Hunting Hope 15

Hope's pipes had finally cooled.

>She sighed in relief, holding the intricate bronze instrument warmly as if it were her most prized possession... which it actually was.

>Why had it become so hot, scalding to the touch for many long minutes after Hope's strange teleportation?

>And what's more, why did Hope feel as if somehow the pipes had caused it?

>Hope once again ran through her memories, focusing inwardly intently as she unconsciously put the pipes to her mouth and played a simple, meandering tune.

>She had been standing, eyes shut tight, song coursing through her veins and flowing out the pipes...

>Then, there had been a flash of energy, a shock, and the next thing she had noticed was the sun burning through her shut eyelids, Twilight's magic no longer blocking its rays.

>But what had been the cause? Certainly her music was not magical; at least not of that kind of power.

>Hope's breath fluttered over the pipes absent-mindedly as she continued to think, lost inside herself.

>There was something she hadn't quite been able to put her finger on, some small detail that would explain everything in a moment.

>Yet, as she tried to focus on what was certainly an incredibly important detail, all that sprung to mind was the silliest, most useless piece of information currently available to her.

She had left her hat behind.

>Hope lowered her pipes and huffed irritably.

>It was no use, she would remember later or she wouldn't, but now she had more important things on her plate.

>Very important, as the orange hue of the beginnings of sunset appeared in the sky simultaneously with an echoing growl from her stomach.

>Ach. No rest for the living.

>Hope gathered herself up, tucking the pipes delicately into her trousers so that they were safely wedged between the tight leather and her own fur.

God, she needed pockets.

>And a new piece of string, as the pipes shifted uncomfortably against her thigh.

>Well, no point worrying about it now. She needed food and a fire for the night.

>Hope grinned as she began to gather up firewood.

>Whatever had happened, it had certainly given her a much-needed break.

>Hours later, Hope sat at her new-lit little fire, staring as it burnt itself slowly into ash in the restless night; sparks flinging themselves into the sky only to peter out and return to the earth as dust.

>Was she just a spark, too, destined to burn its feeble light for such a short time?

>How could the ponies live with it, constantly reminded of their short lives by the immortal goddesses who ruled them?

>Perhaps this was how anon had felt, why he had-

>Hope shook herself mentally, chiding herself for straying into the minefield of emotion that was her past.

>Best to just go to sleep.

 

>"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Twilight exasperatedly.

>Her friends were arrayed with her around a circular wooden table, piled comically high with all kinds of mythological and historical books of every shape and size.

>They hardly reacted.

>Applejack and Rainbow Dash both snored face down in their own books, while Pinkie Pie herself slept on the floor, curled up in a ball and, for a rare moment, peaceful.

>Rarity and Fluttershy weren't even there.

>While she had been exceedingly patient during their travels so far, Rarity simply needed an evening off from "such uncouth goose chasing", and so she and a reluctant Fluttershy had practically bulldozed the entirety of Canterlot between the train stop and the closest spa.

>The hospital had gotten many complaints of small injuries and bruises coming from a "mysterious blue and white blur", but thankfully nopony had been hurt too badly, or had recognized Rarity in her dishevelled form.

>Twilight sighed to herself.

Just let them sleep. They need the rest.

>Twilight shook her head to push back her own overpowering exhaustion. She had barely slept the previous night, so busy keeping her apparently useless shield up, and now she was trying to study deep into the morning yet again.

>But that wasn't the cause of her frustration.

>There was not a single informative snippet of information on the human or his satyr child.

>She vaguely remembered a statue of anon in the Canterlot gardens from her fillyhood, commemorating something or another... but there was no record of it, nor of what event it could possibly have been in honour of.

>The only excerpts in the history books recent enough to even mention anon simply skimmed over his existence, vaguely mentioning a sudden growth of exploration and innovation in Equestria followed even more suddenly by a number of "cataclysmic and unavoidable natural events"

>Pictured in one of these books were tornadoes and crashed trains, but nowhere did they even mention any of a number of necessary details to aid in Twilight's research.

>One of the books was even, inexplicably, missing five entire chapters, leaving the enormous tome of 'Equestrian Inventions and Political Diplomacy of Modern Equestria' sagging as the contents only took half the volume the spine indicated it ought.

Something was up.

>Before, Twilight had thought that perhaps their poor information had been the cause of a critical piece of information being left out inadvertently, or perhaps as an additional challenge for a simple catch-and-return mission like this was supposed to be.

>But now, it felt as if instead she had found herself on the edge of something much larger, and much more unpleasant, than the case of a simple runaway.

>She only could hope that things wouldn't get worse, pray that this was all a simple misunderstanding mixed with the unpleasant mindset that is brought about by lack of sleep.

>For the moment, however, things looked bleak.

 

In the two distant locales, each player now in their home territory, two heroes sighed and rested their heads.

Their day had been long, and the road ahead stretched farther still and ominous.

The last thought on their minds was distant, but uniquely identical.

>A new day tomorrow, a new world, new challenges. In all this confusion, I only truly have one thing. Hope.