The Witch

by Zodiac

Chapter II: Of the Harmfulness of Smoking Tobacco

“The vile witches, vixens, and harlots hide behind the supposed code of honour of theirs. Falsehood it is and nothing more, for it is known that these mares have no honour, nor do they agnize any values, and fit only for spilling blood they are.”
—Anonym, “Monstrum, or Portrayal of the Witch”

---

Chapter Two: “Of the Harmfulness of Smoking Tobacco”

He ran as fast as he could. He panted heavily and limped, but ran, nevertheless. The dark sky sealed up above his head, and demonic shapes reached out for him with their talons, their jaws twisted in mocking smiles.

In the dark, the eyes of a thousand beasts pierced him like arrows and chilled him to the very bones. Still he ran, for that was the only thing left for him to do.

Those which inhabited the darkness shouted, snarled, rattled and yelled after him. They wanted to catch him, and it was only a matter of time before they succeeded. And the darkness had plenty of time. Its victory was already foregone, and now it was only toying with its victim.

He ran, despite his injured leg, the oozing blood drawing more of the Darkness’s servants towards him. He knew he had lost. He knew that the blackness, enclosing above his head, was the lid of the coffin, in which he we will be forever buried. He knew that, and yet he could not accept such a fate.

So he ran.

Exhaustion started to come into play. His breaths became heavier, his legs started to fail him, along with his heart. His eyes were full of tears, and his mind started to go crazy.

He tripped.

He had no idea, over what he had tripped over. He just fell flat on the ground and rolled over a few times. The injured leg started to hurt even more, making it impossible to continue running. He tried to get up, using a nearby tree for support. He gripped it and picked himself up.

He stood for a moment, panting and sobbing quietly. Then he finally raised his eyes.

He went pale and fell to the ground. Tens of eels started to wriggle in his entrails, clearly trying to get out; one of them was on the right track to do exactly that. His heart began to beat wildly, his mouth went dry.

The wolf-shaped tree had eyes.

Sky blue eyes that were looking at him.

---

“Nothing?” Veks asked, tamping his pipe. It was night already, and his shop was closed since Chromia returned in the evening. Now they both sat in the living room, located in the residential part of the building. It was a small room, with a simple fireplace, a table and two rocking chairs, currently occupied by the pair. “You didn’t find out anything?”

Chromia muttered something under her breath. “Only that Stained Banner wasn’t beaten up by some local thugs. This case is awfully suspicious and fishy.”

“Then why do you poke around it?”

“So I can earn more in one night than you do during the entire month,” she answered with a slight smile.

Veks gave her a cold look and muttered something under his breath. She didn’t exactly understand what.

“So you’re going to the plowing forest tomorrow?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “First thing in the morning. I’ll find Banner’s dead body and return as fast as I can. Maybe I’ll even get half of the reward, who knows.”

“You won’t get a broken bit,” the unicorn replied. “Quite the contrary. When Banner gets pissed off—”

“Then what?” the witch cut in. “You said yourself that guy doesn’t mean a thing in this town. Did you suddenly change your mind?”

“No. But I’ll tell you something—those bandits, who attacked you, they also didn’t mean a thing. Maybe in the Underwall, but not in the rest of the town. But they still attacked you, and could have killed you. And Banner has much more means to do that. Take that motherbucking idiot Gladius for example. I’d watch out, if I were you.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she said, observing the starry night through the window.

Veks also looked at it, having a puff. One of the stars fell. The witch and the shopkeeper made a wish. They both knew it was stupid and superstitious. But it was also something beautiful. Wishes. Veks tended to wish a lot. They were all wonderful wishes, but unfeasible. That is, this time he wished for something much closer to reality.

Chromia, on the other hoof, didn’t wish for anything too often. Usually only for something to eat, a place to sleep, or payment for a finished job. She wasn’t too emotional. She wasn’t a dreamer. But, just this once, things were different.

“Do you have a washtub here?” she asked.

“Sure. In the room next to my bedroom. Do you want to… ?”

“Yes,” Chromia answered. She stood up and left the room.

Veks was left alone, with only his thoughts and doubts keeping him company. He was scared, more than ever.

The stallion got up, neared the window and leaned on the window-sill. He looked at the sky, with the full moon shining brightly and speckled with stars. And he moaned about the past. Again.

The town was alive with its nightlife. From afar, one could hear the drunken songs of someone definitely having a grand time. Cats reigned supreme on the rooftops and back alleys. One also could not ignore the mating call of some mare.

A night like every other, Veks though, and sighed heavily.

“Not today,” he said after a moment.

---

Chromia was lying in the bathtub, her head above the hot water. The room was illuminated by a few candles standing on the shelves, next to the soap. Hot air evaporated from the tub, blanketing the room in a gentle mist. The witch relaxed her muscles and closed her eyes, just like during meditation. Yet this time she was doing something different, something she had not done for a long time.

She was relaxing.

Chromia rarely had time for such a thing. The road, the fighting, survival—those were her priorities, and her life did not leave much room for moments like this one. She usually bathed in lakes or rivers, not tubs.

The witch let her body and mind rest.

She noticed someone coming in only when she heard the sound of opening doors. Veks entered the room.

The tobacco dealer took a few steps forward, with fright in his eyes and a stone face. He approached the back of the tub and came to a standstill. He was silent, searching for the right words, which he could not find. Or maybe he could, but was simply afraid to say them out loud?

“I thought… ” Chromia started, rising form the water, “that you would never come.”

“You were expecting me?” Veks felt surprised. He tried not to look Chromia in the eyes.

“Veks… ” the witch raised the stallion’s chin, “a kick in the butt is more subtle that the signs you’ve been giving me.”

“Oh.” Veks felt stupid. “And… you’re laughing again.”

True, Chromia giggled slightly. Her hoof touched Veks’ cheek. The pair gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment. Silence filled the room; one could even hear the beating of Veks’ heart. The witch and salespony continued their wordless exchange of looks. Second seemed to be minutes, minutes turned into hours.

At last their heads started to slowly get closer, and finally they shared a deep, passionate kiss, which lasted even longer than the silence.

Chromia’s hooves fell back on Veks’ neck. The stallion embraced the witch with one hoof. Chromia leaned back, falling into the water and pulling Veks with her. He landed on the mare, now holding her back with both hooves. Their kiss lasted for a while longer.

Their gazes, filled with gleefulness, met again.

“You’ve been waiting?”

“For a long time.”

This time before they kissed, Veks’ shirt disappeared faster than he could ever take it off himself. Their lips touched again. Veks’ hoof slid down lower on Chromia’s back; the witch pulled the stallion closer.

Half of the water from the tub was gone. It didn’t matter.

Veks disposed of the rest of his clothing and gave himself over to the moment, just like Chromia. A magic moment, that began awkwardly, but from which happiness sprouted.

A moment that lasted for the whole night.

---

The morning was crispy and refreshing. A light, cold wind fanned Chromia’s face, as she left the city walls. A delicate mist blanketed the ground like a duvet. The Sun hasn’t risen yet, but the morning was bright already.

The witch trotted in a good mood after last night. The case she currently had at hoof seemed meaningless for a moment, giving way to more pleasant thoughts.

Everything burst like a soap bubble, when the witch arrived at her destination.

The mighty wall of the Everfree Forest stood before Chromia. Large trees with unnatural, dark colours and terrifying shapes greeted the travellers, threatening and warning them not to dare enter the woods. The darkness that ruled behind the first row of trees was downright mystic and supernatural, repulsive and appalling.

The sounds she heard while standing at the edge of the Forest were enough to make not one dare-devil turn pale. The growling, wheezing and roaring could be heard even from afar.

They did not impress Chromia. She had heard them many a time before.

The witch sat, with her back turned towards the Forest, and pulled out her potions. She uncorked and drank two of them: red and cyan. After a moment she also drank the green one. Then she focused herself and waited for the elixirs to begin working.

Seconds passed. At last she started to notice the changes. Her blood started to flow faster through her veins, her pulse rate quickened. The zebra’s senses sharpened; her ears were able to hear more of the wood’s sounds, her nose began to sense more smells. She felt a weak, tingly sensation in her stomach and forehead.

