A Fated Venture

Saturday, 4th Week of Summer

Please excuse my penmanship, Starswirl. It’s hard to even magically work a pen when you’re shaking with excitement. I’ve found the center. And I can honestly say I’ve never been more surprised. I expected to find some relic, some statue, some idol or scroll buried in a ruined temple. Or maybe an ancient tree from an elder age, kept alive with the magic it now spreads throughout the forest. Or maybe a deep chasm that descends all the way to the center of the world. I never expected to find this.

Equines! An actual, functioning civilization of equines! Can you believe it? For all this time we’ve thought that equines only lived in Equestria or surrounding lands, how could I have possibly imaged to find a village on an entirely different continent? Let alone in this creepy, dank Spiral Forest. I haven’t seen equines since I left that tribe of buffalo. What was that, five years ago? It’s been too long.

You may note my use of “equines.” I’m not entirely sure what they are, though I know they are hooved, sapient, and friendly. Well, “friendly” may be too strong of a word. “Hospitable” is a tad bit more accurate. Their appearance is… well, frankly, unusual. Honestly, while I’m picking apart diction, I might as well say “unsettling,” though that is harsh to say about my gracious hosts.

They most resemble a pony race, but have buffalo-esque hooves. Their body type resembles ponies, though they seem a bit taller and thinner. They lack horns or wings, possibly indicating a closer relationship to Earth ponies. There’s a slight luminescence in their eyes which I assume helps them see in the dark. Funny enough, that glow is the only thing distinguishing their irises from their scleras, both are white with a slight yellow tint. They do have cutie marks. Sort of. The marks more resemble that of a zebra, with abstract patterns instead of pictures. The few, and I mean very few, like two or three, foals I have seen all have the marks, and it may be possible they’re present from birth. All the marks are spirals, though the size of the spiral and decorative dots around it vary.

Those aren’t the really unsettling parts, though. Their movements are wrong. Or maybe just off-kilter, somehow. (That sounds so mean to say, but I have to describe it how I see it.) They’re too forceful. No, that’s not quite it. I’m having trouble putting it to words. It’s like they constantly struggle to move, like every little twitch pains them. They have very thin fur. Thin enough to see their skin, pale and wrinkled. Dark blue veins, almost black, spiderweb across them. I think the skin’s really thin, too. I swear, sometimes I can see their muscles slithering under the surface.

Ugh, look how rude I’m being. And to these perfectly hospitable equines! This horrible description will be the first thing ever written about them. Promise me you won’t let anypony else read this letter. I’m hoping we can actually send Equestrian ambassadors here, establish communication and trade with them. Introduce these ponies (yes, “ponies” now) to the wide outside world! And here I’m talking about them as though they’re monsters. They’re not monsters. I don’t know exactly what they are, but I’m determined to be friendly with them. I haven’t yet figured out what they call themselves. But for now, they are the residents of the Spiral Forest. The Spiral ponies.

It’s hard to say how friendly the Spiral ponies are, they’ve been fairly hard to communicate with. They have a very unchanging, blank facial expression. I’ve never seen one smile or frown or look angry, they just always look rather sour. It’s possible they reflect emotion in their language, but even the manner of their speech seems different to ours. They emit a continuous sound for the entire length of their conversations, making it impossible for me to pick out individual words. The sound is generally very high-pitched, though the exact tone fluctuates. My guess is that the subtle tonal changes indicate the words, inflections, and emotions. They converse among one another very rarely for a species that doesn’t seem to have any form of nonverbal communication. I’ve yet to see any writing, or even notable hoof gestures. They only seem to speak when they find it absolutely necessary. Its like they all just know what the other is thinking.

Personally, I find their lack of speech irritating. How am I supposed to learn a language nopony uses? Frederick, on the other hoof, probably appreciates their silence. Their pitch probably doesn’t resonate well with his sensitive ears. He always covers them with his paws and ducks into my pack whenever they talk. The first time, I tried to tell him he’s being rude, but he looked so terrified, curled up in a ball and shaking. He’s not going to do well during our stay here. I’m still trying to think of a way to help him out.

Having read my description of their appearance, I’m sure you can imagine my shock when I awoke to find one of these ponies standing over me. He was looking down on me, unblinking, while I slept. I locked eyes with him for what felt like forever. I kept waiting for him to attack. Fortunately, he simply turned and started walking down the path, in the same direction we were. Reflecting on that incident, its very, very likely I’m the first unicorn he’s ever seen. I’m sure I looked just as unusual to him as he did to me. Poor thing must have been terrified.

He walked until he was almost out of sight before suddenly stopping. He looked back at us. I assumed he wanted us to follow. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this whole situation, so I thought it best to do what he says and remain quiet, to avoid upsetting him. I woke up Frederick, who, upon seeing our host, looked far more shocked than I think I did. I gathered our things, and we went. That walk must have taken us all day. A full day of nothing but walking through a creepy forest, lead by a stallion that apparently wanted to stay in sight, but not be anywhere near us. I swear he paced himself so that we could only catch glimpses of him as we rounded the increasingly tighter curves. I called out a few times and asked him to wait. He didn’t. My hoofs are still sore from the trip.

