
Fine gritted his teeth; Baba Groot was in a perfect position to spot him if he moved or ignited his horn. He kept perfectly still, barrel to the ground and legs tensed. Let this end peacefully…
The zebra’s leg shot up; Sweet Treat was on the ground before she even had a chance to shout. Her head had snapped sideways from the blow, and she was looking right at Fine as a result. The two locked eyes, hers filled with pain and surprise, his with just surprise. She started to stand, but Baba Groot delivered a kick against the back of her head, which snapped down and whacked the dirt. Her body went limp.
“Great, add assault to my charges,” Baba Groot grumbled, picking up the can. Apparently not noticing Fine, he turned and galloped after Sunflower. As soon as his back was turned, Fine hurried to Sweet Treat.
She was breathing, but unconscious. Fine saw no blood and he had no way of knowing if she was seriously hurt or just temporarily out of action. He looked down the path, then back at Sweet Treat, guilt and anger and uncertainty playing a game of tug-of-war in his mind.
It was Baba Groot’s words that finally solidified his thoughts. Add assault to his charges? But he wasn’t charged for anything in Equestria… was he? Possibilities swarmed through Fine’s mind at a mile a minute until, finally, one jerked to the forefront. If the police had finally come after Baba Groot because of the evidence Fine delivered to them, he’d be on the run. And if he was one the run…
…what business did he have left with Sunflower?
That thought was enough to kick Fine into gear. He galloped after the zebra, all fears for Sweet Treat’s situation replaced with a very real horror. One way or another, he knew that this time he had to act. His hooves pounded the dirt and gravel in time with his rapid heartbeat as he thought on the past two weeks. The way he’d watched that poor little filly struggle just to get by, how he’d grown to root for her, the way he’d been secretly supporting her. He cursed himself again and again for standing on the sidelines so long.
“Keep away from me!”
Fine slid to a halt; he was right at the bend leading to the overhang, and that had certainly been Sunflower. Mind working fast, Fine slipped into the trees and made his way towards the voices; it was time he used his stealth for something other than hiding.
Baba Groot snorted. “What do you think you’re going to do with that little poker? Come on then, give it a go! Let’s see what ya got.”
Fine increased his pace as he realized that he may be too late. He’d just have to hope the zebra was too distracted to hear the noise.
Sunflower shouted in pain. The sound nearly froze Fine’s heart.
“That’s what I figured. You little zit! I came here to tell you to keep your yap shut about me before I slipped off the map, but now? I think I’ll drown you in the bucking bay!”
Fine reached the road. Baba Groot stood over Sunflower, who was crawling away. She had blood on her lips and Sugarcube’s horn lay useless in the dirt before her.
“I bet it’s your fault the Equestrian scumbags are crawling around my place right now, huh?” Baba Groot stalked after her, lips pulled back to give him a vicious visage. “I should have cut off your hoof when I first caught you stealing. Well, now I’ll settle for the whole—”
Fine leapt from the shadows the moment the zebra was in the right position. Baba Groot noticed, but too late; Fine’s left hoof smacked the side of his head. Fine reared back to deliver a second blow, which the fast-thinking zebra blocked. Baba Groot didn’t get another chance; Fine shot a beam from his horn, the most basic of unicorn defenses, and got him in the eye.
Baba Groot screamed and jumped back, covering his face with both hooves. Fine saw his opening and delivered a two-legged buck right in the bastard’s gut; the zebra collapsed in a fetal position. Fine grabbed his head and lifted it.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
On the third time his head impacted the ground, Baba Groot went limp. Fine dropped him and inspected the zebra. Still breathing.
Satisfied his work was done, he turned to discover Sunflower lying on her back and gaping at him. The adrenaline fading, Fine merely stared at the filly. His breath came in slow gasps and steam billowed from his nostrils, but his anger was rapidly fading to anxiety. He’d revealed himself, so… what now?
