> The Most Dangerous Game
>  by Warren Peace
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> Part One
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“YOU’D BE surprised how many things that might seem scary stop scarin’ ya once ya deal with ‘em, mister Rate,” a middle-aged pegasus with a sea blue coat and foam white mane began, trotting up to the railing and throwing his forehooves over it, “very few things in life an old seastallion like me still fears...but we’ll be nearin’ one of ‘em soon enough.”
Burst Rate looked away from his camera, which he’d been polishing with a dark orange hoof, setting his keen gaze on the other pony with one eye squinting just a bit.
The sea air nipped at the pegasus’ navy blue jacket, his tense jaw clamped tight around an old cob pipe. His eyes held something that Burst had never seen before as they flickered across the sea...looking for something.
Fear.
“Okay, Captain,” Burst replied, letting go of his camera and letting it hang around its black strap, “I’ll bite. What is it that we’re approaching.” a smile split his face, “Don’t tell me that you’re afraid of this storm,” he gestured skywards with a hoof.
“Hah!” the Captain replied, “there’s nothin’ to fear from a storm so long as you’ve got the skill to beat it. Even then,” he looked skywards, squinting as he did so, “this is hardly a storm, more of a bad overcast,” the Captain set his gaze back on the sea, sliding the cob pipe to the other side of his mouth with his lips. The only sound that the two heard was the quiet splash of waves against the side of the yacht as it pushed its way through the ocean.
When the Captain began again, his voice was quiet and dead serious, “No, what we’re approachin' is somethin' far worse than any storm, mister Rate...It’s somethin’ that any sailor with a bit of sanity in his mind ought to fear worse than Nightmare Moon herself.”
“Nightmare Moon?” Burst Rate asked, a doubtful smile crossing his face as he looked out to sea, “I’d hardly call her something that a sane pony ought to fear. She’s nothing more than an old mare’s tale,” he said dismissively.
“Hey,” the Captain gave Burst a poke on the chest, getting his attention, “Don’t be dismissin’ Nightmare Moon as an old mare’s tale, ‘specially not at sea. It’s by her stars and moon that a sailor is guided by night,” he looked back out to sea, muttering, “bad luck to offer her insult.”
“Whatever you say, Captain,” Burst replied, pausing for a second, “So what is it that we’re approaching, then?”
The Captain was silent for a few moments, he slid the cob pipe back to the other side of his mouth again, squinting eyes searching the sea as if for sea monsters.
“Ship-Trap Island...” the Captain said, voice slow and deliberate, letting the words drop from his tongue like a pony falling off a cliff.
A sudden breeze kicked up, forcing Burst to shield his eyes with a hoof and pulling at the Captain’s clothing like a great many small hands. The Captain continued, unfazed.
“It’s an island, rocks with razor edges crouch like a sea monster with wide-open jaws surround it, making it inaccessible by even the most skilled sailors. A great many have tried,” the Captain looked back at Burst for a moment, “their ships now rest in pieces around the island, a fair warning for any darin' enough to consider gettin’ close.”
“So you have to rescue any survivors by airship, then?” Burst asked.
The Captain looked over at Burst again, “Survivors?”
“I take it that some of the crews are able to escape to shore?” Burst inquired.
The Captain held Burst’s gaze for a moment longer before looking back out to sea, “There’s never any survivors. They’d send out search parties, look for any ponies who might’ve washed ashore all right...but they never find any survivors.
“There was once a rescue party desperate enough to land on the island in order to look on hoof...” his voice grew quiet, quiet and afraid, “they disappeared as well, a party sent after them scanned the island from the air, but saw nothing of their airship...it just vanished, vanished like everything else that touches that damned island.”
“How could they just disappear into thin air?” Burst asked doubtfully, though his resolute attitude bore a single crack, his eyes flicking out towards the water.
Again the Captain didn’t answer straight away, holding off for a few seconds before he replied, “Nopony knows. The island is covered entirely in a forest," he gave wing-shrug, "perhaps Timberwolves prowl in those darkened woods, waiting for some poor soul to land on their beaches...perhaps something worse.”
The Captain slid the cob pipe to the other side of his mouth again, pulling his hooves back over the railing as he did so.
“If ya keep a wary eye starboard,” the Captain indicated over the side of the ship they were next to, “ya might catch a glimpse of Ship-Trap,” he nodded towards the camera around Burst’s neck as he trotted off, “might make a good picture. Have yourself a nice evening, mister Rate.”
“You too, Captain,” Burst replied, looking off the starboard side.
Warm Mareibbean waters met his gaze, ocean waves bobbing the yacht up and down in near silence, splashing up against the sides, the sails snapping in the wind.
Nothing but clear, open water greeted his gaze, stretching to the horizon under the cover of dark clouds overhead.
“Creepy,” Burst muttered to himself, looking back out to sea.
As the yacht pushed onwards, a low fog began to creep in towards the vessel, surrounding it from a ways away and making the distant horizon disappear under a cold, grey sheath.
A chill filled Burst’s guts like an icy dagger at the side of the fog, and upon realizing this, he frowned and shook his head.
“You’re letting a little thing get to you, Burst,” he berated himself, “It’s just some fog, the Captain’s story’s just getting to you.”
And then it appeared, like a beacon punching a hole through the fog. At first Burst thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, he leaned further over the side of the yacht and squinted his eyes at the thing taking shape.
Black, rising from the water and then dipping back in shortly thereafter, like a large  hill amongst rolling plains of water. Small black dots flitted above it, floating around like kites.
An island.
Burst raised his camera to his face with a combination of magic and forehooves, leaning forwards with his stomach against the railing for balance. He lined up the shot, placing the island in the middle of the viewfinder lens. It would be a perfect picture.
The light fog surrounded the black shape of the island as he snapped off a picture, a mechanical whir meeting his ears as the shutter snapped open and closed faster than the blink of an eye.
Burst brought the camera away from his face, winding up for the next shot with a hoof, eyes fixated on the island.
It’s got a rather intimidating beauty about it, he thought, might make a nice postcard in some Mareibbean tourist shop...
And then the ship hit another large wave, lurching violently.
Burst threw out his forehooves for balance, wobbling them in the air as he tilted dangerously close to the edge. In his panic he released his magical grip on his camera. The device dropped from the air, swinging on its strap and heading right for the outboard side of the rail.
Burst brought his forehooves together in a snap, leaning further forwards and catching the camera right before it smashed into the sight of the yacht.
“Phew,” he said, right before he flipped over the railing and splashed into the warm Mareibbean Sea below.
Burst sputtered to the surface, his green mane plastered across his face, blinding him. He moved it out of his eyes with a hoof, about to cry out when the wake of the yacht slapped him in the face, filling his mouth with salty sea water.
He gagged and strangled, spitting out the water and gasping for air as he began to paddle as fast as he could after the yacht.
“Hey!” he called out, “Wait! Hold on!”
But the yacht continued onwards. No heads poked over the stern and the vehicle didn’t deviate from its course as it sped off across the sea.
“No! Don’t leave me!” Burst tried again, giving up on chasing down the craft and instead paddling in place as the yacht met the fog, disappearing behind the thick whiteness, “No,” he groaned, floating in place.
His eyes grew wide, turning down in a panic.
“My camera!” he cried, spotting it beneath the water’s surface, still strapped around his neck, “No, no, no!” he continued, fishing it out with his hooves and holding it out of the water. He gave a low moan as sea water dripped from the ruined camera, “Great! Could this day get any bucking worse!?”
And then it started to rain.
Burst squinted upwards at the grey clouds above, great sheets of rain pelting down and making the water boil around him.
“Buck!” he yelled.
A flash of lightning accompanied his curse, a spear of white light splintering downwards from the heavens. A blast of thunder forced his ears against his skull soon after.
It was then that Burst remembered the black shape of the island. He twisted in the sea, letting his ruined camera go and paddling again with his forehooves. Which direction had the island been in?
Cursing his damned and drowning luck, Burst treaded water, turning until he spotted a blackness against the white fog. 
Upon seeing it he began to horsey-paddle his way towards the dark shape, the sea boiling up around him from the rain...


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...Fatigue stabbed at his limbs with daggers made of fire, desiring to drag him down under the boiling water.
He struggled against the sea, a chill beginning to permeate his drenched coat and his teeth chattering as his body tried any way it could to remain warm. His strong paddling had slowed down a bit from when he’d first entered the water, his body having grown sluggish as he continued to be drained of energy.
Come on, Burst, you can make it! he silently cheered himself on, You’ve been in tight situations before, just keep calm and swim on! You’re going to make it!
It was at this moment that a sound met his ears, a dull roar against this hissing of the rain against the sea. Burst slowed his swimming as he concentrated on it, the sound was familiar, almost like...
“Waves!” he exclaimed, now paddling with renewed vigor, “Waves crashing upon a shore!” 
He spat out some seawater, holding his head higher as his legs pulled him faster through the seas. He was going to make it after all!
But was that such a good thing?
He frowned at the stray thought as he remembered the Captain’s tale of Ship-Trap Island, presumably the one he was swimming up to now.
No, he reasoned, though a cold feeling that was growing in his gut refused to leave, I’d rather take a cursed island than drown any day of the week.
The sound of waves crashing upon the shore grew louder against the pounding rain and Burst soon felt as if some invisible hand were first pulling him back and then pushing him forwards ever so slightly.
Burst squinted up against the rain, he could now see a sandy beach that led up into what looked like dense, dark forests. The black dots of birds he’d seen earlier were now gone, the creatures no doubt having landed to take cover from the downpour.
Without warning, the sea surged forwards, accelerating Burst towards the lightly colored sands with a yelp of surprise. He hit something solid and he was flung head-over-hooves as the waves continued to force him forwards and onto the sandy beach.
He began to slow as the wave rode further up onto the sands, depositing him there like an offering to a mighty god. Burst coughed up seawater, pushing himself to his hooves and wobbling just a bit with fatigue.
A sharp wind bit into his soaked hide, making him begin to shiver. A bolt of lightning was spat towards the ground behind him, lighting up the forests for a split second.
He hurried up the beach as thunder rolled over him, knowing that he needed to get dry soon lest he catch a cold...or worse.
The trees offered a decent amount of cover from the rain, their densely packed bodies and leaves able to shield the ground from most of it. Burst halted for a moment and tried to rub some warmth into his body, looking this way and that through the thick foliage.
His teeth chattered as his eyes met the earthhy ground and he scanned for any sign of tracks, something that might show him the direction to, or not to, go. It was to his mild surprise when he did indeed spot what looked like paw prints in the dirt, leading off to his right in the jungle.
Squinting one eye just a little bit, he bent closer to the tracks, eyeing the depth of each step, how each was positioned to one another, and their age.
His first thought was that it might be a manticore, but the paws were neither large nor deep enough to be made by any creature of that size and weight. On top of that they were placed as if the creature that had made them was walking bipedally, not on all fours.
A griffon, maybe? What else has paws like that and can walk bipedally? he wondered, looking up for any sign of lost feathers and seeing none, Well, where there are griffon tracks, there are griffons. Where there are griffons, there is shelter.
His teeth still chattering, he started after the tracks, But what sentient creature would be in such forbidding a place? Those tracks are relatively fresh...perhaps he was stuck on this island as well?
So distracted was Burst by his thoughts that he almost missed when the tracks paused in what he took for a cramped clearing. It was only upon a second examination, that he noticed that the clearing wasn’t natural.
“S-Something got i-into a f-fight here,” he noted with chattering teeth as he saw the crushed grass and brush from struggling bodies, how the dirt was torn in a few places, the large bloodstain in the middle of it all...
Burst cringed at the sight of blood, but stepped closer to further examine the scene.
This time, he was able to find a few small and ruffled feathers, all of them a dull grey color.
A griffon for certain, then, he noted.
Upon further examination of the pool of blood, what appeared to be drag marks showed up, leading out of the clearing and trailed by occasional streaks of red.
Burst gingerly stepped closer to examine these, spying what he hoped was more paw marks preceding whatever was being dragged.
“S-some sort of s-scuffle,” he repeated, looking around the clearing once last time, “though with w-what, I d-don’t know.”
With that, he headed after the griffon’s trail, never noticing the second set of tracks that led to the clearing...hoofprints...


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...The trail had grown easier to follow. Whatever the griffon had dragged through here made a clear path through the dense underbrush. Burst’s teeth continued to chatter, his body shivering in an attempt to restore his body temperature.
The sky had grown a shade darker, the temperature dropping as rain and thunder continued to pound the canopy above him, few drops escaping through the tangle of leaves and branches to reach the ground.
All of a sudden the foliage dropped away, the forest opening up to a high bluff, three cliff sides diving into the roiling sea below. And situated on the bluff was something that took Burst’s breath away.
It was an enormous building; a lofty structure with pointed towers plunging upwards into the gloom. Large spiked gates enclosed the property, giving the whole thing an unfriendly look. Another flash of lightning erupted from the heavens, lighting up the large structure for a brief moment.
Burst grabbed his camera with both magic and hooves, instinctively bringing it to his eye and centering the viewfinder on the large structure...before remembering the long trip in the sea that he’d had.
“Dangit!” he groaned, cradling the destroyed camera in his hooves.
A violent blast of wind, bringing with it a blast of chilling rain reminded Burst that he had bigger problems to deal with. Pushing against the gale, he galloped towards the large estate, squinting his eyes against the pouring rain.
The large gate was oddly unlocked and Burst pushed past it as fast as he could, rushing up the marble steps to the door and almost slipping a few times in the process.
The massive, oaken door held a large steel knocker in the guise of a griffon’s head and Burst lifted it with his magic, slamming it against the door a few times as the rain cut into his soaked hide.
“Come on!” he yelled when no one came.
He reached out with his magic to lift the knocker again when the door swung open, golden light spilling out, silhouetting a massive earth pony. The color of the pony’s massive body reminded Burst of some borscht he’d once had in a visit to Stalliongrad. His short, two-tone mane, crimson and a brownish color that looked like dried blood, was tied back in a tight knot against his skull and a small crimson beard dangled from his scowling chin.
Two dull grey eyes regarded Burst coldly, a shoulder-mounted crossbow to the right of the pony’s head aimed right at him.
“D-don’t be alarmed,” Burst chattered with a smile that he hoped was disarming, “I’m n-no robber. I f-fell off a y-yacht. My n-name is Burst R-Rate of M-Manehattan.”
The menacing look in the pony’s eyes didn’t change. The crossbow aimed rigidly as if the pony was a statue. He gave no sign that he understood Burst’s words, or that he had even heard them.
“I’m B-Burst Rate of M-Manehattan,” Burst began again, “I f-fell off a yacht. I-I’m freezing.”
The pony’s only answer was to raise his right hoof to a stirrup-like mechanism below the crossbow. Burst’s eyes grew wide, and he froze up as the growing cold muddled his brain. He needed to move! He was going to be..!
“Cossack, ne strelyat',” a cultivated voice marked by a slight accent spoke up from behind the earth pony. The pony immediately dropped his hoof from the crossbow’s trigger, coming to a stiff attention with a click of his hooves on marble flooring, staring off above Burst’s head.
The large pony stepped aside and a griffon took his place, eyeing Burst up and down with a golden gaze. The majority of his body was a stormy grey, his feathers on his wings and head a much lighter shade. A white bandage was wrapped around his left shoulder and he had a small moustache protruding from his beak.
The griffon’s beak lit up in a smile, “Ah, Burst Rate!” he said, eyes alight with recognition, “I knew I recognized the name from somewhere. The great camera hunter, if I’m not mistaken?” he held out a clawed hand for shaking and Burst, after a moments hesitation, shook it.
“Yes...” Burst replied, a bit confused, “...y-you know my n-name?”
“But of course!” the griffon replied, he frowned as if noting the fact that Burst was drenched for the first time, “but please, do come in, you must be freezing after a trip through this storm.”
Burst nodded and trotted inside. The large pony slammed it shut behind him, “Yes, th-thank you, mister..?”
“Ah, my apologies for not introducing myself,” the griffon said with a small bow, “General Rayford, at your service,” the General turned to the earth pony, standing still like a statue off to the side, “Cossack, individual'noye mesto za stolom dlya nashego gostya zdes.'”
“You’re f-from Stalliongrad?” Burst asked, dripping and shivering on the marble floor as the large pony saluted and trotted off.
“Yes,” the General replied with a single nod, “Are you familiar with the language?”
Burst shook his head, “S-Sadly not, I’m a-afraid,” he looked down at himself, the growing puddle at his hooves, “S-Sorry if I’m d-dripping all over your n-nice flooring.”
“It’s just a bit of water, nothing to worry about,” the General replied with a smile, “I’ll have Wolf get you a towel,” then called off, “Wolf, pridi!”
“Thanks,” Burst said again, looking around. The walls were wide and tall, adorned with plenty of candles and pictures from across the globe. The black marble floor displayed an inverse reflection of him as he trotted up to one of them.
Burst opened his mouth to say something, but a scattle of claws over the marble cut him off. He looked up the hall a ways in time to see a slim-looking diamond dog with wolfish colored fur appear.
The dog halted when he spotted Burst, yellow eyes narrowing as he gave a low growl.
“Um...Wolf, I presume?” Burst mumbled as the General walked up beside him.
“Wolf,” the General began, earning Wolf’s instant attention, “Bud'te khoroshey sobakoy i prinesti nashemu drugu polotentsem.”
“Da, General,” Wolf replied with a growly voice, giving a quick salute before turning and running off again with a scattle of claws.
“Diamond dog?” Burst asked, a bit confused.
“One of my pack,” the General said with a proud smile, “I am a hunter, you see,” he gestured to a picture: the General stood with a smile and a bow over a dead manticore, “when my prey proves to be ruthless in their escape, I use them to help in my hunt,” he gave a chuckle, looking over at Burst, “Great sport, hunting.”
“The best in the world,” Burst agreed, still wet but no longer shivering. Wolf returned with a white bathrobe clenched in his jaws, offering it to Burst who took it with his magic and slipped it on.
“Indeed,” the General agreed. Somewhere in the bowels of the large mansion, a clock struck six, “ah, that reminds me,” he continued and started down the hallway, Burst followed, “I was having dinner prepared when you arrived and would be honored if you’d join me.”
“The honor would be mine,” Burst replied with a smile.
“Ah, but were there any others aboard your yacht that made it to shore? Or are you a sole survivor?” the General inquired.
“Oh, I just fell off is all. Trying to snap a picture of the island when she hit a rather large wave or something. I don’t think that anypony saw me so I swam to shore,” Burst replied.
“How unfortunate,” the General said, mostly to himself...