Chromia’s face started to turn pale, accentuating the veins. Her ears started to quaver a bit, her nostrils widened. The witch opened her eyes, which were now black and had blue pupils.

Chromia wiped the sweat of her forehead and got up. She turned around and looked at the Everfree Forest. “The fun begins,” she said.

The witch entered the woods.

---

The trees were curved in grotesque, odd shapes, resembling some kind of hideous monsters, wanting to catch passers-by with their talons. Darkness reigned in the forest. Despite the early hour, the world amidst the woods was covered in nightly dark. But that wasn’t a problem for Chromia. Thanks to her specialized eyes and elixirs, she could comfortably loiter in the forest.

After drinking the potions, the witch’es ears were able to pick up all the strange sounds Everfree offered. Creaking, howling, cawing and growling. Chromia could hear something walking on the forest cover. Scratching the tree bark. Tearing meat to pieces. And she had a feeling that last sound will lead her straight to Stained Banner.

While passing next to another tree, she noticed something on the ground. Chromia stopped down to take a closer look. It was a piece of clothing, most likely a linen shirt. Chromia was certain she just found a clue. And even more convinced that the young noble was dead.

The cloth scrap was soaked with blood.

She picked it up and moved on.

She came across more traces of Banner’s supposed murderers—timberwolves. The witch knew they were the most common beasts in the Everfree Forest. In a way it suited her—she could acquire a few useful alchemical ingredients from them. Still, the idea of fighting a whole horde of timberwolves was not an optimistic one.

She walked next to another claw-scratched tree, and found more blood traces. By their smell, temperature and texture she judged that the blood was fresh.

“Looks like someone ate their dinner here not a long time ago,” she muttered under her breath. Her eyes followed the bloody trail, which went deeper into the forest.

She followed it, and in a few minutes she heard the buzzing of flies. She also heard sounds of growling and smelled stench. Pulling her sword out, she continued her walk. The blood led her to a small clearing, on which a body lied. Chromia came closer to it.

The victim was grey, tall, with a long, black mane. And he was not a pony. The long ears and tail clearly stated that lying in front of Chromia was a dead…

“Donkey?” The witch could not hide her amazement.

She had heard and felt them since a while. But only now did they show up. They came out of the woods from all sides. Chromia raised her sword and looked around.

Ghouls.

Undead monsters. Terrifying creatures, eating corpses of the dead, with a taste for the living as well. They poured from behind the trees like a flood. Blackened, half-rotten ponies, lacking coats, but with yellowish, blunt teeth, red eyes and ragged to the bone hooves, which now served them as weapons. They came from among the trees, attracted by the smell of blood. And by Chromia, who was supposed to become their newest victim.

The witch took a few steps back and judged her situation. The ghouls were large in number, she did not have to time to count them all. The monsters approached Chromia, baring their teeth. Snarling and rattling.

Chromia raised her sword again, stood astride and waited for the first ghoul to attack.

She did not have to wait long.

The first creature charged and leaped upon her. Chromia whirled around and cut with her sword, when the ghoul was still in the air. Before she turned back to face the rest of them, a dead body was already lying on the ground. But this was only the beginning.

The remaining monsters lunged on Chromia en masse, furiously brandishing their bony hooves. The witch deflected the strikes deftly and quickly disposed of another ghoul, slicing its head off and shoving away the rest of the body with a kick.

Chromia rolled over to avoid the monsters next attacks and cut them in the back. Red dew besprinkled the nearby grass, but the ghouls had no intention of giving up. They turned around and advanced at the mare once again. More of the undead also attacked from different sides. The zebra decided to use the whirlwind technique and, with constant spins, kill as many enemies as she could.

The monsters were strong and had numerical superiority, but they were stupid. Chromia’s strategy, though temporary, turned out being quite effective. Thanks to the witch’es well-aimed cuts, three of the ghouls were already put out of the battle. But there still were many left.

Chromia jumped away from the mass, but one of the ghouls was lurking behind her and, just as the witch was about to kill another of its brethren, it hit her in the back. The witch lost balance and had to roll over not to become mauled by the beasts.

She did not feel any pain, not now. Instead she felt anger, growing fury and bloodlust.

The potion’s working well, she thought.

The ghouls attacked again. This time part of them was pushed away with the Aard Word. The undead, hit with the power of the spell, flew away from the witch for several meters. The rest of them paid no heed to their brothers fate and advanced on the mare.

The first one raised its bony front hooves, preparing to strike. With one short cut, the witch took away its limbs. She then kicked the crippled ghoul, and sliced another one in the throat.

One of the ghouls hit her. This time in the shoulder. The force of the blow turned Chromia around, but she used the sudden movement to make a pirouette and slice the beast’s belly open. She jumped back to catch a breath. She felt the blood from her wounded back dribble on her flank. The last hit also hurt her shoulder.

But Chromia was too close to victory to give up.

It was her time to charge at the undead. The first one was set on fire with the Igni Word, and bisected with a vertical strike. There were only four ghouls left. One of them swiped at the witch with its hoof, but she dodged it. Chromia slammed the beast in the back with her sword’s handle, pushing it away. The next one leaped onto her, brandishing rotten teeth. Its jaw meet with Chromia’s furious kick; right after that, she pierced its head with her sword.

The lasting trio of ghouls encircled her; one from behind and two from up front.

The witch waited.

All the ghouls attacked at the same moment. Chromia knew what to do. She swiped her sword backwards, piercing the first ghoul’s head. She used the strike’s impact to cut the skull of the next monster in half. The last one was just a formality. Performing another pirouette, the witch’es sword sliced the ghoul in its tendons. When the beast fell, Chromia decapitated it with a final, swift movement.

The fight was over. The witch had won.

She took a few deep breaths, calmed down. Then she looked at her work: the clearing covered in undead creatures blood. Her sword and clothes were also stained with red.

“Dammit,” she said to herself. “I’m gonna stink.”

She decided to use the occasion. Chromia approached the first ghoul, pulling out a small, empty vial. She crouched down, opened the beast’s mouth and put the vial inside, allowing it to fill. She acquired a valuable alchemical ingredient—the ghoul’s venom.

Next she approached the ghouls would-be dinner. The donkey was wearing a grey vest and a leather belt, to which a few throwing knives were attached. On his head was bandeau with a fox-brush pinned to it. Chromia noticed a letter, tucked between the best and vest. She pulled it out and started to read:

Dear Saro,

I am afraid our actions in town have come to an end. Yesterday Gladius arrested two of my subordinates. I did not expect them to start talking, but Galdius is not that stupid. He will follow the thread to the end, eventually.

We found the girl. She will trouble us no more. But I doubt that will do us anything good. It is becoming more and more difficult for me to hide, and I fear that my execution is no longer an “if”, but a “when”. I am sending a messenger with this news. May at least one of us survive.

For freedom!

Mandus

When Chromia finished reading, a lot of things became clear for her. Yet knowledge of the problem’s source was not enough. The answer was there. All one had to do was reach out his hoof.

The whole problem was to not lose that hoof in the process.

---

While scrambling through bushes and thickets, Chromia found more signs of Stained Banner. For example, a breastpin, lying on the ground. A nicely made one, with a gem inside—an amethyst, so it seemed. It surprised for, considering the Banner’s fortune or, for instance, the young noble’s calpac quality. The witch decided to take the find with her.

“Maybe this is what Rent Banner’s truly after?” she asked herself, looking at the breastpin. Her dragon-shaped amulet didn’t jerk in the slightest. So the brooch was not enchanted. Still, the witch checked it one more time, this time with the use of a Word. Nothing. The breastpin was just an adornment.

She looked around, searching for other possible clues. All she found were trees, scratched with claw marks. She was becoming more and more certain that she was looking for a corpse. Chromia was not even sure, if there will be enough of it for her to take to Rent Banner.

“Dammit, Veks was probably right,” she muttered. “The most I’ll get from Banner is a kick in the rear.”

Suddenly something moved among the trees. Like a shadow or ghost. Chromia impulsively took out her sword and took a defensive position. She looked around, pricking up her ears, but couldn’t hear anything near. She did not feel or see anything either.

She looked at her amulet, but it gave her no warning signals.

“Strange,” she concluded.

Chromia came back to her normal stand, but did not hide her blade.

---

The wolf attacked out of nowhere.

