A pony turned to survey his surroundings. The sweet smells of the forest would have regaled him if he took note; spring’s lush kiss had only recently bestowed the land with newfound vigor. Rich mosses and ferns sprang up along the streams that cut through the ancient woods he called home, and the trees themselves, wet from recent rain, practically sang out with all the lust of nature. Swollen to the brim, the streams gurgled beautifully as early morning sun shafted lightly in through the canopy and illuminated the swirling dust kicked up by spring green wingfeathers. In the middle of it all sat the forest’s most private glade. The floor a matted tawny of last season’s pine needles, a smattering of stones, and the odd wildflower, this inner sanctum was currently home to one of the only two ponies for acres.
Hovering silently in the air, bow cocked back to reveal sinewy muscle on a thin frame, the viridian Pegasus known as Mint actively ignored the resplendent glory of nature. His eyes instead darted back and forth, intent on catching sight of any out-of-place rustle. When the light hit those eyes at a certain angle, the brilliant tendrils of dawn would pluck out the amber hues from the deep emerald green of his irises. Mint’s blinding-white mane was tinged the slightest bit pink by the rosy fingers of the sunrise. Although quite beautiful to look upon, he was still fearsome in his hunt. Every nerve in his body stood at attention, ready to spring into action should reflex give the command. An eternity passed, and nothing happened. Finally, Mint’s keen hunting senses picked up on the slightest rustle of a shrub. He grinned to himself. The hunt was back on.
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Immediately, but without the slightest of sounds, Mint dropped altitude. Drawing his arrow back a little more as he nearly alighted on the forest floor, he sent it whistling into the shrub, a mere five lengths away from him. A startled braying followed shortly by an eruption of foliage told him that the arrow had found its mark. The Pegasus deftly drew another arrow from his quiver as he tracked his prey through the trees. A quick brown colt, the earth pony dashed between the trees with relative ease considering an arrow was sprouting from his right flank. Mint flew just behind, constantly avoiding the branches that reached out to tether him. However, the advantage of flight was clear, as the earth-bound pony began to stumble over roots as he struggle to keep up his pace. Mint loosed another arrow, this time narrowly missing the other pony. The Pegasus swore quietly under his breath as the startled quarry redoubled its pace.
The trees were becoming thicker as they went, and it was becoming harder and harder for the hunter to fly and aim simultaneously. Scarcely dodging a thick pine branch, Mint hefted another arrow before drawing it back. This time, instead of firing down from above, he dropped himself to the level of the brown colt and flew right behind him. Drafting in the earth pony’s wake, he sped up to him with ease. Sensing the flying menace closing in behind him, the hunted was suddenly possessed of a quick idea. He dug his front hooves into the ground, coiled his body together like a spring, and shot his hind legs out in a powerful buck that could have dropped a thousand apples. Mint, always quick on his wings, was ready for this. He turned a neat somersault over the kick, and, twisting in midair, came to face his prey, bow cocked. There was a distinct, if short, moment in which both of their eyes met. Then, Mint fired.
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After spending five minutes dragging the body, Mint came to a lake. Pulling out the arrow, he reflected upon the last moments of the dead pony before him. His face was frozen in the contortions of recoil, as if disgusted by the simple flight of an arrow into his chest. Mint chuckled as he silently chided the brown pony for the mistakes of not facing his death with honor and even attempting this endeavor to begin with. Taking a particularly heavy arrowhead, Mint took to the flank of the prey. With expert precision gained only by experiences, it was a matter of seconds before he had removed the patch of coat that housed the pony’s cutie mark. Two steel-gray horseshoes, followed by what Mint could only assume was wind. A clever representation of the incredible speed the pony had possessed. The hunter-pegasus tucked the patch into his quiver, then struggled the body out over the lake and dropped it in. A resounding splash was followed by a quick prayer, muttered as to absolve him of sin. With that simple ritual completed, he turned and raced back over the forest.
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The thatched roofs of Trotsdale rose on the horizon, with the bustle of the village now in full swing. A knowing smile was offered up by the farmers of the outer village as Mint glided over their plots. Finally coming to a small building easily recognizable as a tavern, the brilliant green pony flared his wings back and came to settle with a few clops on the cobblestone of the town. Trotting over and knocking aside the door, Mint barged in. As he expected, nopony sat at the tables with a pint of cider or a leafy salad. The single pony in the establishment was the owner, a cheery-looking if old grey stallion. He looked up mindlessly from his mopping duties, as if he had been expecting Mint earlier. His gaze slightly missed, as always.
“What took so long?” The blind stallion let loose an incredible sneeze, wiped his hoof across his nose, and began a limping gait across the room towards the younger pony. Mint chortled.