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…“Here we are,” the General said, gesturing expansively as he opened a door to the dining room. There was a medieval magnificence about it; it suggested a baronial hall of feudal times with its oaken panels, its high ceiling, its cast refectory tables where twoscore ponies could sit down to eat. About the hall were mounted heads of many specimens - manticores, timber wolves, hydras, bears, tigers; larger or more perfect specimens that Burst had never seen.
The General gestured to one of the two chairs with silverware set out before a large, steaming bowl filled with a reddish looking soup.
“You’ll have a cocktail, mister Rate,” the General suggested as the two seated themselves, “Cossack!” he ordered, the large, red earth pony from before stepping from the shadows. 
Acting as waiter, Cossack stepped forwards and took a bottle from the table, popping the cap and filling both the General’s and Burst’s cups.
“Thank you,” Burst said, earning only a glare from Cossack that made him flinch away before the giant turned and trotted back to a corner.
“Please excuse Cossack,” the General said apologetically, swirling his glass a little, “he’s mute and doesn’t understand a word of Equestrian, but please enjoy the drink,” he indicated with a dip of his own glass, “Imported from Equestria’s finest apple orchards.”
Burst lifted his drink with magic, eyeing the golden liquid for a moment before taking a sip and feeling the burn of hard cider course down his throat.
“Do you think it’s suffered from it’s long ocean trip?” the General asked, swirling a bit of his own drink in his mouth for a moment.
“Not in the least,” Burst replied, “I mean, I’m no connoisseur of fine drinks, but it’s still very good.”
“Hm,” the General replied with a swallow.
The two ate in silence for a while, having borscht, the rich, red soup with whipped cream so dear to Stalliongrad palates. Burst ate much faster than his host on account of the grueling ocean trip.
The General seems like such a nice fellow, a true Cosmopolite, Burst thought to himself, musing, almost makes falling off my yacht and swimming Celestia-knows-how-far to this island worth all the trouble!
Despite all this though, a question kept coming back to Burst’s head, how did the General know his name? He lifted his head, looking up from his mostly finished bowl of borscht and opening his mouth to ask only to find the General appraising his guest narrowly, swirling his glass ever so slowly in a single clawed hand. Burst shut his mouth, growing a bit uncomfortable under the stare.
“Perhaps,” began General Rayford, “you were surprised that I recognized your name,” Burst remained silent, “you see, I read all books on hunting published in Equestrian, Stalliongradi, Gríf, and Zebrikaans...though find the first two to be rather lacking. Anyways, I have but one passion in my life, mister Rate, and it is the hunt.”
“I can imagine,” Burst replied, eyeing all the heads mounted around the room, “that Hydra must’ve been tough to take down.”
“Ah, yes,” the General said, almost fondly, “the brute almost got me as well. Had I brought any lesser a bow, my arrows wouldn’t have pierced his scaly hide.”
“I’ve always thought Hydras to be the most dangerous game to track,” Burst stated, “one whiff of pony and they’ll be onto you in a heartbeat.”
The General replied with silence, content to just sit there and smile, staring at Burst. Two diamond dogs came, taking the two’s mostly finished bowls and placing two salads before them.
“That, sir,” the General replied slowly with an almost malevolent smile, “is where you are wrong,” he took another sip of his drink and, at a gesture, had both his and Burst’s glasses refilled by an ever-silent Cossack, “here in my preserve on this island, I hunt the most dangerous game.”
“I can’t really imagine anything more dangerous than a Hydra,” Burst commented, giving a weak smile under the dark glow of the General’s version, “dragons?” he asked.
“Oh, no,” the General replied, creepy smile replaced with one less so, “I grew tired of hunting dragons years ago. Big brutes with foul tempers they may be, but they’re cocky and hardly intelligent. No, I’d not constitute dragons as this world’s most dangerous game.”
“Really?” Burst inquired.
“Really,” the General replied, taking another sip from his glass, “but do enjoy your salad, ingredients imported from Prance and prepared with expertise here.”
Burst found the salad to be excellent, the lettuce and cucumbers crisp, the cherry tomatoes juicy and plump, etcetera, etcetera. He glanced up every now and then, eyeing the General as he ate his own plate at a more reduced pace, taking his time as he eyed Burst across the table.
“I notice the bandage around your arm,” Burst began in an attempt to spark a conversation. He set down his fork and dabbed a bit of dressing from his lips.
“Ah yes, just a small scuffle with some of the game I was hunting. Nasty brute, but I got him,” the General replied, taking a sip from his drink and still holding onto that appraising smile, “I always get them.”
“About that,” Burst began, clearing his throat, “what sort of game is this most dangerous game of yours, General?”
“Only the most dangerous that there is, mister Rate,” the General said mysteriously, before conceding, “imported of course, as with most of what’s around you,” the General gestured around the room with his free hand.
Whatever creature he’s talking about mustn’t be too big, Burst thought, That scuffle I found was hardly made by something like a Hydra or Manticore.
“Yes, but what sort of animal, General?” Burst asked again, “if not beasts like hydras and dragons, then what is this most dangerous game that you speak of?”
The General chuckled, wiping his beak daintily with a napkin, “I’ll tell you. You’ll be amused, I am sure. In all modesty, I feel that it is fair to say that I’ve created a new sensation, a rare thing as any,” the General continued, he reached over and picked up the half-empty bottle of hard cider, “more cider, mister Rate?”
“Yes, thank you,” Burst said, magicking his glass to the griffon.
“The gods make some of us poets. Some they make beggars while others are kings,” he finished refilling both glasses and Burst pulled his back to him with magic, “and, in our case, they made us hunters. My father said that my hand was made for the bowstring and the arrow. He was a wealthy man, my father,” the general continued fondly, “the griffon owned a quarter of a million acres in Stalliongrad and, like me, was an ardent sportsgriffon.
“On my fourth birthday, he gave me a little bow to shoot sparrows with and, when I shot a few of his prized turkeys, it was not punishment I received, but a compliment on my aim. I killed my first bear at the age of nine, a single shot from a long bow at two hundred paces. In its entirety, my whole life has been one great hunt!”
Two more diamond dogs came and took the two’s mostly finished salads, neither griffon nor pony noticed them.
“I joined the army of my homeland, Great Grifŏn, as was expected of a noblebird’s son and for a time commandeered what felt like a small army of my own,” he gave a small chuckle, as if reveling in the nostalgia of a moment or two, “but my real interest was forever vested in the hunt. I’ve hunted every animal on every continent of the globe, it’d be impossible to give an exact number on how many I’ve taken.
The General took a sip of his drink and continued, “When my father died, wracked by disease instead of killed in the heat of a hunt,” the griffon shook his head, exhaling a sad sigh, “horrible way to go...but when he did I, his sole heir, inherited his wealth and put it to good use: hunting. Everything from the badlands of Equestria, to the chilling mountains of Germaneigh, and the humid plains of Zebrica. Everything from the smallest of rabbits to the largest of bears, with ranging calibers of arrows and draw weights and bows...” the General trailed off, taking another sip from his drink.
“Zebrica’s an interesting place,” Burst piped up, “Zebras have quite an interesting culture.”
“Ah, yes,” the General agreed with a nod and a smile, “but far more interesting traps I think. Have you ever been there, mister Rate? Zebrica, that is.”
“Yes, actually,” Burst replied, “my yacht was returning from a trip there when I fell off.”
“Hm,” the General commented with another sip of his drink, “but where was I? Ah yes, I’d hunted everything that there was to hunt with everything there was to hunt with. Viscous cats with only daggers, large bears with nothing but my own two claws. No animal on this earth can match a hunter with his wits about him, and a high-powered long bow.
“It was around the time that I did take a large bear with nothing but my bare hands, no pun intended by the way, that I came to a realization. I was laying in my tent after having field dressed the large brute and an odd feeling overcame me. I wondered at what it could be for a while when it struck me,” the General paused for dramatic effect, taking a sip from his drink as he did so, “Hunting was beginning to bore me! The challenge, although still present, was lacking. The mind of an animal is a simple one at best and the mind is the greatest weapon that there is. Put two in a cage, one with a simple weapon and the other with a finely honed one, and the latter shall prove victorious again and again.
“Hunting had been my life and it was beginning to bore me!” the General stressed, “I’d imagine a pony like yourself would be driven mad if your special talent began to bore you.”
“Probably,” Burst conceded.
“I had no wish to be driven mad, so I had to think; think of some way to bring challenge back into the hunt, to make it interesting again! Mine is an analytical mind, mister Rate. Doubtless why I enjoy the problems of the chase, a thing to solve where the answer is yet another animal fallen to my bow and arrow.”
“No doubt,” Burst replied with a nod, taking a small sip of his drink.
“So I thought to myself: why does the hunt bore me? What can I do to stop it?” the General paused to take another sip of his drink.
“And why was it that the hunt was beginning to bore you?” Burst asked.
The General gave a quick laugh, “because, mister Rate, it was no longer challenging! Manticores and timberwolves and bears! Nothing was a challenge anymore! I always got my quarry,” the General looked down his beak at Burst, “always. There is no greater bore than perfection.”
The General reached over and grabbed the bottle, pouring himself a fresh drink. He tipped the bottle in Burst’s direction, but the pony shook his head.
“So I had to think, think of a way to bring something new into the hunt, make it more interesting. I’d already tried different bows and weapons, everything from the famed traps of Zebrica to the powerful crossbows of Stalliongrad, so I needed something else to bring in! And that is when I came up with it...” the General paused, smiling intensely at Burst, who again withered a bit under the General’s gaze, “...I needed whole new type of game to hunt, I had to reinvent the prey!”
Silence.
“You’re...you’re joking. Right, General?” Burst asked after a moment’s pause, an amused smile crossing his face, “Invent a new animal?”
“I never joke when it comes to hunting,” the General said defensively, smile fading to a frown, “It was rather obvious when I realized it, I don’t know how I didn’t think of the idea sooner. But that aside, I found this new animal with relative ease and settled on this island, which is perfect for my hunting. It’s filled with jungles and game trails and swamps...”
“But the animal, General Rayford?” Burst interrupted, curiosity continuing to grow.
“Ah yes, well I wanted the ideal animal to hunt, so I asked myself what attributes this animal must have to make it the most dangerous game. I came up with a few: the creature must have courage, it must have cunning, and above all else, it must be willing to reason!”
Silence again.
“But...no animal can reason, General. Perhaps a few can to some degree, but none as much as a griffon or a pony or...” Burst froze, his speech ending as he came to a realization, “you...you don’t mean...”
The General’s smile returned, pulling his beak apart in a wide grin, “But whyever not, mister Rate?”
“‘Whyever not?!’” Burst exclaimed, “surely! You’re joking!”
The General’s smile died and he leaned towards Burst, making him lean away a bit, “I never joke about hunting,” the General said.
“Hunting!?” Burst exclaimed, “Celestia’s flank, General Rayford, what you speak of is murder!”
“Come now, mister Rate. What makes killing one thing any worse than another?” the General inquired.
“If you have to ask that then you’re insane, General!” Burst shot back.
“Oh?” the General asked. He set his glass down and pressed his fingers together at the tips, “enlighten me, then.”
“What?” Burst asked.
“What makes killing a pig worse than killing a pony?” the General asked, “enlighten me, mister Rate. Or rather, hear me out first,” he leaned forwards as Burst frowned in annoyance, but begrudgingly listened, “Just as the gods make some of us poets and kings, they also make some of us weak and some of us strong. You and I, we are two of the strong of this world. Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong. The gods put the weak upon the face of this planet for our pleasure, the pleasure of the strong! So why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt a pony or a griffon, some sentient creature, why should I not be able to? Hm?”
Burst stared across the table, looking into the General’s mad eyes above his wicked smile, “You’re insane, General. No matter weak or strong they are still fellow sentients!”
“Exactly!” the General replied cheerily, “they can reason! Think! like me! That makes them dangerous, and dangerous, mister Rate,” the General folded his hands together, still smiling, “is exactly how I like my game,” he paused a moment, smile fading as he considered something. He stood from the table and headed around it, Burst tensed up, a light glow coming from his horn, “would you like to see how I get my game, mister Rate?” the General asked, walking over to a window, “come, I’ll show you.”
Burst followed with caution, keeping his eyes on the General the whole way over.
“Sometimes the gods bless me with a storm, wrecking a ship on the dagger-like rocks surrounding the isle. Other times somegriffon from Great Grifon ships in a condemned soul when the noose isn’t desirable...or legal. And yet others...” the General gestured out across the island, and procured an odd looking device. It was palm sized and cylindrical, with a gem atop. The general pressed down on the gem and a set of lights flashed from a spot across the island, “they indicate a channel where there is none. As you can imagine, the rocks get any ship that comes close enough.”
“Rocks?” Burst inquired.
“This island is known as ship-trap isle for a reason, mister Rate.”
“But ship-trap island is uninhabited!” Burst retorted, “nothing but jungles could be seen from the air! How could you disguise such a place as this?” he gestured to the mansion around him.
“Ah, with magic, of course,” the General indicated the flashing lights again, “magically powered utilities, we try to be civilized here. As to the rest, a simple cloaking field generated by the magic in the air. If you were to fly an airship overhead, all that you would see would be false forests where my mansion is.”
“Civilized?” Burst snorted, “and yet you hunt sentients as you would animals?”
A flicker of anger flashed across the General’s face, and Burst wondered if he’d gone too far this time, but it faded and the General spoke, “But have I not lived up to the definition of civilized? I’ve given you shelter from this storm and fine food for your belly. When we hunt I shall give you outdoor gear, a fine hunting knife, and food to last a few days.”
Burst was quiet for a second, the General had been rather civil, despite the hunting other sentient creatures part, that is.
“I will have nothing to do with you and your games, General. I will not hunt with you.”
A chilling smile slowly spread across the General’s beak, “Ah, but who ever said that you’d be hunting with me, mister Rate.”
Burst was silent.
“Hunting another, lesser, creature would be a bore with or without another seasoned hunter at my side. No, I aim to make things interesting and pit two seasoned hunters against each other. Your wit versus mine, your skill versus mine,” the General looked out to the dark of the night, “you versus I, mister Rate...”
> Part Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A CRASH of thunder rolled across the island, providing the only sound in the large dining room. Burst Rate stared back at General Rayford as the two stood before a window overlooking the darkened forests outside. Rain pelted the window madly, as if a monster that was trying to break in.
“You see, mister Rate,” the General began, “this is how the game goes:
“Tomorrow morning I shall provide you with outdoor gear: Hunting clothes if you so wish, flint and steel, a good hunting knife, enough food to last you a few days, and your own wit,” the General tapped his skull for emphasis. The General strode back to his seat at the table, Burst remained where he was, his mind reeling.
This isn’t happening! This can’t be happening! I...I must be....dreaming or, or something! C’mon, Burst! Wake up! he bonked himself on the head with a hoof, Oh Celestia, I’m not dreaming am I!?
“I shall give you a good head start and then,” the General took a seat, smiling back at Burst, “the game begins,” the General took his glass and had another sip of the cider, finishing it. He picked up the bottle and indicated towards his guest, but Burst was too stunned to reply as a knot of sickness began to grow in his gut. 
Oh, Goddess he can’t possibly be serious...can he? He’s got to be joking! Surely this is just some grisly joke!
The General shrugged and poured himself another glass, “The goal of the game is simple: you try to survive and I try to hunt you and kill you. If you can survive four days then you shall win the game and I’ll let you go free. I’ve an air skiff and Cossack can fly you back to the mainland,” the General’s smile faded, eyes piercing into Burst’s skull, “provided that you tell no one of this place and what transpired here. Our little secret. 
“If, on the other hand, I catch you...” the General trailed off with another chilling smile, “I shall personally be armed with a light bow and three...” he held up a trio of taloned fingers, “...arrows. Should you prove to be troublesome to catch, I shall bring in Cossack and-or my pack. Cossack will be armed with his crossbow and a bolt. Just one to offset the power of his weapon and his aim.”
“I...I’ll have no part in this madness, General!” Burst retorted after finding his voice.
The General gave a hearty chuckle, “So you wish for me to send you to the gods right here and now, then? If you don’t wish to participate then I’ll simply have to kill you right here and now. A shame to waste such a fine specimen as yourself, but necessary should you refuse.”
Burst glanced away a moment, trying to think of a way out of this.
“They’ll come looking for me and they’ll find you!” Burst swore.
The General took a sip of his drink, “No they won’t,” he said, voice sincere and without even the slightest scent of doubt.
Burst gave an annoyed growl at the General’s response. He turned to look back out the window, eyes flicking back and forth as if trying to find an answer amidst the night-blackened forest outside, “How do I know that I have your word that you’ll let me go?”
“Assuming that you promise not to tell anyone...” a flash of defiance showed in Burst’s eyes, “...all you have is my word. But remember that this is hunting we speak of, and I never joke about hunting,” the General chuckled, “and don’t think that even if you do try to tell anyone that you’ll accomplish anything.”
“What?” Burst snorted, turning defiantly towards the General, “will you have me under surveillance twenty-four-seven for the rest of my life?”
“I won’t need to,” the General replied with a smile, “if you claim that a griffon lives on Ship-Trap Isle, much more that he’s hunting down other sentient creatures that find themselves stranded here, they’ll claim you’re mad. No one lives on Ship-Trap Isle, anyone who knows anything about the island knows that. Furthermore, there are those in Great Grifŏn who would see me continue my stay here, seeing as how they get to do away with anygriffon they want without anyone ever knowing,” the General eyed his drink, staring through the golden liquid with an almost bored look on his face, “and even if you are able to convince a group to come out here and hunt me down, then you must remember that this is my turf, mister Rate. I’m rather certain that Cossack, my dogs, and I could hold off a great number of Equestrian Royal Guard with only limited trouble.”
Burst glared daggers at the General, trying to think of a loophole, any way out of this predicament. Perhaps if I...No, that wouldn’t work. How about...Darn it, that wouldn’t do either..!
He found none.
“Well if that’s that then I’ll have Cossack show you to your room. I suggest you get a good night’s sleep,” the General gave a smile, “You’ll need it.”...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...The door slammed behind him, the sound of a key turning a heavy lock following shortly thereafter. Burst glared at the door, as if trying to puncture the thick wood with his gaze alone. He let the sound of heavy hoofsteps die away before seeking out a route of escape.
The bed was large enough for two or more ponies to sleep comfortably and made of a fine, soft silk. The floors were of a lightly colored wood and looked brand new. The walls were a milky-white color and smooth as a rock in a fast paced stream. A fireplace sat in the corner and a single window was set in the wall.
Burst trotted over to the window, finding it barred with a thick metal grate. No way he was going to get through that in this lifetime. Even if he had been able to, he noticed, the room faced out to sea, situated so that it rested on the edge of the large plateau that the mansion rested on.
Moving off to a door in the side of the room he came across a bathroom of fine quality. The marble countertops and flooring that reflected his angry face back at him did so almost as well as the bathroom’s mirror. 
Growing dismayed, Burst made his way over to the fireplace as he considered setting fire to something. The grill didn’t move and a single button, upon pressing, lit the wood pile alight, spreading a comfortable warmth throughout the room.
“Celestia’s flank!” Burst swore as he stomped away from the fireplace. He tore off the bathrobe with his magic and flung the garment away as he hopped onto the large bed, glaring around the room in unhappy defeat.
Upon hopping onto the bed and magicking his camera to a bedside nightstand, he finally realized how utterly exhausted he was and rested his head on his hooves.  All of the day’s tiring events caught up with him and he fell asleep almost instantly...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


