The walk towards Muddy Hooves bore no conversation. Xerihan and Ricket had nothing to say about what had happened, and even if they did, they were already absorbed in their own thoughts and worries. It had been a few hours since they left, and already the weight of their new reality was settling in like a crushing wave.
It was in this state of unease and contemplation that Xerihan suddenly heard a cart from behind them. Surprised, he turned around and saw a cart coming over a hill behind them, a lantern lighting up an unusually large pony pulling the cart with two others inside. What the hell…? That’s coming from Trottingham, who could have escaped with all of that chaos?
As the cart approached, both Xerihan and Ricket stared at it intently, too stunned and curious to do much else. Just as the cart passed them, Xerihan caught a glimpse of one of the ponies in the cart - and he was sure the stallion stared right back.
As the cart sped off along the road, Xerihan looked at Ricket incredulously. “Ricket, I think that was Dr. Charred.”
“The crazy SOB that took in our wounded and had a habit of making them ‘disappear’ when they weren’t supposed to? You mean THAT Dr. Charred?”
“Yeah… Looks like he managed to escape the riots in Trottingham…” Xerihan muttered.
“Shit. Well, as long as he doesn’t bother us…” Ricket replied, already shaking off the startling sight.
“Yeah… hey, we should get some rest. Let’s get off the road and into one of the trees, we can probably use a night’s rest.” Xerihan suggested.
“Sounds good.”
He fell. Fell, and fell, and fell. He fell so far that he could no longer see the sun, nor the moon, nor the stars which had condemned him to his fate. He fell until what he was no longer existed, and what he feared became the reality of the world around him.
There was a stab of pain, right between his wings. He managed to turn himself over, to look into the abyss he knew he was sinking into. When he saw it, he screamed wordlessly. Below, was a pink, rotted face, smiling as it opened its maw and devoured Xerihan whole.
Birds chirped. Leaves crinkled and fell as a soft breeze wafted through the trees. The temperature wasn’t too hot, nor too cold - a fine day by any measure. Xerihan flung open his eyes, his chest heaving and claws digging into the bark beneath him. Ricket looked over from his own branch, mutedly observing his friend. He spoke.
“Xeri. Calm down. It was just a dream, mate.”
The assassin breathed deeply for several seconds, slowing his beating heart. He finally smacked his lips and fell limp on the branch. “How… how long have we been sleeping?” he whispered.
Ricket shrugged before he jumped out and glided to the ground. His gear clattered as he landed. “Only for a couple of hours. Dawn was about an hour and a half ago. We have a decent lead in case someone tried to track us down, but it’d be better to stay on the move.”
Xerihan grunted. With effort, he rolled over and fell to the earth below, only opening his wings to soften the landing a couple of meters above the ground. He rolled his wings, feeling his cloak shift. “So… Muddy Hooves. Seems like that’s our only real option at the moment. You have a map?”
Ricket shook his head. “No. I only have a few supplies. My bow and arrows, two knapsacks, some extra clothing… well, you need the knapsack. Catch.” Ricket tossed the brown bag to Xerihan, who neglected to catch it. Rather than risk tearing it up, he instead picked it up carefully with his metal talons.
“Sometimes I think you forget I have daggers for claws, Ricket,” Xerihan clucked. “Do you have gloves?”
“Yeah, here.”
They exchanged the clothing, Xerihan hiding his metal claws with the soft fabric. He grumbled out, “These won’t last long. I need to find something that’s high quality, something that won’t chafe away...”
Ricket shrugged, before hefting his knapsack around his back. “Don’t know what to say, Xeri. We’ll just have to make do for now. You ready to head out?”
Xerihan considered the situation. He slowly rubbed the metal side of his face. “No. Just give me a minute, I’ll be ready soon.”
Xerihan took off his gloves and laid out two shirts he had snatched the night before. He carefully cut them up in dozens of long strips. With care so as not to hurt himself, he wrapped them around his face, covering up the melted mask along with the rest of his features. He tied them up at the back of his head, interlacing them so they wouldn’t move in the slightest. When he finished, only his beak and his eyes were visible. The area around his left eye was marked with little ridges; a close inspection would reveal that something was underneath those rags. But for a cursory inspection, Xerihan would just appear to have a wrappings all over his face.
The only clue that Xerihan might have been a member of the Cult was a sliver of bronze that peeked out from around his left eye. He couldn’t cover it up, not unless he desired to experience life partially blind. So he left it, knowing his hooded cloak would still keep most from seeing his face. He walked back to Ricket, who motioned with his claws to hurry up. “Ready now?”
Xerihan nodded, taking the lead down the road. “Yeah. Let’s move.”
The duo walked the road for hours. Neither complained about their situation, though they both were lost in their own thoughts. For Xerihan, however, his thoughts started to drift into pain. The last time he had taken some Salt had been before his near-execution by the Cult. Now it was midday, and his body ached. In particular, the constant pain in his claws was returning. Using the drug had calmed him and dulled the pain; at the moment, Xerihan could only think of taking the drug to dull how he felt.
It didn’t help that he felt the need to take the drug just as a matter of course. After years of addiction and its familiarity, Xerihan found himself unconsciously reaching for the small pouch on his side.
Ricket cast a sideways glance at his friend, and he grabbed Xerihan’s arm. “Xeri. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Xeri ripped his arm away from Ricket, snarling. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Ricket! I just need a little bit and I’ll be fine!” He reached for the pouch again.
Ricket slapped Xerihan’s claw away from the pouch. “Listen, Xeri! We don’t have access to more Salt, and we don’t have any money! Just taking more isn’t going to help you, not in the long run!”
Xerihan glared at Ricket, debating whether to hit him or not. But after a moment, his friend’s words struck home, and he realized Ricket was right. The assassin looked at the ground, his teeth gritted in frustration and mild horror.
Ricket took the chance and continued. “Besides, what about Pinkie Powder? That stuff links you directly to the Cult, and you’re addicted to the damn thing! If you keep taking Salt, you’re just keeping that link alive longer. Look, Xeri-”
Ricket stopped, thinking carefully about what he would say. He proceeded slowly. “I didn’t have a problem with you taking that shit while we were in the Cult. But we’re on the run now, and that stuff is letting them keep a hold on you. If we’re really going to make a clean break, you have to stop this. Now or never. Because… dammit, the Cult ain’t taking us back. You need to do this.”
Xerihan clutched the bag of precious Salt, and he sighed.
He’s right. It’s a hindrance, it’s a bad link, it’s holding me back. No, even worse - it got me into this situation. The assassin recalled how he had started taking the substance back in his army days, and how it had gotten him kicked out with no claws. He had barely survived that, and it had led him to the Cult. Which is trying to kill me now. Fuck.
