//------------------------------// // 10 - Cold Pursuit // Story: Death Valley // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// Bitterroot bolted from the library, sending papers everywhere in her wake, beating her wings to get her faster. She didn’t know why somepony would be in their room at the inn, but that didn’t matter. It couldn’t be anything good, anyway. She blew out the front door of the town hall and sped across the square to the Watering Cave, reckless in the dark. Amanita was saying something in her ear, so she plucked the earpiece out and pocketed it. Concentration. When she reached the door, she spread her wings wide to let them yank her to a halt, then carefully nudged the door open. The common room was empty. Not even Cabin was behind the bar. With no crowd din to cover her sounds up, Bitterroot nearly said something uncouth. She delicately trod across the floor, keeping her steps as light as possible. Her ears were pricked for any sounds of movement. Nothing except vague rustles upstairs. Paper? They could be looking through the teams’ notes. Bitterroot would bet money that Amanita had brought along notes on some necromantic spell or another. If she was found out… Bitterroot sped up as much as she dared. She reached the stairs with no problem and carefully moved on up. Thankfully, her furs blunted the worst of the hoof-on-wood impact muffling the clip-clop that could’ve been there otherwi- One of the steps creaked. Bitterroot froze, mentally cursing herself. She’d known about that step, she’d heard it several times as she went up and down, why did she need to forget about it right then? But maybe the robber hadn’t heard it. It wasn’t a loud sound. Bitterroot craned her ears, listening for any activity that might be panic on the robber’s part, but she heard nothing. Even the sounds of paper had stopped. Discarding all attempts at stealth, Bitterroot scrambled up the steps just in time to hear something crash on the other side of the door. She slammed into it hard, but it didn’t budge. Again; nothing, blocked. There were frenzied hooffalls and the high-pitched hum of cast magic as the thief sped up their- Window. She’d seen them through the window. She could get through the window. Bitterroot shoved off the door and very nearly flew back down to the common room and out the entrance. Still no one, at least that she could see. The window up above was open; a quick flap took her up. The lights were on, but nopony was home. Bitterroot swore; they must’ve gotten the same idea just before her and she missed them in the dark, maybe by just a few seconds. But how far could a unicorn get in those few seconds? She dropped back down. Hoofprints? No dice; the area was heavily trafficked and the prints of the crowd blended together. Bitterroot turned around, squinting in the dark, wishing she’d protected her night vision. No obvious dark shapes, nobody in the lamps. Maybe they’d gone behind. Bitterroot jinked around the corner, into the narrow roads behind the inn- Jackpot. A cloaked pony with a tall hood was walking away from the building, not too far away. Bitterroot sped up to reach them- and quickly slowed down. Up close, she could see they had wings, dark red ones. Pegasus. Although… Bitterroot quickly sped up again and tapped them on the shoulder. “Hey!” she said. “Hey, can I talk to you?” The pony turned around. Stallion. He was big up close, almost a head taller than Bitterroot, appearing even taller by his pointy hood. It was hard to make his face out in the dim light, but his fur was gray. He looked down at Bitterroot, wordless. “Have you seen anypony in the last few seconds?” she asked quickly. “Unicorn, came running around here, maybe carrying something-” The pegasus shook his head and turned back around, continuing on his way. Bitterroot cursed and looked around him. No one. She spun, looked back around- A-ha. Not far away, Bitterroot espied another pony, trotting down the road away from the Cave. A pony with a horn. Praying it was the right pony, Bitterroot flap-trotted after them, using her wings to land softly and her hooves to push herself forward. It was slower than she’d’ve liked, but it kept the noise down. But before she could catch up, the pony jinked to one side, ducking