The Dreamcatcher

“You need to eat something, Jadeleaf.”

Talon placed a small, colorful packet in front of me. I wanted to push it away, the same way I wanted to push the entire world away from me. However, my stomach was groaning and begging for sustenance despite my mood.

I didn’t want to think about it. Everything was lost. I had no more home. No place to rest my head, no happy, floral-smelling town to frolic in and live out my youth. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that it had all ended so suddenly; I felt like someone had pulled my guts out, leaving nothing but a hollow void.

That was nothing compared to having lost my family. My stern but loving mother who nuzzled me into her chest when I was just a filly. Father, with his raspy voice and the smell of bitter soot from working in the furnaces all day, who would fuss up my mane and call me a new nickname every week. I didn’t even want to think of my brother; every time his name came into my mind, I could see his face. I imagined the look of horror when he heard I was gone forever. He truly loved me and I loved him. Now it was gone. Somehow, it felt like my world had shattered so long ago.

“You’re gonna starve,” Talon sighed, looking out into the horizon.

Let me starve, you damned bird, I thought to myself. As I was running yesterday, a shadow circled overhead. Talon was watching the whole scene; she hadn’t left after all. I don’t remember it clearly, but according to her she stopped my aimless sprint. She then brought me to the old griffin bandit camp (she assured me that they weren’t stupid enough to come back there). Another day had passed of which I had slept through. Tears flowed freely in the hours I was awake, but I didn’t have the strength to sob.

I didn’t have the willpower anymore to resist my needs. I lifted the package up, even my magic feeling weak. Tearing the plastic, I could see that Talon had given me a package of crackers. I guess it was better than nothing.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, thrusting one of the pale white squares into my mouth. It was as flavorless and dull as I felt. The hours of nondescript sadness had made just made me tired. When I swallowed it, I could feel the mass snake its way into my stomach and lie still like a small stone.

“No problem,” Talon said after a period of time, still keeping watch through the empty space in the wall where I imagine a window once was. As this was my second time here, I had gathered enough information to figure out that this was, at one point, some kind of information booth and rest stop. Whatever road it once sat on was long gone, chipped away and buried. Nothing remained inside of it, minus the fridge I remembered from a few days ago. Talon was kind enough to drag out the old mattresses and sleeping mats the bandits had used. It didn’t help me forget at all, though. I doubted anything would.

Though these walls provided some physical protection from whatever was out there, it didn’t ease my worries. I was lost in the world now. Nothing to aspire to, no path in life. I was alone now, with nothing but the vast, incomprehensible openness of the world around me. Whatever world was left after the disappearance of the Princesses. I wished I had gotten to live in the time when towns grew wide and tall and there weren’t bandits roaming.

“Those bandits,” I groaned, unaware I was actually saying anything. Talon looked over at me, her eyes tired. Those damned bandits. How could any thinking being be able to do something like that without a second thought? And to abuse an innocent pony’s trust was just cruel. What they did wasn’t rational, wasn’t civil… that’s the kind of things animals do.

“Talon, we’re going to find the bandits.” I said, lifting my head. My jaw ached from being rested on the hard floor so long.

“That’s…” the griffin began, her eyes growing wide with surprise. “That’s not a good idea and you know it.”

“Sometimes justice isn’t always easy,” I responded curtly, shooting her a glare. “If you won’t come along, then fine. I’ll do it myself.”

“No you’re not,” she said sternly, matching my stare with hers. “You’re right that they probably deserve whatever you have in mind but… that’s not you, all right?”

Not me. What the hell did she know about me?

“Talon, you met me half-dead in a cave,” I started, rising to my hooves. “Just a day or two ago. I don’t think you have any idea who I am.”

“The kind of ponies to offer food and rest at their home to strangers, and then later risk their lives trying to save what belongs to their friends and families… they’re not the kind to do this.” She paced to the other side of the room, breaking her eye contact with me.

“Why are you even here with me?!” I cried out, making her jump slightly. “To be my moral compass? What do you know about morals anyway? You were a bandit!”

