It was early morning while the fog was still out and a thick cover of mist had surrounded us. It appeared as if the only world that existed was the sphere of visibility we had before what we saw faded into a haze of gray. I wanted to get lost in that fog. It seemed so tranquil yet mysterious. It hid all of the green in the ocean, all of the ships in the harbor, and all of the blue in the sky. Instead, there was just one thing and one thing alone. Peace. Stillness. A harmony between time and nature. There was a nip in the air accompanied by a soft breeze. It tickled that my mane with a delicate chill, hinting in my ear that a bright and sunny day was yet to come. Just not yet.

Crackle had a rather loud and rough voice. It was especially strident because he was currently furious, spitting every time he voiced the letter, f.

“I heard about you sly little fuckers. Lancer treats you three like royalty when you all are nothing but shit stains looking to be strung up by your innards!”

Crackle paused. He was looking at Risk, Rant, and I along the edge of the dock. The three of us were slaves. We served under our master, Lancer, on the ship known as Galient Venture. Crackle was the new provost of that ship. In landlubber terms, he held the discipline of the ship’s crew. Especially of the slaves. He had gotten us out off the sip, early in the morning, and onto this dock. Nopony but Crackle and I knew why we were here and that made me all the more terrified.

“I've just about had it. You bilge rats are going to get your bloody dues and I'm going to be one who gives them to you.”

Salt water splashed up against the pillars underneath us to break the silence. Crackle paced back and forth, glaring death at our lowered foreheads. We simply stared at the wood below his hooves. We didn't dare stare straight on at him. I could see the whip on his side in the corner of my eye, starving for blood. I remembered how the winds whispered in my ear no more than a minute ago. But was today really supposed to be a sunny day?

“So tell me,” Crackle started to say. He took a menacing step toward the three of us. “Which one of you took it?”

It, that word echoed through my head. I knew what he was talking about. This wasn't merely a charade of dominance or typical discipline. This was revenge.

“Pardon me, sir, but what was taken?” Rant asked. My heart went into my throat, because I knew what would come next.

WUH-PSSSH!

Rant squealed as the whip smacked against her ribcage. She knelt onto the dock and began to moan from the stinging pain of the whip slash. She clenched her teeth and closed her tear-filled eyes. It was as if the whip didn’t just leave a singe on her body but on her soul as well.

My mouth dropped in disbelief. This was really happening right now. I could feel my stomach sink as I realized that this was all because of me.

“Don't act dumb with me.” Crackle kicked Rant onto her side. She groaned and trembled as she stared back up at him. For all she knew, that lash wasn't going to be her last.

I glanced over at Risk and she was keeping her signature stone face looking downward. No emotion was being shown at all. I knew that she was channeling all of that fire into pure, raw hate. If only I had a fraction of that energy right now. Instead, I felt like a twig beneath a cyclone of guilt and judgement.

“Which one of you fuckers done did it?” Crackle snarled as he leaned neck toward each of us. His accent was that of a thick northerner. His actual pronunciation of the words was something to the effect of, “Weech one o’ ya fackas dun did et?”

I could smell his breath, it had reeked of rum and carrots—the most unpleasant combination. “Huh?!” he groaned as he was beginning to grow impatient. “Which one of you no-good scumbags did it?” His horn levitated the whip in a striking stance that was ready to go at a moment’s notice if he wasn’t going to get an answer soon.

Yet we just stood there. All of us were silent once more. I clenched my teeth as the hairs on my body stood up.

Crankle knelt down and screamed, “My fucking red delicious!” into Rant's ear. She flinched and covered her face with her hooves, protecting herself from the potential slashes that were to come.

“It was in my bloody saddlebag and you went and took it, didn't you?” Crackle continued.

“N-no, sir!” Rant stammered.

“No?” Crackled asked in a fake disbelief.

“Not at all, sir!”

“Hmm… If it wasn't you,” Crackle's face swiftly scrunched in front of mine. His yellowed eyes were lit with flames, “then was it you!” The odor of rum and carrots slammed into my nostrils just as the screaming slammed into my ears. I shook at the knees and felt like I was going to barf and faint.

“N-n-na-n-n...” I was trying to say no, but my stutter wasn't helping.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Redondo.” I felt a quick tug of my mane and my head was pulled to look down. He couldn't stand the sight of me, let alone hear me splutter my sentences. I took this as a mercy, as I heard Crackle’s footstep move further down the line. “Was it you?” he shouted at Risk.

