Kestral paced around under the bird's nest quietly. The more he thought about the situation, the more he realized that he may end up in something deep if he didn't figure out for himself what was going on. A little, unnoticed stroll into town won't hurt anyone, right?

Of course, not everything goes to plan, so he decided to stand here and observe the town a little more before heading in. It was at this point that he noticed the things flying around were definitely not birds. They were simply too misshapen to be so. What they were was probably a less important detail, so he cared little at the time.

Considering he was wearing nearly all black, Kestral would be quite easy to spot. He would have to wait until it was all clear before he could move around. At least, assuming the population really was hostile to him. The wolf head, he simply dropped. It was probably no use to him in a civilized town anyway.

With a long glance, he could see it was his chance. No one was milling about, and the misshapen birds were no longer gliding around too closely. With all his supplies packed up and his new toy in a coat pocket, he ran over as fast as he could to cross the clearing. He hopped over a fence and bolted to the random stack of hay just on the side of the building.

It was difficult to crouch with the rifle on the inside of his coat, so the piece of clothing was thrown back some, to alleviate the constriction. The stone wall of what was presumably a small house lined up well enough with the hay, sealing one side, and covering any cracks between the two.

He peeked his head around the hay and watched for any movement. One of the flying things flew high overhead, and some were hovering around clouds, but none too close. He moved up closer to the front corner and peered around the whole street. On the whole street, there were just two of those...things next to another house.

Now that Kestral got a closer look, he could make out some details. They were definitely candy colored, one being a midnight blue and the other being a cream color with rose hair. From what he could tell, they only looked about three feet tall. Quadruped looking as well. They looked as if they were some kind of equine, but one could not truly call it a 'horse'. The eyes were too large, snout too small, and body too small to call it so. For now, he decided just call them ponies.

It was hard for him to believe candy-colored ponies would be hostile to him, but then again, it was difficult to believe they even existed. Well, he hadn't heard them talk yet, or do anything intelligent, so maybe they were mutants with paint on them, as far as he could tell.

Well, let's find out, shall we?

He pulled out his spanking new slingshot and a steel ball. He leaned at the corner of the house just at an angle that he can get a shot off at the the house. He slid the shot into the leather pouch and pulled back hard on it. He aimed toward the front porch of the house the two equines were in front of, and focused said aim at the window. Holding his breath, he took the shot, and released the pouch.

SMASH.

Kestral observed the two equines and listened carefully. Quite clearly, he could hear one of them yell 'my window' in such a panicked way that he felt mildly sorry for having done it. Only mildly. But if he could get away with it, hopefully he could get one alone so he could talk to him or her. If most have never seen a human before, they might not recognize one right off the bat, right? Perhaps he could get information about what they know about humans.

One of them, the blue one with dark blue and white hair, ran off along the street and disappeared around the corner, leaving the off-white equine with red hair alone. The perfect chance. He got up and hurried over to the 'pony' of sorts, hood down and only in a jog, to prevent from scaring her or him.

Roseluck was having what was simply a bad day. First, somepony had eaten a good dozen of her flowers, and now somepony had just broken her window. Her friend Colgate just ran off to go get the local window repair-pony. At least it was a window and not an eye.

Of course, fate always had a bad habit of making things go from bad to worse. As she got over to inspect the broken glass, she heard a voice call out from behind her.

“Excuse me ma'am, I heard a shattering sound from over here, is everything all right?” Said the moderately deep voice. She turned around, expecting a guard or so, and began to answer. “Oh yeah, I'm fine it's just....a....window...” She slowed her answer as she took in the sight of what was actually the caring speaker.

To her, it looked like a mutant minotaur, of sorts. It was roughly six feet tall, which was almost double her height, and biped. The clothing on it was nearly all black, except for it's satchel, which was a chocolate brown. It's lower appendages flattened out into what appeared to be a foot, like a monkey's, while it's higher appendages ended off with what looked like hands, also like a monkey's. The face of the creature was more flat than most creatures, with small facial features in comparison to a pony's. The eyes were especially small, too small to even tell the color, or be sure where they are really pointing.

The skin of the being, since there was no fur, was mildly pale, but one could not tell if it was naturally that way or simply a sickness of sorts. The hair contrasted the skin, because of it's dark chocolate color. It looked as if it was cut ridiculously a short time ago and was just now starting to get some length. The stubble around it's chin stretched to it's ears , though looking more patchy than the hair on top, perhaps by an amateur attempt to cut it without a mirror.

