Gloaming

by Rambling Writer

3 - Settling In

The rest of lunch passed uneventfully. Clearwater and I chatted for a bit longer before she left, taking my book with her. I polished off the last of my apple and went back to the grindstone.

The autopsies hadn’t turned up much; what about where the bodies were found? I found the most detailed map of Delta and the surrounding area that I could (it was surprisingly comprehensive), stuck it to some posterboard, and leafed through the incident reports, marking the relevant sites with pins.

It was almost the polar opposite of the autopsies, but just as disappointing. The bodies had been found scattered around Delta without much rhyme or reason. In the middle of a forest here, near a river there, up a mountain here, at the bottom of a cliff there. And yet, the catch? They were definitely centered on, or somewhere near, Delta. Not one of the bodies was more than twenty miles away, and most were nearer than fifteen.

I rubbed my chin as I stared at one of the pins. It was the closest to the city center and marked the second body found, not too far from Delta’s Chapel of Harmony. (It’d actually been found shortly after one of the services.) The more I looked at it, the more I thought I needed to visit it. Maps were useful, but though you knew what the land was like, you couldn’t feel what the land was like. Maybe each location had some sort of quality that attracted whatever creature was doing this. I doubted it — quite a lot, if I was honest with myself — but I needed to tick off all the possibilities I could. Once, a batch of timberwolves spontaneously going rabid had turned out to be the result of a confluence of minor ley lines, the kind that don’t cause much geographic shift, disrupting their arcane structure and driving them insane. I only figured that out when I was brave/stupid/desperate enough to visit their den during the day, when they were out, and the ley energies made me feel nauseated within minutes.

I quickly selected a few more nearby pins, marking off a tentative path. If I was going to visit the sites of death, I was going to do it efficiently. Not like my first time out; I still cringed at how inexperienced I’d been. I also separated out the reports for the relevant deaths; I’d take them along, just in case.

Of course, before I could do anything like visit some of the death sites, I’d need to clarify a few things. I trotted down to Cascadia’s door and knocked; Cascadia yelled out, “Come in!”

I opened the door a little and poked my head in. “Uh, hey, Cascadia?”

“Hmm?” Cascadia asked, looking up from the report she was filling out.

“How much oversight do you want with me? Should you know where I am every second of every day? Just check in mornings and evenings?”

“Well, I want to know what you’re doing, but you know what to do better than me, so…” Cascadia shrugged. “I can’t really command you. Mornings and evenings oughta be fine.” She paused and tapped her hoof on her desk. “Actually, you don’t even need to check in; just tape a note to your door or something saying what you’re out for. Like, ‘searching the forest to the north’.”

So I could more-or-less perform the investigation how I saw fit. Perfect. I’d had far too many police chiefs who thought they could do my job better than me (technically, just one, but that was still far too many) and not quite too many who kept as tight a rein as possible without stifling me. “Got it. Just FYI, I’m heading out tomorrow to get a feel for some of the sites.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

I whiled away the last few hours of the day by brainstorming. Unfortunately, it didn’t go anywhere and, rather than having lightning strike, just left my head in a mess. This was just too strange for me to say anything about it from the info I already had, and I had a nagging suspicion that any further deaths (if there even were any) wouldn’t shed much light on things. Already, this was one of the most bizarre cases I’d ever had, and my first day wasn’t even done yet.

I glanced at the clock. Actually, it was done. Just barely. I gathered my things together, shuffled my papers into piles that looked reasonably neat, and wished I’d brought a coat to work; the rain outside was still coming down. I stepped into the downpour, briefly held up a leg to shield my eyes, then stopped pretending it was doing anything. It wasn’t terrible, but a walk home in the rain was a walk home in the rain, which wasn’t fair when I’d already walked to work in the rai-

“Uh, pardon! Ranger Swan!”

Homeguard came trotting out of the police station, moving strangely, like he didn’t want to gallop. He slowed a stop in front of me; I noticed he wasn’t breathing all that heavily. He waved. “Um, uh, hello. I’m-”

“Homeguard.” I almost smacked myself. I’d said I’d try to find him, right? And yet I’d completely forgotten about him until now. “I heard.”

He twitched. And Clearwater had said he wasn’t high-strung? Yeah, right. “Um. Yes.” He swallowed. “I- I wanted to apologize for my behavior this morning. It was… not the best first impression, I admit. I was merely taken by surprise and did not handle it as well as I ought to have.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” I said, waving a hoof. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Nevertheless,” he said quickly, “I would prefer it- if we- started over.” He extended his hoof and grinned sheepishly. “Homeguard. Lieutenant Homeguard, if you would prefer specificity. Delta Fire Department.”