Sunflower blinked, seeming to come out of a trance, and the first thing she did was turn around and grab the horn from the dirt. When she turned back, there was so much anger in her expression that it outright pierced Fine’s heart. She gave him one short, suspecting look, and then charged for the unconscious zebra. As soon as she got there, she sat back and raised the horn, prepared to stab it into Baba Groot’s head.
Fine’s rosewood aura wrapped about the horn just in time. Sunflower struggled with it, pulling and grunting and growling as she fought to deliver the killing blow. Fine felt his heart breaking at the sight… but no, it wasn’t too late. He’d stopped her. And now…
He approached, looming over Sunflower. He made sure to maintain as intimidating a posture as he could, head held high and eyes hard. His message had to be delivered loud and clear. One slip up here could mean the soul of a foal.
“Let go!” Sunflower glared up at him, her hooves still clutching the horn. “He has it coming!”
Fine glanced at the horn, then locked eyes with her. “That belongs to me.”
She paused, brow furrowing. She looked to the horn, then to him, then to the horn again. Understanding dawned on her face and she jerked away from Fine with a gasp. Tail tucked between her legs, she trembled at the edge of the path.
Fine raised the horn so that it hovered just beside his face. “This horn belonged to the very first pony I killed. It’s important to me, and I don’t appreciate you taking it.”
Sunflower whimpered and crouched low, her eyes like saucers.
He floated the horn towards her, and her eyes focused on it as it hovered just before her face. “Do you know what this horn represents, Sunflower?” A pause to wait for an answer he knew wouldn’t come. “It represents pain and suffering, not just for those I hurt, but also for me. I walked a very bad path when I was your age. I had no choice.”
The aura faded and the horn fell to the ground at her hooves. Sunflower leaned back a little, still trembling.
At last, Fine let his harsh expression drop. He looked upon her with all the concern he truly felt. “Look at me, Sunflower.”
Her eyes jerked from the horn and locked with his.
Fine prayed to Celestia that his words would seep through.
“You have a choice. You don’t have to walk down the same road as me. That path is one of shadows and darkness and endless pain. If that’s the road you want to walk down—” he gestured to the zebra lying at his hooves, “—you be my guest. He’s all yours.”
He went quiet, letting the idea seep into her. Sunflower stared at him, no longer shaking. Her eyes went to the horn, uncertain and fearful.
“But,” he went on just as it looked like she would reach for the item, “you have a choice. There’s a mare here, right now, in the park. You know her. She gives you bits at the monument every time you go there.” Her eyes widened once more, but he pressed on before she could speak. “She can give you a better life, if you would only give her a chance. I don’t know why you’re living out here, but you don’t have to.”
He stepped forward, and Sunflower stepped back in turn, another whimper escaping her throat. Yet all he did was bow his head to look her in the eye. “I’m asking you to give that mare a chance. Please, Sunflower. There are already enough monsters in Equestria. You don’t need to be one too.”
Silence. Sunflower stared into his eyes, and he into hers. The horn lay between them, simple and innocuous and pointing right at her. At last, after what seemed an eternity, the filly spoke.
“Have you been watching me this whole time?”
He nodded.
“Will you still watch me?”
He shook his head.
“Even if I… take the horn?”
“I’m not going to watch you become a monster,” he whispered. “And if you take the other path you’ll be a lot happier without somepony like me around.”
She looked at the horn. “But… I’m tired of being hurt.”
He set a hoof under her chin, making her look him in the eye again. “Being able to hurt doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt. It just means there’s more hurt to go around.” He nodded to the horn. “That has caused me a lot of pain, Sunflower. I promise, it will hurt you too.”
A long, quiet pause. Sunflower’s gaze kept shifting between Fine and the horn, and sometimes to Baba Groot’s unconscious form. She chewed her lip and fidgeted constantly. Finally, her horn began to glow, and she lifted Sugarcube’s horn in a flickering aura. Fine tensed, worry and hope swirling chaotically in his mind as the horn hovered between the two of them.
