Crimson blood stained almost every inch of snow around them. Severed body parts, and what looked to be bone fragments littered the ground, drenched in red. The fireplace had died out, deprived of air from the body of one of the Stalkers thrown over it. His chest and belly had been ripped open, all the way from his chin down to his groin.

Another mangled body lay on the ground close by, its head ripped off in what looked to be a perfect cut. Like the cut from a razor sharp blade. The head was nowhere to be found, making it difficult to identify the body.

Next to the decapitated stallion, the remains of the last Stalker could be found, and it was no more than a red mess of organs and shattered bones.

“Holy mother of…”

Duskshine heard Willow whisper behind him, but he didn’t finish the sentence before the contents of his stomach shot up his throat and silenced him as it spewed out of his mouth. He didn’t say anything else after it, the point of what he wanted to say already clear.

He didn’t blame the poor colt. The scene before them was so horrific, it almost bordered over into insanity rather than disgust. The tremendous violence these stallions had been subjected to was almost unbelievable. Duskshine looked around the campfire in silence, taking in the awful combination of red and white in front of him, doing his best to fight the impulse to run away from it all.

As his eyes came upon a small speck of blood not too far away, he had no choice but to give in and look away, it became too much, even for him. The small speck of blood was in fact somepony’s eyeballs, gouged right out of the skull of whoever they belonged to. He couldn’t bear the thought, and prayed that the pony was already dead when it happened.

He took a few steps away from the mutilated bodies, and as he turned around to examine the outskirts of the area instead, he caught a glimpse of the Stalker named Crescent in the corner of his eyes. His face was twisted in a mask alternating between nothingness, anger and sorrow. Clearly, he was trying to hold his emotions inside, fighting himself not to give in.

Unable to fight any longer, Crescent kicked a smoldering and soot stained cooking pot from the ground. It flew across the area hard, coming to a stop as it smashed straight into the body of the pony with no head. Crescent screamed in agony and fell to his knees, not stopping his cries until he smashed his face into the snow beneath him.

“Who the hell would do this…?” Sawblade whispered, having been quiet up to this point. He was standing next to Crescent, not moving an inch and without showing any emotion whatsoever. His eyes looked almost dead, the way they stared unto the bodies of their friends.

At the edge of the camp, Duskshine scanned the ground for any trace or clue as to what happened and who or what did it. Eventually, he found a partial print in the snow. “Crescent?” He called out, paying no attention to whether or not he listened to him. “There’s a print here… It’s… It’s not good.”

“What do you mean?” He heard Willow reply instead of Crescent, who probably still had his face buried in the snow.

“Well…” Duskshine began. “It’s not a hoof print.”

Instantly, Crescent’s face jolted back up from the snow, taking on a completely new expression of worry and even anger. Duskshine could see tears still running down his cheeks as he spoke.

“Please, don’t tell me it’s what I think it is…”

Duskshine pursed his mouth and frowned before nodding slowly. “It’s a foot print. From a shoe worn by a human.”

“You can’t be serious.” Sawblade said. “They don’t exist anymore.”

“And yet a human left this print here.” Duskshine responded.

Duskshine looked up from the print in the snow, just in time to see Crescent rise up from the ground and hurry over towards him with a frown over his face. He was taken back as the Stalker with red mane almost shoved his face into his own.

Crescent whispered slowly as he spoke to Duskshine. “If you tell me Dust made these prints and tore my friends apart, I’ll bag you and toss you to the Wraiths.”

Duskshine recoiled slightly from the Stalker, trying to calm him down. “I’m not saying it was him, but who else would it be? I mean…”

“He died a long time ago.”

“That I know, lad, but try to look at this rationally. He’s the only human to ever set foot in Equestria..”

“But to think he did this is an insult to his memory.” Crescent didn’t move his jaw as he spoke, his teeth clamped shut hard, creating a wheezing sound, coating his words with clear anger.

