Ser Vincent skulked along the forest edge, eyes peering deeply in and with a worn satchel hanging by his side. It was midday, meaning that the sun was out and he was relatively easy to see. The earth was drying, water vapour carrying the aroma of lush undergrowth even through his mask. Fortunately not many Ponyvillians (a crude but sufficient label for the locals, he thought) walked along the overgrown path, though the same could not be said for one or two jogging couples. He paid them no attention and they pretended to do the same. Tartar barbs grew like thistles and nettles in this fringe of the forest, their blue seeds a key component to his mystical bandages – they were the reason for the sapphire flecks of soothing magic and the reason for his presence.

And under the noon sun they bloomed daily. He would see these wisps of aqua and blue rise and fall from the cruel looking plants, like beckoning pixies dancing around this thorned miracle. It fed through both photosynthesis and arcanesynthesis: it converted light and rural, background magic into sustenance and nutrition. He learned of their presence through Zecora, a slight deviation from gathering poison joke but one he was fine with.

There! He stepped into the forest with rustling grass and leaves beneath his boots, his coat almost making him melt into the surroundings. The tartar barbs were clustered and a knotted mess. Stalks and roots strangled the competition amidst the undergrowth. He squatted before the mesh of barbs and razor leaves, unafraid of any sharp flora breaching his layers of clothing. Ser Vincent flipped open the satchel by his side, glancing in to remove sealable plastic bags, tweezers and other instruments of extraction.

A gallop of hooves drew attention from ahead, too quick to be a biped. Instantly he sprung up and searched the trees for the source deep within. He raised his arms before him, three-digited gloves flexing to strike like cobra fangs. Something was charging at him and it was disturbing his alone time. No mission, no ponies, just him, some plants, and plans for an afternoon of alchemy.

At the shine of a white pelt he tensed, lowering his stance. At the panicked yelp he tilted his hooded head. At the heart shaped eye-patch covering the left eye he reached recognition. At the shimmer of gold horns in the sunlight he exhaled. Stan, the large peace antelope bound between the trees at incredible speed, practically teleporting between the backs of birches whenever he disapeered from Ser Vincent’s sight. That is, until the distressed buck clipped a cruel root a few feet away from the knight.

With a shrill shriek of pain and fear, Stanley tripped and bowled over himself. “Impressive as ever, Stan,” Vincent remarked before one-hundred pounds of buck slammed into him. He was prepared to grapple with a beast, his stance perfect for using his would-be predator’s weight against it. Though his hands struck quicker than wronged union members, his grip sturdier than stone, he allowed himself to be moved by the furry projectile.

He took the blow to protect the rampaging antelope. He was knocked back into a roll, the golden antler tucked under the chin of his mask. Stan writhed as the world inverted and reverted, groaning when both parties slid onto the fading path.

“Let’s see what’s got you worked up, shall we?” Ser Vincent gently pushed the beast off him as quick as he was able too. Something had the antelope scared and may have been pursuing him. He peered into the woods but found that Stan, even whilst scrambling to all fours, was nipping at his gloves.

“What?” After getting a solid hoofing, the eye-patched buck moaned at him and backed into the forest. It made four shaky steps before glancing back, groaning again and turning. “In there?” Ser Vincent pointed deeper into the woods and was met with Stan standing on his hind legs and nipping the pointing finger. With a tight grip he tried to drag the knight deeper in but the human didn’t budge. His hooves slipped and scrapped as Stanley attempted in vain to move Ser Vincent. He’d have better luck pulling a mountain with just a yoke.

“Stop it.” Stan released the knight. Vincent flexed his spittle-soaked glove, flicking off a bit of saliva. His words were stern, commanding, “Lead the way.” Ser Vincent then followed the friendly yet strange, half-blind creature that was Stanley the peace antelope into the woods.

Deeper into the woods brought more humidity and an abundance of forest aromas and symphonies; drying mud, a few blossoming bushes, numerous bird calls, and dung in certain places, all subtle nuances caught in a passing breeze under the heavy scent of undergrowth. He was lead to a fallen tree that seemed to be swallowed by the earth after breaking split in two. He spied the remnants of a burrows under the upped roots, parts of a tunnel system now exposed for all to see. Ser Vincent approached warily, half in caution of edge of the large hole and half because Stan still seemed distressed. He yelped and scratched at the lip of the hole, impatiently pacing the threshold as the knight stepped over a thick fallen branch.