We finally made it to the village, sweating, tired, and thirsty. There was no gate or entranceway, just, suddenly, the forest ended and the village began. I say “ended” but there are quite a few, very tall trees lying around, their branches still blocking the sky. Distinguishing day from night is still impossible. Walking in, I could see various Spiral ponies working on building a tiny cabin. All their homes look the same, all rectangular and made of a grey wood with a slightly blue tint. They lack doors, instead being covered with several giant leaves, which also make up the roofs. The village is circular, and the houses all face the center. The Spiral ponies who weren’t building the new home were working on their farms. So far, I’ve only noticed one crop, a bright red fruit somewhat similar in shape and size to an eggplant, though significantly flatter at the tops and bottoms. Rows of farms were dotted between the houses.

As soon as we entered the village, all the Spiral ponies stopped working and looked at me. As intense as it was, all those glowing eyes staring at me, I was surprised by their very small number. Assuming they don’t have any villages elsewhere in the world, the entire race probably has fewer than two hundred members.

I stopped as soon as the ponies turned to me, but our guide kept walking. Another stallion, the only Spiral pony to have a horn, stepped forward. Our guide spoke to him, got behind him, and they both turned to face us. The horned one looked us over, before turning to the other Spiral ponies. Apparently this one is the village leader. His cutie mark is much larger than the others, with the spiral covering almost his entire flank. He gave orders to the others, evidently telling them to get back to work. The rest of the village, including our guide, resumed farming and constructing while the leader stepped forward to us. Not quite sure of the proper response to meeting, I slowly lowered my head, still maintaining contact with his glowing eyes. He didn’t respond.

Eventually, I gently raised back up. Frederick, who had disappeared into my bag as soon as our guide had opened his mouth, peeked his fuzzy little head out, focused on watching the village leader. The leader spoke to us, and Frederick ducked back in. I then felt it necessary to establish that we spoke different tongues, while maintaining formality.

“Hello, sir. My name is Venture.” I pointed to myself with my hoof as I said my name. “I am a unicorn from the far-off land of Equestria. We’ve come in a peaceful mission of exploration.”

Upon hearing my voice, he looked us over again, staying completely motionless except for his eyes. He spoke again, possibly giving us his name, though I have no way of writing down what he said. He turned and started walking away. I’ve said they all walk like they’re hurt, but the leader has a very pronounced limp. His forelegs almost drag his hind legs along the ground, like they’re too heavy to lift up.

When he noticed I hadn’t taken the hint to follow him, he turned around and waited for us. The second we started after him, he began walking again. As he guided us across the village, various ponies stopped their work to stare at us and talk to each other. It’s very disquieting, knowing somepony is staring at you and talking about you, but neither their face or voice gives you any clue what they’re saying. As soon as we moved past these ponies, they resumed working. Even the foals seemed to help on the farms, carrying bags of seed for their parents.

During this little trip across town, I saw the center. The focal point of the town, the Spiral’s conclusion, the very dead center of the forest. There’s a pond. Or a pool of some liquid, purple and thick. Of course, it’s perfectly circular, varying in about twenty to twenty-five meters in diameter. The whole pool swells and recedes rhythmically, like a miniature tide. It spreads out from the center then gets sucked back in, leaving traces of the fluid on the shore. The constant motion is quite mesmerizing.

I stared at it for a few moments. Maybe longer. The view was interrupted by the sudden appearance of the leader’s head. He stood, crouched down, his face mere inches from mine. His breath was quiet and gentle, but feeling it flow across my face made me shiver. It smelled like rot. My stomach churned. We locked eyes again, and for the first time, I looked away. I couldn’t even think about diplomacy or politeness, I just shut my eyes and backed away.

After a moment, I opened my eyes again. The leader was still focused on me, but he nudged his head, clearly motioning for me to follow him. However offput I was by our last little interaction, I was proud to finally have, if only to a small degree, communicated with him.

He led us to an empty cabin, where we now sit. Frederick’s sleeping on our little grass bed. I’m not sure what the Spiral ponies are doing while we wait here. I suppose the leader wants to keep us here while they discuss what to do with us. Though, maybe, he realized we were tired and just wanted us to get some rest. I can’t sleep now. As frankly surreal and unpleasant as this situation has been, this is by far the most fascinating thing I could have hoped to discover. I’m too nervous, and too excited, to sleep.

I hope to interact with them more, maybe discover an actual communication method. My internal clock is failing me, but I’ll try to write everything I discover about their society tomorrow. Friend, we have, pun intended, spiraled into the unknown. And I’m going to experience every bit of it I can.

Goodbye for now, friend.