Duskshine went silent, having realized Crescent was unable to sway in his defense, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he defended a dead human in such a way. “Just calm down, alright?” He looked back down at the tracks. “We could follow them backwards, see where they came from.”

Crescent’s face didn’t move an inch as he answered. “Fine. Sawblade, Willow! Come one, we’re heading out…” He turned around to face the other stallions, only to realize that only Willow was left, standing on the opposite side of the campfire, his eyes averted from the bloody carnage in front of him.

“Willow, where’s Sawblade?” Duskshine yelled at him.

The Pegasus shrugged quickly, still not looking at them or the blood. The others scanned around the area, trying to distinguish any sign of the massive stallion, but he was nowhere to be seen. The snowfall around them was building up once again, and it had begun to disguise the blood and bodies in a thin layer of white powder. Soon, no more traces of the massacre would be left.

“We’d better hurry, or we’ll lose the tracks.” Crescent whispered as he squinted his eyes, searching for his companion within the white fog.

“Should we go on anyway?” Willow asked from where he stood.

“We can’t just leave him, you stupid colt.” Duskshine replied. “Whatever did this could still be out there…”

A few more minutes passed in silence as the three stallions awaited the fourth one, still lost somewhere in the mist. Willow still refused to look at the bodies, but by that time they had all but disappeared in the snow. Duskshine and Crescent circled around the camp, careful so as not to wander off too far. After a while, Crescent sat down on his haunches in the cold snow and sighed. He opened his mouth, and Duskshine realized he was just about to call out for the other Stalker.

Just as he drew in a deep breath, another voice echoed from the white mist around them, interrupting Crescent before he even had time to form his lips into words.

“Guys?” A black shape appeared in the fog in front of them. “Look who I just found lurking about.”

Crescent drew a sigh of relief as Sawblade finally emerged from the heavy snowfall. A few seconds later, and Duskshine sighed as well, but from annoyance rather than relief. As Sawblade came closer, another shape appeared behind him, moping slowly with its head low. The cloak it wore swayed in the wind around the blue unicorn.

“Lilith!” He shouted, quickly getting up and almost galloping over to her. “What in the name of Celestia are you doing here, you stupid girl?!”

Lilly still had her head low, clearly ashamed. If it was because she broke the rules of her village once again, or the fact that she was caught doing so was beyond Duskshine, and he didn’t care either. He was too upset with her to think about it.

“I just… I wanted to help.” Lilly responded, meekly.

“I told you to wait in Ashcraft!” Duskshine yelled before she could finish her sentence. “Remember what happened just a few days ago, when you went after that hat of yours? Remember how you almost got yourself killed?”

“Duskshine, I…”

“What if you ran into another Wraith, and I wasn’t there to help you this time? You know what happens to ponies that get pulled into them!” Duskshine’s anger seemed to build as he yelled, and Lilly seemed to get smaller, shrinking from shame as he towered above her.

“But… I thought this was my only chance to…” Lilly whispered. Her usual spirit and brash attitude gone, drifting away on the wind.

“Your chance to do what?” Duskshine spat out at her.

“To prove myself worthy… to be one of them.” Lilly slowly pointed a hoof towards Sawblade a Crescent. “… A Stalker.”

“The Elders would never allow that, Lilly. Not after this; you’ve broken the rules one to many times now. Damn it, lass, why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I just wanted to help others.” Lilly said, raising her head to look at Duskshine. Her eyes looked strange to him, tired and weak. Almost as if she’d been awake for days.

“You’re not going to help anypony by coming out here alone; you’ll just end up dead in a ditch somewhere!” Duskshine yelled back at her.

“She’s not alone.” A new voice floated by Duskshine’s ears, darker and a little bit more determined than the voice of Lilly, but he could still sense the insecurity in the words.

A moment later, a second pony emerged from behind Lilly, a grey little stallion walking on trembling legs. His black mane lashed across his face in the wind, Making Bucket look much older than he actually was.

“Oh, for the love of…” Duskshine rolled his eyes and sighed once again. “You too?”

