The Mare in the Magic Hat

by Impossible Numbers

Part V: In Which Trixie Finds the First Secret (incomplete)

Inside the “BAR” stockroom, Trixie groaned while her hooves rummaged and crashed through the cupboard’s iron contents. She paused only to levitate the lantern over her shoulder. Lit up by the embers, the pots and pans gleamed.

“It’s not stealing,” she said patiently. “It’s borrowing. I’m going to give it back when I’m done.”

Her conscience stuck its tongue out at her.

“Fine. Then call it resourceful heroism. Just give me a break. How’s this?”

She drafted a fairly lengthy “I.O.U.” and then let the paper fall onto the worktop. At least that was something she could point to if challenged later.

“Feel better?” she said, considerably less patiently than before.

While she rummaged through the topmost drawer, the jabbering and laughing continued to her right. No one had stumbled in yet, but one would have to, sooner or later. Trixie ground her teeth at the thought.

The rear door creaked open behind her. Immediately, she spun round, head lowered, forelimbs braced to charge or to fire from her horn, whichever suited best. Then she relaxed.

“Oh, it’s just you,” she said.

Ears erect, the black cat poked its head through the rear door. Beyond, Trixie could see the utter blackness and hear the rustle of trees in a mild midnight wind.

“Got bored out there on your own, did you?” she said, returning to the drawer. “I can’t imagine why you’d go anywhere near the village when they’re out of their minds like this.”

The black cat mewed expectantly. Trixie looked up, and followed its gaze along the worktop to the pile of carrots and apples and other unmentionable plant foods. Most of them looked like violently killed mandrakes, all twisted roots and face-like contortions.

“You’re still hungry, I take it?” Trixie tossed over the one that most closely resembled a carrot, which was still orange only in patches. “Enjoy. I’ll add it to the I.O.U. here. I’m not stealing, before you ask. It’s, uh, credit.”

Munching soon followed. Trixie couldn’t resist a small smile while the cat bent its head down for another bite. If only Fluffy Face had possessed a heart, or at least an obliging stomach.

“Oh, why not? Let’s see if there’s any milk too. No point leaving a foul taste in your mouth.”

A few opened and closed cupboards later, she heaved out a likely-looking jug and tipped some creamy fluid into a leftover mug.

“I suppose you make your own way out in the forest, all alone.” Trixie passed the worktop and heaved a keg barrel out of the way; from the weight of the thing and the sloshing inside, it must’ve been full almost to the top. “Wretched way of living, if you ask me. So what’s in here? They can’t just drink that blue muck.”

Quite shamelessly, Trixie uncorked the top and summoned a slither of brownish liquid to curl and spiral in the air. To her surprise, the cat hissed at this.

“Oh, relax. It’s a standard Canterlot-level hydrokinetic spell. Any unicorn could do it if they had the patience.” Now that she was paying close attention, the odd frothy flow within the liquid looked familiar. “Barley drink?”

She sniffed it, and then gagged as a smell like a rotting field soaked through her nose, the scent rubbing as harshly as a nettle pressed against her face.

“Out-of-date barley drink!” The liquid slid back into the hole. She couldn’t cork it fast enough. “Have they been drinking nothing but that poisoned water? Only someone that crazy would leave this lying around.”

And yet the milk smelt absolutely fine. Trixie creased her face up and shook the errant thought out. As if she didn’t have enough mysteries to worry about.

At least she found a coil of rope behind the barrel. It hung from a hook on the wall. Uncoiling it, she tugged it and twisted it. Good rope. Hemp, possibly, if a little tougher than she was used to. They probably scavenged that from the forest too. A few horseshoes lay below, leaning against the wall. With a shrug, she summoned a saddlebag from the corner and dumped the lot inside.

Beside her, the cat seated itself on the edge and mewed curiously. White smudges lay between its whiskers, and its flicking tongue tried to wipe them off.

“A few tricks of the trade,” Trixie said to the saddlebag, throwing in some string and one of the apples. “I’m not staying around here until daybreak. Not with those ruffians quaffing the same vile concoction the foals were drinking too.”

Alarmed, the cat stood up, arching its spine. A yowl accused her. Not of anything specific: Trixie just thought it sounded generally accusatory, sharp and direct.