But Chromia knew it was nearby. She was just waiting for the beast to make an appearance.

The wolf attacked from behind, hoping to quickly kill the victim by sinking his fangs in her neck. The witch avoided the attack with a nimble spin and cut the creature in the leg. Drops of blood mottled the nearby tree and bush. The wolf turned towards Chromia and bore his fangs.

An arboreal wolf, one of the fiercest predators one can step across in Everfree. A hideous abomination, the hybrid of a timberwolf and flesh body. Tendons, muscles and veins covered a stick skeleton, creating a grisly monstrosity, whose only goal and desire was killing. Not even because of hunger, but pure bloodlust. No one knows how these creatures came into existence. Most believed them to be the creation of some necromancer, but that was not certain. It is certain though that they originated from timberwolves.

And it was certain that they were hellhounds. Twice the size of a pony, with a jaw big enough to fit a hoof. Or a head.

Chromia knew that the fight will not be an easy one.

The wolf attacked with his claws. The witch leaped back and started to parry the strikes with her sword. The wolf stopped the chaotic brandishing of his claws and jumped on Chromia. She rolled under the beast, avoiding its jaw.

But she failed to avoid its hind legs; the wolf made a kick like an earth pony. The witch was throw away a few metres. She quickly stood up and took a fighting stance.

The wolf snarled and growled. He stank like old, rotten carcass, and in his eyeholes two small balls of red burned like hellish circles.

The beast howled and attacked. Chromia waited for him to come closer, and when the wolf was just in front of her, she hit him with an Aard Word straight in the face. The monster came to a halt, stunned for a moment. The witch used that moment to chop off its leg.

The wolf’s pained roar filled the air, as he started to flounce. Chromia had to take a few steps back. Once the beast calmed down, it eyed the witch with hatred; Chromia only smiled lightly and whirled her sword two times.

The monster howled and attacked again, limping comically. Yet Chromia knew very well the beast was still dangerous. She leap away from the snapping maw and performed a horizontal swing, cutting the wolf in the side. That did now stop him.

He stood on his hind legs and leap onto Chromia. She did not run away this time. The witch crouched and waited for the right moment. When the wolf was above her, she straightened up, cutting the flesh-wood beast through the whole length of its belly. The wolf felt down, roaring and howling painfully. Chromia rolled away, covered in blood. She got up and faced the monster. The fight was not over yet.

The wolf got up and turned towards the witch, a pool of red already spreading underneath him. He snarled and advanced in a desperate attempt to kill the mare. Chromia shouted the Igni Word and send a flaming missile straight into the beast’s opened belly.

The wolf burst into flames. He started to bend and trash around, while the fire consumed him from the inside. His howls of pain were so loud Chromia’s ears started to hurt. The zebra quickly approached the beast and cut its head off with a swift move of her sword, sparing him the suffering and preserving the alchemical ingredient she wanted to gain.

The headless body felt to the ground and burned like a pile of sticks, sizzling and gurgling.

Chromia sighed with relief and started to extract the brain tissue from the wolf’s skull. It was not a complicated process; one had to only crack the wooden skull open and take out the brain, which resembled a large, glowing nut.

Once she was finished, the witch packed the ingredient in her bag. Then she put out the fire with an Aard Word and moved on.

She did not make it far.

Her medallion started to vibrate furiously, and moments later she heard the thumping of large paws, snarling and hawking, and caught the hideous smell of carcass. Another arboreal wolf. And, judging by the sounds, not one, but at least four of them.

She stood in place, with her knees bend, and waited. She did not try to run away or back up; that would have been pointless. She breathed slowly and listened intently to her surroundings. The snapping of branches was coming from behind her.

The wolf emerged from the shadows and tackled Chromia. The witch raised her sword, but never managed to attack, for another arboreal… no, a timberwolf jumped out from between the trees. Yet the beast varied from a typical timberwolf by two things: it was bigger, and its leaves and eyes shone with a pleasant, blue colour.

The newcome beast fell upon the arboreal wolf like a bolt of lightning and bit its head off. Chromia retreated to under a tree; more wolfs came out of their hiding spots and surrounded the strange timberwolf.

Chromia watched, as the creatures began fighting. The arboreal wolves tackled the timberwolf, but he shook them off with ease. He caught one of his opponents with his jaw and throw him at a nearby tree. Another one he decapitated with his claws, and he simply kicked the third one from behind.

All the time he was eyeing his opponents, not making a single sound.

One of the arboreal wolves charged at the timberwolf. The large beast jumped to the side and caught the opponent’s back with his fangs. He then started to chaotically shake his head, tearing the flesh-wood monster in half. The last arboreal wolf did to seem to be discouraged by his companions failure and bit the timberwolf in the leg. The timberwolf’s only reaction was to turn around, stand on his hind legs and crush the aggressor to the ground. Then he simply tore him apart.

Chromia looked in awe at the creature that saved her life. Still she did not trust it completely, and did not hide her sword when the wolf turned towards her.

The timberwolf approached the witch and tilted his head with interest.

“Um…” Chromia muttered, “thanks for helping me.”

To the witch’es further surprise, the wolf waggled his tail.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

The wolf shook its head.

“Then what do you want? Don’t tell me you saved me just because I was in danger.”

The wolf lowered his head and whined, feeling offended.

“All right, all right,” Chromia raised her hooves in defence. “You want to help, I understand. But why?”

The wolf came closer and sniffed the witch. Then he sat next to her and pointed with his head to his back.

“You want me to sit on you? Where do you want to take me?”

The timberwolf growled something quietly, but Chromia could not understand what it meant. She considered the proposition for a moment, eyeing the corpses of the arboreal wolves. The blood on the ground and trees. Her own injuries, patched up with a makeshift bandage.

“All right,” she said, mounting the wolf.

They wolf dashed through the woods at breakneck speed, perfectly avoiding all kinds of roots, bushes, embankments and thorn shrubs. Chromia, afraid she would fall off, held on with all her might, almost sinking her teeth into the wolf’s back. But she kept her teeth tightly clenched, and her eyes closed. The inside of her stomach was twirling and she had a feeling that soon she’ll see her breakfast for a second time.

The manic ride ended when the forest stopped being so dark. The trees bark and leaves colour in this part of Everfree were natural, the grass long and green. Sunrays shone through the branches, bathing the whole place in a mystical glare. Squirrels run along the trees, and the air was alive with the chirping of birds. From a far off clomp of grass, two little rabbits observed the witch with interest.

The wolf slowed down his run and was now slowly entering the mysterious oasis. Chromia used the chance to take a better look at its inhabitants. And there were all sorts of creatures amongst them, both predators and harmless animals. Wolves lied down next to rabbits, smaller timberwolves wondered here and there.

A druid’s grove, thought Chromia. I’m certain of that.

Chromia’s mount carried her to an enormous oak, towering above the other trees like a mountain. Its trunk was several meters high and at least a few meters thick. The foliage was home to many birds of all kinds. And, like on the ground, dangerous animals existed right next to the harmless ones.

But the most interesting habitants of the groove were the deers, both male and female. The stags we tall and bore big, respectful and awe-inspiring antlers, while the females were lean and extraordinary beautiful. Their beauty amazed even the witch.

When the timberwolf finally stopped, Chromia jumped off it, holding back the urge to vomit with titanic effort. When she recovered, an old stag approached her. He had a long, grey mane and beard. His antlers stood out from the ones of his brethren with their size and tortuosity.

“Welcome,” he said in a low voice. “Welcome to our groove, witch.”

“Greetings, hierophant,” Chromia bowed deeply. “It’s an honour.”

“Hmm,” he mused. “A honour… is that so?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You witches usually work against us. You kill what we try to protect, and destroy what we try to rebuild. You guard those, who hurt us, justifying it with protecting life, even though it is the very same life you are willing to take for a few coins.” The hierophant eyed Chromia with a cold look, and then started to stroke his long, gray-haired beard. “Yet you entered this forest with no intention to kill. You did not came here to exterminate more representants of endangered species. No, you came here for a different purpose. What kind?”

Chromia thought for a moment. She had doubts about this. But one look at the hierophant made it clear to her that there was no sense in lying. “I’m looking for someone.”

“In these woods? Surely you will admit yourself that this not the best place to hide.”