Crackle gave no rest for Risk even though she was a mute. In fact, he has yelled her the most out of all of us because she couldn’t speak. And like all punishments, she simply kept her head down and bottled up all of her fury like Rant and I knew she was.

“Oh ho ho, I bet it was you,” Crackle poked Risk's forehead with a hoof. His fire was playing with hers. It was only a matter of time before somepony was going to blow.

“Hell, it could have been the both of you fucking look-alike's,” he grumbled, darting his gaze back and forth from Risk to Rant and Rant to Risk. He hated those twins about as much as he hated me. He just hated all of us.

But Rant and Risk didn't deserve this, because I was the guilty one. I took one of Crackle’s apples from his saddlebag while he was taking a nap yesterday. I thought he wouldn't miss it since it looked like he had plenty of extras. Why didn’t I realize that he would keep count?

And why hadn’t I revealed myself earlier? Now both of my friends were going to suffer.

I gulped as I boldly looked up at Crackle. I had to stop this. I had to at least try.

“Sir, please,” I began to say softly, but all my words were stuck in my mouth. “This is just a...” my stutter started to kick in, “just a…” It had take control of my mouth and made my tongue kick and my teeth rattle. Now I hit the point of no return. I couldn’t speak perfectly in one attempt and I knew it. So I paused mid-sentence and tried to start over.

Crackle was getting on annoyed on the other hand, “This is just a 'what,' Redondo?” He growled at me. I could hear his whip hissing at me too.

So I started the sentence over again but this time, I tried getting all the words out faster, “This is j-just a misunderst-st-st-sta…”

Of all the times for my stutter, it had to be now. Celestia have mercy.

I tried to continue on, “A misundersta-st-st-sta--”

WUH-PSSSH!!!

The whip slashed right across my cheek. It was like the side of my face was set ablaze with pain. I yelped and jerked backward. I ended up almost falling off the edge of dock. My reflexes caused me to collapse forward onto my stomach, a few inches away from the edge. I had forgotten the harbor was there. I put a hoof on my cheek but it couldn't contain the stinging agony.

The whip jumped around frantically, Crackle was ready to lash again, “I don't care how valuable Lancer thinks you are, all of you are getting your flanks beaten all way to...”

Before he could whip at us again, Crackle stopped dead in his tracks. I slowly glanced up and he had his gaze toward the fog. Something had caught his eye. I turned and looked out that way as well, to see what he was looking at. There was an object coming through the haze. It was a small dinghy boat, with a sole stallion rowing in it.

“Who goes there?” Crackle asked with a deadly agitation. He was both annoyed that somepony was interrupting one of his discipline sessions yet cautious since an unidentified pony was moving in on a dock that they clearly had no business in.

The stallion in dinghy did not reply though. He rowed soundlessly to the front of the dock, like a wisp, then stopped. He stood up and jumped onto the dock, tying down the boat down to one of the dock’s beams.

“Oi! Don't anchor there, this is a reserved dock!” Crackle yelled, this time with more assertion. He turned his back on us three and began menacingly approach the stallion.

The stallion looked up, a coat was covering his body as was a privateer’s hat casting a shadow over his face. His darkened eyes stared back at Crackle as he got onto his hooves after anchoring the dinghy. “Doesn't this belong to Lancer?” He asked.

“Of course, it does. Who the hell are you?” Crackle snarled.

“Someone you shouldn't bark at, mate,” The stallion said as he tipped his hat back. He had a solemn tan furred face. “Lancer's expecting me.”

Crackle was unconvinced and he held his ground. “I didn't hear about nopony coming to see him. ‘Specially no vagrant sailor. Do you even know who you're talking to?”

“Oh, apologizes, mate. I mistook you for a knave,” The stallion said as he took off his hat and placed it on the beam his dinghy was anchored to. He looked at Crackle with an expression that contained a passive lethality. “Now do those ponies deserve those lashes you're giving them or are you more of a degenerate than I originally took you for.”

“Hey.” Crackle advanced a couple of paces, halving the distance between the stallion and himself before stopping, “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, these 'ponies' are slaves.”

The stallion shrugged at that fact, “They're ponies all the same, mate.”

Crackle’s physical advance was not effective, so he tried his verbal skills again. “These pieces of shite are property just as much as the dock you're standing on. Speaking of which, 'mate', if you don't get your flank back on your piss-ant dinghy and sail out of the harbor, I'll be inclined to slit your throat wide.” Crackle was practically seeping with rage. His horn was starting to glow. I was expecting a knife to pop out and slay the stallion right there. But there he stood, defiant of Crackle’s presence.