Another voice spoke in his head. Don’t do that… just keep it. It can’t hurt, it makes you feel good… look, your claws are bleeding again… It hurts, doesn’t it? Why not use it, make the pain disappear… Ricket will understand…
Xerihan looked back up to Ricket. His friend was staring at him, waiting for his answer. He choked, not sure what to do.
I can’t… I need to stop this. Now.
Nonsense. You can always get more. Sell things if you need to… steal it… murder for it… you know how. You can tell the junkies from the dealers. It would be easy… so, so easy…
Xerihan grunted. No! I’m not doing-
“ARGH!!” he yelled, clutching his head in pain. He gasped for air, trying to come to an answer.
Ricket shook him, trying to grab his attention. “Xerihan! Think! You know what to do. Just do it, before you can take it back!”
Xerihan shook his head. He’s right. Just throw it. Throw it!
Don’t you DARE!
The assassin shot up into the air before chucking the bag of Salt as far as he could. It landed in the forest below, well away from the path. Xerihan gulped, trying to calm down.
Oh god, I’m going cold turkey, I’m going to feel the need, it’s going to hurt, son of a bitch I feel it already, why did I do that, gah!
Oh, you will regret this… just think of all that exquisite pain you’ve inflicted. It’ll be returned to you ten fold, as your mind chews itself up in agony. Oh, just think of the pain…
Xerihan floated back down, hyperventilating as the realization of what he just did caught up to him. Ricket was there immediately. “Hey, hey, you did it, it’s alright now. You made the right choice, Xeri, it’s for your own good. Can you hear me? Xeri, you don’t look good… Come on… Don’t do… have to walk… Xerihan!” Ricket’s voice faded away.
When Xerihan woke up, he was inside a small carriage that was rocking to and fro. He could feel every pulse of blood flowing into his head, driving a new spike of pain there a couple times every second. He groaned, feeling bile in his throat.
“Xeri? You awake?” came a voice.
The cloaked assassin rolled over, and he peeked out at the flap of the carriage. Ricket was there, looking in with concern. Xerihan noted his friend’s gaunt expression. “Ricket? Ugh… My head is killing me… what happened?”
Ricket sighed and sat down. “You passed out. Pretty sure you were having a panic attack at the thought of not having Salt.”
At that, a pang of fear shot through Xerihan’s heart. Oh no…
His expression must have been clear, because Ricket nodded. “Yup. It’s for your own good, Xeri. You’ll be fine, just so long as you take it easy.”
Xerihan’s fear was replaced by anger instantaneously. “Take it easy? Take it easy!? Ricket, we’re on the run, and we’re probably being hunted by the Cul-”
Ricket lunged forward in panic and shut Xerihan’s beak. He spoke in a frenzied whisper. “Xeri, don’t yell that out loud! While you were out, I found a family heading to Muddy Hooves. They agreed to carry you in exchange for some clothes, but they don’t know who we are or what happened in Trottingham! Keep your voice down so we don’t get attacked!”
Xerihan breathed in and out heavily, trying to keep his anger in check. He nodded. Ricket let his beak go. “Okay,” Xerihan murmured. “I’ll keep quiet. Now, where are we?”
Ricket leaned back, pulling out a map. “Well, lucky for us, they lent us a map. We should be about halfway to Muddy Hooves right now. It’s almost dusk, so the family we’re with will likely stop to rest soon. When that happens, we should leave quietly and continue on our way. Quick and easy, and we’ll keep the lead we have on our ‘friends’.”
“Okay,” Xerihan replied softly.
Fifteen minutes later, the carriage did indeed stop. Both gryphons climbed out of the back of the carriage, and walked out to where the pony family they were traveling with were making camp. Xerihan kept his hood low, only revealing his beak. Ricket simply plodded forward, keeping a neutral expression. He whispered carefully, “They heard your name before, so don’t bother coming up with a fake name.”
The family that was gathered was fairly large; three stallions, four mares, and two children. The eldest stallion - an older stallion who looked to be in his sixty’s - beckoned them forward. “So, you’re finally awake, hmm? You and your friend Ricket here were in a dire state when we found you. My name is Flat Iron, and this here is the Iron family. My wife, Lily-” an older mare waved genially - “My two sons, Hot-Weld and Temper-” the other stallions nodded carefully, one with a small frown - “their wives and my daughters-in-law, Feather and Bridgette-” two of the other mares smiled softly - “my daughter, Silver-” the last mare glared at the gryphons non-subtly - “and finally, my grandchildren, Rocky and Gellner,” the two children hid behind their respective mothers’ legs.
Flat Iron paused, holding a hoof out to Xerihan. “So, may I have your name, stranger?”
Xerihan carefully grasped the elder’s hoof, trying not to grip hard enough for his metal talons to be felt through the gloves. “I’m Xerihan. You have my thanks for helping us; I probably wasn’t heading anywhere fast when you found us.” The two parted, Xerihan tugging his hood lower.
Flat Iron regarded him carefully. “You’re very much welcome, and no, I’m afraid you weren’t,” he replied with a half smile. “Now, I heard you’re travellers from up north, and I can tell you this much: it’s a bad time to be wandering Equestria, especially just the two of you. Bandits, cultists, wild animals even. Not to mention the armies that occasionally march through, along with the rumors of alicorns returning. So what could two gryphons like yourselves be doing down here in these troubling times?”
Xerihan and Ricket glanced at each other. “Umm…” Ricket started, before Xerihan calmly replied with, “We’ve been sent as envoys from the gryphon states. Unfortunately, we’ve lost our way. Once we reach Muddy Hooves, I believe we’ll be able to head back north.”
Flat Iron nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked back at his standing family, the gulf between the two parties evident. Flat Iron harrumphed good-naturedly. “Ah, look at me prattle on. Come, let’s start the fire before it gets too late. And please, stay awhile longer. Travellers like us need to stick together in times like this.”
The older pony beckoned them to follow, and so the gryphons did.
While they walked, Flat Iron asked one last question. “So, I noticed you wrapped your face up… I imagine you’ve got something to hide.” His voice wasn’t filled with malice, but the question still riled Xerihan. He decided to reply as calmly as he could.
“In a manner of speaking. Before I was a diplomatic envoy, I was a soldier. My squad was attacked by a manticore at one point, and though we killed it, we lost some good men and my face was scarred. I don’t like to show my face in general - it’s nothing personal.”
Flat Iron grunted. “Of course. Didn’t mean no disrespect, it’s just uncommon to find a fella that won’t show his face, is all. Even for a gryphon.”
Xerihan laughed mirthlessly at that.
You don’t even know the half of it.
That night, the large group ate and made small talk, discussing things as trivial as the weather and as serious as the recent arrival of the alicorns. Hours passed, and one by one the family of ponies retreated into their carriages for the night. Soon enough, only Flat Iron, Temper, Xerihan, and Ricket were still up. As Flat Iron and Temper talked, Ricket waved fro Xerihan to follow him. They retreated away from the dulling campfire, and Ricket whispered to his friend.
