The weasel found itself meandering through a tunnel, cut through the earth beneath what the ponies called a road. It didn’t necessarily understand why the ponies created this small tunnel, but it was always mucky and wet – a perfect place to hunt for frogs. It always returned to this area around dusk, when the sun set, and the moon would rise. Frogs would always be in the area.

As the weasel slinked through the tunnel, its paw slipped into some of the water gathered at the bottom. In mild annoyance, it flicked its paw. This action caused water drops to plunge into the small puddle that was just ahead of the small mammal, alerting some mice to the presence of the weasel. However, before the weasel could pounce, it found itself being lifted into the air by a glowing purple magic – a unicorn had spotted it.

The weasel struggled warily, but to no avail. It didn’t particularly care for the ponies, but it wasn’t enjoying being held up in the air. With a few chatter noises, the weasel struggled against the unicorn’s magic. The unicorn simply smiled and chuckled slightly before trotting away, bringing the weasel with it. Unbeknownst to the smaller mammal, it would now be a pet to the pony.

In the dark light of the dusk hours, the weasel barely made out the colors of the unicorn. All it could make out was that the pony had a lighter coat, possibly cream or white, with darker hair. The mane and tail were both a gold in color, with darker yellow highlights and ends. However, the weasel never got a good look at the eyes, so it wasn’t sure what color they were. Nor did it really care. It would call this pony “Gold Mane.”

After a few hours, the weasel found itself being set gently down in a rather large cage, that seemingly had been already prepared for it. It tested the ground, deciding it felt alright and sturdy, albeit a bit sandy and rough. But there was fresh food in the corner of the cage, so perhaps this wasn’t so bad… But it found itself being held in the office of a rather high-ranking pony in Canterlot, so everything looked quite fancy. It felt out of place.

Nevertheless, it learned to behave rather quickly. If it stayed quiet and did cute things like roll over or sit upright in front of the passing ponies, it would get treats. The treats always tasted good, and it preferred them over the meats it would get. The treats were usually eggs or crayfish, and the weasel always made sure to put its paws together when it was receiving them. For some reason, the ponies loved to see this odd gesture. They called it “begging.” The weasel considered that it was technically begging for the treats.

As the months went on, the weasel would watch the events occur within the office. Occasionally, a pony would come in urgently, and the air of the room would turn more serious as Gold Mane would take care of the issue. Of course, the weasel never really understood what was going on, but it would catch words such as “threats” or “war.” It never gave it a good feeling when it heard those words. There would also be times when a different pony would enter the office with a case and leave with papers.

But the weasel didn’t care. It just kept relaxing in its cage. Sometimes it would get bored and escape its cage, exploring the room and digging at the furniture. Gold Mane usually scold the weasel if it scratched its desk or walls, she quickly gave up on that endeavor. The weasel eventually created a game with this, learning to destroy furniture it didn’t particularly like. It would usually be removed and replaced with something else that looked equally as bad, but at least it wasn’t olive green anymore…

On one day later in the year, when the leaves outside of the window were all fiery orange and red, the weasel was awakened by a new pony – a pegasus – bursting into the office yelling at Gold Mane. The weasel quickly grew uncomfortable, feeling its brown fur bristling with unease. The weasel slowly made its way into its burrow within the cage, hiding out of sight as the yelling continued. Very vaguely, the weasel would catch some words, but they were muffled quite a bit. Something about action being needed to be taken. A few citizens had been killed elsewhere.

Gold Mane seemingly dismissed the pegasus, telling them to not worry about the situation and to just return to their post. The weasel poked its head out of the burrow, narrowing its eyes at the pegasus in suspicion. It didn’t like this pony, and the fact that it was yelling at Gold Mane had irritated the weasel. With an easy movement, the weasel climbed out of its cage and slinked around the office, unnoticed.

The argument between the pegasus and Gold Mane continued. It just irritated the weasel further, until the pegasus suddenly left the room with a slam of the door. The sound of the door closing caused a crack of sound to echo around the usually quiet office, eliciting a reaction from Gold Mane. The unicorn huffed in annoyance, returning to her paperwork with irritation.

Although the weasel was a bit agitated as well, it meandered over to the unicorn. In a rather cat-like way, the weasel found itself leaning against the leg of Gold Mane, causing the unicorn to jump in surprise. The weasel then felt weightless once more, as Gold Mane picked it up with her magic. It noted the purple color of Gold Mane’s eyes, which were filled with an apologetic expression. The weasel lowered its ears, being set down gently on the desk. It then watched as Gold Mane lifted her hoof and pet the weasel.

At first, the sensation was a bit uncomfortable, but it grew used to the gesture after a while. Gold Mane seemed to be relaxing as she pet the weasel, she even smiled a little bit and sighed slightly. But the small moment didn’t last long, as the weasel found itself being picked up once more and placed gently within its cage once again. It decided it would stay within the cage for now.

Months went on. The weasel watched idly as the office was rearranged countless times, smirking to itself as it watched its sabotage of the furniture in full effect. It was always warm in the office, even as the snowstorms raged outside, and the sounds of distant rumbling and cracking grew closer ever so slowly. The weasel didn’t think much of it, though. It was just a weasel. But Gold Mane seemed to grow more stressed and anxious as the days went on. Perhaps the winter was getting to her?

Gold Mane seemed to be slacking on most of the paperwork that she was meant to do. But the weasel didn’t necessarily care. It was just a pet. But the other ponies did, as they would more frequently come into the office with their urgent tones and annoyed behaviors. The weasel would attempt to do its tricks in front of these ponies, hoping for some eggs or crayfish. But the happier reactions and expressions from the ponies became few and far between as the distant rumbling grew closer.