“The son of one of the town’s nobles has gone missing here. I was send to find him. If you know where he is, hierophant, please tell me.”

The stag eyes the zebra and motioned her to follow him.

“You ask for my help… and you shall receive it. Everyone is welcomed here. Even witches. However, this decision is not mine to make.”

Chromia felt small, walking next to the big stag. Very small. The fact that every other inhabitant of the groove was also taller than she did not help either.

“Not yours to make?” she asked, surprised. “I thought it was hierophants, who rule grooves like this one.”

“That is true,” he answered, going over some hare, who did not seem to mind the stag in the slightest. “But even though I lead this groove, it does not mean I do not have to or should not recognize someone greater than me.”

Greater, the witch thought. That’s a good one.

The stag led Chromia to a staircase leading under the giant oak, between his roots. Bright, green light shone from underneath, giving the whole place a fairy tale look and atmosphere.

“Down there you shall the answers you seek,” the hierophant said, gesturing towards the stairs.

Chromia did not hesitate and started to go down the stairs. They were not long, leading to a tunnel dug in the ground, ploughed with the oak’s roots. Chromia had to bend from time to time, to pass under, and sometimes jump over or push past them. The whole length of the tunnel was bathed in green light, coming from an unknown source.

The witch approached a room, placed right under the oak. Roots dangled from the ceiling and branched into the walls and ground. The chamber was large, with the tree’s roots forming something like a cottage. Or at least a cabin.

She was lying in its middle.

She was the size of an average pony, or slightly smaller. Her whole body was built of sticks and branches, but it would closer to the truth to say that her body was a branch. Light-pink leaves replaced her mane and tail.

Yet her eyes did not differ from a typical pony’s ones. The sky blue pupils gazed at Chromia with interest and wonder.

The witch concluded that she is facing the strangest wila she ever met.

“Oh… hello,” the wila said quietly. “You’re that witch, right?”

“Yes,” answered Chromia, slightly confused. “Do you rule this groove?”

“Rule?” she asked, surprised. “Oh, no! No. I only live here. And these deers treat me very nice. They listen to my advice.”

Chromia truly did not know, what to think.

“I don’t know why are you here. You didn’t come to the forest to hurt anyone, which was a pleasant surprise for us. But I still don’t know, why are you here.”

“My name is Chromia. I’m… looking for someone.”

“Who?”

“A young noble from the town was lost in these woods about a week ago. I’m here to find him.”

“Oh. Yes, he’s here, but… um… I don’t think he should leave,” the wila said, avoiding the witch’es eyes.

“Why?” the zebra asked.

“That town… it’s evil… now it’s evil. And… um… he should stay with us. In a better place. But don’t worry,” she added quickly, “he’ll feel good here. He will have food, water, a place to sleep. The deers and other animals will be nice to him, while the ponies in the city are… bad.”

The wile kept shifting her gaze and scratching the ground with her hoof, as if she was afraid of Chromia, like the zebra could do her harm. The witch thought she even seemed to be afraid to say that she won’t release Stained Banner. Was she scared Chromia might take him by force?

Or was she simply afraid to insult her?

“His father is looking for him,” Chromia said at last. “And he’s not someone who gives up easily. If I don’t bring his son back, he’ll send someone else here. Someone, who could harm the animals under your care. And if he comes back… how do you know he’ll also become evil? I have a… friend in town, who doesn’t like the things that are happening there just as much as you do.”

“Please,” she added after a moment.

The wila turned around and curled up. She started to scratch the ground with her hoof again.

“No,” she said finally. “I’m… I’m sorry, but no.”

“Can I at least talk to him?”

“Yes, of course. Ask the hierophant.”

The witch started to leave, but stopped at the chamber’s entrance. “Is that your final word?” she asked.

The wila thought for a long moment. “No.”

---

Stained Banner was lying on the grass, with his hooves behind his head. In his mouth was some kind of grass-stalk, which he sucked unceasingly. His clothes were torn and most of his body was covered only by leaves. Leaves, that were used as bandages. The stallion was almost coated whole in them.

The place in which he was resting was brightened by sunbeams, shining through the tree branches. He did not hear the witch approach.

“Are you Stained Banner?” Chromia asked.

The young stallion jumped, as if struck by lightning, when he heard the sudden voice. “Y-you…” he stuttered. “You’re not one of them… Are you from the town?”

“Something like that.”

“Praise the gods,” he said happily. “I have enough of this place. It’s filled with dirty animals, bugs, monsters… Not to mention those giants.”

“They’re deer.”

“I don’t care what they are! They’re scaring me. But it’s good, that you’re here… Now I’ll be able to return home. My father send you, right? And about time, dammit! I was starting to think he’d forgotten about me.”

“Yes, your father send me. But I have bad news. They don’t want you to leave.”

Stained looked, as if someone just accused him of working with the Foxes. Which means that he had gone pale, opened his mouth agape, and his eyes did not pop out of their eyeholes only by a miracle. And also only by a miracle he did not fertilize the ground.

“What do you mean, they don’t want me to leave?!” he shouted. “No… no! You have to do something, do you hear?! Do something!”

He grabbed Chromia by her jacket and shook her in anger. The witch grabbed him strongly by the throat and brought to his knees. She looked him in the eyes with ire. Banner immediately got as meek as a lamb, with his tail curled between his legs.

“I don’t have to do anything,” she declared coldly. “And you better tell me, why the hell did you wander off to these woods in the first place.”

“I didn’t want to!” Stained looked, like he was at the edge of crying tears, when he said that. “It’s those motherfucking Foxes! They highjacked me and dragged to the forest’s border! And then they said: ‘Either you go in there, or we’ll castrate and skin you!’ I really didn’t want to go here!”

The noble, still held by his throat, started to cough and sob. Chromia let him go, so he would not mess hooves with bogeys. The stallion fell to the grass, face first, and got up immediately.

“Why did they kidnap you?”

“I don’t know! I mean… they said something about me not treating the ladies right… and that I need a lesson and fasting… Like the only thing I do is spending time with hookers! And they beat me up first. Why me?”

“Good question,” Chromia said, squirting her eyes and looking somewhere far into the groove. “You were spending time with hookers on that day as well?”

“No. I mean… yes, but… she’s not some ordinary call girl. She’s beautiful and funny. And when she smiles, I want to smile as well. The last time I saw her was before those motherfuckers ponynapped me.”

True love, thought Chromia. A poor noble and prostitute, loving each other truly and madly. With a love forbidden and dispraised. Like in a fairy tale. Yep… this had to end bad. I won’t tell him. Not now.

“So you have no idea, why they carried you here?”

“Even the slightest! I never did anything to those dumb bush-tails in my life.”

Chromia thought for a moment. She looked at an owl that was observing her. The witch quirked an eyebrow; the owl hooted.

“And what happened after you came into the forest?”

“I started to run. As fast as I could, and as far away from them. I thought that I could gain some distance, wait a while and return. And my plan went to the motherbucking dogs. I got lost, I started to meander in this… this nightmare! I ate some roots, bucking berries…” Stained stopped for a moment to catch his breath. Chromia waited. “Then I came across a… some… no, I have no idea, what was it. At first I though it’s a pony. My chance to get out. Imagine my surprise, when it limped out into me. It had yellow, rotten teeth and… legs with meat stripped away from them…”

“A ghoul,” the witch said. “Only one?”

“Only one?!”

“They usually wonder in groups. But that’s beside the point. What happened next?”

“It hurt my leg, but I managed to get away. I run like the devil himself was chasing me! Then I tripped and fell over. And then that arboreal wolf found me…”

“You mean that big one, over there?” the zebra said, pointing towards the wolf that brought her to the groove. “It’s a timberwolf, not an arboreal one.”

“What’s the difference?” he asked, rising an eyebrow.

“Quite big, as a matter of fact.”

“Anyway,” Banner continued, “he brought me here and these… deers, they healed my injuries. Odd creatures. The only thing they do is gaze and sigh to trees. And these beasts here? What… what kind of place is this, anyway?”

“A druid’s groove.”

