It seemed absurd that under such mounting pressure and with his ever dwindling time frame, Prey would still be expected to attend his therapy sessions with Doctor Clear Mind.

'Soft, weak, disgustingly self-righteous ponies.'

But it was expected, and Prey was forced to attend. He couldn't not go, it was an order from the alicorn ruler of the night. No one knew the tightrope Prey was being forced to walk, no one knew he went to bed exhausted every night from runic creation and woke up even more tired after only a few hours of fitful rest. No one knew.

'Time's running out. It's going to happen soon. It's got to.'

But why would anyone else appreciate the pressure he was under? As far as everyone else knew, Prey spent every day either wandering around Canterlot, visiting the library, or whiling away the hours lounging in his flat. They didn't know.

Crimson was far more everyone's concern at the moment, as they waited to see if the thieves who'd raided Vanhoover would go after him next. Neither Guard force had gotten any more leads. To the best of their knowledge, the thieves had gone to ground.

No one knew. No one knew anything about the secret war Prey was fighting.

Thus, he had no excuse he could offer to get out of having to waste precious time satisfying Clear Mind that he was a recovering patient, time Prey so desperately needed to spend elsewhere.

'Why can't they all just leave me alone?'

Prey sat on the beanbag chair in the Doctor's muted coloured room. Next door somewhere, Crimson was enduring his own therapy session.

Prey was barely paying attention to what Clear Mind was blathering on about. The unicorn was going on about positive thinking, coping mechanisms, and making sure everypony Prey regularly interacted with was made aware. Yeah, right. As if Prey would ever tell anyone. Prey had learned many bitter lessons in many hard schools of life.

"I know it can be hard, but before you go to bed each night, try to think of five things you're thankful for that happened during the day." Clear Mind was trying to encourage Prey.

"Okay." Prey agreed, not listening. 'Lemon said it looks like the tracking tag worked. I need to get to the array as soon as possible to perform the check.'

Clear Mind smiled at Prey's easy acceptance, "It may not seem like such a small thing can make such a big difference, but I can promise you from personal experience that if you try Prey, it really will."

'-first extend the commitment, then promise the reward, and finally personally affirm its worth-'

Prey hummed something which sounded affirmative, meanwhile thinking about how, if he survived this coming fight, he'd have to deal with the bodies. Because there weren't going to be any prisoners. Both sides knew it was a fight to the death.

'Runic incineration would be the easiest. Or bone rot. Feed them to the veropede? Maybe. I do hate the smell of charred flesh. It gets stuck in your wool.'

"A constructive hobby also really helps keep you grounded. Have you tried drawing again? Or perhaps a sport? Hoofball is all the rage for foals your age I'm told. Does your caretaker take you out often?" Clear Mind suggested, leaning forwards on his own bean bag chair.

'I have a hobby. Staying alive.' Prey thought. He made a show of hesitantly thinking it over; "I like making things with my hooves. Maybe knitting or needlework?"

'Or runic deathtraps.'

Perhaps Clear Mind picked up on the hidden insincerity of Prey's words. He was someone who made a living out of picking through people's words, after all. The unicorn frowned lightly at Prey, "Now now Prey, there's no need to lie. If you don't want to do something, then just say so. You've got to be honest and open about your feelings. I know it can sound scary, but if you don't tell anypony, how are they supposed to know to stop? The key is clear communication."

Prey slowly blinked. He'd been looking at Clear Mind, although avoiding eye contact, but now he was really looking at him.

'Clear communication? Alright, how about; I hope you get eaten by a quarry eel and die. In that order. How's that for clear communication?'

What he really said was; "I'll give it a try."

Clear Mind sighed patiently, "You just did it again, Prey. If you don't want to, just say so. Tell me what you really feel. Keeping it all bottled up isn't healthy for anypony."

'Not a pony. Never a pony. Just a second rate runt citizen.' Clear Mind was really working to get under his wool today. Prey was in a race for his life, and here he was, being forced to waste time in this insufferable doctor's presence. It was infuriating.

"Prey," Clear Mind said in that same patient, understanding tone, "Prey, could you look at me please?"

Suppressing his temper, Prey meekly met the unicorn's green eyes. He couldn't help but also flick a glance up at the blunt spiral of Clear Mind's horn.

'-aw, don't give me that look, this is for your own good. It's emotionally unhealthy to compartmentalise at the best of times, but especially for a foal recovering from this type of trauma-'

Clear Mind affixed his best, most sincere and kind smile. He tucked his hooves together and leaned all the way down to Prey's own eye level so he was not looking down at Prey as he spoke:

"I know that you've been hurt, and you suffered things you didn't deserve and I can't imagine what that's like. But I know you can be better, I'm sure of it. You don't have to let the past define you Prey. You're my friend, and I know you can do better if you just try."

Friend? Friend?

When had Clear Mind ever come under the delusion he was Prey's friend? How dare he. How dare he act like he had any idea. To demand Prey change to meet his expectations, as if he had any right.

Ponies were like this, they were always like this! They all acted like they were so much better than you. It wasn't even that they consciously thought it, because they just knew it. With all their wealth and their magic and free special talents and extra long life spans and their sun goddess to shelter them from the rest of the world, they were just better. And then they looked down at you with your hooves in the dirt, and judged you for not having been born on a pedestal like them. They truly believed it was a sign of moral weakness not to be born a pony, and unicorns were the worst of them.

'You tell me to share, and act like you care, but all you want is the pride and praise of solving a complicated puzzle. Another tick box in completing your job.'

Clear Mind said he wouldn't judge, but the moment Prey actually told him any of what'd really happened, he'd call Prey despicable. Clear Mind only thought he was empathetic. Prey knew how it really went, he knew how that earnest smile would wither and the offer of aid would die on his lips.

What did Clear Mind know of being whipped? What did he know of despair and murder? Only what, if anything, he’d read in a textbook.

Prey clenched his teeth together. He could hear the rushing of blood in his ears. No, he'd keep it in. He wouldn't say anything. He'd kept control of his temper in more stressful situations before, he could and would do the same again.

"It'll be okay Prey. You can say what you really feel," Clear Mind coaxed, "It's just the two of us here. Nopony, not your parents, not even Her Royal Majesty needs to know."

Clear Mind was... putting Luna above Gossamer's mother? Saying that Luna was... more important?

Prey looked around the doctor's office. It was just the two of them in here. Prey leaned over the side of his beanbag and picked up a stuffed dog plush toy, one of a number meant for Clear Mind's younger patients. It was nearly a third of Prey's size.

Prey fiddled with it for a moment, then turned the toy dog the right way up and held it out, "Here."

Clear Mind was surprised, but took the soft toy anyways with a smile and carefully held it, '-strange. He's never shown any interest in any of the toys before, not even the toy castle all the foals love, so why now?-'

Prey settled himself comfortably on the beanbag, and smiled at Clear Mind. His eyes and demeanour were soft, just like the rest of Prey's runty lamb appearance.

"Gloom and Crimson, they already told you what happened in Mayflower and Alfalfa Dale, right?"

"I can't discuss other patients' treatment I'm afraid, but Captain Nighthawk of the Night Guard made sure I was appraised of what happened to you." Clear Mind answered.

"So you know about the kindersnatches then. The kidnapped, drugged, and tortured villagers who were forced into becoming unwilling hosts for parasitic dark magic seedlings. And you know how they were driven mad with pain, screaming, unable to die?" Prey asked pleasantly.

Clear Mind gaped at Prey, open mouthed at the complete attitude reversal.

"Did you know how we killed them? They were hostages, and we killed them. I created acidic explosive traps, and melted them alive. The rest were either killed by some horrible and nameless thing in the night, or were eaten alive by a veropede. I suppose there might be a couple of kindersnatches left, wandering around in the forest if something else hasn't gotten them by now. Lost, mad souls."

"I, I, w-what?" Clear Mind spluttered. Prey went right on talking.

"But that was before I sacrificed a pit full of captured and helpless townspeople from Alfalfa Dale. I threw the same veropede into their midst to hatch and feed. Innocent, helpless victims. It was like fish in a barrel. I'm skipping a bit here, but then I confronted the warlock responsible, captured, had my servant essentially mind rape him, before she killed him on my orders."

Clear Mind shuddered. His mouth was dry and his eyes were wide. '-wrong. This is wrong. Wrong wrong wrong-'

The therapist's mind was whirling. Why was there a chill in the air? Why did Prey's words seem so real? There was a bite, an undercurrent to them which got under Clear Mind's skin. And why did it seem like he could feel an echo of those events?

