You are a human warrior, and you are about to have a showdown.
 
The streets of Hollow Shades are quiet, the lone banner of the inn fluttering in the wind.  Hunter Killer eyes you smugly.  His cohorts – two large bat ponies – begin to approach in semicircular paths, giving you a wide berth.
 
“I see you’ve run from home.”  Hunter Killer says.  “So the bound wishes to be free, does she?  Is that why she sent this one to kill me?”  He juts his chin in your direction.
 
Moss Moon shoots you a look, as if to signify that she’ll do the talking.  You keep your mouth shut.
 
“You’re mistaken,” she says.  “I did no such thing.”
 
The stallion closes his eyes and mutters a tut-tut.  “There are lies, and then there are stupid lies.  He came skulking up that mountain with the intent to kill me, don’t deny it.  It’s as plain as your ugliness.”
 
Your companion ignores the slight.  She speaks her next question carefully.  “Did you come here to find me?”
 
Hunter Killer is regarding his hoof with apparent boredom.  “Don’t be so narcissistic.  You’d think I’d come to this backwater to chase the likes of you?”  His tiger eyes settle upon her.  “But now that we’ve found you, I think we’ll have a bit of sport.”
 
You watch carefully the two soldiers stepping toward you.  Their spears are still on their backs, and they have not yet assumed an aggressive posture.  Still, you are on your guard.  You can see Moss Moon’s gaze flick between them before returning to their captain.
 
“Where’s the rest of your squad?” she asks.
 
“Why would I tell you?”  The stallion snickers derisively, an unpleasant, high-pitched sound.  “You’re a bound, and an enemy of the Asperi to boot, who tried to have me assassinated.”
 
“It’s admirable that you’re so protective of your conscripts.  You wouldn’t want me to find them, I assure you.”
 
With a sneer, Hunter Killer tosses his mane.  He waves his hoof dismissively.  “If you must know, I left them to occupy that peasant stronghold.  Somepony has been spreading false rumors, and there will be reprisals.”  A saucy grin creases his handsome face.  “Perhaps they’ll make more bounds.  It would be so easy to make another you.”
 
Before you can react, a streak of grey and green darts forward.  There is a sharp yowl and a weighty thud.  Moss Moon has tackled Hunter Killer.
 
Immediately you move to assist, but the stallion’s two bodyguards rush to block your path.  They bare their fangs and hiss.
 
Instinctively your hand moves to your sword, but something deep inside you resists the impulse to pull it free.  It’s been a long time since you’ve taken up arms against a pony, and you’re not going to change that now.
 
You will, of course, happily beat the tar out of the little bastards.  You put up your dukes.
 
Screeches from the biting, punching tangle that is Moss Moon and Hunter Killer are drowned out by the screams of your two opponents, who both leap into the air and fly straight at you.
 
A sound strike from your fist sends the first careening to the ground, but the other crashes into your side, sending you reeling.  White hot pain radiates from your shoulder as the bat latches on, its fangs biting deep into your flesh.
 
You grab the creature by the forelimb and try to yank it off, but it refuses to let go.  A swift uppercut to the belly makes it cough and gasp, relinquishing its hold.  You catch a glimpse of your sturdy companion rolling around with her blue-haired foe, but before you can move toward them, something heavy slams into the back of your leg, knocking you to one knee.
 
The first pony has recovered, and has just struck you with the butt of its spear.  Its eyes spark red as it twirls the weapon, the silver point sparkling, as it once again brings the spear haft to bear against you.  
 
You leap to the side, barely evading the attack, and roll to regain your footing.  A great blue eye with a red pupil flutters just above you, as you stand now beneath the inn’s heavy banner.
 
You turn just as the two bat ponies charge you once again, this time with their spears raised, ready to strike you down.  Swiftly you reach up, and with all your strength, tear down the inn’s banner to throw it toward them.
 
Screeches of rage turn muffled as the cloth engulfs them.  Confounded by the banner, the two bat ponies crash toward the ground.  You quickly rush over and wrap them up tightly in a double bat burrito, trapping them.  They look furious as you ditch them to run toward the main scuffle.
 
Moss Moon sits atop Hunter Killer, driving her front hoof repeatedly into his face.  The stallion lies insensate on the ground, blood dripping from his nose, his cheek scuffed and bruised from the impact of many blows.  The mare’s mane is in wild disarray, but she looks otherwise no worse for wear.
 
It is on one hand satisfying to see the one responsible for shooting you in the back receive his comeuppance, but on the other hand, it is disturbing to see the pure rage on the face of the bat pony mare as she strikes him again and again.
 
“Enough,” you finally say, putting your hand on her shoulder.
 
It takes her a few more blows before she finally stops.  When she does, she looks up at you, her golden eyes dazed, as if not even seeing you.  Her pink scar seems even more livid than usual.  She shakes herself, and brightness and lucidity returns to her gaze.  For a brief instant she looks at you in shame, then looks away.
 