…“Ah, my guest awakens!” General Rayford exclaimed merrily as Burst entered the dining room. It was much brighter now, sunlight pouring in from the many windows that adorned the walls. As before the massive table was set for two, a single dish and a steaming coffee mug waiting before the seat opposite the General, “How did you sleep, mister Rate?”
“Fine,” Burst grumbled, taking a seat. A thick omelette stared back at him from the plate, adorned on one side with a few cubes of fruit and on the other with a warm sliced croissant with butter. The mug gave off a powerful scent of coffee, the liquid a fine black color.
“I confess that I am unaware how you like your coffee, mister Rate,” the General confessed, tone apologetic, “but I’ve sugar and other additives should you wish them.”
Burst glared back at the General’s smile as the griffon forked a sliver of fruit into his beak, holding the quiet glare for a few seconds.
“You will release me from this island at once!” Burst growled, stomping a hoof on the table for emphasis, rattling his dinnerware.
The General gave a quiet chuckle and set down his fork. He smiled back at Burst, “I shall not...unless of course you mean to release you to the gods. It would be a shame, but the choice is yours to make after all.”
With an annoyed snort, Burst stabbed his fork into a piece of fruit on his plate with a bit of excessive force before bringing it to his mouth and eating. The slice of honeydew melon was sweet and delicious against Burst’s tongue, and he suddenly found it hard to keep his unhappy face on.
“Imported from the finest growers in Prance,” the General commented, reselecting his fork and continuing to eat, “I pay quite a price, but it’s certainly worth it.”
“Hm,” Burst mumbled into his food. He stabbed his knife into the omelette, the silverware clinking against the bottom of the plate as he cut off a bite and forked it into his mouth. His anger ebbed as the flavor of the bite filled his mouth as he chewed, killing his angry glare and almost rendering him happy again.
The General set down his fork once more, selecting a napkin and dabbing a bit of juice from his beak, “My previous quarry was rather unsatisfying. He was the last of a crew who fell for the channel trick and ended up stranded here. Poor fellow had practically lost his mind by the time it was finally his turn. 
“Seeing his crew members go, one by one out into the forests, some gone a day or two, some a few hours before I returned dragging their bodies back through my doors,” the General stared off, reveling in the memories with a happy smile on his face. Burst felt a rising feeling in his stomach and set his fork down with a small gulp, “a few of them were rather decent game. One even eluded me for two whole days before I got him, in fact. Almost beat the record.”
The General picked up his fork again, stabbing into another slice of fruit and bringing it up to examine with cold and calculating eyes.
The record? Burst wondered, watching the General as he took a small bite from the fruit. “The record?” Burst inquired, voicing his curiosity as he took a small sip of his coffee to calm his stomach.
“Ah yes, I keep a record of every hunt I have here on my island. The current record is three days and ten hours. The fellow was a griffon, one of the ones sent to me from Great Grifŏn to get rid of. He was quite elusive, a skilled assassin back home. The fellow almost made it feel as if I was being hunted at times,” the General laughed cheerily, “But I got him in the end, I always do.”
“Always?” Burst inquired.
“Always,” replied the General, “to this date I have never lost.”
Hopefully I can change that, then, Burst thought.
“On the subject of the hunt, though,” the General began again as he eyed his talons, “I suggest that you do choose some hunting clothes to wear. A camouflage outfit and perhaps moccasin boots,” at Burst’s raised eyebrow the General added, “They leave lighter tracks, make it more of a challenge to track you down.
“But enough chatter of our hunt, finish your breakfast and we can go over the specifics of your gear and send you off...”


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Burst Rate, now dressed in a camouflaged shirt and hat with moccasin boots, drew the hunting knife he’d been given from its dark sheath. The six-inch blade was of medium thickness, a matte black stainless steel with a blood groove and serrated back. The grip was a similar color and fit in his hoof nicely.
“A fine tool, is it not?” the General asked, admiringly.
“Hm,” Burst replied, anxiety churning his stomach as he holstered the knife and clipped it to his belt. He hefted the bag of food over his withers and glared at the General.
“I shall give you till the sun is just past its peak in the sky before I begin my hunt, so until then, mister Rate,” the General said with a smile, “I bid you adieu.”
Cossack, standing next to the General, glared back at Burst as the General turned to leave. With a massive foreleg he closed the gate and turned to follow the General back inside.
Burst watched them go with a glare before turning to the forest. His eyes scanned over the mass of trees and the darkness that their slowly swaying branches held. The sound of waves crashing upon the shores below the large plateau met his twitching ears and he gulped once before galloping forwards and disappearing into the darkness of the forest...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


…Burst had little time for thoughts as he rushed through the forest, low-lying branches of trees slicing at his dark orange coat as he passed them by. A growing terror filled his stomach with thick ice as he fled, the reality of the situation drowning him in fear.
He threw a glance skyward, only to be greeted by flecks of stray sunlight that were able to pierce the thick canopy above.
So much for just after the sun is at it’s peak! I can’t even see the sun! Burst cried mentally, shoving an extra large branch out of his path with magic, eyes wide with terror, Oh, Celestia! How did I ever get into this situation!? Why me? I... Burst came to a halt, panting lightly he looked back the way that he’d come. Slowly his jaw closed and one of his eyes squinted, the terror leaving both of them, ...I need to get a hold of myself. If I want to survive this living nightmare then I need to come up with a plan. Rushing through this forest filly nilly isn’t going to get me anywhere but the afterlife.
He looked over the way he’d come, noting the plethora of snapped branches and tread ground, all signs of travel. All things that the General would be able to see in a heartbeat. His gaze snapped forwards, his eyes analyzing the forest.
He’d tracked down game animals before, granted he only snapped their pictures before leaving, but he was no novice when it came to the game of the hunt.
“Only this time I’m the one leaving the tracks,” he said aloud, lifting a moccasin-clad hoof to inspect the earth below it. His gaze was drawn back upwards, “so let’s leave some tracks for him to follow,” Burst finished before continuing onwards...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Burst weaved back and forth in his continued galloping through the forest, head on a swivel as he looked for something to serve as the keystone to his plan.
That one’s too large...That one’s not got any low enough branches...That one’s too old...That one’s too small...That one… he froze for a mere second, looking back at the tree he’d just passed, eyes analyzing a mile a minute. 
Branches that were low enough to the ground, no short supply of other branches above, all sturdy enough to support his weight.
That one’s perfect, he thought, continuing his wild race for about another hundred yards before halting and looking back the way he’d come. 
Now for the tricky part, Burst thought, retracing his steps backwards, careful not to leave any extra marks that would give away his plans. Continuing his careful trot, he made his way to the tree, halting below one of its low hanging branches and magicking his bag of supplies up into a higher branch.
That taken care of, Burst himself stood up on his two hind legs and reached up to grab the branch, pulling himself up and into the tree. He proceeded to move to a branch higher and perpendicular to his current one, pulling himself upwards into the tree with a grunt of exertion.
He looked up, checking on his bag a few branches above him. He lifted it even further out of sight and pulled himself one branch higher and further from his easily followed trail.
Just a few branches higher… he mentally told himself, gripping another branch with his hoof.
Crack! complained the branch, snapping under Burst’s weight and sending him falling to the ground with a yelp of surprise.
He crashed through some loose brush, hitting the ground with a thump that dazed him for a few seconds. He shook his head to clear his vision of swirling stars before looking up the way he’d come.
“Buck,” he hissed under his breath, looking around at the brush that entangled him like a small prison, more or less hiding him from view. 
Burst started to get up, hoping that he’d somehow be able to get back up the tree without making any more tracks, when a noise met his sensitive ears.
He swiveled them around to face the direction of the noise as it continued to grow steadily in volume: a rhythmic sound of crashing and crackling leaves and twigs underfoot.
Burst froze, eyes growing wide as the footsteps kept coming, rhythmically beating like a slow drum playing for his execution. There was nothing he could do besides stare and pray to whatever deities were listening that the General didn’t spot him.
And along came the General, an arrow knocked in his bow and his pace leisurely. His eyes were stuck to the forest floor, no doubt glued to the tracks that Burst had left, and his face beheld a disappointed scowl, perhaps annoyed that his prey was so simple in its escape.
Time slowed as the General walked past Burst’s impromptu hiding place. His eyes locked with the General’s downcast, golden pair, fearing that at any moment they’d shift over and lock onto his as the General spotted him.
But they didn’t.
Burst let out a quiet breath as the General disappeared, the crunching of his paws through the underbrush heralding his leave and growing softer by the second.
Once out of earshot, Burst pushed himself to a crouch, the bush he was hiding in shaking in protest. He winced at the noise, ears perked up and listening for any sound that might tell him he’d been discovered.
There were none.
He’s probably going to come upon the end of my trail any minute, Burst told himself, looking around for a way out of the cramped quarters of the bush, either he’ll retrace his steps back past this way or he’ll scout out the area around the end of my path to try to pick up my trail again, With his magic, as moving a part of his body would only cause more of a ruckus, he drew the knife he’d been given, brought it around to his front, and started using the serrated blade to cut through…
More footsteps through the forest, this time coming the way that the General had just gone.
Burst froze.
The General appeared once more, scrutinizing the trail with a thin smile splitting his beak. He continued past the tree, but stopped suddenly as his keen gaze spotted something. The General turned back towards the tree and slowly let his gaze climb up, like a serpent slithering towards a cornered mouse.
His gaze found the first branch, lingered there a while, scanning over the unblemished wood. Burst blinked away a few drops of sweat that had snuck their way into his unblinking eyes, the rise and fall of his chest paused as he held his breath.
He’s going to see the broken branch! Burst realized, He’s going to see me! Oh, Celestia! I’ve got to do something before he notices! But what..?
Burst’s eyes fell on the knife that he’d been given, still floating silently before him in his magical grip. The deadly blade pointed right at the General who was not more than ten paces away, distracted by the tree.
It would take almost no effort for Burst to ram the blade into the General’s side. All it required was a thought and his willpower to cast a spell and he could end this nightmare, plunge the blade into the General’s gullet, spill his blood upon the forest floor.
Burst’s eyes lifted to the General.
The General’s gaze lifted higher up the tree, finding the second branch that Burst had used to climb higher. His smile widened. Burst’s heart pounded in his chest, so loud that it was a miracle that the General didn’t hear its frantic dance.
Now or never, Burst Rate! Burst realized, his pounding heart like a massive drum within his chest. The blade quivered in the air, more than willing to do his bidding and end the General’s life.
Burst conjured up the thought of sending the knife hurdling at the General, stabbing into his side. He drew in the magical energies that were ever-present in the air around them and funnelled them through his body and into his horn. He was now ready to cast the spell. All it required was for him to will the magic to do his bidding and send the knife into its target.
“Come on!” the blade seemed to beckon, “do it!”
The General’s gaze lifted one branch higher. Just one more and he’d spot the one that had snapped and let Burst fall. Burst felt the magic waiting to be funneled through his horn and out to the blade, sending it flying into the General.
Burst’s eyes flickered back to the blade, another drop of sweat stinging his eyes. He’d drawn in the sufficient amount of magic, brought the spell he needed to cast to mind, the only thing it required now was his willpower. To will the blade to do his bidding and sic it upon the General’s unwary form, to end this nightmare.
I… he thought, I can’t do it! Burst let the magic flow back into the air around him, the spell safely disarmed, Just no! No! I can’t kill another living being! It’s one thing to snap a picture of a creature but to...to kill it! the thought left a sick feeling in his stomach, I’m not like the General, I’m no murderer! Burst knew, as his only alternative, he’d have to make a break for it. Dash off into the forest and pray that the General didn’t give chase or, if he did, safely lose him. 
Burst prepared to burst out of the bush, rush off the way that he’d come before veering off and...the General’s eyes lowered a branch, then another, and another. The smile on his beak was unfaltering as he let go of the knocked arrow and drew a small knife from his belt.
Burst stared in confused wonder as the General carved something into the tree before turning and leaving, his footsteps decreasing in volume until they were all but gone.
Silence.
Burst gasped a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, feeling his heartbeat slow back to a more natural pace.
By Celestia’s ethereal mane, I’ve got to be the luckiest foal of a nag living! Burst realized, focusing another spell on his knife to cut a way out of the thick bush containing him, it’s a miracle that he didn’t see me! Burst continued, trotting cautiously over to the tree and looking up its length. He’d need to climb back up to retrieve the food he’d been given, hopefully this time none of the branches would break.
Going back to the low branch he’d use to pull himself up, Burst paused a moment as he spotted something carved into the tree. He moved around to get a better look, remembering that the General had carved something into the trunk shortly before leaving…