Words weren't supposed to make you feel them. Clear Mind had heard many tragedies over the course of his job, but only second hoof as they were retold to him. No matter how sad or terrible, those things had never happened to him and he could go home safe in the knowledge they wouldn't happen either.

They were just words. Words couldn't hurt you.

If someone came up and told you they'd seen a dead body, that wasn't terrifying. It might be disturbing, especially if they went into detail, but no matter how good their description, you hadn't personally seen the body. It wasn't real to you. You didn't have to deal with the nightmares, because it hadn't happened to you.

Words were just words.

'-but I can feel it. Something's wrong, what's happening?-', Clear Mind was frozen on his beanbag. He tried to move.

"Ah-ah ah," Prey waggled his hoof reprovingly at the stallion, "You wanted me to open up. You wanted me to talk, so now you get your wish. You get to hear about the rotten blood, the stomach curdling gore, the constant gnawing fear so bad you can't sleep, only fall unconscious. What's wrong? Oh, I get it. You didn't realise this was all real, did you?"

"No no, t-that's not what I thought at all-"

"Good! Because I've barely even skimmed the surface. Next, I want to tell you all about a zebra named Snake."

Clear Mind was trying to hide his shivering. The stuffed dog toy was clutched between his hooves, as if he were the foal seeking comfort. Prey still lay on his beanbag, coldly observing the therapist. He wasn't smiling anymore.

It was only through fear Clear Mind kept the disgust from his face. Fear of Prey. He was just a runt lamb, but Clear Mind was a pony who'd never raised a hoof against anyone in his whole life. He was staring at Prey like one might a deadly venomous snake, one which might strike at any moment strike without provocation.

'-despicable, horrible, foul evil! This isn't a foal, it's not a person, it's evil incarnate!-'

It was the exact reaction Prey had known he would get. 'Why'd I even try telling him all that, then? I already knew, so why'd I even try?'

Prey didn't feel vindicated or proven right. He only felt hollow and bitter.

Everyone was always telling him if he opened up and actually told his story, it would get better, that it would help. He hadn't believed it, but everyone kept telling him that. Perhaps part of him had just wanted to give it a try.

"You think I'm a monster. That I'm evil. Utterly unforgivable." Prey stated flatly.

Clear Mind swallowed and wet his lips, but when he spoke, it still came out a croak, "No no, not at all. I'm the one who wanted to know. It's, it's my job to hear this."

Prey eyed him, not fooled for a second. "You think I need to be banished to the moon, imprisoned under an inactive volcano and the key thrown away. You want me to disappear and cease to exist. Or better yet, to have never existed at all."

"Not at all, I assure you. Everyp-everyone deserves a second chance." The unicorn was shivering, sweating now as he desperately lied through his teeth.

Prey let out a bark of fake laughter, "Ha! As if. The moment you escape from this room, you're going to gallop as fast as your legs can carry you to the nearest Guard you can find, and tell them everything."

"No no! I won't, I won't!" Clear Mind cried, wide eyed and terrified. '-buck buck buck how does he know?-'

"How do I know? I can read your thoughts. I never got around to that bit of the story, but it was before..." Prey trailed off, "Why am I even telling you this? It's not like it matters. You aren't going to tell anyone."

"No! I swear I won't, I promise, I swear on my life I won't tell anypony! You don't have to do this. Don't kill me!"

Clear Mind tried to leap up, tried to run. But his limbs wouldn't move. '-what'd he do to me? What'd he do?!-'

Clear Mind reached for his magic, thinking of blasting Prey away despite him not knowing any actual attack spells. He tried to grab Prey with his telekinesis, hit him, push him, crush him, anything to keep him away. But none of the unicorn's magic responded to him.

Clear Mind started crying he was so scared, a grown stallion, great hiccuping sobs. "W-why? Why can't I? W-Wt's?"

He was shivering with cold. Cold and scared. Cold and scared and hungry.

Clear Mind could only jerkily lower his head to look down at the stuffed toy he still clutched. The blue ribbon, the one he'd always previously seen behind the lamb's ear was now tied around the dog plushie. He hadn't seen it there before. He hadn't noticed Prey tie it on. But now he couldn't let go of it. He couldn't let go!

Clear Mind's teeth began to chatter. His face was turning a pallid grey. '-it's cold. Cold cold, what's happening to me? I'm hungry, cold, cold, please let go let go letgoletgo-'

Prey got off his beanbag and walked over. He stared into the unicorn's glazed eyes. Even with Clear Mind prone on the beanbag, and Prey standing, the doctor was still just above Prey's eye level.

'Why did I try this?' Prey asked himself again. Why did he bother trying to talk? He'd always known how it would end. He'd just wanted to hurt Clear Mind.

'I could keep on hurting him too.' Prey thought.

He was going to erase Clear Mind's memory. Right from the beginning, the unicorn had never, ever been going to tell anyone about this, which was the only reason Prey had told him his story in the first place. Some of his story anyway. The soft coward had buckled before Prey even got halfway through the retelling.

'But I could hurt him a bit more first.' Prey thought.

It was all too tempting. Hurt Clear Mind. Hurt him. Hurt him, and make the world fairer.

'No.'

No, this was dumb. This was all a stupid risk. He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have risked telling anyone. What if someone were to barge into the room right now?

'What am I doing?' Prey thought in shock, taking a step back, 'What am I doing?! This is so stupid, so unnecessarily risky.'

He stared at the silk ribbon. Why had he hoofed it over? That was his. He would have snatched it back, if that wouldn't have freed Clear Mind.

With an angry hiss, Prey reached out and grabbed hold of the disgusting unicorn's leg, "Don't resist."

The world faded into ashen grey and Prey's mental mindscape, superimposed over Clear Mind's mental landscape. The doctor's mindscape looked a lot like a blobby, undefined version of the very office they were in. Except there was something wrong with it. It was shaking and trembling, slowly breaking down. But as per Prey's order, he couldn't resist.

'Good.'

Prey reached out with his mind, his grey mindscape unravelling long tendrils which stabbed down into the unicorn's mindscape below.

'Not so clear minded now, are you?'

Prey took everything of the last half an hour, every bit of memory, and destroyed it. Not suppressed it, but utterly destroyed it. He wasn't leaving a job half finished to somehow be undone in the future.

In the newly hollowed out space, Prey left behind a false memory showing him just sitting unresponsive on the beanbag for the whole of their therapy session, refusing to answer any of Clear Mind's questions.

Prey could've crafted a memory showing a conversation instead, him making progress to satisfy Clear Mind, but he didn't. He was in a hurry. He just wanted this erased.

Plus, Clear Mind being in contact with the ribbon really wasn't good for the stallion's health.

Nevertheless, it wasn't out of any concern for Clear Mind that Prey hurried.

Right now, Clear Mind was at serious risk of permanent damage. And if that occurred, concerned people would start looking into how the damage had happened. They wouldn't find any physical cause, so next they'd check magically, and they just might find evidence of mind tampering. That would prove disastrous for Prey.

'Another reason this was such a stupid risk to take.' Prey berated himself.

He finished up as fast as he could, and snatched his ribbon back. The silk was cold, almost bitingly cold as he retied it hurriedly behind his ear. Clear Mind sat there like a statue, unresponsive, only breathing.

Prey sent him a last glower, 'Serves you right for asking what you had no right to know and no ability to handle. Utterly pathetic.'

The phantom crawling sensation started up in the back of Prey's mind as the ribbon settled back into place, back where it belonged. But it was fine, it was his ribbon, and he was used to it.

Prey gave Clear Mind's beanbag a light kick. Clear Mind jerked, blinking around rapidly. "Wh-Oh, pardon me. I seem to have dozed off for a second."

'-how did I do that? I wasn't even tired. Although I am very hungry-'

"Don't worry about it." Prey muttered, rubbing tiredly at the faint scarring under his eyes. Thank goodness the session was almost over. Just a few more minutes, and he could get out.

Clear Mind rubbed at his forehead, finding he had a headache and his horn hurt. And he was still ravenously hungry. "Well, I, err, hope I didn't miss too much, Prey. Where were we? I just, err..."

'-I don't feel so good. I think I'll sign off sick after Prey's session. Gosh, I hope I haven't picked up something nasty-'

"Well, I think we're about done for today. We've made more excellent progress, and I'm very happy with what you've achieved Prey. Just remember to keep up the good work." Clear Mind declared, deciding to cut the session short since they were almost done anyway.