“I’m just heading out.” Trixie slung the saddlebag over her head. “There was a jug in the Waters. I’ll bet anything our mystery poison is coming from there, but there’s only one way to find out. I might be some time.”

When she went for the rear entrance, however, the cat leaped in her way. Irritably, Trixie tried to sidestep around it, but the cat simply skipped to the left when she went left, and skipped to the right when she went right. In the end, she levitated the animal aside, leaving white marks where its claws raked the floorboards.

“What’s gotten into you?” she muttered on her way past.

Er, Trixie? Aren’t you forgetting what happened the last time that cat went paranoid?

Barely had she stepped out of the “BAR” and onto the edge of the forest when the suspicion hit her around the head. She pressed her back against the wall.

Something growled.

The growl suggested a mouthful of fangs, drool vibrating with sheer hatred, and a beast crouched to strike. Trixie lowered her lantern, wishing she’d brought some kind of covering for the thing. Out here, it was an ember among ash.

Her ears swivelled on her head. As far as she could tell, the creature making that noise was in the street. Sloshing sounds followed, as of feet dragging through the puddles.

Slowly, back pressed against the wall, Trixie slid across to the corner. Heart trying not to explode through shock, head trying not to stick out too much, she peered round the woodwork to see.

White trails marked where the four legs cut through the road. Hot breath crystallized between the gleaming of fangs. Two eyes, however, glowed with a fiery brilliance. The creature could’ve had a lantern in its skull.

Trixie felt her stomach plummet, her eyes widen, her legs tremble. Ancient instincts rose up, remembering primeval plains below twilit skies, the urge to flee at the slightest shadows, and in the darkness, the rumbling, growling shock of a hidden hunter. This was a sound that crept past the adult mind to strangle the foalish fears cowering in the spine.

The creature stopped. The eyes went down low. A snout sniffed. Then, Trixie heard the sloppy working of jaws.

What’s there to eat? she thought. There’s nothing in the road but rocks. Or have the snails come out tonight?

It looked up sharply, and Trixie realized her mistake. Two eyes, yes, but on one side of its face. She found herself pinned down by four orange, glowing glowers.

Urgently, she forced herself back to the wall. Her insides burned as though they’d writhed and thrashed within that creature’s staring fire. Even looking out at the darkness, she saw four purple afterimages still glowing stubbornly, determined not to let her forget.

Her gaze fell to the ground. Too late, she saw the edge of the lantern’s cast light fell beyond the corner. That creature could see the orange if it wanted to.

Moments later, the sloppy working of jaws returned. Trixie let out a breath.

Instinct seized her.

She almost screamed: a hoof-sized lump bumped against her rear cannon. Jolted with shock, she glanced down.

Beside her, the cat nudged her leg again and mewed.

Trixie rubbed her face with a hoof. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she hissed.

Her ears twitched towards the corner, from which came the reassuringly constant sloppy working. “What is that? Some kind of forest monster? Oh no. It’s Ponyville all over again…”

Yet when she peered around the corner again, her gaze gradually absorbed more of the night. She could make out its silhouette, though merely as a deeper shadow among shadows. One hunched shoulder stood out, to fuzzy fur running down a sloping back. Ahead of the four legs, the muzzle was long and topped by two rounded, bending ears.

“A dog?” she murmured. A big, black dog wandering the village at night? Haven’t I heard a story like that before…?

Yet she dismissed the nightmare. Her face hardened into a frown. All this proved was that nowhere was safe. Checking that the dog was still occupied, she leaped across the gap to the next building, lantern still levitating beside her, and proceeded on the tips of her hooves along to the next corner, waiting to leap again.

Trixie’s lantern soon found no more timber walls; only ferns and road gravel. She’d reached the threshold. Remnants of civilization on one side. Forest path on the other.

To her surprise, the black cat leaped out in front of her. A mew stopped her short.

“What?” she whispered.

The black cat blinked and mewed again.

“Forget it. I’m not waiting till morning. If those foals are asleep like good little children, then I can fish that jar out unhindered.”

Assuming you can remember the route when it’s this dark. Slight flaw in your plan, Little Miss Bravado.

As if reading her thoughts, the cat mewed a third time. Trixie reared up for a big speech – the dog sneezed and sprayed droplets pattering over puddles – and then lowered herself again.

