“Another case solved, thanks to the great Marelock Holmes!” She tips her hat and gives a single nod. The police applaud as a few of them escort the three murderers into the police carriage. Neighson turns to Marelock, still a bit confused.

“I’m amazed that you were able to figure out it was all three of them that killed Mr. Fillyton, but how did the idea of them all being in on it come to mind?” She shrugs and shakes her head in disappointment.

“All three had motives, all three had clues leading to them, and the poor stallion had three stab wounds in three different areas. Simple math dictated it, my dear Neighson.” Neighson’s mouth gapes as the simple fact sinks in. Marelock pats him on the shoulder and smiles.

“That is why you’re the assistant and I’m the detective. Come, let us head home.” They venture back onto the busy streets, making their way to their houses. These two were in need of well-deserved rest until their next case.

You close the book and place it to your side. A happy ending as always, but with more to come. Small snores bring your attention over to the bunk bed across from you, where a very tired Pinkie lies inside the luggage compartment. Last night you remember putting her in the top bunk.

How she got up there, or why for that matter, you’ll never know. The party last night really took a toll on her, even if she is a party animal at heart. Doing a cider barrel stand doesn't exactly leave you lively the next day. Looking out the window, you see the familiar scenery of trees and grass as the train passes them by.

You’re almost home. Reaching over, you give Pinkie a shake and attempt to wake her up. She swats your hand away in frustration as she rolls over. This mare is stubborn when it comes to sleep. An idea pops into your head.

“Wow, cotton candy filled with chocolate malt balls!” Her entire upper body jerks up almost instantly, smacking her head against the ceiling.

“Ow!” You begin to laugh hysterically as she rubs her hoof against her forehead. “That wasn’t funny, Anon!”

“I-It was hilarious to me!” you breathe, trying to suppress your laughter. She lies back down and covers her head with the pillow, attempting to block out your laughs. A hard knock emits from your cabin door. You open the door and look down at the porter. He steps back quickly, looking at this strange beast staring down at him.

“Yes?” you ask in quiet tone, attempting to calm him. Shaking his head, he clears his throat and looks back at you.

“My apologies for being rude. The train is almost to Ponyville. Please be prepared to leave.” You give him a nod and close the door as he still eyes your eerily. Another prank pops into your head as your turn back to Pinkie. You grab a hold of the entire bunk with a sinister smile and begin to violently shake it.

“EARTHQUAKE!” you scream into her ear. Her eyes shoot open as she scrambles around, attempting to gain some sort of ground. After a few seconds, she begins to giggle as she realizes the cause of this ‘earthquake’. You stop the shaking and allow her to get up.

“The train’s going to stop soon. We’re almost home.” Jumping from the bed, she shakes her entire body like a wet dog, fixing her messy mane into her signature bouncy style. As quickly as you brought up your finger, you lower it. Maybe it was best not to question how she did that. The train slowly comes to a stop as the whistle sounds out through the windows.

Grabbing your luggage, you begin to head out as the hallway floods with ponies. A few foals stare at you in awe as their parents turn their heads away, telling them it’s rude to stare. As you make your way out onto the platform, the cool air rushes over you. It felt nice to be away from that stuffy, humid climate.

Pinkie happily bounces alongside you as you both head to the main road. Once there, you both stop. She lives at Sugar Cube corner on the east side of town whereas you live on the west side of town. You turn to her and wave your hand.

“Well, this is where we split up for now.” She gives you a nod, followed by her signature smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Zecora’s. Maybe she’ll have a ‘reward’ for you,” she says slyly, nudging your leg and giving you a wink.

“Damn it, Pinkie,” you reply, beginning your walk onto the road. There were a few places you needed to pass by before heading home. With a sack filled with bits, it was time to get some things you needed.

... And a few you ‘wanted’.

As you walk around the market square, something catches your eye. Rarity is at one of the stands, buying what appears to be cloth. But it’s not the pony that catches your eye, it’s the diamond dog standing next to her. She hands over the cloth to the diamond dog as they begin to make their way down the street, heading towards your direction. Rarity takes notice of your presence and smiles.

“Oh, Anon darling! It has been quite a while since I’ve last seen you.” Her happy expression quickly fades away as she looks at you from head to toe. “And I see your clothes have been through a lot the past few days.”