Clear Mind followed Prey out back into the reception area, shutting his office door. The softly coloured reception area, with its magazine table and padded chairs, was nearly empty apart from a seated stallion obscured behind a newspaper, and the receptionist.

"Hey Sally," Clear Mind called as he headed for said receptionist's desk, "Sorry about this, but I think I'm going to have to go home. I've suddenly come down with something."

Prey barely listened to the receptionist's sympathetic response. His attention had been snatched by the seated and obscured stallion. The stallion's coat and messily cropped tail were a muddy shade of unflattering green. Unfamiliar. Not a colour he knew.

But Prey couldn't hear the stallion's thoughts.

Slowly, the stallion lowered the newspaper. He was an earth pony, wearing a thick waistcoat and a wide brimmed hat. Prey recognised the face, but the fur colouring was all wrong. However he still immediately knew who it was.

Strange Happenstance.

Prey almost choked. How had the private detective gotten in here? Why was he the wrong colour? How'd he found out Prey would even be here at this time?

'Did he hear? Was he listening in at the door? Zoma'Grika. Oh Zoma'Grika und hez'crash und krecaw!' Prey started to mentally curse in zebrican, 'Did he hear what I told Clear Mind?!'

Why had he said anything? Why hadn't he just kept his damned mouth shut and stonewalled the stupid doctor!?

Strange Happenstance's face gave nothing away as he held Prey's eye. Slowly, the stallion lifted an open, scuffed brass stopwatch. Prey caught a glimpse of the watch's face, a second hand rapidly counting down backwards, then the detective flicked the watch shut with a little snap. The drab green colouring of his fur and tail rapidly faded back to the mud brown Prey recognised.

Clear Mind was still talking to Sally at the desk, neither of them noticing the standoff happening behind them.

Prey felt like he was fighting to keep his head above water. It was just one event after another in a never ending barrage. 'But merely kicking isn't swimming.'

"Sargent Gloom is going to be out here in only a few minutes. He'll arrest you if you're still here." Prey said flatly, going straight on the attack.

Unphased, Strange Happenstance calmly tucked the battered stopwatch into a pocket, "Nice try. But you know what I keep hearing up at the Guard Compound? 'Dusky Gloom is on indefinite leave.' Your Sargent's got no authority over me while he's off duty."

Prey couldn't discern anything from the stallion's carefully measured tone about what he might've gleaned or what he might even now be hiding. Prey's hoof itched to reach up to touch the comforting silk of his ribbon, "This is harassment and stalking. You've already been ordered to cease and desist by the Captain of the Night Guard. That's an offence by itself."

"Nope. I'm just here for a private appointment with my therapist. Anypony can pay for an appointment, it's a public business after all. How was I to know you also used this place? It's all just pure coincidence." Strange said, lazily tilting his hat back.

A blatant lie.

“That’s your opinion. Think Captain Nighthawk will share it?”

Prey's head was humming. What could the private detective hope to learn here? Steal or coerce information out of the doctors about the ISND's sessions? But why then reveal himself to Prey at all?

'He's threatening me,' Prey realised, 'He's deliberately doing this to intimidate me.'

What was the stallion's real goal? What was he planning for Prey? Was he really even a stallion at all, or a mimic? Or what if he was with the thieves, or the thieves were using him? That had been a disguise artifact Strange had so blatantly displayed just now. Was that the unspoken threat?

No, no. The thieves already knew his face. If they could find him like this, they would've already tried to kill him. They and the diamond dogs were here for blood, and weren't going to stop until they got it.

Once again Strange Happenstance had blindsided Prey and left him scrambling, re-evaluating all over again whether the pony actually really was a mimic or something else.

'Damn it. Damn it. Damn it all.'

Prey wanted to kill Strange Happenstance. He wanted to kill him right here, right now. Everyone was threatening and pushing Prey from every side, and now the private detective arrogantly thought he could get in on the action. It made Prey want to snap and kill him for being right.

But he couldn't. Prey knew he'd never get away with it. But he seriously considered it.

Strange Happenstance was still coolly looking Prey over. Barely five seconds had passed, and none of this answered the question: Had Strange overheard what Prey said back in the office? Or was this all a bluff?

"Say..." Strange Happenstance began thoughtfully, "You being here at the therapists wouldn't have anything to do with Private Lilly Blossom's condition, would it?"

Of course! That's right, Strange had been contacted by Lilly's parents.

"I cannot confirm or deny any speculations." Prey immediately responded.

"So it does have something to do with it."

Prey hated that arrogant satisfaction in Strange's face. But it was what Prey wanted the stallion to think, he'd answered like that on purpose. 'Let Strange think he's discovered something. It was nothing but an open secret anyway.'

"Speaking of Private Lilly Blossom of the Night Guard, she's not at her registered address. Neither has she returned to the hospital." Strange gave Prey a meaningful look.

"So what?"

"So I don't suppose you know where her concerned parents might be able to get in contact with her?"

Had Lilly's parents had a change of heart and realised their mistake? No, this was just another ploy to distract Prey.

"No idea." Prey lied, straight faced.

Strange's level look said he didn't believe Prey in the slightest. "After today, I have a hard time believing that, my little woolly friend."

If it'd been physically possible, Prey's spiked heart would've skipped a beat. After today? What was that supposed to mean? So did the unicorn actually know something? Had he heard some of what Prey had so foolishly told Clear Mind, or was he just trying to frighten Prey into letting something slip?

Prey didn't know, and that smirk which worked its way onto Strange Happenstance's lips made Prey doubt himself. Had he inadvertently let something slip, or was the smirk part of a further bluff? If only Prey could hear his thoughts.

Strange Happenstance's smirk widened, seeming to say; 'I know something you don't know.'

Prey clamped his mouth shut, refusing to give any response of any kind.

"Oh. So that's how it is." Strange remarked thoughtfully, raising a hoof to tug at the brim of his hat. He discarded the newspaper and stood up. He looked down at Prey.

"I can see my time here will be wasted. I can better spend it elsewhere. Besides, I already got what I came for."

Prey's hoof twitched. He was ninety-five percent sure this was just another bluff, a jab to get him to slip up before Gloom and Crimson finished their own sessions and came out. But that still left a five percent chance...

"And Prey," Strange Happenstance looked back as he turned to go, "I will find out everything that happened over the mountains."

And what did that mean? You as in 'you Prey', or you as in 'you the Night Guard'? The only thing Prey moved was his head as he tracked Strange Happenstance.

The private detective paused at the receptionist's desk, "Sorry to interrupt but I'm afraid something urgent's happened. I'll have to reschedule my appointment some other time. Sorry again."

"Oh, that's no problem. When would you like me to book you-Mr. Grey, wait. Mr. Grey!"

But Strange Happenstance was already out the door. The receptionist sat back, "I guess he was in a real hurry."

"Don't worry. I'm sure he'll be back." Clear Mind assured her.

'Mr. Grey' the receptionist had said. Strange Happenstance obviously had no plans of returning here. He hadn't given his real name. Actually, the name 'Strange Happenstance' could be a cleverly crafted lie too for all Prey knew.

Prey stood there, furious and scared. He'd allowed Strange Happenstance to just waltz out of here with whatever he might know. Probably nothing, but what if he actually did know something? And Prey wasn't able to do anything, not here in broad daylight with all these witnesses.

The door behind Prey opened and Gloom emerged, thanking his own therapist, "Yes, see you next week. Thank you, and I hope you and your wife have a good time at the Hoofball match too."

Gloom shut the door and paused, spotting Prey standing there. He frowned, quickly looking around the reception area, "Is something the matter, Prey?"

Prey looked back. Should he tell Gloom about Strange Happenstance? He probably should. "...It's nothing."

Mimic, thief, private detective, or something else, Prey knew it was inevitably going to come down to him to have to deal with Strange Happenstance eventually. The last thing Prey needed were pony witnesses slowing him down.

After splitting from Gloom, Prey was accompanied back to his flat by Crimson, and Crimson's two Guards. Those three could've flown ahead, but Crimson had declined to leave Prey behind, and chosen to walk back with him through Canterlot's streets, ignoring all the looks they garnered.

Crimson didn't want to take even that small risk of splitting up, what with the unknown thieves still potentially about. Crimson's caution was well founded, although not for the same reasons the pegasus thought. Prey knew he should've declined the escort for Crimson's sake. But he was selfish. He wanted Crimson and his two trailing Guards as protection to dissuade Strange Happenstance, just in case the unicorn really was up to something at the moment.