“If you would prefer specificity”? What was with this guy? I brushed the thought aside and shook. “Ranger Swan.” I glanced over my shoulder for a moment. “Can you walk and talk? I don’t want to be in this rain longer than I have to.”

“Yes, absolutely. Lead on.” Once we were off, he forced a cough and said, “Have you learned anything? About the deceased animals?”

“Not yet,” I said. “The reports have been good, but can only go so far. I’m going to visit some of the sites tomorrow to see if they feel strange. Maybe there’s something going on with the magic in the area.”

Homeguard twitched again and fixed me with those weirdly golden eyes. “Do you really think that?” he asked in a low voice.

I tried for a staring contest and lost in seconds. “Not really,” I said as I turned away. “But I need to exhaust all the possibilities I can. It’d just suck if we kept running in circles for moons, then I visited a few places and went, ‘Rogue destructive arcane reaction.’”

“Ah. So, eh, what do you think you will do if you cannot find the cause?”

“Dunno,” I said with a shrug. “Get another, more specialized ranger to help, probably. I’m not the most experienced one in Equestria. And if we still can’t figure it out, well… The world has its mysteries. This would just have to be one of the unsolved ones.”

“Has that happened before?”

“A few times, from what I’ve heard. Not often, and never to me.”

“Hmm.” Homeguard stared off into the rain.

I gave him a sideways look. “Why’re you looking like that? It’s part of my job to know things. It’s the entire reason I’m here. Even if this… thing never lays a claw or tentacle or whatever on a pony, we can’t let it keep killing animals. If nothing else, the decreased predator population will result in too much of their prey surviving, throwing the ecosystem out of whack and making things hard for wildlife management teams.”

“I know,” said Homeguard. “But, ah…” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “I was… merely curious…” Back to me. “…about how determined you were to see this incident through.”

“Honestly, I’ll find the answer if it kills me.”

I began to question if Clearwater really knew Homeguard when he went rigid enough to stop walking for a second. This guy was acting like he’d never had a normal conversation before. I left him behind and was several yards away before he remembered that he needed to move his limbs to walk. He laughed, but it was terribly forced. “Well, ah, may your investigation not proceed that poorly!” he said, faux-brightly. “And you do mean that literally, correct?”

“You don’t punch a chimera in the face without knowing your life is on the line.”

“…Really?”

“Really really. And every single one of its faces. Not simultaneously, though.”

“How… did…” We were at an intersection; I went one way, but Homeguard broke off when he went the other. “I’m sorry I cannot go with you now, so you must tell me later!” he yelled as we separated. “It sounds fascinating!”

“Sure!” But when he was gone, I rolled my eyes. “Fascinating”? Yeah. That was one way to put it. Who even used “fascinating” anymore?

---

I could smell something cooking once I opened the door. I thought it was lasagna. I shrugged my saddlebags off onto the floor (I’ve never really gotten over that habit from my teenage years) and headed for the kitchen, working my way around boxes that hadn’t yet been unpacked. The oven was lit and Levanta was leaning on the counter, reading a book. Just as I walked in, she opened the oven and looked inside for a moment. “Hey, Mom,” she said flatly. “Just making sure the oven’s good. Dinner’s cooking fine.”

“Thanks,” I said. “How was your day?”

“Effh.”

I wished I was half as good at translating Adolescent Grunt as Thunderhead had been. “Is that a good ‘effh’ or a bad ‘effh’?”

“Eh.” Levanta turned a page and shrugged. “Alright.”

“Anything special?”

“Not really.”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing.”

Stupid teenage monosyllability. “Really? Nothing happened all day?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mom. You know how it is. I was dumped into a room full of ponies I didn’t know and lectured at for an hour seven times.”

“How’re your teachers? Did you me-”

“Mom, I’m making dinner.”

So that was how it was going to be: obstinate, stubborn- And I regretted the thought before I finished it. She hadn’t chosen this. She had a lot on her plate. Considering how much we moved, I was lucky this was the first time she was this withdrawn and quiet. But since it was the first time she behaved like this, I knew nothing about helping her.

Tomorrow, I told myself. You’ll get something out of her tomorrow, no ifs, ands, or buts. She needs some time, but not that much.

“Alright,” I said. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Mmhmm.”

Dinner was more of the same. Terse responses, a lack of eye contact, a voice with a thorough lack of interest in just about everything. I had to pry just to get what subjects she was taking. When Levanta finished her dinner, she deposited her plate and silverware in the sink and went straight up to her room. I yelled up after her that the lasagna was delicious (it really was, even if it was a simpler recipe than usual) and got nothing back but a possibly affirmative mumble.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

I was midway through cleaning the dishes when the doorbell rang. I almost didn’t know what it was at first, not having heard the doorbell yet. But the bigger issue was that nopony here knew where I lived yet and nopony had much of a reason to talk to me outside of work. So why-?

