The Hungry Eyes

by Ammie Kindheart

Chapter 12 - Manes Of The Ancestors

Finding that country fool stallion the night before had been a stroke of luck. It had been not long after the wolf had taken the two colts out by the farm. He had started feeding when he heard the dolt walking down the road, talking to himself. Although adding another kill to this thicket would be fun, he decided to use this one as bait. Throwing a sleeping spell at the bumpkin, the wolf had levitated the slumbering stallion and tied his rear leg to a large rock. Moving him through the air again, he had soundlessly suspended the sleeper below the bridge to sleep until he was needed as a distraction. Then, returning to the dead colts, he began his macabre artistry.

The wolf felt Morgan tremble against him as she looked into the mirror and saw their reflection. He saw fear for a moment and smiled. Then he saw her expression change. She looked… calm? How could this be? “You will be good and afraid before you die.” He expected her to react in fear again, but instead her eyes defied him. No matter. She would not only fear him, but beg for her death before he was through.

As the wolf forced Morgan through the door and out of town, he spoke several words. On the other side of town, the sleeper lowered slowly into the water, the quick current moving the stallion onto some tangled brush. The cold water woke the stallion, and he began to fight to keep his head from going under.

* * *

When the stallions got to the river, there was a stallion tied to some brush with his head nearly underwater. Big Mac jumped into the water with Bulk Biceps and Zahn right behind. When they got close, Big Mac said in amazement, “Why, it’s my cousin Bushel! How in th’ world did ya git in this fix?”

Bushel, who was straining to keep his head afloat, just took a deep breath and ducked under. Big Mac and Zahn followed him down. Not only was he entangled, but his leg was held down by a huge rock, with a heavy rope anchoring him to it. One of the stallions had been carrying a short sword, and Zahn quickly snatched it and dived. It was hard work, cutting the rope while totally submerged, but he severed it finally. It took a few minutes more to free Bushel, but they managed it. Gasping and coughing, the group climbed out of the river.

After they had a few minutes to rest, Bushel said, “I wanna thank ya fellers. I was thinkin’ I was ’bout ready ta play a harp there for shor.”

Big Mac asked, “How’d ya come ta be here, cousin? I thought ya were over near Dodge City.”

“Yup, yup, I was,” said Bushel. “Up until yesterday mornin’, when some folks came a-hightailin’ it in, sayin’ there was some killin’s over here. Welp, we’re fam’ly, an’ I couldn’t jus’ sit there an’ leave y’all hangin’. So I hit th’ trail.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Zahn, “how did you end up in the river?”

“No, sir, I don’t mind that at all. In fact, I’m a-wonderin’ that myself,” answered Bushel with a perplexed look on his face. “I was walkin’ in on th’ road from th’ farm last night, an’ I heard a commotion. I saw some weird, red flashin’ in th’ trees. Next thin’ I knew, I woke up here in th’ river jus’ afore that feller started a-hollerin’.”

He was beginning to say something else when one of the stallions on guard at the other end of town ran up, gasping for breath. “I just found Mr. Rock! He’s been cut, but I think he’ll live. But…”

“What is it?” asked Zahn with a sick feeling in his stomach. Another death? “Is it Morgan? Is she…?”

The gasping guard shook his head and finally managed to say, “Gone!”

* * *

The stallions galloped through town as fast as they could toward Morgan’s lab. The poor, breathless guard stopped off at the inn, unable to continue. Zecora and Jaberi were sitting outside at the front entrance and immediately moved to see if the guard needed assistance. When he could finally tell them what all had taken place, the two zebras looked at each other and nodded. Stepping inside the door, Jaberi picked up two bags. They each put a bag on their back, and they hastened toward Morgan’s lab, where they knew they would be needed.

Part of Jaberi’s training through the years was to track. It had taken years of skill to be able to stalk those who had persecuted his people, and to remain unseen. When they arrived at Ammie’s home, they found that Zahn had bandaged the cut on poor Mr. Rock.

Zecora stepped inside the house and saw the shawl lying on the floor beside the closet door. Picking it up, she closed her eyes. The visions came, and she watched as Morgan looked into the mirror and saw who was behind her. Zecora’s eyes snapped open, and she looked at Jaberi. “It’s that doctor. The Andalusian,” she said, her frustration clearly showing.

Big Mac stepped into the room just as she said this and he said, “Dr. Caballeron? The one that came on the train from Appleoosa?”

Jaberi turned and said, “Come, we must hurry.”

So, as the rest of the guard stayed to protect those in town, Big Mac, Zahn, Jaberi, and Zecora headed out of town at a fast walk, with Jaberi in the lead. It seemed he was able to sense a trail more than see one, for it was dark and they traveled with no lights to aid their search. After about a half-mile, Jaberi slowed and motioned for them to stop. Just ahead was a tree-home that looked like it had been abandoned for a long time. In the cracks around the boarded up windows, they could see flashes of red light.