Prey knew Crimson was carrying the electrite feather on his person, he could feel the passive aura coming off the runes like a source of heat next to him.

Not much was said. Prey was almost sure Crimson suspected something was the matter, but if so, he didn't try and press Prey for details.

On that note, the two thestral Guards serving witness protection duty wouldn't be around much longer. It just wasn't practical to keep up witness protection 24/7. The Night Guard so desperately needed them elsewhere that it was a minor miracle Nighthawk had managed to spare them for as long as he had already.

Prey wished he could make all of this up to Crimson somehow. He already owed Crimson so much. The thieves' presence here in Canterlot here was his fault, and it was him who'd gotten the jade necklace for Crimson in the first place, and it was also him who'd gotten Lemon Pink involved.

And then, what should Prey find when they got back to Flat 39, but a notice addressed to him from his probation officer?

Prey hadn't known he even had a probation officer.

Or at least, he hadn't known his public restrictions came under the purview of a probationary officer. No one had mentioned or thought about one while in his presence, so he'd just assumed a negative.

Prey stared up at the notice, stuck to the front door at what would be normal head height for an adult pony. It was addressed in bold red to him. He actually had to ask Crimson to take it down and pass it to him.

Stonily, Prey unfolded and read it, Crimson reading over his shoulder which Prey made no move to stop. The two thestral Guards stood politely back, looking in the other direction.

"A complaint has been filed against you, Prey (Second name unknown), for committing an infraction of your probationary restrictions 2.4B: 'Curfew and Accountability', of the law: Public Safety and Dangerous Individuals. You were out past your curfew of 9:00pm without reporting it to your probation officer, Hazard Safety, in advance."

Prey moved further down the page; "By further failing to report yourself after the infraction within the 24 hours grace period after the incident and failing to provide an explanation, you are hereby charged for being in breach of your agreement. For a first time infraction, a fine of 200 bits is hereby issued, payable within one week from the date of this notice. This is a serious matter, and I trust this fine will serve to impress upon you the severity of your infraction and that it will not happen again. Be warned, repeat offences will incur much harsher penalties. Signed, Hazard Safety, Civil Probation Officer."

Prey's lip curled in utter contempt for what he was reading. 'Calls that 'civil', does he? What would he call 'rude' then?'

Prey just couldn't catch a break, could he? It was almost even funny.

"What is this?" Crimson asked from over Prey's shoulder, in the same tone of voice he might've used if he'd stepped in something brown, sticky, and foul.

"A fine for two hundred bits." Prey said flatly. He was tempted to rip the notice up.

"And they just... dare? Dare to give it to you? Do they think they can just do that?"

"Apparently the answer is, yes, they do think so." Prey said. They knew nothing of Prey's troubles, his situation, or who he was, and they certainly wouldn't have cared even if they did. There was just some jumped up, self important pony behind a desk who saw a wrong doer daring to trespass upon their oh-so important rules that Prey had never agreed to in the first place.

Crimson's wing gave a curt flick, indicating disgust, "You won't pay this pathetic note. Right? You won't, right?"

Prey thought about agreeing and saying "no". He let the thought tempt him. A huge loophole he had spotted in the original paperwork, (which he hadn't actually signed, not that it made a difference), was that all the terminology in it referred to him as a 'pony'. He could maybe therefore claim that it was invalid and get away with it. Although he had doubts that would fly, they'd probably say his claim was ridiculous, since "pony" was the correct form of address for anyone no matter their actual species. Because why wouldn't you want to be a pony? After all, every decent 'person' was.

On top of which, it might be better to save that card for later, because if that loophole did actually work, he doubted he could get away with it more than once.

But it would feel good to ignore this fine in an act of defiance. However doing so wouldn't solve anything, just get him into even more trouble. These were the kind of indignant people who'd gleefully leap on every excuse to punish you all the more for standing up and questioning their rules. And he desperately couldn't afford to garner any more attention at the moment. Dreverton had been full of them, he could spot them on sight.

Nighthawk or the Night Guard wouldn't be any help either. It'd been Nighthawk who'd delivered the ruling after all, albeit reluctantly.

"Unfortunately yes, I'm going to have to pay it. It isn't giving me a choice." Prey grudgingly said.

"No," Crimson snapped, "This is ridiculous. You don't have to pay anything. They have no right."

"No, it's me who has no rights." Prey interjected. He wasn't angry at Crimson, how could he be? He owed Crimson, but the red pegasus didn't seem to be getting this. Prey waved the offensive notice:

"This isn't optional, I'm afraid. This is Canterlot. The New Unicornia, Capital of Equestria, the Grand City of Invention, and all that. We live here, but we aren't citizens. Tartarus, I'm not even a pony. The people who make the rules control our very lives, Crimson."

"It's not like that Prey. You are free."

Prey half raised one hoof, and showed the gold band on it. He lowered his voice until even he could scarcely hear it, meaning the other two thestral Guards definitely couldn't:

"Crimson, we're not free. C'mon, you already know this. Me and you, we're still both prisoners as long as we wear these tracer bands. Prisoners on a long leash, yes, but prisoners nonetheless. We're here only so long as we can keep serving Luna."

"It's Princess Luna. You're making her sound like a tyrant saying it like that Prey, and she isn't like that. She does care about us, about all her subjects."

Prey held back on what he really wanted to say about Luna, knowing well how all the clans revered and almost worshipped her. Instead he whispered, "So why'd she let that House Time noble steal your jade necklace?"

Crimson's brows snapped together in anger, "Prey..." He warned.

"What I'm trying to say is; we're not important to her, Crimson." Prey amended. It made his stomach twist to think how deferential Crimson still was towards Luna.

He quietly shook his head, ears swaying, "Face it Crimson. She has her own plans, agendas, and goals. She's an immortal goddess. We're nothing to her. A century down the line, we'll be nothing but dust. She won't even remember the two dumb sods she pulled from prison-"

"Enough." Crimson interrupted, "I don't want to hear any more of this Prey."

Prey flinched, like Crimson had just shouted at him, rather than the level tone he'd actually spoken in. Prey quickly looked away.

Crimson shifted on his hooves, considering what he wanted to say before he next spoke, "Prey I... You already know I don't agree with that view, and I think you're wrong about everything you've just said. Princess Luna does care about us for the very same reason she pulled us from prison. But I think, I mean, we think she just has trouble showing it in a way we can understand. I mean, after Nightmare Moon and being banished, is it any wonder Her Majesty seems disconnected?"

'So in other words, you think she's still mad from being on the moon.' Prey interpreted in his head. "Wait, who's 'we'?"

"The Night Guard. We're sworn to her service. We will serve her for however long it takes Her Majesty to recover. Maybe she won't. Maybe she will in a hundred years. The when isn't important. The clans will still serve her."

"But why?" Prey asked, "I don't get it. Why? Just, just why?"

"Because of what happened a thousand years ago. We, the clans I mean, failed Princess Luna. She failed us too in the end, but only after our ancestors had already failed her."

Crimson took a slow breath, and haltingly explained, "We have records Prey. Princess Luna did not suddenly fall to Nightmare Moon. It was gradual. It was our fault for not noticing. When she was silently crying out for help, we didn't notice. The whole world almost fell to eternal night back then Prey. Do you understand what that means? It is all our duty, our penance, to ensure something like that can never happen again."

"Oh." Was all Prey could say.

The way Crimson recited all of that made him feel sick. That was not a good enough reason for Crimson to be so devoted to Luna, just because it was 'tradition' and 'duty'. That had been a thousand years ago. Luna didn't deserve Crimson's loyalty.

But even runty sheep knew how seriously thestrals took duty. They'd undertaken the responsibility to sacrifice their lives in the service of an alicorn, just to make sure she didn't fly off the handle and again try to doom the whole world.

Hate. Loathing. That was what Prey felt for the Princess of the Night. She was so incredibly powerful, and she'd used that power to almost kill everyone. And what did she get for her slip up now that she'd returned from the moon? The unwavering loyalty of entire thestral clans, joint rulership of Equestria, a Palace, riches, wealth, luxury, privilege, and power.

The scales of justice were totally different when weighed for an alicorn.

What did Prey get for being deemed a threat, one which was nowhere near the level of Luna? He was censored, watched, and now insulted and fined. Of course, that wasn't even counting the fifty-seven years he'd spent rotting in Dreverton.

'So why didn't Crimson's own clan come back? I guess somewhere along the line they realised the traditions they were hoofing down to their children were a load of horseapples.'