Simply by looking at the creature before her, Roseluck's mind started a fuzzing feeling, as if the description of this being was quite familiar. Her mind had made some kind of connection, because she started itching to know more. So she extended the conversation by asking “I'm sorry, have we met before?”

The being smiled and shook his head. “No, I suppose not, but my name is Kestral Petrovski. Local human. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand, low enough for her to interact with, expecting a returning gesture.

What he got was a hyperventilating pony who already forgot how to regulate breathing. She began backing away slowly. “You're a...a hu... hu... hu...man??” She burst out as fast as she could, screaming. “Guards! Guards!! LYRA! WHAT DO I DO?!?!”

Kestral watched her with irritation, mostly at the high pitched voice. Whatever she thought about humans, it was not a kind thought.

Wait- shit, she's getting the fuzz out here! Gotta bail.

He high-tailed it back across the street and past the house, not caring if a bystander noticed him. If he got back in the forest he'd have a better advantage anyway, so he did just that as quickly as he could. As soon as he got back into the brush, he looked back and checked for any possible pursuers for a good minute. He would have kept looking , but that's when he heard his new friend's voice first.

“Did I not tell you to stay out until dusk?” Scolded the voice. “And you were seen, too? Such shame, I thought you were better at hiding.”

Kestral looked around, peering through all the brush, attempting to find the hidden voice. He searched for the owner of said voice, but found nothing.

“Don't bother looking for me, I'm not actually here.”

He really was getting tired of this crap already. Not knowing what was going on was not exactly Kestral's favorite situation. “Alright, fine. What do you want with me?”

“Hmm. Straight to the point. I like that right now.” The voice led on. “Very well. The situation is this: People, specifically these ponies that you met, are in danger, and I need you to reduce the death toll as much as possible.”

Kestral took in every word with mild criticism, which skyrocketed at the end. “That's uh...that's pretty damn blunt, just telling a guy to go and save lives 'n shit. If they are in danger, why not save them yourself?” He asked, not even hiding skepticism.

“To be straight, I’m imprisoned.” Said the voice, without any more information to give yet.

“Uh huh. So how are you talking to me? Last I heard prisoners weren't allowed to have cellphones.” Probably some kind of radio rigged to speakers.

“Magic.” was all the voice gave.

“Don't be a...nevermind. If you don't want to tell me, just say it.”

“I'm serious, magic is a common thing in this world. I can even detect traces within you.”

What the hell does he mean this world? “Okay, fine,” It would definitely explain why wolves can grow wood for armor. He decided to play along with this lunatic. At least he can get information on how messed up he is. “assuming magic does exist, since when was it common in 'this world'.”

“Well, for all time. It really isn't like your world, where magic died out.” the voice said.

“What is that suppose to mean, 'your world'. Am I not still in Kansas?” Asked Kestral. Stupid question by now actually. Never heard of talking 'ponies' in America.

The voice gave a low, amused laugh. “No, I suppose you are not. I brought you here to aid me, to be my tool because I am imprisoned.” It paused. “ But I think you want proof, don't you?”

Kestral gave a “Hell yeah I do” in response.

“Very well, do as I asked earlier, and don't get seen again. Wait until dusk to move into the town, and I shall provide ample evidence of why I need your help eliminating the threat. But you need to understand, this isn't going to get done over night. I will need you for months.”

Kestral thought about the situation he was in. It couldn't be a very pleasant one if he got caught, but it was probably a lot better than being sent to prison back on earth. There was one thing Kestral wanted to know about though...

“What kind of reward do I get? Assuming i agree to go along with your plan.” Not the most selfless of questions, but if he had to be brought into crap like this he wanted something more than experience out of it.

“You really are a thief, aren't you?...How about this: While you are doing your part to save ponies, you can also steal money and items, bring them back to me, and I shall...well, we'll talk about that later.”

Kestral sat in contemplation for a moment before speaking. “I was totally thinking stuff like a Swiss bank account loaded with cash, but if you got something better I'm game. Alright, see you.”

An echo of what sounded like a clap could be heard. “Well perfect. Go ahead and hunt or forage if you want, just don't go into the town until dusk. I shall see you then.”