“Aye. I have no doubt that you will be,” The stallion stuck a hoof up in the air and nonchalantly pointed it back at Crackle, “But do you know there are plenty of stallions out there who would be more than 'inclined' to loosen you up a few pegs. Or have you not visited one of them recently?” A smirk grew on the stallion’s face.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Crackle started to advance additional paces toward the stallion when I saw Risk ran past Rant and I and charged right at him.

“You piece of--?” Risk tackled Crackle down with the force of a buffalo, slamming him down onto the wooden planks with a sickening thunk. Rant and I watched in horror as Risk began to pound Crackle’s head with her hooves. He was squealing in pain with every punch.

“Risk, no! Stop!” Rant pleaded to her sister.

And in a heartbeat, the stallion was on her. He had tackled her off of Crackle and was trying to pin her down. “Take it easy, lass!” The stallion was trying to say. Risk started to kick wildly at him and they both grappled with one another.

“Wh-what?!” That was the only word to come out of my mouth.

“Sweet Luna in the stars, stop it!” Rant shouted at the two.

Risk became frantic. She knew how much bigger the stallion was compared to her. She tried to throw some hoof punches at the stallion's head, which he blocked the majority of. The ones that did connect only served to make the stallion visibly angry. He used what strength he had to get her completely underneath himself. I knew Risk had lost the fight once he had accomplished this.

The stallion then got Risk into a headlock. I could see the fear in her eyes. She then finally realized that it was all over now. Yet she still flailed her limbs around like a mad pony, fighting until the end. The stallion tightened his grip and Risk’s body tensed up. She had let one single moan before her oxygen was cut off and she couldn’t breathe.

It was over in seconds. Her legs grew limp and she fell onto the dock without any resistance. The stallion released her and got quickly to his feet. He stared directly at me now. Never had my bowels been so close on the verge of bursting everything it had.

I lowered my head to show I meant no harm. Slaves on the ship had been conditioned to do so in order to show submission. However, Rant simply stood there speechless. She was looking at the limp Risk with her mouth agape at the sight of her limp sister.

“Sis…” Rant said, paralyzed.

The stallion relaxed his stance. He must have told himself that the two of us weren't going to make a move on him. He then sighed and gave Rant a sympathetic look. “She’ll be fine, lass,” he took a moment more for a breath and wiped some sweat off his forehead. “She’s a hell of a filly. I’ll give her that.”

“Mother Celestia...” Crackle whimpered. He was still alive, damn it. I could see that he was cringing in lots of pain. “Aw, piss…!”

The stallion slowly walked over and stood above Crackle, tilting his head. “What's broken?” He asked. Was this stranger about to help him? Weren’t they at each other’s throat a few seconds ago? I thought to myself.

“My damn shoulder. AGH, sakes alive!”

“You got any potions on yourself?”

“In the saddlebags, EGH...!” Crackle moaned. Risk must have outright shattered Crackle's shoulder when she tackled him onto the planks. She must have given the tackle her all.

“Aye,” The stallion replied. He shot a glance toward Rant and me. I was standing alone while Rant went over and knelt by Risk, making sure that she was still breathing. After making doubly sure we weren't going anywhere, the stallion started to dig into one of Crackle's saddlebag.

“You're also going to need a splint for that shoulder of yours,” the stallion commented.

“Fuck that I do,” Crackle replied in his usual self-dependent mentality.

“I don't want you to be bitching when you're busy taking me to Lancer about how your arm’s broke, and I'm positive that you don't want to be squealing like a foal either. Consider this favor, huh?”

“Fine, fine,” Crackle had given into all the pain and logic, not something he was usually accustomed to. He tried pointing a hoof to show the stallion where the bandages were. “The bandages are in--”

“The saddlebag, aye. I'm seeing it all in here,” The stallion said.

“Ergh...” Crackle closed his eyes. He was completely helpless, totally vulnerable. The stallion still hadn’t gotten a potion out yet. How could it take this long, I thought.

I looked over at the stallion and watched over his every move. It doesn't take this long to find a potion in Crackle’s saddlebag. I should know.

The stallion then looked up and we met each others' stare. He smirked, to which I could only tilt my head in embarrassment and confusion. He turned back to the saddlebag and took out a potion and hung it out in front of Crackle's face.