You look down at your clothing and quickly see what she’s going on about. Holes riddle your pants and tears spread across your shirt.

“Yeah, I had a crazy time in Appleloosa.” Your eyes quickly dart towards the diamond dog who’s glaring daggers at you.

“What are you doing out of prison so soon?” Rarity steps in before the diamond dog can respond.

“If you must know, Lucy here has decided to work for me in order to compensate the damages she committed upon my store. Probation, if you will.”

“And if she was to attack you?” you ask, not breaking eye contact with Lucy.

“Anonymous, please. Just because I’m a lady, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.” Finally breaking your eye contact, you turn your head back to Rarity.

“Oh, really?” You look at Lucy and fall to the ground, pretending to faint. Lucy begins to snicker but immediately stops as Rarity shoots a glare at her.

“I was taken off guard from my sleepy state. Besides, just because I’m with her doesn’t mean she isn’t being watched.” She points up to sky where two pegasus guards hover not too far away.

“Well, as long as she’s not wreaking havoc and doesn’t do anything stupid, I couldn’t care less.” It was a good thing that she might be changing for good, but she was still not trustworthy. A thief was still a thief. If she did resort to her old way in the end, however, that just meant another bounty for you.

“Oh yeah, before I forget, Rarity...” She gives you a confused look as you reach into your pockets and pull out your sack of dosh. “... I need some new clothes. The usual stuff, no jewels and whatnot.” She mutters something about ‘not respecting fashion’ as you hand her ten bits.

“Give me about a day and I’ll have it done. Come along now, Lucy.” They take their leave as you continue your adventure towards home. You grab your essentials from the stands: Some food and booze. Placing them into your duffel bag, you head towards the one place you dreaded to go to.

With a deep sigh, you press open the door of the treebrary and walk inside. Twilight looks up from her book and smiles.

“Oh, hi Anon! Here to return the Marelock book?” You cringe as you reach into duffel bag and pull it out. She takes it with her magic and inspects it, noticing the scratches and bent corner. Her sweet attitude changes to a sour one almost instantly.

“I know you had a rough time in Appleloosa,” she starts, eyeing your clothes, “but did you read the book in the midst of battle or something?”

“Sorry Twilight, it was an accident.”

A complete lie.

“I’m sorry, but I still have to give you a fine for this.”

“How much do I owe you?” you say, pulling out your sack of cash. She looks the book over once more, then back to you.

“Two bits.” You hand her the money without question and place the sack back into your pocket. She places the book onto the shelf and sits back down.

"So how did your bounty go?" Taking a seat on the floor next to her, you tell her all about what happened in Appleloosa. Meeting Braeburn, getting your ass handed to you by Billie, getting him back with a Rube Goldberg Machine, even the details about the party after when Pinkie did a barrel stand with cider. Twilight seemed fascinated about your Goldberg machine after you went into depth about it.

"Why did you use one? Why didn't you just make a normal trap?" You begin rubbing your hand against the floor, trying to think of a way to explain it.

"Well, as much as I'd hate to say it, Billie and I are the same in a lot of ways. We're both not that bright. I'm easily impressed by simple machines so I assumed he would be too. With him being distracted, it gave me enough time to get a running start into my kick. And it worked."

"And what if the machine hadn't worked?" Looking down, you think about her question.

"I didn't even think of a back up plan." She gives an annoyed sigh and shakes her head.

"Just be glad it worked, I guess. And you aren't dumb, Anon, just not book smart." Never thought of it like that before.

"Maybe one day I can change that. With your help, of course."

"I'd be more than happy to help," she tells you with a smile. It quickly fades away as her head gears toward the Marelock Holmes book. "...As long as my books come back in one piece." Scratching the back of your head nervously, she breaks into laughter

"Well, I better take my leave. I still need to get back to my house and unpack. Mind if I grab the next copy of Marlock Holmes already?"

"Sure, just please be careful with it." Closing the door behind you, you make your way towards home. The afternoon sun beamed from overhead, leaving a nice warm touch to the cool winds passing by. Lots of ponies roam the streets, busy with their everyday lives. It was so nice to see them walking around without a care in the world. After a bit of walking, you eventually reach your humble abode. Swinging open the front door, you drop the duffel bag down onto a chair and lay upon your bed, sensually rubbing up against it. God, how you missed your own bed. Getting up from the bed, you make your way to the kitchen and place a kettle on the stove. A cup of tea sounded good right about now.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

Not even ten minutes back and someone’s already looking to bother you.