“[size=1]Xeri, I think we should get ready to go. I’ll head to a tree to sleep in, and you talk until they head to bed. Meet up with me and we’ll head out. Sound good?[/size]”
Xerihan glanced back at the fire, where Temper and Flat were still discussing something. “Not yet. Ricket, we need money, we need supplies. We’ll do what you suggested, but let’s take some money for ourselves. When you head out, wait for them to head to bed. Then we’ll take what we need and head out.”
Ricket glared at him. “Seriously, Xerihan? After what they’ve done for us, you’d really think of stealing from them? They’re just travellers, for Luna’s sake! We can steal stuff once we reach Muddy Hooves, but let’s leave these poor folk alone.”
Xerihan scoffed. “Don’t act so damn high and mighty, Ricket. We’ve both killed for trivial things, and we’ve both done horrible things under the Cult. I don’t understand why you think we should treat this family should be any different.”
Ricket was about to forcefully respond when Temper called out to them. “Hey, you two done talking over there? We’re about to put out the fire!”
Ricket swore, and Xerihan leaned in. “Just do it, Ricket! I’ll distract them if I need to, but you can't deny we need more supplies. We stay with them, the Cult will catch up and they will die. And they’re well off; they won’t miss a few bits.”
For a moment, Xerihan wasn’t sure what Ricket would do. Finally, his friend relented. “Son of a - fine, I’ll do it! But don’t act like this isn’t underhanded, even for you.” With that, Ricket winged back over and bid the two ponies good night. Xerihan shook his head, looking out into the dark forest. “I’m an assassin, Ricket... I’m always underhanded.”
Flat Iron had gone to bed inside one of the carriages, while Temper had elected to stay out and keep watch. He had fallen asleep, though, and the gryphons took their advantage. Ricket and Xeri quietly pilfered the two carriages, taking random clothing, items, food, and bits.
They stuffed their knapsacks, and were about to head out when Ricket tripped, his bag rattling loudly in the silent night. Xerihan froze, looking for any sign of movement. He put a talon to his beak, signalling for Ricket to be quiet. The ponies in the carriages didn’t stir; they had been asleep for too long. But Temper, who had only recently dozed off, flinched awake.
“Hmohuwhat!?” he mumbled as he blinked away his nap. His eyes focused on Ricket, and then on Xerihan. He saw their filled knapsacks, and how they were both staring at him. It took a moment, but it finally clicked in his brain. “H-Hey! You thieves, stop-”
Without hesitation, Xerihan ripped off his glove and leaped forward. Before Temper could move, his throat was torn apart, his cries dying in a bloody gurgle. Xerihan laid the body down gently, wiping his talons before replacing his glove. Ricket shook with rage, but he was quiet. Like two winged phantoms, they departed the camp and flew down the road.
When they were far away enough, Ricket tugged on Xerihan’s bag and dragged both of them down to the ground. They stumbled as they landed, and Ricket rounded on his friend. “Xeri, what the actual FUCK!? Why did you kill him!?”
Xeri patted down his cloak to scatter the dust. “Because he was about to wake everyone up, and that would have gotten ugly fast. I just did what I had to do.”
His friend simply stared at him, his mouth agape. “Xerihan, what the hell are you talking about!? You could have knocked him out instead of killing him! Actually, we didn’t even need to steal! It’s only because of your insistence we did that, and now there’s a father missing a son, a wife missing a husband, a child missing his father! Do you even care? Xeri!”
Xerihan waved off the his friend’s concerns. “I know what I did, Ricket, you don’t need to lecture me about it.”
That only served to enrage the other gryphon. “Do you? Do you really know what you did? Xerihan, what you did in Trottingham was under orders, so you had to! But now we’re on our own, so you have to accept the fact that no one’s killing people other than you! Not a superior, not a priest!”
He’s right, again… Xerihan thought begrudgingly. He grimaced, sliding his talons together absent-mindedly. I probably would have been able to subdue him… but killing was the easier option… wait. Xerihan’s ear twitched.
“Wait,” he repeated, this time verbally.
“What, Xeri!?” Ricket yelled angrily, wondering why his friend wasn’t answering his question. Xerihan merely shushed him.
“I hear something… someone might be watching. I say we keep moving.”
Ricket snorted in disgust. “Fine. Nicely done, avoiding my question like always.” He started to walk, as Xerihan peered out into the pitch black forest.
There was a faint rustling of leaves as a shadow came to life and moved away from the spectacle. It had been following the family for some time, figuring that they may be of use for its mistress.
Seeing the hooded stranger slice open the throat of one of the family had given him another goal, and that was to follow the two gryphons, one of which was the murderer. He bore no grudge against him, and did not seek to avenge the family. He could always return to them.
The faint rustle of more leaves to his left caught his attention. He looked to the side and met the eyes of a transparent fox. Their eyes locked and, after some time, the shadow nodded.
One of her sentinels. So that’s what they are. Interesting couple. He glided further, not making a single sound as he moved on closer to the two gryphons. He didn’t know their names, but their previous profession was something he had just been told.
Silent as a ghost he followed the two, trailing parallel to them just a few metres away, obscured both by the blessing and his own abilities. He was as good as invisible to them, silent as the grave to boot. The only thing that might give him away were his two, white eyes. No iris, only a white that seemed to shine like the moon itself.
I’d rather I reveal myself than they find me first. He took to the air, rising as if defying gravity rather than flying with wings.
Branches and trunks passed through him, the occasional bat didn’t even notice him as it flew through his body. He would’ve smirked if he could.
A few moments passed before he was right above them, and then dove down.
He landed in front of the two gryphons, appearing as a hovering, pony-like phantom of a dark blue, almost black, colour with pupil-less eyes that shone like the moon. There was no mouth to speak of, and the only thing decorating his body save the eyes were the shadowy mane and tail that flickered like fire, and the horn rising proudly from his head.
“Hello.” His voice was deep and shattered the stillness of the night.
Ricket jumped backward at the sudden appearance of the phantom, drawing his bow quickly and taking aim. “Whoa! Back up, pal!” he snarled, his anger with Xerihan bleeding into his speech.
Xerihan prepared to loosen a glove when he noticed the ethereal appearance of this pony. He racked his brain for what he could be, when he remembered a briefing he had seen once. A Nightmare, Xerihan realized. Judging by this pony’s appearance, the assassin wouldn’t be able to lay a claw on him - though by the same token, Xerihan wouldn’t be harmed either.
“Ricket, put that down. You can’t hurt him, and he can’t hurt us. Now, what do you want? We’re two very busy travellers, and I’d like to reach Muddy Hooves before dawn,” he spoke crisply, wary of the sudden appearance of a Moon and Star Nightmare.
