> I Would Smile if I Could
>  by Haku1013
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter One
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I trot through the woods. My woods. My forest. My home. My home is a large one, as it stretches far across the land. Many beings travel the roads that reside within my home, whether they be minotaurs, diamond dogs, griffons, ponies, or just simple animals who already live within my territory. They all travel the roads that reside in my home and, occasionally, they come across me.

Or I come across them.

If I am the one who comes across the travelers, then one of two things happen; I either let them be, if I find them useless to me, or I feed on them, especially if they are young. It is the young that I require most for it is the young whose fear matters most to me.

I trot through the woods, alone.

Alone, as always. I don’t mind, as it has always been as such. I have existed for many years, so many that I have lost count, and in those years I have learned many things, but I have yet to feel more than two things: loneliness and hunger.

I have always been alone, so long that I barely even acknowledge the loneliness any more, but the hunger is a different matter. It can come at anytime and can only be put to rest for short periods of time. Even now the hunger moves through my equine shape. It is unavoidable. Insatiable.

I do not know why I have the form that I do, but I do not complain. I change my appearance with time, so that either my prey fears me most or so I can best look like them. I have always held the shape of a pony though, never anything else. My appendages come and go as well, appearing only when they need to. I myself don’t actually know where they come from or where they go, only that they appear when they need to.

Bird calls fill the air as I make my way through the forest. I stop my walking to look at the sky and see that it is finally darkening. I will be able to feed soon, to quench my hunger.

I hear critters scurrying under the bushes and birds flying over my head. These animals fear me, I can feel it. Should I have to, I shall feed on one of them, but their fear is not what I yearn for. They will only be, as my prey say, a ‘snack.’ I see a rabbit run around my legs and I manage to capture it with an appendage.

The animals suddenly quiet down, as if to take a mournful, fearful pause for a silent lament as I feed on of their friend. I quickly finish off the rodent and discard the empty husk unceremoniously. As soon as I begin my trot again the animals also renew their natural business, their sounds of nature.

Hushed murmurs cause me to pause mid-step. Fear; I can feel it, smell it, taste it. I silently move through my forest, intent on finding them; my prey. I move around a tree and see them. There are only two in number, but both are still young. One is hunched over a smaller one, whispering words.

I can just make them out.

“It’s hurts,” the small one cries. A colt. Earth Pony. The other tries to calm him with silent humming.

“It’ll be alright,” it said. A mare. Unicorn. “Just be quiet, and we’ll leave soon,” she continued.

Both are covered head-to-toe in filthy, torn rags. I have never known why ponies such as these attempt to look like the ones who I have based my newest form on. Ponies do not normally wear clothes as it is, so why do those of low wealth do? I do not care really.

The younger one’s leg is bent at an awkward angle. A sprained ankle perhaps? If so, then this shall be an easy meal. 

I move away from the tree and into their view. The smaller foal sees me instantly but becomes paralyzed with fright. He tries to speak, but with the amount of fear that he radiates I know he will not say a word until it is too late.

I move forward and step on a twig. The mare turns around and we stare at each other intently. Her eyes go wide as she takes in my figure and I can see as the realization of the situation dawns on her face. She says nothing but instead moves into a protective position over the colt.

I can feel her fear. It is more than the young one has. I have always wondered why this is. Why is it that the one’s who are strongest fear me most? Is it because they know that even with all of their strength they could never defeat me? Or is it that they know they cannot be the ones to protect those that I hunt?

The mare will not answer my questions. Her horn glows with magic as I move closer. She fires a bolt of magic at me, but it does nothing. I am fear and the magic of those who feel fear cannot harm me. She fires several more shot, none of which do anything to me except to cause mild annoyance.

“Go,” she tells the colt, “go without me.” The colt looks at her uncertainly. His fear dwindles. I cock my head, unsure of what they plan. Another magic blast moves toward my head. I do not even flinch at the light. When the magic clears in less than a second, I see that the colt is gone, his rags now left on the forest floor.

I see a shadow move on the ground. The colt flies over me quickly. I would have chuckled if I could, even just smiled in approval. I realize now that his wings had been hidden underneath his clothing and that the magic was nothing more than a distraction. I have lost a meal due to a mistake, but I am not sad. I feel nothing but hunger and loneliness, but now the hunger calls me back to the mare.

She smiles at me smugly as if she believes that she has won.

“Do not smile,” I say. Her ears perk up, surprised that I can actually speak. “Do not smile,” I repeat. “For I shall find him. I never lose my prey and I shall not anytime soon.” Her smile disappears momentarily, but returns quickly.

“Just try to find him, monster,” she spits at me. The liquid lands with a splat on me, onto my black form. I move forward onto the now snarling mare. She screams silently as I feed.

I feel hunger no more as I leave the empty husk behind, but I know that I will again all too soon. I look to the skies and see the pegasus colt quite a distance away now and he stares at me with fear in his eyes. I stare back at him and he quickly turns to fly away.

I feel the fear he leaves behind and I begin to follow it. I never lose my prey and I never shall.





I move through my forest. It has been some time since I found my prey. It was as I told the mare, I never lose my prey and I shall never lose my prey. The pegasus colt was easy to track down and easy to take down, and he has filled what hunger I had. But I have since moved on. Once again I am surrounded by the calmness of nature. The birds do not call tonight and, after some time, I begin to wonder why.

I soon find my answer.

