>You are Anon.
>And you are staring down at possibly the strangest thing, or things, you have ever seen.
>Three very small, very talkative and apparently very trusting... horses, or ponies, as you had been recently and indignantly corrected were walking along side you as you escorted them to the edge of the forest.
>They certainly seemed to have a lot to say, especially about something called a cutie mark.
>Most of this was utterly lost on you, but to try and get a word in edgewise was a hopeless venture.
>Then came the questions.
>“Say, what kinda creature are you anyway?” Apple Bloom asked suddenly.
“I’m a human.”
>“I’ve never heard of those…” said Sweetie Belle
>“Where are humans from?” Scootaloo inquired.
“They’re everywhere. I’m surprised you’ve never seen one.”
>“They’re obviously not everywhere if we ain’t seen any.”
“Well I don’t know what to tell you then.  As far as I know, humans live all over the world, in small villages. They-”
>“What village are you from?” Sweetie Belle inquired, cutting you off.
“I’m from a little village called Omelas. It’s built near the ruins of an old world mega-city, Great Seattle.
>“What’s Omelas like?”
“Home is home, I guess. There’s plenty of forest nearby for hunting and adventuring, and the Great Ocean not too far away, where travelers can leave for the Beyond. Also, the nearby city ruins are pretty fun to explore, you never know what you’ll find there.”
>Memories of walking through the grassy paths between fallen citadels consumed your mind, before another question brought you back to reality.
>“Can you tell us a story?”
>Glancing down, you noticed them grinning eagerly from ear-to-ear.
“Hmm.”
>You racked your brains for a second.
“Alright. I’ll tell you the story of my first hunt.”
 
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>“Rise! Sleep no more! Tis a noble morn!
The dew hangs thick on the fringed thorn,
And the frost shrinks back like beaten hound,
Under the steaming, steaming ground!
Behold, where the billowy clouds flow by,
And leave us alone in the clear gray sky!
Now, through the copse, where the beast is found,
And over the stream, at a mighty bound,
And over the high lands, and over the low,
O’er furrows, o’er meadows, the Hunters go!”
>The song of the Hunters rang through the village. Though few in number, the Hunters were a powerful and boisterous lot.
>And you were so excited! Today was your day!
>Today you were finally old enough, strong enough to complete your first lone hunt!
>Everyone had congregated in the village square, where you stood naked, to be awarded your rite and sent off.
>The three elders stood ahead of you in the square, each representing their brood. The Master Hunter, the Patriarch Shepherd and the Pack Alpha each bore a gift for your travels.
>The Patriarch held the pair of short, skin-tight leggings you were given as a mark of resilience, and they were the only clothes allowed on the trip, including footwear. He stepped forward, offered them and wished you luck, both of which you gratefully accepted.
>After you pulled your “clothes” on the Alpha approached, and held in his hands the charge, which, when completed, would allow you to ascend to full Hunter status.
>“Anonymous. You are to collect the head of one Wild Boar before returning to the village of Omelas. May Nature be on your side.”
>And lastly, the Master had his blessing, and the rules of the Hunt.
>“Anonymous. Today marks the day you become a prime Hunter, should you succeed. Your only weapons shall be the strength of your body and the sharpness of your mind.”
>He then produced a bowl and a small knife, with which he stroked his hand. Blood dripped into the bowl, and he offered it to you.
>“Drink of my soul, Anonymous. May my wisdom and strength become yours.”
>You drank.
>“Begone.”
>The simple command was uttered in unison by the elders.
>You didn’t need telling twice.
>Some hours later, you stood amongst the ruins of the once great city.
>You had been tracking a single, particularly large boar for nearly 45 minutes as both its footprints and its reek had left a very distinct trail.
>And only now had you caught a glimpse of it.
>Initially, you had wondered why they would want you to track such an easily followed beast.
>Now you realized, the test wasn’t in the tracking, as any Pack could do this.
>The test was in killing it unarmed.
>Hunters rarely used weapons in the hunt and it was considered shameful to bring along something specifically designed to make tasks easier, when Nature had already granted the Hunters abilities beyond most humans.
>Breathe in, breathe out.
>You quickly, yet silently approached the creature.
>When you were about ten yards away, it stiffened, before wheeling to face you.
>It had to be at least 600 pounds, and even though it was only four feet tall, one wrong move and you could be its lunch, instead of the desired vice versa.
>It sized you up in a second that seemed an eternity.
>Then with an almighty squeal, it charged.
>With your current stance, you couldn’t hope to match it for force, so with evasion your only plan, you roll to your left at the last second, landing yourself against a wall.
>It didn’t overcharge as far as you expected, and you were unable to prepare before it was upon you again, attempting to bite your face.
>Bracing both arms under the boar’s throat and pressing up and out against the onslaught gave you some leverage, if only a little.
>After futilely pushing straight against your arms, it attempted to dive to your left and attack from there.
>You saw your opening.
>Fading right, you slid your left arm down and around its throat, and threw yourself over the beast to finally trap it in a poorly executed headlock.
>Despite being poorly set up, it allowed you to finish the game.
>You constricted your arms
>The boar thrashed and bucked, but eventually its windpipe collapsed.
>Breathe in, breathe out
>You cast about for something to remove the head, and your eyes lit upon a metal shard in a nearby ruin.
>That evening, you strode into the village bearing your prize, only to be met with applause and adoration.
>Today was a good day.
 