“Not busy enough for a detour to kill some innocents?” There was a certain amount of mirth in the way he spoke, as if he didn’t seem to really care all that much. Either that, or he just wanted to poke fun at them. “And you should listen to your friend. If I wanted to, you’d both be dead right now, so put the bendy-play-stick down, if you will.” A chuckle escaped him, and this one was definitely one of mirth.
Ricket put the bow down reluctantly, distrust and sheer frustration still showing on his face. Xerihan lowered his head further, so the Nightmare wouldn’t be able to see his face. “You didn’t answer my question. And how I spend my time is none of your concern. So I ask again: what do you want, Nightmare?”
“What do I want? Oh ho ho ho… Nope! Wrong question!” He suddenly seemed to fall through the earth, only for his upper body to appear from the gryphon’s chest and look him right in the eyes. Even without a mouth, it was easy for the gryphon to see his smile, a smile that spoke of his secret not being so easily hidden from such a close proximity. “The question is, what do you want? Why are two former assassin’s of the Cult killing a random stranger - one that helped him to boot - when he could’ve just knocked him out, or without taking out the others and converting them into play dolls?” He flew out of the gryphons chest and returned to his previous position in front of them, hovering a good ten centimetres above the ground.
“You want something that isn’t the same as what the Cult wants, right?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
Ricket spoke before Xerihan could reply. “We never said we were Cultists, freak. What makes you sure-”
“Calm down Ricket,” Xerihan sighed. “He obviously knows. And to answer you, it was more efficient to simply kill him, and because that’s not my goal. Frankly, subversion has never been my goal.”
Xerihan smacked his lips. “You already seem to have us figured out. Try this on for size: the Cult wants to kill us. Guess how we feel about that.”
The Nightmare raised a hoof and tapped his chin with it. Or rather, he tried, as it went right through his chaw. He scowled at it as best he could in his current form. “Bah!”
Returning his attention to the two cultists he spoke in a calm and measured way. “You don’t want to join the hundreds of other puppets you’ve been responsible for, I take it?” His eyes narrowed, making his already scary face something out of a literal nightmare; an angry spirit that had its anger focused on you. “You want to flee,” he circled around them, stopping to speak only when he could look them in the eyes up close. “You don’t want to die and join your victims, whether what they became was your intention or not.”
“You cherish life. You fear death.”
“Tell me…” He stopped and his glare bore through the night and held Xerihan’s gaze, whether he wanted to or not. “Do you want to stay safe?
Xerihan held the gaze, wondering what this Nightmare was going on about. “...You’re following something other than Moon and Star, aren’t you? You’re by yourself, in the middle of the woods at night, deep in Stormwing territory. Talking to two former cultists, whom the Inquisition hates, if I recall correctly, and you’re asking something like you’re recruiting us.”
The corner of Xerihan’s beak twitched upward. “Of course I want to stay safe. But that depends on what you’re offering.”
“Xeri… I don’t like this…” Ricket muttered, keeping an eye on the hovering Nightmare.
It took but a split second, but the Nightmare moved from Xerihan to the other gryphon. “Does it surprise you?” he asked with an undertone of mischievousness and held back mirth. “Do you know what they call your most deep-rooted fears? The ones that only come forth in the dark of night? They are called what I am; a Nightmare.” He chuckled. “I don’t expect you to like me, I expect you to listen.”
He jumped back to where he was before, in front of the duo, and spoke again. “You are both right and wrong. I am not just any Nightmare, but I am still devoted only to the Moon Goddess. I do, however, work with one of the newly arrived gods. Perhaps you have heard of Theá Erímo? The Huntress?” He hovered closer. “Seek her out, swear fealty and beg for her her forgiveness and blessing. She will let you hide, she will protect you.” He glanced to the left. “Come dawn there should be a group of deer two hours travel that way. Hunt down and take the hide from one and bring it to her, offer it as proof of you being worthy hunters, but do not let the animal’s death be in vain. That is not the cycle of life and death that is the essence of the wild.”
Xerihan looked the same way the Nightmare had pointed, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That’ll take us further away from Muddy Hooves… we’d be lucky to keep our advantage…” he muttered to himself. He looked back at the floating phantom. “I’ll consider it. But what if I’m not interested? I’d hope you wouldn’t tell her to come looking our way just to spite us,” he finished with bemusement.
The nightmare looked at them with an almost incredulous stare. “Pfft! Really? You really think I’d do something like that?” He chuckled. “You know as well as I do that allying with her is your best chance of getting out of this mess alive. She loathes the Cult like nothing else. You two don’t seem like much other than a couple of murderers, and hunters in some way - you certainly do sneak around - so I don’t think she would put an arrow through your heart at sight.”
“Regardless. The Cult knows of her, and they know that they’d need an entire army in the hopes of putting her down. The last thing they would expect you to do is to ally with one that seemingly murders their kind on sight. Am I right or am I right? Furthermore, her blessing will allow you to stay hidden much better than anyone else. If you wanted to hide or sneak away, there’s little chance you would be find what with your abilities and her blessing.”
Xerihan frowned. “You’re making it sound like she’d protect me from the Cult. This god can’t be everywhere at once, try as she might, and more than likely I’ll eventually be overtaken by the Cult. Why would I risk incurring her wrath when I’ve done nothing to garner her favor?” He waited for an answer. Then he snorted, shaking his head.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. How would I offer up the carcass of a deer up in tribute anyway, if I were so inclined to do so?”
“First of all. She despises the perversion of life and death that the cult undertakes. You’re merely the Cult’s pawns; their killers. The biggest crime you’ve committed in her eyes is to kill while allied with the Cult. Gaining her favour will be difficult, but it will save your life.”
“Secondly. You don’t offer the carcass, but the hide. Eat the meat or offer it up to another carnivore, but don’t let it lie. If you don’t want to carry it, then at least take the heart, consume what it was and skin it. The hide will be proof that you are hunters, and it will only make it easier for you.”
“And thirdly.” He paused. “The hunter will never become the hunted. Join her and you will be a hunter. And before you say anything, you were but pawns before, now you are refugees. Join her, and the Cult will never again be at your heels.”
Xerihan skeptically raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Ricket. His fellow gryphon simply shrugged, unsure of what to say. The assassin simply turned to face the Nightmare again.
“Okay. I’ll consider it. Now, will you leave us alone?” Xerihan asked.
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” A spectral hare hopped in from the tree line. It looked like a hare would normally do, but they could see through it. “These sentinels,” the Nightmare began, motioning at the hare with a hoof, “will lead you to her. You have but ask them and they will show you in which direction to go.”
He hovered backwards and a little up. “As for leaving you alone... that depends.” He smiled and then seemingly vanished into the shadows.
Xerihan glared at where the Nightmare had vanished.
“Charming,” Ricket deadpanned next to him. “Think he’ll actually leave?”
Xerihan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But I think I’ll take the chance to get on one of these alicorn’s good sides, if only for my own sake. Celestia knows I’ve pissed one off already.”