Prey of course hated Clan Myrrdon wholeheartedly because they were Crimson's enemies, but perhaps they'd had a point in not wanting to return just so they could live out their lives under the night alicorn's rule. And that was saying nothing of her sister, the Sun Wolf.

But this wasn't about the clans. This was about Prey and Crimson. They were friends, more than friends even. They understood one another. But not on this. On this, they'd suddenly been forced to confront that they each had a radically different view. Now what were they supposed to do? Each looked sideways at the other. Prey's heart was twisting, and his stomach was twisting itself along in a sympathetic knot.

How important was this difference between them? Very. But was it more important than their friendship?

"I yield." Prey said.

"I, pardon?"

"I yield. I give up. I take back what I said. You win. Whatever you want Crimson, that's how we'll do it. This isn't something I'm willing to fight over. The thestrals have a duty to her, and are doing the right thing by committing to her."

Crimson drew a hoof across his face, tear scar tracks really making him look haggard, "That's not, I mean, you're allowed to have your own opinions, Prey. I don't want... I don't want that to be our friendship. Just agreeing all the time. But Princess Luna is a good person."

Good. A good person. Yes, and Tartarus was a vacation resort. Perhaps once upon a time, that might've even been true. But the pathway to Tartarus was paved with the intentions of good people.

'But nothing I can say will change anything.' Prey looked at the floor. It was better to concede rather than risk alienating Crimson in any way. That was what really mattered here and now, not a truth Prey couldn't prove and which Crimson wouldn’t accept..

"I understand. I get it. And for what it's worth, I think what you and the clans are doing is noble."

"Don't say that Prey."

"Say what?"

"Noble. It's not noble. It's just what we should've done from the start a thousand years ago. And besides, I don't believe in noble and neither do you. Do you?"

"No, not really." Prey admitted. He and Crimson both knew that being 'noble' and 'righteous' was above them. They'd both done things they weren't proud of, things which they could never take back or make right. Survival isn't pretty.

Prey hunched his shoulders, waiting and looking away.

Crimson's wings were fidgeting. He touched one of the golden bands on his leg, then glanced almost guiltily around before lowering his head down to Prey's level to whisper, "I just, I mean, is that really the way you see it Prey? As just being a prisoner here?"

"I want to go home. I just want to go home so badly. But I can't." Prey admitted.

Now it was Crimson's turn to blanch, "Oh." He hesitated, mental walls twisting:

"You will go home someday, Prey. I swear it. Serving here in Canterlot won't last forever, you will get to see your family again, even if I have to fly you the whole way there myself."

Crimson had misinterpreted Prey's words when he said 'I can't go back', but then, Crimson wasn't to know. Prey couldn't let anyone find out his home village of Rushweed didn't exist anymore.

'I'm an idiot. I'm such an idiot. What am I doing, dropping incriminating hints like this? Do I want to get caught?'

Hadn't he learnt his lesson with Clear Mind? He couldn't tell anyone. He'd just had this lesson hammered home, but yet here he was, on the verge of breaking it not two hours later. Honestly, what was he doing here, telling secrets in the middle of a corridor, with two Night Guards barely out of ear shot?

'But it's Crimson...' Half of Prey's mind protested, but the other half was too afraid to risk anything. It was Crimson, and if Crimson hated him-

'But he's like me. He knows what it's like to regret everything you've done. He didn't judge me then, so why would he now?'

But what if...? Prey was too scared to risk it. Maybe the day would come, but if it did, it wouldn't be because Prey had told him, but because Crimson had finally figured it out.

'What. Am. I. Doing? Just pay the stupid fine.'

Prey mustered up a smile, "Thanks for the offer Crimson. Let's just... go in and forget about this for now, okay? It's just some bits. Who cares about some gold?"

Crimson took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, also letting the matter go with it. Prey was right. It wasn’t right, but it wasn't worth it either.

Twenty minutes later, Prey slipped out unnoticed from his flat, having gobbled down a bag of dried oats as fast as he could, and waited until Crimson himself had left. Gone out flying and training again, Prey knew, and to get used to the passive boost from Prey's gift, the electrite feather. By tonight, the two Night Guards accompanying him would need to leave, and Crimson would be on his own again.

Maybe they'd done their job and deterred an opportunistic attack by the thieves just by being there. Maybe, maybe not. There was no way to ever tell.

Prey didn't want Crimson left unguarded, but it did selfishly please him that no one else would be hanging around Crimson all the time. It was a small consolation.

Prey looked both ways up and down the landing corridor, then instead of taking the stairs down, went up towards the roof instead. He dodged a couple of residents, then opened a janitor's closet and went to the back, where there was an emergency exit, opening out onto the fire escape.

This was the path out of the building Prey took, just in case anyone was watching the front entrance. Hot sun, blue sky, and a stiff breeze blowing through the metal rungs of the staircase accompanied him as he *clank'ed* down the side of the building.

Back on the ground, Prey glared briefly up at the sun, 'Hate you. Hate you and your damned sister both.'

Then he put his head down and hurried off, shoulders hunched.

The runic arrays along the length of the green stone tunnel were coming along. Not easily, or fast, but they were coming along. Slowly. All too slowly.

Prey drank greedily from his waterskin, sitting against the hard stone wall, damp with water. He leaned his buzzing head back against the cold stone. He was completely drained of energy. Again.

Five hours had come and gone since Prey had left the apartment building. It was precious little time to create anything of true worth in rune work, but it was what he had.

Prey let out a long breath and restoppered the waterskin. He was tired. The damp green stone wasn't comfortable, but Prey let his eyes drift shut to doze for just a moment...

The remnant of Snake bent down and whispered in his ear; 'Ego brings everyone to their knees. I find your efforts... disappointing.'

Prey's eyes flew open. A hiss of furious rage escaped him, "Oh just buck off!" He punched the stone, and then yelp-squeaked in pain and curled over his hoof. The flash of sudden pain just made him even angrier.

"You Zoma'grika,half-baked, indolent, bucking corpse! You're already dead, stay dead you useless cadaver. You're dead, you're dead! I killed you. Just stay dead for once!"

Prey finished screaming at the empty stone tunnel and gasped for breath. He was so angry at everything, and there was nothing he could do about it, about anything! Everything about this hated city was out to get him. Prey growl-whined in helpless anger, getting to his hooves three-legged.

He'd dozed off for ten seconds, and Snake's remnant just had to sneak in the last word. Ten seconds! "I'll, I'll, you, I'll....ghaa!"

But Snake was just a remnant inside Prey's own head. There was nothing he could do to the already dead voodoo witch. There was no threat he could make, no bargain, or promise which would make the remnant stop.

Prey stood there in the dim tunnel, panting, and more angry than ever. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it or any of the real reasons he was angry.

"I'll kill you," Prey swore to no one, "I'll kill all of you."

Prey fumed and muttered and silently cursed all the way back through the cave tunnels to where they breached back into the sewers, but even in the midst of his black anger, his eyes stayed peeled. This area was supposed to be safe, but that didn't mean it actually was.

And then just as he reached the join back into the sewer network, Prey thought he sensed something behind him in the darkness. Perhaps it was a sound, perhaps a movement, maybe just the weight of eyes on the back of his neck, but Prey felt it.

Prey did exactly what you weren't supposed to do. He looked back.

He saw nothing but darkness and stone behind him, the odd crystal fragment embedded in the rock catching his lantern's light at odd intervals and making it hard to judge distances.

Wait, for a second there, those two uneven crystals right at the edge of his blurred vision, had those been a pair of eyes? Big pupiless cyan eyes?

Hurriedly, Prey retreated into the sewers breach, relying on the runic traps around the choke point he'd prepared to protect him... Nothing moved to follow him. Prey hid around the corner and waited, heedless of the smell.

But still nothing tried to follow him into the sewers. Prey didn't know what it was, but he was certain.

There was something else inside the mountain. He hadn't felt threatened, but he had felt like he was being stalked and watched just now. Some cave dwelling monster, not hungry just curious instead?

Well, Prey wasn't going to give it the chance to grow bold enough to try finding out what the new 'prey' tasted like. He'd avoid taking this path again. He had other, safer paths he could take in the future. To get onto those particular paths, anyone or anything would have to pass across certain choke points.

The choke points looked like harmless rock. They weren't.

There was something in the underground crystal labyrinth. If it knew what was good for it, it would stay there.

'Just another problem to deal with later. Or never.'