“Something down there?” Had the antelope lost a friend? Stan called back in that dull moan of his, pawing at the edge with his hoof. Ser Vincent kept his masked gaze to the surroundings as he neared the hole. He remembered the last time he was came into this forest and wasn’t prepared to drop his guard, even if he wasn’t as deep in as before.

He stood at the edge, loose rock and dirt rolling into the abyss-like hole. The tree seemed to be burrowed canopy first. Stan attempted to peak by the knight’s side but reared back when the earth crumbled at the lip.

It was too dark and so Ser Vincent pulled out a small wind light, the gemstone green, perfectly spherical and with a bundle of string wrapped around. It was as strange set up; moderately skilled alchemy craft was at work and here it was tied down by wound up twine. Simple but effective, like wearing a pony outfit to make other’s think you were a pony, he supposed.

He unwound enough of the string and left the malachite crystal orb exposed. He then swung it over his head to get the magic activated before lowering it into the hole. Deeper and deeper in went until, at the bottom, something large caught his eye. In the brightness of the aqua glow, a body lay. A pony’s.

Pale wings poked out the back of a dark hoody, the Equine legs had shorts with the legs wrapped up half-way along the thigh, the hooves tipped with short blue boots. A rose-petal pink mane and tail were splayed out in disarray, covering the hip, and the bunny ears atop the hoody were bent and soiled.

“Hello?!” Ser Vincent called down, unslinging his collection bag. A small white rabbit then bound into view far below and stopped atop the stomach of the pony. It hopped on the spot, waving it paws and squeaking. “Move. I’ve coming down.”

He dropped the gem light – they were, relatively speaking, easy to make for one of his calibre -- flooding the pit with aqua light. He heard it dink and bounce as he glanced back to Stan who had taken a seat on his haunches behind the knight. His ears wilted as he met the jade eyes of the knight. “Good find.” That earned a snort and then a whine.

Ser Vincent then stepped close to the edge, gazing down as he studied directly below. He knew exactly how to get this pony out. He simply needed to prepare himself and be quick. Now, Ser Vincent was never truly capable of activating his magic; it was an instinctive brand of magic that twisted him to be more and less human as he grew in the womb. He couldn't focus and trigger it as unicorns did and it wasn’t as passive as an earth pony’s strength was. All he had learnt he could do was control and stop it from activating.

He could, however, put himself in a position where fear played with his instinct and could potentially lead to an adrenaline rush. From there he could allow magic to rush through his body, usually with a mild case of heart burn at the start. What was one of Ser Vincent’s fears? What struck terror into the kind of knight that wrestled with house-tall timber wolves?

He scanned the underground pit for any debris and found nothing that would cause harm. Then, with a deep breathe, he looked to the sky, craning his head up. And slowly, bold in step but with heart racing in dreadful anticipation… Ser Vincent jumped in.

As he felt the rush of air take him, surging through the little spaces and crevices of his armour and coat, he saw the sky become almost swallowed by the earth. He felt a primal part of him cry out for footing beneath his boots, its scream racing down and chilling his spine, aching for a floor he couldn’t see coming but knew was. His heart fluttered and overworked for a fleeting moment that lasted five times longer than it actually was, and with that, Ser Vincent felt his magic awaken.

A groggy, little, barely worthwhile speck of magic awoke. Vincent felt it whenever something mundane startled him, such as a pegasus flying close, quick and low over head, and he’d learnt to allow it to rest and return to being dormant. He had also learnt how to spur this ember into a blaze of magic; he gripped it and felt a rush surge throughout his core as adrenaline began to course through his arteries. They worked in tangent; whenever he had adrenaline in his blood he had magic and vice versa.

He landed hard, shocked literally and figuratively, and scanned the area with a golden aura flowing from the eyes of the mask. The wind light was a longer lasting variety so he’d have little concern about that. The aqua glow simply became a plain light, his vision switching to focus on anything that moved, such as the two brown rabbits that bound over to their friend and the still pony. At this point in the rush his mind worked faster and the world seemed slower. He could see the muscle of those hind legs shift under the chocolate fur.

Quickly he moved towards the fallen pony, reaching into a belt-fixed pocket to retrieve a red, corked vial no bigger than his thumb. He placed it to the side as he knelt before them, the larger bunny hopping off as the knight cradled the head.