“Shouldn’t druids be… I don’t know… old fellas in even older clothes, with great, grey beards? These here are young and… and…”

“Yes, I know.” The witch rolled her eyes and looked around. Stags and deers wondered here and there, smiling and not getting into each other’s way. Here and there Chromia also noticed pairs of those animals, sitting and leaning on each other, and looking ahead as if in some narcotic trance.

True, she thought. One can feel slightly uncomfortable.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since yesterday… or the day before yesterday? I’m not even sure.”

Stained went quiet and started to look around as well. He did not want to stay in this place. It scared him. He was afraid of the timberwolves running freely in the groove, of the deers he did not know, of the very place itself, for it was too peaceful and quiet.

But most of all, he wanted to return to Lila.

Who was dead, Chromia thought bitterly, looking at Stained Banner.

“Please, take me away from here,” he pleaded.

---

“Why are you so persistent?” the wila asked, eyeing Chromia.

“And you? Because that’s what I was hired for, because he doesn’t want to be here, because this is not where he belongs. Because this is not where he was raised, and he knows nothing of such life. Because he’s all on his own, surrounded by creatures he’s unfamiliar with. Because he’s afraid. Because he wants to go home, to his beloved… who is probably dead.”

“Oh… Then why worry him with that?”

“Because bitter truth is better than the sweetest of lies.”

The wila had gone silent for a moment again. The zebra notice it was some kind of habit for her, and after each pause she started to talk with her voice down. It truly intrigued and disturbed the witch.

“There is nothing good about lying,” the wila said finally. “Lies can hurt. Lies did hurt a lot of creatures. Lies can lead your friends to leave you, did you know that?”

“I don’t have too many friends, but I know that. And do you know that you are asking me to lie?”

The wila eyed the witch with disbelief.

“If I return without Stained Banner, I will be asked why. What am I to say then? If I tell his father the truth… he won’t let go. He’ll come here with all those mean ponies you’re so afraid of. And if not the truth, then should I lie to him? Should I tell him his son is dead?”

The wila gazed at Chromia with eyes no longer filled with amazement, but fear. Her lips started to tremble, hooves shook, and tears filled her eyes. Chromia did not expect this kind of effect. She wanted to convince the wila somehow, make her change her mind… not scare her. And with words alone? The witch could not conceive it.

“I… I… very well… I’ll let you leave.”

“Thank you,” the zebra bowed.

“But first, I want to show you something. Come closer, please.”

The witch neared her without protest. The wila was taller than she. Now, when she looked at her eyes from up close, she saw a pony. A typical, normal pony. Yet there was something wrong about it, she was certain of that, even though she did not know, what exactly. The wila was more extraordinary, than Chromia suspected.

The spirit of the forest placed her hoof on Chromia’s head. “What—” the witch began, but a sudden dizziness drowned the rest of her words.

She felt she was spinning, falling into an abyss, drowning. She wanted to save herself, but was unable to. Her hooves felt as if they were made of wood, rooted in the ground. She could not see anything, apart from a pair of eyes. Sky blue, beautiful eyes. Eyes that were looking at her with kindness and sympathy.

What?

There are no eyes. There is the sky. Cloudless, brilliantly blue. The Sun is traveling lazily behind the horizon. There is a small town, a village. Chromia is running on its streets. But as who? She does not know this place, these ponies. They are all laughing and rejoicing. Why?

And there were children, playing and romping in the center of the town. No one shouts at them, no one tries to chase them away. They laugh loudly, shout. No one seems to mind. Why?

Two mares sit on a bench in the park, kissing each other. Everyone sees it, but no one reprimands them. Ponies pass by, indifferently, laughing and joking. It’s wrong, it’s not the way it should be.

No one does anything. Why? What is this place? It’s… different. Worse? Better?

The witch cannot tell.

Everything starts to blend together. Chromia is sinking in the depths of the ocean, falling into a bottomless abyss. The sky’s clean colours turn into darkness. In the darkness there are eyes…

The wila took her hoof away from Chromia’s forehead. The witch fell to her knees, holding her hurting head. She gritted her teeth as strong as she could. Chromia lied down, with her head on the ground, waiting for the pain to pass.

When she finally got back to her senses, she stood up and looked at the wila.

“What… was that?” she asked, rubbing her achy head.

“A warning.”

“A warning? About what? The future?”

“About the present.”

---

The morning Sun bathed the groove in its lustre. The air was crisp and calming. A light fog blanketed the ground, hiding the smaller inhabitants of the woods. The deers woke up and started to pray around the giant oak. Only now did Chromia notice that children were also amongst them. It felt odd to her, but only for a moment.

Because why should it really be so odd?

She was standing along Stained Banner at the edge of the groove; the stallion was happy like a child, who was about to get a sweet. In the distance, Chromia could see the crooked trees, which were part of the bigger, darker side of the woods. The pair awaited for the hierophant, who was approaching them slowly, taking cautious steps, so he would not step on the small rabbits, which loitered under his hooves as if of spite.

The stag approached them, muttering something under his breath.

“So you are leaving our groove after all,” he said. “It would be a lie to say that I did not expect this. It was only a matter of time. Unfortunately, she is not very assertive.”

“Who is she?” the witch asked.

“The spirit of this forest, its guardian, and a very unhappy creature. But do not fret. You cannot fully understand, who she is. Not now. Not yet. She remains a mystery for most of us as well.”

“So how did she came to be here?”

“She was always here. This groove already existed, when our ancestors came here. And she existed along with it. She did not explain her origins to most of my kind, becoming a goddess for my brothers and sister.”

“She’s not a goddess for you?”

“For me, she is a friend. Because I know of her tragedy.”

The witch felt surprised. She wanted to ask more, but the stag interrupted her.

“It is time for you—” he started, but stopped suddenly. He looked at his beard; two rabbits hang on to it. Stained laughed, and the hierophant smiled. The witch’es face remained serious. “It is time for you to leave. Brunno shall lead you out of the forest. Farewell, young noble. And farewell, witch.” The stag bowed his head deeply.

“Farewell, hierophant,” answered the witch with a nod. “I hope we will meet again.”

The giant, blue-eyed timberwolf joined them. The witch mounted him easily, while Stained Banner had some problems; it took him four falls and Chromia’s help to finally clamber onto the beast’s back.

The wolf run towards the town, entering the Everfree Forest’s dark nooks. The hierophant stood for a moment, observing the spot, in which the creature and its riders were just a moment ago.

“Do now worry, witch,” he said quietly. “Our next meeting is only a matter of time.”

---

Bruuno left them near the end of the woods; the wolf did not want to leave its borders. He kept turning his head and whining, showing towards the forest’s end. The witch understood, Stained Banner did not. The timberwolf disappeared between the tree’s darkness, just as fast, as he appeared earlier.

Chromia had no intention of wasting time and started to trot. Young Banner complained about the march at first, but quietened after a moment, when he realised the witch pays him no heed.

He felt safer, now that she was with him. The grisly twisted trees lost some of their fiendish appearance. The darkness no longer resembled hell’s abyss. The branches above him, hiding the sky, were no longer the lid of a coffin.

They passed more and more bushes, until the witch stopped suddenly. Stained Banner was too busy trying not to get scratched by the sharp shrubs, to notice that; he bumped into Chromia and tripped over, surprised.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked reproachfully, standing up and brushing himself off.

“Quiet,” Chromia said, cocking an ear.

Then she started to move again, in a different direction. Banner felt besotted. He looked at the zebra, and then behind, from where they came from.

“Hey… hey!” he shouted, running after the witch. “You said we were supposed to go straight. Where are you going?”

“Come with me and you’ll find out.”

Banner hesitated for a moment. “Oh, no. I have enough of this place. I’m going back to town, with or without you!”

Chromia stopped and looked back. “Good luck then,” she said, and trotted on.

Stained turned around with the intention of leaving the witch, but unfortunately he looked up, at the tree branches. There he saw a giant spiderweb, along with squirrels and birds wrapped in it. Banner gulped. He shook his head, trying to throw out that image from his mind, when something fell on his head.

“What the—” He looked at the object, which was a small skull of some creature.

With fear, he raised his head. His face twisted in a horrified grimace, his skin turned white, and his eyes nearly jumped out of their sockets. The young noble screamed loudly and run after the witch.

On the tree, a dog-sized spider watched it all with its watery eyes, not knowing what to think about the pony’s behaviour.