She looked down at the ground, a familiar look of regret on her face. Instantly I wished I could bite my tongue off for being so harsh.

“I’m trying to… trying to change, all right?” She breathed, her head hanging. “You think I’m proud of what I’ve done? That I’ve been a bandit, a raider, a thief? Seeing you was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

I wanted to apologize for my outburst, but I didn’t know how to word it. She continued. “Jadeleaf, I told you I’ve been with these guys for a few months at least. There’s a reason for it, but it basically boils down to ‘I had no choice’. They’re done horrible, rotten things, and screw ‘em for that. But I never felt right with it. And seeing you… well, it made me think of who I could be. Who I should have been.”

Her explanation provided sudden clarity. It explained why she stayed with me, at the very least. Other than that, it showed why she was hesitant when we met after I snuck out of Arbor; she wasn’t happy with tricking me.

“If you’re so convinced on doing the right thing, then why do you want to let those flankholes go?” I asked, skeptical.

“It’s got nothing to do with morality, if that’s what you’re thinking. They deserve a hell of a lot worse than whatever they’re gonna get. It’s just that…” she paused, bringing a claw to her chin. “What I said was true. A townspony like you… have you ever gotten in a fight? I don’t think you have any idea how to defend yourself.”

Once again, Talon brought up a logical point. I hadn’t fought anypony in my life. It was a stupid idea to even consider, to be honest. Hunting them down, bucking their door in, and getting some well-needed justice certainly was going to be easier in thought than in practice.

The logic of it didn’t concern me though. I was always prone to hotheadedness, and right now I was livid. I wanted revenge, thirsty for my own personal retribution. Somehow I wanted to put them back in their place, whatever form that would take. And maybe, just possibly, I could get the supplies from Arbor back. I could tote back the sacks of foodstuff and medicines and whatever else they had taken, and Arbor would let me back in and I could finally rest my weary muscles on my own bed, instead of this stiff half-flanked excuse for a mattress.

The possibility for return was the selling point. I could already see it: Me, lugging fattened, heavy sacks to the front gate, the guards lowering their bows, me walking in a hero and getting showered with hugs and kisses from my family and I could finally go back to the way things were…

“I just have to let you know something else, too,” my distant savior sighed. She had stopped making eye contact with me, instead staring out onto the greying horizon, the pinks and purples of twilight bleeding into the monochrome vastness that spread all around us.

“What is it?” I asked after she didn’t continue.

“Revenge isn’t going to bring you back your home.”

I opened my mouth to give some snarky rebuttal or some other justification to that, but my normally quick wits failed me. Once again, she had a point, one I’ve heard before a thousand times. And it almost always held true. Revenge never does get you what you want.

However, rage still boiled, in my heart like furious magma in the center of a volcano. Something needed to be done, I knew. Injustice can’t just be allowed to flourish and be accepted! At that point I felt like I wanted to kick those griffins’ beaks in almost as much as I wanted my home back.

“No, it won’t, but this isn’t about Arbor,” I said defiantly. “This is about showing a pack of goons what’s okay and what’s not. What they did is not ever okay. I don’t ever want them, or anything out there, to hurt somepony again, and if I have to get violent I will.”

“So be it.”

The griffin’s response was nearly instant, almost as though she had entirely predicted what I was going to rant about. I was honestly a little surprised. Something about the way her aurulent eyes had grown softer and more tired looking as this conversation droned on gave me the impression that this was something she was tired of. Not me specifically, but the passion for retribution. I was in no mood to hear another lecture, though, so I inquired as to where we might find them.

“They’ve got a hideout a fair walk north of here. A barn from the old world,” she informed. “Whenever they got a good score they’d hole up there and make excursions to sell the stuff off. Unless they’ve gotten wind of little miss avenger over here, they’re still going to be there.”