into the animal attack bunker in the hill. Bitterroot quit the quiet to propel herself right up to the doorway, where she looked down the steps. The light gems inside were glowing fitfully and the pony was nowhere to be seen. Into the dim, unground bunker. Great. If only she’d explored more when she’d been inside yesterday; she’d stayed in the first room, not looking for any sort of layout or alternate exit. But if somepony was trying to sabotage them, she needed to find out who. Stilling her wings and keeping her hoofsteps light, Bitterroot entered the bunker. “Oh, Celestia, THERE’S SOMEONE IN OUR ROOM.” Those words made Amanita’s blood run cold. She had notes on necromancy in there and if they got out- It was only for a moment, but it felt like her body locked up for ages. Canterlot hadn’t been the greatest once she’d revealed herself to be a necromancer, and she had Princess Twilight’s approval there. Out here, on her own, being forced out… But at some point, she decided she’d worry about it later, because she was galloping for Charcoal. “I’m getting Code and Charcoal,” she said. “Stay safe.” Stay safe? What kind of a reassurance was that? Once she was just spitting out and hoping it was true. Charcoal still hadn’t moved. She looked up as Amanita approached; Amanita cut her off with, “Bitterroot says there’s someone in our room.” Charcoal was slow to reorient. Blinking at Amanita, she asked, “What do you-” “Someone’s breaking into our room and looking through our stuff!” hissed Amanita. “I don’t know if they want to steal anything or- Do you know where Code is?” “No.” Charcoal promptly threw back her head and yelled, “Code! Get over here!” The sound bounced up and down the valley, magnified by its own echoes. Down in Midwich Forest, birds were startled from their branches. Okay. Maybe… that would work. Charcoal was up, pacing a circle in the snow. Amanita nearly joined her; she didn’t know what to do, and if- Code came galloping from the dark and kicked up a wave of snow as she slid to a stop. “What happened?” she asked quickly. “Bitterroot said she saw somepony in our room and-” “Follow me,” Code said, and began sprinting back towards town. Amanita and Charcoal followed her immediately, somehow only barely managing to keep up in spite of Code’s short height. “Amanita, you still have that earpiece, right?” “…Yeah!” Amanita said breathlessly. “Bitterroot! Bitterroot, are you there?” Silence on the other. “Bitterroot! What’s going on?” Nothing. “She’s not responding,” Amanita said. “She could’ve just taken the earpiece off,” said Code. “Don’t worry too much yet.” By the time they reached the Watering Cave, Amanita’s heart was protesting and Charcoal was breathing heavily. Code seemed to notice, because she said, “Wait here. I’ll see if they’re still inside.” And in she went. Amanita’s heart wasn’t protesting so much that she couldn’t still be alert. Even just not running anymore made her aches start to subside. Amanita looked up at the window. Somepony might come out that way to escape Code. A hasty glance around showed nopony near. Not Bitterroot, not anyone suspicious. Code came trotting back out. “Door’s locked, didn’t see Bitterroot,” she said quickly. She fixed her eyes on the window above. She crouched, wiggled her rump like a cat, and propelled herself straight up, where she hooked her hooves around the sill. A look inside, a curse, and she dropped back down. “Nopony’s in there and somepony moved a bed to block the door,” she said. She nudged up her glasses to wipe down her face. “Okay. Possible thief, pony MIA. But she was a bounty hunter, maybe she’s chasing the perp. Amanita, can you think of a reason why Bitterroot would remove her earpiece?” “Focus,” Amanita said. “If she ever gets it in her head to do something, she tries to avoid all distractions.” “Hmm.” Code tapped her chin. “Plausible. Did she only mention one pony?” “It sounded like that, but I can’t be sure.” “Alright. Do the two of you feel up to searching the town?” Did she? Amanita flexed her legs as Code added, “You don’t need to be hasty about it. Simply ask if anyone’s seen Bitterroot.” “I think I can do that, yeah,” said Amanita. Walking, she could handle just fine. “Me, too,” said Charcoal, a touch breathlessly. “Even