Lieutenant Colonel Liefner stepped into a small green tent, his face bathed in the glow from the single battery powered lamp inside. He looked past the three other men already inside at the equine lying unconscious on a cot. There was a white bandage wrapped around its head with a red splotch behind its ear where blood had soaked through.

“I assume it’s alive and you didn’t just bandage up a corpse,” he observed dryly. One of the men, a medic from the Ranger Company, nodded. Colonel Liefner turned his attention to the two other men.

“Captain Wainwright, inform Lieutenant Halsey that he will have to detail a guard for this prisoner. Make sure he knows that he is to avoid harming it if possible.” Captain Kingsley, the commander of Alpha Company, dipped his head in acknowledgement and exited the tent to relay the orders. After replacing the creature’s bandage and inspecting the wound, the medic followed suit and excused himself.

“What’s your name, sailor?” Liefner asked the remaining man, who straightened himself at his mention.

“Senior Chief Petty Officer Ruiz, sir.” Liefner scoffed.

“Your real name, son.” Ruiz hesitated before a small smile took root at the edges of his mouth.

“Manwich, sir.” Liefner looked Manwich up and down and nodded, seemingly in agreement that the nickname was accurate. Manwich was certainly big, even for a SEAL.

“Your team took it down?” he asked. Manwich nodded. “Any reason you didn’t just shoot it?” Liefner’s tone wasn’t accusatory, merely curious. Manwich looked down briefly and shifted his weight a bit.

“It just seemed… unnecessary, sir. To kill it, I mean.” Liefner raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the much larger warrior. He was forced to tilt his head back to look him in the eye, but the look on the officer's face eliminated any apparent advantage the sailor’s height offered.

“Son, pretty soon we’re going to be neck deep in these things. We’re going to have to kill some, probably a lot. I need to know right now; are you on board or do I need to find someone else?”

Manwich didn’t hesitate. “I’ve got it locked down, sir. I just didn’t think we needed to add an unnecessary notch to the body count.” The Lieutenant Colonel didn’t say anything for a moment. The air was thick as the officer looked for any sign of weakness or deceit in the elite sailor’s eyes.

Liefner eventually stepped back in satisfaction. “Alright then. Go on, rejoin your team. We’re stepping off soon.”

Manwich bobbed his head respectfully and ducked out of the tent. Liefner turned and knelt down next to the cot. His curiosity got the better of him and he pulled the blanket covering the creature down, past it wings.

The feathered appendages were tucked closely to the alien’s body. Liefner took a moment to just inspect the strange creature before smirking and returning the blanket. He stood and adjusted his gear to sit more comfortably. On his way out of the tent, he glanced back again and shook his head.

“Interesting times,” he muttered to himself. Without another word he exited the tent, nodding to the two Rangers posted as guards, and headed back towards the command area.

The Task Force set off shortly after midnight. Dozens of ATVs, each pulling a trailer, burst out of the Forest north of S-S-1. The convoy quickly organized itself into a cohesive column. All told, it was an impressive force.

22 teams from 1-SFOD and DEVGRU, backed up by the entirety of Alpha Company, 2nd Rangers, packed themselves onto ATVs or into the cramped trailers. Also along for the ride was 2nd Ranger Battalion’s Heavy Mortar Platoon and their compliment of 81mm mortars. The Device was too small to allow any sort of heavy vehicle or aircraft through, and mortars would by the Task Force’s only support. With that in mind, the Assault Force was bringing along as many mortar rounds as could be effectively carried.

Staying behind in the Forest to protect the Device and provide a fallback position was First Platoon of Bravo Company/2nd Rangers, temporarily attached to Alpha’s command. Together, Task Force Forager had an effective strength of almost three hundred shooters, most of which were in the Assault Force. Lieutenant Colonel Liefner and Commander Rustler rode along as the Task Force Commander and Executive Officer, respectively.

Despite the sound-muffling modifications made to the ATVs, each custom made for JSOC operations, their combined volume was still anything but subtle. The only reason their movement wasn’t detected early on was careful planning; they had chosen a route that let them avoid most of what nocturnal traffic there was.