“I’m… I’m a Stalker.” Bucket said with a quivering tone. “My place is with them.”

“No, you should rest, not be here.” Crescent said from behind them. “You shouldn’t be here, Bucket. Not after what you’ve been through.”

“I don’t give one or two shits about Bucket!” Duskshine lashed out, whether or not he shouted at Crescent or nopony in particular was anyone’s guess. “Lilly’s the one who’s just gone and fucked herself! Do any of you have any idea what the Elder will do to her, they’ll…”

Suddenly, Duskshine went silent, his mouth remaining open and his eyes wide as he just stared behind Lilly and Bucket. He seemed to have become completely frozen in place, unable to move, think or yell anymore. From the fog that had hidden Lilly and Bucket, something more emerged. He couldn’t decide what it was; it didn’t look natural to him.

It was as if the snow itself had broken apart, creating a thin sheet of purest white that drifted on its own through the wind. It shimmered slightly, and it reminded him of smoke. It took him several seconds to understand what he was actually looking at.

A pony. Not snow, not smoke, just a pony, dressed in a long white cloak, moving freely in the wind like ripples on water. The pony had a hood covering its entire face, and the cloak was so long, it became impossible for Duskshine to see if it was a mare or a stallion. The only thing he could gather from this strange visage was that it chilled him to the bone.

The cloaked pony walked past Lilly and Bucket, giving them a slow nod as it passed. Duskshine remained paralyzed as it walked up to him, placing itself next to him. He still couldn’t see its face due to the large hood that for some reason didn’t get blown off by the wind. Duskshine couldn’t blink as the pony turned its head towards him, and he was able to see its face.

Underneath the hood, a pair of dark violet eyes instantly met his own.

The face around them seemed almost perfectly shaped, like it had been chiseled painstakingly from nothing but the finest materials, perfected through years of work. It wore an almost arrogant look as it stared into his eyes, and Duskshine did his best to remember the face despite being paralyzed by some otherworldly force.

The dark violet eyes, a light, almost pink coat covering the masculine snout and defined jaw. The lone strands of dark blue mane covering part of the left side of the pony’s face. The strange shapes in its forehead, partially hidden beneath the mane and hood…

“So you decided to join us, Phantom?” Duskshine heard Crescent’s voice asking from behind him. “Don’t worry, Duskshine. He’s with us.”

The strange pony in white cloak turned away from him. Duskshine couldn’t help but think what a fitting name Phantom was for such an apparition.

“… Phantom, huh?” He whispered as he felt the paralysis let go of him. “Where did you come from? I didn’t see you earlier…”

“He doesn’t talk.” Crescent hurriedly replied. “He’s a mute, you see. He didn’t follow us into town, he was standing watch outside. Phantom, did you see anything of what happened here?”

Phantom shook his head without making a sound before slowly making his way around the camp, gracefully walking through the snow, almost floating.

“So what, you’re just gonnna believe him? Just like that, no more questions?” Duskshine said quickly. “For all I know, he was close by when this happened, he might of…” He went quiet as Phantom once again looked straight at him, and the chilling paralysis embraced his body once more.

“Yes, I believe him.” Crescent said. “And you’d do best to trust him, you don’t want to make him angry.”

“Uh… What about the tracks…? You guys forgotten about them?” Willow’s question took them all by surprise, effectively breaking the cloud of unease that had hung over them.

Duskshine nodded and removed himself from his place. He hurried cross the camp without looking over at Phantom, and quickly passed by the other Stalkers. They turned behind him and followed, and so did Lilly and Bucket.

“Oh no, missy.” Duskshine hollered at her. “You’re going to head back to town right now, and maybe you can avoid making the Elders even angrier with you.”

Lilly trotted up to him. “You know what?” She said. “I don’t care about the Elders, all they do is sit around in the dark and wither away like plants. If I’m going to become a Stalker, I have to be ready to put my own safety on the line to help others, right?”