With little else to go on, they trudged through the woods like the Nightmare had suggested, hoping they’d find their prey soon enough.
It was in this state of unease and contemplation that Xerihan suddenly heard a cart from behind them. Surprised, he turned around and saw a cart coming over a hill behind them, a lantern lighting up an unusually large pony pulling the cart with two others inside. What the hell…? That’s coming from Trottingham, who could have escaped with all of that chaos?
As the cart approached, both Xerihan and Ricket stared at it intently, too stunned and curious to do much else. Just as the cart passed them, Xerihan caught a glimpse of one of the ponies in the cart - and he was sure the stallion stared right back.
As the cart sped off along the road, Xerihan looked at Ricket incredulously. “Ricket, I think that was Dr. Charred.”
“The crazy SOB that took in our wounded and had a habit of making them ‘disappear’ when they weren’t supposed to? You mean THAT Dr. Charred?”
“Yeah… Looks like he managed to escape the riots in Trottingham…” Xerihan muttered.
“Shit. Well, as long as he doesn’t bother us…” Ricket replied, already shaking off the startling sight.
“Yeah… hey, we should get some rest. Let’s get off the road and into one of the trees, we can probably use a night’s rest.” Xerihan suggested.
“Sounds good.”
He fell. Fell, and fell, and fell. He fell so far that he could no longer see the sun, nor the moon, nor the stars which had condemned him to his fate. He fell until what he was no longer existed, and what he feared became the reality of the world around him.
There was a stab of pain, right between his wings. He managed to turn himself over, to look into the abyss he knew he was sinking into. When he saw it, he screamed wordlessly. Below, was a pink, rotted face, smiling as it opened its maw and devoured Xerihan whole.
Birds chirped. Leaves crinkled and fell as a soft breeze wafted through the trees. The temperature wasn’t too hot, nor too cold - a fine day by any measure. Xerihan flung open his eyes, his chest heaving and claws digging into the bark beneath him. Ricket looked over from his own branch, mutedly observing his friend. He spoke.
“Xeri. Calm down. It was just a dream, mate.”
The assassin breathed deeply for several seconds, slowing his beating heart. He finally smacked his lips and fell limp on the branch. “How… how long have we been sleeping?” he whispered.
Ricket shrugged before he jumped out and glided to the ground. His gear clattered as he landed. “Only for a couple of hours. Dawn was about an hour and a half ago. We have a decent lead in case someone tried to track us down, but it’d be better to stay on the move.”
Xerihan grunted. With effort, he rolled over and fell to the earth below, only opening his wings to soften the landing a couple of meters above the ground. He rolled his wings, feeling his cloak shift. “So… Muddy Hooves. Seems like that’s our only real option at the moment. You have a map?”
Ricket shook his head. “No. I only have a few supplies. My bow and arrows, two knapsacks, some extra clothing… well, you need the knapsack. Catch.” Ricket tossed the brown bag to Xerihan, who neglected to catch it. Rather than risk tearing it up, he instead picked it up carefully with his metal talons.
“Sometimes I think you forget I have daggers for claws, Ricket,” Xerihan clucked. “Do you have gloves?”
“Yeah, here.”
They exchanged the clothing, Xerihan hiding his metal claws with the soft fabric. He grumbled out, “These won’t last long. I need to find something that’s high quality, something that won’t chafe away...”
Ricket shrugged, before hefting his knapsack around his back. “Don’t know what to say, Xeri. We’ll just have to make do for now. You ready to head out?”
Xerihan considered the situation. He slowly rubbed the metal side of his face. “No. Just give me a minute, I’ll be ready soon.”
Xerihan took off his gloves and laid out two shirts he had snatched the night before. He carefully cut them up in dozens of long strips. With care so as not to hurt himself, he wrapped them around his face, covering up the melted mask along with the rest of his features. He tied them up at the back of his head, interlacing them so they wouldn’t move in the slightest. When he finished, only his beak and his eyes were visible. The area around his left eye was marked with little ridges; a close inspection would reveal that something was underneath those rags. But for a cursory inspection, Xerihan would just appear to have a wrappings all over his face.
The only clue that Xerihan might have been a member of the Cult was a sliver of bronze that peeked out from around his left eye. He couldn’t cover it up, not unless he desired to experience life partially blind. So he left it, knowing his hooded cloak would still keep most from seeing his face. He walked back to Ricket, who motioned with his claws to hurry up. “Ready now?”
Xerihan nodded, taking the lead down the road. “Yeah. Let’s move.”
The duo walked the road for hours. Neither complained about their situation, though they both were lost in their own thoughts. For Xerihan, however, his thoughts started to drift into pain. The last time he had taken some Salt had been before his near-execution by the Cult. Now it was midday, and his body ached. In particular, the constant pain in his claws was returning. Using the drug had calmed him and dulled the pain; at the moment, Xerihan could only think of taking the drug to dull how he felt.
It didn’t help that he felt the need to take the drug just as a matter of course. After years of addiction and its familiarity, Xerihan found himself unconsciously reaching for the small pouch on his side.
Ricket cast a sideways glance at his friend, and he grabbed Xerihan’s arm. “Xeri. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Xeri ripped his arm away from Ricket, snarling. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Ricket! I just need a little bit and I’ll be fine!” He reached for the pouch again.
Ricket slapped Xerihan’s claw away from the pouch. “Listen, Xeri! We don’t have access to more Salt, and we don’t have any money! Just taking more isn’t going to help you, not in the long run!”
Xerihan glared at Ricket, debating whether to hit him or not. But after a moment, his friend’s words struck home, and he realized Ricket was right. The assassin looked at the ground, his teeth gritted in frustration and mild horror.
Ricket took the chance and continued. “Besides, what about Pinkie Powder? That stuff links you directly to the Cult, and you’re addicted to the damn thing! If you keep taking Salt, you’re just keeping that link alive longer. Look, Xeri-”
Ricket stopped, thinking carefully about what he would say. He proceeded slowly. “I didn’t have a problem with you taking that shit while we were in the Cult. But we’re on the run now, and that stuff is letting them keep a hold on you. If we’re really going to make a clean break, you have to stop this. Now or never. Because… dammit, the Cult ain’t taking us back. You need to do this.”
Xerihan clutched the bag of precious Salt, and he sighed.
He’s right. It’s a hindrance, it’s a bad link, it’s holding me back. No, even worse - it got me into this situation. The assassin recalled how he had started taking the substance back in his army days, and how it had gotten him kicked out with no claws. He had barely survived that, and it had led him to the Cult. Which is trying to kill me now. Fuck.
Another voice spoke in his head. Don’t do that… just keep it. It can’t hurt, it makes you feel good… look, your claws are bleeding again… It hurts, doesn’t it? Why not use it, make the pain disappear… Ricket will understand…
Xerihan looked back up to Ricket. His friend was staring at him, waiting for his answer. He choked, not sure what to do.