When he moved the hooded head to look at the face the fur burst to life with colour; her butterscotch coat was hardly dusted with dirt, a droplet of crimson seeped from her nostril, the rosy mane fell over one of her closed eyes, and he recognised the soft, sweet features of the mare. The cutie mark on her hip was also a big give away. It was Miss Fluttershy! And… she was wearing a rabbit hoody with a belt with squared pockets like his but blue.

“Fluttershy!” he shouted, his voice clear and bouncing in the small space. He gave her a gentle shake. “Miss Fluttershy! Wake up!” That stirred a meek mewl from her, eyes tightening shut, ears falling under her hood. He grabbed the red vial and popped the cork, placing his thumb over the lip and giving it a good shake. He placed the vial under her nose and removed his thumb. She stirred to life as scarlet fumes touched her olfactory sense, teal eyes fluttering open before closing again. Angel, for he assumed the dove-white, animated bunny was the one from when he first met her, hopped next to him, thumping the knight with his foot for attention.

“She’ll wake up shortly, but for now, let’s get her to the hospital.” He assumed that was what the aggressively worried bunny wanted to know, and it must have been as Angel then backed off. “Now let us leave this place.”

She’d awake in time but that was short. His half-tamed magic was a rush after all, and though he could prolong it, he could not maintain indefinitely. He would do what he set out to do whilst he still could. He scooped her up in his arms, supporting her head and minding her unfolded wings. He took a few steps back from the fallen tree trunk buried down there, scanning the ground for a few of the branches that had fallen. When he closed his eyes the glow left the mask. After sucking in a lungful of air he opened his eyes, two brilliant braziers of golden light exploding from the twin eye-holes of the mask. Vincent then charged towards the trunk.

He leapt at its mid-point and landed a solid boot. The knight's weight shifted as he spun around on the spot, feeling his center of gravity shift and spin in the slowed, fleeting moment. His balance was impeccable with heightened reflexes and agility but he was losing it. With all his strength in his legs he launched himself up and out of the hole.

Angel stared up, brows raised. He’d never seen a pony do that kind of thing that didn’t have wings like his carer-slash- servant-slash-master, and yet, this one practically took off! He also smelt like… nothing. Those eyes too! He knew ponies couldn’t do that with their eyes. It did bother the perpetually frowning rabbit but not for long seeing as he did rescue his friend. And… left him and his friends trapped down in this hole. With a growl he pulled on his ears, hopping from foot to foot as he friends shirked back, closer to the glowing rock the other pony left behind.

Thump! Angel opened his eyes to see the other pony had returned, looming over the rabbit. He then knelt down, glancing at the rabbits with shimmering, wispy eyes.

“I’ve been informed that you three are to come with me,” Ser Vincent said as he stretched out his arms, “All aboard.”

“You!” The stallion’s voice was curt, fierce, and commanding, “Which way to the hospital?”

“Errr…”

“Sir, please, hurry!” he continued, his voice ragged and out of breath.

“Straight ahead then take the second right out of town, along the paved path!”

“Much obliged!”

Fluttershy stirred to the scent of spice and musk, to a vigorous swaying and a faint rustle of metal. With a small squeak she felt a spike of pain pierce her mind. Her eyes opened to a bright day in Ponyville, not the dark of a pit in the forest. Still half-awakened, she had only just realised she was being carried, her teal stare rising to the masked knight as he ran with her.

“S-s… Vincent?” she managed, drawing his attention.

“Ah, wonderful!” he cheered, “You’re quite the heavy sleeper, Miss Fluttershy.” She felt his form relax as he held her in his strong arms, his speed diminishing to a brisk walk. "Yes, woke up for a moment after getting out of the collapsed burrow, muttered your concerns and then passed out. Had me worried for a moment." He then shook his head. "Ugh, confounded after effects. Always gets me a little bit gobby in the wake of success. Bah! I don't usually like talking when my magic is leaving my body, feel like a blathering idiot."

Her ears twitched beneath the hood to the many voices surrounding them. She then remembered she was wearing her bunny hoody. It was surprisingly comfortable and cute, but the reason it made for one of the few pieces of clothing he owned was because a few of her animal friends liked it.

“It’s him. Where’s he going it Fluttershy?” She heard the onlooker but dared couldn’t manage to turn her head without making the throbbing pain worse.

“What happened to her?”

“Do you think he had something to with it?”

“What?”

