Chapter 3 A Distant Country

Chapter 3 A Distant Country

Gladiox and Syronyx ran. They ran as fast as their hooves enabled it. In their mouths they carried the numbed body of the changeling which had been bagged by their pack leader. They had to cover as many meters as fast as possible, for behind them all the rest of their pack members was transforming right now into enormous behemoths. They grew high and gained enormous muscle mass. Shortly after the transformation to the twin horned, with claws and fangs armed monster was complete and the developed result yelled into the sky to demonstrate its strength.

Meanwhile a hostile pack came towards them at high speed. They already had transformed into their behemoth forms and rushed forward with bowed heads and the horns ahead.

The goal of Gladiox and Syronyx was simple. They had to get the slain prey away from the battlefield so the enemy couldn’t get its hands on it. Even if the strange insect was not very bulky, the ponytaurs would still prefer prey like this over the essence of their own kind.

While behind them the first behemoths collided with primeval violence, Syronyx and Gladiox ran down a slope, they couldn’t help anyway since they weren’t even able to transform.

They just got out of eyeshot from both packs when the stunned changeling suddenly came back alive. He shook off his numbness and started to bridle to get out of the jaws of his tormentors. With one leap he stabbed his tusks into Gladiox´ snout and kicked with his hind legs amain against Syronyx´ mandible.

Both ponytaurs were too surprised by the rude awakening of their captive and so his attacks caught them off guard. Syronyx was the first one who desisted from him and with one further kick against the kisser he got crashed into the ground. Gladiox on the contrary stopped and shouted with pain, this damn bug had pinched one of his most sensitive points. Blindly he lashed out at the changeling with his front hooves until he let go of his snout and remained aloof.

Gladiox gathered himself again and tasted blood. His own blood ran down his snout into his mouth. Syronyx got back on his hooves and tasted blood as well from the blow he had gotten. Now it got personal. The ponytaurs grumbled angry and their eyes started to glow. Immediately after they lunged at their meanwhile enervated enemy with wide opened jaws. They lapsed into a blood flush. They wanted retribution and became blind for everything what happened around them and even within them. They didn’t realize that they were not only about to wreak a carnage but also to break the shaky packs law again.

They ripped their prey apart. Syronyx bit in the soft belly of the changeling while he lashed out at the ponytaur with all four hooves. Afterwards Syronyx tore big pieces of meat out of his victim and swallowed them avariciously. Gladiox on the contrary clasped his jaws around the head of the changeling and compressed further and further until he got as well some soft gauze between the teeth after some crackling and crunching noises. Also he swallowed it and right in this moment an event happened which pulled him out of his blood flush.

Swirling pictures appeared inside his head. Pictures of an attack, of a defeat, but most important of all: Pictures of a country so beautiful and glorious, it bedazzled him and cooled down his rushing mind in seconds. A country beyond Mt. Ziz.

The pictures vanished as fast as they had appeared and shortly after Gladiox realized, he had just swallowed a piece of brain.

Not even an hour after the battle between the packs was over, it hardly could have come out worse for Gladiox and Syronyx. The two ponytaurs marched again through the rocky ranges of Ödland, but this time not because of scouting. This time they didn’t talk to each other, not because there wasn’t anything to talk about, but because of frustration.

The pack fight had ended because of escape of the rival pack. The massive behemoth warriors had caused each other devastating wounds and consistently some body parts had been ripped off, gorged and the wounds healed again. But then they had to find out, that their own cubs had misappropriated the prey while they were beating the enemy.

Syronyx and Gladiox had exploited the looted changeling in their blood flush and gorged the lion’s share of the cadaver. Understandably the older ponytaurs of the pack were very angry. Even if they didn’t do it on purpose the two brats did cut the line. It was rare that chaotic behemoths had anything like hard rules but it was common that when the older members wanted something, the younger ones had to follow. And with their behavior Syronyx and Gladiox had upset 18 older members.

In the end they were expelled from the pack and now were on their own. Well, it still could have gone worse. The pack could have seen the castaways as potential prey as well and in that case Gladiox and Syronyx would have been done for. But strangely the pack leader Gyrazzan did take a pity on them and gave the boys a deadline half a day to buzz off.