“I can’t wait while it’s this dangerous all over. Anyway, I’m in the mood now,” she whispered pleadingly. “If I don’t do it, who will? So come on. Out of my way.”

The cat did leap aside, but then yowled and nodded its head. Trixie raised her lantern. This patch of forest looked just like any other. She turned back to her original route, and the cat barred her way.

Odd. And a little annoying. Experimentally, Trixie turned to the side. Once again, the cat leaped aside and yowled and nodded its head. Trixie looked from its eyes shining golden under the lantern’s light, to the barely distinguishable patch of ferns.

“You want me to go this way?” she whispered, still aware of how close the dog’s sounds were; the beast was snuffling.

The black cat nodded its head. For a moment, Trixie swore a smile flashed across its face. Then her unexpected companion crept through the ferns, slinking under the leaves.

Trixie lowered the lantern to the ground. Out in the forest, any light would only give her away. She’d been hoping to use rare sparkles from her horn to check on her progress. Admittedly, she wasn’t sure how one found one’s way in a forest, but presumably there were signs an expert tracker could follow. Perhaps she could’ve picked some tricks up on the job.

Hissing, the black cat whipped her nose with its tail. Trixie winced and crouched in readiness for another. The hissing lowered to a purr.

“What now?” Trixie hissed. “You want me to walk like this?”

Two shining golden eyes appeared for a moment and then nodded once. Then they vanished; she could only follow the cat by the slight tickle of its tail on her muzzle.

“Swell,” muttered Trixie, creeping forwards. “Led by a stray kitty. If it wasn’t for the foals, this would be the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to me today.”

All around her, the night drowned in pure silence. Trixie kept her mouth closed the rest of the way. Far behind, the slosh of four legs almost covered the snuffle of a giant snout. The lantern’s light was a distant memory.

---

Trixie crept on through the void, keeping pace with the twirl and caress of the tail’s tip. Fronds ran like fingers across her back. Rain-battered earth squelched and oozed under her belly and under her legs. Hardly any warmth remained; it slowly seeped out of her and vanished into the gloom.

She stopped straining her eyes and closed them instead. So long as she could feel her way through, it didn’t matter that this made no difference anyway. However, she favoured any excuse not to focus on a night so unnatural and absolute. Dark fantasies insisted on filling the void. This way, at least she could pretend it was sunny.

When she’d been younger, she’d never slept without a nightlight. Something spoke to her in pure shadows. Something primeval.

As she crept under bushes, Trixie swore she heard faint noises every now and then. First, the clatter of hooves over a distant hill made her freeze on the spot. She didn’t dare move until the cat’s tail returned and wiped a few beads of sweat off her face. Next, a howl echoed over the treetops. Whether wolf, dog, or an even stranger beast, it was hard to tell. Then, the rattling groan: an unseen throat sucked at the air, trying to slurp up whatever hideous food could satisfy its owner. Regardless, any time Trixie stiffened her ears and tried to aim her head at each sound, the silence stared at her again and said nothing.

Don’t you start losing your mind, she thought warningly. There’s enough of that going around.

“Are we almost there?” she whispered after what felt like… One hour? Two hours? Impossible to say anymore.

The tickle along her face vanished. Trixie stopped in mid-crawl at once.

“Cat?” she whispered, wishing her voice didn’t go up so high. “Cat? Are you there?”

As soon as she stretched out a groping leg to find her guide, her hoof slapped against a surface. Water splashed. Chills tingled across her foot.

Right in her ear, the cat purred. She felt its small head nudge her neck encouragingly.

Glancing about – for all the good that’d do – Trixie risked a glint at the tip of her horn. One blue star flickered on the surface in tandem.

“Excellent.” Trixie removed her saddlebag and plunged a hoof inside. “I hope this is the right spot, or we’ll be busy for a while. Get comfortable, my feline friend.”

The cat’s yowl rose at the end. To Trixie’s ears, it sounded questioning.

“We’re fishing for one metal jar, if you must know. Observe.”

She scooped out the rope. Now this old trick was scarcely good enough material for the Fantastic Hack, but right there and then, she wasn’t picky. A twirl of her forelimbs, the age-old weave-and-bob of hooves, a slight glow of her horn, and…

Best pat it, just to make sure it’s the right shape. It is the right shape, isn’t it? Good!