“Great, can we make it there by nightfall?” I asked, ignoring her lighthearted mockery. Without waiting for an answer I rose to my hooves, thankful that my strength had almost completely returned to my sore muscles. Although sharp pain bit into my bones whenever I put too much weight on one limb, I was confident that I was as healed as I needed to be.

“Not on foot,” she said. I groaned loudly. With the smog of hopelessness dissipated, I found myself to be painfully stir-crazy. “Though you do seem light enough to possibly ride on my back.”

To emphasize the point, then splayed her wings out, slate feathers spread out like fans at the ends. They were much larger and meatier than the wings of a pegasi. She could probably cover some serious ground with that wingspan, and judging by the faint grin on her face, she was proud of it.

“Hop on,” she said. “As much of a bad idea this is, they do deserve a lesson.”

Gingerly, I lifted a foreleg and draped it around her back. The bristles of her coat were stiff and smooth against my fur. “Promise not to fly too high?”

“Close your eyes if you want,” she said as I hoisted myself onto her back, yelping when my ribs twisted. I pressed my hind legs tightly around her flanks, looping my forelegs around her neck as tightly as I could without choking my method of transportation to death. Her spine was pressing awkwardly into my belly, but an uncomfortable ride is better than no ride at all. She tucked her wings back against her side, backing up and aiming her body towards the empty space where a window once existed.

“Hang on tight,” she instructed, dashing towards the window. Her claws pounded on the dusty tiles as she picked up speed. I squeezed my forelegs around her neck, burying my snout into the plumage on the back of her neck and begging whatever forces were looking out for me that I wouldn’t slip.

She dove out the second-story window, her wings unfolding immediately after she cleared the opening. With a powerful thrust, she levelled herself just before she hit the ground face first. I may have screamed.

“Sorry, I don’t normally fly with a terrified pony hugging my back,” she grunted, bringing her altitude higher via a series of strong wing beats. Each time those tall appendages rose, it was like two tall shadows were cast over me on either side. I peered out over the side, catching glimpses of the ground when her wings were out of the way. It reminded me of the view from the rooftops at home, but soon Talon rose even higher than the tallest building I had scaled in my life. The landscape, desolate and broken, spread out below me like a map of a forgotten civilization.

The terror thankfully gave way to a sensation of thrill. Once I felt secure in my grip, I rested, feeling the jet of air rushing past us and blowing my mane back. The coolness was a welcome retreat from the warm dusk air. Even with the security of Talon below me, I felt like I was in a blissful freefall, my insides tingling as though they had trouble catching up with the rate my griffin friend was flying. The wind whooshed with each slow flap of her wings, gusts of air tickling my ears and nose.

For a while, I managed to let my mind wander from the anger that had tormented me minutes ago.

Talon’s claws ground against pebbles as they collided with the gravel and dirt, the griffin skidding to an awkward, heavy stop. I winced as my sore ribs bounced and jolted, Talon steadying herself at the landing point. As I carefully swung my hooves over her back and felt the firm ground, I couldn’t help but feel thankful the flight had ended. As exhilarating as my first aerial experience was, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little sick from the heights we reached.

“They haven’t seen us yet,” Talon said, peering at the barn. “Otherwise they would’ve taken off.”

I squinted, the growing shadows of night hiding the building’s features like a veil. It stood lone and proud, watching over the sloping hills and once-lush fields around it. On its far side, a vast span of ancient tree trunks spread out in an array, gnarled black fingers curling from grey earth in a quantity that would make any Arbor’s own orchard look like a patio garden. The eerie sight was of no use however; the trees had been dead and petrified for years, if the stories were to be believed. From the starlight cast down on the structure, I could tell that what probably once was dark red paint had withered and chipped into a brown, blanched color. Despite its apparent age, the barn showed no signs of structural decay; certainly unlike the sparse buildings we had passed on the way here, which had collapsed in some places and rotted in others.

“It certainly makes a good hideout,” I idly said, still trying to plan a course of entry. Talon said that it was just the three, and chances are they were all going to be sorting through the loot. Front door was an option, but I could make out the faint shape of a back passage through my scrunched eyelids.