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“The end.”
>“That was a great story!” squeaked Sweetie Belle.
>“Ah wonder if we could get our cutie marks huntin’ critters also!” spoke Apple Bloom.
>“What would the cutie mark of a hunter look like?” pondered Scootaloo.
>Looking away from them, you noticed you’d reached the edge of the forest.
>This fact is not lost on the fillies. They looked almost sad, until Sweetie piped up again.
>“Can you take us all the way home?”
>You mulled it over in your head.
>On the upside, you had wanted to take a look through the town.
>On the downside, the girls made quite a bit of noise, and even if they weren’t talking, their hooves were noisier than you’d wish.
“Only if you keep quiet, and I carry you.”
>Each of them fixed you with an incredulous look, which you met with a flat stare.
>They agreed.
>Upon scooping them into a cradling hold, you moved into the town.
>After a few feet you stopped.
“Where exactly am I taking you?”
>“Carousel Boutique!” whispered Sweetie. “Scootaloo and I are sleeping at my sister’s tonight!”
“And where is Carasell Booteek?”
>“Just follow that road.” divulged Scootaloo.
>Clinging to the shadows at the side of the street, you slunk along, holding tight the surprisingly light fillies.
>The town itself was a small, quaint quiet little hamlet, not unlike Omelas.
>Few buildings stuck out from the rest, but those that did included a large hollowed tree, a particularly tall circular building and lastly, a sickeningly decorated two story home with a small sign in front of it.
>Here, you were stopped by Scootaloo.
>“There it is! You almost walked past it!” she whispered sharply.
“Sorry if I don’t know which specific building is Carasell Booteek.”
>“There’s a sign right there.”
“I know. I saw it,” you replied truthfully.
>“Well the sign says ‘Carousel Boutique’…”
>You paused and looked at the sign, before meeting eyes with Scootaloo.
“You can read?”
>“Of course I can read!”
“Neat!”
>“Everyone can read. How is that neat?”
>That was news to you. As far as you knew, most people couldn’t read.
>In fact, the town elders were the only people you knew who could, except for your dad, but he could barely do so.
“I can’t read.”
>“You can’t read!?!”
>All three ponies practically shouted at you.
“No, I can’t! Now please keep it down!” You whispered, agitated.
>They snapped shut, stricken by how much noise they had made.
“Now where do I get you in?”
>With some quick directions on behalf of Sweetie Belle, you had them clambering back through the window into their bedroom. Luckily, it seemed no one had heard the shout.
>Once the girls were safely inside you turned back towards town.
> “Ah wish Granny’d let me go to the sleepover,” Apple Bloom pouted.
“Where do you live?”
>“Sweet Apple Acres. It’s a pretty big apple orchard outside of town.”
“You live there? With the cows and the orange pony?”
>“That ‘orange pony’ happens to be my sister. Her name is Applejack, and she saw you kidnap one of the cows.”
>You acknowledged her statement silently and continued to scan the town for anything that would seem unusual or unique, but you were disappointed.
>One thing you did notice was the lack of a night guard. All of the towns you had visited had some sort of late night patrol, but here, the town itself was asleep.
>As you moved out of town towards the orchard she remained quiet.
>This was short lived, however.
>“If you eat cows, why didn’t you eat us?”
>Her question came as an utter surprise to you. You understood her initial forward question concerning your intentions earlier, because it made sense for a kid to ask a mysterious creature or ‘monster’ about its plans.
>But if she knew all along, and still trusted you, then she was either very naïve or very willing to give everyone a chance.
>She was probably both.
>After a fair amount of thinking, you gave your answer.
“I need meat to survive, but it’s unfair to take it from anyone who talks.”
>“Why the cows then?”
>Your heart sank at the question, and you hope your answer held up.
“Because cows don’t talk.”
>“Yes they do.”
>You didn’t question her. If ponies could talk, why not cows?
>You felt empty inside. Five deaths for your selfish needs.
>“But why does talkin’ matter so much?”
“Never mind why. It’s just a personal rule. I won’t take any more cows, and I’ll never eat a pony. I promise.”
>“Good enough for me!”
>She was so quick to trust you. Strange.
>Now you took to the woods just beside the path, as you always felt overly exposed in the open.
>Eventually, the orchard rose into view.
>As you spotted the farmhouse, you asked where to take her
> “The window ‘round the back, on the second floor.”
>You snuck around the house and, shifting Apple Bloom to one arm and clinging all the tighter, you rapidly scaled the wall up to her room.
>You set her on her bed, and as you turned to leave, she spoke.
>“Can you tuck me in, and tell me a bed time story?”
 
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>You are Applejack.
>And you’re still having a tough time sleeping.
>To make matters… interesting, you had just gotten up to get a glass of water when you heard muffled voices from Apple Bloom’s room.
>It was probably just Big Mac, but your curiosity was piqued.
>“I don’t know many bedtime stories, but when I was little my grandpa used to read to me out of books from before the War. I remember one very short poem from one of those books that always got me thinking, but helped me to sleep.”
>The voice was unmistakably male, and definitely not Big Mac.
>“That’s okay” your sister replied.
>“It goes: ‘If only, if only,’ the woodpecker sighs,
‘The bark on the tree was as soft as the skies.’
While the wolf waits below, hungry and lonely,
Crying to the moon, ‘If only, If only.’”
>“Thanks for everythin’, Anon, and good night.”
>“Good night to you Apple Bloom.”
>Now it’s time to act.
>You step into your sister’s room, only to find it empty of anyone other than her.
>“Whatcha doin’ sis?
“Hush Apple Bloom.”
>You rush over to the window, only to see a shadow vanish into the night.