I stand at the edge of a clearing that is filled with activity. A ring of small tents fill the area and a roaring fire is at the center of the camp. I count several ponies in the area, all of which are much too old to quench my hunger. There is nothing here for me, so I turn and prepare to take my leave.

Cries fill the air, however, and I whip around. A mare comes out of one of the tents and I see that she carries a small bundle in a saddle bag. She sits by the fire and a stallion moves next to her. He smiles affectionately as the mare takes the bundle out, and it is clear that whatever it is, it is the source of the noise.

The two ponies began to coo and make faces at the loud thing and cries soon turn to laughter. The stallion pulls out a bowl of liquid and starts to spoon feed the bundle, and I am finally able to see the bundle.

Instantly, I am once again stricken by the hunger, for I have not devoured an infant for quite some time. I move forward to attack and take the bundle from the ponies, but stop myself before I can step into the clearing. If I attack now, the ponies will most likely retaliate and take the young prey away from the conflict.

I decide to wait until all is silent in the camp to make my move.

It does not take long for the ponies to tire out, including the infant. Soon all is quiet. The ponies are in their tents, the fire is out, and I move from where I have kept myself hidden. I silently trot toward the tent that the infant was taken into.

I hear some mumbling coming from my left. One of the ponies, a unicorn, has exited their tent, smacking their lips a few times. He turns his head toward me and stares silently before moving on toward my forest. He floats a roll of toilet paper along with a shovel closely behind him with his unicorn magic. Ignoring the idiot, I once again make my way to the tent. I open the tent quickly and quietly.

The two ponies I watched are sleeping and the infant is between the two. I move to take the baby, but feel something smash into the back of my head. I whip around to face the unicorn from before holding the shovel with his magic. 

“Move one muscle and it’s lights out!” he says loudly. The two ponies bolt upward and are quite shocked to see me. The mare grabs the infant and moves toward the back of the tent while the stallion moves to protect them. He flares up a pair of wings that I did not see before, trying to intimidate me. 

I hear more shouting and see light filling the area as ponies surround me, many holding fire-lit torches, varied weapons, or dangerous farming equipment.

“Holy Celestia! What is this thing?!” one of the ponies shout, the light now showing my faceless features. I try to get a good look at the ponies, but I do not have the time to count each one nor tell what kind of pony they are.

“I think the better question is why is it standing at my tent,” the stallion says. The mare has now managed to get out of the tent and stands at the back of the group.

“The infant,” I say quietly. This startles the ponies but they recover.

“I’ve heard of this guy,” another mare quivers. “I heard some ponies talk about him...at the town we were in before we entered the forest.” She pauses to get a good look at me. “A tall, thin, and white pony in a black pressed suit. No face...” she mutters.

The pegasus stallion stands tall and moves toward me. “I don’t care what it is, what does it want?” he asks the mare.

“The infant,” I say again. “I want the infant.” 

The pegasus glares at me. “Why do you want my daughter?!” he shouts at me.

The mare responds before I can. “The stories that the townsfolk told me... they say he takes the young... eats them or something. I thought he was just that; a story, told for no other reason than to scare children or attract tourists.”

“Well, he’s not taking my little pony,” the stallion declares, and the other pony bring up their weapons, holding them by magic or in their mouths. Instinctively I bring up my darkness, something I heard prey say looks like ‘tentacles,’ whatever they were.

I move my appendages around my being just as the ponies charge in. I strike most of them down in only a few swings. Their blood dirties my form, but the attack continues. Through the slaughter, I catch sight of the only two mares I have seen, the mother and the one who spoke, leaving. I take a few steps and am in front of them. It is clear that they’re shocked by how fast I can move while on the hunt.

“Oh no you don’t!” the pegasus yells as he flies over me, trying to slice at me with a knife of some sort. I knock him out of the air and away with an appendage, the mother shouting out a name that I did not hear. The other mare moves to protect the mother and infant, who is now crying at all of the noise I have made.

“No, please!” the mare shouts, “We’ll leave your forest! We’ll leave you alone!” She’s begging now. I stare at her for a moment. I would have taken her offer, normally, but the hunger drives me forward. The mare is silenced and her blood quickly covers me, too. The mother is crying along with her infant now.

Fire rages around us now, most likely birthed from the fallen torch of one of the ponies. Of those who had attempted to harm me, a few still stand, though just barely. I ignore the fire and move my appendage to take the infant, but the mother holds tightly.

She is now crying, but I see bravery in her eyes. She moves forward, causing me to lose my grip, and propels herself into the air after bucking me in the head. She smiles defiantly, but I recover and shoot my appendages into the air faster than she can fly.

I claw at one of her wings. She lets out a cry of pain, but still holds onto my crying prey. She falls to the ground and I move quickly. Before I can take the infant I feel another force pushing me. The pegasus stallion has return, albeit wounded, and is ramming into my side. I barely move under his force, shocking him.

The mare opens her eyes, which must have closed when I struck her, and she screams out the stallion’s name again as he falls to the ground, dead. She tries to move to him, but I stop her.

“All I want is the infant,” I say, “I have never lost my prey and never shall. There is no use in you dying to protect something that will eventually become mine.”

She glares at me once again, a face that I am now beginning to get use to, and mutters, “Obviously you have never been a mother.”

I stare at her glaring face, unsure of what to say to that. After a moment of the two of us simply staring at each other, I decide to simply end it here, instead of continuing in conversation. My appendage moves quickly and more blood splatters onto my form.

I move the now lifeless body over so that I may see the bundle. The infant is wrapped tightly in the dead mare’s hooves, but it takes only a second to pry it from them. I unwrap the infant with an appendage and take it.