The doorbell rang again.

I squinted through the peephole and sucked in a breath in surprise. Crooked River was on the doorstep, an earth mare leaning lightly on him. They were whispering something to each other. Part of me, a part I should’ve listened to, was disturbed that he’d found my house, but most of me was just pissed at seeing him again. Against my better judgement, I yanked the door open.

Already, River was grinning that strange smile of his, and it still didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, Swan!” he said brightly. “I-”

“What are you doing at my house?” I snapped.

“I-” He seemed caught off-guard. “I just wanted to-”

“Just what in Celestia’s name are you doing at my house?!”

“Well, if you let me talk,” he sniped, “you’d know!”

“Not interested. Go away.” And I slammed the door in his face.

Or tried to.

River’s leg snapped up in an instant and he braced the door with a hoof. “C’mon…” he said, back to sunny again. He casually pushed the door open a little. “Just lemme talk.” And when I say “casually”, I mean “casually”. I was bracing myself against the door, trying to push it shut, but it didn’t feel like it was costing him any effort at all. Even if I’m not the strongest earth pony out there, I’m still in the upper fifty percent. He still should’ve struggled a little. My throat suddenly seemed too tight to breathe.

Before I could respond, the mare spoke up. “Now, now, River,” she said in a raspy voice. “You’re being aggressive again. Remember what we said about being aggressive?” I peeped around the door; even as she was reprimanding River, she didn’t seem to put-out by his actions. In fact, she was looking at him with vague amusement.

“Speckle,” River protested, “I-”

“What? Did? We say?” But Speckle’s voice wasn’t stern or remonstrative. It was light, teasing, almost playful, yet also slightly condescending, like something a mother might say to an overemotional toddler.

My heart pounding, I pushed on the door. It didn’t budge an inch. I don’t think they even noticed me.

River groaned through clenched teeth and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t put his hoof down. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Won’t let-”

Speckle lightly bopped him on the back of the head and pushed his hoof aside. “Sweetie. Let me handle this.” Just as casually as River had, she pushed the door open. I thanked Celestia that she didn’t try to make a move inside. In the better light, I saw that she had the most scarlet eyes I’d ever imagined; I had to keep myself from shivering. “I apologize for Crooked River,” she said. “He’s an idiot with no social skills.”

“Hey!”

“He wanted to apologize for the way he treated you yesterday.” Speckle smiled at me, but even more than River, it didn’t look right. It felt smug, maybe even mocking. “It was a bit out of line, don’t you think?”

My mouth felt dry as I said, “Yeah. Kinda. Sure.”

“And he’s…” Speckle glanced back at River and chuckled. “He’s not a ponies pony, so he doesn’t always know the best way to say something.”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” I said. “I get it. But- But in the future, could you- not just- walk right up to me and start-”

“I won’t,” River said quickly. “Sorry for yesterday.”

“Right.” I swallowed. “Thanks.”

Silence fell where the rain didn’t. Suddenly, Speckle said, “Welp! That’s that! Thanks for your time, and g’night!” She turned around and walked off into the night. River glanced at me; he might’ve smirked, but that might’ve been my imagination. Then he followed her away.

The moment I closed the door, I collapsed, hugging myself to stop shaking and breathing heavily.

How the fuck had they found my house? Nopony else knew where I was living. I hadn’t told anypony. I wasn’t in any address books yet. And yet River already knew where my home was. And he had chosen to “apologize” to me by casually walking up to me in my house. There was something more to this. There had to be. And even if she wasn’t helping him, Speckle knew what was going on. For all she said, she’d been watching us like River was a drunk, incompetent cat trying to catch me, a mouse in a bucket. She’d enjoyed it.

I looked through the peephole. I couldn’t see either of them through the rain. I still flicked the bolt shut. Then I tugged over a box of shovels and other yard gear and put it in front of the door.

I didn’t sleep well that night.

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Who even used “fascinating” anymore?

(Looks at his previous comment)
(Coughs awkwardly)

You know, I never noticed how awkward it is when you equinize "people person" before now. Though I suppose it's no worse than "man's man."

In any case, you've established a wonderfully creepy atmosphere, with both Homeguard's awkward fumbling, Crooked's concentrated sleaze, and Speckle's menacing condescension. Eagerly looking forward to more.

[Bugsydor]

Well, these equinoid abominations are sufficiently creepy and uncanny. And Swan Dive is reacting wholely appropriately. Good work.

And the mystery of the exsanguinated predators is fascinating to watch, even if we the readers already have a good idea of what's going on.

[AppleTank]

So I've got 3 suspects now.

[redmar]

Crooked River is a really shady character and Speckles isn't any better. Homeguard is acting highly suspicious he knows more about the killings than he lets on.