When They Come: Pt. 4

>The hill looms up in front of you forebodingly as you approach. The slowly setting sun lights up the grass and soil in an eerie yellow orange glow, and even the clouds seem to have dark bellies rather than silver linings.
>Your mouth started to go dry a while ago, but now you feel it in full. The graininess of your taste buds move like sandpaper across the roof of your mouth almost painfully. You’re sweating too, but if you wanted to you could blame that on the warm summer weather. Either way, Twilight doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. Her sights are set on the hill in front of you.
“Is this the place?”
“Yes.”
>Even your words sound dry and raspy. It’s not that you’re feeling fear so much as anticipation. This is where you’ll find out if what you saw was real. This is where you’ll know if this monster is just another animal or...
“Let’s get started then,” Twilight says.
>The two of you spread out, your backs facing each other and your noses facing the ground. You’re not sure what exactly you’re looking for, but you suspect you’ll know it when you see it and that Twilight will too.
>As you near the place where you woke up, you spot a strange splotchy patch of earth where even the grass looks black in the quickly dying light of day. With a sickening sensation you realize that it’s blood, a mixture of your own and Marigold’s. You take a slow breath to steady yourself before calling Twilight.
“Hey, Twilight? You should probably come over here.”
>She trots briskly over, notepad glowing purple and hovering at the ready in front of her. She spots the stain and halts abruptly mid stride.
“I-is that what I think it is?” she stammers. She looks as if she may vomit.
>You simply nod to her in response.
>It’s strange, you notice, how fast she seems to switch between emotions. She so quickly jumps from being coldly efficient, even cruel, to fragile and ready to shatter. It leaves you uncertain if you should offer comfort in the way of a hug or kind word or just wait for the next inevitable shift.
>Twilight clears her throat and, sure enough the calculatingly objective pony is back in place of this quavering one.
“Alright, that means that if there’s any evidence of the killer left it should be nearby here,” she says.
“Right.”
“Keep your eyes on the ground, there could be fur, footprints, something.”
>Her eyes are already there, scanning the earth intently. You follow suit and walk away from the stain, very glad to do so. Anything to get away from that place where Marigold began to die. Not even a moment has passed before you hear Twilight call out.
“Anon I think...I think I’ve found something.”
>You walk to where she’s standing. She's making a small sketch on the notepad of something she’s pointing to with one hoof on the ground.
“Twilight, wha-"
>You stop mid sentence and swallow the rest of the words. You blink slowly, hoping that it will just go away, but it’s still there when you open your eyes again.
“I’ve never seen an animal with feet like that before,” Twilight says. “It makes very strange tracks.”
“I have,” you say numbly.
“What do you mean?”
>The footprint is dried into the mud, defined perfectly in its lines and tread. The squares around the rim, the small clover-like indents where the heel and ball of the foot is. There’s absolutely no mistaking it for anything other than a boot print. Not quite military, but something meant for hard work. It's big too.
>You know you can’t put it off any longer, and you choose your words carefully.
“Twilight,” you say haltingly. “This is a shoeprint. Like the kind I wear. This was made by a human.”
>Twilight gasps and takes a few quick steps away from you.
“But…but there’s only one human here and that’s you! Oh...oh Anon did you...”
>She’s gone pale and continues to back away from you.
“No!” you almost yell. “Hell no, look, this isn’t even my shoe!”
>You raise your foot to show her the worn tread on your own shoes, nearly slick from use. Then, you hold your foot over the print to show how much bigger it is than your own. And yes, it’s considerably bigger. Twilight sighs and a little color seems to come back to her cheeks. She walks back towards you and you can see that she believes you.
“Ok, I’m sorry," she says softly. "It’s just that I’ve never seen another human.”
“I know, but this means that there’s another one here in Equestria.”
“One that kills Ponies.”
“When I blacked out up here, that first time, I remembered something but I thought it was my imagination,” you admit.
>Twilight stares hard into your face, inspecting your bleak expression, and the note pad again hovers next to her shoulder.
“Tell me everything this time, don’t leave it out right now even if you think you imagined it.”
>You agree and begin to describe the face. Pale skin, a smile, very tall. It’s not much but it’s all you have. As you talk the sun slips lower and lower along the hills and your shadows stretch longer and longer. By the time you finish, the sun has nearly set.
“Twilight,” you say, rubbing your bare arms. “It’s getting dark. We need to get back, I’m sure Rainbow Dash and her pegasi have stopped patrolling. Don’t want the mayor to get on us about disobeying curfew on the first night.”
“Goodness, I hadn’t noticed it was getting so late. Sure, we can come back tomorrow, at least we have something to go on now.”
>You both turn towards the path back, but neither of you take a step. You scarcely even breathe.
>A tightness grows in your chest and instinctively you reach out to touch Twilight’s shoulder, just to know where she is in relation to you should you need to run. The sounds around you seem to mute, focusing all your power of sense straight ahead on what you’re seeing.
>There’s a figures standing between you and the path.