The fire is still raging through the camp as I take the infant with me. I do not look back to the ponies that must be watching me as I leave. I have gotten the prey that I waited for, fought for, killed for.





They say that food you’ve worked for tastes all the more sweeter...

I have taken the infant far away from the camp, away from ponies I know would have chased me, hunted me, if I was too close to them. The infant has since stopped its crying. I have calmed with the return of nature’s natural silence. It is very calming, almost soothing.

The sun has now begun to rise as I make my way under a tree. I sit under it and bring the infant close to my face; I want a good look at my new meal. I might be rushing into my meal, but the hunger begins to push me over the edge. I try to calm myself. I want to savor this, want to make this infant fear me as much as possible. I want to remember this, because when is the next time I will be able to feed on a baby? I do not know, so I want to remember this child.

It was a filly, with an orange color pelt, and a small, curly, purple mane. She was a pegasus, something I should have realized when I faced her parents. Her tiny wings buzz slightly, as if taking their first breaths out of the blanket that wrapped her.

The infant, I note, is now sleeping. I shake it gently to awaken it. Prey is always much better if it is awake. The fear is always better, fresher, stronger if they are awake.

The infant’s eyes flutter open. Her eyes are purple like her mane. The small filly gives out a similarly small yawn. Then she takes notice of me.

I have had infants before and they are a rare treat. An infant, although not truly aware of the goods and evils of the world, is still able to tell what is safe based on at least a single of the five sense. And the infants I have taken in the past always knew I was definitely not safe. They instantly knew that they should fear me and fear me they did. The infants always broke into tears or screams when they first saw me, especially if they were conscious to see me destroy their only protection in this world; their home, their family.

This filly, however, merely pokes my head with her hoof and laughs.

She... laughed. She giggled. She chuckled. She chortled. She snorted.She guffawed. She snickered. She rolled in aisles. She laughed. At me. At the living embodiment of fear. This little filly laughed at me.

I do not know what to do to her for this. No one has ever not feared me before. It is fear that I need and so I will make her fear me.

I set the giggling filly onto the ground and, with as much energy I can summon, unleash my appendages around her. They swing and slice through the air, some even cutting through nearby trees as if they were, as the ponies call it, butter.

The infant simply sat there and watch in wonder and amazement. When I brought my appendages back, the area completely destroyed by them, I couldn't help but stare at the filly even more.

I crouched down to her level, something that was a bit harder than I thought because of my unusual height, and get as close to her face as possible without actually touching it. And with one mighty breath, I release a loud, primeval roar upon her. One would think this impossible because I do not have a mouth. Well, I can speak, can’t I?

My roar bellowed past the filly, blowing her purple mane behind her while her wings buzzed through my fearful energy. I did this for less than a minute before stepping back.

The filly took a moment to recuperate before staring at me with wide eyes and I felt a slight wave of fear coming off of her. I think that now, maybe, I will be able to feed on her and quench my hunger.

The filly eye’s water a bit before closing tightly...only for them to snap open and before rapidly closing again as the filly sneezes. Afterwards, she proudly claps her hooves together, laughing even more than I would have liked.

This infant is a strange one. She does not fear me and, thus, I cannot feed upon her. 

I turn away from the babe and begin to trot away. If I cannot feed on her then there is no point in trying to. I am several tail lengths away when small cries begin to echo around me. I turn slowly to see the source, the infant is trying to crawl toward me, trying to follow me.

As if she could not be even stranger...

I turn away from the child and trot away further. Once again, I hear her cries and pleas, but I ignore them. I feel nothing for the it; nothing but hunger. And with nothing more, I leave the filly alone. 

Or at least would have...

There is an animalistic growl behind me. I turn to see that it is a young manticore and take notice that it moves closer to the infant, who turns away from me to watch the predator try to catch its own prey. The infant’s cries intensify and I feel a strong wave of fear.

This child fears a simple animal but not me. I feel what I once felt for the babe’s mother. It gnaws at me, but I ignore it and take another step further. I hear the manticore bring up its claw to end the filly’s life and I feel her fear surround me.

The manticore brings down its claws, intent on killing its prey. Instead of scratching into a young pony, the claw stops several inches away from the infant, who has now stopped her crying to watch. The manticore's claw is wrapped in one of my appendages. The beast tears away at the dark tendril and backs away quickly.

I move between the beast and the filly, my appendages acting as a means of offense. The manticore roars at me defiantly while I simply stand before it, tall and unmoving. My appendages move closer to the manticore. It claws at each one, but with each one destroyed another two fill its place.

Soon I am able to grab hold of the beast and pick it up above the ground. I bring it close to me. It bares its teeth and tries to bite, but it has no power to defeat me. I say nothing, do nothing, and this scares the beast. I can now feel its fear.

I take this chance and feed. It is not the first time I have fed on a manticore and it may not be my last. The beast quenches me. My hunger is, for the most part, now dissipated. I use a tendril to throw the husk into the bushes and prepare to take my leave once more.

Before I am able to take a step, however, I feel something grab my form. I look down and see the infant, clutching onto me with dear life, as if it thinks I will protect it. I use an appendage and bring the infant up to my face.

I stare at the filly, whose eyes are shut tight while tears seep out. Her hooves reach out slightly, trying again to hold onto me. This filly is a strange one indeed. It fears a simple animal, but not the one who killed its family without hesitation...