Lemon Pink was in the Sewer's Heart, up to her knees in cold, brackish water. Although there wasn't really all that much water left in the basin. Now, the basin was more a dark, submerged mass of slowly wriggling tendrils. It looked disturbingly like Lemon was standing in a slick, black mass of entrails. The rubbery tendrils passively slid up against Lemon's wet fur, sometimes faintly twitching in a disgustingly slimy way.

But that was just an aesthetic concern. It was perfectly safe. Well, safe for her and Prey at least. Not that the wickerwatch had been created to fight. It was mainly just a plant, both in form and function. That is to say, passive, and unresponsive. Mainly. Most of the time anyway.

However, much like anything Prey created, it could still be dangerous to the unwary.

Lemon wasn't focusing on that though. A crystal lamp hung from a freshly hammered spike overhead, its light mixing with the silvery glow coming off the mare's horn. In ages past, a curved or sharp horn had been a mark of shame, associated with the warping characteristics of dark magic. A baseless stereotype, but still secretly at least half believed by many unicorns today.

In Lemon Pink however, those groundless fears would've been proven right. She had her eyes closed in concentration, magic slowly pulsing through her horn in time to the beat of her heart. But with each pulse, a swell of black sparks would buzz and then fade.

Prey might be far superior with rune magic, but Lemon was the one with the horn and far superior options. In most areas, (assuming she had the skill and magical reserves), Lemon could pick and choose spells to learn from a long list tested and perfected by generations of unicorn scholars.

However dark magic was not one of those areas.

Unsurprisingly, any such research on the topic was illegal, not to mention hazardous, and thus had only been carried out in secret by either desperate or deranged individuals in the past. Unfortunately, this also made their research, (if they even recorded it), suspect and unstable to study at best. And that was assuming you could even get a hold of their work without getting caught.

But Hard Baked had managed it, obtaining an old, exceptionally foul grimoire from a half crazed dark, black, and blood magic practitioner, who'd faded into history some centuries past. That was how he'd made his gnarled effigy, and then the scarecrow and reaper King from that.

And Lemon Pink had raided Hard Baked's mind before his death. While Hard Baked might've only been an earth pony, and was thus limited in what he could use from the grimoire, he'd still managed to decipher a fair bit of the book's other text and seen some unicorn spells.

A variant of which Lemon Pink was using right now.

Perspiration beaded her forehead despite the cold air, and her straight, waterfall mane was damp with it. The black sparks pulsed and faded as Lemon Pink continued to feed the spell magic in a steady trickle. Raw power was not the key here, since Lemon didn't have that kind of magical reserve, but rather careful control instead.

What was being created here, in the hidden catacombs underneath Canterlot? A hex, or a curse.

Modern magicians claimed curses didn't exist, but they were wrong, plain and simple. Curses might not be big and bold like a fireball or a forcefield, or documented and recognised like Star Swirl's work, but they were very real. Just as real as the one Lemon Pink was weaving over the area right now.

This was a hex of fear, of darkness, and of paranoia. Hexes weren't spells in the traditional sense of spellcasting. No two were ever cast the same, and were non-replicable. Unlike common spells, where a unicorn could just feed magic into a spell matrix they'd memorised in school without having a clue about the why and how, a curse was all about emotion and intent.

A normal unicorn didn't need to understand the forces and mathematical intricacies to use a spell. They just used it and went on with their day. They didn't even need to want the outcome so strongly that the magic eventually bent to their will. There were no matrixes or formula for curses, all that mattered was your willpower to create an effect.

Fear, paranoia, and darkness.

That was the hex Lemon was casting. Things that grew and multiplied in the presence of each other. Not tangible things. Nothing you could detect with magic either. Only things you could dismiss in the back of your head as not being real. Or that you hoped weren't real.

A stout heart, and you'd be safe. But in this narrow, dank, enclosed environment of the sewers, even your smallest doubt would start to multiply.

Where the wickerwatch's submerged tendrils spread, the tunnels seemed lower, the shadows thicker, the air colder, and the water darker.

Was that movement in the corner of your vision? A flicker? Were you just imagining things? Had you taken the second left, or was it the third right? Was that splash in the dark actually a muffled hoofstep?

Your so called friends weren't pulling their weight, they should be keeping a proper eye out. You always had to do everything yourself if you wanted it done right. They were so useless. You'd have to watch your own back down here, no telling what might be lurking around the next corner in the shadows.

The longer and deeper you went, the stronger the crawling paranoia became. The wickerwatch spread it through the sewers.

It was everything that made you jump in fright. When you call "Who's there?" A cobweb across your face. The shadow under the door. Snatched glimpses of gleam of eyes in the dark. A rattling of the closet handle. A moan of wind in the moonless night. Tree branches scratching at the window.

And the wickerwatch would only grow larger and reach further with each passing day. Already, it was sending back the presence of the thieves scouting party like a plucked stand in a spider's web.

Two levels above, round a bend, down two tunnels, a second left, across an intersection of flowing sewerage, and under a narrow shaft crammed with hot water pipes, a hoof slipped and splashed into the cold water.

Or perhaps it was a paw, not a hoof. It didn't matter, because either way, the appendage's owner splashed against a frond of something slimy and long under the water's surface.

The foot or hoof was yanked back in disgust, and the scouting group kept on moving. They were on the hunt, searching for a dangerous quarry. A pink unicorn mare with a curved horn, white, black and yellow mane, and a penchant for lethal dark magic. And also a little sheep filly, of all foolish things.

The hunting group moved on, never ceasing to scan the tunnels with both light and magic, and thought nothing more of the slip and splash. They knew what might happen if they got distracted.

As yet, they felt no effects from the curse. It'd only just come into existence after all, its creator having laboured for many hours to set up the right conditions. Plus, this hunting party wasn't close to any mass of wickerwatch tendrils. But that would come later, in time perhaps. Both wickerwatch and curse would spread.

Was there any point in going back up, Prey asked himself?

He needed all the time he could get working on his runes. A soft bed to rest his drained mind and body in would be good, but to get there, he'd have to take the time to travel back through Canterlot. If he stayed down here, he could immediately resume work when he woke up.

In the end though, he still went back to the flat. What decided him was the worry of getting into further trouble for breaking curfew again. The pathetic threats of the probation officer, Safety Hazard, didn't phase Prey. Rather it was the worry about the attention he might draw. If he did, Nighthawk or another Night Guard might come to find out why. Prey didn't have the time or energy to waste pacifying them.

Prey had reason to be glad he'd returned to his flat before the morning came.

It was dark. Late. Someone banged heavily on his door. Prey jerked upright on his mattress.

The knocking came again from outside the door, methodical, tired. Prey rolled upright, instinctively grabbing for his ribbon. He found that it was still tied on. That's right, he'd never removed it, he remembered now.

He didn't call out asking who it was. He knew who it would be; his old friend Trouble. Instead, Prey just tightened his ribbon's bow, and silently padded over to the door.

He was safe here inside his flat, this was where his runic defences could protect him. He wasn't going to open the door into his fortress in the middle of the night just because some fool knocked. Prey placed his hoof on a patch of wall, and concentrated as the tired, heavy sounding knocking came yet again.

His runes came to life, and let Prey feel who or what was on the other side of the wall.

Prey dropped his hoof and yanked the door open. The shape of Crimson stood in the near darkness of the corridor outside.

"Crimson, what-?" But already Prey was taking in the problem.

"Sorry about this Prey. Can you lend me a hoof?" Crimson asked thickly. He was hurt. He was standing, but in such a way that Prey immediately knew there was pain.

"What happened? Get inside quick. How bad is it?" Prey asked all at once, any sleepiness gone. He hit the light switch as he hurried Crimson inside, the crystal in the ceiling brightening to life.

Prey blinked in the brightness, and took in Crimson's state.

First, and this was the most important point, Crimson was still standing. The Reaper King had done worse. But that didn't mean Crimson still hadn't been messed up.

Crimson's coat and the feathers of his normally oh-so pristine wings were battered. Prey saw swollen bruises all over the left side of Crimson's barrel, and a shallow but nastily long slice down a foreleg. There were at least eight different matted patches of fur from cuts or punctures, (Prey didn't know which yet), and grazes galore. There was a hitch to each of Crimson's inhales that indicated pain in his chest too.

The worst though, aside from the long slice, was a seeping hole in Crimson's rear right leg muscle. It looked like something had 'hooked' in and twisted as it was yanked out.

Obviously, Crimson had been attacked.

The thieves? They'd waited until the very night Crimson's two Guards had left, and then attacked. How had Crimson gotten away? Anger clenched Prey's teeth together. They'd attacked Crimson.

