The Dreamcatcher

Blackness melted into a blurred grey. My head felt like a sack of bricks. Everything was hazy, out of focus; it was like my head had been held underwater for countless hours. I was vaguely aware that time had passed. However much, I wasn’t sure.

Dull, nondescript pain was grasping every muscle fiber in my body. Through my exhaustion and discomfort, I forced my heavy eyelids open. The familiar sight of jagged cave walls met my vision. I sighed with relief, careful not to awaken the dreaded pain in my ribs that tormented me earlier.

Working up enough strength to lift my neck, I scanned the cave. I had somehow been moved to the back of the small grotto, but the bright sunlight that poured through the mouth still illuminated it comfortably. Towards the front, rust-colored stains painted the wall and pooled towards the bottom, like some macabre painting by a psychopath. I shuddered, coughing. It felt like my teeth weren’t fitting together right in my mouth.

“Oh, you’re… awake,” a voice said. Even though my hearing felt like it was stuffed with cotton, I could make out that it was female. A little abrasive, but gentle sounding. I turned my head towards the source.

Near the front of the cave, resting on her stomach, was one of the griffins. Her golden eyes were locked onto me like some kind of predator. She got up, walking towards me slowly. In my dazed mind she looked like a panther or some other silent killer I could only imagine, closing in on its helpless prey.

The unfortunately familiar feeling of death approaching once again stabbed into me. I had come uncomfortably close to the faceless beast before, close enough to feel its icy breath threatening to steal my soul. Now it was coming to finish the job, taking of the visage of yet another griffin.

I tried to rise to my hooves, but cried out in pain and flopped down when the sudden motion caused pain to ricochet through my joints. The griffin froze for a moment before slowly approaching. A look of… fear was in her eyes.

“S-sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to scare you, just… don’t move, all right?”

“Wait!” I blurted out, propping my back against the abrasive cave wall and pushing myself up. Probably left behind to finish the job, I figured.

“Just relax, I’m not with them anymore,” she said. “I left them yesterday.”

I was skeptical. Even though my ability to trust was as beaten as my body, I knew she wasn’t lying. She was the only one of the bandits to not have laid a claw on me. Judging by the bloodstains decorating the cave, she was the only reason I was still alive, too.

“Why?” I asked after steadying myself on my aching hooves. “You could’ve eaten like a queen with your friends. Why’d you stay here with me?” The words came out harsh and accusative, but I was still unsure. And to be honest, I was trying to hide my crippling fear.

“Because I wasn’t going to leave you dead in a cave,” she sighed. “I owe you that much after all that’s happened.” I could see she was struggling to find the words to explain herself. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t upset. I was livid, I was terrified, I was exhausted. I wanted to ball up and cry. But at this point, what did I have left? Other than this suspicious griffin, all that remained was my battered body and spirit.

I winced, bringing a forehoof up to my chest. Shuddering, I recalled how my ribs popped under the unrelenting weight of the robbers’ paws.

“Are you all right?” she asked, concern in her voice. “I gave you all my healing potions yesterday, I hope they helped.” I figured they must’ve, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been talking to her. Looking down at myself, I saw my coat was dusted with gritty rock dust and grime. Splotched of dried blood flaked in certain places, especially my stomach where three jagged lacerations stretched across my pale green coat. Other than the scabbed-over wounds and bruises, though, I was in once piece.

“Yeah, I think they did,” I groaned. Using a hoof I brushed away some of the blood and dust that had accumulated on my coat over the time I was unconscious. The ex-bandit was fidgeting nervously, her face contorted with anxiety. She looked to be working up courage before she said:

“I know that this means close to nothing, especially right now, but I need to say it. I’m so, so sorry.”

I looked up at Talon. For the first time, I got a good view of the griffin. She was dark-coated, just like the others, but flecks of white speckled her plumage like spare snowfall. Her eyes burned a bright gold, glistening behind a film of tears. Her posture, laden with fear and regret, made her appear unnaturally small for a griffin.

“Looking back, I could have done so much more. I could’ve stopped this all but I didn’t. And I doubt you’ll ever forgive me but I need to let you how sorry I am,” she whispered. Tears dripped from each eye, leaving dark streaks where they rolled down her face. “I owe you more than you can imagine.”

Displays of pure emotion weren’t commonplace in my life. Sure, there were laughs and smiles of joy, as well as sobs. But I hadn’t seen such an unbridled display of regret before this. She looked like she was holding back sobs, trembling in the dusty cave. I was somewhat shocked; out of all the beings in the world, I would never have expected to see such a heartfelt apology from a near stranger, especially one who was an ex-bandit. It certainly helped my weary heart begin to trust her.

“I forgive you,” I said after a pause. I expected to see her eyes light up and a smile replace her scowl, but she still was melancholy.

“I don’t expect you to,” she said, dragging her claw through the pebbles and gravel. “I don’t deserve it, that’s for sure. How are you going to forgive a stranger who let that happen anyway?”