Until a certain day in mid-spring, when the flowers would be blooming even as the rain drearily fell outside the window. The weasel shifted around in its cage, playing with some of the toys that Gold Mane had given it. But the weasel was interrupted as another new pony entered the room, this time another unicorn. The unicorn didn’t seem from around the area, having dirty hooves and weary looking eyes. But it seemed serious and urgent. And Gold Mane didn’t seem all that bothered by their presence.

The new unicorn simply lifted a case and gave it to Gold Mane, taking a few documents without protest from the other unicorn. It confused the weasel, as it didn’t quite understand what had just happened, but once again, it didn’t really care all that much either. It had happened countless times before.

The weasel peered around the edge of its cave, looking at the case as Gold Mane opened it up. It was full of something that was green, and the weasel had considered that it was important. It had seen these delivered before, but never directly to Gold Mane like this one was. Perhaps this was new.

Gold Mane seemed a bit bothered by the case, though. Even as she used her magic to look at the flakey green things that fell from the case. The weasel watched curiously as Gold Mane picked up a feather and scribbled it across a paper. She did this quite often, burning the thing and watching the dust fly off out the window each time. But the weasel just decided it was something ponies did, just like how otters used rocks to break things open. Or how frogs were fun to play with. It suddenly found itself missing the pond.

Eventually, the weasel watched as a pony entered the office with a bag full of items late at night. The weasel quickly tried to beg, holding its paws together and standing upright on its hind legs, but the pony didn’t pay the small mammal any mind. The weasel rolled its eyes and slinked around its cage in annoyance. It wanted eggs.

The pony quickly moved around the room, checking the shelves and under the desk. It found what it was looking for rather quickly, spotting the new case that had been left earlier in the day. The weasel watched as the pony took the case and left, glaring at the weasel with a cruel smile as they left the room.

The next day, Gold Mane was nowhere to be seen. Many different ponies would enter and leave the room, looking for the pony. The weasel would attempt to get their attention, not having been fed that day due to Gold Mane’s absence. But none of the ponies would consider the weasel for longer than a few moments. In mild annoyance, the weasel decided to crawl out of the cage, to search for its own food – and it was in luck. A small mouse was scampering around the room, which the weasel quickly caught.

As the weasel was eating, it heard another pony enter the room with an urgent and professional glance around the room. The weasel peered up at the pony and watched it nod behind it at a few other ponies. They were dressed in all black and were repeating a lot of words, which the weasel caught. “Deception,” “treason,” “sabotage.” The weasel did not understand these words, but its fur bristled in reaction to them.

The group of ponies quickly looked around the room, opening every drawer and peering into every nook and cranny they could. The weasel watched with alarm as a unicorn picked it up, giving it once over and then half-hazardly tossing it outside. The weasel hit the ground with a thud, but it didn’t find itself hurt in any way. In mild irritation and annoyance, the weasel glared at the window and then sniffed, scenting the air for Gold Mane. Perhaps it should try to find her.

The weasel quickly found her scent, stalking through the tall grass and hiding in holes as other ponies ran past quickly. The distant rumbling from before had grown much closer, the cracking much louder. The weasel didn’t understand what was going on, scenting the air and finding blood wafting through the wind. Blood, metallic smells, dusty smells. It felt a pit in its stomach as the continued to follow the trail of Gold Mane.

But the weasel did not find Gold Mane. The trail was a dead end, leading to nowhere. The weasel felt the ground rumble as a loud noise echoed through the trees and watched as a fireball wafted up into the sky. The weasel quickly burrowed into the ground, hiding as the sound screamed through the forest. The weasel stayed in this hole for quite some time, until night fell on the land. The moon looked quite large in the sky.

The weasel exited the small hole, peering around the area warily. With a cautious step outside, it scented the air. Something about it smelled wrong. The weasel’s fur bristled in alarm as it scampered away from the smell, trying to run in the opposite direction of it. But as the weasel ran, it picked up the scent of Gold Mane once more, and felt a pang within itself. It decided to follow her scent, quickly running over the ground as it searched.

Finally, after a few hours of relentlessly searching, the weasel found Gold Mane. It quickly climbed up her mane, tangling it much to the dismay of the unicorn. The weasel felt itself be pulled out of her mane with the purple magic from before, being held out in front of the unicorn with a narrowed squint. The weasel then put its paws together and begged, and Gold Mane seemed to recognize it. She smiled to the weasel, before gently putting it back down on the ground.

But it didn’t last all that long. As the rumbling from earlier started to build up again in the morning hours, the rather bright looking pony stood out like a sore thumb. The weasel watched as she grew anxious, glancing around and quickly picking the weasel up once more. She galloped through the forest, not caring much about the mud that stained her hooves.

Gold Mane eventually slowed, putting the weasel down near a pond and then sat down next to it, giving it a few gentle pets. The weasel watched as Gold Mane smiled down at it, before getting up suddenly and galloping away. The weasel tried to follow, jumping over rocks and stones as the unicorn gained speed and ran further and further away. Eventually the weasel lost sight of Gold Mane and glanced around.

Silently, it wished for what those ponies called a “road.” It would be able to easier follow Gold Mane on a road. But as it tried to follow her scent through the forest, it never found her again. Just a series of dead ends and tracks that led nowhere.

As the months went on after the weasel returned to the wild, the forest was combed endlessly by random ponies searching for Gold Mane as well. The weasel would watch these ponies curiously, hoping they would find Gold Mane so it could return to her. But they never did.