though-” She stretched her back and groaned. “I need to hit the treadmill more. I’m an environmental mage, why can’t I sprint?” “Hmm.” Code looked up at the window again and frowned. “No way to see if anybody comes back while we’re gone, though-” “Hang on.” Amanita rooted through the snow and found a small, slim branch. “You said the door was blocked, right? Close the window and put this on the top. If someone opens the window again, the branch will get knocked off.” Circe had used similar methods of easily-disturbed details as a magic-free way to see if her bags had been disturbed by bandits. Or Amanita. “Good enough for now.” Code jumped back up to close the window and place the branch. “You two, see what you can find on the south side of town. I’ll look in the north. Sound good?” “I’m fine with that,” said Amanita. Charcoal nodded her assent. “Check back here in… whatever you think is half an hour,” said Code. “This isn’t a large town, Bitterroot couldn’t’ve gone far.” She galloped southward, into the dark. “So, uh…” Charcoal said to Amanita, “how, how do we look for her?” “No idea,” said Amanita. “Bitterroot’s the bounty hunter, she’s usually the one finding ponies.” And she could fly, to boot. What if she’d taken off and was chasing someone to the northern exit of the valley? “Ramble around and ask any pony we run into?” “Sounds good to me.” “…By Rain, I wish I was kidding.” “So do I.” It didn’t matter how small a town was, you could get lost in it if you made enough of an effort to turn at every intersection. Tratonmane wasn’t large, but after a few turns, Amanita suspected she would’ve been completely lost in its dim streets if not for the walls to orient herself. It was like Tratonmane was larger than it appeared. Not that the small size helped much. Every pony she and Charcoal passed had the same answer for her. “I ain’t seen ’er,” said the earth pony. The response came quick and sharp, just like all the others. “Are you sure?” Amanita asked, more out of desperation than anything else. “We could really-” “Certain sure,” the other snapped. “Y’ken, I dinnae faith you’uns can solve our problems if’n ye cannae solve yer own. Up-headed Canterlouts, every last one o’ ye.” Taking one last glance at Charcoal, she turned around, flicked her tail in Amanita’s face, and stomped off. “A simple ‘no’ would’ve been just vine!” Charcoal yelled after her. “I mean, really, why?” she whispered to Amanita. “I mean, it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence,” Amanita said. “One of our ponies just disappearing like that. We’re supposed to be the ones fixing the problem, not making more.” “But still…” “Do you know how long it’s been?” Amanita asked, quickly changing the subject. “Twenty minutes, give or take,” Charcoal mumbled. “Ten more minutes of this…” Yeah. Great. A cliff loomed before them; they’d gone south enough to reach the slab that the railroad ended on. The houses were a bit sparser, a few of them even sporting chicken runs, and ponies were less common. Amanita wondered if it was worth finding the road to head on up. Bitterroot wouldn’t have needed it, so- “Amanita?” Bitterroot’s voice suddenly sounded. “You still wearing this?” Amanita twitched and felt her legs tense up. “Bitterroot?” she asked hopefully. “Where’ve you been?” Charcoal immediately snapped to look at her, ears forward. “I’m fine,” Bitterroot said. “I just-” A cough. “I followed the thief into that bunker I told you about, and… I don’t know how, but I lost them. They just vanished.” The bunker? What were they doing in the bunker? Whatever. Bitterroot was safe. “Can you meet us back at the inn?” Amanita asked. “We’ve been looking for you.” Looking at Charcoal, she pointed at her earpiece, grinned, and nodded. Charcoal grinned back. “Sure. See you soon. Out.” Bitterroot paced around the Cave’s common room, her wings twitching restlessly. She lost ponies she was tracking, every now and then. It was part of being a bounty hunter. She’d learned to live with her mistakes. But there was usually some sort of factor. Her quarry had slipped into a crowd. They’d been faster than her. They knew the streets better. She’d misjudged the footprints. Something. This? She’d seen the thief head into the bunker — the empty bunker with