“Well… Mrs Cake said she saw him with fangs so…”

“No way! He’s Princess Twilight’s guard and that's one of her best friends…”

She frowned at the meanies in the crowd. It was a good thing that there were also ponies sticking up for Ser Vincent but at the same time she tell they still wanted nothing to do with him. So many ponies were still scared of him, more so now that he had started to protect Twilight so vigilantly. Ow, her head...

“I have to know Miss Fluttershy, what happened?”

His questioning startled her from her thoughts. She looked up to find him tilting his head at her, the only readable sign of curiosity from the knight. “Um, I was helping Angel’s bunny friends move house, err, well, technically burrows.” She winced as the memories came back, breaking through like a chick escaping the egg shell. “They had a really big home and it was weakening the bottom of the dead tree.” She rested against his expanding and contracting chest briefly, deciding that it wasn’t helping her headache.

“I see, but how did the tree split into two? What made it fall?” he asked. He had to keep her talking, to keep her awake. He suspected she might have a concussion. It didn’t make sense for a pegasus not to fly away but one that might have taken a blow to the head from a heavy branch might not have such an option.

“It was pretty weak, I think something hollowed out the middle and lived there for a while. My friends wanted me to help them move out after it nearly fell over yesterday.” She gasped, eyes wide. “Wait, where’s Angel?!”

Ser Vincent stopped momentarily, turning to show what was trailing behind. “He and his friends are perfectly fine.” Stanley was following the knight, tongue lolling out and with the knight’s collection bag hanging from his neck. It was fastened to stop the peace antelope from eating the tartar barbs. Angel and his friends were riding upon Stan’s back, her friend waving at her. “Hmm, I set out for a few ingredients for my bandages and came back with that plus one lost antelope and three fuzzy bunnies.” His tone warmed with mirth after he chuckled, “Or perhaps that’s four rabbits?”

Scarlet burned through her cheeks as Fluttershy tried to hide under her mane automatically, her blush deepening as she felt a rabbit ear fold and touch her nose. “It’s…or talking to…”

“Pardon my teasing, Miss Fluttershy,” he added with a shake of the head. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. I really need to rein myself in until I'm calmed. For what it’s worth it is very befitting, very cute.” That was heart wrenchingly true: she was adorable in the rabbit hoody, despite the disheveled state it was in. He hoped he hadn’t brought down her confidence in anyway.

“T-thank you,” she managed with a sheepish smile.

“I mean it, I don’t wish to dishearten you.” He doubted he could live with the guilt.

She perked up at his words, her blush receding as she tried to raise her head. “No, no, its fine, you didn’t.” Her tail flicked to life, brushing against his coat. He turned to keep walking towards the hospital.

“It’s an interesting piece. I've always wondered what goes into a ponies choice of clothing,” he said, glancing to pony that wore some trendy goggles and a jumper. The poor stallion froze on the spot, Ser Vincent deciding to let his stare linger for the heck of it before looking back to Fluttershy. “For me it’s imperative to my daily life, as you can imagine.”

“Oh, I just like rabbits and my animal friends like it too!” she answered. She nodded to herself, eyes closing, “A lot of animals in the forest also like it because it makes me seem less like a pony, only a little but enough to get them to talk to me.” It was a silly thing but if it helped it helped. For one thing, Mr Manticore was calmer when she wore this. She stopped nodding, blinking before regarding the knight with a strange look.

“I see, then it was hypocritical of me to poke fun at it,” he replied with a slow, deliberate nod.

“So, um, do you always wear all this?” she asked, ears falling under the hood. “I mean if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine but—“

“Yes, I do.” He made his words friendly, as ‘matter-of-factly’ as would sound natural.

“Even in Canterlot?”

“Yes.”

“Did you grow up there?”

“Yes.”

“So when did… what made you…” she trailed off as he tilted his head. She didn’t want to be nosey but at the same time she was curious. She just wanted to keep the conversation going and satisfy her intrigue but maybe she was stepping over a line.”

“I grew up without it, but when I started working as a knight my badge just wasn’t enough for some. See, for a time, you work with a veteran, usually one that’s about to retire in a couple of years. You’re their squire for a while.” He sighed under mask before continuing, melancholy touching his tone, “He always had to vouch for me, which strained my attempts to work alone. In the end he recommended that maybe I should try a disguise.”