TOO EASY


Burst’s eyes grew wide as a cold sense of dread filled his heart. 
The General had known that he was here.
He turned his gaze, ever so slow as he struggled against the fear that tried to freeze him in place, to the forests around him. His ears swiveled this way and that, trying to hear everything at once. Every black shadow was suddenly the General’s lurking form, every whisper on the wind was the General’s soft steps.
Run! You need to get out of here! Put as much distance between you and him as you can! Quickly, before he comes back! a part of his conscience urged him, fueled by the adrenaline-infused fear that rushed though his heart.
Burst was about to bolt, but something else stopped him.
No, he realized, the fear, however slowly, leaving him, that’s exactly what he wants me to do! What he expects me to do! Burst’s gaze rose slowly back to the tree, one of his eyes squinted in concentration, I need to be careful, make a path that he won’t be able to follow and think up a plan once I find a place to rest, his stomach voiced a gurgling complaint, first and foremost, though, I need to get something to eat.
And so he began to climb...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Burst tossed the empty can of beans down a thin game trail he came across, off to the side and mostly hidden so that only a pair of skilled eyes would be able to see it. He continued along the path in the opposite direction a few paces before finding a suitable place to break off, his hoofsteps light and careful as could be so as not to leave an easy trail.
He threw a glance back over his shoulder, eyes analyzing and ears erect. No sign of the General and no sounds of footfall. His eyes dropped to the trail he was trying not to leave and after a quick analysis he flashed a quick smile and looked on ahead, continuing.
“So he was clearly able to spot my backtracking,” Burst muttered to himself, “I need to assume that any trail I make he’ll be able to follow. There’s nowhere that I can hide where I’ll be safe,” he threw a glance to the canopy above him, noting that the beams of sunlight streaming down had grown dimmer.
“So running will do me no good, sneaking and hiding somewhere might be viable, but if he finds my trail then I’m as good as dead...unless I’ve got a way to escape easily and see him coming,” Burst glanced around him again, taking note that he was still leaving a light trail, “I didn’t see anything that looked rather high up from the sea, no hill that I can hold as a fort, so I doubt I’d have any early warning if he did come...even then he can fly, he’d be coming in above me,” Burst gritted his teeth, “C’mon, think! There’s got to be something that you’re overlooking!”
A flash of shadow dimmed the light above him for an instant, as if something had passed between the sun and the canopy. Burst froze, fearful eyes scanning above, twitching ears hearing the soft rustling of branches and leaves as they hissed and rattled around him, dancing with the wind.
Nothing.
After a moment Burst tore his eyes from the canopy, hurrying his trot as he continued onwards.
What if you could somehow incapacitate him?
Burst stopped in his tracks, the thought striking him like an arrow through the heart.
“If I could get that bow away from him, take it and tie him up, I could force him to let me go,” Burst said quietly to himself, gears spinning a mile a minute in his head as a plan began to take form, “If I made a trap, have it drop something on his head or...I dunno...whack him hard enough, I could get the upper hoof!”
He sifted back through his memories of his recent trip to Zebrica. The tribe he’d spent time with had shown him a few of their more simple trap designs. He grumbled as the memories half-eluded him; he’d not paid much attention when they showed him. Being more a fan of tracking down an animal to snap its picture, the idea of snaring it somewhere hadn’t had much appeal to him at the time.
“C’mon Burst,” he growled to himself, “your life is depending on this! Think!”
A vague memory of something began to form in his mind, a smile crossing his face.
Burst turned his gaze away from his thoughts, looking around for the items that he’d need to pull this off, one eye squinted in concentration…


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


…The light that streamed down through the leaves was a darkening orange color reminiscent of a setting sun that no doubt cast it. It had taken some time to find all the different pieces he needed to set up the trap and then lead a half-hidden trail to it, but it was finally finished. All that Burst needed now was the General himself to come by and trigger it.
He waited off to the side of the trap and trail, hidden behind a few feet of foliage as he waited with a growing impatience. Could he really have lost the General? Was the General laying in wait somewhere else for him? Or, perhaps, was he watching Burst right now, arrow drawn to his ear, sharp tip aimed at Burst’s heart?
He looked around warily at the last thought, unsettled by the possibility.
Snap! A twig cried, the noise drowning out all else for a split second.
Burst froze, ears erect and eyes wide. His heartbeat rose in its never-ending dance.
Silence.
Burst strained his ears, a drop of sweat wiped away with a hoof before it slid into one of his eyes. Was it nothing? One of the many noises made by nature?
There was another quiet sound: the wet crunch of a footstep on some drying leaves.
Burst shrunk down, making sure not to rustle the foliage around him and give away his position.
More footsteps, cautious and quiet, approached the trap. 
Okay, Burst began to mentally prepare himself, when he triggers it, you’re going to have to move fast. You don’t know how long you’ll have, more footsteps approached, growing louder and louder, you’ve got to rush out there, grab his bow, and tie him up with those vines. Get ready!
Nausea filled his stomach, anxiety clawing at his guts. His tail twitched behind him, more nervous sweat dribbled down his face. Any second now the General would set off the trap and…
There was a sudden whoosh of air, as if something heavy had fallen, followed abruptly by a solid smack of two objects colliding, and a sound of something heavy crashing into a mass of bushes.
Burst froze. 
Silence echoed through the forest.
Go! his mind urged him, thrusting him into action.
Burst hopped through the dense foliage between him and the trap, the sound excruciatingly loud to his ears. Another quick leap and he was in the middle of the thin game trail that led to his trap. A large rock tied up with some vines and set like a pendulum around a tall tree branch swung in shrinking circles. 
And not a hoof away, something grey and feathered lay still on the forest floor.
The General.
Burst approached on quiet hooves, holding his breath as he looked into the General’s face. His eyes were closed and his beak was open just a crack. Quiet breaths escaped his beak, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm of sleep.
An edge of relief cutting away some of the smothering blanket of fear, Burst circled around to the General’s left side, his eyes locking onto the bow clutched in that claw. To Burst, it might as well have been an egg wrapped tightly in the warm embrace of a sleeping snake.
C’mon! Get it! he urged himself, reaching out with a hoof to pluck the weapon from the General’s clawed hand. His heartbeat continued to quicken as he gripped the bow, tugging gently as if trying to get a key from a sleeping guard. The bow didn’t come.
Slightly annoyed and with shaking limbs, Burst reached out his other forehoof and pulled at the weapon with both his front appendages. It still didn’t budge, the General’s claws wrapped tightly around it.
“What the hay,” Burst whispered to himself, eyes flicking back to the General’s sleeping face.
Two golden eyes gazed back at him, a thin smile splitting the General’s beak.
Burst let out a cry of fear, leaping away and bolting like a bat out of hell. Adrenaline filled his system as he crashed loudly through brush and foliage in his blind dash. Leaves and low branches slapped and snapped at him, trying to aid the General’s quest in catching him. He paid them no heed, fear blotting out everything but the urge to flee.
Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! he mentally cried, He’s going to get me! He’s going to get me!
His mad dash met an ill-fated end as he ran headfirst into a tree that didn’t give like the foliage before it. Stars exploded across his vision as he bounced off and hit the damp soil of the ground with a thud, adrenaline blocking off all but a dull ache in his skull.
At any moment the dizzy Burst knew that the General would be upon him, arrow drawn and ready to pierce his heart. He tried to force his legs into action, but they heeded not his will, slipping and falling under him as he tried to right himself. His body reacted with the ineptitude of a bad dream, his balance lost, his limbs unwilling to bear his weight, he fumbled like a foal in an attempt to right himself. All to no avail.
A sudden noise split the air, freezing Burst’s frenzied attempts at escape. His ears, deafened by his pounding heart and the adrenaline it pumped through him, were unable to compute the noise at first. But, slowly, it came to him with a feeling of utter dread...because the General was laughing.
“Clever pony!” the General’s voice called out as his laughter died away, muffled by the forest, “it’s been far too long since my prey has tried to spring a trap on me! Far longer has it been that such a trap has actually worked!” the General gave another cheerful laugh as Burst pressed a forehoof to his swirling head as he lay in the damp dirt of the forest’s floor, “quite a lump you’ve given me, mister Rate! I think that I shall retire to have it dressed,” there was a quiet pause, “Celestia’s sun lowers upon the horizon, mister Rate, and I congratulate you on your first day of survival! Sleep well, tonight for I will be back!” the General called, his voice fading as he no doubt left, “I will be back!”
Burst lay still for a while, heavy panting slowing as his adrenaline-infused dash left his head pounding and his muscles sore. The forest was already growing dark once he finally got to his hooves, giving a quick look around.
“Oh, buck! My gear!” he realized with a sense of dread as he looked around. Which way had he come from? His eyes found the tree that he’d run into, a small mark in the bark a testament to his pain. He looked down, trying to make out his tracks in the fading light.
Squinting, he was barely able to make out what he thought was his path away from the trap. Face close to the ground, he cantered onwards, hoping to get to his sack of food before the night blinded him.
Rushing though the forest, a churning feeling in his gut grew stronger as he continued onwards, still not coming across the game trail leading to his half-failed trap.
Oh, goddess, I hope I’m going in the right direction! he mentally exclaimed, shoving another large branch out of his path with magic, I can’t be caught out here with nothing in the dark!
Burst was about to turn around and make his way back, having failed to go in the right direction, when the ground beneath him turned from thick vines and brush to heavily tread grasses and dirt of a game trail.
He let out a sigh of relief, squinting in an attempt to spot his triggered trap. He trotted forwards, still squinting through the haze of darkness. 
If only I had some light! he mentally groaned, glaring around before facepalming with a sudden realization, use your horn, moron!
He drew in magic from the air around him once more, channeling all of the arcane energies into his horn and shedding a dull light on the forest around him. His trap lay just a few paces forwards and Burst gave a silent thanks to whatever deities were listening as he trotted up to it and then turned to the forest.
He waded through the thick foliage to the side of the game trail, soon finding his hidden gear and shouldering it with a grunt. Fatigue tugged at his eyelids, but leftover fear from his close encounter kept them from closing fully.
“Can’t sleep here anyways,” he muttered to himself groggily, “should get away from here. General will likely return in morning to follow my tracks.”
He trotted onwards, intent on putting more distance between he and the General. At first his pace was careful and calculated, his horn lighting his way. Every step was made so as not to disrupt the ground beneath it. But as the night dragged on, his hoofall began to grow sloppy, his body weaving back and forth, the light of his horn dulled to nothing and let the darkness reign supreme.
Burst eventually collapsed onto the ground, too tired to go on. Soon after that, his fatigue won out over his fear and his eyelids fell closed. He found himself instantly asleep...
> Part Three
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

BURST AWOKE to a distant, incessant noise. His ears twitched and a frown sprouted across his face as post-sleep drowsiness kept his eyes closed. He wished for nothing more than for the sound to die away and let him sleep a bit longer, even just a few more minutes. Yet at the very back of his mind Burst knew that sound, he knew what it meant, but for the moment it eluded him. The sound was intermittent, spitting on and off, a guttural barking noise almost like…
His eyes shot open as it clicked in his mind. His ears swiveled with his head as he zeroed in on the direction of the source.
“Diamond dogs!” he exclaimed, scrambling to his hooves and shouldering his pack with magic. Fighting against fatigue that threatened to drag him back to sleep, he rushed off a few yards before coming to a halt, realizing his folly.
“No,” he asserted with a stomp, “diamond dogs hunt in packs, they use the noise of their barking to flush out prey and chase it down,” Burst remembered, one eye squinted, “to top that off, they’ve got a great sense of smell and hearing. I can run, but I can’t hide. Knowing them,” he continued, eyeing his hooves and stifling a yawn, “They can easily outrun me.
“The General expects me to run, so that means that I shouldn’t…” Burst reasoned, a scowl growing across his face, “but what other choice do I have!?” he continued the verbal train of thought, throwing his gaze towards the canopy above. Warm beams of sunlight shone down through breaks in the branches above, many of the higher limbs caught in a moderate wind, swinging to and fro.
Burst turned his gaze downwards, scanning his surroundings. Trees and thick, green foliage surrounded him on all sides. He noted with a frown of annoyance that his tired walk through the forest last night had left a very visible trail. His body had created an impression in the ground, obvious evidence that he’d come this way that even a novice tracker would spot in a heartbeat.
“Dangit,” Burst swore quietly, knowing that the General would be bringing his pack this way, no doubt following the trail that had led to his failed trap, “and there’s no way that I’m going to be able to get more than one dog with another trap,” he continued, remembering the previous day’s failure with lingering dread, “what to do? What to do?” Burst wondered aloud, pacing in a slow circle, one eye squinted in concentration.
So what did he know? Diamond dogs were pack hunters, they chased down their prey and relied heavily on smell, sounds, and sight more or less in that order. They were speed hunters, unlike the General who was a slow and methodical tracker. Burst ran the quick list through his head again, trying to think of a way to...he froze mid step, “Aha!” he exclaimed, rushing off away from the dogs…


