The trek down through the hidden mountain pass that lead to the confines of their Basin home had been rather uneventful. Snow still lingered there, and the wind bit at his skin with frigid cold, but Shuler reveled in the sensation of leaving the known world behind, and diving off into another adventure. He was a wanderer by heart, naturally driven to roam the land and find what things it held in wait, and this adventure would be just another of many to add to his list of travels. Crowley proved to be good company, and Shuler appreciated the stallion’s rather humorous personality. They were similar in many ways, and it was comforting to know that there were other unicorns that still had a brain between their ears that actually functioned. Between both of their cunning and wit, the dun stallion imagined that success was inevitable. There was something invigorating about playing the game of manipulation, acting the part, and crawling your way into the trust of others, invading their minds and tainting their hearts. Shuler existence had revolved around deception for so long; it was all he knew, and all he wanted. The only difference was that now the purpose no longer served just himself, but Psyche and the Plague, and his brothers and sisters as well.

It was an odd feeling, to have the responsibility of others resting on your shoulders. But the golden phantom looked to the new opportunity as a challenge, one he could throw himself into. The past few months before the reassembly of the Plague in Helovia’s northern lands had found the stallion lost and wandering, without purpose or intent, and the feeling had been festering and eating at him for some time. It had never been something that bothered him before, for most of his life had been spent living alone, serving only himself and his own wants and needs. But time alone also gave an individual opportunity to think, and ponder, and linger on things once ignored and pushed to the side. The plague gave him something to funnel his energy into, an outlet for his abilities, and he found himself enjoying the satisfaction it gave him more and more each day.

This mission would be his first official act of duty. He and Crowley had discussed many of their options, but the ultimate goal was to gain the Foothill’s trust. They had traveled down from the mountains, into the woodlands north of the Foothill’s outer edges, where they had made camp and rested, plotting and planning what moves and actions would be required in order for them to be most successful. Now the duo traverses the most outer edges of the hilly lands, preparing to be found, and begin the weaving of tangled webs and practiced lies. And if anyone was paying close enough attention, they would clearly see the limp with which the golden stallion shuffled through the woods, and the ghastly gash that tore down the length of his shoulder, leaving stains of crimson read against the gold of his coat. If anyone asked, he and his friend had been ambushed by a group of violent unicorns as they traveled south. Little would the unsuspecting know that it was all a ploy, a charade created to accomplish their purpose; to gain their trust. When one played the victim, no one would suspect they were capable of anything else.

The golden stallion eyed the mark, created by Crowley’s impressive horns, and tried not to grimace. It was far worse than it looked, and he might have been limping with more gusto than necessary, but it was all part of the act. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark stallion with a grin of satisfaction, slowing his ambling pace until he came to a stop at the edge of the trees, looking out at the rolling expanse of hills before them. Pain was a high price to pay, but Shuler was all about winning. He would do whatever it would take.