I can’t… I need to stop this. Now.
Nonsense. You can always get more. Sell things if you need to… steal it… murder for it… you know how. You can tell the junkies from the dealers. It would be easy… so, so easy…
Xerihan grunted. No! I’m not doing-
“ARGH!!” he yelled, clutching his head in pain. He gasped for air, trying to come to an answer.
Ricket shook him, trying to grab his attention. “Xerihan! Think! You know what to do. Just do it, before you can take it back!”
Xerihan shook his head. He’s right. Just throw it. Throw it!
Don’t you DARE!
The assassin shot up into the air before chucking the bag of Salt as far as he could. It landed in the forest below, well away from the path. Xerihan gulped, trying to calm down.
Oh god, I’m going cold turkey, I’m going to feel the need, it’s going to hurt, son of a bitch I feel it already, why did I do that, gah!
Oh, you will regret this… just think of all that exquisite pain you’ve inflicted. It’ll be returned to you ten fold, as your mind chews itself up in agony. Oh, just think of the pain…
Xerihan floated back down, hyperventilating as the realization of what he just did caught up to him. Ricket was there immediately. “Hey, hey, you did it, it’s alright now. You made the right choice, Xeri, it’s for your own good. Can you hear me? Xeri, you don’t look good… Come on… Don’t do… have to walk… Xerihan!” Ricket’s voice faded away.
When Xerihan woke up, he was inside a small carriage that was rocking to and fro. He could feel every pulse of blood flowing into his head, driving a new spike of pain there a couple times every second. He groaned, feeling bile in his throat.
“Xeri? You awake?” came a voice.
The cloaked assassin rolled over, and he peeked out at the flap of the carriage. Ricket was there, looking in with concern. Xerihan noted his friend’s gaunt expression. “Ricket? Ugh… My head is killing me… what happened?”
Ricket sighed and sat down. “You passed out. Pretty sure you were having a panic attack at the thought of not having Salt.”
At that, a pang of fear shot through Xerihan’s heart. Oh no…
His expression must have been clear, because Ricket nodded. “Yup. It’s for your own good, Xeri. You’ll be fine, just so long as you take it easy.”
Xerihan’s fear was replaced by anger instantaneously. “Take it easy? Take it easy!? Ricket, we’re on the run, and we’re probably being hunted by the Cul-”
Ricket lunged forward in panic and shut Xerihan’s beak. He spoke in a frenzied whisper. “Xeri, don’t yell that out loud! While you were out, I found a family heading to Muddy Hooves. They agreed to carry you in exchange for some clothes, but they don’t know who we are or what happened in Trottingham! Keep your voice down so we don’t get attacked!”
Xerihan breathed in and out heavily, trying to keep his anger in check. He nodded. Ricket let his beak go. “Okay,” Xerihan murmured. “I’ll keep quiet. Now, where are we?”
Ricket leaned back, pulling out a map. “Well, lucky for us, they lent us a map. We should be about halfway to Muddy Hooves right now. It’s almost dusk, so the family we’re with will likely stop to rest soon. When that happens, we should leave quietly and continue on our way. Quick and easy, and we’ll keep the lead we have on our ‘friends’.”
“Okay,” Xerihan replied softly.
Fifteen minutes later, the carriage did indeed stop. Both gryphons climbed out of the back of the carriage, and walked out to where the pony family they were traveling with were making camp. Xerihan kept his hood low, only revealing his beak. Ricket simply plodded forward, keeping a neutral expression. He whispered carefully, “They heard your name before, so don’t bother coming up with a fake name.”
The family that was gathered was fairly large; three stallions, four mares, and two children. The eldest stallion - an older stallion who looked to be in his sixty’s - beckoned them forward. “So, you’re finally awake, hmm? You and your friend Ricket here were in a dire state when we found you. My name is Flat Iron, and this here is the Iron family. My wife, Lily-” an older mare waved genially - “My two sons, Hot-Weld and Temper-” the other stallions nodded carefully, one with a small frown - “their wives and my daughters-in-law, Feather and Bridgette-” two of the other mares smiled softly - “my daughter, Silver-” the last mare glared at the gryphons non-subtly - “and finally, my grandchildren, Rocky and Gellner,” the two children hid behind their respective mothers’ legs.
Flat Iron paused, holding a hoof out to Xerihan. “So, may I have your name, stranger?”
Xerihan carefully grasped the elder’s hoof, trying not to grip hard enough for his metal talons to be felt through the gloves. “I’m Xerihan. You have my thanks for helping us; I probably wasn’t heading anywhere fast when you found us.” The two parted, Xerihan tugging his hood lower.
Flat Iron regarded him carefully. “You’re very much welcome, and no, I’m afraid you weren’t,” he replied with a half smile. “Now, I heard you’re travellers from up north, and I can tell you this much: it’s a bad time to be wandering Equestria, especially just the two of you. Bandits, cultists, wild animals even. Not to mention the armies that occasionally march through, along with the rumors of alicorns returning. So what could two gryphons like yourselves be doing down here in these troubling times?”
Xerihan and Ricket glanced at each other. “Umm…” Ricket started, before Xerihan calmly replied with, “We’ve been sent as envoys from the gryphon states. Unfortunately, we’ve lost our way. Once we reach Muddy Hooves, I believe we’ll be able to head back north.”
Flat Iron nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked back at his standing family, the gulf between the two parties evident. Flat Iron harrumphed good-naturedly. “Ah, look at me prattle on. Come, let’s start the fire before it gets too late. And please, stay awhile longer. Travellers like us need to stick together in times like this.”
The older pony beckoned them to follow, and so the gryphons did.
While they walked, Flat Iron asked one last question. “So, I noticed you wrapped your face up… I imagine you’ve got something to hide.” His voice wasn’t filled with malice, but the question still riled Xerihan. He decided to reply as calmly as he could.
“In a manner of speaking. Before I was a diplomatic envoy, I was a soldier. My squad was attacked by a manticore at one point, and though we killed it, we lost some good men and my face was scarred. I don’t like to show my face in general - it’s nothing personal.”
Flat Iron grunted. “Of course. Didn’t mean no disrespect, it’s just uncommon to find a fella that won’t show his face, is all. Even for a gryphon.”
Xerihan laughed mirthlessly at that.
You don’t even know the half of it.
That night, the large group ate and made small talk, discussing things as trivial as the weather and as serious as the recent arrival of the alicorns. Hours passed, and one by one the family of ponies retreated into their carriages for the night. Soon enough, only Flat Iron, Temper, Xerihan, and Ricket were still up. As Flat Iron and Temper talked, Ricket waved fro Xerihan to follow him. They retreated away from the dulling campfire, and Ricket whispered to his friend.