“Drink up, mate,” the stallion said.

“Heh. Thank you,” Crackle said back. I never knew I would ever hear that statement from him. I was perplexed. This was a side of Crackle I had not seen before. He was being thankful for once. Not only that but he was letting a total stranger tend to his wounds. Never once would he be caught in such a weak and yielding position. And yet, here he was. Pain makes a slave out of any pony, I thought.

While stuck in mid-thought, the stallion took something else out of the bag and I didn't catch what it was.

“Now, you're going to have to roll over so I make the splint,” the stallion stated plainly.

“Right, right,” the old Crackle snarl came back to life, “quit treating me like a damn newborn.”

Crackle rolled onto his back and went onto his other side. His shoulder was already beginning to swell up, it had become a mix between a red blister and sickish purple bruise.

“Damn,” the stallion said, thoroughly impressed, “She really did put a number on you.”

“She got the drop on me. Never would have bloody happened at all if I saw her coming. I would have plowed her stupid muzzle in. And, boy, when this leg heals, I'll do just that,” Crackle sounded like he was brimming with vengeance. If it wasn't for his handicap, he would be throttling Risk to a worse extent than what the stallion had done. And if Crackle didn't recover soon enough, he would probably have some other pony do it.

And surely Rant would be caught in the thick of it. She would willing throw herself into the line of fire to save her sister. She would even want to die alongside her. In the end, I would be alone. No doubt that some kind of punishment would await, I could only hope it would quick.

One apple for three lives. I now realize that stealing that apple was completely not worth it. At the time, my blasted hungry got the better out of me. It was the pain that did it, the pain of starving, of going another day without a meal. Pain makes a slave out of any pony.

I looked toward the ground in regret. Celestia take me up to great skies above. I don't deserve to live a moment longer. I'm just a thief who has no regard for the lives of his friends. My only friends. Now here they are, waiting for their due appointments with the reaper pony. All I did was help in speeding up the schedule. I wish I could have--

“Hey, what are you doing?!”

SPLASH!

I looked up to see that Crackle wasn't on the dock anymore. The stallion was looking over edge and as hooves were poking out of the water. It was Crackle’s hooves, he was trying to get his head above the water. The stallion sprinted toward me and pushed me onto the dock.

There was one brief shout for help before the dock shook in one big jerk. It was a muffled explosion, shooting water up into the air and showering it all over us and the dock. That was followed by a brief sprinkling of drops tapping on the water’s surface. Then there was silence.

The stallion got up off of me and peeked over the edge.

“What in Luna’s name was that?” Rant blurted out at the stranger. She was holding her ears which must have been ringing, mine definitely were.

The stallion ignored her, instead he glanced around at the surrounding fog with his ears alert. We must have been farther away from whatever that blast was, as the ringing slowly dissipated into the sounds of the salt water splashing up against the wooden beams. I moved to the edge of the dock to find that a slush of red was floating where Crackle was originally drowning. I looked at this scene for a few moments longer until I realized, this stranger blow Crackle up!

“Time to go,” the stallion said. I turned around to see that he had put his hat back on and he had ran over to the still unconscious Risk, throwing her over his back.

“Hey, let go of her!” Rant yelled. She was going to go after him but she ended up clasping her ears again and falling over, moaning.

The stallion saw this and then looked at me and said, “Lad. Grab your friend and get her on the boat.”

I couldn’t register what he had said. I just stood there, unable to move, as I had many times before. I didn’t know what to do.

“Lad, look at me!”

I was snapped out of my trance and stared back at him. He had maroon eyes that were of both fiercity and delicacy. His voice demanded attention without being brutal nor unforgiving. In hindsight, he saved us from somepony who was bound to kill us one of these days. I focused on him.

“Trust me,” he said. All the world around me seemed to grind to a halt. In the midst of chaos, I had to make a decision that may or may not have been the best but it had to be made all the same. I couldn’t think of all the possibilities, of what could possibly happened and what the better options were. I only had what was in front of me: my friends, the dock, and this stranger--and Celestia, if she still deems me valuable enough to save.

A second passed by, and then I made my decision.

I nodded to the stallion and ran to Rant who was struggling to get back onto her hooves. I lifted a leg of hers over my shoulder and began to move her toward the boat.

“Redondo, what are you-- AGH!” Her grip around my neck tightened and I had to pull more of her weight as she was starting to fall back down. Not being the most strongest pony ever meant that I had to rely purely on adrenaline alone to get Rant to the boat.