* * *

Inside the hut, Morgan was bruised and bleeding. The evil being that stood before her had tried over and over to break her will. He had beaten her, tried to force himself on her, but she had fought back with everything she had. As tired as she was, she knew if she gave in to the fear he was trying so hard to create that he would be able to kill her. She could see him shaking and realized he was tired, too. He needed the renewing of her fear to be able to gain strength and defeat her.

She renewed her determination to stand her ground. Morgan squared her shoulders, stood proud, and glared at him. He reached out and tried to slash her again, with the three-bladed knife on his fore hoof. She blocked as best as she could with her forelegs tied together. She was thankful for those years of training and physical workouts required in police work. He swiped with the other hoof, knocking her off balance. As she collided with the cot, Morgan was able to reach down into her boot and draw a knife she kept there. Flipping it, she cut her bonds before her captor saw what she was doing. He jerked her upright again, trying to reach around and slice her throat. She twisted and jammed the knife into his chest up to the hilt. Withdrawing it, she backed away from him as he roared his anger, red flashing from his eyes.

* * *

Zecora gasped softly and nearly fell.

Jaberi whispered, “Breathe through it. I feel it, too.”

After a moment, Zecora could straighten again. They decided to go in two teams, the healers as one and the stallions in the other. Once they were in place, Big Mac threw a rock to bounce off the roof.

There came the sounds of a scuffle, then a roar that shook the ground, and then the red flashes became brighter. The door flew open with a flash of blinding, red light. Morgan ran into the darkness, a knife in her hoof. Big Mac, who was closest, grabbed her and drew her off to the side with him. An instant later, the wolf came through the door, clutching a long gash in his chest.

“You can’t hide from me, you insignificant little pony. I will get you for this. You will die slowly!” roared the evil one.

Suddenly, the area was flooded with brilliant white and blue light. The two zebras
held hooves as they began to chant in the language of their birth. Louder became the chant as they spoke the words entrusted to them long ago. It seemed that many voices joined them until it was a mighty chorus, and, as it grew in volume, the light pulsed brighter, surrounding the evil beast who screamed in fury and pain. Overhead, the cry of a dragon added to the chant as he circled, the lights making his scales shine.

In the light, Zahn saw the face of the creature for the first time. “You!” he yelled. “Rodolfo!” Before anyone else could react, Zahn surged forward and knocked the wolf to his back, his hoof on top of the three-bladed ring on the evil one’s hoof, pinning him and it to the ground.

Rodolfo tried to use his powers to fight off Zahn, to no avail. The combined forces of the healers, the dragon, and his wound were more than he could overcome. “Who are you?” Rodolfo grudgingly growled from the ground.

Zahn longed to rip the throat out of this one who had caused so many such harm. He had been trained to kill so easily, and he was sorely tempted as his bitterness surged. Realizing that the bitterness had controlled his heart and driven him far too long, Zahn released it. Keeping pressure on his captive, he leaned down until they were eye to eye. With a growl of his own, he asked, “Don’t you remember those you sell to save your own hide?”

Rodolfo’s eyes grew wide. “But they killed you! They t-told me you were d-dead!” he stammered.

Zahn stood and jerked Rodolfo upright, as one might a puppet. Rodolfo then tried to break away, but was quickly contained. “No such luck for you,” rumbled Zahn.

Jaberi brought out a long rope made from the manes of many Cherica ancestors, all Healers and Chiefs, which, when woven, infused their magic into it. This gave the rope the ability to bind the evil it was used to capture. Although his mouth rained curses and profanities, Rodolfo could not break free, nor could he use any dark magic.

Rodolfo screamed, “No! This is impossible! We killed all of your tribe after that old witch died! Be warned—I will be free, and then you will all die, and I will show no mercy for this impudence! No being can harm me, for I am the Wolf! Fall before me now, for I am your Master!”

Tiring of the noise, Coal landed and stood before Rodolfo, growling a warning. The startled evil one began to struggle and curse again, until Coal let forth a stream of fire that singed Rodolfo’s muzzle. Once more, Rodolfo raged, with the same result. Thereafter, the vile-tongued one kept his mutinous silence, although if looks could kill, they surely would all have been dead by the worst deaths imaginable.

While the stallions had seen to the prisoner, Zecora walked to where Morgan sat on the ground. Taking items from her bag, the zebra began to clean the wounds on the detective’s face as tears ran from her own eyes. It was obvious that this young mare had kept her wits about her and fought back. Besides bruises and cuts on her face, there were many on her body as well. Although, the cloak that was now in tatters had taken a lot of the abuse.

“Did he… hurt you?” Meaning far more than the external wounds. At Morgan’s denial, Zecora continued, “Are you able to walk home, dear?”

Morgan nodded and stood. “I’m thankful you all came when you did,” she said, her voice breaking at the end.

Zecora wrapped her own cloak around Morgan, and they began to follow the three stallions back to town, Rodolfo tied between them. Morgan was exhausted, but with the images in her mind of what had happened tonight… She knew it would be a long while before she would truly rest.