“Done,” she murmured. “One improvised net, ready for the catch.”

Having thus delivered the closest thing her whisper could get to a “Ta-da!”, Trixie concentrated on her magic – better control of the contours that way – and threw the splaying net out across the void. A thin splash followed the winking out of the blue light. In case of watchers, Trixie pulled a peaked cap out of the saddlebag and covered her horn. Thankfully, no one could’ve criticized her shoddy accessory, though she soon wished she’d pinched one that didn’t itch so much.

Three… two… one… and that should give it enough time to settle. Now, to haul it in.

No sign of the net appeared until blue threads cleared the surface. Within the dribbling mass that hovered over her, smooth stones clattered over each other. A horseshoe reflected the light briefly before a stone tumbled onto it. Grimacing, Trixie upturned the lot and waited for the splashes to subside.

“I can’t say my hopes were high,” she whispered. “Again.”

Once more, she cast the net. Once more, she counted. And, regrettably, once more she had to stare at polished stones. This time, twigs and slimy white dots tumbled among them. On closer inspection under her blue light, the slimy white dots turned out to be crawdads.

Over and over and over she cast, she counted, she stared, and she threw the lot back, catch after catch after catch. Hope faded within her. Soon, she lost count, but shuffled along what she guessed was the riverbank and cast anew.

Beside her, the black cat hissed.

Trixie didn’t waste any time, but ducked down as low as she could go. Her chin almost bounced off the earth.

What now?

Across the invisible lake, orange eyes wandered past. Two more glowed some way beneath, shimmering slightly. A reflection, she thought. It has to be.

Twigs and stems crackled under each footfall. Briefly, the orange eyes flashed in her direction, all four of them and their reflections. Pattering paws followed. Finally, the creature scanned the other way, all eyes disappearing from view. Trixie didn’t breathe again until the steps died away.

Beside her, the black cat hissed again and crashed through the vegetation. Caught by surprise, Trixie rose up at once.

“Wait,” she whispered urgently after it. “You can’t leave me like this! Come back!”

Silence returned to stare at her. Her hoof was half-raised to follow. Under the omnipresent stare of the night, she lowered it again.

“Don’t leave me in the dark,” she moaned.

Why? That was your plan to begin with. What difference does it make really if one kitty absconds?

“Shut up, Common Sense. I’ve already put Conscience on my blacklist. Don’t make me put you on it as well.”

Trixie didn’t dare pull up the net. Moments ago, she could’ve yanked the blue-lit strands without issue. Suddenly, it seemed too reckless. Not all the eyes in the forest would glow.

Branches whispered under a slight wind. She was sure insects were crawling along her back.

“Don’t leave me behind,” she murmured, in spite of the way her common sense rolled its eyes at her. “I’m not used to all this… this nature…”

“What’s wrong with it?” said a voice.

Trixie fought not to scream; her body shuddered under the strain.

“Eeeeeeeeeeyah!” she squeaked as quietly as she could. “For Pete’s sake! Don’t do that!”

“Calm down,” said the purring voice, and Trixie heard the smile in it. “It’s only me.”

“Why are you spying on me?” Trixie snapped. “Do you have any idea how creepy that is?”

When she next spoke, Felicity’s voice croaked with pain. “I only wanted to help you. I told you. This place is dangerous. You saw that beast just now.”

“I don’t need help.” Trixie hauled the net out of the depths: still no jug.

“Believe me, you do need – and you will need – all the help you can get. Those things are always looking for victims.”

Trixie peered out across the lake, but since she couldn’t tell where water ended and land began, she basically stared at pure blackness. “All right, let’s say for the sake of argument that I do need some information. A kind of help, if you will.”

“Don’t worry. It’s gone. But that was just one of them. There are dozens like that lurking in this forest.”

Pretending not to lean towards the voice – somewhere to her left, she figured – Trixie cast the net again and watched the criss-crossing blueness vanish.

In the manner of one too terrified to even speak the name, Felicity squeaked, “They’re… Warnings.”

“Uh huh.” Trixie counted under her breath. “For what?”

“You know. Just… Warnings. ‘Don’t wander off’; ‘don’t pick your nose’; ‘don’t sleep in on a workday’: that sort of thing. And if a foal does that sort of thing anyway, then they become targets for the… Warnings.”