She snapped her tail at him as she passed, her old attitude once again returned. It whipped him across the face. Duskshine sighed again, wondering if it was possible to sigh any deeper than he already had.

“She’s got some spunk, that one.” Crescent said with a low voice as he walked past Duskshine. “I’d watch myself around her I was you.”

Duskshine didn’t pay any attention to what the Stalker said, simply scoffing as he picked up his pace to follow the others. Despite the heavy snowfall, they could still make out a few foot prints from time to time, and it let them further away from the camp and into the wilderness.

The longer they walked, the colder it became, and an unsettling silence crept in on them, nestling itself in, around and between them. It was so strong; one could almost feel it pressing against the skin, trying to make its way into their hearts and minds.

Crescent led the way, as he was clearly the leader of the group, and he seemed to be skilled in tracking prey. Lilly walked somewhere in the middle, with Bucket in front of her and the odd stallion called Phantom behind her. She didn’t like the idea of having him so close behind her, but was glad that it wasn’t Sawblade instead. Thinking back to what he said back at the inn when he saw her, she dreaded what he might do if he was behind her.

At the end of the line, furthest back of the group, was Duskshine. After his encounter with Phantom, something seemed to had changed about him, and he didn’t say a word as they walked. Lilly was used to hearing him curse and talk about mares, and the almost strained silence he’d taken on worried her a bit.

Eventually, trees began to materialize within the fog, soon followed by rocks, cliffs, frozen bushes and dead branches. Snow and ice covered the landscape around them, the dead trees looking more like ice poles, covered in thin branches without any leaves. They reminded the ponies of the legs of spiders, and they almost felt the thin branches trying to creep after them as they passed.

The forest around them grew thicker, and the cold became sharper, burning their throats as they breathed. Somepony coughed, sending a small wisp of fog sailing through the rest of the group.

“Hold up.”

Crescent’s voice broke the silence that had threatened to shatter them all just moments earlier. The others stopped, taking a moment to look around them. They had stopped on what looked to be an old road, but upon closer inspection, Duskshine could make out the pattern of railroad tracks in the snow.

He looked in both directions, trying to remember where it led, but was interrupted by the voice of Crescent asking him a question.

“Do you know where this leads?”

“Well…” Duskshine began slowly. “If my memory isn’t too fucked, I’d say... we have Canterlot to the west and Baltimare to the east. We came from the north, so it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out which way is which.”

“Hm… The tracks end here… right there on the other side, see?” Crescent said.

“Yeah. As far as I know, there’s nothing but forest past here, and then a river… Doubt he came from there.”

“We don’t know that it’s him.”

“Who else then?” Duskshine whispered back.

Crescent didn’t respond. Duskshine didn’t have time to ask him again, and nopony else from the group had time to react, as the air around them was suddenly filled with arrows flying at them out of nowhere. They hit the ground, forming lines around the group of ponies that instinctively closed in around each other, trying to keep a look out on ever side.

“Bleakers!”

More arrows sailed through the air, and Duskshine wasn’t sure who it was that yelled. The white mist around them seemed to be ripped apart by the black lines of death raining upon them. Somepony yelled out in pain, and he heard the sound of a blade being drawn from its sheath. Upon looking around, he could see that the sound had come from Sawblade that now held his massive claymore clamped firmly between his teeth with a look of determination.

“Stay together, keep close!” The stallion shouted through his gritted teeth.

Duskshine saw Crescent move, and something gleamed like metal around his hooves, and he then pulled the goggle he’d worn on his forehead down over his eyes, pulling the scarf up around his mouth and chin. They were the only ones armed and Duskshine cursed himself for being so stupid for not bringing a weapon with him. Behind him, Lilly, Bucket and Willow huddled close, trying to keep away from the arrows.

He could see Bucket swaying back and forth, an arrow embedded deep into one of his legs. He realized it was the young colt that had yelled as the arrow hit him, and he hoped that the wound wasn’t too bad.