Sunflower heaved a deep breath…
Then threw the horn towards the bay.
“Hey!” Fine, heart smacking against his ribs, jumped as if to catch it, but was too slow. Acting on reflex, he lit his horn and just managed to catch the thing before it could hit the water. He spun around back to Sunflower and pointed at the rescued horn. “What the hay was that?”
Sunflower crouched once more at his glare. “Y-you said it hurts you. I th-thought…”
With a sigh, Fine let the necklace drop over his head. The weight of the horn against his chest was both comfortable and sickening at once. “It’s too late for me, Sunflower. Even if I lost the horn, my pain wouldn’t stop.” He tapped the horn, which swayed like a pendulum at his touch. The familiar motion made him smile.
He turned that smile on the filly. “Thank you. I was afraid for a moment.”
She bowed her head and turned her eyes on the zebra. “What about him?”
Fine’s ears perked to a sound in the distance. “Don’t worry about him. I promise, he won’t bother you again.”
Sunflower looked up at him… and her eyes went wide at his sneering grin. “W-what are you gonna do?”
Fine merely tapped Sugarcube’s horn… then turned to trot into the trees.
“Sunflower!”
The filly bounced and spun around as the sound of galloping hoofsteps grew louder. Fine peered through the brush as Sweet Treat came to a stop before the filly, gasping for breath and eyes wide. She tried to speak but couldn’t manage to get any words out. Sunflower backed away slowly, tail tucked between her legs. Her eyes shifted towards Fine, however, and upon seeing him her legs stiffened.
“P-please don’t run,” Sweet Treat at last managed to huff out. “Are you okay? Th-that brute didn’t… didn’t hurt you, did he? Oh, please say no!”
“I… I’m okay.” Sunflower’s ears folded back as she looked up at the mare. “Are you?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Sweet Treat sucked down a deep breath, at last regaining her energy and being able to speak somewhat normally. She promptly pointed at Baba Groot. “What happened to him?”
Fine tensed, but Sunflower managed to avoid looking at him. Barely. “He… uh… hit his head. On the bench.”
“Is he the one who’s been hurting you?”
Sunflower sank a little lower, eyes trained on the ground.
Sweet Treat grimaced, but then her anger faded to curiosity. She tilted her head and looked around, taking in the leaning sign, the little fire pit and the overhang. Her curiosity gradually shifted to pity. “Do you live here?”
The filly sank to her barrel and covered her face.
“Sunflower…” Sweet Treat dropped to the ground and reached for the child, but Sunflower noticed and promptly shuffled back from her touch. Retracting the hoof swiftly, Sweet Treat pouted. “Please. I don’t know why you’re so scared, but come with me. You don’t need to be here.”
Sunflower’s eyes drifted to Fine. He tried to offer his most imploring expression.
Her eyes dropped to the earth once more. “I don’t wanna hurt anymore.”
“You won’t.” Sweet Treat half reached for the filly, her lip trembling. “I promise, Sunflower, you won’t.”
Fine watched with bated breath.
Sunflower stared at the offered hoof.
Sweet Treat’s breathing was deep, her eyes pleading.
It came slowly, but Sunflower began to sob. “I-I’m scared…”
“I know,” Sweet Treat whispered, shuffling just a little closer.
Sunflower’s hoof rose, but she hesitated. “You… you really won’t hurt me?”
Sweet Treat gasped, then moved in. Sunflower yelped as she was engulfed in a sudden, tight hug and began to squirm. “N-no!”
“I’ll never hurt you,” the mare whispered, tears streaming from her eyes. “I promise, I would never, ever hurt you. Never, Sunflower.”
The filly ceased her struggling, her cheek pressed tight to Sweet Treat’s chest and her body trembling. She said nothing, but her gaze was locked upon her captor’s face in a state of awe.
Fine, a smile creeping upon his lips, slipped deeper into the undergrowth.