I set the filly on the ground and watch as it holds tightly onto my legs. I sit down with her, unsure of what to do. I turn my head away from the sobbing filly to look at the spot where I tossed the dead manticore and then in the direction of the camp I attacked. Then back to the filly who was still clenched around my sitting form.

We stayed like this for some time, until the sun rises close its highest point in the sky. Until then the filly has cried and I have stayed. I begin to feel something that I have never felt before. I do not what to call it. It is not hunger or loneliness.

Loneliness...

If anything, this new feeling is the opposite of that. Hunger has the been the only one of the two things I’ve felt that has ever left my being. Loneliness has always stayed with me. Whether I was feeding or hunting or resting, loneliness was always there. It has always been with me, so long that I could almost forget it was there.

But this filly has given me a new feeling, one that is different from loneliness. It is... nice?

My thought’s are broken when the young filly loses her grip. I look down at her and see that she has now fallen asleep, her tears having left a pair of wet trails on her face. Without a second thought I pick up the filly with an appendage and place  her on my back. I leave the clearing then, with the sleeping filly still alive.

Even if I will still feel the hunger, maybe I will no longer feel the loneliness now...
> Chapter 2: It's Actually Here
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I trot through the woods. My woods. My forest. My home. My home is a large one, as it stretches far across the land. Many beings travel the roads that reside within my home, whether they be minotaurs, diamond dogs, griffons, ponies, or just simple animals that I share my territory with.They all travel the roads that reside in my home and, occasionally, they come across me.

Or I come across them.

I am not sure where my most recent encounter stands. One day I am a creature who stalked the night, fed on creatures of any variety, and lived in stories told by those who fear me. Then the next day, I find myself suddenly caring for what was supposed to be my next meal.

The filly remains asleep, though it has been a great many hours since our initial encounter. I can only assume that to feel fear must be tiring. I take a moment to ponder as a I trot. Why had I not simply fed on the infant when presented the chance? Why had I bothered myself by saving this infant? Perhaps most importantly, what is to be done with her? I do not know the answer to any of these questions nor the many more that race through my mind.

Movement on my back causes me to pause. I turn my head and am meet by deep purple eyes. The are wide and stare with no intent, but still I turn away. For the third time today I feel that strange feeling. I am at a loss of words upon how to describe it, other than that it feels... good? I do not know. I know what ‘good’ means, but I don’t seem to understand it. How can I? Everything I know comes from my observance of the world around me and though I have heard my prey speak of ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ I know only what is and what isn't.

When I first came into this world, I was nothing more than the creatures I first hunted; ruthless, mindless, controlled merely by instinct. I did not know self-awareness. I did not know how to speak, how to think.

Everything I can do comes from my experience with my world. I hunted my prey and I heard them speak. I thought nothing of their words for instinct told me to simply feed on them as soon as possible. I was a mindless creature, no better than the animals I now hunt when more suitable prey is unavailable.

It was not until much later, many moons and sun after I came into this word, that I soon began to truly notice the world around me. I learned how to identify separate sounds, sights, objects. I grew and as I did I was able to taste fear. I grew to crave it. It was so very new and different to anything else I knew. It was better than even the chase of any sort of prey. 

Over time my mind also began to develop. Instinct was still there, even now it works with hunger to drive me, but I learned how to control it. I began to think, to rationalize, to understand. I learned how my prey worked and it was from there that I truly began to hunt, to search for the prey that would sustain me most. I even learned to mimic their sounds, their language. 

I learned how to speak, how to understand the spoken language. There are words and phrases I still do not understand, but I know that in time I shall have a full understanding of my prey.

In the past, my primitive mind merely thought of speech as a way to get more fear from my prey, but I soon realized that my newfound ability to speak only worked for so long and that I needed to understand my prey furthermore.

I contained myself from outright attack and instead observed them from a distance. I discovered that my prey required time for rest and quickly turned that knowledge into my favor. Tired prey that realizes it has no way of escape is always more fearful.

I also learned of weakness. My prey was easy to hurt; a small trip on a rock there and they are unable to walk. A small fall and they break a bone. A small cut and they become infected. I am still unable to figure out why I do not suffer from such flaws, but it is not something I truly need to know. I can only conclude that I am a superior being and I so am above such flaws.

Decaying sunlight suddenly struck me as I entered a new clearing. It was surrounded completely by a thick layer of trees, with the only entrance being the small gap I had just slipped through. At the edge stood a large rocky hill, a cave carved into its base. I had entered one of the many natural shelters that reside within my land.

I am a creature that does not need rest, but even I have come to realize that the elements are not something to be fought. It is in places such as this that I reside in should the rain prove too strong, the heat too unbearable, or the forest’s blizzards too harsh.

I look to the darkening skies, it being too soon for the night to come. Dark, ominous clouds move quickly, blocking out the sun of day. I feel the increasing amount of moisture in the air, the cooling of the atmosphere. Weak winds blows against my side. I feel a storm coming, In seconds, the sun is gone, but I move quickly.

I enter the cave with soundlessly and lower myself onto a large bed of leaves. The infant on my back took this time to clamber off of me and proceeded to crawl around the dirt covered floor as if inspecting her new home. After a moment she let out a shrill giggle of what I assume to be approvement. The filly sat at the spot for a moment more with a small smile before letting out a small sneeze. Then her eyes began to glisten.

This may be the first time I have cared for another being, but I have hunted enough infants to recognize crying. The natural sound of all young creatures is a terrible one indeed, their noise always traveling through my home. Of course, the screams did make the hunt for a young prey all the more easy, but that did not excuse the prey from interrupting the natural silence of the world.