'No one steals from me.'

"Did you see their faces?" Prey growled, although from him it was more of a vaguely threatening warble.

Crimson paused in painfully lowering himself to the floor, "What? Yes, of course."

"You did?" Prey jerked his head up from peering at a torn flap of skin on Crimson's shin in surprise. He'd expected the thieves to be wearing cloaks and hoods like last time.

"How many were there? Tell me what you remember. Cutie marks, defining characteristics, fur colour, numbers. True they could've all been in disguise, but we can still go tell Nighthawk-"

"No Prey. No. It wasn't the thieves who broke into the Vanhoover station." Crimson winced and gingerly brushed at a swollen and raw bruise forming under his jaw, breathing shallowly. His fetlock came away with specks of blood.

Wait, it wasn't the thieves? But then...what was all this? Who else could've attacked Crimson? "But... who then?"

"Not them." Crimson averted his eyes, "It's not an issue you need to worry about."

Prey caught his breath. He'd used that very phrase before himself. "You killed them? When? Where? Do I need to-?"

"No! No no no, that's not what I meant at all. No one's dead."

"What? But then who-?"

"It's not important. Can we just leave it Prey? It was... mostly my own fault. All this, I mean." Crimson nodded painfully down at his battered body.

"Not important?" Prey repeated incredulously, gesticulating at Crimson lying on the floorboards, "How is this 'not important'? Someone dared to hurt you."

"It's not whatever you think it is, Prey. I knew what I was getting myself into. I don't want to talk about it because I know you won't approve."

"Of course I don't approve of whatever this is! You're hurt." Prey hadn't a clue what Crimson could be thinking.

"It's... Look, are you prepared to help me or do I need to go to the hospital and I can't go there? They'll ask questions and file reports." Crimson looked up from the floor to tiredly meet Prey's eyes. Prey knew if he said no, Crimson would apologise for waking him up, and then hobble out the door to the hospital.

Prey scowled, that question was truly offensive. "Of course I'll help. I'll always help you Crimson. I keep telling you, there are only two things I won't do for you. Anything else, and I mean anything, you only have but to ask."

Crimson's ears fell, "Of course, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult you. That was unworthy of me. I knew, I mean I know you wouldn't, wouldn't..." His words trailed off.

"Have you got a concussion?" Prey asked in concern, hurrying around to Crimson's front, "Here, try and look me in the eyes."

"No, I didn't get hit hard enough for that. Not in the head anyways. I just need you to patch me up, like you did for Gloom in Mayflower. Can you do that please?"

The only reason Prey hadn't already immediately started doing exactly that the moment he'd gotten Crimson inside was because he knew Crimson wasn't critical. If Crimson had managed to fly back here and then limp inside unassisted, he wasn't about to keel over. Finding out what had happened and if Crimson was being followed was more important. Except Crimson wasn't telling him.

Prey gave Crimson a look just to let him know how unhappy he was with this, then rushed to grab his emergency kit from the cupboard. It was a large and extensive kit. Prey always tried to be prepared for the worst.

Crimson blinked at the kit's contents as Prey unzipped it. Rolls and rolls of tightly wound bandages, pressed bundles of dried leaves, roots, flowers, seeds, small jars of thick pastes or liquids, a knife, scissors, scalpels, and enough needles of all sizes to look like some demented sowing kit.

"What is all of that?"

"Medical stuff." Prey answered shortly.

"Why do you have so much? What were you preparing for?"

"Nothing. Just the inevitable."

"Ah. All gathered in the hopes it would never need to be used, I take it."

"Be quiet." Prey snapped. He was still very unhappy about all of this. He pulled out a roll of bandage and began unwinding it. The long slice down Crimson's leg was bleeding the most, although it was not Crimson's most serious injury. That was the puncture hole. The bandage was just to keep the slice closed until he could get around to properly disinfecting, then stitching it shut.

Prey shifted to reach around Crimson's upper foreleg, then hesitated, bandage spread between his hooves.

"Do you want me to raise my leg like this-?"

"No!" Prey recoiled, Crimson freezing in turn. Prey stopped himself and took a breath. 'It's okay.' He told himself. No one was touching him, it was the other way around. He was still in control. Prey despised still being so afraid of just a simple touch, but there it was.

"I'm going to be... I'm going to be working here, but don't touch me. Don't move, okay?"

"I-"

"I said don't move. And be quiet. Just let me work and don't distract me."

Crimson bit his lip and went still. He didn't nod or say yes, because that would've violated exactly what Prey just told him not to do. Prey steeled himself.

"Don't move." He repeated again, then leaned in and quickly reached around to wrap Crimson's leg. The leg felt hard with lean muscle under the fur, and almost too warm. Prey kept going round and round until the wide but shallow slice was firmly wrapped.

Prey stepped back and let out the breath he'd been holding. Next was the hook hole. Prey winced just looking at it. He didn't have a clue how Crimson wasn't whimpering right now. Probably just too tough for that. The pegasus's self discipline really was formidable.

"Hold on one second." Prey scurried over to his windowsill, laden down with his pot plants. He stretched up on his rear hooves, and began plucking leaves from five different plants. Crimson's eyes followed him, but he didn't move or speak, exactly as Prey had ordered.

Prey hurried back over three-legged, the leaves clutched to his chest. He dumped them onto the floor and pushed three of the leaf types towards Crimson. "Here. Eat these. Don't leave any, eat them all."

Crimson didn't ask what they were, or what they were for. The leaves could've been poison for all he knew, (in specific combinations, they were poison), but he still scooped them all up with the feathers on his least injured wing. He grimaced at the horrible sour taste as he chewed, but he persevered and didn't stop until he'd eaten every leaf.

Meanwhile, Prey was mashing the other two remaining types of leaves together into a green soapy paste.

"This is going to sting." Prey warned, then daubed the mix around the puncture wound.

Prey's warning was useless. Crimson's entire body went rigid even under Prey's light touch, and a long hiss of air escaped from between his clenched teeth. Evidently, Crimson had only been remaining strong until this point.

"Sorry, but I need to disinfect it. Don't worry, those leaves you just ate will start to work in a few minutes and help with the pain."

He worked quickly, applying the mashed leaves until he was satisfied the wound was thoroughly disinfected, before lightly scraping the excess away.

Prey wiped his hooves off, then pulled out one of the needles and reel of stitching thread from the box. The needle was curved to the side, made specifically for sewing with flesh, not cloth. Prey sadly knew how much of a difference that made when working. Cleft hooves really did help with holding and threading the needle's eye, something he made sure to do outside of Crimson's line of sight. No one liked to see the needle. Annoyed or not, he still warned Crimson before he began.

"How are those leaves coming? Have they helped with the pain?"

"Yes. A bit."

"Good. Try not to tense up now. It'll only make this hurt twice as much." Prey ordered rather waspishly, still upset about all of this, then pressed the raised flesh of the puncture shut and slipped the needle under Crimson's hide. Crimson still tensed up, everyone did sadly for the first stitch. The only question was, did they manage to untense their muscles for the rest of the stitches?

Prey worked as fast as he could without slipping up, wanting to get it over and done with. He stitched in silence, just Crimson's hitched breath catching every time the needle went back in to break the loud quiet.

By the time he was finishing up the last stitch, (stitch number seven), Prey knew how Crimson had gotten this puncture wound. He saw how the muscle had been jerked as the hook was pulled out. The hook had been pointed, but not with a sharpened edge like a knife would've had. More like a blunted practice weapon. Specifically, it looked a lot like what Prey imagined a wound inflicted by a sparring griffin claw boot would look.

Crimson wasn't saying how he'd gotten hurt, but Prey could add two and two just the as well as the next person, and also far better than most ponies he'd met.

Prey's mouth turned down. But he didn't say a word as he cleaned off his needle and began the process of seeing to the rest of Crimson's injuries.

He unbound the slice wound and washed it out with a mix of water and crumbled mustard root, not even looking up as Crimson wheezed in pain, merely murmuring wordless assurances as he got on with it.

The slice wasn't deep, however it was too wide in the middle and the skin too thin to hold more stitches. Prey settled for putting butterfly stitches on both ends and tightly packing a dressing including yarrow over the middle. He paused to wash the sticky film of red from his hooves and fetlocks, and moved on.

Other small cuts and gashes got the same treatment, cleaned and bandaged where they were small enough, and a couple of stitches where they weren't.

The friction grazes Prey couldn't do much about besides smearing a balm on them and wrapping them too. They weren't serious but Prey knew how much they had to hurt.