And with that, the voice was gone. Presumably. There wasn't a noise to go with it's disappearance, so it was hard for him to be sure. Kestral really didn't mind, though. At the time, he was thinking and adding up all the evidence that he was given. As ambiguous as the term 'magic' is, it could definitely explain what he has seen so far. Talking ponies? Magic. Wolves in perfect wood armor? Magic. Birds that can find you anywhere? Magi- okay, maybe just well trained. Dude claimed to commit wizardry from his prison? Freaking magic. Said dude pulled your body from it's sleeping place to send you to a freaking world where everyone is going to be racist towards you? Magic, or human trafficking, either one works.

Well, he thought, I suppose this makes things a lot easier, doesn't it? Either I'm in a coma, or dead, or this is real. This doesn't look like hell to me so that rules out one of those. He pondered the other options quickly. And I don't think I’d just fall into a coma at random.

He shook his head. “Nope, guess I’ll just believe this is real.”

Kestral took a longing look towards the town, watching a couple of the 'ponies' float around in the air with their wings near where he got away. None of them seemed to notice him, so maybe they weren't really trying or they just are all near-sighted. Either one works, but this time he was going to wait until dusk, like he was told.

He turned around toward the forest and began to walk, brought his revolver out and watched carefully. He wanted to get a meal this time.

In the secluded area prairie outside of town, the one next to the Everfree, there lays but one house. It is a modest home, but plenty for only one pony to own. It sets on a small dirt hill and has a path leading from the elevated entrance to the lower surroundings. A thatched roof is what it had, which was normal for the town. The fireplace stood on its own end, awaiting the day it can be used again. A great number of animals and critters made their home there, along with the injured ones that were urging to go back to unseen families or hordes.

Yes, Fluttershy's home was quite the welcoming one. Even ponies seem to feel the warm incandescence of hospitality that is present. Many of the animals do what they can to show appreciation, as much as animals can.

Which isn't much.

But one bird, in particular, was rather good at his gifts. He could never tell a soul, but his name was 'Avio', perhaps someday he could earn a better name, when someone adopted him. His gifts were good because he simply found the shiniest thing he could see, and when no one was looking, he took it. Some of his gifts turned out to be spare bits, small diamonds, or even, with help from his fellow sparrows, a small tool. Not that Avio knew what these things were, he simply knew that his master loved shiny things.

What he was carrying that day, though, was no ordinary shiny object. It was quite unique in its design. It had a heavy, copper-colored end that smoothed down to a point, with the rest of it being mostly cylindrical and brass-colored. Avio cared little, though. As long as master liked it, he liked it.

It was a shame, really, that master was gone at the time Avio had arrived with his gift. So instead, he had perched himself up on the roof, awaiting the time when master came home.

Of course, not all is as planned. As he was resting, a carrot had been thrown and smacked Avio in the face. He dodged the second one, barely, and got a glimpse of who the thrower was. It was none other than Angel the Rabbit. His arch-nemesis had woken from his mid-day nap, and was now attempting to ruin Avio's glorious tribute to master.

Avio retaliated by flying up and away, but a stray carrot managed to hit him yet again. The golden treasure was tossed about and landed in the grass. Avio looked in the eyes of his enemy, and watched him do the same. Both were determined to get the prize.

Avio dive-bombed for the valuable piece while Angel burst forth with his longest jumps. Avio quite nearly grasped the prize, but Angel got it first, blowing a raspberry at Avio as he sprinted back to the cottage. Avio was not willing to give up easily, however, and shot after the demon-bunny.

Angel had gone through the door and slammed it shut, locking each of the locks as locked as locks lock. What he did not notice, however, was that Avio had slipped in at the last second. What he did notice, was that Avio was then pecking all over Angel violently in order to force a drop. Angel took the bullet and smacked Avio away in a powerful swing.

Avio hit a pillow with his trajectory, and recovered easily. He flew at Angel and grasped for the brass piece successfully and flew off for the kitchen, where he perched above a boiling pot of water. Presumably, it was waiting for it's owner to come and place food it, but said owner was not there at the time, so it was setting there, awaiting the time for use.

Angel refused to give up, and found a nearby carrot. He aimed as well as he could and threw with all his might. The carrot struck the bullet, forcing Avio to lose his grip. In what seemed to be in slow-motion, both watched as the treasure fell into the water, where neither could attain it's promises of proving either being the best pet of Fluttershy.

