Sent to deliver papers to a reclusive deadbeat, a paralegal finds unimaginable trouble.
Alex, a rookie paralegal, is sent to find and deliver papers to a recluse who's abandoned his family to join a misanthrope at his shack, abandoning all his responsibilities.
He finds their lodge, but they're not home. Following a trail in an effort to find his quarry, Alex finds his way into Equestria, where he is captured by force to stand accused of the crimes of others. Unable to communicate, lost, alone, and locked up like an animal, how will he save himself from a fate most terrible and unjust?
The first few chapters run before the character has any interaction with any one pony for long, the true character interactions are yet to come.
Originally I'd intended to write the story of The Poacher's War starting from the beginning chronologically, but in the interest of narrative, I've decided to follow a single character through his viewpoint.
Untamed ground beneath the wheels jostled the whole cab around as I crept my truck through glade and light woods. Fortunately it’d been relatively easy to follow Pete and Dale’s ‘driveway’. Finding it, however, had been a month of frustration and lots of questions... But at least now I’d have answers, and finally I could serve these divorce papers.
Not exactly the life I’d dreamt of when I signed up as a paralegal, tracking deadbeats down miles of dirt roads, through gravel pits and right off the edge of the map, deep into backwoods territory. I was really hoping I wouldn’t find some extremist militia camped out at the end of this trail.
When that run-down old shack came into view, I was so relieved I actually spoke to myself.
“Finally... maybe now I can get back to some nice desk work...” I opened the door on my rental, a Ford truck of some model number I don’t remember off hand, all painted the same faded brown that made it hard to distinguish just how much of the scuffing and discoloration was just that and how much was actual rust. The sparse, ragged holes around the body and in the bed didn’t leave much doubt as to their origin,
The shack was a simple affair. It probably started out as someone’s hunting lodge, one room with a bed and a firepit. It was clear the piecemeal upgrades and repairs far outstripped any remaining original structure there might have been. Knives, hatchets, axes and saws were embedded in a stump of a log next to a pair of logs stood up like stools. They’d had their bark stripped off and were well worn. This is what constituted a ‘finished product’ around here, I was sure of it.
I flipped my cell open. No bars. I’d been out of service in most of the town, let alone the outskirts. At least I knew it was about 12:30 now.
As I walked closer to the shed, my eye caught a tanning rig next to a clutch of rotting carcasses hanging off the far side of the building. I tried not to think much of it and knocked.
“Dale?” I called. The woods offered me a rustling of leaves as reply.
I raised my voice a bit. “Is Dale Rogers here?” Still no response.
I sighed loudly and tried the door. It opened with no resistance, not a handle or even a latch to hold it closed- Naught but a bar to hold it closed against wind from the inside. The place looked pretty abandoned too, dust everywhere, something large and furry scurried away from the firepit as I’d pushed through the door.
An overcooked roast set partially exposed from it’s foil wrapping from under the long dead coals, animals had been eating off of both it and the vegetables packed in.
On a wall hung a well used topographical map of the area. I stared at it a good 15 minutes before I started gaining some of that old scouting training back. I grabbed a pitted, ancient canister of a compass from the wall near the map and oriented myself to the map. I was pretty confident I’d located the cabin, there were lines and crosses all over the map, but one line stood out. A heavily drawn line with a slightly larger ‘x’ at the end, right near a steep cliffside a few miles northwest from here.
I’d been sent to serve this notice directly to him or another suitably entitled person. I guess I’m really earning my per diem today.
--3 Hours later--
I stared at an enormous bramble thicket backed by a huge cliffside as I drew my breaths slowly, calming my heart from the trek. I stare back the way I came, it’d been slow and laborious. My shoes and pants were full of thistle and burrs, thorns had drawn lines all over my exposed hands and face. Nothing bleeding, at least not that I knew, but my clothes... I guess I got a new set of painting clothes, that’s a good way to put it.
The way that map was marked up I’d have guessed there would be stand here, but there was none. Quite by chance I’d approached the thicket near an extremely worn trail, worn as though .things were routinely dragged through it.
