You are Moss Moon, a gray bat pony mare with a dark green mane, and you are about to do something very familiar and very dangerous.

It will soon be night.  Lines of red and purple light shine through the cracks of the mammoth stones overhead, twilight breathing like magma.  Only when full darkness comes will you make your move.

The sounds of merriment fill the air.  This evening marks the close of market day, and in celebration your brethren have gathered by the fountain, drinking and dancing beneath lanterns of many colors.  You crouch in the shadows of an alleyway, thankful for once that your presence is so easily ignored.

You grimace.  Every day is a brutal reminder that your only friends in this place are two foals too young to know any better.  They had been so pleased to give you the bits they’d grafted from the market.

“A human gave me these,” the young colt Nightstone had told you, passing you two coins in the secret orchard that was your rendezvous spot.  “I don’t know why.  Aren’t they bad?”

“You were very brave,” you’d told him, awkwardly patting his head.  “Humans are vicious creatures.  They’ll fight for whoever pays them the most.”

“He seemed nice.”

“Anyone can seem nice, Nightstone.”

His sister, Hex, had given you a bit of good news.  “We saw the Captain going up to the summit,” she’d told you, looking up at you with her huge, bright blue eyes.  She stifled a snicker.  “He seemed to think he knew where he was going.”

This was good.  The rumors they’d planted had paid off.  Now you can only hope that the detour will be enough to keep Hunter Killer and his merry band off your back.  You don't know how he learned of the Lunar Spring, but the more time he wastes looking in the wrong place, the better.

First things first, however.  You have to get out of the stronghold.  Stopping you are the two guards posted at the eastern exit.  The post is never left without a sentinel, even now, when all the bats are gathered for a night of drunken feasting.  If they catch you trying to leave, your punishment will be severe.  As a bound, you are forbidden to go outside of the settlement.

Nevertheless, you have a plan.  Your gaze gravitates to an old unicorn playing a fiddle; an outsider, and one that won’t just see you as a bound.  He’s your best shot at getting out of here.

You slip from the alleyway and into the milling crowd of bat ponies.  Faces pass you by, familiar expressions of disgust on those who notice you.  Eyes narrowed, fangs bared.  They are repulsed that you would even think to show up here.

Even this move is dangerous.  No one will care if some drunkard decides he doesn’t like the look of you.  No one will think twice if a reveler suggests that everyone push the bound into the fountain.  You avoid making eye contact with any of them.  You have eyes only for the old unicorn scratching out notes on his violin.

“May the moon shine always in your sky, young bat,” the unicorn says, when you throw a bit into his hat.  Beneath his yellowed horn and wispy white mane, his milky pale gaze searches your face.  He’s probably too blind to even notice that you don’t have wings.

“Could you do me a favor?” you ask.

The old fellow does an odd half-skip, half-jumping motion.  “Anything for the sweet maiden of these cold stones, anything at all, all that I can do with these, my old bones.”

“There is a colt by the eastern exit that I love with all my heart,” you say.  “Could you play him a song for me?”

Raising his bushy brows, the old unicorn’s mouth forms a perfect “o”, before it breaks into a maniacal grin.  “Yes indeed!  Tonight is a night for adventure!  Romance!  Getting in another’s pants!  I will do this thing for you, sweet maiden.”

You manage to grab him before he scampers off.  “Go there in twenty minutes and start playing.  He might try to make you stop, but that’s when I’ll come out of the shadows and confess my love to him.  It will be terribly beautiful.” 

The old unicorn clutches a hoof to his chest.  “My old heart!  You bats know how to set a stage.  I’ll be writing songs of this hour until the day that I finally die.”

You give him your thanks and your best smile, and slip ten bits into his hat when he isn’t looking, as restitution for what’s about to happen to him.

With this taken care of, you walk quickly from the market square, feeling as if every eye is upon you, and realizing that your heart is pounding in your chest.  You always feel this way when you are just about to sneak away from the stronghold.  It’s some inexpressible excitement, something terrifying and ecstatic.  It feels too good to be fear.

You make your way back to the secret orchard, passing beyond the irregular rows of domiciles to reach the stronghold’s inner perimeter of grass, trees, and raw stone.  Narrow creeks burble down a network of ravines, the clear water cascading down the slope and beyond the stone walls of the settlement.

Hex and Nightstone appear after you identify yourself with a series of screeches.  They bounce out of a fat-trunked tree and lie splayed out on the ground, their bellies filled with wild fruits.

From a saddlebag you pull out twenty-three bits, the majority of those that remain in your possession, and pile them on the ground before the foals.  They stare at the mound of coins in awe.

“Be careful with it, okay?” you say, doing your best to look reassuring.  “This has to last until I get back.  Eat the fruit out here, and don't buy anything unless you really need it.  And for Goddess’ sake keep it hidden.”

Nightstone bursts into tears, and Hex looks little better.  They rush to throw their tiny hooves around you, hugging you with all their might.  Unused to contact, you go rigid, then relax.  You feel your own eyes getting misty.

“Can’t we go with you?” Nightstone asks, between sobs.  

Your lashes feel strangely heavy.  It’s difficult to swallow.  “You know I can’t take you,” you say gently.  “You all have to look out for everypony while I’m gone, okay?  I know you can do it.”

You feel them nod against you, and you do your best to hug them in return.  You feel a pang knowing that out of all ponies, as improbable as it seems to you, it is you that these two foals look up to.

You don’t know how or why.  Your whole life has been one long trail of misery.  And yet these foals seem to believe that you are something worthwhile.  They seem to think that you are as strong and capable as any other bat pony.  Even if you know that isn’t true.  You aren’t going to be the one to tell them otherwise.