Angel grabbed a spoon and tapped it on the ground as a sort of ritual, indicating the request for a dual of honor. Avio was pissed, so he glided down in front of Angel and let out a screech to intimidate him before the battle. The two locked eyes, both showing nothing less than pure rage at each other. They charged, fully intending to damage the other brutally.

BOOM

But alas, the fight would stave off another day. Avio flew by Angel harmlessly, and took his cowardice with his self upstairs. Angel, with his good hearing, was considerably frightened by the loud sound that came from the pot.

But what frightened him more, was the sound of the click on the door lock.

Kestral was once again surrounded by foliage. The warm air somehow penetrated the woods and blew by him at a turtle's pace. The sunlight was also quite shielded, but only to the point of restricting direct sunlight, not all sight. He noticed these things long ago, but put them out of mind when his thoughts were plagued with hunting his next meal.

He didn't know what exactly he could hunt. He didn't know the area and was unsure of what he would find. Since it was a forest with mild temperatures, though, it couldn't be that far from animals back in Kansas, right?

Regardless, he moved on in thought, paying close attention to the sounds of the forest. The tree limb beneath his boots gave a slight budge under his weight, but not enough to danger him in the least. The squirrels had bolted off a while ago, but many of the other species stayed a distance from Kestral and watched with undying curiosity.

On the tree only about ten feet from Kestral's was an unlucky squirrel with a knife pinning it to the back. Not only that, but blood was smeared from the poor animal all over. Now all he had to do was wait for a predator to come and get his final meal. The blood in the air would attract something to the trap, which was why Kestral had been careful not to get blood on himself earlier. A primitive trap, truly, but it was effective.

Kestral worried little. From what he knew, the bigger and more dangerous predators typically hunted at night or in the Twilight times. Unless, of course, they felt threatened by his presence, in which case he was screwed regardless. He was honestly expecting something along the lines of a fox. What he was NOT expecting, however, was this half-chicken half-snake beheld in front of him.

It looked like some poor snake had mistaken chicken eggs for it's own and made a mess around them with it's wife. To Kestral, it was simply not worth worrying about, which was why in spite of his shock, he was still placing his revolver back and pulling out his rifle.

He held his breath and aligned the barrel of the gun to the white feathers on the body. He aimed higher to the head and waited. The quick pecking from the creature made it difficult to get a good shot there, so he lowered his aim again to about the neck, where his shot would be both critical and easy. He pulled slowly on the trigger, awaiting the shock of the bullet to push on his shoulder.

To his mild surprise, the trigger didn't move. Right. Safety. He Flicked his finger around and pressed on the safety to release the trigger again. He pulled down slowly on the trigger again, until finally-

Another cockatrice slithered out towards the first and coiled itself around it.

Kestral sighed a sigh of defeat at another failed hunt. As he lowered his gun he acknowledged the chance that if he shot one, the other may attack him. Unknown creatures are not his taste for fighting, so he decided to play it safe. He didn't put up his gun, just in case something happened, but he did lower it into a more comfortable hold.

He watched as one of the freaks carried off the other some distance away, possibly to do things that Kestral will not speak of. As they left his vision, he dropped down and walked over towards the half-eaten squirrel, pulled the knife out of the blood-covered bark and placed it back in it's sheath. Another, even more defeated sigh escaped his lips as he carried himself away. He realized that the squirrel would have been good enough to last him until later, but then even that option was thrown out.

Back to the Slim-Jims I guess.

Kestral was already back in his new comfy spot at the edge of the town, sitting down with a frown at his empty stomach. The whole ordeal had taken a few hours time, and the sun was already about to complete it's descent. A few more wrappers stuck out from his pocket, just to be sure not a soul found a trail from him.

Since he began waiting, he had started and stopped several times the action of looking through his scope and observing the town in a bit better detail. It wasn't quite as boring, and helped pass the time. Mostly, though, he watched the pegasai fly around and manipulate the weather. He found it rather fascinating that they could simply move clouds around at will.

Of course, right around then is when Mr. Telepathy decided to come back.

“Hello there Kestral.” It announced. “Ready to learn of why you're needed?”

“Yeah,” he replied, “Just point me in the right direction.”

“Good. But I’ll talk to you about a couple things first.” The voice gave off that feeling of one having just entered a room filled with a suppressing silence.

“Can it wait?” Kestral let out. “I'd like to know what you've dragged me into.”