“Who is it?” you yell from the kitchen.

“The hunter is who I want to see, behind the door you know who it be.”
Jumping through the kitchen doorway, you run and open the door. Zecora stands in the doorway, a smirk plastered on her face.

“Come in, oh great master,” you sarcastically reply. She raises an eyebrow and accepts your invitation. Removing the kettle from the stove, you grab two cups and make way towards the dining table where Zecora has taken a seat. Placing the kettle down on table, you hand her a cup.

“Thank you very much for the tea. Now enough stalling. How went the bounty?” You stop mid-pour and put the kettle down.

“I got the bounty, but not without a loss.” Reaching over for your duffel bag, you dig inside and pull out whatever is left of your staff. You place it on the table as Zecora looks at it, shaking her head.

“I knew a week would not do, but I am glad you made it through.” Grabbing the kettle again, you continue to pour your tea.

“You know, if it weren’t for that staff and your bit of training, I’d probably be dead right now.” You proceed to tell her about the fight with Billie, how Pinkie ended up saving your sorry ass, and how you caught Billie in the end with your trap. She casually sips at her tea as she listens to the story.

“Your instincts are set to drive, but you are very lucky to be alive.” Looking down into your cup, you nod.

“There is one thing that bothers me.” You look up from your cup and slide the staff over to her. “I had the bartender almost drop my drink when he saw my staff. Care to explain?”

She takes another sip of her tea, her face now completely serious.

“There are things you do not know, and it is best if we keep it so.” You give her a stern look and fold your hands together.

“Listen, if it didn’t concern me, why would this bartender tell me to ‘be wary’ of you? At least answer me this...” You take the staff and point at the strange markings. “These markings have a deeper meaning. Care to explain?” She lets out a disgruntled sigh and puts her cup down.

“The markings on your staff stand for my clan, a family, if you will, a marking, a stand. We were once fearsome, unmatched and great, only to fall in on our weight.” Zecora closes her eyes and shakes her head.

“Another day I will tell you more, the details will get deep, but for now it is best that you just lie down and sleep. We have a long day tomorrow at dawn, so get your rest, I don’t want to see a single yawn.” She steps down from her seat and begins to head towards the door as you clean up the table. After showing her out, you finish your usual chores. Dusting is complete, dinner is eaten, and a long, warm shower is taken. Looking out the window, you see the night has consumed the sky with stars and the moon. It was best to get to bed early so you would have the energy for tomorrow. Placing yourself between the warm sheets, you quickly nod off into dreamland.

No matter how many times you walk through this place, it always freaks you out. Seeing the eyes watch you through the leaves of the trees always make you nervous. After a short walk through the usual path in the Everfree Forest, you come to the familiar little hut. You knock on the door and Zecora’s head pokes through the crack of the door.

“Stay out here, I shall return. There is something important you must learn.” She heads inside the small home as you take a seat on the ground. Crossing your legs, you look around at your surroundings. You’ve been through here many times, but you’ve never actually taken the time to look at it. A soft light shines from above, warming the small area. The small pond remains perfectly still, clear enough to see the bottom’s surface.

After admiring the scenery for a few minutes, the front door creaks open, breaking the silence. Zecora exits the hut with an axe and knife in her mouth and gives them to you.

“What’s this for?” you question.

“Without a staff you are useless and weak, so a new staff is what we seek.” It takes a bit to process what she means, but after a few seconds it finally clicks. You were going to make a staff of your own.

“Do I just pick out any random tree or is there some special ‘tradition’ to this?”

“Pick out a tree that is sturdy and good, make sure to have consent from that piece of wood.” Looking around, you inspect the trees in the vicinity. What were you looking for exactly? Not many of these trees were different; they all seemed the same.

“Is this some kind of test? I don’t really see a difference in these trees.” Zecora takes a seat on a tree stump and lets out a long sigh.

“Your staff is your protector. It will be your partner for life. You must find a tree that will not cause any strife. Use your senses and your mind, then the perfect staff you will find.” You remember some pony telling you that everything was pretty much sentient in the Everfree Forest. It sounded crazy, but maybe if you focus...