My thought’s move back to the teary eyed infant, who has by now moved to rest by my side. She shivers before looking up at me with large, round eyes.

There’s that feeling again.

Thunder suddenly goes off, causing the young filly’s eyes to bulge outward in fright. The fear radiating off of her calls to me. The filly was unable to so much as mewl before my appendages grabbed had a hold of her as fast as they could move, bringing her close to my head. I caught myself just before I consumed her whole.

Thunder sounds off again and I place the filly down onto the ground, close to me as I have seen mothers do before. The filly would be cold as the temperature always drops when the weather changes as it has done now, and until I am unable to start a fire for her, my own body heat must suffice.

I stare out of the cave and take note that I will have to leave soon if I want to make a source of warmth for the night. I turn away from the darkening outside world back to the filly by my side. She has once again fallen asleep, her small wings buzzing slightly and her breathing shallow.

I move silently, careful not to awaken the sleeping filly. I step out of the cave to the cold wind blowing against my form, much stronger than it was before. The gale carries the scent of rain, proving me correct in my assumption. A few droplets begin to slowly fall, prompting me to move faster lest I get caught in the storm.





Sunlight peers through the canopy in small rays, glittering the forest floor in random swirls of yellow. A bird call out from far above the canopy. I hear other birds reply, small scampering, the rustle of bushes and branches, and other woodland noises as I venture away from the cave I had been staying at for some time. 

It is my first venture out in quite a long time. For the past few days, I have been caring for the young filly I have taken. When I decided to take this filly, to care for her, I did not realize what I was doing. Every day, afternoon, and night has been filled with me hunting for the filly. I have never once thought just how much ponies ate let alone their offspring. It rained much more than usual on that first night with the filly. I had, luckily, managed to create a fire for her. However, the moment the heat began to warm her, she awoke and started wailing.

I have lived for centuries. I have learned many things. I have adapted. I have hunted the impossible. I have even begun to feel new emotions that grow less foreign to me. But never before have I experienced such a thing as a wailing filly. Crying fillies, of course I am aware of; whenever I manage to hunt a filly, I always find them because of their cries, but never before have I heard a baby wail.

I have since learned another new emotion, one I do know the word for, as I have heard my prey speak of it often; hate. I hate this new sound. It does nothing for me and yet it seems to do everything for her. When she first wailed, it was obvious that she was hungry by the noise emitting from her lower innards,  a noise I’ve noticed in my prey when they hunger.

I spent much of that night searching for food for her; berries, fruit, herbs, living prey, among other things. In the rain. With my newest emotion, I now know that I hate the rain.

She discarded the prey and allowed them to scurry out of the cave, before I could catch them for myself. She gave the herbs and berries a few licks before displaying obvious distaste for them. She then went onto spend some time just staring at the fruit.

I was not sure why until she stared at me with those large, hungry eyes that gave me that disturbing new feeling that I have yet to name. Eventually I was able to understand why the filly stared at me so. It became obvious when, most likely in annoyance with me, she began to nibble on my form that I noticed that she lacks and sort of teeth or claw. No doubt that she was still being, as the ponies said, weaned

This would make matters quite complicated for the possible future.

In the end, I had to use my own appendages, something about my being that’s meant for hunting or my own protection against some of the stronger beasts of the forest, to help make the fruit edible for the young filly. She fed on the fruit quickly before immediately resuming her sleeping position.

She awoke several hours later, once again due to the thundering skies. 

I left her alone during her wailing, hoping that she would quiet down by herself. Unfortunately, she did not cease from the incessant noise making for some time. Once again, my appendages were put to use at something they were not meant for; rocking the filly asleep. It was during that time that I realized that all the time I spent hunting sentient prey, all the times I managed to hunt an infant, I had also been learning.

I had been learning how to care for another being without even knowing it. And so I put forth my new skills to use. I cared for the filly for days, doing whatever needed to be done. However, I soon realized that by caring for the infant, I would be not be able to care for myself. I would not be able to hunt, to feed. So I decided to wait until the right time to leave.

After several days, the filly finally decided to sleep during the day, leaving me with plenty of time to hunt on my own. The Hunger, something I’ve forced myself to try to ignore these past days, has increased ten fold. I need to hunt and feed. Now.

I catch the scent of something. A deep, musky scent mixed with the smells of the deep earth. It’s a prey I have not had in quite some time, as it’s very hard to hunt when they’re 30 feet underground. I move fast, the hunger driving me towards the prey.

The heat of the day moves through my form as I race through the trees, through the bushes, through the shrubbery and grass, none of them touching my being. My hooves barely touch the ground as I go forth through the hunt. The hunger drives me. It is all I feel within this moment.

I stop behind a tree. I angle my head to look passed and watch as a diamond dog limps away, a broken spear acting as a makeshift cane. This prey is damaged, which makes it an easy hunt and an easy feast.

I move quickly and my appendages move faster. The diamond dog does not know what hits it before it is entangled within my appendages. It tries to claw at my being, its spear is tossed to the ground, and I snap my appendages around it’s wrist, snapping it out of place before it can do any damage. It lets out howls of pain which only makes my hunger intensify in anticipation.

I tighten my grip around my prey’s neck until it stops struggling. Immediately I begin to feed on the diamond dog, its fear more than enough to satisfy me for now. And then it does something I was not expecting; it speaks to me.

“I... cannot die... please... spare me...”