It was far too worn for an animal trail. But this bramble clearly backed up to the mountain, what could possibly justify that much use? I glanced up at the sun, squinting as I considered my options. Come back tomorrow or go right now. It wasn’t much of a choice at all, so I pressed on. A quick trip through the bramble and I’d see what was worth so much work.
The bramble was thick, but quite well trimmed with well enough clearance to crawl, at least barely. It was even more clear there’d been a lot dragged through here. Loose soil turned up the whole way, making a little ditch the whole way. I was glad at least the bramble wasn’t doing any more to my clothes. I shuffled on across the hardpacked dirt trench, hands and knees running afoul of the occasional rock uncovered from unnatural erosion. The track turned and twisted, quickly concealing the entrance from any backward glance and so I pressed on. Shards of daylight pierced through at the call of stiff breezes I could hear but no longer feel, but ambient light told me it always remained. At best guess, I'd dragged on more than half an hour when the brush thinned enough to see the sun regularly again.
And then the exit was there. I was baffled by what I saw for there was no cliffside as I'd seen before. The sun remained on my left as it continued to descend, a clear mark I was facing the same direction, so I was sure I hadn't been turned back south again. I stretched my legs one by one and stood slowly from my crawl to take in my surroundings. A small camp, well sheltered by the bramble and a large tree housing one of the two 'beds' laid out before me. A firepit and a set of tin cooking gear graced the center, with olive green army surplus ammo boxes holding down each blanket. The firepit was long since cold, with numerous bones littering it, but I found no roast or food hidden in it this time... why the one at the house had been left like that was strange enough. But that, and other questions were just wasting my time.
They'd been here, I was fairly certain of it.
.There was plenty of daylight left, and I needed to get my bearings. I thought for a while about the map I'd seen, picturing the area around where I was and looking around while checking my compass. Lots of fairly young deciduous trees with fairly little underbrush, and what there was of it was blessedly thornless, save for the wall of bramble I'd exited.
I was fairly confident I had the lay of the land, so I headed out in search of any signs. A fool's waste of time to be sure, I had no indicators of where to go and nothing but faded memories of scouting to go by for orientation and tracking, but I soldiered on.
Stepping clear of the camp, I cupped my hands around my mouth and shouted- "Dale? Dale, can you hear me?"
Again, nature's response was impassive, and I walked.
The woods I walked in now looked so very similar, but so very dissimilar to the ones I'd been in that it got me deep in thought as I walked. Where before there was trees choked upon trees, undergrowth and dead growth going fallow below, each step had been a chore and I'd had to carefully place each one, now it was like a garden. Sure, there was undergrowth, but the dirt felt soft, unpopulated by burrs and thorns and stones... the grass like a carpet where it stood, and the numerous ferns, flowers and other plants were all smooth to the touch, Few plants had any hard, physical defenses at all; I'd been so lost in thought that I'd glanced right past a mauve pony staring at me slack-jawed.
Noticing her, I turned my head back to meet her gaze. This was like nothing I'd seen! Those colors, the enormous, expressive eyes, and the mouth, working rhythmically, almost like she were trying to speak...
I ventured a few words, maybe a soothing tone will prevent the beast from leaving, I wanted to look at her longer.
"Oh he-"
She reared back, whinnying, then snorted and ran out of view. I kept hearing her cries; and quite unlike any horse I've ever heard, she kept neighing and snorting and whinnying all the way..
Curious, I quickly walked toward where she'd gone, hoping to find her once again, mostly I was hoping I could get pictures, or at least prove to myself that I wasn't seeing things.
It wasn't 10 minutes later I happened on a farm right out of Gothic America. Bright red barn, charming farmhouse with a white picket fence, and again I'd lost myself in a stupor of thought just trying to process it. No one lived for dozens of miles from that wall of bramble, at least no one on any kind of census... I'd driven every road in the area, I'd have seen something like this!
And that's when it hit me like a kick to the head-
I had my head pressed against some cool concrete in the local animal control office. Fresh scabbing over the split skin meant it stung a bit too, but the cool concrete was about all I could ask for headache relief. The pony lay on the steel table, bound head, foot, and muzzle, mauve coat, light pink mane and tail, her eyes were closed, but I guessed she was awake as she ejected a sharp breath through her nostrils.