“Well, there aren’t that many ‘strangers’ who’d give up their own safety for somepony they barely know,” I reasoned. “In my eyes, you’ve already earned my forgiveness.”

She gave me a smile and a nod, but I could perceive that she wasn’t entirely confident. I didn’t blame her, to be honest. Forgiveness was different from trust. I could see that she was regretful, but the logical, self-preservative side of me nagged that she could just be trying to exploit me further. Trust had already caused so much damage. I would accept her apology, but I didn’t see myself ever becoming her friend.

“Thanks. I mean it,” she said, walking towards the mouth of the cave. I decided to change the subject.

“Do you know if there are any plants around this cave? I think I’m gonna need something for the walk back to Arbor,” I inquired.

“Yeah, there’s a few shoots and things a bit left of the cave,” Talon responded. “Do you, uh, need me to fly you there?”

I declined, partly out of awkwardness and partly out of uncertainty. A few steps into the walk and I regretted my choice, but I bit down and continued.

In a small clearing nearby the cave, greenish sprouts poked out from the dirt and stones, a personally encouraging reminder that life is resilient. There were nowhere near the rich, vibrant emeralds of Arbor’s plantlife, but I quickly spotted some ingredients for a basic remedy. I got to work harvesting.

“Are you some kind of doctor or farmer or something?” Talon asked, standing aside as I plucked and picked. “Just guessing, since you seem to know about these plants.”

“Herbalist. Back at home I’m an apprentice to the local apothecary.”

“Ah, that’s cool,” she said. “I could never get into all that ‘detailed measurements’ crap. No offense.”

“Hah, none taken,” I responded with a smile. “It gets tedious sometimes but I like it. What do you do, Talon?”

The question made her fidget, but she responded nonetheless. “I travelled with those guys for a few months. Before then, I was sort of… on my own, I guess. I wandered.” I hoped that ‘wandering’ didn’t entail any theft or beating, but I refrained from speaking of it.

“Did you have a permanent home before?” I asked, curious about the world outside of my own overgrown town.

“Yeah, I grew up in a town. Rocky area, so the place was basically made of stones. Food was a problem,” she told me. I waited, expecting her to continue. She didn’t.

I brought a collection of flora over to a flat stone, sorting through the various familiar ingredients as I brushed the surface clear. “Arbor’s a pretty nice town,” I mumbled, trying to make small talk.

Talon nodded in agreement, but a look of shame crossed her face. I began grinding up roots and petals while magically conjuring up a small flame to burn impurities off of a different ingredient. My griffin companion looked on, curious and impressed.

“I just hope they forgive me after all that,” I said, burning crookroot leaves into powdery dust.

“Maybe I should stay behind,” Talon mused aloud, still watching me work.

“Two parts springbud, then add the crookroot ash… What?”

“Well, they’re not exactly going to be friendly towards me,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t really want to get riddled with arrows.”

I snickered at her humor before replying. “I don’t think the guards are that unfriendly. Hay, give me a few days and maybe I’ll see if I can somehow get you in the community!”

“I wouldn’t be so optimistic,” she replied, her voice dull and monotone. She’s probably right, I thought as I pressed the medicine into an edible lump. Even though I hadn’t known her for long and wasn’t entirely trusting of her yet, I knew I was going to feel bad leaving her behind. Part of me was pleased, however, to soon get rid of all this ‘outside’ business and return to my nice warm bed.

I opened wide and pushed the hoofmade medicine into my mouth, biting down on it like an oversized, squishy pill. Ugh, it was exactly as bitter and tough to chew as I remember from the classes I first made it. I worked the unpleasant mass around in my mouth, trying not to look too ridiculous in front of Talon. As bad as it was, the basic recipe was pretty effective at speeding healing and reducing pain. These scars would fade in a few days time with their help.

“We should begin the walk back,” I said after I forced down the healing concoction.

“I guess,” Talon said. “It’s not too far, we just need to head south of the cave.” She sounded somewhat melancholy.

“Are you all right?” I asked, picking up on the sadness of her voice. We began to walk. My legs were no longer throbbing, but Talon still kept a slow pace to help me keep up.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, shaking away the sorrowful tone of voice.

“If there’s something wrong you can tell me,” I said. She sighed before she said:

“It’s just that I don’t really have a place to go now.” Before I could respond, she continued, “But that’s fine, I’ll work it out on my own. Always have.”

Talon had struck me as being much more independent than myself (and her ex-crew). I had no doubt that she’d survive just fine, if not better than before. Still, her worry made my heart feel queasy.

“Talon, I’m going to see if I can get you in Arbor,” I told her as we navigated through a patch of tall rubble. “I owe you that much.”

“You owe me nothing,” she snapped at me. I took my eyes off of the stone-littered terrain in front of us to look at her. She didn’t return the glance, instead staring ahead with determined eyes. “All right? You’ve got no debt to me. I’m the one who should be helping you and that’s final.”