Placing your hand on the nearest tree, you let go of all noise and distractions and close your eyes. A faint whisper can be heard.

“I do not wish to be your weapon. I am but a simple tree and have no need to leave my current life.” This was weird. Was this tree... talking to you?

“Are you talking to me? Or have I finally hit the point of insanity from all of Pinkie’s jokes?”

“I am indeed talking to you, warrior. You are quite a special one. It takes others many years of training to be able to emit your sense of focus.”

“How did you know that I planned to make you into a weapon?” The tree’s voice grows from a whisper to a subtle murmur.

“We hear everything that goes on around us. The animal’s calls, the wind’s howling; we hear it all. There is bound to be a tree here who is willing to give themselves to you, but I am not this tree.” Letting go of the tree, you look around. The noises of the forest begin to rush into your ears as you lose the focus you had. You turn to Zecora who is now nodding her head.
>It seems she knew this would happen.

‘She probably slipped some serious shit into my drink last night,’ you think to yourself. ‘Might as well make the most out of this, then.’ Turning to the next tree, you place your hand on its body and focus.

“Dude, you gotta help me! The squirrel knows too much man! Kill him please!” You quickly let go, giving a the tree a strange look and moving onto the next one.

“You got some soft hands there. Want a dab of my maple syrup, baby?” Letting go, you think to yourself, ‘What the fuck is wrong with these trees?!’ As you continue on, it’s apparent that trees have the weirdest personalities. Some have murderous intent, some wish to be left alone, some just plain freak you out. After having a few conversations, you come across a particular tree. The branches were short and the trunk was small. Placing your hand against the rough bark, you listen to its raspy voice.

“I will take the challenge.”

“Are you sure about this? Once I cut you down, you won’t be able to go back to your former state.”

“I have watched you since you first started training, Anon. You do not give up, no matter the challenge. I, myself, am considered a failure of a tree. My branches are too short to harbor a family of birds and my body leaves little room for anything else. I would much rather live a life of adventure than sit here with no purpose.”

“Alright then,” you mumble. You grab the axe and swing with full force at the trunk. The tree lets out a blood-curdling scream as the axe breaks through the timber.

“Son of a bitch! That hurts like a motherfucker!”

“Are you alright? Are you sure you want me to continue?”

“Go ahead, just ignore me. I must overcome this,” it whimpers. Pulling the blade out, you rear back and swing again.

“Fuck that hurts!” Another swing. “Ah! Bitch tits!” This goes on for every swing you take into this tree before it falls over. The screaming turns to silence as it hits the ground. Knocking on the bark, you listen for anything.

“You still with me buddy?” You hear a whimper, then a groan, then silence. Standing up, you put your hand to your chest and give the tree a moment of silence. Zecora breaks the silence and instructs you to measure the tree according to your arm length, adding an extra foot or two before she lulls herself back into a meditation state.. After quite a bit of swinging at top part and bark, you are finally left with seven foot long chunk of wood. Grabbing the knife, you begin to slowly cut away at the timber until it’s at a reasonable diameter. Once completed, you turn to Zecora, hands aching from the work.

“It’s done.” She opens her eyes, slowly walks over and looks at the roughly chopped stick.

“For a novice, this was crafted well. However, it is not something I would sell.” She heads into the house, motioning you to follow her. Staff in hand, you enter the small house and look around. Nothing has changed since your last visit. She opens the drawer of a dresser, grabs a piece of sandpaper, and gives it to you. You take the sandpaper and begin to scratch the rough surface down to a smooth one.

“Your hands are good with wood, even with your rough stroke.” Looking up from the staff, you stare right into her eyes. She looks at you, confused, before she realizes what she said. With a blush, she waves her hoof in the air.

“I did not mean it like that! I would not resort to a Pinkie joke.” Giving a quick chuckle at her embarrassment, you return to sanding the staff.

“I used to do some carpentry work. They had us go through woodshop in school where we learned how to work with... well, wood.” After a little while, you lift the staff up over your head.

“This would be cooler if I had the Zelda chime play,” you whisper. Zecora raises her brow in confusion. “Never mind, just some stupid human tradition. So what do we do from here?”

