After the train rescue, we were dogged by guards for quite a while. One pony hiding is easier, a pony and a griffon is more difficult. A pony and five griffons is something else entirely. The food requirements alone make us high-profile. We hunkered down in patches of woods, caves, abandoned houses, houses we mistook for abandoned... at one point we stayed in a vacation house owned by my brother, Velvet Rope, figuring it would be empty in the off-season. Embarrassingly, on the third day, he showed up with a younger stallion in tow.
Imagine, for a moment, two regular unicorns walking into the house one of them owns and being assaulted with the smell of roasting meat (I had a side of mutton in the oven). About two seconds later, a hardened murderer of a griffon is on top of them. My brother very nearly voided his bowels all over his foyer. Luckily, I made it into the room before it was too late to defuse the situation. I explained who these stallions were, and why we should neither kill nor eat them, and then I suggested Velvet Rope dismiss his stallionfriend and take a walk with me along the lake.
“I’m glad you’re well, V.R.,” I told him as we strolled along the foggy shores. I meant it, too; he looked healthy. His blond mane and tail had clearly been touched up with dye, and there were sunglass tan lines around his eyes, but he had overall aged gracefully.
“I’m...” he hesitated. It was awkward for him. I understood. After a moment, he tried again. “I’m... glad you’re not dead, Red. Even with everything you did.”
I chuckled. “We all had our secrets, brother. I’m glad you’re out of the closet, by the way.”
“I’m -” he started a coughing fit. “I’m not, actually.” Things grew awkward and silent between us for a few more minutes.. “How... how long exactly will you and your friends be staying?” My brother shared my talent to leave some things unsaid.
“A day or two longer,” I said, “Your discretion on the matter will be appreciated.”
He made a sound of resignation. “Clean up when you leave. With air fresheners, please.” He looked away, and then back to me. “You’re causing Mother no end of stress, you know.”
“Mother thrives on stress,” I said, “she’ll be fine. What about Father?”
“Father’s not very aware of current events anymore,” he said. “Mother’s looking into full-time care. She’s getting too old to handle all his needs.”
I heaved a sigh. “That’s a terrible shame.”
His eyes were on me. “Do you really feel that way, or is it just another bit of politeness?”
I shrugged. “The former... sort of. It’s complicated. Certainly I get no joy from hearing it.” I shook my head. “I don’t think there’s much I can do for them from my current position, certainly.”
“You should leave the country,” Rope said. I gave him a look, but he returned it. “Seriously. If the Guard know you to be out of their territory, they’ll stop bothering your known associates, and if they stop knocking on Mother’s door without delivering her news of your death, it’d be a weight off her horn.” He snorted. “Look, it’s a suggestion, but I’m sure there’s benefit to you getting the buck out of Dodge, you know?”
I considered for a moment. “You may have something there, brother.” I began to trot back towards the cabin. “Sorry about taking up your cabin. Let me get you some bits so you and, er...”
“So you and Crystal Key can find a nice hotel room.” I led him back to the cabin, and then I killed and ate him.
No, of course not really. I gave him a sack of hush money and I haven’t seen nor heard from him since, like a good brother. But it was a good idea. We were still drawing heat, and Hauer and Stormare needed time apart to move on from Olin’s death. Next time we had to leave town, we headed into Manehattan. I seized on a connection with the Fettucine family and put them in touch with the remaining Duskraptors. Stormare offered them his services as mercenary muscle, shock troops of a sort. Hauer and I headed instead to the border and fled west, then south, letting ourselves get spotted once more on the way out.
Hmm, that leaves me at a crossroads. Not in the story, but in the storytelling. I really should deliver some of the highlights from when I was younger - the murders I was actually convicted for, what happened to Sola Ray, perhaps some of the trial itself. Of course, some of my readers may want to hear about something else, like our time on the Southern continent, or any number of other things. Please, if you have a preference, speak up. Otherwise, I’m planning to provide a brief synopsis of my years living as a secret serial killer in and around Canterlot.