---

Stained caught up with Chromia, as she was standing like a tailor’s dummy and gazing at something.

“All right… I can wait a moment for you…” he said, catching his breath.

“Stay here,” the witch ordered, pulling out her sword.

“Why?” Banner asked with worry, and directed his eyes at the direction Chromia was looking.

And felt silent.

Between the trees, like a harbinger of doom, a manticore was raging. The giant creature with a lion’s body, bat wings and scorpion’s tail jumped and roared furiously. Its great claws sliced at the ground, at which some shadow was running. Banner could not see it, but he knew the beast was trying to catch it.

A lightning bolt hit the manticore in the head, throwing it off balance and forcing to back away. Stained hid himself behind a large tree and observed the spectacle with eyes wide opened.

Chromia heard the sounds of fighting and casting spells from afar. They awoke her interest and also worried. But what she saw outgrow all her expectations.

The manticore lashed out with her claws at a mare, who was wielding a sword, almost identical to the one belonging to Chromia. The mare had a long, black mane and was wearing a chainmail, covered with a black, leather jacket. Two belts were attached to the jacket, holding a bag and multi-coloured vials.

The mare dodged the beast’s attack with a nimble spin and sliced it in the snout. The manticore roared painfully and tried to shiv the mare with its tail, but then lighting struck.

Chromia looked up and saw a pegasus stallion, whose hooves were glistering and smoking lightly. The pegasus was wearing a black robe with golden runes wrought on it. A silver breastplate was protecting his torso.

A witch and a wizard, Chromia thought. And I thought that five-legged pony was the strangest thing I ever saw.

She did not have time to stand in reverie. She had to help the other witch.

She started to gallop towards the manticore, hitting it with an Aard Word to draw it’s attention. The irritated monster leaped up upon the zebra as soon as he noticed her. Chromia rolled on the ground under the manticore’s claws, and cut its hind legs with her sword.

The other witch and the pegasus were slightly shocked, seeing a new ally appear, but quickly resumed fighting. The stallion casted another lightning bolt, which hit the beast in the head. The chimera wailed, pressing on of its claw to its skull.

The other witch used the opportunity and jumped onto the manticore. When the beast noticed that, it started to fling around, trying to get rid of the unwanted passenger. The witch drove her sword into the manticore’s back, to be able to hold on to it.

This only maddened the chimera even more; it went truly berserk. Chromia was forced to run away a bit, not to be crushed. The pegasus tried to hit the manticore with another spell, but kept on missing.

“Catch it with a Yrden!” he shouted to Chromia.

The zebra eyed the havoc-spreading beast. “Catch it with a Yrden yourself!” she shouted back.

“For buck’s sake, one of you use Axii!”

The black-maned mare took the wizard’s advice to the heart and shouted the Word. The manticore calmed down. Just when the witch thought she had won, the beast started to swing her tail, trying to throw her off. Chromia run to aid her.

She closed the distance and said the Yrden Word, while simultaneously drawing a symbol on the ground. When the trap was ready, she hit the manticore with an Aard.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” she snarled, performing elegant whirlwinds with her sword.

The manticore roared and advanced towards the slowly retreating witch. The beast was just about to leap on Chromia, when she entered her trap and came to a halt, paralyzed by the Word’s force. The other witch did not waste the opportunity; she pulled out her blade from the manticore’s back and drove it through its head. The chimera roared one last time and felt to the ground.

The black-maned witch jumped off the dead monster with a graceful cartwheel. She brushed away the hair from her face and sighed. The mare’s coat was dark blue and she had yellow eyes; one of them was adorned with a X-shaped scar.

Soon the pegasus flied down and landed near the witch. He had a state-blue coat and black-red mane. One of his eyes was pink, and the other was blind, covered with cataract.

“That was plain stupid,” he said to the black witch.

“Ha! That was a great fight!” she answered happily. “The manticore is dead, we’ll get the reward and we get to take some of its venom as well. And,” she faced Chromia, “we have a new ally. Hello, sister.”

Chromia approached the other mare and smiled slightly. “Hello,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I saw another witch”.

“May my eyes be dammed, if I ever saw one at all. I’m Erynia,” she introduced herself, offering her hoof.

“Chromia,” the other mare answered, shaking firmly Erynia’s hoof.

“Nice meeting you, Chromia,” said the pegasus, slicking his mane back. “It’s good to know there are some witches, who know how to listen. Ah, but where are my manners… I’m Aloe.”

Erynia rolled her eyes over and muttered something under her breath, toying with her phoenix-shaped amulet. Chromia came from the dragon’s school and never meet a witch from beyond it.

Aloe approached the manticore’s corpse and started to incide the stinger.

“Thanks for the help,” said Erynia, cleaning her blade with some leaves. “We could have managed on our own, of course, but this way it was much faster. Damn beast. We’ve been hunting it since yesterday!”

“You’re in the Everfree since yesterday?” repeated Chromia, surprised. “Me too. But I haven’t heard you before.”

“Yup… we were kinda wandering around, searching for that carcass. But… you were here as well? A job, or are you looking for ingredients?”

“Both, actually.”

A panicked scream hit their ears. The witches turned towards its source. Chromia knew, who was responsible for it. Stained Banner was running towards the witches, as if his life depended on it. He tripped over a root and tumbled right in front of their hooves.

Erynia looked at him, with a light, scornful smirk. Chromia, on the other hoof, shifted her gaze towards the spot, from which the noble came. Her medallion started to vibrate, just like Erynia’s; the second witch stopped smiling at Banner’s attempts to get up. From the forest’s blackness, red eyes started to arise.

The mares drew their swords.

“You gonna help us, Aloe?” Erynia shouted.

“Sorry, but I’m really busy at the moment,” the mage replied, still extracting the manticore’s venom.

Stained withdraw towards Aloe, but when he saw, what the pegasus was doing, he nearly vomited.

The witches took positions, facing the arboreal wolves. The beasts snarled and growled, encircling Chromia and Erynia. Chromia kept a calm, adamant expression, while Erynia smiled lightly.

“I have a plan—I’ll kill that one, you handle the rest,” the phoenix witch said, pointing firstly to a single wolf, and then to the whole group.

“More fun for me,” Chromia replied, preparing to strike the first of the attacking beasts.

---

“That’s three bottles of manticore poison, three brain tissues…” Aloe counted, while tending to Erynia’s wounds. “Two vials of the ghoul’s venom… Stay still!”

Erynia hissed through clenched teeth, when the mage disinfected the cuts on her back with alcohol.

Chromia got out of the fight unharmed, but one of the wolves managed to cut Erynia’s back with its claws. The fight lasted for a few moments, Aloe successfully extracted the manticore’s venom, and Stained Banner managed not to faint. All in all, the witches turned out beneficial by the struggle.

“We can give you one bottle of venom,” Aloe offered.

“No thanks,” Chromia answered.

The stallion finished patching up his companion. Erynia got up and stretched, paying no heed to Banner looking at her. She pulled out and apple from her bag.

“So,” she took a bite, “now, that we all have, what we came for, maybe we can return together to the town? It’s always safer to travel with company.”

“True,” Chromia agreed. “That’s a good idea. Especially, since there was a manticore running around here. There might be more of them. Not to mention those wolves.”

“We should read the town before the night falls,” Aloe calculated, looking at the sun. “If we move right away… and nothing attacks us… Yes, we should be within the town walls before sundown.”

“Praise the gods!” Stained Banner said with relief.

“I was saying that hypothetically, assuming we don’t run into another group of arboreal wolves, ghouls, a manticore, or Foxes.”

Stained winced and cringed upon hearing that last word. Erynia was finishing her apple, and Aloe was almost done packing the ingredients. Chromia felt a strange urge to return to town and odd happiness connected with it. She was not sure, what was the cause of those feelings. The five hundred bits of reward? Or maybe… Veks?

The witch looked at Stained Banner, who was observing a hawk circling above the woods, at Aloe, focused and ready to go, and at Erynia throwing away the apple’s core.

Yes. Definitely Veks.

---

They reached the gates before dusk. When they left the forest’s border and saw the town walls from afar, Stained almost started to bounce in place from happiness. He was smiling widely and seem to regain his lost strength.