She moves from her spot and grabs the staff. Placing it down on the table, she inspects it from top to bottom. She grabs the knife with her mouth and begins to carve strange symbols into it. Once the staff is covered with them, she turns to a cauldron and dips a cloth inside. She rubs the staff with a sap-like liquid to give it a finishing coat. After allowing it to dry, she gives it to you.

“It is done, please handle it with care. Unlike your other one, it should prove to be fair.” Grabbing the staff, you give it a twirl and smack the ground with it. It was a lot lighter and sturdier than your last one. Turning back to Zecora, you raise the staff and get into your stance.

“How about we give it a go?”

It’s been four months since you made your new staff, and boy, did you learn quite a bit. The first month, Zecora taught you further on how to focus yourself. She would have you stand up on the familiar waterfall, but she also had other exercises. You didn’t know how much apples actually hurt until she used them as weapons for a training exercise. She would have you stand up straight, while in focus, and peg you with them to break your focus.

Needless to say, apples are painful as fuck.

You would come home with bruises across your chest, arms, and legs. The next month was focused on precision. Again, using apples: Zecora would throw them at you as you swatted them out of the air. The first few days you came home with the same bruises, but after a week or so, you finally got the hang of it. Smacking the apples out of the air was easy... until she started throwing two or three at once.

You were pretty sure that if she would throw baskets of them at you given the chance. Each day, Zecora would have you go to Sweet Apple Acres and grab a basket filled with old, rotten apples. Applejack had no objections with this routine; getting rid of those bad apples was “No skin off my nose,” as she would say.

The last two months consisted of non-stop beatings. Well, it was considered ‘sparring’ with Zecora, but it felt more like daily beat downs. After an hour or so of focus training, Zecora would spar with you in different areas of the forest. On the cliff, in the shallow streams, on top a pile of rocks, in the trees; it got pretty intense at times but it would always end with you on your ass, layered in bruises. But, you have definitely improved since the first time. Your supply of money was beginning to thin again, so it was about time you began looking for a new bounty. Pinkie had told you she would give you a heads up if anything popped up.

As the morning sun rose, you ripped the sheets off yourself and stretched out your aching muscles. Maybe a hot shower would help. Jumping into the warm water, you feel the soreness lift as the heat clears it away. Looking down at your body, the bruises layer your body from neck to toe. After a few minutes, you get out of the shower and dry yourself off. You look at the mirror and notice the difference in your body underneath the markings. Your muscles have increased in size quite noticeably.

Getting dressed, you complete your usual morning chores and head out the door. First destination is Sweet Apple Acres as usual. The birds begin to chirp as the sun comes into full view. Walking down the path, you finally arrive at your destination. You give the front door three hardy knocks and wait. Applejack opens the door and smiles.

“Here fer the usual, Anon?”

“Yep. Same as always.” You both make your way towards the barn where she stored the rotting apples and begin filling the basket up.

“So, how goes the bounty huntin’? Anything come up yet?” Shaking your head, you continue your shoveling.

“Nah, it’s been slow lately. And I’m starting to run low on bits. I had to replace my oven because it busted.” This was an obvious a lie. You are just horrible at managing money. On your days off from training, you would go spending your money on fancy food and booze. All you have left is a hundred bits. It seems like a lot, but it would only last you a couple more weeks if you kept up your usual spending habits. A shadow quickly consumes the inside of the barn. Both you and Applejack turn to the barn door, where an out of breath Pinkie stands, holding a newspaper in her mouth.

“Abob! I bod a dew roudy!”

“Pinkie, you’re going to have to take that newspaper out of your mouth.” She walks up to you, spits out the paper, and gives it to you.

“I found a new bounty! Look!” Grabbing the paper by the edges, you avoid the spit and open it up. Two unicorns are displayed, standing in front of a machine that looks almost like a car. One has a manly mustache and the other is without facial hair. Looking over it, they have charges for embezzlement, fraud, property damage, and assault. Skimming it over once more, you notice the name of this duo.

“The Flim Flam Brothers?” Pinkie jumps up to cover your mouth but is too late. Applejack’s eyes widen upon hearing the names. She sticks her head out the barn door and lets out a mighty yell.

“Big Mac! Do me a favor and pack ma bags. Ah’m going on a trip.” She turns to the ropes hanging on the wall and begins going through them. “Ah’m gonna need two ropes for this one.”

Pinkie slaps you on the back of your head.

“Darn it, Anon!”