There was nothing else left to do for Gladiox and Syronyx but use this time to get as far away as possible from their former pack. Because when the deadline was over their once family member would see them as an easy meal.

“I hope you’re satisfied,” Syronyx hissed dryly. “If you let me alert the pack as it was our function none of this crap would have happened.”

“At least I was the first one who desisted from the prey,” Gladiox defended himself. His tone was still way less aggressive. “You on the other hoof did gut the entire abdominal region until you were right in your mind again.”

Although Syronyx´ angry temper and meanwhile even his instinct instructed him to kill his only comrade and to gorge what was left to gorge, he hold his horses. For today these tempers and instincts did already cause enough bad things to the two ponytaurs.

“Are you even aware of in what deep doo-doo we are?” asked Syronyx still petulant. “The two of us are most likely the last things left a behemoth would see as some prey. There is nothing left for us to gorge in Ödland, even these swift changelings are obviously more wily than us. And now we have lost our only protection...”

Then Syronyx became quiet, he didn’t know what else there was to say. Meanwhile Gladiox looked wishfully at the big Mt. Ziz. Like during the last millennia it prevented the sun from Ödland today.

“There is one possibility left for us.”

After a while the ponytaurs walked into a new direction. Now they marched directly toward Mt. Ziz. Gladiox had tried to describe what had happened when he had reached the brain mass of the changeling. The memories of the world beyond Mt. Ziz, food to abound and not a single rival pack. This was their chance for freedom.

When Syronyx listened to this, he had been initially sure his cully had lost his mind.

“Did this changeling possibly snap off a piece of YOUR brain as well earlier?” asked Syronyx aghast. “Ponytaurs mustn’t go to Equestria. It’s strictly forbidden.”

Gladiox turned his head to Syronyx while marching and answered, “Forbidden? That’s your argument? Primal chaos ignores rules.”

“Stop messing around!” replied Syronyx. “Did you forget, what’s lurking alongside the border rivers on ponies like us? Leviathans! Big, ugly, scaly leviathans! These beasts know mercy way less than the behemoth packs. They’re gonna catch us and make toothpicks of our bones for themselves!”

But Gladiox shook his head and began to smirk.

“When I touched the memories of the changeling, I saw its flight over Mt. Ziz. That’s how it came to Ödland,” he explained. “Two rivers spring up from both sides of the mountain and form the border to Equestria. They are full of leviathans for sure. But the peak, the highest point of the mountain is as dry as a bone. That is where no water can reach. Do you understand, Sy? It’s a gap. A gap in their defense, a gap we can slip through if we don’t cause any alarm.”

Syronyx let Gladiox speak but at the end his skeptic face revealed what he thought of that.

“You want to know that from some memory frazzles?” he asked. “Even if it’s true, the rivers are of a magical nature. Even on the dry peak single leviathans will remain overseeing the area. Apart from that if there is such a gapping gape in their defense line, why hasn’t any behemoth succeeded so far in discovering that and crossing the border? Well?”

“Bird’s eye view,” Gladiox answered. “Just think about it, I saw all this from the sky. What do you think? How many ponytaurs had such an opportunity since they’re all not winged?”

“Tyranny has wings,” replied Syronyx.

“Tyranny has also the biggest sloth in all of Ödland,” Gladiox had to concede.

Syronyx was still doubtful. Gladiox portrayed him the pure utopia there and this plan was very hazardous in his opinion.

“I don’t know…,” he said unassertively and sighed. “When we cross the border to Equestria, if it is even possible. What do you possibly think how the story continues? Ponytaurs are exiles, remember? The locals would see us as invaders or even worse. That is a world we don’t know and don’t understand. And in addition we would be lumbered with the entire population within days.”

“We will just have to maintain a low profile,” answered Gladiox. “Listen, Sy. What do we have as alternatives? Honestly, do you think any other pack in Ödland would take two tramps like us in? They are hungry as well. We are alone and I rather disappear in trying to cross the border than in being gorged by my own kind.”

Reluctantly Syronyx finally gave in and both of the ponytaurs marched further toward Mt. Ziz.

“Even if we won’t get any chance to cross the border,” he began, “perhaps we can stay there unnoticed for some time and we can gorge some magic that spills over.”

Gladiox smiled. “Did you notice already? Today we have talked more than the whole last month.”