>For what feels like an eternity, nothing moves. Then, all at once, sound seems to start up again as you hear Twilight’s voice.
“Who goes there?” she demands.
>She takes a step in front of you, lowering her head a little to brandish her horn. You’d always thought of yourself as the protector here, but now it’s Twilight who stands between you and this figure.
>The figure makes no sound, but takes a step forward.
“Stay there, identify yourself,” she says louder.
>But it doesn’t stay there. A second and third step follow, picking up speed. In the remaining light of day you see a glint of metal.
“Twilight, RUN!” you yell.
>She spins at your words, dropping any guise of being your protector, and begins to gallop away from the figure. You sprint to stay alongside her. For an insane moment, you wonder if she’s big enough to ride.
>Behind you, you can hear the footfalls of the figure quickening to keep pace with you. Faster than you.
>You push your muscles to go, but you still feel weak from the previous evening’s blood loss. You make your mind go back to that place it was when you carried the dying pony. Just a few more steps, just a few more. Almost there, keep going.
>Twilight is still running faster than you, but you focus your eyes on the purple flash of motion as best you can as she pulls away. Things are getting fuzzy. You hear breathing, raspy and loud, and realize that it’s your own.
>Almost there, keep going.
>You risk a glance over your shoulder. Silhouetted there, much farther back than you’d though, is the figure. The metal in his hand glints, long and thin, maybe a pipe. He's tiring out, you think to yourself. We might get away. We can make it. You turn back to look for Twilight and spot the rock a moment before your leg strikes it.
>You don’t feel the pain, just the impact. The strange wrenching of your leg back jars the rest of your body. The rhythm of your stride demands that your foot come down now, here. It doesn’t. Your body lurches forward as your foot finds only air.
>You are falling.
>Still, somehow your body demands you run, keep going. Time slows down as your sail through the air. You flail forward, half stumbling, half crawling for one more step before you tumble to the ground. You taste dirt, grass. You feel the moisture of the earth and the stretch and tear of a rock taking some skin off of your elbow.
>In a heartbeat, things snap back to real time. You spin, trying to get up, but now a spike of pain shoots up through your leg. You cry out in shock and your vision becomes white stars. Things swirl, but they stabilize quickly. Just in time for you to see the figure approaching.
>You can see now that he’s wearing a hooded sweatshirt and dark pants, maybe jeans. He’s also at least six feet tall, maybe much more than that though it's hard to tell from here on the ground, and he’s very skinny. He’s also only a few steps away from you now.
>No time to get up. No time to run. You brace yourself to fight, though you know you won’t have much of a chance from the ground.
>Seeing you’re not moving, he slows his pace. You recognize a shadowed smile from under his hood.
“You again?” the voice is low, not gravely but a bit hoarse as if he has a sore throat. “Surprised you survived that blow to the head.”
>You look for a comeback, but your mouth just moves, open and shut like a fish.
“Ah well,” the figure shrugs. “What doesn’t kill you usually succeeds in the second attempt.”
>He raises the piece of metal, and you can see now in the contrast from the sky that it’s a crowbar. It hangs there in the air, poised to come down on your head. You grit your teeth and prepare to duck out of the way, attempt to roll. Anything to give yourself a few more seconds to think.
>You don’t get the chance.
>A purple form bursts forward past you. With a cry, Twilight charges the figure, planting her head hard into his ribs. The figure lets out a shout of surprise and pain as he tumbles backwards with Twilight falling after.
>You scramble up just in time to see Twilight pull backwards, the tip of her horn dark with blood. It glows purple and the blood flicks off onto the grass. She turns to the downed figure, horn alight and ready for some spell, some way to keep him down for good. But she turns too late.
>You watch, frozen, as the figure swings his arm, grunting in pain and grasping at his ribs with his other hand. The metal flashes, and you see Twilight’s eyes widen. It’s happening too fast for you to stop it, but you yell, reaching for her.
“Twilight!”
>The blow connects. Twilight flies back, the light going out of her horn, to land limply on the ground with a thud. She tumbles over and over, legs lifelessly flailing like paper streamers. She at last comes to a stop, laying motionless on her side. Her eyes are closed and there’s a massive gash on the side of her face. Blood leaks from it freely.
>She could have gotten away. She could have kept running. She came back for you, it’s your fault she’s laying there. She could have gotten away...
>You turn back to her attacker, and now it’s your turn to react too slowly. The figure is standing now, and the blow meant for you is already cocked back. The crowbar comes abruptly across his body towards your head.
>You look up into his face, eyes dilating, and see that same smile as before with that same joy and malice.
>The crowbar meets your head, and you hear the impact more than feel it. Your vision spins and you see the hillside fly past in a blur. The world goes quiet inside you. Things slope as you hit the ground, and you see Twilight far off, just a distorted purple shape crumpled on the grass.
>You reach out for her, and you feel your hand shaking.
>Your vision begins to sway and dim.
"...Twi..."
>She’s the last thing you see before you lose consciousness.

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End Pt. 4