I didn’t respond. Maybe pride is a griffin thing, I thought. Her response to my offer still didn’t help mitigate my desire to help her, though. I couldn’t wrap my head around it; it was a home for saving a life. That’s not generosity, that’s justice. She deserved it.

Before long, the steel-walled mass that was Arbor became visible through the sparse toppled buildings and dead grass-covered hills. I pointed it out to Talon, who was busy watching the sky. We picked up the pace, though admittedly not by much-- the landscape was not easy to roam wounded.

I saw the gates of Arbor from the outside for the first time. It was a tall passageway, at least twenty ponies high. Suspended above it was a heavy, rusted grate, rows of dark steel bars preventing entrance when the gate was down. They lowered it for the night and for emergencies (which were, thankfully, not common). To the left and right, the metal walls of the town curved and twisted, sealing the village from the outside world.

“It looks so much greener inside there, huh?” I asked Talon. She nodded, but was clearly trying to avoid looking out of shame. I tapped her on the shoulder, getting her to look at me.

“Thanks, Talon. Really,” I said. “You saved my life. Please don’t forget that.”

The griffin opened her beak to presumably begin the same mantra of ‘I could have done so much more’, but thankfully she seemed to be tired of it herself. I know I was.

“I guess this is goodbye, then,” she said, sad closure in her voice.

“Stay safe out there. And from what I can see, you’ll do fine out there,” I reassured her. She didn’t seem particularly welcoming of comforting words, something I had learned earlier. Other than when she apologized to me, I got the impression that she held her head high… or at least feigned confidence. There was something peculiar about her that I couldn’t put my hoof on, but that was no longer my business.

She headed off to the left, making sure to stay out of the guards’ sights. With one final half-hearted wave I trekked to the gate alone. Our parting was more unceremonious than I expected, but by now I was weary of emotion.

When I approached the entrance to Arbor, the gate manager put his hoof on the lever to lower the steel grate. I was a little apprehensive, but I figured that perhaps he didn’t recognize me from this distance.

The two guards I saw every day as I walked to the herbalist’s shop were standing guard. I noted with discomfort that one of them had thick bandaged wrapped around his muzzle; no doubt to keep his fractured jaw in place.

I walked slowly and kept a warm smile on, waiting for the watchstallions to recognize me. When they did, I was greeted with two telekinetically-drawn bows aimed at me.

The sight stopped me dead in my tracks. Both of them glared at me, occasionally darting their views to each other. I was frozen but not worried. After a moment of awkward silence, I spoke up:

“Hello, I’m Jadeleaf. I don’t know if you remember me but I live here,” I said, a bit more sheepishly than I anticipated.

“Oh, we know who you are,” The guard without the bandaged face said.

“Oh, good!” I said, taking a few steps forward, expecting them to put their bows away. Instead, they only stood adamant and readied their aim.

“Not a step further,” he said. His voice was threatening, authoritative. “You don’t live here anymore.”

I took a few steps backwards, careful not to move too quickly. Dread was beginning to pool up and weigh heavily in my stomach. “W-what do you mean? I’ve lived here my whole life.”

“You have been exiled for cooperation with malevolent forces seeking to harm the population of Arbor.”

Exiled. That word that I heard thrown around when Arborian law was the subject of discussion. The concept was frightening, but even moreso now that I had experienced the violent outside for myself. Nopony in my lifetime had been exiled. The occasional thief suffered a few nights in the local prison cell as well as public shame, but exile? That seemed like the punishment that would be given to some kind of villain.

“Cooperation? Wait, you don’t understand,” I reasoned, my voice shaky with sudden fear. “They tricked me. I didn’t ever mean for that to happen. This is a misunderstanding!”

The guards looked unimpressed while the gate operator looked down at the scene, unsure of whether or not to drop the gate.

“What’s done is done,” he said, more calmly than before. “There’s no trial or appeal for treason.”

What kind of justice was this?! I didn’t even get to explain myself! I was at a loss for words, grasping for some kind of excuse, a plead for mercy, anything.

“Please, just let me in,” I begged. Tears were stinging my eyes. “I have a family in there, I can explain myself in front of a judge, I’ll spend years in prison if I have to!”

“You should have thought about that before you left,” he replied. “You knew the rules and you broke them.”

My legs felt weak. I wasn’t a villain. I had done nothing wrong, but someone had the power to just take my home from me. I gazed into the town, my vision blurred with hot tears. There wasn’t a soul to be seen. No one to call out to.

I wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

I felt myself become faint, but before I teetered over I broke into a side sprint. I ran as fast as I could on my trembling hooves. I had nowhere to go, so I ran nowhere in particular. I galloped into the vast, terrifying horizon, hoping that somehow I’d run right off the edge. Denial, anger, crippling sadness felt like they were ripping my heart from my chest. Soon I returned to that familiar blur of unawareness that I escaped this morning. All I could feel was my hooves pounding against the stones.