I do nothing except stare quietly at my prey. It begs me to spare its life? This mutt, this food, has the audacity to beg to me, a creature of hunger, for its life? All I seem able to do at this point is to stare at my prey.

It stares back with such large and frightened eyes. The fear continues to radiate off of it, but it was not afraid of me nor was it afraid of its imminent death. It was afraid for something else. Its pack, perhaps? I do not loosen my grip on its neck.

“Please... must... tell... danger... pack...”

Danger? In my land? I loosen my grip, and the diamond dog falls to the ground, gasping for breath. It stares at me, clutching its own throat with tears in its eyes.

“What danger do you speak of?” I question. I will not allow something dangerous within my territory, something which can bring more terror to my prey than I. It must be found and dealt  with accordingly. The diamond dog seems surprised by my question, but does not hesitate to answer.

“It was... a Leo Minor.”

“Foolish,” I insult the diamond dog, “There has been not a single leo minor in these parts for centuries. I should know. I killed the last one.” It was true I had fought the leo minors and won. It was the only way to capture the dominance of the forest and so was necessary.

At the time, I had been unaware of the legend of the leo minors, but over time I came to know it. The Great Leo Major was the father of all manticores. It gave them all life through the Hunt, something even I acknowledge as crucial to life. But in the beginning, the Hunt was not safe for the mighty manticores, as the prey known as Ponies, Diamond Dogs, and the such hunted them for their own protection, and so the Mighty Leo Major created a second race of sons; the Leo Minor. They are the guardians of the Hunt, and thus the guardians of all hunts performed under the skies. The legends explain that should a manticore’s hunt be dishonorably interrupted and taken from them, then justice would be brought forth unto the perpetrator by the leo minors. 

This entire forest was full of leo minors when I arrived, here to protect the Hunt of all hunters within the forest, but once I discovered the bountifulness of the prey, I decided to take it. The leo minors, though guardians of the Hunt, were not quick to allow me to hunt. They believed I was a threat to the Hunt, that I was not a natural being of this world and that I would only damper the Hunt. No, I had to kill them to take these hunting grounds for myself. I slaughtered them all, and eventually the last fell to my power. Never again have I seen a leo minor.

So why a leo minor has appeared now, I do not know.

“Yes, it caught me off guard,” the diamond dog explains, having now recovered from my attack, “but I was not what it was after. It spared me and I must now alert my pack.” The diamond dog moves to its knees and squats in a praying position, its claws clasped shut and its face down, its eyes presumably closed. “Please, I now beg the same from you, Great Hunter. Please, spare my life so that I may warn my pack.”

Spare? Its life? Why would I ever spare the life of any creature? I hunted this prey fairly and I deserve to feed. Should I spare this prey I will be doing exactly what the leo minor represents: the ruin of the hunt. No... no, I will not spare this prey. The hunger drives me forward as quickly as I can move.

My appendages move to the diamond dog’s legs and I lift the creature from the ground easily. It lets out of a squeal of surprise, but keeps its praying position. My appendages tighten around the prey’s legs and move to its neck. The diamond dog lets out squeals of pain as I begin to feed. I smell the fear, I taste the fear, radiating off the prey. Not the fear of me or of dying to me, but the fear of losing its pack... its family. 

An orange coat, purple maned filly rushes through my mind.

The Hunger is strong, but I’m stronger. I place the diamond dog on the ground, where it lies gasping for breath for some time. I turn away from my prey violently, and speak, “Very well, but tell me this; where did you see this leo minor?”

The diamond dog takes its time, trying to absorb what life is around it. After several moments of it gasping for breath, it responds, “It ambushed me to the north of here, near the Mighty Mountains of Celestia.”

I nod my head, still facing away from the diamond dog, my prey. 

“Go,” I command it, “before I change my mind.”

I hear slow, hesitant pawsteps, then the fast limping of my prey, then nothing. And I do nothing for some time. I feel the heat of the sun through the canopy above me. I hear birds that I did not notice go silent during my hunt. Leaves crunch under my hooves as I finally begin to move. I move north, following the diamond dog’s directions.

Mighty Mountains of Celestia? Such trivial names my prey gives to my home. I do not understand the importance of names. I do not even have a name, so how can I?

I continue moving north, toward the mountains...

Northern mountains...

...The cave in which I have been living with the Filly are up north...

I pause in my trotting. The leo minor was last seen near where I have been taking shelter and I did not notice it? Have I been so preoccupied with caring for the filly that I have not been paying attention to my surrounds? This leo minor could have very well been watching us from afar. It could be hunting us. It could be hunting her.

Leo minors are masters of the hunt, being the children of the original leo major. They guard the hunt, guard the hunters of the forest. But should a hunt be interrupted in such a way that they deem dishonorable, then they hunt the perpetrators. I try to remember my long life in the past several weeks, try to find some clue as to why a leo minor would have any reason to hunt me or the filly.

The filly... the night I was to feed on her, a young manticore attacked. I stopped the manticore’s attack prematurely. It retaliated, but I defended the filly. I killed the manticore for trying to hunt something which I hunted and discarded. If I had only fed on the filly after killing the manticore, something which I should had done even before the manticore attack, then maybe there would not be a leo minor here now.

If it was not for my choices to save the filly then this would not be happening.

I rush through the forest, barely touching the ground as I make my way back to the cave. Thoughts race through my head. Animals go silent as I pass them. A strange, familiar aroma fills the forest the closer I get to the cave. It is fear. But fear of what? The fear of loss, the fear of losing something important. It is a fear I have hunted many times.