Bruises he simply slapped small poultices over and told Crimson to keep the poultice on for as long as possible.

Gently Prey felt along Crimson's ribs, using just the tips of his cloven hooves to probe the bone, feeling for cracks. To Crimson's credit, he didn't flinch even once, which was a good thing because if he had, Prey would've probably flinched in return, and that really wouldn't have been good for Crimson's ribs.

Prey listened to Crimson's breathing, lifted up an ear and pressed it against the pegasus's side after psyching himself up for it. Prey told him to breathe in deeply and hold it a few times, before concluding that none of Crimson's ribs were broken. The practice armour chestplate Prey was certain Crimson had been wearing had done its job.

"Bruised chest, and possibly two bruised ribs on the right side too. Probably. I'm not a hundred percent certain yet. You'll know in a few days for certain, though." Prey concluded.

Crimson cocked a questioning ear, still not daring to speak since Prey hadn't asked him a direct question.

Prey gave him a mirthless smile, "Feel that pain? If it's just your chest muscles, it'll feel the exact same. But if it's the ribs that are bruised, it'll be worse by then."

That done, Prey looked over Crimson's wings last of all, ignoring his patient's discomfort. The feathers weren't important, those would grow back in time, but since Crimson'd had his wings folded since he came in, Prey hadn't gotten a chance to examine the wing muscles themselves.

Crimson complied, and let Prey stretch out his wing, because heavens knew Prey didn't have the strength to forcibly extend it. A pegasus's flight muscles were usually the strongest muscles in their whole body.

Prey felt the tingle from the disguised electrite feather when he passed over it, even if it looked exactly the same as the rest of Crimson's admittedly impressive pinions. There was no missing it. How could Prey not know the buzz of runic power tingling his hooves when he'd been the one who created the feather? Prey wondered how much worse Crimson's injuries would've been if it weren't for the passive boost from his gift?

Either way, Crimson's wings were fine, and Prey let Crimson refold them as he let go.

Prey sighed in aggravation and walked around to plop himself down in front of Crimson. He gave the Pegasus a long, hard stare. Normally, you couldn't outstare a thestral, or even a pseudo-thestral, but Crimson obviously knew he was in the wrong here.

Rather than meet his accusing eyes, Crimson had his gaze fixed on Prey's ribbon. Prey waited. Every so often, Crimson would gingerly shift to alleviate one of his pains. The leaves he'd eaten could only do so much after all. His breathing was still shallow too. Or perhaps he just didn't like the smell of his own blood staining Prey's hooves. Few did.

Finally, Prey broke the silence of his flat, "Are there going to be more of these illicit 'training sessions' that I'm going to have to patch you up from?"

"You knew-? I mean, I'm not surprised, of course you could work it out." Crimson said tiredly.

Prey kept up his glare, "Training implies restraint and practice. I've just treated you, so I know there was none of that involved."

"Sorry. It really was my fault. I pushed for all of them to attack me at once. I thought I could take them. I'm sorry you had to deal with my folly." Crimson apologised stoically.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you did come to me. And if you're ever hurt, of course I'll help. But I don't..." Prey waved a hoof, encompassing Crimson's injured state, "...I don't want to have to help in the first place. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to see this."

"Sorry. But if you don’t push your limits, you don’t improve. But sorry." Crimson apologised again.

"So... Is this going to be a regular occurrence or not?" Prey pressed after a minute of Crimson not elaborating.

"I, no? Maybe?" Crimson looked over himself, "I want to train, I need this kind of training if I'm going to get good enough. But I don't think I will do it to this level again. I took on too much. I can't even say I won, it was a draw."

Pain was a great teacher. It taught you to never again do what had caused it. Pain had a way of really making your priorities clear. Crimson's unflattering review of himself and his capabilities was a result of that. Right now, although he was sitting and conversing quite lucidly, Prey knew Crimson was struggling with keeping the pain under control.

"What brought on this sudden need to improve so much?" Prey asked after a time.

Crimson looked up and studied the ceiling, "I went to visit Lilly Blossom in her new house." He said simply.

"Ah."

And didn't that say it all? Prey and Crimson were so similar, but it was only Crimson who saw Lilly's pitiful condition as his fault. Crimson was a better person than Prey like that. Back then he'd had the jade necklace to aid him, but now he didn't even have that. He was even weaker than he had been in Mayflower, so how was he supposed to protect anyone now?

The guilt had gotten to Crimson and driven him into finding a number of Night Guards and demanding they brutally attack him all at once. It was a ridiculously extreme training method, with little return and a high cost. The very same night he'd gotten out from under the careful watch of his two escorts, he'd snuck off and engaged in this.

But Prey could see it in his mind's eye; The thestral Guards shaking their heads, Crimson stubbornly insisting, and the Night Guards eventually giving in and agreeing to meet him after hours.

Those Guards hadn't held back despite their reluctance though, that wasn't the clan's way. They would've done exactly as Crimson asked and attacked with blows fully capable of crippling or killing if taken head on.

'Oh Crimson, you idiot do-gooder and your bleeding heart.' Prey sighed internally. Crimson really didn't deserve any of this mess with the thieves, all started by that unbending selfish Lord Vanish.

"I'll say it again, I don't want to have to tend to you like this," Prey stated, "And I don't approve of your training method either. But you already know there's only two things I won't do for you. Just... if you feel you have to do this kind of training, well, maybe just check I'm in that night before hoof? Just to give me a heads up?"

Crimson knew as well as Prey his probation forbade him being outside after dark. However Prey was confirming he didn't care and went out at least semi-regularly anyways. It was an unspoken admission of guilt that he was also doing things Crimson wouldn't approve of.

It was a trade, but not one of the selfish sort. Not a; 'I'll-look-the-other-way-if-you-do-the-same' sort. They were both friends and far beyond such points. Prey was telling Crimson because it was only fair he should know. A trade of reaffirmed trust.

Crimson might be bad at words, but he understood the silent, deeper interactions where what you didn't say was more important than what you did say.

Crimson smiled sincerely at Prey, the band aid the lamb had stuck over the cut on his cheek creasing and scar tracks really standing out, "I understand. I will warn you when, if, I do this again. And thank you Prey. For being my friend, I mean. Oh, and fixing me up, that too."

"You really need to work on your smile. You'll scare children with that, not to mention make their parents panic." Prey sighed, but he still smiled back.

A smile can't fix anything, but between two individuals who understand, a smile, no matter how tired, worn, wry, bitter, hollow, or outright twisted, is another one of those silent deeper interactions that said more than words.

Prey still wasn't happy about any of this, nor about Crimson's frankly reckless training methods, or seeing his pain and now having dried blood on his hooves, but hey. Smile. It was just a moment in the enclosed safety of Prey's flat, and come the morning all the other problems and consequences would come back, but right here and now, they were both still alive, and for now that was enough.

Prey breathed out and sat up, turning aside his face into the crook of his shoulder, rubbing away the sandy feeling under his eyes to help stay awake, "Well, not that this wasn't fun and educational, but it's way past late, and we should really both be getting some rest. You especially."

"Healer's orders, is it?"

"Yes. You are to go to bed and rest. No leaving your flat at all tomorrow. Rest. We'll see how you're doing after that. And I don't think I need to say don't interact with anyone either. Stay out of sight unless you want to explain why you look like a tenderised raw piece of fishz, sorry, fish." Prey ordered, eyeing Crimson's state meaningfully.

"Yes, I know. I'll leave you to sleep."

"Do you need any other help?"

"I made it back here while injured," Crimson pointed out as he slowly stood up, "I think I can make it across the hall."

"Well if you're sure. I'll come by tomorrow. And don't forget to drink plenty of water."

"I will make sure. And thank you again Prey."

Crimson's assurances aside, Prey still followed Crimson into his darkened flat to make sure the pegasus actually made it to his bed. Crimson didn't begrudge him that. Prey checked the flat over before he left, glanced at the ice box with the blood fern set on top, and shut the door.

Lemon Pink came by at five o'clock that morning in the darkness before the dawn. She came under a heavy illusionary veil and notice-me-not charm, eyes red from lack of sleep, and delivered her emergency report. Their old 'friend' Trouble was back.

Hello to all. So, my mistake in the last Author's Notes. I said this would be the last Chapter in the ARC. Obviously, I underestimated how much I had left to write in this ARC. So the climax isn't juuuust yet. 😄

Hope you enjoy and like the chapter anyways.

⭐ Editor: Sweetolebob18