“I have good reasons. Primarily because I'm still checking for targets right now.”

Targets? Kestral thought, but before he could get a word in, the voice continued.

“So the first thing is this. Since this world does not house advanced weaponry like guns, I am the only one that can supply these 'bullets' to you. Just bring me coin and I’ll give you ammunition.”

“Woah, wait.” Kestral cut in. “You're going to tell me to do a job for you and then tell me I need to pay you to do it?”

“Is every human really so worried about econom-... Okay, look. I need you to do this job but I also need to know you will pace yourself and truly consider planning ahead. Both of which I will eventually leave you to do by yourself. Now this leads into another point I need you to know.”

The voice was silent for a moment, giving Kestral enough time to ask his thoughts. “Okay, fine. I suppose that makes sense, but doesn't that seem counter intuitive? Wouldn't that just slow me down rather than help me help you?”

“What would be counter intuitive would be to let you have a large supply and go on a killing spree, letting both the local government and the vermin you hunt know that something is afoot. So no, not really. I need you to do this right, not fast.” Kestral inhaled to make another point but was cut off. “And as far as efficiency goes, I can also make modifications to whatever you have to make it better in some way. Which was my next point.”

Kestral was actually mildly excited to hear that. Better equipment? It's something he could really use if he could nab the cash to get it. “Sweet.” was his reply. Kestral remembered his own disbelief on the premise of magic, so he decided to ask for a little demonstration. He felt around in his pockets and pulled out a leather bag that jangled as he moved it. “I'm assuming these kind of coins are it, then?”

“Yes, those are the currency accepted.”

“Cool, what can you do for this amount?” He asked excitedly.

“Nothing much. Ammo is all I can think of. Improving your weapons will take significantly more than that. If you think of something I’ll tell you if it's enough.”

Kestral thought about it for a good moment. He looked at his hands. The gloves on them were rather worn and the gray cloth was ripped in several spots. “Can you give me new gloves?”

“Yes.”

“Do it.” Kestral watched in no small wonder as the cloth gloves seemed to transform into a completely different pair. As he felt his new set, he noticed that dark leather had replaced the cloth and fit snugly on his hands. Like the old set, they had the fingers cut off to give his fingertips freedom.

“Hell yeah.” He very much enjoyed his new set, but was curious as to how much the gloves cost him, so he shook around the leather bag, and wasn't too surprised to find only a few coins left.

“Fifty bits is what I took. Seemed fair at least.” The voice gave a fake cough as if to clear it's throat. “Now then. On to my last discussion. I've noticed something odd about you. In spite of coming from a world without magic, you actually seem to have some stuck to you. First, I need you to pull up your sleeves and look at your arms for me.”

Kestral had no idea what was going on, but it sounded like he was about to get a prostate exam in magical form. He rolled up his sleeves as instructed and observed his arms. To his surprise, there were marking on his arms. On each arm, three bands of six perfect circles each looped around. All three bands were placed together between the wrist and the midpoint of the forearm.

“Okay, now just what the fuck is this?” He asked.

“Well, for you, that's your magic.... When you got here this morning, did you notice anything? Pain, perhaps?”

He thought about that early morning and did recall an unpleasant sensation. “Yeah, actually. A little bit of burning on the arms. It left before I could stand up.”

“Hmm,” it gave pensively, “Interesting. I've also notice they seem to be...attuned...somewhat. So I ask that you read this book.”

“What book-”

Suddenly Kestral heard a sparrow's war-cry from just above him. As he turned upward he noticed too late that a hard leather book was making it's descent. Right into his face.

SLAM

“Ouch” Kestral said while picking up the book from the ground. “Huh, 'Ignition: Guide to Flame Magic'.” He held it close, turning it about to observe it. “Why should I read it?”

“I believe that you are able to do magic. It's just a theory, but if you are successful, you can put it into practice.”

“Really? So if I read a book I can do the magic, in theory?”

“Yes.”

“What if it's in that freaky Greek text like on the coins? I can't read that.”

“Oh don't worry. A long time ago a group of earth pony peasants sued to have a common written language be chosen for all official texts, but not applied to already molded coinage. Long story short, it was 'English' as you call it that was chosen among the three pony languages, so they are all readable.”

“Oh.”

Kestral took a long look at the book and decided to once again humor the voice in his head. He cracked open the book at the table of contents, and went to chapter one.