“Stopped to smell the flowers, I s’pose. What’s the bit-out on this one, Caecilius?” Mint’s shy tenor unleashed its bright tones in the old pony’s familiar company. Caecilius took a hoof to what stubble his chin possessed, then declared,
“Ah don’t know. Ah don’t even think he’d hit the books in Canterlot yet. He was young enough to be yer 'prentice!" Mint raised an eyebrow, reminded of the fact that he had a responsibility to the tutelage of somepony in his craft. "I s’pose it wouldn’t be right to keep you on me hoof, though. How’s ten bits sound?” Mint gave an affirmative nod and deposited the horseshoed cutie mark on the counter and took ten bits from Caecilius’ pouch beneath it.
“Thank ye kindly, friend. Now I’ve some sleep to catch up on – I’ll swing by on the evening and lend my hand ‘round here. Now get back to work, ya old codger!”
Mint burst out the door, smiling grin to grin. It was always good to see his friends in a good mood. Weighing the bits in his hand as he rushed towards home, he mused aloud:
“It ain’t an easy life. But sometimes, it do feel nice bein a Duelist.”
It was midday, and a rattling wooden cart groaned carefully down a foothill in the far north of Equestria. The sun’s rays beat down unmercifully from its high throne; the pitch between the timbers of the cart had begun to melt and the ground felt sizzling to the touch of a hoof. No wind played about to grant a refreshing breeze; no cloud passed to give a brief respite from the furious heat. Anypony who enjoyed the luxury would spend such a day indoors, or somewhere the shade could shield them. That lucky pony was not Podokwa the zebra.
A rusted iron girdle sat about his striped neck, but served no purpose. The pony’s current struggle had his back jutted up against the creaking cart, his hoofs falling in careful steps down the dusty path in order to keep the cart from running away. Thin tail pinned against the unforgiving wood, the gigantic zebra was unable to flick away the flies that flocked to his sweaty flanks. All he was able to do was grit his teeth and continue slowly down the path, occasionally glancing up longingly at the forest – and accompanying shade – ahead. He rolled his eyes as he picked up on a shout from inside the cart.
“Podokwa! Podokwa! Careful! Keep it steady, you oaf!” A portly tan pony, comically donning the exact same shade in a panama hat, puffed on a fashionable black cigarette as he called out to the prize jewel of his most recent slaving expedition.
Podokwa paid him no heed. The only thing about him that exceeded his size and strength was his immense mental focus. The only sign that he had heard the slave-master was a barely audible snort of distaste. Only a few hundred more lengths separated him from the forest and the shade he so desperately required. Knowing it would only make him more thirsty, he refrained from smacking his lips expectantly and carried onward down the path.
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“Watcha doin’ there?”
“Ah, nothin’ much, just pickin’ some berries.”
“Picking berries, you say?”
“Eeyup. Just a’pickin berries. Pickin’ berries. Piiiickin’ berries. Piiiickin’ beeeerrriess. Pickin’ berries.” Mint idly conversed with himself as he meandered through the forest he called home, collecting ingredients for Caecilius’ special Sweet Berry Wine. It wasn’t a task he particularly enjoyed, but he traded these chores for his tab at the tavern, and it afforded him the time alone that he preferred. Moments melded into hours so beautifully inside his mind, out on his own, and Mint enjoyed the company of himself. Besides, he fancied himself somewhat of a kind pony, and Celestia knew that Caecilius couldn’t go out and pick berries himself.
“That daft old stallion’d probably pick his self all poisonberries!” Mint laughed at the image and glided onward towards the edge of the forest, humming a quick tune as he plucked the deep violet berries off of branches only a pegasus could reach.
He caught pause, however, as he was about to break into the sunlight of the foothills. Only a hundred lengths from him, a cart bearing the unmistakable traces of a slaver trundled dangerously down the hill. Out in front of it, delicately restraining the cart while making his way down the hill, stood the most monstrous pony Mint had ever laid his eyes upon. Granted, zebra colts tended to be pretty large, especially when compared to pegasi. However, this one was an incredible specimen. Mint guessed that he could have at least fit two of himself inside this massive zebra’s frame. What’s more, Mint could tell even from a distance that there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. His raw muscle arched away from his body in all the places that screamed strength and none that signaled obesity. Mint took this all in as he laid down his basket, formulated a plan, and alighted up through the trees and came to rest on a tall pine. Wings still standing at attention, he grasped his hunting blade between his teeth and crouched anxiously. The expert transformation between gatherer and hunter had happened seamlessly, in a few seconds flat. Now Mint waited to gather the riches that wheeled unceremoniously towards him.
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After an eternity of laborious descent, Podokwo was able to peel himself of the front of the cart and wheel the cart comfortably into the welcoming woods. A stream babbled by his side, and all his thoughts were immediately overwhelmed by a necessity for water.