Is that a jug? Oh, as you were. Just a chunk of scrap metal. “Looked like a black dog to me,” she said as she threw the lot back.

“That one was merely an Omen; not much of a Warning. Omens only appear when someone’s seriously ill. It’s a warning sign that they’re not going to make it. No, there are worse ones than that…”

While the frightened squeak-of-a-voice crept on, Trixie shuffled further along and cast the net. Huh. Wild foals, idiocy-inducing Waters, strangers who think spying on you is helpful, and now monsters. If I ever get out of this, I’m telling all and sundry to steer clear of this place.

“…and then there’s one that jumps out at you if you don’t brush your teeth, or if you rush the job.”

Trixie realized she’d missed something. “One what, sorry?”

“One Warning. Are you listening to me?”

“I’m trying to listen out for anything sneaking up on us, if you must know.”

Felicity breathed heavily. “You should’ve left when you had the chance.”

“I didn’t have a chance.” Trixie fought against the chills clinging to her spine. “Look. Will you stop going on about it, please? I’m jumpy enough as it is.”

“You won’t win in this place. Don’t you understand? This isn’t just another pretty woodland home. This forest is alive. It’s hard to explain, but somehow it… listens to you. And it’s ancient. So ancient that it’s said to have existed before magic itself. It knows what lurks in the hearts of ponies. All those foalhood fears and secret terrors that adults won’t admit to… they have meaning here.”

“Oh, phooey. Don’t be so melodramatic.”

All the same, Trixie could feel herself stirring under the layers of bluff and busyness. Even as she sighed and emptied the net again, her insides squirmed at the emptiness of the world around her. In her mind’s eye, four orange glares burned fiercely. She could imagine Adder Stone, still staring at some random patch of ground, not remotely aware of the foals that should’ve been playing in the village that morning. And hadn’t she wondered, earlier that day, whether the trees harboured wandering ghosts among the dreary greens and browns?

Much earlier than she’d planned to, Trixie shuffled along the bank. Away from Felicity’s voice.

“The Great and Powerful Trixie has a duty to uphold.” Trixie willed herself to be still and steady. She cast the net one more time. “I just have to get rid of this poison, whatever it turns out to be.”

“You can’t save the foals so easily, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, is that so? You wait and see, my faithless friend. You wait and see.”

Comments

[RTStephens]

Huh, a rather interesting mystery Trixie's found herself in. And miss kitty is only adding to it.

Nice to see Trixie warring with herself, wanting to get the Hell out of there but still wanting to do some good. Trixie's a complicated character under the right circumstances.

Looking forward to more!

[Impossible Numbers]

8422447

Delighted to have passed muster! This was my first test run with Trixie, and I admit that one of the reasons I avoided her was because I had a hard time trying to find the right angle from which to develop her character. Judging from your feedback, I seem to be on the right track.

One thing I wanted to bring up though is why Trixie didn't try using her magic to get her out of this. It doesn't even cross her mind. Even a little telekinesis could have loosened her bonds. Perhaps she was too flabbergasted?

Whoops! Oh boy, do I wish I hadn't overlooked that aspect of her now. I was focusing on her as primarily a mare of cunning and trickery rather than of significant magical power, but even so that's an obvious solution to her predicament that needs addressing. If ever I come back and continue this (here's hoping*), I'll have to include an edit to that effect.

* The good news is that I do have a complete story plan for this, so the overall shape of the narrative is clear to me. The bad news is that I have yet to expand it to a full stretch of prose. That and I'm fighting off about a dozen other things after my attention, of course.

Nice to see Trixie warring with herself, wanting to get the Hell out of there but still wanting to do some good. Trixie's a complicated character under the right circumstances.

In all honesty, this is probably one of the most, if not the most, important factor that led to me writing this. She's not a standard hero by any means, but one way of looking at her Ursa Major story was to see it as an expressed desire to be a hero, even if only by making stuff up. And since she is a magician, and children especially are in awe of magic tricks and skilful conjuring, the rest pretty much took off from there.

I am very grateful you took the time to give me such delightful feedback. It really has made my day.

[Phaoray]

Awww, just remembered this story. Sad there is no new chapters, I was really into what was happening.