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...It was many minutes later that Burst was rushing with all due haste towards the sound of the barking. The path he had cut through the forest meandered like a snake through the underbrush. At no point could anything see him unless it were no more than a few feet behind him.
A light sweat covered his coat as he finally came to a sharp right turn in the trail, taking it back down and towards the sound of the dogs. Now the path he cut was straighter, he’d be easily visible from quite a distance away. He noted with a hint of dread that the sound of the dogs’ barking had sharply increased, but reminded himself that that was all part of the plan. 
Burst spotted another bend in the trail up ahead and came to a halt. The sound of rapidly tread underbrush reached his ears from a ways around the bend, sending a dart of fear through his heart at what was to come should his plan fail. Burst performed a quick about-face, panic induced by the knowledge that his enemies were so close clawing at his brain. He held the panic in check and began jogging away from the incoming noises.
Any second now, Burst knew that the dogs would come around the bend and…
An ear-splitting howl made his hair stand on end. He threw a quick glance behind him and spotted the blood-chilling sight of three diamond dogs rushing at him. Burst had no time to note the specifics of his pursuers as he forced his legs into overdrive, sprinting forwards and trying his best to match the dogs’ speed.
Back up his pre-made trail he rushed, the dogs a good series of yards behind him, their barks and snarls growing in anticipation of a coming meal. Burst felt his stomach try to rise up at the thought, but forced it back down as he tried to keep a level head, remembering the plan.
Beams of sunlight struck him across the face as the sharp turn in the trail came into view up ahead, fast approaching as his heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in sharp gulps as his stamina was tested.
He kicked up a small blast of debris as he performed the sharp turn, rushing forwards with everything he had. Only instead of going with the snaking curves of the trail, Burst pulled away a small bush he’d cut loose with his knife, holding it away with his magic. With a mere second to spare, he slid under the floating bush and then set it back down once he was on the other side.
The three dogs rushed, barking and snarling, around the bend...and followed the serpentine trail that Burst had pre-made through the forest. The General was close behind them, his bow slung across his back with a quiver of three arrows. He too followed the dogs as they sprinted down the trail, a vicious smile splitting his beak.
The sound of the dogs and General raced away from Burst’s hiding place, his ruse having thrown them off...for the time being.
Burst got to his hooves, pushing past the bush and cantering back down the trail to the sharp turn. Past the turn, he threw a glance back down the meandering trail, unable to see anything of his pursuers. The trail went on for a few more minutes before coming to a halt at a tree, hopefully giving Burst enough time to…
A low growl from in front of him, down the straight trail where the General had come from, froze Burst in his tracks, bringing his thought process to a jarring halt.
His legs frozen in fear, Burst turned his fearful gaze from the meandering trail to the straighter one before him. A single diamond dog stood a few short yards away, wolf-like fur standing on edge and dripping fangs bared. The creature’s face was set in a twisted snarl, yellow eyes boring into the pony. 
“W-wolf...again,” Burst stuttered, taking a slow step backwards.
Wolf leapt at Burst, jaw agape and forelegs extended to pin him to the ground.
With a fearful cry, Burst leaped out of the way and dashed off into the forest, the direction opposite the General and the other dogs.
No! No! No! No! No! No! No! Burst mentally cried out as he rushed blindly away, This can’t be happening! This can’t be happening!
Birds chattered violently at him as he startled them away in his mad dash, their sounds singing a duet with his rushing heart, the faded sounds of barking barely audible in the background. He ducked and dodged past trees and over fallen logs, under low branches and through hanging vines. Anything to shake off the barking, snarling creature that had given chase behind…
Wait, Burst thought, actually listening for once and hearing nothing but his own frantic steps, the sounds of barking now as distant as the horizon, did I lose Wolf already?
Burst threw a quick glance behind him, slowing a tad. He saw nothing of the darkly colored creature that should have given chase. He came to a halt, looking back over his withers as his heaving breaths gave a testament to his continued running. There was no sign of the diamond dog.
Burst’s ears swiveled this way and that, but still he could hear nothing that sounded like a diamond dog giving chase. The wind whispered quietly through the trees, their wavering limbs playing rasping music as they danced amongst themselves.
His heart played a fast paced, drum-like solo in his ears, his gasping breaths trying to sing along with the rapid thumps. The sound of the diamond dog’s barking had died down, but was still audible. Nothing, however, that would betray that Burst was being followed.
He let out a quiet breath of relief, surprised that he’d been able to lose the diamond dog so...
Snap! a twig yelped to his right.
Burst’s head snapped in that direction as a mass of dark fur and muscle lunged at him again, white teeth aiming to tear out his throat. With another fearful cry, Burst hopped away from Wolf’s attack, making the diamond dog come a few inches short of his mark.
It was still close enough, though, for the dog to slam into him, knocking the breath from his lungs and sending him tumbling away.
Burst tried to suck air into his empty lungs, cartwheeling his legs in the air as he came to a stop lying on his back. In an instant, Wolf was upon him, jaws shooting downwards to tear out his throat.
Burst threw out his forehooves, catching the bite on his left foreleg. He let out a pained yelp as Wolf’s sharp teeth clamped down on the appendage, breaking the skin with ease and sending pain up the limb as they dug into muscle. 
Burst lashed out with his other hoof, bopping Wolf on the nose and forcing him back with a yelp that released Burst’s foreleg.
In an instant Burst got back on his hooves, wincing with a gasp as he tried to put pressure on his injured appendage. Wolf had already recovered and was now circling in slow steps, fangs bared and gaze burning with eager bloodlust.
Burst turned in the center of Wolf’s circling, making sure that he was facing the dog at all times. He winced each time he tried to place weight on his throbbing foreleg, a dampness telling him that the wound was bleeding. 
“Look, can-can’t we t-talk about this for a...for a second?” Burst tried to reason, gulping in more frantic breaths as fear gripped him in a chilling embrace at the sight of the predator.
“I-I may not be a millionare or-or something like-like that...but I-I’ve...my-my family’s got a s-small fortune back home,” he stuttered, the words appearing to fall on deaf ears as Wolf continued his restless circling, “I-If you help me, I-I’ll…”
Wolf lunged again at Burst’s throat, ending the pony’s plea with another cry as Burst stumbled back. Wolf came short again, this time headbutting the pony with everything he had.
Stars exploded across Burst’s vision, blinding him with pain as he felt something slam into his left side, sending him sprawling in the dirt once more. He was only barely able to bring his hooves to bear as again Wolf made a snap at his neck, holding back the diamond dog at the chest.
Wolf pressed down against Burst’s hooves, just barely out of reach of the pony’s neck if the hot breath tickling at him meant anything. Burst threw a quick telekinetic punch at his assailant, throwing Wolf back again. But this time the dog was back in action almost instantly, jaws again snapping at the pony’s face, Burst holding him back at the neck with his uninjured right foreleg. His strength began to fail as the stronger creature continued to snap and snarl at Burst’s face. Wolf’s back paws dug into the earthen ground as he pushed himself closer and closer to his target.
Thick drool splattered Burst’s face as Wolf snapped at Burst’s nose. Burst felt frantically around with his left hoof, trying to grab anything he could to beat the dog back again. The close-range telekinesis that let ponies grab things with their hooves latched onto something that felt like a tree branch.
Burst gave a grunt of exertion as he smacked the object into Wolf’s side, giving the attack everything he had. Wolf let out a yip of pain, scrambling away with continued whimpers, pulling the object from Burst’s grip in his retreat.
With Wolf gone, Burst again hopped to his hooves, retreating as he zeroed in on his enemy, mind trying to formulate a plan to get away from the dog. He froze as his widening eyes found the diamond dog, a feeling of nausea growing in his gut.
Wolf had retreated a short distance away, limping, his breath coming out raggedly and in pained whines. His eyes glared with a growing weakness, his steps growing heavy as his body slowly sagged towards the ground, his legs losing the strength to hold him up.
Burst’s knife stuck out from the diamond dog’s side, a growing flow of blood blackening his coat around the weapon’s hilt. 
With a weak growl that brought a splatter of blood to his lips, Wolf collapsed and lay still.
“Oh, goddess!” Burst exclaimed, stepping forwards as if to help before rethinking the move and trotting quickly back, “I didn’t mean...didn’t want to…” he brought a hoof to his mouth, “oh, Celestia, I’m going to be sick!”
The sound of distant barking was suddenly growing louder, the other diamond dogs and the General were coming back.
“Oh no! Oh no!” Burst cried, knowing he’d only have a minute tops before the creatures discovered his ruse and were hot on his trail again. 
He rushed forwards to the still form of Wolf, his stomach gave a twist that made him gag as he noted the dead expression of the diamond dog’s eyes, the lack of rhythmic rise and fall of the creature’s chest. Gingerly, he gripped the embedded knife with his hoof and pulled back. The knife came about an inch before meeting more resistance than he could handle. Blood dripped from the knife’s partially-embedded blade, soiling the dirt beneath.
The barking continued to grow in volume as Burst continued to tug at the knife, pulling with all his strength, moving Wolf’s body as the knife refused to budge from the body. The movement drew the contents of his stomach to his throat, making him gag and avert his tearing eyes from the body for a moment.
“Oh, just come already!” Burst growled as he resisted the urge to throw up, blindly reaching out with his magic to help. 
By now, the dogs were bound to be at the sharp bend where he’d manage to throw them off. He only had moments now before the creatures were on him.
The knife pulled free with a sickening sound, the blade’s rapid exit splattering blood across Burst’s face. He stumbled backwards, spitting as some of the foul, metallic liquid got into his mouth.
He sheathed the blade with a click and rushed away from the clearing, quickly falling on his face as the pain in his leg foreleg was too much to bear. Burst could hear as the brush between him and the approaching dogs was tread as he scrambled away on his belly, throwing himself behind a tree and pressing his body into it, gagging once more as he tried to keep his stomach in check.
The dogs rushed into the small clearing that his and Wolf’s fight had made, Burst gave a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening as the creatures came to a surprised halt.
“Po vole Boga oni ubili yego!” a raspy voice exclaimed.
“Kto? Burst Rate?” the General’s voice replied, Burst flinched at the mentioning of his name, wishing that he could understand Stalliyi.
There was a quiet pause. Burst’s ears strained to hear anything on the other side of the tree. All he could hear were occasional steps as if the dogs or the General were shuffling around.
“My dolzhny prodolzhat' yemu? Ya po-prezhnemu mogu zapakh ublyudok!” another raspy voice inquired. Eagerness and a hint of rage sharing the tone. Burst gulped.
“Nyet, nyet,” the General replied calmly. There was a sound of footsteps approaching the tree Burst was pressing himself into, slow and methodical, the General’s. 
Oh, goddess! He’s coming this way! Burst exclaimed, his throat choked with fear.
Burst held his breath as the footsteps paused just around the tree. Time slowed as a golden, taloned claw slithered around the side of the tree, gripping the bark not half a foot from Burst’s head. It was close enough that Burst could see the razor sharpness of each individual talon. See as they slowly clasped around the bark, digging into it and leaving small indentations. In his minds eye he saw as the talons slashed through his neck, despite his battle to keep the thoughts at bay.
Burst’s heartbeat instantly tripled as the General’s head poked around the tree. He prepared to bolt as the golden eyes found him, the beak creased into a victorious smile as the General discovered...
“Burst Rate!” the General called out, his eyes set off into the distance. The shout jolted Burst from the mental image.
Thank Celestia! He hasn’t seen me! Burst thought, silently relieved though still on his guard should the General turn towards him. He made certain not to move, knowing that doing so in the General’s peripherals would spell certain doom.
The General continued, “if you can hear me, and I assume that you can, then I wish you joy in this victory! It’s been quite some time since I last lost one of my pack to anything but quicksand!” the General laughed, “and to throw them off as you did? I have not seen such a trick in even longer!” the General paused, eyes scanning again, “alas, I must postpone our chase for now to return Wolf’s remains home! He was a good dog, one of my finest! But in light of your recent victories, it seems a fair trade for this most exciting hunt!” the General smiled again with a chuckle and turned away from the forest, headed back to his dogs, “Buddy, dovesti yego tela.
“Da, General,” the first dog that had spoken replied.
A sound of a multitude of footsteps as well as the sound of something being dragged across the forest floor met Burst’s ears as he waited in hiding. The sounds quickly grew quiet as the hunting party left and Burst finally gave a breath of relief, falling away from the tree.
He sucked down gasping breaths as his heartbeat slowed, content to simply lie there and rest for a moment.
Continued pain in his left foreleg brought his attention to the weeping wound there.
At the sight of the wound, images of Wolf’s dead form assailed his vision. Mental images of the knife stuck in the creature’s flesh; images of the blood flowing from it, splattering across his face; images of the creature’s dead eyes as they stared off into oblivion.
Burst hurriedly got to his hooves, racing a few steps forwards as he threw up, heaving and gagging as the contents of his stomach emptied out onto the ground to the sounds of his retching.
Tastes of bitter bile and partially digested canned goods assailed his tongue as he emptied his stomach, coughing once and spitting a few times once he’d finished. 
Breathing heavily, he stared pitifully into the mess before him, catching his breath and wrinkling his nose at the smell. 
“Buck!” he swore, spitting a few more times as he moved away, trying to remove the vile taste from his mouth. The pain in his foreleg increased as he trotted the short distance, but he ignored it for now.
“I just...I just killed someone!” he suddenly realized, horror striking his heart like an arrow, “I...but...but he was...he was going to kill me!” he reasoned, eyes still wide with fear no less, “Oh, goddess why!?” he exclaimed to the heavens, “Why this? Why me! I never wanted to kill anyone! I...” he was wracked with another bout of dry heaves, his empty stomach stopping him from actually puking again, “It...it was an accident! I didn’t mean to...stab him! I just wanted to knock him away so I could escape! No one was supposed to die!” he cried out with eyes blind to his surroundings. He began to pace in a slow circle, only for the ache in his left forehoof to snap him back to reality.
He winced as pain sliced up his injured leg, looking down at the bleeding wound and then to the area around him.
“Look, Burst,” Burst began to peptalk himself, “you need to put this away for later! There’s far more important things to be worried about! This damned wound, for instance.”
He frowned, looking down at the mass of matted, bloodstained coat. Even if he were able to stay out of the General’s clutches, an infection would easily end him without proper medical aid.
“Dangit,” he muttered to himself, eyeing the forest around him once more, “maybe I should’ve paid more attention in botany after all, could’ve learned something useful about healing plants.”
No matter, he’d learned enough about first aid to make a simple bandage. It would have to do for now. Burst remembered spotting a stream when making his fake trail to fool the diamond dogs and, after getting his bearings, began heading in that direction…


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...He pulled his foreleg, now wet but cleaned of blood, from the stream. Burst then drew his knife once more, cringing at the glistening stain on the black blade. He dunked it in the stream with his magic and swirled it about until the blood had washed away. That finished, he brought it back over to him and gingerly cut off his left sleeve a few inches from the end, making sure not to nick himself with the sharp blade.
He slid the makeshift bandage off his foreleg and tied it around the weeping bite wound, making sure not to make it so tight that it cut off the blood flow, just enough that it was secure. 
Finished, he eyed the wound, feeling a small tinge of dread at the fact that he had no antibiotics. If the bite got infected...he turned his gaze to the surrounding forest, giving a silent prayer that luck was on his side.
Aren’t Diamond Dogs supposed to have relatively clean mouths? he tried to console himself.
That accomplished, Burst let out a sigh, his eyes meeting the stream. He gave a start at his reflection, noting with a grimace the light splattering of blood on his face, the matted look of his mane and coat, the heavy bags under his weary eyes.
Leaning in closer to the running water, he began splashing at his face, cleansing himself of the blood. The chilly water felt refreshing, the sharpness of the chill helping to dab away the last few remaining bits of fatigue plaguing his mind. Face cleaned off, he gulped down some of the water from the stream and stood from the bank, taking a deep, calming breath.
“I’m okay. You’re okay, Burst Rate,” he said to himself with a flat expression, “Just need to keep it together. Three more days after this one,” he continued his pep talk, his expression suddenly breaking as his thoughts derailed back to the sight of Wolf’s body, “Oh, goddess, why!? Why couldn’t he...he just listen to me!? We...we could’ve made a bucking deal! I didn’t have to...didn’t want to..!” he exclaimed, collapsing back to the stream’s bank, sickness and fear and sorrow and guilt clashing inside of his mind, “That look on his face, he just looked...so..!” Burst’s eyes fell onto the water, its wavering surface like a circus mirror, “Why...I…”
A set of sickly, clawed fingers reached over the mirror of his head, reaching down to grab him. A jolt of adrenaline shot into Burst’s system as his eyes grew wide and his heart rate shot through the roof. He lunged away, leaping into the cold water and pivoting with a loud splash towards...nothing.
The empty forest leered back at him, underbrush and tall trees clothed in vines the only thing around. Giggling wind rasped through chuckling trees, each leaning near their partners as if to whisper lewd secrets to each other.
“Wha-what!?” Burst exclaimed, looking about as his heart pounded in his chest. 
Realizing that he was standing forelegs-deep in the shallow stream, Burst trotted to the bank and hopped back up onto dry land, looking about as he tried to calm his racing heart.
Giving the forest a wary sweep with his eyes, he turned his gaze to the running water once more, eyes searching. The reflection of a swaying, forked tree branch met his gaze, waving apologetically for starling him.
Burst looked up, spotting the offending claw-like branch above him, finally calming down. He turned back to the water one last time, his weary self meeting his gaze.
“Look, Burst Rate,” he began again, throwing a glance around him just in case, “it already happened and you can’t change it so stop dwelling on it, you need to keep it together, okay?” he asked his reflection.
His reflection stared back, silent as he was as it waited for a reply.
“Dangit, I’m really bucking losing it,” Burst muttered to himself, giving his head a good shake, trying to clear out any unwanted thoughts, “Okay, time to get my game plan. With any luck I’ll have most of the rest of today to myself, I’d better make the best of it.”
Looking up again, he tried to judge where the sun was, the swaying branches and foliage above not helping.
I wish I had a damn watch, he thought.
Shouldering his pack, which he’d retrieved on the way to the stream, Burst surveyed his surroundings again, one eye squinted.
“First and foremost, I need to put as much distance as possible between me and here,” he thought aloud, “but do so smartly, it won’t do to lead him along to wherever I go next…” his stomach gurgled, reminding him that he’d emptied it not an hour ago. 
Probably not a good idea to be planning on an empty stomach, He thought, unshouldereding his pack and retrieving a can of peaches from it. Popping the tab to open it, he began to chow down, thinking as he did so.
Okay, so there’s a start, put distance between here and...wherever the hay I’m going, he paused for a moment mid-chew, considering, But where the hay to go? Damn, I wish he’d given me a map or something…
Wait, back-up a minute, he changed course, popping another slimy piece of sliced peach into his mouth, Where is he going to expect me to go? Away from him and that mansion most likely.
Feeling around in the can with his magic, Burst found it finally empty. The realization jolted him from his internal debate and he looked around, making sure the coast was still clear.
It was.
“No more zoning out,” he chastised himself, tossing the empty can into the stream, “He’s going to expect me to move. Does that mean I don’t?” again he looked around, this time eyeing the trampled foliage that led to where he stood, “Not an option, he’ll track me to here, my prints lead this far…” Burst frowned suddenly as a thought crossed his mind. The frown quickly turned into a clever smile as his gaze met the water, “...but he can’t track me so well if I travel by water, now can he?”...


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...The water was cold, and his legs were beginning to feel numb, but any tracks he made wouldn’t last for long under the water’s meandering current.
“Don’t know how well those dogs can smell, but at least this will make it more difficult for them to get my scent,” Burst said to himself, looking about so as to make sure he was still alone. While he wouldn’t be leaving any long-lasting tracks, the sound of him sloshing about in the water was far from quiet. Burst hoped that the denseness of the forest around him would muffle whatever noises he made or, more preferably, that the General and his hounds were nowhere nearby. His ears perked up, swiveling about as he halted.
Nothing.
Continuing a few paces further, he finally, tenderly, hopped back up onto the shore, stepping on a few rocks in an attempt to leave no tracks for the General to follow. He double checked the bank beneath him, making sure that he’d left no prints leading from water to shore, then hopped forth into the forest, the lush green swallowing him whole…


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...Pain had returned as his limbs dried off, the numbing chill of the water having left him a while ago. He grimaced with each step, casting often glances to the dense underbrush to ensure that his careful movements left nothing for the General to follow. He gave a satisfied smile, but winced again as pressure was placed on his limping left foreleg. He gave the appendage a weary look, satisfied that the bleeding had ceased to be a problem.
Snap! a twig cried out in agony.
Burst froze, ears turning in every direction as his heart leaped from his chest, legs tensing as he prepared to bolt. His sensitive ears picking up nothing; he snapped his head about, wide eyes trying to grasp anything abnormal.
He could find nothing.
Not wanting to tear his eyes from the surrounding forest longer than needed, he snapped a glance downwards.
A broken twig lay underhoof.
He gave a sigh of relief, an embarrassed—and relieved—smile creasing his lips as the vice-like grip of fear let go of his heart. As he began to start forth again, the snapped twig jogged a bit of memory from his trip to Zebrica, one of the traps they’d shown him, and he added a quick list of things to the dangers he was already looking out for.
Should anyone, dog, or griffon discover his path and give chase they would be in for a nasty surprise, he reasoned…


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...Glancing back down at the ground, Burst gave a short curse at the light imprint of his tracks where he stood.
Can hardly be helped if I’ve gotta exert myself with this… he reasoned, turning his gaze back to the thin sapling bending under the power of his magic. He wiped away a few beady bits of sweat trailing down his face, the magic required to move the tree bleeding over into his physical fatigue.
At least I know it’s more than strong enough for the job, he reasoned, one eye squinting.
Once it was where he wanted it, Burst quickly lashed a set of sturdy vines to the end of the sapling, hoping they would hold. Still holding the tree where he wanted it with his magic, he turned his attention to two sticks, both already whittled so that they hooked together. A larger one was driven into the ground, in the midst of a thick bush so as not to be spotted.
Tying the other end of his impromptu rope around the other hook-stick, he carefully hooked it with the ground-bound one. Slowly, he began to loosen his telekinetic grip on the tree, eyes flickering up and down it and his hooking mechanism.
It held as the glow of his magic faded from the snare trap.
Being careful not to trigger it himself, he set the triggering end of his impromptu rope where he best thought it would catch the limb of whoever came this way, making sure it was as hidden as could be.
He smiled once he was satisfied with his handiwork, throwing a careful gaze about his surroundings, before continuing on his way...