Just before I was about tumble inside the dinghy with her, I looked up at the fog around me and thought, was today really supposed to be a sunny day?

About half an hour later, we ended up sailing out of the harbor and went into Horseshoe Bay. Not much said between any pony on the dinghy. This was due both to the fact that we didn’t want to make much noise to attract attention to ourselves and the fact that we were in the dinghy of a stallion who just killed a pony--even if that pony was one of the worst.

Risk had also awoken after we left the harbor, and all of her animalistic rage had left her. The twin sisters embraced yet never spoke to each other or asked the other if they were okay. They needed no words, just the moment.

Still, Rant was constantly aching from the non-stop ringing in her ears, so the stallion offered her painkillers. And after minutes of constant back-and-forth between him and Rant about whether or not she could trust him that the pills wouldn’t simply kill her, she took them. She eventually passed out due to the overwhelming amount of excitement we just had. Rant slept on Risk’s side, seeing how there wasn’t anything else soft to sleep on.

We had been continuing eastward, out of the bay, when the stallion had stopped rowing and looked to the fog with contemplation. He broke the silence by saying, “The bastard had it coming.”

“You m-mean, Crackle had it c-c-coming?” I asked.

“Of course, lad. That pony was a prick. What more is there to say?” The stallion said as he leaned up against the end of the dinghy.

I didn’t know how to respond. While I did agree with him, I was still shocked by the nature in which these events had all occurred. I looked over at Risk and she just sat there, petting Rant’s head and occasionally scouting out the fog for dangers. She was paying this conversation no mind--at least, she was trying not to.

No matter, a flurry of questions had spawned inside of me and I had to unleash them. However, my stutter followed suit, “Wh-wh-why did he have it coming? And if he did, why d-d-didn’t you just let Risk k-kill him? She could have done it, she--”

I saw Risk shoot a death glare at me. I squeaked and took that as a hint to stop talking, slumping into my seat. I should have remembered that Risk loathed anypony to speak for her--except for Rant, of course. I thought about shutting my mouth for good then and there, considering that I had done enough to harm to my friends to last the rest of their lives.

The stallion saw this but chose not to comment on it. Instead, he leaned forward and looked at me curiously. “Because, lad, there’s a difference between a slave killing a pony and a pirate killing a pony,” he said.

“Well, that doesn’t mean that--” I was in the middle of saying until my brain finally recognized that one word he said: pirate.

“W-w-w-wait. You’re a pirate?!” I jumped in my seat.

Risk turned to the stallion, not with the same terrified expression as I but with a curious raised eyebrow.

The stallion stood up, took off his hat and bowed. “Shady Sands of the Wildstyle, at your service.”

I knew what that ship, the Wildstyle, was. I knew what her crew was notorious for doing: pillaging and plundering all along the eastern Equestrian seaboard. Any ship was fair game to their cannons and cutlasses.

Shady Sands. I couldn’t be anymore terrified at hearing that name. For that was the name of the ship’s captain. And here he was, standing before me. No lawbringers or vigilantes have brought this stallion to justice. Most seafarers surrender willingly whenever they see his ship on the horizon, lest they want to worst to happen to them.

And it was at this time that the fog began to evaporate, the sky began to be filled with the colors of the sunrise. Which reminded me of that promise the wind gave me earlier this morning: a bright and sunny day was yet to come. I looked east and there it was, Celestia’s sweet sun peaking over the Coltic Sea and giving the land life through light. A onshore breeze touched my cheek and flew through my mane. What does this all mean, I thought in disbelief. Is this good luck or an omen?

“Aye. Looks like it’s going to be a bright and sunny day, doesn’t it?” Shady commented.

I felt my spine shiver when he said that. This pirate said the exact words my mind thought that wind was telling. No matter how coincidental that may have been, it indoubtably unsettled me. Was I going mad?

I had to think of something else to say. I felt like a tiny radbit in front of a manticore. So I shifted my eyes back to him and began to stutter out nonsense. At least, at the time, it was the best nonsense I could come up with, “D-do you realize that you’re st-st-stealing from Lancer Blackgold?!”

“Aye,” Shady replied, “but being on the high seas, I’ve realized a lot of things, lad.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a steel cylinder case. The case had a symbol on it, a gold bar and lance perpendicular to each other inside of a circle. That was Lancer’s seal and cutie mark. He opened an end of the case and let three scrolls of paper fall out onto his hoof. He then tossed the case overboard.