It is a fear that is radiating off of my form.





I move quickly through my home, toward the cave in which the filly stays with me. I had left her alone, something that gives me another new feeling I’ve never felt. It is very different than the newly discovered Hate I can now feel, and the other feelings that I have yet to identify but have experienced in regards to the filly. I hate this newest feeling and so I do not dwell on it.

I am close to the cave now, not surprising considering the speed I have been moving at. Something catches my eyes and I immediately stop moving. I am several steps from the cave now. There, on the ground... tracks. Old ones and large. Nothing native to the forest could have made tracks such as these. And so close to the cave... this only confirms my suspicions that I have been watched.

I move slowly towards the cave, my own fear radiating off of me in great waves. I trot close enough to peer in. Nothing moves as nothing is in there. Nothing.

Not even the filly.

My newest feeling delves deep within my being, attacking my innards. My own appendages move on instinct and tear at my black form in defense, but it does nothing to stop this feeling. I fall to the ground as this feeling consumes me, unable to lift myself. I do not understand what is happening to me. There is a strange pain throughout me.

The filly is now gone, most likely taken and fed on by the leo minor as vengeance against me. I can understand this. But why do such thoughts wound me in this manner? I think back to the fear I am radiating. Why do I feel fear? I am a being of fear. I feed on fear. I should not feel fear. All I feel, or should feel, is Hunger and Loneliness.

That was before I hunted that accursed filly. Ever since I hunted her and began to care for her, I have been changing. I hate these changes. I hate the feelings I get when I am with the filly. I hate the newest feeling of lost I have. I hate that I can hate. I should not be able to feel hate. I should not be able to feel anything except Hunger and Loneliness.

I remain on the ground for some time within my thoughts. My appendages continue to attack my being, trying to end the attack of all these feelings at once. What is happening to me?

A sudden squeal of delight sounds behind me. I turn my head, the attack of my being coming to a sudden halt. There, outside the cave, she sits happily. The filly, in all her obtrusive orange coat, remains alive just outside the cave. She is unharmed and begins to move toward me. I find myself suddenly able to lift my own being up once more and I begin to move toward her, my form automatically healing itself from my own appendages attack. But I stop when I see that the filly is not alone.

She in turn is stopped by a large, bright red tail. It carries her into the air and releases a cloudy magic around her. The filly, despite her hardest attempts, falls under the spell and into the hands of slumber. I stare in hate as the leo minor taunts me with the filly.

It is large; larger than I remember them being. It is much taller than me, twice the size of an adult manticore. It resembles a manticore, but its pelt is a deep red. It lacks the scorpion tail and wings of a normal manticore, but its signature star covered pelt glistens even the in the dying sunlight of the day.

It gently places the filly on the ground with its tail and proceeds to wait outside the cave. I know what it wants and it knows what I want. I plan on giving it what it wants. With my re-found ability to hold up my own being, I trot slowly out the cave and stand just outside its opening. With a nod of its head, the leo minor links itself to me, as they tend to do.

It tells me what it wishes to say. It says that I have dishonored the Hunt, that I have forsaken the hunt for the filly, prey that I had previously discarded. As such, the filly became prey for a new hunter, a young manticore. But just as the manticore’s hunt was about to finish, I intervened. I killed the manticore unjustly, the leo minor explains, and I took my previously discarded prey, not to feed upon, but to care for.

It tells me that it has been sent to watch me, to see if I am to be tested. It says that it has been watching me for some time and that it is amazed that a hunter such as I have dropped myself to my prey’s level. It says that it is disgusted with me for caring for the filly.

It says that I have been forgiven for taking the forest from the previous dominant hunters, the previous leo minors. It tells me that they were weak and not fit to rule this forest. I am not weak and that is why I was allowed to hunt in these woods, in my home. It says that it is unfortunate that this must be done to a great hunter such as I. It says that now the only way to be forgiven once again is to fight for forgiveness. Or die trying.

I do not understand anything this beast is telling me, except for the fight. I understand that perfectly. I take a defensive pose. The leo minor takes an offensive pose. Neither of us move for some time. So much time passes that the setting sun is just about go beyond the horizons, the twinkling stars start to show.

The sun moves slowly. It finally sets fully and the sky darkens while star shine above us. 

Finally, the beast makes it move. It jumps high into the air, not needing a manticore’s wings to seemingly take flight, and dives for my being. I dash out of the way and my appendages strike out in all directions. The leo minor is fast and dodges my strikes almost with ease. It moves its own long tail like a sword, slashing at me at close range. It slashes upward on my being.

I stagger back. I have been damaged. Wounded. My black pony form blinks in and out of existence, trying to heal, but it does not. I have never been damaged before, never like this. Not even the leo minor I killed were able to damage me like this, and this just happened simply from the leo minor’s tail. I do not let my thoughts slow me down.

My appendages move quicker than before, and I move forward as fast as I can. The manticore steps back, dodging each of my moves effortlessly. How can such a large being be able to move so agilely? The leo minor steps on a small rock and loses its footing. I take the chance and dive forward, my appendages slicing through the air. I manage to successfully hit the minor several times across it’s face and it howls in pain.

It raises one large paw and swipes at me in further response. This close, I am unable to dodge, and I’m swatted away as if I’m nothing. I go flying, spinning in the air several times, and hit the the ground hard. My eyesight goes spinning for a moment. I do not understand this. I have never fought like this. I have never been so weak. My thoughts are interrupted by the leo minor biting on my hind legs, picking me up in it’s massive maw, and swinging me like nothing. It smashes me against the ground several times, until I am once again sent flying. This time I land hard against a tree, snapping its trunk under the force of my landing. I fall into in a pile of broken wood and branches.