“[size=1]Xeri, I think we should get ready to go. I’ll head to a tree to sleep in, and you talk until they head to bed. Meet up with me and we’ll head out. Sound good?[/size]”
Xerihan glanced back at the fire, where Temper and Flat were still discussing something. “Not yet. Ricket, we need money, we need supplies. We’ll do what you suggested, but let’s take some money for ourselves. When you head out, wait for them to head to bed. Then we’ll take what we need and head out.”
Ricket glared at him. “Seriously, Xerihan? After what they’ve done for us, you’d really think of stealing from them? They’re just travellers, for Luna’s sake! We can steal stuff once we reach Muddy Hooves, but let’s leave these poor folk alone.”
Xerihan scoffed. “Don’t act so damn high and mighty, Ricket. We’ve both killed for trivial things, and we’ve both done horrible things under the Cult. I don’t understand why you think we should treat this family should be any different.”
Ricket was about to forcefully respond when Temper called out to them. “Hey, you two done talking over there? We’re about to put out the fire!”
Ricket swore, and Xerihan leaned in. “Just do it, Ricket! I’ll distract them if I need to, but you can't deny we need more supplies. We stay with them, the Cult will catch up and they will die. And they’re well off; they won’t miss a few bits.”
For a moment, Xerihan wasn’t sure what Ricket would do. Finally, his friend relented. “Son of a - fine, I’ll do it! But don’t act like this isn’t underhanded, even for you.” With that, Ricket winged back over and bid the two ponies good night. Xerihan shook his head, looking out into the dark forest. “I’m an assassin, Ricket... I’m always underhanded.”
Flat Iron had gone to bed inside one of the carriages, while Temper had elected to stay out and keep watch. He had fallen asleep, though, and the gryphons took their advantage. Ricket and Xeri quietly pilfered the two carriages, taking random clothing, items, food, and bits.
They stuffed their knapsacks, and were about to head out when Ricket tripped, his bag rattling loudly in the silent night. Xerihan froze, looking for any sign of movement. He put a talon to his beak, signalling for Ricket to be quiet. The ponies in the carriages didn’t stir; they had been asleep for too long. But Temper, who had only recently dozed off, flinched awake.
“Hmohuwhat!?” he mumbled as he blinked away his nap. His eyes focused on Ricket, and then on Xerihan. He saw their filled knapsacks, and how they were both staring at him. It took a moment, but it finally clicked in his brain. “H-Hey! You thieves, stop-”
Without hesitation, Xerihan ripped off his glove and leaped forward. Before Temper could move, his throat was torn apart, his cries dying in a bloody gurgle. Xerihan laid the body down gently, wiping his talons before replacing his glove. Ricket shook with rage, but he was quiet. Like two winged phantoms, they departed the camp and flew down the road.
When they were far away enough, Ricket tugged on Xerihan’s bag and dragged both of them down to the ground. They stumbled as they landed, and Ricket rounded on his friend. “Xeri, what the actual FUCK!? Why did you kill him!?”
Xeri patted down his cloak to scatter the dust. “Because he was about to wake everyone up, and that would have gotten ugly fast. I just did what I had to do.”
His friend simply stared at him, his mouth agape. “Xerihan, what the hell are you talking about!? You could have knocked him out instead of killing him! Actually, we didn’t even need to steal! It’s only because of your insistence we did that, and now there’s a father missing a son, a wife missing a husband, a child missing his father! Do you even care? Xeri!”
Xerihan waved off the his friend’s concerns. “I know what I did, Ricket, you don’t need to lecture me about it.”
That only served to enrage the other gryphon. “Do you? Do you really know what you did? Xerihan, what you did in Trottingham was under orders, so you had to! But now we’re on our own, so you have to accept the fact that no one’s killing people other than you! Not a superior, not a priest!”
He’s right, again… Xerihan thought begrudgingly. He grimaced, sliding his talons together absent-mindedly. I probably would have been able to subdue him… but killing was the easier option… wait. Xerihan’s ear twitched.
“Wait,” he repeated, this time verbally.
“What, Xeri!?” Ricket yelled angrily, wondering why his friend wasn’t answering his question. Xerihan merely shushed him.
“I hear something… someone might be watching. I say we keep moving.”
Ricket snorted in disgust. “Fine. Nicely done, avoiding my question like always.” He started to walk, as Xerihan peered out into the pitch black forest.
There was a faint rustling of leaves as a shadow came to life and moved away from the spectacle. It had been following the family for some time, figuring that they may be of use for its mistress.
Seeing the hooded stranger slice open the throat of one of the family had given him another goal, and that was to follow the two gryphons, one of which was the murderer. He bore no grudge against him, and did not seek to avenge the family. He could always return to them.
The faint rustle of more leaves to his left caught his attention. He looked to the side and met the eyes of a transparent fox. Their eyes locked and, after some time, the shadow nodded.
One of her sentinels. So that’s what they are. Interesting couple. He glided further, not making a single sound as he moved on closer to the two gryphons. He didn’t know their names, but their previous profession was something he had just been told.
Silent as a ghost he followed the two, trailing parallel to them just a few metres away, obscured both by the blessing and his own abilities. He was as good as invisible to them, silent as the grave to boot. The only thing that might give him away were his two, white eyes. No iris, only a white that seemed to shine like the moon itself.
I’d rather I reveal myself than they find me first. He took to the air, rising as if defying gravity rather than flying with wings.
Branches and trunks passed through him, the occasional bat didn’t even notice him as it flew through his body. He would’ve smirked if he could.
A few moments passed before he was right above them, and then dove down.
He landed in front of the two gryphons, appearing as a hovering, pony-like phantom of a dark blue, almost black, colour with pupil-less eyes that shone like the moon. There was no mouth to speak of, and the only thing decorating his body save the eyes were the shadowy mane and tail that flickered like fire, and the horn rising proudly from his head.
“Hello.” His voice was deep and shattered the stillness of the night.
Ricket jumped backward at the sudden appearance of the phantom, drawing his bow quickly and taking aim. “Whoa! Back up, pal!” he snarled, his anger with Xerihan bleeding into his speech.
Xerihan prepared to loosen a glove when he noticed the ethereal appearance of this pony. He racked his brain for what he could be, when he remembered a briefing he had seen once. A Nightmare, Xerihan realized. Judging by this pony’s appearance, the assassin wouldn’t be able to lay a claw on him - though by the same token, Xerihan wouldn’t be harmed either.
“Ricket, put that down. You can’t hurt him, and he can’t hurt us. Now, what do you want? We’re two very busy travellers, and I’d like to reach Muddy Hooves before dawn,” he spoke crisply, wary of the sudden appearance of a Moon and Star Nightmare.
“Not busy enough for a detour to kill some innocents?” There was a certain amount of mirth in the way he spoke, as if he didn’t seem to really care all that much. Either that, or he just wanted to poke fun at them. “And you should listen to your friend. If I wanted to, you’d both be dead right now, so put the bendy-play-stick down, if you will.” A chuckle escaped him, and this one was definitely one of mirth.