I heard shoes crunching on the dirt I saw all over the floor and looked up to the lab coated tech across from me. This place really is a mess, would it hurt to clean up now and again?
“Did this one get anyone?” Her voice sounded much younger than I’d expected, given her gray... no.. now that I’m looking at it closer that’s clearly platinum blonde hair How did I think she’d sound? She clearly looks about my age.
‘Get anyone’? These aren’t new around here? People had seen them? “No, thank goodness” Something sounded odd about my voice.. it was weak and squeaky. It must have been the exhaustion.. I could sleep right here against this wall...
“Thank goodness for small miracles.” She circled the table, checking the pony’s restraints. “With Cobbler missing and Baby Crawford all... well, you know...”
No, I didn’t know, who were they? “Yeah...” What? “She’s hardly spoken-”
--
My head flared with pain and I shut my eyes tightly, groaning and pressing firmly into the concrete. Red blotches flared into view with each pounding heartbeat, I grit my teeth and draw myself into a tight ball, trying to reach up to massage my temples, but I couldn’t move my hands... they felt like they were asleep.
When had I laid down?
Bright light fought against bunched folds of eyelid.as the pain began to subside, Loose straw shifted and sprung against my side, like I was on a pile of it, my wrists and ankles, tightly bound together, felt raw and irritated, just like my neck. I could feel the rough texture of rope with every movement, each broken fiber poking and prodding my raw skin,
A snort caught my attention and I fought to open my eyes. At first all I saw were blobs against the bright doorway in front of me and the rough texture of granite next to my head. The mauve blob on the left whinnied and reared, backing up a bit, while the light green one on the right stood still as a rock.
Hog tied, noosed to a millstone and left with the horses. One of them was already spooked too. Had I been dreaming? Was I dreaming now? My head hurts too damn much to think about this, I’ve had to keep from spooking them worse or I’d have found out very quickly if this was the dream or not.
I tried to stay as still and quiet as possible, not as easy as you might think when all of your limbs are bound, there’s just no way to silenty stretch out kinks when hogtied, So there I sat, keeping an eye on the two equines as I tried and tried to leave ‘intense discomfort’ behind. I’m not sure it would have been possible.. The more I shifted, the more the Mauve one would fidget, the more kinks I would discover and the more I became keenly aware of sticky, wet, and smelly sensations coming from *ahem* ‘down there’
I spent several minutes like this.. waiting, shifting and waiting more, burning sensations punctuating each move and more details filtering in past the pain clouding my senses. The Mauve one galloped out the door suddenly as I was trying to get a look at how I’d been tied up. The movement drew my attention and I finally noticed what else had been bothering me about the light green one. It had wings.
It must have caught me staring, since right about then it stomped a hoof and snorted loudly, flaring it’s wings wide. It’s an effective intimidation tactic; I turned my eyes to look at something else... like the new figure entering. I heard it knackering, whinnying, neighing and snorting, entirely unlike any horse I’d ever known. I was reminded of the Mauve one running when I’d first seen her.
Still there was no sign of anyone commanding them, no farmer or ranch-hands... And this one was dressed up like it was in Roman lorica barding. There had to be someone close by, how else would it even get that sort of thing, let alone wear it.
“Please! I’ve had enough!” Both the green one and the plated one took a step back and winced as I shouted, “I don’t know what you want with me but it’ll only be worse for you if you wait for the police to find out you’ve got me! Just let me go and I’ll never bother you again! Please, I’m begging you!”
The plated one reasserted itself and snorted forcefully. A light flared from it’s forehead.
More than I had been, I was terrified. I could only imagine this being a nightmare, but it was so vividly real... Who dreams about soiling their pants, for crying out loud! And isn’t pain supposed to wake you? I tapped my head against the millstone, filling my sight with red and my head with stabbing pain once again; weakly I pled my last, “I don’t want.. to die....”
--
My head bumped against the retention clip for the seatbelt.. and I snorted, jolting awake. Ow.....