“Mastuh, sah, may I off to da watuh?” Podokwo’s gentle bass of a voice was hampered by his desiccated vocal chords. The tan slavemaster craned his neck as he gazed through the narrow but wide pane in the front of the cart. He grumbled out to Podokwo, grudgingly but appreciative of the zebra’s speedy haul through the mountains,
“Are we at the forest already? Yes, yes, I suppose you may. Hurry up now, time is money!” With something as close to guilt as could touch such a cruel pony as he, he uncorked his own canteen and took a hearty swig of the water he had brought along for himself. Feeling his own throat relax under the cool water, he began dictating aloud the report he was sending out to the lords, touting the abilities of the very zebra he had just temporary liberated from his duties. Thinking giddily of his fortune to come, he spoke obnoxiously loud. Just loud enough, in fact, that he did not hear the back latch of the cart being jimmied.
A forest-green pegasus floated gently above the ground, merely a foot between him and the slavemaster through the wood of the cart, and tensed himself as himself as he prepared to drop the vertical door. Hunting knife grasped firmly between his teeth, he sidestepped as he dropped the door, rolled back, and grasped the neck of the startled slavemaster all in one fluid motion. Quietly removing the taste of steel from his mouth, he quickly replaced it on the neck of the fat, tan pony in front of him. This all happening in the breadth of a second, the less athletic pony had no time to react. Now he found himself quivering with fear as a razor-sharp blade pricked his neck.
“What are you doing? Who are you?” He squirmed and thrashed, but the smaller pony had an iron grip. “Get off of me, you scoundrel!”
Meanwhile, Mint had taken stock of the inside of the cart. A lamp, a few chests that most certainly contained the slaver’s personal belongings, and a few chairs, no doubt meant to imply that the slaver expected company on journeys that he would never have. He quickly spied what he desired: a more ornate chest adorned with cast-iron locks and gold inlay. This would surely hold whatever spoils the slaver had returned home with. Mint growled gruffly,
“Shut up. You and your ilk disgust me. Let’s have ourselves a look at that chest o’er there, eh?”
“You’ll never get away with this! Unhand me!”
Mint laughed abrasively right next to the fat slavemaster’s ear.
“You’re the one in the wrong here, lard-ass. C’mon now, don’t you see? I control you. All this here is mine now. Understand?” The tan pony nodded, gulping audibly. “I’m being generous. All I want from you is what’s in this here chest.”
Slowly and grudgingly the slaver walked over to the chest. Undoing the latch, he seemed physically pained as he emptied its contents into Mint’s saddlebags. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bits worth of jewels chinked together as they fell into the rough burlap. Mint barely managed to force his jaw back up as he addressed the slaver one final time.
“Now go. I’ll have some men from the town out here later to take this thing apart and scrap it for all it’s worth. As for you, I don’t care what you do. But I’m gonna wait here until I see the top of your head get past those hills there. Take one look back, and I kill you.” The lithe green pegasus finished his lecture with a rope of spit delivered to the forehead of the still-quivering slavemaster. Turning tail as quickly as his portly frame would allow, the chubby stallion hustled out of the cart and up the bath, not sparing a glance to test the word of the pony who had just stolen his fortune.
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Mint, of course, only watched him as far as he could keep himself from laughing. Wealth beyond anything he had ever seen was an afterthought to the comical reward of watching the fat pony waddle hurriedly off into the distance. Throwing his head back and cackling in delight, he danced upon the roof of the cart, rejoicing in his newfound prosperity. A deep, booming voice woke him from his quasi-maniacal cart-top ballet.
“Many thanks to you, sah.” Mint whipped around. He had almost forgotten about the gargantuan zebra that had been pulling the cart that he now found himself on top of. Hopping down from it, he extended a hoof towards the giant pony.
“My pleasure, friend. You were probably going to escape anyways, yeah?” He looked expectantly at the pony opposite him. The foreigner replied with a deep grumble,
“Maybe, maybe. I was not planning on it. But you performed this deed for me and I must thank you for it, regardless of necessity.” Mint felt a sudden rush of embarrassment, realizing that his primary intent had been the acquisition of wealth and not the salvation of a pony in need. He coughed awkwardly and managed to play it off well.
“Think nothing of it. The name’s Mintrose Ambrosia, but everypony calls me Mint.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mint. My name is Podokwo. Everypony calls me Podokwo.” Mint laughed and clapped his new friend on the back, with a degree of difficulty regarding his height. Retrieving his berry basket, he motioned down the path, and they began the walk towards Trotsdale. Feeing generous, he ventured,
“Podokwo my friend, it seems as if you’re not from around here. Although I know you have a home somewhere over those mountains, it would be wrong of me not to invite you to experience our world in a, uhh, more positive light. What say you to a night in Trotsdale, courtesy of your buddy Mint, before you head home?”