Most, but not all.

Trixie was exhausted, but in a good way.

After the ‘incident’ with the Alicorn Amulet, she had turned to rebuilding herself with vigor. Twilight Sparkle's refusal to hold a grudge even after all the terrible things she had done had inspired her. She revitalized her shows, turning away from working the crowd for challenges and instead performing the type of feats that had originally given her the title of 'Great and Powerful.'

Gone was the antagonistic persona. In its place was the kind but mischievous attitude she had once perfected. To the audience she was conversational but with strong undertones of having complete control of a situation; all-knowing and able to perform any action she wished by sheer force of will.

The crowds ate it up. Venues that hadn’t been open to her in years lined up to invite her for shows. Major theaters in Manehattan bid against Los Pegasus casinos for a week of performances. The bits flowed like they never had, so much so she was able to purchase a new, better wagon.

Her new rolling home was more than double the size of her previous carriage, and, instead of having to perform double duty as an unfolding stage, was a carriage and nothing more. While some might prefer to merely move from hotel to hotel, Trixie had always felt as if she needed to have a place to call her own; a place that wouldn't be cleaned up and repackaged for another customer the moment she left. It gave her largely nomadic lifestyle a center of gravity, a constant she could always look forward to.

When she stopped in small towns between cities, as she liked to do often, her new/old persona meant she didn’t need to appear on a stage and lord herself over ponies. In fact, her tricks seemed all the more spectacular when she was in amongst the masses.

She had thought her return to greatness couldn’t get any better, until it did. She had been finishing a show in a small village near Trottingham when a beige unicorn approached her. The mare had introduced herself as an agent of the Royal Canterlot Garden Hall. She had been sent by her superiors to invite Trixie to perform over a three day weekend.

After picking her jaw up out of the dirt, Trixie had accepted and rushed to the Mountain Crown as quickly as her hooves could carry her.

Three days and a good night’s rest later, Trixie walked out of Canterlot with her head held high and a standing invitation for a return performance, not to mention enough bits to buy a small island.

Her legs, sore from the rather intense performances, protested weakly as she pulled her home along. The feeling wasn’t particularly unpleasant; the combination of many years of pulling her wagon and the spells designed to lighten the load meant she felt less miserable and more accomplished. The light pain was merely a constant reminder that she was back on top, and that she had fought her way there every step of the way. A small smile graced her features as she began to look for a clearing along the road for a place to bed down for the night.

Her search came to an end in a small roadside rest stop. Ancient oak trees lined the clearing to provide a secluded refuge, and a patch of daisies offered the promise of a free breakfast in the morning. After the long walk from Canterlot, even if it was downhill, Trixie was eager to hop into bed. However, an incident with her first wagon had taught her early on that if your house is mobile, you should never forget to use wheel chocks.

Halfway through ensuring her home didn’t roll into a lake while she slept, Trixie’s ears twitched. A low, distant rumbling picked at the edge of her awareness. Fatigue and inattention drowned out the nagging sensation until the noise was practically on top of her.

When the pale blue mare finally noticed the sound, her head jerked up in surprise. Adrenaline flooded her system as instinct took hold and launched her into the bushes. Shaking and terrified, violet eyes peaked out of the scrub towards the road. Panicked shivering vibrated the branches all around her, but the frightened magician was far too spooked to notice. Whatever was approaching sounded like an Ursa Minor on the warpath.

Seconds passed and the sound became more distinct, revealing itself to be a muffled cacophony of dozens of individual roars. Moments later a string of what Trixie would later describe only as monsters riding strange metal machines ripped by. The beasts threw up a dust cloud that choked the air. Only sheer willpower prevented a cough from escaping her throat and giving herself away.

It seemed like an eternity to Trixie before the last of the monsters passed. It took the mare nearly an hour to pull herself together enough to exit the hedge. Reluctantly she approached the road and scanned for any signs of what she had witnessed. The only evidence anything had been there at all were the bizarre wheel treads in the dirt. Only later would she realize that the tracks pointed in the direction she had just come from.