just a few rooms — and, somehow, hadn’t been able to track them. They might as well have teleported out. It left her feeling mighty peeved. The common room was still empty. She didn’t know if Cabin was in the back and she didn’t feel like looking. She didn’t need to know who was here. She just needed to see Amanita and Code and Charcoal and all of them again so that- She looked up as the door opened. Amanita and Charcoal walked in; Amanita let out a sigh as she saw Bitterroot. “Oh, thank Celestia,” she breathed. “I called you on the- communication thing and when you didn’t respond-” “I took it off,” admitted Bitterroot. “I didn’t want any distractions.” “Eh.” Amanita shrugged. “Fair enough. Code should be back in…” Her voice trailed off and she looked up. “Five to ten minutes, probably,” said Charcoal. She flicked her tail in annoyance. “I’m gonna deck- check on our gear. Maybe it got damaged.” She ducked inside the storage area. Bitterroot stalked over to a table, took a seat, and started examining the wood grain ferociously. Amanita sat down across from her. “Are you… feeling alright?” Amanita asked. “I’m-” Bitterroot coughed. “I’m fine. Just got a bit of a sore throat.” “That’s not what I meant.” “I just feel stupid for somehow missing the thief,” Bitterroot said. “It’s my job to catch runaways, so if I can’t do my job, what am I?” She blew a quick raspberry. “It’ll pass. Don’t worry about me. …What about you?” “What do you mean, ‘what about me’?” “When you were down by the trees, it sounded like-” Amanita’s face drooped back, but she managed a grin. “Heh. You noticed?” “You don’t exactly have the best poker face.” “Heh. Short version: I was struggling with magic and Charcoal’s a better teacher than Code for this. It’s… I think I’m better now.” “You think?” “Somepony broke into my room before I could be sure.” Charcoal exited the storage area and groaned, stretching her neck. “I don’t think that room was built with kirins in mind,” she said. “The ceiling got in the way of my horn. But all the crates’re there and it didn’t loose- look like any of them had been opened. That’s something.” The front door opened again, letting Code in. “I swear,” she huffed to herself, kicking snow from her hooves, “the nerve of some-” “Bitterroot’s back,” said Amanita. Code’s head snapped up to see Bitterroot. “Well,” she said. “Good. What happened? Start from the beginning.” Bitterroot laid out what there was to lay out. It didn’t take very long. By the time she was done, Code was pawing at the ground. “Very strange,” she muttered. “Well, you’re here, so let’s see the damage.” “I can get in through the window to unlock the door for you,” Bitterroot said, standing up. “Shouldn’t take a second.” “Check to see if there’s a branch on top of the window,” said Amanita. “We left it there so it’d fall if the thief came back and opened the window to get back in.” “Sure.” Out, around, through, and soon Bitterroot had pushed aside a bed blocking the entrance and unlocked the door. “The branch was still there and the glass wasn’t broken,” she said as the others filed in. “I don’t think the window was touched.” Not much else in the room was touched, either. Some papers had been placed on another bed and were scattered around the room, but other than some bags thrown about, the place was surprisingly neat. Everyone started checking their bags in case they were missing something. It was funny. She hadn’t been harmed and it wasn’t even her home that had been broken into, but Bitterroot still felt violated. It was like, this was the place she was supposed to feel safe, but someone had come into it and rooted through her possessions anyway. It wasn’t even the possible danger; she’d slept in more dangerous places while on the hunt. But if you settled down in a Northern forest, you expected things to be dangerous. Not here. Not this one place. And the fact that nothing was missing from her bags did little to help her feelings. “Hey, uh, Bitterroot?” asked Amanita. “You said it was a unicorn, right?” “They had to be, they had a horn. I saw it glow,” said Bitterroot. “Why?” “Well… Because…” And Amanita held up several large dark red feathers. Bitterroot blinked. Those weren’t- “Let me see,” she said, darting up for a closer look, hoping it