He huffed bitterly. “Well, his exact words were put a bag over your head with eye holes.” He felt the burn in his heart vanish after one more breathe-- the magic had gone.

“Oh my, that’s horrible!” Fluttershy said, shocked.

“It worked.” He said with a shrug, earning a squeak from the mare still in his knotted arms. “Took time to get used to; I had to change how I operated, and things changed from there as I learnt how to wear gloves two fingers less, how to use said gloves, to see with a mask, and much more.” He fell silent for a moment. “It worked. Mostly. There’s been times when I’ve lost my mask and everypony’s become scared of me. I don’t mind the bad guys fearing me, that’s a very good thing. It’s natural to listen to the thing that scares you. But ponies like you?” He glanced to the locals that stared back, especially the ones that tried to avert their gazes. “Knight’s don’t scare good ponies and yet I do. But with this I managed to get by for five years. Nopony thought I wasn’t a pony.”

Once more he fell quiet before looking back to her. “Well, they used to. I could go back home to Canterlot after losing my mask in, say, Fillydelphia, but now I’m stuck here.”

“I don’t think you’re scary.” Fluttershy said. He was like Mr. Bear! Very standoffish until he felt comfortable enough to put his guard down. She saw some similarities between her and Ser Vincent, in that both of them hated crowds or being stared at. Or she used too. Maybe not as much? Her friends helped her with that, especially Rainbow Dash. ‘He just needs to stop hiding! Or start looking friendly.’

“I assumed as much when you didn’t leap out of my arms like a…” He trailed off as he regarded her with a skewed glance. “Like a jackrabbit, really.” He chuckled warmly, sincerely, and she returned a soft smile. That is until she realised what was going on.

“Um, Ser Vincent, can you, um, can you put me down?” He stopped as she shrunk beneath her mane again. “I really appreciate that you’ve carried me this far but you must be getting tired.”

“Hardly, but if you think you can manage, Miss Fluttershy then I’ll try it.”

She shakily placed her booted hooves onto the cobblestone street, buttery legs wobbling as she leant onto the knight for support. She beamed down to Stanley when he came to her other side, thanking him and petting Angel.

“Ser Vincent, like I was saying, I don’ think you’re scary and I’m not the bravest pony around.” She looked back up to the knight that gently held her arm. “And if I’m being honest, that mask is scarier than your actual face because I don’t know how you feel about something or-or-or I feel like you’re watching me when you might not be, and-and I feel like you don’t really like wearing it, especially on a hot day like this so maybe you can try… to…”

She clammed up, her resolved dissolving as he stared back cold and statuesque. No emotion for her to read, no signs for her to pick up, nothing – it was truly unpony-like. No ears splayed back or pointed up, no eyes saddened or brow bunched up in anger, no lips pulled up at the cheeks or finishing a crestfallen look. She was looking to a blank void of pure non-emotion and it was thinking and feeling and looking back, all the while hiding it well.

“True, it does get warm, especially in the summer.” He began, patting her arm. “True, this mask can be scary, but most ponies aren’t sacred of it so it’s fine.” He studied the gap between them. “But… something is working. So I won’t be taking off the mask anytime soon.”

“What about indoors?” She asked as the knight lead her forward. “Like, with just me and the girls.” She then felt Angel pull her to keep her upright. Looking to her little friends upon the back of her bigger friend made her realise something important. “Oh, speaking of which, Ser Vincent, if I have to stay the night in hospital, do you mind telling the girls that I might need to stay at the hospital for a few days and that if that happens, could they look after my animal friends for me?”

“Certainly,” the knight quickly replied, glad to have the topic of conversation steer away from him. “I’ll ensure arrangements can be made to look after your friends in your absence, Miss Fluttershy.”

“C-c-can you help them, if you’re not busy doing, um, knightly stuff.”

“I suppose if I am not on duty, away on a mission, nor is anypony else available, then I will gladly assist in looking after the animals as much as I can,” he replied candidly. He leant forward, pointing a gaze towards Stan as the buck tried to chew through the tough collection bag. “Though I suspect all my focus will be on this one.”

Stanley glanced to the knight through his one good eye, releasing the bag and calling to the knight in that dull, loud, happy moan of his.

“Oh, and one more teeny, tiny, little thing,” she said with a soft smile and begging teal eyes.

It left him cautious when he looked down to her but his voice hid it well, “What is it?”

“Can you just call me Fluttershy?”

“Certainly.”