Podokwo mulled the proposition over. He turned to look at the mountains, but the forest had obscured them from view. It was afternoon, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to make it through to the Savannah during the night. He flashed a grin towards the pegasus and responded,
“Yes, sah. I would indeed enjoy your hospitality tonight, for I am afraid I cannot make it over the mountains alone tonight.”
Mint looked over at the zebra for a second and said,
“Well, it’s a good thing thing I can pay for your food now!” He gave a little wiggle so as to chink together his saddlebags full of gemstones. As they shared a laugh, Mint knew that his intent was not just to keep this zebra for a night. With a comfortable amount of cash, he was ready to take on his first Dueling Apprentice.
After depositing Podokwo off at his cottage, which lay just off the north corner of Trotsdale, obscured by the woods, Mint set out at a clip past the other side of town and down the country road. A breeze had picked up, and the once-brutal sun had given way to a pleasant afternoon. His brilliant white mane flashed as he exhibited incredible displays of exuberant acrobatics. His newfound riches tightly secured in his saddlebags, he was on his way to a wealth his life had never tasted. Extending his forelegs, he tucked into a considerable speed and made haste towards the next town.
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Podokwo stood in the middle of Mint’s one-room cottage, as awkward as a pony could be. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in contact with Equestria, and was amazed at their architecture; rather, he bore the task of waiting patiently as his newfound friend and quasi-savior went off to cash his riches in jewels. He thought absently to himself as to whether or not Mint would give Podokwo any of the money, seeing as he had sort of brought it to the pegasus. He shook off the thought as absently as it came on. His way had always been the polite and reserved one, and he would never infringe upon the matter of another pony’s wealth.
He started to shuffle, in that absent waiting way, around the room that made up Mint’s cottage. The meek highlight of the room was the cast-iron potbelly stove in the center, gone cold so as not to waste wood in these hot summer months. The hulking zebra lumbered over to the left side of the room. There sat Mint’s worn-down cot, which was no more than loosely tied bales of hay on top of a rotting wooden frame, with a frayed tartan quilt thrown over it. Podokwo simultaneously pondered whether or not the bed could support him and why something like a bed would be in such disrepair. He concluded that it would be prudent not to test it, and that Mint probably had somewhere else to sleep. He moved on.
The rest of the room was occupied by strangely organized piles of junk – old hunting equipment, the few clothes that Mint owned, and various articles that most ponies who were in the habit of throwing things away would consider trash. Podokwo felt his eyes drooping. Although relieved of his duties halfway through the day, he had still done a full day of work for any sane or free pony. He glanced longingly at the bed before curling awkwardly onto the floor.
Just as he was about to close his eyes, he turned towards the dusty third wall. What had passed for drawings or etchings earlier in his peripheral vision now came into focus. Pinned to the wall, each by a cheap nail, were dozens of cutie marks – patches of pony flank. Podokwo nearly jumped out of his own skin as he scrambled for the door of this madman’s house.
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A sense of courtesy saw Mintrose Ambrosia whizzing home at top speed, cutting a slight hypotenuse from his errands back to his cottage instead of checking in on Trotsdale’s town square. Just barely clearing his own thatch roof, he dropped down in front of his door and hummed a little to himself as he reached to open it. Just as he extended his hoof, a great mass of black and white came tumbling through a dwarfed frame.
“AAUGHHFFFFFGGGH!” Mint could only scream as his frame was nearly crushed beneath the massive zebra. Podokwo, on the other hand, reared a hoof back for a punch and brought it down right were a slower pony’s head would have been. Mint used his quick dodge to roll up and out from the zebra, and flew up comfortably out of his reach. He gave his best outraged face and shouted,
“What the hay are you doing, you madman?” Podokwo halted his physical panic enough to return the furious look.
“Me? A madman? I am not the crazed murderer here! I have seen your hospitality, and I do not want it!” He was about to turn and bolt back down the path when Mint stopped his hovering and dropped to the ground. He drew a deep breath and threw his hoofs up in the air in a sign of innocence.
“Podokwo, my friend, please come inside. I swear I won’t murder you.” Mint almost chuckled as Podokwo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”
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After a quick preparation of some salad and cheese, Mint dropped some hay bales on the floor for the ponies to sit on. The forest-green pegasus, lit an amiable hue in the candlelight of his comfy cottage, noted that Podokwo’s helping of dinner had vanished before he had turned around. Pushing his own serving towards his guest, he dropped his normally energetic conversational voice down to a more reserved, explanatory pitch. After a quick chew of spinach leaf, he looked at the pony opposite him and ventured,
“I know all this looks bad. But it isn’t the type of barbarism you’ve pegged it to be.” Mint’s wide gestures to the cutie marks on his wall didn’t pull Podokwo’s head towards them. “I guess to explain why they’re there, I have to start at the beginning. Get comfortable, friend.”