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...Burst Rate gingerly pulled back his impromptu bandage, eyeing the wound fearfully.
He had only been able to travel another few hundred yards before growing pain in his injured hoof had driven him to a stop. After digging about in his pack a few times to confirm the General hadn’t given him any painkillers—which he hadn’t—he had untied the knot binding the scrap of cloth around his injury.
The set of bite marks had slowed in their oozing of blood, his constant use of the limb the only reason it still bled. Muttering a quick curse, he re-secured the bandage and grabbed another can from his pack.
There was a distant, sharp, yelp in the distance, so muffled by the foliage that Burst almost missed it as he opened the can. He froze up for a moment, dreading the fact that the noise had come from the direction of the stream he’d used.
Nothing more came, a fact he was unsure whether to feel relieved at or fearful of.
He brought the can, filled with yellow flecks of corn, to his lips as he kept his weary ears alert for trouble.
“Another victory to you, mister Rate!” the General’s cultured voice called out, the sound muffled by the heavy vegetation. Burst gave a startled whinny, nearly losing his magical grip on the can, “Only a broken limb this time, it will heal, but another victory all the same!” he laughed out, “Perhaps bringing my dogs was to my own disadvantage.
“Do not, however, think that you have earned yourself any respite, mister Rate! I shall set Buddy’s limb and see him on his way back. But in the mean time…” a sudden smile, that Burst imagined would have chilled him had he seen it, filled the sound of the griffon’s voice “Fang, Otis, presledovat'.”
“Da, General!” another pair of dogs growled, giving a duet of savage barks. The sudden sound of rushing paws filling Burst’s ears.
“Oh, buck,” Burst swore, leaping to his hooves and galloping off away from the dogs’ vile barking. 
For the second time this day Burst found himself running for his life.
He winced and swore each time his injured hoof hit the forest floor, ducking and weaving through the thick foliage of the forest. But he could feel as the pain slowed his escape, the dogs behind him no doubt bloodthirsty with revenge. 
He had been lucky to not run into any of the tribal packs that inhabited Zebrica, but had heard tales of their ferocity in combat, their blood-feuds, and their lust for vengeance against those whom attacked their packs.
His flight was jerked to a sudden halt as he ran headlong into a thicket of vines lounging lazily down from a tree. He gave a yelp of fright, hooves digging at the earth as he tried to break free.
The vines held.
Need a new plan! Need a new plan! Need a new plan! he thought frantically, tearing at the vines with hooves and magic in an attempt to free himself. Not far behind, the dog’s barking grew steadily louder. His eyes alit upwards as he finally got out of the vines, body quivering with adrenaline.
Into the tree! he mentally yelped, grabbing at the vines with his hooves and tearing himself upwards with all the ferocity of a fleeing animal. He magically threw his pack up before him, thankful as it landed in some of the higher branches.
He wasn’t fast enough.
Two dogs burst from behind him, eyes lighting up viciously at the sight of their quarry. One was small, just about the size of a pony with a squashed pug-like face. The other was at least a full head taller that Burst, his maw gaping with brilliant white fangs.
The smaller dog leaped with a snarl, his jaws clamping tightly into Burst’s receding tail. The move yanked Burst downwards with a yelp of fright, his hooves scrabbling to hold onto the tree.
With savage glee, the larger dog grabbed the smaller one, his massive forepaws giving a slow and steady tug that began dragging Burst further from his escape.
“No! No! No!” Burst cried out, his magic snatching his knife from its sheath, “No! No! No!” he flung it blindly downwards, a frighted yelp releasing his tail and allowing him to heave himself up through the ropey vines and cling to the first branch he could get his hooves around.
He gasped down quick breaths, tears of fear and joy mixed across his face at escaping. He mumbled a mixture of silent thanks to whatever deities were listening through his quiet, shaking sobs.
Quaking with fear, he looked down from his roost, spying the two dogs glaring back up at him. Both appeared unscathed and angry, Burst’s knife forgotten amongst the foliage. The larger dog barked a quick order to his smaller pug-faced companion, who rushed off with happy yips and barks the way he’d come.
“Come!” the larger dog snarled, turning to Burst and pacing below the tree, “Come to die, pony!” he gave a growly laugh, hatred burning in his eyes, “Otis to bring General, pony!”
Burst said nothing, gasping for breath, Otis? That must make this one Fang, he thought, eyeing the creature’s drooling maw. The dog gave a savage, angry bark and bared his large fangs up at his quarry, A name well earned, Burst continued with a gulp.
Fang gave a growl, snapping his jowls viciously, “General to come!” Fang snapped back, giving Burst a sneering smile, “Pony then to die!”
Celestia damnit! Burst mentally swore, the folly of his error suddenly dawning on him like a hammer to the gut, I’ve escaped one fate for another just as bad!
“Ya vyrvu tvoi kishki, pony! I voz'mi golovu na moyu stenu!” Fang gave another growling chuckle, glaring yellow eyes fixed on his prey above.
I...I’ve… One of Burst’s eyes squinted with determination, I’ve got to remove him from the picture, the pony’s eyes fell on his fallen knife, but quickly turned away as it led his mind to dark corners.
No, his eyes snapped upwards to where his pack of food rested, but that’s not the only weapon I have… He wrapped it in his magic, turning back to the growling, salivating Fang below as the dog affixed him with hate-filled eyes. The dog muttered what Burst was certain were foul oaths in both Stalliyi and the diamond dogs’ own language.
“Pony to use volshebstvo!?” Fang’s eyes narrowed at the sight of his glowing horn. They jerked wide and the dog turned to the knife, fearing Burst was manipulating it. The dog had no time to turn back to Burst upon finding the knife where it lay. Burst jerked his pack from the tree and brought it crashing down on Fang’s thick head.
The dog hit the forest like a sack of potatoes, he didn’t get up.
Burst eyed the fallen creature for a few anxious moments before hopping down from the tree and pulling the pack away. A growing lump had appeared atop the dog’s head, his tongue lolling out stupidly as he drew in shallow breaths.
Burst shouldered his pack and retrieved his knife with magic, Phew! Now that that’s taken care of…
There was a sudden creak of wood, like the limb of a tree being pulled at an unhappy angle. Burst’s eyes darted up, locking onto and shooting wide at the General as the griffon drew an arrow to his ear, a smile of victory etched into his beak.
Burst let out a wild scream, throwing himself away as the griffon’s talons released the string with a twang! of energy.
Wailing with heart-hammering fright the likes of which he’d hardly felt before, Burst galloped away as fast as his hooves would carry him. Fear drowned out everything but a narrow tunnel of adrenaline-warped vision before him and he knew nothing but to flee, nothing but the simple, primordial urge of prey when faced with a predator it could not hope to best in combat.
Bushes and brambles were ignored as they scratched and tore at him, collapsed trees and large rocks were leaped over or around with agility and speed that would make Rainbow Dash herself envious.
Nothing existed for Burst Rate but his own four hooves and his knowledge that he needed to get the buck away fromt he psychotic, bow-wielding griffon!!!...


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...Run! Time meant nothing to him in his mad dash...


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...Run! pain was a heretical ideal...


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...Run..! the mere thought of doing anything other than fleeing was banished from his mind...


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...Burst awoke with a start to the sound of a slowly gurgling streamlet. The sound was peaceful, delicate, calming. A band of crickets chirped in the grass around him, bullfrogs bellowing a deeper music. The light, what there was of it, was slanted at an insane angle, tinted a fiery orange color through the trees about him.
The first thing he realized was that he had no idea as to how he’d ended up here.
The second was the intense pain that leaped into his limbs a fraction of an instant later.
“Oww...” he mumbled weakly as fire leaped into his very being.
Everything hurt. There was a numbing stitch in his side and a throbbing ache in his limbs, a testament to his wild gallop away from danger. Numerous small nicks and cuts stung like dozens of bug bites across his body. His injured hoof practically simmered with crying pain that leached tears from Burst’s eyes, coinciding with a sharp pain in his right flank below just below his flashing camera lens cutie mark.
His ears weakly flopped about, drinking in the sounds of the forest for anything dangerous.
He could hear nothing but the running water and the forest’s peaceful inhabitants.
Burst lifted his head, an action that heavily taxed his aching muscles and sent cramps wracking through his body. He gave a low groan, trembling as he lay his head back in the grass, squeezing his tear-crusted eyes closed.
Buck! he mentally complained, feels like I just galloped a mile up a hill with a weight on my back!
It was then he became aware of his grumbling, mumbling belly as it let him know it wished to be fed. His parched and dry mouth made similar complaints to be watered.
He gave another low moan, Goddess, the General had better not still be chasing after me, he silently prayed, rolling onto his right side to get at his pack and…
He let out a loud cry as pain flared up in his right flank, like someone had stabbed him and was tearing the knife about in the wound. More tears raced to his eyes as he tore his head from the ground and cast it behind him toward the epicenter of the injury.
Dried and cracked blood caked his entire right leg, sprouting from the arrow poking out just under his cutie mark.
He stared at the protruding injury in wide-eyed shock for set of short seconds. He tried to stand, gritting his teeth against his aching muscles. More pain flared up as the arrow was moved about in its fleshy nest, making Burst bite back a swear through clenched teeth.
“Ow!” he moaned again.
The crickets and bullfrogs had quit their respectives noises at his first painful cry. They began with renewed gusto as Burst lay in still silence for a while, the fiery beams of light penetrating the forest growing weaker by the minute.
“Need to get it out!” he snarled in a dry, whispery voice. He gave the arrow another glare, eyeing up and down the shaft, But...do I just yank it out? What if it’s got a barbed tip? I’ll bleed out if its anywhere near a major artery… he floundered at the thought, trying to remember if he’d seen what the General’s arrows were tipped with...unable to recall.
Another memory of Zebrica flashed before him.
Their group had come across a couple survivors from a diamond dog attack. The tribal creatures often preyed upon their smaller zebra neighbors, both for their hides and meat and for slaves in their mines.
One of the zebras had taken a javelin to her side. While the blow proved to non-fatal, every movement pained her. A large chunk of the shaft had been cut off already, leaving only a short segment of wood and the spearhead’s stone tip in her.
Ushering him over so that she could show the proper technique, the medicine mare of Burst’s group had shown him what do in case of a wound like this...
Burst looked to the protruding arrow shaft and gave a nervous gulp.
He had to cut it out.
> Part Four
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE ARROW sticking out of Burst’s right flank seemed to sneer back at him as he eyed it with worry. The wound had, thankfully, stopped bleeding sometime during his mad dash. But that was the only redeeming factor in his current situation.
“Just...cut it out,” Burst said to himself, not moving, “N-no biggie,” he stammered.
The light above continued to dim from a sunset orange to a nighttime black. Burst threw another glance about the small clearing he now lay in. The area was grassy and flat, perhaps a hundred square feet of vegetation that was less dense than usual. Trees still blotted out the sky above, but they remained more sparse than was normal for the forest.
A single stream bisected it, gurgling blissfully in from one wall of dense vegetation and disappearing into another. Burst could spot no tracks in the grass aside from his own. That, however, meant little when one of his pursuers could fly.
“Cut it out,” he repeated, gingerly drawing his knife with magic, wincing as a light movement made the arrow flinch. He bit his lip as the knife inched closer and closer to the wound.
He gave a yelp as the cold metal touched the bloodied flesh of his flank, the knife dropping to the grass as his concentration imploded.
“No, I-I can’t!” he gulped, “I’ll just have to deal with it,” he said, taking a deep breath and steeling himself, “C’mon, Burst Rate, you’ve felt stuff ten times worse than this!” he gritted his teeth and shoved himself to his hooves...and gave a sharp cry of pain as the arrow thrust him back down on the ground, “O-okay, I was wrong, haven’t felt anything like this before!” he whimpered past stinging tears.
His ragged breath nudged at the grass as the pain ebbed back down to a dull ache. The darkness of dusk began blotting the far edge of the clearing into a wavering mass of black tar.
“Damnit, Burst!” he snarled, striking the ground with a hoof, “get ahold of yourself! The arrow needs to come out and you’re going to do it! You’ve bucking got to!”
Igniting his horn and scanning about the darkness, he magicked a plethora of small shrubs and sticks into a pile before him. Arranging them into a small fire pit, he condensed the molecules of a small portion of air, accelerating them faster and faster until a small spark of magical flame burst into existence. He sent the ember into the kindling, throwing a sideways glance at the sound of an animal’s cry in the distance.
Being wet, he had to keep up the small spark spell for a minute before the first pieces of wood ignited. As the kindling began to burn he released the spell, giving the knife an anxious look.
His stomach gave a gurgle, happy to distract him from what was to come if only for the time being.
A couple cans and a couple minutes later and the fire was a crackling cesspool of heat. Darkness had settled fully over the forest, the crickets and frogs back at their repetitive songs. Burst almost felt able to relax in the peaceful moment...almost.
Steeling himself, Burst dipped the knife’s blade into the flame with his magic, anxiety clawing through his mind like a rat behind his eyes. Once the blade began to redden, he pulled it out. For a time the blade simply levitated before him, as if unwilling to do what he needed to do.
He clenched his teeth, it needed to be done whether it frightened him or not. If he couldn’t move about he wouldn’t be able to escape the General and his dogs and if he couldn’t escape them...he didn’t want to dwell on that thought.
The knife floated over towards the wound and, almost as an afterthought, he picked a thick stick from the ground and bit down hard on it, steeling himself with a calming breath.
In went the knife.
A burning hot chill iced its way into his flesh, bringing fresh tears to his eyes as he gave a loud yelp past the stick. He gripped the arrow with his magic, giving a gentle tug as he forced the knife in further, blackness dancing about his vision from the pain.
Burst gave a long cry, clenching his teeth hard enough to split into the bark as the knife pressed deeper into the flesh. In the back of his mind he tried to remember what the zebra had shown him.
Cut around the arrowhead… he mentally whimpered, ...free it from whatever muscles and bones surround it and it will come out.
Feeling with the blade as he wiggled it about, he found where the arrowhead had ended up. Burst gave a long, choked wail as he began to carve around it, fresh blood flowing freely from the wound and staining the grass a deep maroon.
His nerves shot arrows of pain through his skull as he felt muscle and sinew around the arrowhead split and sever under the knife’s influence. The blurred shapes of demons danced about his tear-torn vision, the knife and wound slipping in and out of focus as he fought to keep back the bliss of unconsciousness.
His magic flickered, dropping the knife as black oblivion threatened to overwhelm his senses. Near blind with the pain, he let out a groan, magicking the knife back up and pressing the blade back into the wound.
None of this was fair, he struggled to think past the oscillating pain that continued to drive itself up and down his hind leg. He ought to be curled up in a bed aboard the yacht, sailing to or at home already. He ought to have his face buried in a good book, curled up next to his fiancee by the fireplace in their little home. How was this fair? What had he done to deserve this fate!?
A choked sob split forth from his lips as his teeth dug notches into the wood he had them clamped around.
Yet here he was, stuck on a godforsaken island being hunted like a common criminal by a psychotic griffon and his hounds. An arrow was lodged in his hind leg and he was digging a knife around to try and pry it free. He was probably going to bleed to death or die from infection, become a feast for the bird and his dogs. 
Nopony would ever find him, there’d be nothing left...
...unless he survived. Unless he got this arrow out of his leg...unless he continued to elude Rayford and his hounds...unless, he came to realize, he became exactly what that damned griffon wanted:
The most dangerous game.
It was no use simply running about like a frightened animal. He was no mouse to be chased about and toyed with! The General was a cat by all rights, but so was Burst Rate: famed camera hunter extraordinaire! Perhaps he and the General took different things from the game that they hunted, one heads, meats, and skins and the other only pictures; but both were trophies and both were taken by the same sport: hunting.
Somewhere in the depths of his half-conscious mind, Burst remembered something that the General had said: “You and I, we are two of the strong of this world. Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong.” the griffon had said over dinner and drinks.
We…we are two of the strong of this world Burst thought as the knife dug through him.
“They can reason! Think!” the General had said sometime later, “like me! That makes them dangerous, and dangerous, mister Rate, is exactly how I like my game.”
The General wanted dangerous game? The most dangerous game?
He shall have it, Burst thought, I will be the most dangerous game!
With a sickly, sliding sensation the arrow finally jerked and came free, a copious amount of blood pouring from the wound…


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...It took a goodly portion of his hunting clothes as well as some ground mosses to stop the bleeding. By that time, Burst was already feeling weary and woozy from the blood loss. Looking at the crimson crust caking most of his leg and the copper-smelling pool he’d made alone nearly made him pass out.
But he knew he had to keep moving, keep ahead of the General at all costs. Burst took a few breaths and lurched to his feet. The world swam before him, his injured leg throbbing beneath him as he nearly collapsed. It hurt less that it had with the arrow, and it was as good as it was going to get.
Prey might quail and give in, but he was no longer prey. He was still game, he could not deny that, but now he was a predator. The current holder of the griffon’s record for longest surviving game, Burst remembered, was a griffon who’d made the General himself feel hunted at times. And so would he now.
He had caught the General once in a trap, had a chance to slay him then and there. Likely the General would think him gravely wounded now, ready to give in and die.
Let him think that, Burst Rate thought grimly, this time I’ll go for his throat rather than his bow!...