In my daze, I look upward to the night sky. The stars glitter in the night sky with no moon in sight. Then I see it. The sky sign of the Mighty Leo Major. It shines brightly in the darkness. The Leo Major’s head seems to be in mid-roar, and it stands proudly on it’s hind legs, as if battling a worthy opponent. Just above it is the sky sign of the leo minor. It sit proudly above its father, shining even brighter, if possible. 

I pick my form up slowly, the damage I have taken extensive. I stare dizzily at the leo minor as it moves slowly toward me. It smiles at my damaged form and sways to the sides, taking turns at my left and right. It is hunting me. Sudden squeals fill our impromptu battle arena and I catch sight of the filly now released from the leo minor’s spells. It does not move, however, as if it is unable to. It cries when it sees me in my current position, but I ignore it for now.

Suddenly I notice something else. I peer back up to the nightsky, to the sky signs. I notice the light beaming off the leo minor sky sign. From my current position, I can clearly see the light of the leo minor sky sign being absorbed by the leo minor’s pelt in front of me. This is why I am damaged as I am now; the leo minor is taking power from the stars themselves. Even now, I see that what damage I have inflicted onto the leo minor is healing as it absorbs the night sky’s light.

If the leo minor draws power from the sky signs above it, then I know what I must do. 

I charge the leo minor as fast as I can, but it swipes a paw at me, sending me back to the demolished tree. I stay down for a moment and my appendages claw of the surrounding ground. One of them clutches a large enough tree branch and I hold it close to me. I suddenly feel the teeth of the leo minor bite into my being. The leo minor effortlessly throws me away once more, this time near the cave. 

I manage to catch myself before I hit the ground. I land sloppily on my hooves and I rush into my cave, still clutching the tree branch. I move as quickly as I can but still feel the leo minor move at a relaxing pace.

It tells me that it is disappointed. It tells me that it expected a better fight from such a strong hunter. It tells me that it will end this swiftly and once I am discarded like the bad prey that I am, it will feed on the filly. I hate this leo minor.

I finally reach the end of the cave. I fall hard against the cave walls, waiting for the leo minor. It smiles at me once more, telling me that it’ll enjoy the filly much more than I ever would. I clutch tightly to the tree branch. The leo minor jumps at me and my appendages move quickly to lift the tree branch.

The leo minor’s eyes bulge as the branch impales it, and it releases a roar of pain. I see it trying to take in more light from the stars, but in my cave the night sky is blocked. Deep red blood covers my being as the leo minor becomes limp on top of me. It glares at me, hate in its eyes. It tries to lift its paws to claw at my being for a final time, but it is unable to so much as lift its tail now.

It tells me that I’m weak. It tells me that I do not deserve to hunt in this forest. It tells me that I am now forgiven once again. And just like that, it is gone. The branch falls to the ground, covered in the leo minor’s red blood, which even now is beginning to dissipate, following the creature’s body to wherever it originated from.

I stay on the cave ground for some time, but after a while I begin to take notice of the cries of an infant, its wais invading the space of the cave. I try to lift my form, but find the damage to be worse than I previously thought. Nevertheless, I carry on. My hooves seem to barely move under me as I struggle out of the cave. My appendages help me to balance and keep me from falling. The going is slow, but I eventually manage to make my way to the filly. 

The leo minor’s spell is gone from the filly, but it still doesn’t seem to be able to move. Once it sees me, however, it begins to crawl towards me, tears in its eyes and sobs in its throat. I make my way toward it also, but my appendages falter and I fall hard against the ground. I cannot move anymore. My form is damaged and broken.

I stay on the ground, waiting for the infant to come closer. I dare not look at it. It is my fault that it was in this predicament. All infants, no matter the age, can feel fear. I know this and I understand it. Does this mean they can also feel hate? Does the filly hate me now for all this? I dare not look at it, in fear that it does. 

Small hooves gently grab hold of my neck. The filly huddles next to my broken form, tears beginning to soak through my black coat. I make no movement. The filly does not hate me. No, instead I can feel fear rushing off of the filly in rivers. The filly was afraid. I fear that the leo minor has left a bigger mark on it than previously thought. 

No, wait... this fear that radiates of the filly. It is not the fear of another creature, it is not the fear of dying. No, this fear is different. This is the fear that comes from losing something important. The filly was not afraid for itself, I discover, but instead was afraid for me. The filly stays holding onto my neck, fear radiating off of it. 

The filly was afraid for me. The filly was afraid for me. The filly was afraid for me. The filly was afraid for me. I feel that unnamed feeling once again, pounding in the center of my form. Why is this filly afraid for me? Why do I still have the feeling that I can not understand?

She clutches tightly to my neck as I rest on the ground. The night sky shines brightly, I notice. The sky sign of leo major is bright in the darkness. Its claws are held high as it stands on its hind legs and it seems to be in mid-roar. It looks like a strong hunter. The leo minor, however, is no longer with it. It had, like my opponent, disappeared for the night, no longer to be seen for quite some time.

I just stare at the night sky as the filly cries on my neck, but after some time, it was able to follow my gaze upwards. It no longer sobbed, nor radiated fear, but instead squealed in approval when it saw the Mighty Leo Major, shining in the night sky. Both the filly and I stayed in that position for a while, both of us admiring the night sky.