wasn’t true. But there was no mistaking it. A knot formed in her stomach as she said, “These are from that pegasus I mentioned.” She’d assumed the thief was solo. Why had she assumed that? Because she’d only seen the one. And yet, that one pegasus, just happening to be right there, right then? Uninvolved. Sure. She’d been talking to one of the perps right then, and just let him slip away, unimpeded. Stupid. Yet Code seemed pleased. “Dark red wings, gray head, you said?” she asked. “Not exactly an easy coloration to hide. Pegasi with wings colored differently from their body are few and far between… Did you catch anything of the unicorn’s appearance?” “Just that they were a unicorn,” Bitterroot replied. But, really, why should she have just assumed they were partners? She’d had no proof, then, not even a gut instinct. And when she was chasing down a perp, she usually had done some research to track them down, not suddenly jumping into action based on seeing something. “So we have a place to start once we’re done here,” said Code. “I’m not missing anything. Anybody else?” “Nope,” said Bitterroot. She could’ve handled the situation better. But not with the information she’d had then. “Not me,” Charcoal said. She still had her head buried in one of her bags. “Sort of,” said Amanita. “These papers-” She’d gathered up the sheets that had been lying around. “They were looking through some of my spell notes- not the necromantic ones!” she added quickly. “Not those. But other than that, I’m not missing anything. Not even any other notes.” She looked at the papers again and frowned. “Okay, I guess they’re sort of necromantic, but not really… Dispelling zombies and freeing thralls… Anyway, I did bring some necromantic notes, but they’re in a journal, still locked. We’re okay.” “So…” Code began pacing. “They didn’t ransack the place… Didn’t even steal anything… Just looked at Amanita’s notes. Notes that are more anti-necromancy than necromancy. I know they probably ran before they could get anything, but… what did they want? …Pfeh. Pegasus, dark red wings, gray head. Let’s spread the word.” “If anyone knows someone like that in Tratonmane,” said Charcoal, “it’ll be Tallbush. We should see if we can find him first.” “Tallbush? Why him?” “Well, y’know, since he’s the Duke of Midwich.” Silence. Amanita and Code stared at her. “He’s… the duke?” asked Code. Charcoal’s ears twitched and she shied back. “We… didn’t tell them, did we?” she asked Bitterroot in a quiet voice. “…Huh. No, we didn’t.” “A duke,” muttered Code. “Out here. Celestia must’ve been desperate.” She shook her head. “Okay. We find Tallbush, ask if he knows anypony. After that… we’ll figure it out.” “Since he’s the duke, he might be at the town hall,” said Bitterroot. “It’s right across the square, come on.” When they reached the common room, it had one pony in it: Cabin, chopping some carrots. Bitterroot was halfway across, ignoring her, before wheeling about to face her. “Someone broke into your inn,” she said. Cabin’s knife froze and she raised her head. “Pardon?” she asked. “I saw a pony in our room,” said Bitterroot. “And I think they had an accomplice. A gray pegasus with red wings.” Cabin flicked an ear. “I dinnae ken arypony like that,” she grunted. “Sure enough didnae see arypony out o’ the usual.” Bitterroot leaned forward a little. “You’re sure?” “I’m tellin’ you’uns, I didn’t see nopony.” “Right.” Bitterroot glanced at Cabin’s horn. “Yeah. But keep an eye out.” Cabin grunted in affirmation. After giving her one last look, Bitterroot led the others out of the inn. When they reached the hall, Code had absolutely none of the restraint Bitterroot had had, nearly kicking down the doors to enter. “Tallbush!” she hollered authoritatively. “Are you there?” No response. Code muttered something uncouth. “And we’ll go traipsing across this town again… And if he comes back and we miss him-” “I could wait here,” Bitterroot volunteered. “I haven’t finished all the death certificates yet and it’s too dark for flight to be much of a help in looking for him.” And that wasn’t an excuse. She really wanted to polish off that pile. “I’ll take a look around once I’m done.” “Sounds good,” grunted Code. “You two, same deal. You look in the north-” “I’d be fine with