He rolled out the scrolls onto his seat and began to read them. He then looked at me and asked, “Redondo, is it?”

I nodded my head. “Yes,” I replied.

“You were the ship’s helmsman?”

I started to panic at the thought that he had taken our slave papers from Crackle while he was looking in his saddlebag. “Yes, sir,” I said nonetheless, trying not to look completely petrified.

“And Risk and Rant here worked the mainsails?”

Rant didn’t acknowledge him, she just simply looked down at her sister and stroked her mane.

I had to answer for her. “Yes, they do,” I said.

“No wonder why you were treated with such grace. By the way, I overheard what that babbling maniac was saying before I rowed up on the scene.”

So he was in the fog the entire time, just waiting for a chance to cause mayhem? That’s a comforting thought.

“Also, you’re in the wrong tense, Redondo,” Shady said as he shook his head and crumpled up the scrolls of paper into wads. “They ‘did’ work for Lancer’s mainsails. They no longer do.”

“Wh-what?” I asked with my mouth wide open. “How can y-y-you say such a thing? Are you st-stealing us from him? Lancer’s our master!”

At that moment, Shady took the wads of paper into his hooves and swiftly threw them into the water.

“Wha--”

“Now the ocean’s your master, lad” he said as he leaned against the end of dinghy again. “Oh, and don’t look now but my mates are coming to pick us up now,” he raised a hoof and pointed off in the distance toward a sailing frigate heading in our direction.

It had black sails and its wood was that of a darkened bark with red painted trims around its many cannon openings in both its front and sides. A flag was raised up the mast, it was of a pony’s skull with two bones making the shape of an ‘x’ behind it. The entire presence of that ship screamed of chaos and death, and it was heading straight for us.

“I… I… I…” was the only thing that was coming out of my mouth. My very life and existence had changed in the matter of a single morning. I never knew what it was like to be free, if you could call this ‘being free.’ I was absolutely frightened and confused and with nowhere to go. Is this what it’s like to be free, I thought to myself.

Shady only sighed and peered at sky as I was about to start hyperventilating. Risk paid me no mind and was busy tending to Rant. I was with three other ponies, two of which were my friends, and I have never felt so alone.

“Wh-wh-wh-wh…” I was trying to ask Celestia why this was happening, when Shady interrupted my plea for salvation.

“Do you know about Shady Sands’ Shuffle, lad?”

“The what…?” I asked back. I wasn’t at first able to articulate what he said due to the overwhelming sense of doom that had overwhelmed my mind.

“Shady Sands’ Shuffle. Well, I should I really call it ‘my’ shuffle since--”

“Shady Sands’ Shuffle?” I repeated saying the name.

“Aye,” Shady chuckled. “Though, it’s patented. Which actually entails that you owe me ten caps.”

“T-t-ten caps?”

Was the captain of the Wildstyle, the most feared pirate vessel in the east, trying to scam me for cash? I was utterly dumbfounded. Wasn’t this stallion supposed to be the scourge of the seas, not just some cheapskate?

“One of the rules is: unless you’ve done the shuffle yourself, you have to pay to use the name.”

“Th-th-there are rules?! What kind of craziness is that?”

“Want me to recite all of them?”

I shook my head, still flabbergasted. “What is Shady Sands’ Shuffle anyway?” The utter rubbish of the situation was actually starting to get me mad. What so-called ‘shuffle’ in all of Celestia’s green earth could possibly so grand that you would have pay caps in order to--

“Twenty caps, you owe me now.”

Oh, right. Bugger me, I cursed myself.

Shady sat there with a smile of triumph while I straightened up in my seat and tried to look at him with what’s left of my dignity--and sanity. A few moments passed before Shady deemed it long enough for the shame to have sunken into my soul before continuing on.

“It’s what did in that Crackle of yours,” he started off saying. “It takes a little bit of pickpocketing, a little bit of luck, and a whole lot of finesse.”

“I d-d-don’t understand,” I said. Truly, I had no idea what he was talking about.

“It’s called a ‘shuffle’ for a reason,” he said as he pulled out a healing potion and held it out in front of him.

“It’s not about what you’re taking away from the poor bastard,” Shady reached into another one of his coat pockets and pulled out a grenade, holding it with his other hoof. “It’s about what you’re giving ‘em as replacement.”