Chromia was also quite pleased. She had done the job and met a new witch. And she was about to see Veks again. Since the night predating her expedition to Everfree, the tobacco dealer invaded her thoughts quite commonly. Sometimes she simply thought of him. Sometimes she wondered, if she was even allowed to do something like that. Sometimes she considered the possible consequences of this kind of…

She did not want to admit it, but she could not deny it either.

…relationship.

She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on those thoughts right now.

Two guards, clad in chainmails and covered with tunics with the country’s heraldry signs, stood by the gates. They were leaning on their halberds; one was sleeping, a trickle of saliva dripping on his hoof. The other was gazing forward, with a look undisturbed by a thought, and almost failed to notice the passing witches, mage and young noble. Aloe shot the piteous soldiers a glance full of pity.

The town welcomed them with the usual: tumult, rush and ignorance almost hit each of the four travellers in the face. Every pony, no matter his gender or state, was in a hurry. The carts rode through the streets, not crashing with each other by means known only to them. The beggars tried to cadge a few bits everywhere they could (and everywhere they could they were also met with a slap in the face), and the harlots exposed their bodies to catch a potential victim.

Stained Banner took a deep breath, eyeing the hustle and bustle with a smile. Chromia, on the other hoof, wanted to hide in the nearest back alley. Erynia observed everything with boredom, while only a miracle was stopping Aloe from spitting and flying away.

“So…” the stallion muttered. “I guess this is where we part?”

“So it seems,” Chromia nodded. “Are you staying in the town?”

“Only till tomorrow. They we’re going to Fillydelphia, and then to Manehattan. A long way, and dangerous as well.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow?”

“With the first light of dawn.”

The witch started to wonder, observing a black cat nearby. She could have sworn she saw it somewhere before. The cat hissed at her, and dived into an alley.

“I came here only to find him,” she said, pointing at Stained Banner, who did not seem to be paying attention to their conversation. “The job’s done, so there’s nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Maybe you want to travel with us?” Erynia asked curiously.

“Good idea,” Aloe added. “If we run out of jobs to do, we can always start a circus.”

“This whole town is one big circus,” the witch muttered.

“Ha! I won’t disagree with that.”

Banner’s coughing intruded the rest of the conversation. Aloe and Erynia though the young noble was choking, but Chromia knew, what was going on. And it was even a little funny for her. Like Stained could not simply leave without her.

“In the meantime, farewell,” she said to the other witch and mage. “I hope we’ll meet again.”

Stained Banner also said his goodbye and left after Chromia.

“So what do we do now?” Erynia asked, scratching behind her ear.

“We have to find him. It’s almost nightfall, and I don’t want to wake up half of the citizens. Besides, it will be harder to find him at night.” Aloe thought for a long moment. “What do you think of traveling with her?”

“It would be splendid. Only—”

“Yes. Exactly.”

---

“Father!”

“Stained?”

Chromia entered the Banner’s residence with pride and satisfaction from a work well done. Stained returned safe and sound, and in less that twenty-four hours since she agreed to find him.

“You little… where have you been?! Your mother and I were dead worried!” Rent did not seem the loving and forgiving type of parent. “I’m gonna put an end to those whorish escapades of yours, you’ll see! From now on, you’ll do everything I tell you! And you can forget about the Underwall and your whores!”

The witch decided to act, before Rent Banner could really get “in the zone”.

“The job’s done. I want my bits.”

The old noble shot her an angry glance. His face turned red, he clenched his teeth, and veins appeared on his forehead. Rent muttered something under his breath and pulled out a bulgy pouch from his desk’s drawer. He tossed it to the witch and sent her a stern look.

“Here’s your money. We’re even. Thank you for your services.”

“Farewell, Banneret. And goodbye, Stained.”

The witch turned around and left the room. But she was still able to hear the next part of old Banner’s lecture.

“Where’s our family’s coat of arms?”

“I… don’t know… I must’ve lost it in the forest, when I was running from—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses! You’re nothing, do you hear?! A bite in the ass, a leech, a failure! The only thing you do is wasting my money! You’re a disgrace to our family, filth! I regret the day you were born!”

Chromia took a deep breath and returned.

“I believe this,” she said, pulling out the brooch she found in the Everfree and tossing it to Rent Banner, “belongs to you, sir. Farewell, Stained. I wish you all the best.”

---

Darkness felt upon the streets, as the sun ended its journey and hid behind the horizon. Most of the townsfolk was already in their houses; only a few still wondered outside, ending their daily businesses. A couple of ponies walked down the main street, lighting up the lanterns. Somewhere outside of the city a wolf howled.

Chromia got off the main street, turning into the back alleys. She would reach Veks’es shop faster this way. The bulgy pouch hanged pleasantly at her side, while her thoughts were occupied by disdain for Rent Banner. She was expecting that things would end in such a way, but it disgusted her all the same.

It’s not my problem, she convinced herself, chasing away those thoughts and continuing her walk to the tobacco shop.

Something was amiss. The shop’s door was ajar—something, as Chromia knew, the creamy-coloured unicorn hated. She frowned and checked, if her blade slides out of its scabbard. She had a bad feeling about this.

The witch sneaked up to the very door and managed to catch the sounds of a conversation from afar.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” came Veks’ voice. “You’re mistaking me for someone else. And now, if you don’t want to buy anything, get out of my shop.”

“We didn’t come here to shop,” a stallion said. His voice seemed familiar. “We came here on behalf of someone. Someone, to whose business you are an obstacle.”

“Me?! What do you mean? No one runs another tobacco shop here, and even if he does, he’s probably got more clients than me anyway!”

“You whole life revolves around tobacco. But don’t worry… it will end soon.”

Chromia did not wait a second longer. She kicked the door open… and stopped in shock.

Erynia, with her sword out, was standing next to Veks. Aloe, with his forehooves behind his head, was leaning against the wall. They all turned their heads towards Chromia. Veks breathed a sigh of relief, while the mage and witch opened their mouths in awe.

“Chromia?” Erynia bewildered.

Aloe eyed the zebra with a questioning look and frowned. “End this, Erynia!”

It was a signal for both of the witches. They brandished their swords in the same second, fast like the blink of an eye. Chromia simultaneously took the first step towards the black-maned witch. Erynia swung her sword.

Chromia’s heart started to beat faster, thumping in her chest, tolling like a bell. For the first time in a long while, she felt terror grasping her. Thousands of eels wriggled in her entrails, desperately trying to get out.

Erynia’s blade sliced through the air, nearing Veks’es throat. The salesman’s eyes went wide, he looked at the witch. His heart measured the time, its beats becoming the clock of his last moments.

First beat.

The sword enters the body and cuts it, as if a knife cuts through hot butter.

Second beat.

Drops of blood fall to onto the counter and the ground. They drip from the stallion’s slashed throat on his shirt. Chromia screams. Time becomes relative for Veks, becomes irrelevant. His whole life, thirty-four years, flashes before him in a mere second.

Third beat.

The stallion sways. He loses balance, starts to fall. He thinks about what happened on that warm, June night. He thinks about Chromia. About the bridge leading to Old Baltimore, how she saved his life there. About her every visit. About the night they have spent together, what they did and said. He thinks about her.

And regrets nothing.

Veks falls heavily to the ground, blood flowing from his cut throat, which he grabs in a last, desperate act.

Chromia, fuelled by cold hatred, despair and pain, wanted to charge at Erynia. Disembowel her, cut her head off. But Aloe did not let her. He hit the witch with a magic missile; Chromia was thrown away and hit the wall.

“Dammit! Hold her off, while I open the portal!” the wizard shouted, sending a fireball at the tobacco-filled shelves.

“Done,” the phoenix witch nodded. “Oh, Chromia…”

The mentioned witch stood up and shot her opponent a look of hatred and grudge. She gritted her teeth so hard they started to hurt, just like the hooves in which she was holding her weapon.

She charged at her opponent; their swords clashed in a deadly dance. The blades sang their songs, slicing through air and colliding with each other. The melody filled the fighters ears. Chromia was not listening to it. The only things that filled her ears, eyes, nostrils and soul were fury, anger and pain.