“What the hell do we do now?!” Willow’s voice called out to anyone in the group that would listen.

And then just as suddenly as it had begun, the arrows stopped. The group panted as silence lowered itself upon them, and Crescent, Sawblade and Phantom quickly placed themselves in a protective circle around the others, ready for a quick assault from the enemy. Not even the wind howled anymore, and the tension was pressing down hard upon them.

“Did they… Did they give up?” Bucket whispered from his place within the circle, his voice trembling and weak.

“Bleakers never give up.” Sawblade said back to him. “You’d better get ready to fight or run.”

And as on a given cue, loud shouts tore through the wind, and several shapes came running towards the group through the snow, primitive weapons ready to cut through flesh and shatter bones. All around them, ponies almost as pale as the snow rushed, yelling their battle cries at the top of their lungs.

Instantly, Crescent and Sawblade rushed towards the enemies ranks, ready to fight to the death. Once again, arrows came soaring through the sky, missing the two Stalkers with mere inches. Crescent ducked and weaved forward before planting his back hooves hard into the ground, launching himself forward towards the Bleakers. Sawblade dove to the side, twisting his neck as he did in order to straighten the blade he held.

For Duskshine, the world seemed to slow down as the Stalkers approached the pale ponies. For a second, he could see the gleam of metal around Crescent’s hooves, and finally understood what it was. Blades had been placed around his hooves, held tightly in place with leather bindings and strange contraptions from which the blades sprung out in the blink of an eye.

He saw the sharp edge of Sawblade’s claymore sailing towards the throat of one of the Bleakers, about to slice it open like a warm knife through butter. He saw the arrows coming towards him, painfully slow as they sailed through the air.

Then reality hit him once again, as Crescent landed on top of one of the pale ponies, jabbing both his hoof blades deep into its face. It didn’t even have time to scream, as the metal tore into its brain, killing it instantly. Sawblade’s claymore hit spot on, and a sickening sound filled the air as it cut through skin, muscle, flesh and even bone.

Duskshine could feel his legs tremble slightly as blood sprayed upon the ground, coating both Crescent and Sawblade before they instantly set upon the next pony. They fought like wild savages, yelling and panting as the Bleakers fell to their blades. But no matter how hard they fought and no matter how much blood they spilled, the pale ponies only came closer.

“Crescent, what the fuck do we do?!” Duskshine yelled. “There’s too many of them!”

Crescent didn’t look at him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the enemy for even a second, or he’d be sliced open like a pig. “I-…” He shouted as he stabbed his blades into the throat of his adversary. ”… Run, get out of here!”

Duskshine hesitated, hearing Lilly say something behind her.

“No buts!” Crescent screamed. “Just go!”

Seconds later, they ran through the forest without any knowledge as to where they were headed. They ran in panic, doing as they’d been told. If they hadn’t they would all probably been cut down. Duskshine rushed as fast as he could, weaving back and forth between the thin birch trees that surrounded him. He could hear panting and wheezing close by, and he hoped they belonged to the Stalkers of one of the kids, but his mind told him they might as well be that of the Bleakers.

As he emerged from the treeline, a river came into his view. It was covered by a layer of ice, but further up the stream there was nothing but gushing water. He headed towards it, hoping he could lose the pursuers within the chilling depths of the river.

As he came closer, he could see the silhouettes of a few ponies emerging from the treeline up ahead. Thankfully it was Just Lilly and Willow, but before he could catch up to them they’d rushed out on the ice. Neither of them had any idea if it was thick enough to carry their weight, but the panicked situation had caused them to thrown away any and all caution.

He ran past them, his eyes fixed on the water ahead. Branches cracked close by, and angered yells reached his ears. He picked up pace, still certain he could feel the Bleakers breathing down his neck.

Something hit his shoulder hard. He felt it sink deep into his flesh, and the impact caused him to ricochet to the side. A split second later, he heard the distinct sound of cracking ice followed by terrified yells.

His body hit the water, and he felt himself drift away.