Ricket put the bow down reluctantly, distrust and sheer frustration still showing on his face. Xerihan lowered his head further, so the Nightmare wouldn’t be able to see his face. “You didn’t answer my question. And how I spend my time is none of your concern. So I ask again: what do you want, Nightmare?”
“What do I want? Oh ho ho ho… Nope! Wrong question!” He suddenly seemed to fall through the earth, only for his upper body to appear from the gryphon’s chest and look him right in the eyes. Even without a mouth, it was easy for the gryphon to see his smile, a smile that spoke of his secret not being so easily hidden from such a close proximity. “The question is, what do you want? Why are two former assassin’s of the Cult killing a random stranger - one that helped him to boot - when he could’ve just knocked him out, or without taking out the others and converting them into play dolls?” He flew out of the gryphons chest and returned to his previous position in front of them, hovering a good ten centimetres above the ground.
“You want something that isn’t the same as what the Cult wants, right?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
Ricket spoke before Xerihan could reply. “We never said we were Cultists, freak. What makes you sure-”
“Calm down Ricket,” Xerihan sighed. “He obviously knows. And to answer you, it was more efficient to simply kill him, and because that’s not my goal. Frankly, subversion has never been my goal.”
Xerihan smacked his lips. “You already seem to have us figured out. Try this on for size: the Cult wants to kill us. Guess how we feel about that.”
The Nightmare raised a hoof and tapped his chin with it. Or rather, he tried, as it went right through his chaw. He scowled at it as best he could in his current form. “Bah!”
Returning his attention to the two cultists he spoke in a calm and measured way. “You don’t want to join the hundreds of other puppets you’ve been responsible for, I take it?” His eyes narrowed, making his already scary face something out of a literal nightmare; an angry spirit that had its anger focused on you. “You want to flee,” he circled around them, stopping to speak only when he could look them in the eyes up close. “You don’t want to die and join your victims, whether what they became was your intention or not.”
“You cherish life. You fear death.”
“Tell me…” He stopped and his glare bore through the night and held Xerihan’s gaze, whether he wanted to or not. “Do you want to stay safe?
Xerihan held the gaze, wondering what this Nightmare was going on about. “...You’re following something other than Moon and Star, aren’t you? You’re by yourself, in the middle of the woods at night, deep in Stormwing territory. Talking to two former cultists, whom the Inquisition hates, if I recall correctly, and you’re asking something like you’re recruiting us.”
The corner of Xerihan’s beak twitched upward. “Of course I want to stay safe. But that depends on what you’re offering.”
“Xeri… I don’t like this…” Ricket muttered, keeping an eye on the hovering Nightmare.
It took but a split second, but the Nightmare moved from Xerihan to the other gryphon. “Does it surprise you?” he asked with an undertone of mischievousness and held back mirth. “Do you know what they call your most deep-rooted fears? The ones that only come forth in the dark of night? They are called what I am; a Nightmare.” He chuckled. “I don’t expect you to like me, I expect you to listen.”
He jumped back to where he was before, in front of the duo, and spoke again. “You are both right and wrong. I am not just any Nightmare, but I am still devoted only to the Moon Goddess. I do, however, work with one of the newly arrived gods. Perhaps you have heard of Theá Erímo? The Huntress?” He hovered closer. “Seek her out, swear fealty and beg for her her forgiveness and blessing. She will let you hide, she will protect you.” He glanced to the left. “Come dawn there should be a group of deer two hours travel that way. Hunt down and take the hide from one and bring it to her, offer it as proof of you being worthy hunters, but do not let the animal’s death be in vain. That is not the cycle of life and death that is the essence of the wild.”
Xerihan looked the same way the Nightmare had pointed, and his eyebrows furrowed. “That’ll take us further away from Muddy Hooves… we’d be lucky to keep our advantage…” he muttered to himself. He looked back at the floating phantom. “I’ll consider it. But what if I’m not interested? I’d hope you wouldn’t tell her to come looking our way just to spite us,” he finished with bemusement.
The nightmare looked at them with an almost incredulous stare. “Pfft! Really? You really think I’d do something like that?” He chuckled. “You know as well as I do that allying with her is your best chance of getting out of this mess alive. She loathes the Cult like nothing else. You two don’t seem like much other than a couple of murderers, and hunters in some way - you certainly do sneak around - so I don’t think she would put an arrow through your heart at sight.”
“Regardless. The Cult knows of her, and they know that they’d need an entire army in the hopes of putting her down. The last thing they would expect you to do is to ally with one that seemingly murders their kind on sight. Am I right or am I right? Furthermore, her blessing will allow you to stay hidden much better than anyone else. If you wanted to hide or sneak away, there’s little chance you would be find what with your abilities and her blessing.”
Xerihan frowned. “You’re making it sound like she’d protect me from the Cult. This god can’t be everywhere at once, try as she might, and more than likely I’ll eventually be overtaken by the Cult. Why would I risk incurring her wrath when I’ve done nothing to garner her favor?” He waited for an answer. Then he snorted, shaking his head.
“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. How would I offer up the carcass of a deer up in tribute anyway, if I were so inclined to do so?”
“First of all. She despises the perversion of life and death that the cult undertakes. You’re merely the Cult’s pawns; their killers. The biggest crime you’ve committed in her eyes is to kill while allied with the Cult. Gaining her favour will be difficult, but it will save your life.”
“Secondly. You don’t offer the carcass, but the hide. Eat the meat or offer it up to another carnivore, but don’t let it lie. If you don’t want to carry it, then at least take the heart, consume what it was and skin it. The hide will be proof that you are hunters, and it will only make it easier for you.”
“And thirdly.” He paused. “The hunter will never become the hunted. Join her and you will be a hunter. And before you say anything, you were but pawns before, now you are refugees. Join her, and the Cult will never again be at your heels.”
Xerihan skeptically raised an eyebrow, and glanced at Ricket. His fellow gryphon simply shrugged, unsure of what to say. The assassin simply turned to face the Nightmare again.
“Okay. I’ll consider it. Now, will you leave us alone?” Xerihan asked.
“Perhaps, perhaps not.” A spectral hare hopped in from the tree line. It looked like a hare would normally do, but they could see through it. “These sentinels,” the Nightmare began, motioning at the hare with a hoof, “will lead you to her. You have but ask them and they will show you in which direction to go.”
He hovered backwards and a little up. “As for leaving you alone... that depends.” He smiled and then seemingly vanished into the shadows.
Xerihan glared at where the Nightmare had vanished.
“Charming,” Ricket deadpanned next to him. “Think he’ll actually leave?”
Xerihan shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. But I think I’ll take the chance to get on one of these alicorn’s good sides, if only for my own sake. Celestia knows I’ve pissed one off already.”
With little else to go on, they trudged through the woods like the Nightmare had suggested, hoping they’d find their prey soon enough.