The steady rumble of the motor was comforting, I was seated in the cab of a box truck with a Highway patrolman. I take a look into the back and spot another two troopers sitting with shotguns, looking over the bound mare. She was breathing steadily, but when you’re tied up with ropes, it doesn’t take long to get real uncomfortable. I rub my wrists absentmindedly. I can barely feel them.
“What do you think it is, Lieutenant?” The trooper in the back called out from his seat
“I don’t rightly have any idea. They showed up like bogeymen one day. Snatchin’ folk up-” The Lieutenant drawls back. His tone says he might normally go on, but instead he cuts short.
The cab rocked heavily as we drove, uneven pavement, probably, and scenery whipped by through the fog. I could smell the cool, water-laden air even through the climate controlling air vents.
Several minutes passed in silence, then I heard the mare snort and two shotguns snap up to focus on her. I’d feel bad if she weren’t just an animal... and a dangerous one according to what I’m hearing. These are just precautions... just precautions...
“Don’t let it point at’cha, Trooper. That’s how it got one before. Poor Ventura didn’t stand a chance, Blush said, it made a boom like nothin’ they’d ever heard and he fell down dead right there in front of Baby Crawford.”
“Then we should kill it before it kin do it ta anyone else, not take it to the capitol!”
“That’s short term thinking, Trooper. It’s obviously intelligent, see how it’s wearing clothes?”
No.. No I didn’t. All but a hairpin but that... wait.... I turned to look at it where it lay. It’s mane and tail had been tousled quite a bit by transport and being dragged about, but the signs of grooming were there.. and then that hair ornament... and a necklace... The light green one had a scarf on too...
The truck jostled strongly and my head slammed back into the seatbelt clip-
--
“Owwwwwwww....”
*SHINK* A cold metal edge met my throat, by chance exactly where the rope had been previously, and held steady as something snorted firmly. I froze. As much as I don’t really want to admit it, when he pulled the spear away a few seconds later I wanted him to put it back there.. it was cold metal... it felt good against my raw skin.
My hands and feet were still bound together ‘here’. but I’d been moved. I could see buildings moving by, great domed towers and spires, all gleaming white and alabaster, as though they were from a fairy tale, a stark contrast to my pained and soiled sorry state.
I was being closely watched by the horse in armor I’d seen before. The horn I hadn’t seen before glowed faintly against the crystal clear blue sky behind it.
A pegasus and a unicorn? There were too many impossible things.going on here.
The vehicle rolled to a stop, and the change in momentum got my head throbbing stronger again, I clenched my eyes shut as I’d done previously. It was moments later I felt myself being picked up. Or rather, it would be more correct to say I felt the vehicle move down and away from me.
It was the strangest sensation I think I’ve ever felt. One time, long ago, I visited a friend, and due to there being no space for sleeping on a bed or couch or floor, I took their giant trampoline. The night was clear, a cool breeze swept through the porous, springy cloth almost like I was laying on nothing at all, but I still clearly felt the cloth then. This was like I’d been truly suspended mid-air. I felt myself spinning very slowly, carrying the last of my momentum from touching the cart.
My sense of wonder would have to be suspended as I was stopped, facing upwards, by the butts of a few of those spears. I was ‘floated’ away without any further ado. I heard more knackering and neighing as I passed along.. Many of their ‘conversations’ only passed with a simple snort. There was a simple, Military efficiency to it
My head was still pounding too hard to process it all. But somewhere along the way I’d come to accept that they must be ‘talking’... or at least their analogue to it. Animals communicate, don’t they, so why can’t these... colorful ponies? I was still confused by how they had armor and weapons... and buildings for that matter..., who had made it all? It all looked in good repair too...
I heard some more ‘conversation’ going on behind me while a key jingled in a lock and a heavy sounding door swung on its hinge.
There was an incredulous sounding snort from behind me, followed by more knackering and neighs.... And the ropes from my hands and feet were tugged around such that all four were facing a unicorn in a lab coat. The ropes rubbed against my skin with each tug. The pain would have been evident on my face as I gritted teeth and screwed my face tight. The pull got stronger, rasping rope fibers against my skin- I couldn’t take it...
“Stop, can’t you see it h- Agh..” I gag a bit on my throat, dry as it is, “-it hurts, whoever you are and however you are just stop! It hurts!”