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...His first few steps were nearly unbearable, leaving him blinded by tears and supported by quaking limbs. But Burst Rate grit his teeth and shoved himself onwards towards the edge of a clearing.
Burst stopped to listen a moment as he reached where the thick clumps of foliage began, ears cocked as he listened. Water hushed quietly from the stream, the fire behind him cackled quietly to itself, and crickets and bullfrogs sang together merrily.
Grimacing, he pushed himself into the thick embrace of the forest. He squinted in the darkness, a needle of fear slipping into his heart as the shadows played tricks on him. There was a griffon, hunched and waiting, there a pack of dogs slinking about. He halted only long enough to ensure they were tricks before moving onwards, careful not to leave any prints.
The General and his dogs are at home asleep, Burst Rate reasoned as he searched, they haven’t attacked at night yet, they’re getting a good night’s sleep for tomorrow.
It didn’t take him long to find a sapling that was just what he was looking for. Snapping off a small limb, he used it like a baton in conjunction with his knife to free the straight sapling from its roots.
After hacking off the rest of its small limbs, he shortened it to a more proper length. Wedging the butt of it against a tree to keep it still, he batoned a plus-shape into the end he’d shortened. Taking a couple of the sturdier limbs, he shortened and wedged them into the plus shape, forcing them down to make four blunt prongs. These he sharpened into four points, creating a four pronged spear, just as the zebras had shown him.
Now all he had to do was fire harden it.
Makeshift and simple as it was, he felt a bit of pride as he beheld the new weapon, trotting back towards the clearing. It was no bow and arrow, but it was one thing he doubted the General would expect.
He almost trotted right back into the clearing, but stopped  just at the foliage edge as something felt off. One eye narrowed as he beheld the area. There was his small fire, mostly pulsating embers now. The same stream bisected it, inky black in the darkness. Nothing stood out in the open area, no sign of the General or his dogs.
Burst sniffed at the air, listening to…
The silence.
He gulped, taking a step back. Something had disturbed the crickets and frogs from their songs. Burst hoped it was some simple animal, a deer or fox, but deep down he knew how likely it was that the General had stocked the island with such creatures. Not when he had his most dangerous game to chase.
As he watched the clearing, a massive chunk of shadow broke free from the forest, pausing at the far end of the clearing. Burst strained to see, watching to see if it was only an anomaly. But it moved cautiously towards the fire, silently.
It froze as a twig snapped, making Burst flinch from where he watched. Anomalies didn’t snap twigs, Burst Rate knew.
Again it moved towards the fire, dark against the shadows that had gathered around to watch the flames. Closer and closer, step by step growing sharper until Cossack stepped into the firelight, the massive, red earth pony glaring about silently.
His crossbow sat cocked and loaded at his shoulder, the bolt’s tip gleaming in the light of the flames. Burst watched, unsure of what to do as Cossack surveyed the scene, suspicion gleaming in his eyes.
No doubt he expects a trap, Burst thought.
He could retreat back into the forest, escape now and hope the pony wasn’t as good as the griffon at reading prints. But that option made itself scarce as Cossack lifted Burst Rate’s bag of food, glaring down at it.
I could wait him out, but if he takes my food… Burst Rate’s eyes narrowed, falling to his newly carved spear. He couldn’t let that happen.
Cossack’s flank was to Burst Rate as he slipped quietly from the foliage, sneaking forth with a mild limp from the arrow. Still holding the spear in his mouth, Burst angled around so he was coming in from behind his foe.
Canned goods spilled across the grass as Cossack upended the bag, still looking suspicious. Burst’s heart pounded in his ears as he came in from behind the large pony. All of his aches and pains swept away the few stray thoughts in the back of his mind. 
Could he really take a life? The life of another pony?
His eyes narrowed as he clamped down harder on the spear’s shaft.
Step by careful step he grew closer and closer, dropping the spear from his mouth and taking it with his magic once he was close enough. One of Cossack’s ears twitched as Burst’s horn ignited.
Burst Rate charged forth, thrusting the spear forwards to...be knocked away as Cossack spun. He slapped the spear away with a powerful hoof, Burst’s telekinesis shattering as the weapon disappeared into the darkness.
Cossack’s crossbow came to bear, a hoof rising to the firing mechanism. But Burst Rate didn’t stop his charge, letting out a cry as he rammed into the larger pony, shoving upwards on the crossbow as Cossack fired. The bolt thunked into a tree’s outstretched limb overhead.
Cossack let out a snort as Burst Rate drew his knife, adrenaline making his heart rate soar as he shoved it at the larger pony. But Cossack simply slapped the knife away as if it were a mere fly, then his hoof came back around and stars burst across Burst’s vision as he was flung backwards.
Burst hit the ground hard, letting out a pained yelp as he hit the dirt. He tried to get up, but another crimson hoof smashed into his face, putting him back down. Burst choked as blood filled his nose and mouth, coughing as Cossack’s powerful form appeared over him.
Before he could rise again, Cossack pressed his weight down into Burst Rate’s neck, choking him of his life. The smaller pony kicked and bit, but his blows might as well have fallen against a mountain.
Burst let out a silent, choking shout as Cossack’s hard eyes bore into him. He squirmed, but Cossack only pressed down harder, a darkness filling in the edges of Burst’s vision as he failed to draw breath.
He scrambled for something, anything as he continued to kick upwards with his hind legs, trying to find a soft spot but hitting only rock hard muscle. His forehooves found nothing within reach, and his spear and knife were nowhere to be seen.
Fear pierced his heart as it pounded up into his ears, choking for oxygen so close he could taste it. But Cossack did not relent, black dots dancing across Burst’s vision, his struggles failing as he looked back up at Cossack...and saw it.
The bolt, stuck in a tree branch above.
He ignited his horn, grabbing at it with failing tendrils of magic, tugging and pulling as the darkness crept slowly across his vision. Black spots intermittently hid the bolt above him from view as they danced across his eyes, telling him he was about to die. He continued to tear and tug at it, doing his best to ignore the growing darkness.
Burst’s lungs burned, his head heavy and woozy, inky blackness spilling out across his eyes but just as he thought he was going to go under, he felt the bolt come free from the tree and let it fall. It seemed to drop in slow motion, the heavy head coming about as Burst’s magic failed.
Gravity did the rest.
Cossack’s eyes went wide with surprise as his legs dropped out from under him. Burst Rate barely got a breath in before the giant earth pony fell atop him, faced pressed right against Burst’s. For a few moments, the larger pony’s eyes glared full of hate and surprise, but slowly glazed over as a deathly rattle escaped him.
Burst gulped down precious oxygen, the weight of the body nearly preventing him from doing so. He lay there for a few minutes, getting his breath back before shoving at the body atop him, trying to free himself. His hooves trembled against the literally dead weight and for a moment he feared he might be stuck, but then the corpse shifted and rolled off to one side.
Burst scrambled back from the corpse, still getting his breath back. He grimaced as he brought up a hoof to rub his sore neck, not doubting it would bruise.
Then his eyes bulged wide as he rolled to one side and puked, the sounds of his retching filling the quiet of the clearing. His body trembled as the taste of bile lingered on his tongue, the stench of half-digested food and bile filling his bloodied nostrils.
Then Cossack let out a moan.
Burst Rate gave a startled cry, hopping up as he turned to find the giant...still dead, listless eyes staring beyond infinity.
Spitting to clear his mouth, Burst approached the body with caution. Giving Cossack a quick once-over, he spotted the bolt that had saved his life. It had plunged straight down into the back of Cossack’s neck, severing his spine near the base of his skull. Even so, he gave the body a kick.
It didn’t react.
A sigh of relief escaped Burst Rate as he sat back, getting his racing heart back on a slower beat. He had killed again. First Wolf, now Cossack.
There was a twinge of something in the back of his mind. Regret? Shame? Fear?
He tore his gaze from the body, shoving the thought away.
“He came here to kill me,” Burst snapped at himself, spitting again to clear the taste of bile from his mouth, “He was killing me, only fair I returned the favor.”
The mental twinge withered away.
Burst Rate winced as he stood again, heading out to grab his spear and knife…


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Cossack had no doubt left a trail to the clearing, meaning the General would have a direct path to him if he stuck around. After gathering his things and dousing the fire, he was off again, carefully plotting and invisible path through the dense foliage.
The darkness of the young night smothered him, forcing him to squint down every once in a while to ensure he wasn’t leaving any trail to follow. He wondered how the General would react when he came across his dead pony.
Fear, Burst mentally growled, I should hope. Yet thinking back over everything he knew about the General, he began to doubt that assessment, No, he’s likely too insane to even comprehend fear. If anything, he may come at me all the harder. He paused for a moment, thinking on that and giving the ground a worried glance. He ignited his horn just long enough to examine his prints, or a lack thereof, before continuing with renewed care.
But I’ve upped the game as well, he thought, eyeing the spear he’d tied across his back. He settled his eyes on the impenetrable darkness before him, and I plan to end it the next time I see that feathered bastard...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Burst continued his tireless trot long into the night, putting a few good hours of meandering travel in before he stopped for a short rest. Sleep again tugged at his eyes and he knew that he needed his rest after losing  so much blood.
Still, the thought of closing his eyes, letting his guard down even for a moment, left a sour taste in his mouth. He cast his gaze about the dark forest as he settled down at the base of a tree, keeping both knife and spear within easy reach.
He hissed in pain as the wound in his leg flared up, glancing back and igniting his horn to ensure it remained closed. It did.
Laying out, he settled his head atop his forehooves, letting his eyelids flutter shut as he attempted to sleep. Breath by breath he got his breathing under control, slowing his heart and focusing on relaxing his tensed muscles. His agitated fright kept him on edge, drawing him back each time he felt the onset of sleep. Yet each time the interval grew and eventually darkness consumed him.
His dreams were anything but pleasant...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Dull sunlight warmed his muzzle by the time he snapped awake, ears snapping to attention as he took in his surroundings.
Yet he heard nothing out of the ordinary, an ideal step above what he’d awoken to yesterday.
Pushing himself to his hooves he dug into his bag for a canned breakfast, happily noting the fact that even he couldn’t tell where he’d come from. He’d done a much better job at covering his tracks this time around.
Tucking the empty can back in his bag, he started off again at a calculated pace, weaving this way and that through the forest, tracing an unfollowable path through the foliage.
Today was the third day, only one remained and the General was almost on his own. Would that make him hesitant, Burst wondered, or all the more eager to find and kill him?
We’ll just have to wait and see...


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...It was well into the day and Burst Rate was enjoying a can of pineapple when an all-too familiar voice cut through the foliage. 
“I found Cossack’s body this morning!” the General’s voice called out through the foliage, “it intrigued me, how he managed to die. However did you accomplish such a feat, mister Rate!? You must show me, I am truly intrigued!”
I’ll show you all right, Burst gave a mental growl. He stood from where he’d been taking a quick break, polishing off the can quickly as he grabbed his spear, Do I stalk him and strike or try to escape? he wondered.
“How did you manage it, mister Rate?” the General called out again, “Pluck it from him and drive it down into his neck? Have you finally come to your senses about my hunting, then? Are you ready to partake in the hunt for the most dangerous game?!”
He doesn’t know I have the spear, Burst decided, moving off in search of the voice. He kept quiet, moving like liquid through the foliage as he flanked around the sound of the General’s voice.
“No, no, that hardly makes sense, I know…knew Cossack quite well,” the General’s voice paused, “I doubt a pony such as yourself could be sneaky enough to steal a bolt right from under his nose,” the General laughed, “No, he probably managed to miss somehow, yet that in and of itself seems just as unlikely. I could hardly imagine a pony such as yourself capable of such a feat!”
Snarling, Burst spat back his own cry, “You’d be surprised what I’m capable of, General Rayford! And you’ll be just as dead from it as well!”
Silence replied.
The sudden lack of noise was somehow chilling, making Burst pause mid-step with his spear held aloft. Why had the General suddenly ceased his banter?
Idiot, idiot, idiot! Why did you reply, now he knows where you are! Burst chastised himself, keeping low and creeping away as he realized his folly. His heart rate spiked upwards at the snap of a branch above and he ducked away quickly, glaring up.
A slight creak met his ears. Burst threw himself to the side, the nip of something sharp stinging the side of his face. The arrow thunked into a tree behind him.
Scrambling to his hooves, Burst let out a wild cry as he brought his spear before him. The General grinned from a branch, two arrows left in his quiver. He hopped down, gliding forth on silent wings to land a few paces from the pony.
“He refuses to run!” the General laughed, sliding the bow back into its quiver as he brought his talons to bear, “Perhaps I should not so easily dismiss you of killing Cossack, mister Rate. I like your spear, four pronged, fire hardened, shall we see how you wield it?”
Burst prepared to thrust the weapon forwards when there was a sudden crash of foliage and Otis tackled him from the side. The smallish dog snarled and snapped onto Burst’s right ear as he plowed into him, knocking him to the side.
Burst rolled, bringing his spear close to him as he crashed through the foliage and down the steep slope of a hidden hill. Otis yelped in surprise as Burst grabbed onto him with his hooves, the two of them rolling in a tangle of limbs to the bottom of the hill.
Otis clawed at his belly and snapped at Burst’s face, ready to tear out his throat. The dog let out a yelp as Burst hoofed him upside the head, knocking him away. He got to his hooves quickly as the dog snarled and began to circle, looking for an opening.
He’s trying to buy time for the General, Burst thought, bringing up his spear and lunging forwards. Otis ducked to the side and bit down on the spear’s shaft, trying to wrench it out of Burst’s magical grip. He felt the weapon slipping and bit down on the other end, yanking back.
Grabbing a rock in his magic, he flung it at Otis’ face, knocking him off the spear with a yelp. Burst pulled back.
The dog’s yelp turned to a gurgle as Burst drove his spear’s fire hardened tips into the creature’s throat. The spear made a sick sucking sound, blood bubbling out of Otis’ neck and maw as he pulled away. The dog stumbled backwards, whimpering up blood.
With a grunt Burst drove the weapon into the meat of Otis’ right foreleg, yanking the weapon free as he hit the ground. Burst fled to the sounds of Otis choking on his own blood, breathing hard and glancing about for signs of the General.
Wings fluttered above as something large dropped a shadow across him. Burst threw himself to the side, bringing his spear to bear as the General crashed down on where he’d just been. A mad smile lit up his face.
“Another dog?” the General hardly spared a glance back as Otis continued to die, his painful writhing already beginning to slow, “I have toyed with you too long, mister Rate!”
Burst thrust the spear forwards, the General sidestepping and slashing forth with his claws. Burst yelped backwards, smacking the General across the ribs with the spear as he went. The griffon hardly seemed to notice as he pounced forwards, claws outstretched.
Hopping back again, Burst got his spear between them, keeping it close enough to grab with his mouth should the General try to take it.
The General’s tail twitched back and forth as, ever the predator, he began to slowly circle the pony, keeping just out of reach with the spear. His smile hardly faltered as he laughed, undermining Burst’s confidence.
“Where has this sudden fight come from, mister Rate?” the General inquired, “you truly have come to your senses, then! Perhaps if you survive your last day you will join me now that you’ve killed Cossack?”
“Never!” Burst growled back, feinting forwards with the spear. The General flinched back, smiling all the way as he continued to circle.
The General gave a shrug of his wings, “Some time still remains for you to change your mind...or for me to take it,” his smile widened.
Or for me to take yours! Burst jabbed forth with a cry, hoping to catch the General off guard. Instead, the General caught his spear.
Burst bit down on his end of the spear, pulling back with both magic and muscle. He drew his knife and thrust that forwards, but the General ducked and it went wide. Before he could bring the weapon around for another attempt, the General’s claws swept forwards.
Only by jerking his head to one side did Burst retain his vision in both eyes. He cried out as the General’s talons sliced troughs in the left side of his face, missing the eye by an inch. At the same time, the General yanked hard, tearing the spear from Burst’s imploding magic and tossing it away.
Keeping only the knife between them now, Burst scrambled away, wincing at the pain rippling across his face. The General matched him step for step, grinning all the way. Burst shouted as he slashed forwards, twisting the knife and slashing the General’s hand as he tried to swipe the weapon away.
The General darted back, crimson dripping from his claws, “The pony has grown claws!” the General called, glancing only a moment at his injury.
“Do you like their feel!?” Burst snarled back, blinking away blood.
The General struck again, rushing forth in a mass of muscle, talons, and feathers. Burst let out a shout, slicing wildly as he turned and fled into the dense undergrowth. The General was only a few short paces behind, charging right after his quarry.
“If you cannot face me,” the General gave a short chuckle, “Then you’d best turn and run!”
Burst let out a growl, gritting his teeth against the pain as he pulled the knife in closer to keep from losing it.
Open combat isn’t the way to go. He’s larger, faster, stronger! he let out a curse as some low hanging branches slapped across his bloodied face, and he’s got those talons, the pain reminded him.
Maybe I can’t outfight him, but I’m smaller, I can navigate this forest much faster! Burst’s mind raced, I’ve outraced him before, I can do it again!
So onwards he charged through the forest, leaping high and ducking low, heart racing as his breath came in short, gulping gasps. The crashing of foliage behind him let him know that the General kept on his tail...though was slowly losing ground to his smaller adversary.
Burst’s legs burned beneath him as he galloped. Over a rock and under a tree’s limb, the leaves slapping him in his bloody face. Then all the green dropped away, the soft soil turning to hard stone beneath his hooves. He skidded to a halt, breathing hard as he came to the edge of a cliff. Rabid waves tore at the bottom nearly a hundred feet below, blue-black in the growing light.
No! No! No! Burst mentally snarled. He couldn’t be caught at a dead end like this! He turned, preparing to run when the arrow took him in the shoulder. Burst Rate cried out, the knife dropping from his magic as he stumbled away...and over the edge of the cliff.
Scrabbling, he managed to snag the edge before he plunged down to his death, whimpering as the arrow jerked and tore at him. Gritting his teeth, he made to hoist himself up but froze as the General’s grinning head poked over the edge, eyes lighting up as he nocked a final arrow...and laughed suddenly.
Burst’s ears folded back at the sudden sound, bloodshot eyes finding that the General’s bow was still only nocked.
“You know, mister Rate, I’m standing here and wondering something,” the General began, laughter dying suddenly.
Burst adjusted his grip, grimacing at the pain the arrow was causing him.
“You’ve nearly beat the record for my most dangerous game. Succeeded where others haven’t in some ways. Cossack and a number of my pack defeated, not to mention having me dead to rights multiple times!” the General looked out over the horizon for a moment, “and I find myself wondering...wondering something strange, mister Rate. You’ve provided to be one the most dangerous game animals that I’ve ever come across,” the General gave another chuckle, “so I wonder...should I let him live, or shall I send his soul to the gods and keep his head as my trophy?”
Burst Rate winced, scanning about for something…anything he could use as a weapon. Yet he couldn’t see his knife, nor any weapon but the General’s own bow, and that he held tight. He could try to throw the griffon off the cliff, but he had wings and would surely just take to the skies instead of fall.
The salt of the sea washed up the cliff face to him.
“Well, I have a proposition,” the general continued with a wide grin, “join me.”
Burst Rate was quiet, grimacing with pain as he held onto the cliff.
“Take Cossack’s place beside me,” the general continued, gaze boring right into Burst Rate’s soul, “I can always get more diamond dogs, but when it comes to good ponies it’s a whole nother story. You will be provided for like a noble of the old times! Eat the finest of foods! Sleep in the finest of beds! Bed the finest of mares!” he chuckled at the last part, “Should you so wish.”
“And hunt the finest game? The most dangerous game!?” Burst snarled back. The General’s smile, impossibly, widened, Burst’s injured hoof slipped for a moment, sending pebbles crashing down, “This is insane, General! Utter madness!”
The waves ripped and roared up the cliff once more.
The General threw back his head in a laugh, “Madness is simply what the unenlightened call the ideals of the enlightened!” he retorted with his grin. For a time he simply stared down at the tiring Burst Rate, gaze calculating, evaluating, almost caressing the pony like a prize animal, “You cannot be made to see reason and join me?” he finally inquired.
Burst Rate glanced back over his withers at the sea below, then gave the General a hard stare.
“Good bye, General Rayford,” Burst Rate growled.
“Good bye, Burst Rate,” the General grinned, drawing his bow in a swift motion to finish the pony.
But Burst Rate didn’t give him the pleasure as he let go of the cliff, falling to the embrace of the sea. The General faded quickly as the wind tore at him, the ocean racing up to meet him with its salty, wet embrace.
Darkness took him as he hit the water.