spitting- splitting up,” Charcoal said. “If, if Amanita’s okay with.” “Sure. No one’s missing and we’ll cover more ground.” Code rattled off her words like a machine. “Fine. Me, north. Charcoal, southeast. Amanita, southwest. Good? Good. Let’s go. The sooner we find Tallbush, the sooner we can get this done.” And she stomped northward. Once Amanita and Charcoal were gone, Bitterroot pulled herself back to the library. Her sudden exit had scattered death certificates everywhere, but thankfully, the ones she’d already covered were still in their folders. Still, she spent a good five minutes rooting around the room, making sure she didn’t miss any certificates. And once she was done with that, right back to it. With an ear angled towards the main hall. The size made it echoic, she’d hear if Tallbush entered. Fletch — 71 — died 839 — passed in his sleep Arenac — 67 — died 839 — old age So what was up with that burglary? It was a pretty lousy one, now that Bitterroot thought about it. Bright lights in the dark… The unicorn just needed to throw a sheet over the window and they’d’ve been nearly invisible. Or, hey, plain old hornlight would be easy to miss. Bitterroot knew that from experience, sadly. Copper Sprocket — 80 — died 805 — passed in his sleep Black Bard — 39 — died 805 — wolves Bitterroot still felt powerless, but it was dripping away as she worked. This job just needed more vigilance. Eyes open, ears up. It’d be, well, interesting. Hopefully not like her last two interesting jobs, or else she’d die again again. At least she knew someone who could do someth- “Hello.” Bitterroot flinched and snapped her head up. Carnelian was standing just in front of her, examining her inquisitively. Flexing her wings to work out some of her adrenaline rush, Bitterroot said, “You’re quiet.” “Oh, I can’t really help it,” Carnelian said, smiling. “But it does alarm some ponies. Scares them to death. What’re you doing here?” “Data analysis. What’re you doing here?” Bitterroot kept an ear towards the main hall. No sound. “I just wanted to check something. Maybe my local library had the book I wanted,” Carnelian replied. She slid a book in front of Bitterroot: Primrose Path. “They did. It’s a way to pass the time.” She pulled the book back. “I thought you said you weren’t a ritualist.” “I’m not.” “So why are you doing their work for them?” Bitterroot shrugged. “I need something to do, I guess.” “Well, what do you want to do? Surely you should do something for yourself.” “Right now? It doesn’t really matter. Helping others is something for myself.” Carnelian flicked an ear. “Truly? Doing unpaid work makes you happy?” “I’m normally a bounty hunter. Either I catch the perp or all my work is unpaid.” “…But these ritualists-” “I volunteered,” Bitterroot said bluntly. “I’m fine with where I am now, thank you. If I’m not, I’ll bow out.” “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure you can do that. I’ve heard Canterlot bureaucracy likes to get its hooks in you.” “Bounty hunters need to navigate a lot of bureaucracy to stay legal. I know how to work these hooks.” Carnelian looked at Bitterroot for a long moment, then said, “Well, best of luck.” She nodded at Bitterroot and made for the exit, book under her wing. On a whim, Bitterroot said, “Hey, quick question. Do you know any pegasus with a gray head and dark red wings?” Carnelian stumbled on some books as she came to a stop. Giving Bitterroot a look, she said, “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a soul like that in Tratonmane.” “Alright,” Bitterroot said, sighing internally. “Thanks, anyway.” With Carnelian gone, Bitterroot looked back at her certificates. Where had she been, again? Ah, yes. Getting near the end. Microburst — 71 — died 803 — old age Abraxas — 79 — died 803 — old age Walking randomly through Tratonmane. Again. Hooray. Alone, this time. Even better. And was the town even darker? Amanita stalked the streets of Tratonmane, looking for Tallbush as she headed south. There were few ponies out and none of them seemed to know where he was. Or so they claimed. When she asked about the pegasus, they didn’t know about him, either. Or so they claimed. These sorts of communities were always close-knit, for better or worse. Was she being