She spun around, aiming for Erynia’s legs. The other witch jumped and cut from above. Chromia blocked the strike and kicked her opponent. Erynia did not seemed to be bothered by that and thrust with her sword. Chromia dodged the attack easily and prepared to counter. Erynia pirouetted and parried.

Then they both swiped their swords and locked them in a clash.

“Calm down, Chromia!”

“Shut up!” the zebra shouted and kicked Erynia in the abdomen.

Fire started to consume the room and spread to others. The tobacco smoke clouded the air, vexing Aloe’s unaccustomed to smoking nostrils.

“Dammit…” the mage cursed under his breath.

The dance of the witches continued. Steel flashed in the air, wielded by two mares, who have mastered the art of fighting. And both knew about it. Yet Chromia was thinking only about the other witch’s death. And that gave her the upper hoof.

Erynia made a mistake in her counter and Chromia cut her in the side. The black-maned mare hissed from pain and took a few steps back.

“I don’t want to do this, but you’re starting to leave me no choice.”

Chromia had no intentions of listening to Erynia’s warning and prepared for another attack. But then she saw what her opponent was planning and stopped. Both witches shouted the Aard Word at the same moment, starting a real storm. The collision of spells shook the whole room, dispersing all of the smoke. Aloe cursed loudly, but continued performing his incantations. The witches were still struggling and neither of them wanted to back down.

And this time Chromia’s stubbornness turned against her.

Erynia let go of her spell, making a pirouette. She got out of the way of the force strike, which blow out one of the walls. She immediately said another Word and send Chromia flying back.

A red oval appeared on one of the other walls, showing a mysterious chamber, lit by candles, on its other side.

“Erynia!”

The black-maned witch lowered her sword, but did not pass the portal.

“I’m sorry, Chromia. It’s nothing personal, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She looked at Veks’ body. “And took liking in the wrong person. Goodbye… sister.” She turned around and jumped into the portal.

Aloe looked at Chromia and sighed. “Sorry,” he said, before entering the magical gate.

Chromia grasped her sword with fury and throw it at the stallion. Only a few centimetres separated the mage from getting the blade impaled in his skull, but the portal closed before that happened. Erynia and Aloe were gone, after killing Veks and burning his shop down.

Veks.

She run up to her friend as fast as she could, but it was already too late. The stallion’s heart stopped beating, stopped counting time. He was lying, calm and still. Chromia fell to her knees beside him, deluding herself, that maybe… she didn’t even know, what exactly.

Dammit, Chromia, I’ve missed you!

The witch took his head in her hooves, closed her eyes and mouth.

He was happy, she thought. When I came to him on that day… that night… Now, when he saw me, he believed I’d save him… He gave me warmth, food, shelter… love… And I failed him…

“I failed you, Veks,” she stuttered. A tear run down her cheek. “Forgive me…”

The patter of shoed hooves pulled her out of her despair. She raised her head. Four guards, armed with crossbows, run into the shop. When they saw the dead stallion and the witch holding him, they aimed their weapons at her.

Chromia gave the soldiers an angry look. They backed up a little, but did not lower their weapons.

“Whoresons,” she snarled, rising her hooves.

---

The worst thing was the sound of dripping water.

She could bear the coldness of the stone floor, the absence of light in the dark cell. She could bear the whistling and absence offers, threats and promises of the other prisoners. The prison was full stallions, obnoxious, dirty and stinking with urine and sweat. The cold walls were enough to give one rheumatism or kidney failure, and the beds were nothing more than small stacks of straw lying in the corner of each cell. She could bear it all.

But the worst thing was the sound of dripping water.

Chromia was kneeling, with her back turned to the cell’s door, absorbed in meditation. She did not give in to despair; the time for that would come later. She was a reasonable mare and she knew it. Now was the time for vengeance and that was her priority in the nearest time. First, she wanted to catch and kill both the witch and mage that took away Veks’ life. Later came the matter of asking “why?”. Why does a witch work with a spellcaster? Why did she kill Veks? Witches do not kill others for money. Never. Why was Erynia different?

“Come to papa, honey, I’ll please ya really good!”

“I bet you’d look lovely with a part of me in your mouth! Ha ha ha!”

“C’mon, give me a bite… Just a small one!”

The zebra ignored the other prisoners with stoic calm. During the years, she managed to develop an immunity to all kinds of mockery—devilish mare, stripy whore, vixen or filthy spawn no longer affected her. She had heard them too often and from meaningless ponies. And the shouts of some horny savages concerned her just as much as last year’s snow.

The clik-clak of hooves, coming from the stairs leading to the cells, caught her interest. The heavy, wooden door opened with a crack. Someone entered and started to walk slowly, as if looking for something. The witch suspected, what it was.

”Chromia?”

”I’m here, Stained.”

The young noble stopped and returned to her cell. A cloak was covering his whole body, with a hood tossed over his head. The visit truly surprised Chromia. ”Stained, what are you—”

She was interrupted by the sound of the lock being opened.

“We have to get you out of here. There’s no time to loose!”

“What?!”

“She’s being set free?”

“I want to go as well!”

“Me too!”

The witch looked at the young stallion with eyes wide open. “Stained, what are you doing?”

“Returning the debt for saving my life. They want to hang you, tomorrow! Here, your cloak and sword.”

Only now did Chromia notice the long wrapped bundle Stained was holding. The noble gave her a long, black coat, similar to the one he was wearing.

“I have some money in my bag. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t able to take the rest of your belongings.”

She pulled up his hood and looked him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

“There’s no time!”

---

A cobblestone road ran near the city, turning into a dirt track after a short while. Not many carts passed this way; it was almost the country’s border, after all. The only place worthy of interest was the Everfree Forest, which attracted only geologists and overconfident hunters, who usually ended up eaten in the woods.

Near the end of the paved road stood a road sign, pointing in three directions. An owl sat on it. The neighbourhood was peaceful and quiet, no one was present, nothing was happening. The owl turned her head, hooted.

“Shit!”

The owl flew away.

Chromia stopped to check on Banner. The young noble tripped over a cobblestone and landed face-front on the ground. The witch approached him and help him get back up.

“You need to watch where you stand more,” she said. “You alright?”

“Yes.” He shook his head. “Look, where here.” Stained pointed towards the sign, on which the owl was sitting just a moment ago.

The road forked in two directions. One way lead south, through the forest and canyon, outside the country’s border. The other went up north, to Canterlot Mountain, deep into the country. Both the pony and zebra knew, where they wanted to go.

“You’re going to Dodge City?” the witch asked.

“Yep,” Stained replied, looking towards the forest path. “I have enough of this place. I’ll start a new life, in another city, another country. Who knows, maybe I’ll get lucky? And you’re going north, right?”

“I need to get to Fillydelphia, and from there to Manehattan. I have some loose ends to tie up.”

“Understood.”

They stood in silence for a moment, postponing their parting. Stained looked at Canterlot Mountain, and at the city there, looked under a magic dome. He heard many legends and rumours about what was in there now and what was before the war. When he was younger, he sometimes dreamed he will pass the barrier one day and gain glory. Now it was just a childish dream, but Canterlot stood beautiful and mysterious all the same.

Chromia was not looking there. The city under the bubble reminded her of Veks’ monologues about pre-war times. About good and honourable ponies. Welfare and happiness. Chromia was wondering from where did Veks get all that hogwash. And why he believed in it. Yet now… now she would give everything to hear him tell that to her in person.

The zebra sighed heavily. “Goodbye, Stained Banner,” she said, patting the young noble in the back. “You’re a good pony. I wish you all the best in your new life.”

“Thank you for getting me out of the forest, wit-Chromia. And I also wish you all the best, in whatever you are planning to do.”

They shared a friendly hug, after which Stained Banner started to trot briskly towards his destination, leaving his former life behind. It impressed Chromia. She was now standing alone near the road sign. An owl flew out of nowhere and sat on it. The bird looked askance at Chromia; the witch’es gaze was fixed on the town, pain filling her eyes.

“I hate this place,” she said, maybe to herself, maybe to the owl. “You have no idea, how I bucking hate it.”

The witch started to march north, leaving the owl on its own. The bird observed her for a while, and then left, leaving the road sign empty and alone.

The sign pointed towards Dogde City, where Stained Banner went, New Baltimare, where Chromia was heading, and a third town, from which they both run away.

Ponyville.