She steps off of Hunter Killer, who groans and reaches with a hoof to rub at his injured face.
 
“I don’t want to see you again,” she says.  “I’m a bound only in the lands of the Asperi.  Out here, I’m no one.  That means I can do whatever I want.”  She pauses.  “And if I see you again, I’ll kill you.”
 
Hunter Killer is already slinking away, crawling toward his burrito’d comrades.  Even in his pathetic state he manages to snort derisively at her comment, casting a look of disbelief over his shoulder.  Moss Moon stares daggers at him, and he quickly looks away.
 
You stand nearby, regarding her quietly.  Your breathing is still a little ragged from the encounter.  She approaches, staring in apparent embarrassment at the ground.  When she looks up at you, her expression is grim.
 
“We should go,” she says.
 
Many glowing eyes regard you silently from behind the windows of the inn and the surrounding homes.  “I agree.”
 
The two of you head out into the woods and the gathering dark.  Afternoon will soon pass into night, and you will have to make camp in the wilderness.
 
“Are you all right?” you ask, as the two of you walk to the west.
 
Moss Moon hangs her head.  “I… shouldn’t have let him get to me,” she says.  “Fighting them was a mistake.  Did you get hurt?”
 
You stop to show her the bite on your shoulder.  She clucks her tongue.  “Damn, Anonymous.  You’ve become a pincushion ever since you met me.”
 
Sitting you down next to a tree, she takes water from your canteen and cleans the wound.  She then digs a jar of white paste from one of her saddlebags and smears some of its contents onto your shoulder.  The skin goes numb, then feels strangely warm.  
 
She is silent as she goes about her work, obviously contemplative.  You consider telling her that it was satisfying to see her kick Hunter Killer’s ass, but decide against it.  The mare slaps on a bandage and smiles at you.  
 
“That should take care of it,” she says.  “Just keep an eye on it, make sure it stays clean.”
 
You rub at your shoulder.  “What did he mean about false rumors in the stronghold?”
 
Moss Moon’s teeth come together as her smile takes on a twinge of guilt.  “I got some of the foals to tell his soldiers that there was a magic spring at the summit of the mountain.”
 
“So Hunter Killer is looking for the Lunar Spring.”  Realization slowly dawns on you.  “But he doesn’t know that you’re going there, too.”
 
The mare shakes her head and shrugs.  “Nope.  I guess he just thinks I was running away, and that you’re helping me do it.”  Her gaze drifts to your leg, still bandaged from the arrow wound from earlier, and she frowns.  “I’m sorry, if I hadn’t sent him up there, you wouldn’t have been wounded –”
 
“It’s not your fault,” you say.  In retrospect, you even feel foolish.  “I should’ve known better than to approach a group of soldiers in the wilderness.”
 
“Besides, if it hadn’t been for that, I would never have had the chance to see this Lunar Spring you keep talking about.”
 
Moss Moon’s half smile returns.  It’s barely noticeable, but a change seems to come over her face.  Her golden eyes relax a little as she looks at you.  
 
“Thanks for coming with me, Anon.”
 
The two of you stand and start off westward again.  With any luck, you can find a cave or a good, sturdy tree by nightfall.
 
For a long time you travel, as the sun slowly sets, casting all into shadow.  The mare is silent as make your way through the wood.  Something is obviously troubling her, and you think you know what it is.
 
It takes a great deal of effort to get the words out.  
 
“Don’t worry too much about what he said,” you say.  “He was only trying to provoke you.  His squad… they wouldn’t do that to their own.”
 
She looks away, and is quiet for a very long time.  She pulls her cloak more tightly around herself.   “You’re right.”  Her smile is bitter.  “It was just… a cruel thing to say.”
 
You can think of no comforting words, and so resign yourself to silence.
 
Leaves and underbrush crack underfoot as you follow Moss Moon into the darkness, relying on her night vision.  After about an hour, she lets out a pleased (but quiet) skree.  She points out a small outcropping of rock under which you can take shelter.  You can barely see it in the faint moonlight.
 
The two of you share a small meal of dried fruit and meat before settling down for the night.  You have just closed your eyes when you hear her stir.
 
“It’s cold,” she says.  “Can I sleep beside you?”
 
You lift your arm to oblige her, and she slides in against you, her back pressed up against your chest.  Though she’s wearing her cloak, you become acutely aware of the stubs of her wings pressing against you.
 
She’s shivering slightly, but she soon relaxes as your body heat warms her.  Soon her breathing has steadied, and Moss Moon is fast asleep.
 
Your thoughts are troubled by many things, both old and new.  You realize, vaguely, that your companion has still not told you of the nature of the Spring.  You’ll have to ask her about it later, you tell yourself, as you drift off into slumber, and begin to dream.