paranoid? These ponies didn’t like her. Okay, fine. In their position, she probably wouldn’t like her, either. Did that extend to covering theft for each other? Or worse? Or maybe she’d just been reading too many horror novels. (Which was saying something, since she hadn’t read a lot.) Why do that, anyway? It’d just bring more attention down on them. Well, if the entire town was in on it (whatever “it” was), it wasn’t like asking ponies about the attempted robbery would make things worse; they’d know about it anyway. It was surprising how much the railroad slab loomed, even if you weren’t close to it. Amanita stopped to gather her surroundings. She still wasn’t that far from the hall yet, so- Her ears pricked up at a voice. Its words were indistinct, but it sounded familiar. Tallbush? Maybe. She began tracing it through the streets, the words getting sharper. Soon, she turned a corner, and there they were: Tallbush and Varnish, heading south, towards the station. Tallbush was saying something in a low, urgent voice to the other. “-came ’ere tae help, I cannae keep-” Amanita’s ears twitched forward and she raised a hoof to follow them. But the second she moved, Varnish’s head whipped around and he was looking her in the eyes. He quickly nudged Tallbush to cut him off and pointed. When Tallbush saw her, his ears twitched, then he threw up a smile. “Hidy, Amanita.” “There you are!” Amanita said, as if she hadn’t heard anything. She trotted up to the two of them. “I’ve been looking for you.” “How- are you doing?” asked Varnish. “Not great. Our room at the Cave was broken into,” said Amanita. “Ach, cuss it,” said Tallbush, wincing. Amanita didn’t think that was suspicious. “That’s a right shame. Ye lose arythin’?” “No. But Bitterroot says she saw a unicorn in our room and there were feathers matching a pegasus with dark red wings and a gray head.” Tallbush frowned, pawing at the ground. Varnish’s ears flicked. “What’re you saying?” he asked. Potentially suspicious. But a bi-colored pegasus was unusual. “Shortly after the break-in, Bitterroot ran into a pegasus with dark red wings and a gray head.” Already, that phrase was sounding unusual to Amanita, a word repeated too often. “When we searched our room, we found feathers that Bitterroot says matched their wings.” “But she only saw him in the dark?” “You’d have to talk to her, but she seemed pretty convinced. Does anypony like that live in Tratonmane?” “Nay,” said Tallbush slowly. “Ne’er heard o’ arypony like that.” He seemed genuine. Befuddled. Surprised. Caught by something unexpected. But if there was a pony like that, Tallbush could just tell him to lay low for the rest of the week until those stupid Canterlouts solved the ley line and left. They weren’t in a law enforcement role, after all, and couldn’t go kicking down doors. (Where would they even get a warrant? And was Charcoal in the Guard or a civilian?) Assuming Tallbush and the pony were even in cahoots. Assuming he was lying rather than telling the truth… “I’ll get the word out,” he said. “Tell all Tratonmane tae keep an eye open.” His voice grew hard. “If’n we’ve a scoundrel lurkin’ in our town, we best root ’im out right quick.” He was the duke, but he’d said “our town”, not “my town”. And he drove the train that carried Tratonmane’s freight, and he did it alone. Amanita had once met a pony who’d said that the nobility was more, well, noble if you got further away from Canterlot and brownnosing the princess was impossible. Maybe he was on the level. But on the level for everyone, or just on the level for Tratonmane? “I’ll let Whippletree know, too,” said Varnish, holding his head high. “That pony won’t dare to show his face around here again.” “I’d rather he does dare and then you catch him when he dares,” Amanita said flatly. Varnish didn’t budge; Tallbush twitched and looked away, grinning. “But thanks anyway.” She nodded at them. “See you around.” And she set off down a street, going nowhere in particular. She’d told Tallbush. That was about all she could do. Some things were just out of her control and she had to let others handle it. This was the best she could manage. But before she was too far away, on a whim, Amanita looked back over her shoulder. Tallbush and Varnish were both unicorns.