When finally you pull away and tell them to shoo, to hide their gold and be good while you’re gone, you exchange some final raspberries and depart before you too begin to cry.  You turn back toward the flickering lights of the settlement and make for the eastern exit.

This part of the stronghold is quiet, the sounds of laughter and revelry distant.  You press your back against the shaded wall of a house, hiding beneath an arch that crosses between two adjoining rooftops.  That fearful excitement returns, making you shiver all over.  

You peek down the empty street.  The guards stand on either side of the gate, looking bored.  Night has fully fallen.  The tips of their spears shine like silver in the moonlight.  Any minute now, the old unicorn should be making an appearance.

A shuffle and a groan behind you makes you jump.  You whirl around to see a large, shadowy figure staggering through the alleyway in your direction.  You freeze, your heart in your throat, calculating whether or not to flee, when the creature slumps to the ground.

Your nose twitches.  Your mouth instinctually waters.  You smell blood.

Cautiously approaching, you prod the creature with a hoof.  You dart away when it rolls over, and stare tentatively at the thing when it looks up at you with its sunken eyes.  It’s that human.

“Good evening,” he says.  He looks horribly pale.

“What happened to you?”

“I was going to the summit.  A stallion and his friends shot me.”

A twinge of guilt goes through you.  “Blue mane?” you ask.  “Weird eyes?”

“That’s the one.”  The human struggles to get up, and groans as if in pain.  He pushes his back up against the wall of the alleyway.

“Not so loud,” you hiss.  You steal a glance around the corner, and breathe easier when you see that the guards haven’t moved.  “That was Hunter Killer.  He’s a captain for one of the Asperi warlords.  Whichever one owns the mountain now, I can’t keep track.”

“I told the guards about it.”  The human winces as he shifts his cloak to the side, revealing a shallow wound in his chest.  “But they seemed to agree with his decision.”

Glancing him over, you see two more wounds, one in the shoulder and the other in his calf.  These have already been bound by what looks like scrap cloth.  “He outranks them,” you explain.  “They probably thought they could impress him by killing you.”

“That explains that.”  He squints at you.  “There’ll be more looking for me soon.  I don’t suppose you could help me get out of here?”

 You take a step back.  “Did – did you kill them?”

“Of course not.”

You study his expression, searching for untruths.  All you see is a haggard face and matted hair.

This is not the first human you’ve encountered.  You still remember when, as a foal, you watched in the distance as mercenaries cleaved through dozens of ponies, their huge weapons sending up plumes of red.  You remember the impassive way they walked, the way their expressions never seemed to change.

But perhaps not all were bad.  This one did give his bits to Nightstone.  You know that money is not a proxy for kindness, however.

“I…”

You suddenly hear the sound of singing nearby, and of dancing hooves.  The unicorn has arrived.

“Greetings, gentlecolts!” you hear him cry out.  “Care for a song?”  You can’t see him from the alleyway, but you can visualize him trotting toward the guards.

This is it, your one window to get out of here.  Your gaze flicks between the alleyway and the human.  He hasn’t moved.

“Fine.  Hold still.”  The guards might not see or hear your approach, but they would certainly smell it if you do nothing about the human’s open wound.  You approach him, taking out a bandage from one of your saddlebags.  You press this against his chest to staunch the bleeding.

More singing and dancing comes from the exit.  You hear the guards telling the old unicorn to stop, but he ignores them, Goddess bless him.

Some blood gets on your nose.  Surreptitiously you lick it up.  It’s the most delicious thing you’ve tasted in months.  “Let’s go,” you say.  “Keep low, and don’t make a sound.”

The human staggers to his feet and follows you to the alley’s mouth.  You peek around the corner to see the guards chasing the unicorn in an almost comic display, waving their spears as he manically places his fiddle.  He sings:

“Can we capture the beauty of a night like this / a perfect night for a maiden’s kiss?”

Keeping to the shadows, you hug the walls that adjoin the road, heading straight for the unguarded exit.  Despite his size and unsteadiness, the human manages not to make a sound.

You hear a loud THWACK and a grunt as one of the guards finally tackles the unicorn.  A distant clattering suggests that someone has thrown the fiddle down an alley.  “Get out of here, old timer!” a guard barks.

The exit stands before you, a rectangle of starlight and stone, a door to cool air and freedom.  You dash outside and dive into some bushes, hiding out of sight.

Your new companion is not so lucky.  Just as he enters the frame of the exit, standing outlined in the blue darkness, you hear another shout from a guard.

“Hey, you!  What are you doing?”

The human freezes.  Your heart thuds in your chest as you stare at him, wide-eyed.  Will he give you away?

Thoughtfully, turning like a fat bovine creature, the human makes an about face in the doorway.  “Is this not the exit?” he asks, his speech slurred slightly from blood loss.

“The eastern path is extremely dangerous.  There are rockfalls and deadly creatures.  No one should go that way.”

The human shrugs.  “Well I think I’ll be jusht fine.  Don’t mind me.”

There is silence.  You can’t see them, but you can imagine that guards are exchanging a bewildered look.

One of them finally speaks up.  “Very well.  I suppose we can’t –”

He is interrupted by more shouting from inside the stronghold, and the sound of running hooves.  The human mutters a curse, and immediately turns and runs.

As he passes you, for an instant he makes eye contact, and makes a motion with his head, as if to say: “Go.”

And then he is gone, running down the path into the deep forest of the eastern slope.  A moment later, a squad of guards runs out of the exit, chasing after him.  Obscured by shrubbery, you remain completely unnoticed.

 You peer out from between the leaves, watching them go.  Overhead the near-full moon silently sheds its light.  You tremble, filled at once with both excitement and fear.  You’ve made it outside, but what will you do now…?