In distant Canterlot a colt stood pondering idly over the form of his sister as she slumbered in a half dismantled crib that she'd long outgrown but refused to abandon entirely. In the chaos of the hasty move, it, and a number of other articles gleaned from a baby shower that had taken place in happier times, had been dumped into this oversized closet in their undersized apartment and had remained, after the birth and developmental years in a state of disarray in this so called nursery, long become a filly's bedroom. His own lodgings were of no greater elegance, in fact he shared a bed with his mother, a circumstance he found mildly irksome and would soon be at an age to find it altogether intolerable, as happens with foals.

He reflected that he'd give up even that comfort and sleep in the streets if he could do anything to lessen their plight. While it was true that they'd been saved from the threat he'd lived under the cloud of his entire life, the changelings, Canterlot was an expensive city. It was a blessing, Celestia's own, in fact, that a high level bureaucrat in the Princess' cabinet had made arrangements for them to silently slip away from Tanis when his mother was still burdened with his unformed sister. They even received benefits for their barest needs from the state in consideration of the necessity that they mustn't be found lest they risk being harried by the changelings even here, in this safest of cities.

His mother still managed to bring in extra bits by performing in the streets in a style quite novel and exotic in this stuffy, all unicorn town, but those bits were earmarked for the sleeping foal before him. Her upcoming education was paramount and took precedence over all other comforts and luxuries the family longed for. She was a unicorn, and early indications said that she was destined to be quite a powerful one when properly trained.

For his part, he'd vowed to train with the guard and protect everypony from the horrors that had turned them all into refugees, from horrors like the one that slept on the other side of the bed, on the other side of his mother. He narrowed his eyes to slits and exhaled sharply as he envisioned it, that thing that thought to claim to be his sire and his mother's own husband. Deep down he felt as if he'd always known, and that's why he called him Locus, rather than father, but things he'd seen in recent days brought the point home in ways he could no longer ignore.

For the time being there was little enough to be done, save that he should get his courage up and make a try at pseudopatricide some night, a circumstance he doubted he had the wherewithal for. He would train, though, in the streets, with the rough foals and the bullies, with the guard as soon as they would have him and when the time came he would live up to his new moniker, the one he'd decided on for himself. A gryphon word for one who stalked and killed his prey.

The filly before him mumbled in her sleep, as if in the thrall of a minor trauma of a nightmare and he nuzzled her affectionately. "Hush now Grace, everything's fine, your brother's here looking after you and he always will be."

In her drowsy state she mumbled the name that had been given him upon his birth, a cutesy thing, not meant for the serious minded and disciplined stallion he vowed to become. He swore that he would protect his sister and then and there made an oath to himself that he would drive away the imposter in their own home and track down all those like him and the malevolent creatures of Equestria would know to fear the name he aspired to, his true self represented by his internally adopted mononym. From that night forward, to himself and later to the world at large, he was Hunter.