Another snort, this one long and steady, came from the brown unicorn in the lab coat. The ‘guard’ took his spear and slashed at me...
I winced away, but nothing happened. Another snort, the guard knackered and slammed his hoof down and stared at me where I hung.
Then after a minute of expectant staring he actually put his hoof to his forehead. I was so stunned by the humanity of the gesture I couldn’t respond at all as he took a step closer and slashed again. The ropes fell loose and I was dropped inside a short cell.
The cell was open to all sides but the bottom, thick iron bars ran the height every 6 inches excepting at a slot by the door. The floor of the cell was even and smooth stone, there was a pile of straw in one corner, front left from the door, and opposite it was a hole about 6 inches wide. All sides of it had walkways a full 3 yards wide with 3 foot high barriers about 2 yards distant from the cell, The cell itself was only 4 and a half feet tall, 10 feet wide and 6 feet deep.
After being unceremoniously dropped in, I tried standing... but that wasn’t happening. 4 and a half feet. *sigh*
I heard sloshing from behind me and turned to find a bucket being filled with a hose by the lab coat pony. His eyes never left me, so the water sloshed over the sides and was running down the hole in the corner... It surprised me, watching the water flow it was clear the cell floor had been cut or formed to lead all liquids to that hole.
I heard someone turn off the hose while I was watching the water flow, then turned to the bucket. I didn’t want to think about how long it’d been since I last drank. The water formed a clear bubble where it stretched above the lid of the bucket a tiny bit.. it looked cool and clear... I wanted nothing more but to throw my head in it and drink.. then strip these soiled clothes and clean them and myself... And for all intents I believed that’s what they intended me to do... or at least for me to drink. The lab pony watched steadily from the spigot. I turned to look around the room and noticed the unicorn guard had left.
I swallowed a ragged glob of saliva and mucus. “I guess I have no choice.”
As clean and clear as it looked, I’d love to tell you it tasted sweet like water from a fresh mountain spring. But no.. this water tasted like blood. My blood. Not that I can make that distinction by taste, mind you, but because of the pricking pains inside my mouth along the cheeks and tongue where the water uncovered flesh I’d accidentally bitten.
I drank long and deep as I could, Who knows when I’d be given more. I wondered, as I drew back from the water, if I should use it to clean. I wasn’t guaranteed they’d fill me back up. But for sure, if I couldn’t clean I’d be ridiculously uncomfortable.. and even more... sickness... If this was how I was to be treated.. I needed to take care of myself.
Carefully, I lifted the bucket from where it was and lay it about a yard away from the drain and stripped my shirt off. Blood would be right impossible to get out so I laid it out and dampened it by pouring out some water on it. The lab pony keenly watched. But that’s no different from before. I worked at it some and declared it ‘good enough. It’d never be presentable at the office again.. but it’d do for staying decent.
Speaking of... I glanced back and forth between my pants and the unicorn watching me. I guessed those glowing fields might be ‘theirs’ but I had no way to know... Still, there’s nothing I could do about it. I turned my back on him as I hung the shirt over a bar on top of the cell. Clip clop noises heralded his approach to the other side of the cage. He was more keen on watching than I was keen on not being an exhibitionist.
I slipped my shoes and socks off, wetting and wringing them out in turn and hanging them up.. then pausing to gather momentum... I stripped my lower half in one go. I struggled not to shudder as pieces unstuck from my rump in ways only an infant would tolerate. My front... well, that was just a matter of a rinse since I didn’t have soap. I grabbed a few loose strands of straw and made what use of them as I could... they don’t make good toilet paper at all.
All of this trying to ignore the furious scribbling going on from outside the cage.
I cleaned as best as I could having just water and straw.. but I would have to remain unclothed while everything dried. It wasn’t cold.. at least it didn’t seem that way yet. But I didn’t want to chance a cold... especially going to all this to try to keep sanitary.
I squatted against the bars to do my business down the drain hole, then hunchwalked to sit over in the pile of straw.
It was at this time I noticed those glowing fields pop up around my clothing.
“Hey!” I sprung up... and hit my head square on a cross bar.