The end

> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

GENERAL RAYFORD sat in his study, nursing a glass of hard cider as he read one of the many novels stocked amongst the shelves. A crackling fire in the room’s fireplace was his only company as he flicked through the pages with a talon.
There was a sudden loud banging, magically amplified so that it could be heard anywhere in the great mansion. The sound roused the General from the book, eyes darting up with curiosity. He made to call Cossack, but quickly remembered that the pony was dead. He frowned at that, swirling his glass thoughtfully as he gazed into it. Cossack had been of great help over the years, quiet and obedient and massive. It would be a trial in itself to get ahold of another specimen like him.
Rayford sighed and sipped at his drink. Burst Rate would have been an excellent choice, he was certain, had they only seen eye to eye. Perhaps he was not so large as Cossack, but he was only a unicorn and that in itself brought on its own perks.
But there was no point in crying over spilt blood, the General knew. Burst Rate had chosen death, he only hoped that the body might wash up somewhere. That pony’s head would be a fine piece...provided the crabs didn’t take too much of it beforehand.
Standing from the chair, he drew his thoughts to the present, wondering who might be at his door. He had sent out Fang to scan the coasts for any sign of Burst Rate; he had found nothing yesterday, but the General hoped that today would yield better results.
“Buddy, poluchit' dver',” he called, setting aside drink and book as he stood. It hardly mattered that Buddy was nowhere near, enchantments in the mansion would see to it the diamond dog heard.
The General’s claws clacked over the tile of the hallway as he stepped from his study, moving to greet whoever was at the door. It might be difficult to deal with any new prey with Cossack and two of his dogs dead, but he was sure he could handle it.
Buddy had only just reached the door by the time the General stepped into the final hallway leading to it. Favoring his casted foreleg, Buddy pulled the door open with his maw. Fang stood in the doorway, sopping wet with something across his back, orange and green in color. The General sped up his pace, grin splitting his beak.
“Fang, drop it,” the General ordered in Stalliyi.
Fang shrugged and deposited the orange and green body on the marble.
The General eyed the body over, wet and battered with a multitude of injuries, yet salvageable. He turned his eyes to the dogs, who awaited in silence. He would need his cutting implements and preservation tools, and quickly if he wanted to...
The body gave a single cough, startling the General into silence.
“General, the pony is still…” Fang began.
Burst Rate’s eyes fluttered and opened, “I win,” he rasped from the floor, weakly glaring up at the General.
General Rayford grinned…


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Time passed for Burst Rate at a fevered pace of frenetic sensations. The General hovered over him, grin as wide as a gorge. A massive paw wiped his feverish brow with a damp cloth. Warm broth spilled down his throat, filling his weak body with renewed vigor.
There were times he was cold despite the large fire and heavy blankets, others when he was hot beyond measure, others where sweat bathed him while he shivered and managed to keep nothing down, not even the bile.
It was all some wild dream, he swore, induced by the madness of some foul sickness that had taken him. Yet he could not awaken from it, could not control it, could do nothing but tag along for the ride.
“Soon, Mister Rate. Soon,” a hushed voice hissed in his ear…


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


...Burst Rate awoke with a gasp, jolting upright in a great, big bed large enough for two or more ponies to sleep comfortably and made of a fine, soft silk. His eyes gazed over the room: the barred window, a roaring fireplace, and his camera on the bedside nightstand.
It was no dream, he realized.
His body was sore despite the quality of the bed, aching and cramping as he flung off the sheets and rolled off. His forelegs nearly collapsed out from under him as he hit the floor, making him stumble awkwardly on the wooden tiles.
Trotting slowly to the bathroom, he looked over himself. Cuts and scratches adorned his body with thick, white bandages as his only clothing. Pushing through the bathroom door, he halted as he spotted himself in the mirror.
His eyes were wild with great purplish splotches telling of a lack of sleep. Bandages wrapped across the side of his face that the General had slashed, hiding what he assumed would be grievous scars. His mane was in a wild disarray, clean like the rest of him, but a mess of tangles and knots.
A keavy key turned in the lock on his door. Burst turned quickly, nearly slipping on the tiles as the door opened on silent hinges.
Fang stepped into the room, holding a silver platter in one massive forepaw. He halted, growling and sniffing as he noted the empty bed, then turned to the bathroom where Burst met his gaze.
For a moment there was a standstill, Pony and Diamond Dog glaring at each other with curled lips and bared teeth, but then Fang broke off. He moved to the bed, setting down the platter before turning to leave.
“Pony to eat,” Fang growled, turning as he passed through the door, “wait.”
The door slammed shut and was locked.
Trotting carefully towards the bed, keeping an eye on the door, Burst made his way back to the bed. A thick, steaming bowl of broth awaited him, the delightful aroma making Burst’s stomach gurgle.
He downed it quickly, stomach grumbling for something more solid. He didn’t have to wait long before again before Fang reappeared with his curled lip snarling.
Gesturing with a forepaw, he gave a simple command, “Pony to come. To General...”


~ ~ ~ ~  <  \/   /\   \/  >  ~ ~ ~ ~


…“Ah, my guest awakens!” General Rayford exclaimed merrily as Burst was escorted into the dining room by Fang. The dog slunk off to a corner, settling down to watch the pony, “I do apologize for having started without you,” the General apologized, gesturing to his half-finished plate of fancily prepared pancakes, “but I’d imagine you’d remain bedridden a few days more.”
Burst Rate’s only reply was a growl as he sat opposite the grinning griffon. As with before, a single dish and mug of coffee sat before him.
“I never did find out how you took your coffee, Mister Rate,” the General commented, eyes flicking to the steamy mug set before the pony.
“Black is fine,” Burst replied coldly. He eyed his silverware momentarily, “What happens now?”
The General finished chewing and set down his fork, “Now?” he inquired, dapping at his beak with a napkin.
“Do not bucking toy with me, General!” Burst rate snapped, slamming both hooves down on the table. Fang growled menacingly from the corner as Burst leaned towards the griffon, “I beat you! You don’t get to toy with me any longer!” his plate and silverware rattled as he smashed a hoof down on the table, “You will release me.”
The General’s cheer grew cold, a menacing air filling him as he slowly set the dirtied napkin aside. A chill filled Burst’s gut, but he refused to back down as the General let his eyes bore into the pony for a few, very long, seconds.
When the griffon spoke, the words left him at a slow pace, a quiet menace about them, “And what will you do when I release you?”
Burn this place to the ground, Burst didn’t say, letting his silence be the only answer.
“Now how can I let you go?” the General replied, sitting back comfortably. He let his eyes roll over the pony for a moment, gesturing leisurely with a claw, “Look at you. You are still a beast at bay, Mister Rate,” a grin split his beak, one that made Burst flinch back a bit as it seemed to cut him down a notch, “You’re so very much like me, now. Like Cossack, like my dogs.”
“You’re wrong, General,” Burst spat back, “I killed Cossack, I killed two of your dogs,” he glanced over at Fang, who let out a low growl, “beat the other two.”
“You did,” the General agreed with a curt nod, “and now you may rise to take their place. Rise to hunt at my side as Cossack did. You have been hunted and yet live! Now rise to join the hunters and thrive!”
“Never,” Burst Rate swore.
The General was, for once, silent. The two locked gazes for a few moments before the General turned back to his food as if nothing had happened. Burst glared on as the griffon quickly finished with a contented sigh. Then to turned to Fang, giving a quick order in Stalliyi.
“Da, General” Fang growled, glaring at Burst as he left the room. The door locked behind him.
“My dogs shall not intervene,” the General grinned, “not until we have a victor among us.”
Burst Rate stepped away from the table, watching as the General moved briskly to a far wall. A set of spears with differing lengths and points were mounted upon a rack, the General selected one and turned, grinning.
“I shall allow you a weapon, to help even the odds,” the General said. He cocked back his arm and threw with a cry of, “Catch!”
Burst flinched, throwing out his magic to grab the spear from the air, bringing it to him. Four metal prongs stuck from its head.
“A fitting replacement for the one you lost,” the General said, waiting, “Shall we begin?”
Burst’s lip curled back in a snarl as he brought the weapon to bear.
The General grinned.
With a flap of his wings, the General took to the air, rushing towards and to Burst’s side. Burst turned to meet him, jabbing out quickly. The General ducked and darted around the point, trying to get inside its reach. Burst hopped to the side, barely dodging a slash towards his ribs and swinging the butt end of the spear into the General’s gut.
The griffon darted away, laughing as he put some distance between them.
“Even wounded, he still may fight!” the General cheered, eyes wide with delight.
Burst rushed after the General, keeping his spear close so as not to lose it again.
The General swooped up, darting about midair and diving down towards Burst with talons outstretched. Burst leaped to one side, jabbing up with the spear. Yet hot pain blasted across his back as one of the griffon’s talons sliced across his back as the General predicted the move. Droplets of red splashed through the air as the General rushed off again.
“Yet, perhaps his tactics require some work?” the General wondered aloud. He eyed the bright, red blood on his claw. In an instant he was corkscrewing downwards for another attack.
How about, this, then, General!? Burst let loose a snarl, jabbing upwards with his spear, eyes darting for only a moment to the table. The General dodged again past the spear, but took Burst’s plate of pancakes to his face.
The porcelain shattered against the side of the General’s face, splattering him with uneaten food. A startled caw escaped him as he pulled a hasty retreat. Burst bloodied his spear with a quick jab to one of the General’s hind legs.
“And yet again he proves more than meager game!” the General’s grin faltered now as he took a moment to wipe at his face with a claw. Small specks of blood appeared where the porcelain shards had bitten him, “yet he is still no more than meat!”
The General came in low, swatting at Burst’s spear with one set of talons and slashing at his throat with another. Burst ducked under the attack, feeling his mane parting atop his head before headbutting upwards into the General’s gut, swinging his spear like an oversized baton.
His horn didn’t quite penetrate the griffon’s hide, but the haft of his spear connected solidly and the General smashed into Burst Rate’s chair. With a shout, he jabbed down toward’s the griffon’s chest, but the General caught the pronged tip with his wing.
The multi-pointed head easily penetrated the General’s wing, but a jerk of the appendage nearly tore it from Burst’s magical grasp. The General took the opening, slashing across Burst’s face. 
Bandages tore loose as Burst turned his head to the side, old wounds reopening with new ones as the General’s talons met his flesh. He retreated rapidly, pulling the spear free as he blinked away blood.
The General’s talons slashed out again and Burst let loose a cry as flesh parted across his left knee, nearly dropping him to the ground. His spear skimmed the General’s shoulder, the griffon batting it away and striking again. Yet Burst’s magic brought his chair between them and the General’s talons only bit into wood.
“He’s failing!” the General cried out with glee.
“Buck you!” Burst spat back, smacking the General with the head of his spear. The General accepted the blow and caught the weapon, grinning. With a grunt, Burst blasted the chair at him, knocking him back. 
The General wrenched the spear away as he was bowled over, sending it clattering away. 
Wasting no time, Burst chased after the weapon, grabbing it in his magic and bringing it close as he turned...and took a chair upside the head, sending him sprawling. The spear clattered away once more.
Burst could only blink, stunned as the General tossed his impromptu weapon away, standing. His hooves scrabbled numbly as the General grabbed his tail and dragged him close, grinning all the way.
Fumbling with his magic, Burst grabbed the spear and threw it at the General, points first. The General only had to duck, letting it sail away and clatter harmlessly to the floor.
The General slashed across Burst’s chest and he screamed as talons scraped across bone. Blood poured quickly from the wound as the General’s talons clamped tight against his throat.
The world spun and pain exploded across Burst’s face as he was flung, headfirst into the wall. He slumped to the ground, trying to get his worthless hooves to work. He merely managed to roll himself over, coming face to face with General Rayford, spear points ready to jab into his throat.
Above him, the hissing Hydra’s head stared down at them from the wall. A frantic idea sprouted in Burst’s head. His horn ignited as he grabbed the head, tugging at it. It moved just enough that he was able to spot the knotted ropes tying it to the wall. His immediately grabbed at them with his magic, tearing at them.
“I wanted the most dangerous game, mister Rate,” the General laughed, relishing the moment as he stared down at the pony, “and you have not disappointed!”
Keep him talking, just a little more! Burst thought, gritting his teeth as he continued to work his magic on the straps, keeping up the hydra’s mounted head. Another two came undone, one left.
“Yet you never were a match for me. My dogs, Cossack, but never me, Mister Rate, never me!” he cocked back the spear, ready to thrust.
“You’re wrong about me, General,” Burst Rate said, the words coming unbidden from him, “I told you what I considered to be the most dangerous game! On the night we first met! Do you remember what I said?”
“Oh?” the General asked, grinning as if he considered some final jest, “No, mister Rate, I do not. Do tell. What do you think is the most dangerous game?!”
The final knot unraveled. Burst threw his magic around the massive head, shoving it away from the wall just enough. The General had only time to look up, his jaw dropping as the hydra head smashed down onto him with a crunch of bone.
“Hydras,” said Burst Rate, letting out a breath of relief.
Dark, black blood flowed out from under the mounted head, trickling outwards towards Burst Rate. He shifted slightly as the General’s blood met his own growing puddle, trying to stand. Yet pain flared and he was powerless against it, collapsing back down.
He tried yet again, but his head swam and he felt his hooves slip from under him, landing him once again on the ground. He lay there for a while, his wounds numbing. His teeth chattered, as a coldness began to ensnare him. Burst tried moving himself closer to the fireplace, but his hooves moved feebly about him and he quickly ceased. Besides, he was rather tired...deathly tired.
He would rest here awhile, he decided. The pool of blood growing about him was actually rather warm, almost like a soft blanket or a warm bath and all around him the world was growing dark and soundless.
He had never slept better, Burst Rate decided.