“We could storm that back there,” I pointed with a hoof, saying it as more of an instruction than a suggestion. Talon made it abundantly clear that she was just going to follow my orders; this was my revenge, after all. We had finalized our planning during the journey. My primary goal was to take back what belonged to Arbor. However, I had no interest in sneaking around like a rat. I was far too tired of feeling so small after what they did to me. No, I swore I’d have my revenge. Hooves can hurt a lot when you put your weight behind a kick.

I could tell that Talon wasn’t happy about the plan, but she insisted that she still owed me in some way, so she’d have no choice but to help. Rather than bringing up that topic, I continued rattling off the battle strategy. She’d take two and I’d take one. I didn’t like making her be outnumbered, but I trusted that she wouldn’t get overwhelmed.

“I guess that’s the plan, then,” she said, a little hesitant still. “After all that’s happened, whatever does happen, we’ll meet here if we split up. Okay?”

We had landed on a nearby hill, with a barren path that led down to the barn. Thankfully, it seemed to be out of view of the barn’s inhabitants as long as they remained inside. Squinting again, I could see a flicker of orange light through a dark window. They were there all right.

“It’s a plan. Let’s move,” I said, a little less confidently than I intended. The one part of the plan I left out was what exactly I was going to do with the griffins. I was just hoping to leave them with a nasty beating (forgive my desire for violence), but… what if it didn’t go according to plan? If my previous experience was any indicator, these guys weren’t afraid to kill.

I didn’t have time to contemplate further, as Talon was already bounding down the pathway, her tail flicking behind her in the shaded twilight. I followed after her, glad that my limbs no longer screamed with each step. Before I caught up to her though, I stopped at a wooden sign that swung beside the path, suspended by two rusted chains attached to poles in the ground. Though the wood had grown soft around the edge from rot and age, I could still make out the ornate, dark writing on the board.

WELCOME TO SWEET APPLE ACRES

Talon and I approached the building cautiously, our pace slowing as we drew closer to the ancient barn. I kept my eyes down most of the time, watching my hooves move silently in the dark and making sure I didn’t accidentally disturb and pebbles or stray branches.

We stood in front of the back door quietly, listening over the growing orchestra of crickets. Haunting, brash voices were snorting with laughter and making unknown conversation, the sounds of their voices dimmed by the thick wooden walls. The sound still rattled me to the bone. Fear sure does cool a temper, I thought to myself. Was this a good idea after all?

“This door doesn’t have a lock,” Talon whispered, leaning forward. “Well, it did, but Stonewing decided to smash it in a rage a while ago.” Violent tendencies didn’t surprise me at this point. I gave a shrug.

“Do we just walk in then?” My question was nearly cut off by a bout of boisterous laughs, a voice as abrasive as sandpaper. Flankhole’s probably loving that score he just took.

Talon’s beak screwed up in thought as she mulled the options through her mind. I watched the pale light flicker through the cracks in the doorframe. The (what I imagined) lantern seemed close enough that we could storm in there and take them.

“Well, there’s a cellar we could go through,” Talon suggested, her eyes lighting up in the dim glow. “I doubt they’re down there now. I hear three voices fairly close. The inner doorway to the cellar is a lot closer than this door,” she said, nodding her head towards the back entrance. The idea seemed a lot more appealing. Ideally, I wanted as little time as possible for them to grab a weapon or react in some way. Visions of Firebeak’s crossbow made me cringe.

“All right, we’ll do that,” I whispered back, my ears still perked as I listened to the bandit’s banter. Talon gingerly tiptoed around me, heading to the far side of the barn. For a creature larger than me, she moved gracefully and thoughtfully. Once again, the resemblance of a predator made me swallow a lump in my throat. I followed carefully.

A pair of rotting cellar doors stood beside the barn’s wall, colored the same sickly crimson-brown as the rest of the sad building. Standing on this side, I got a better look at the wasteland orchard. I imagined each one of those crooked worms being lush and full of leaves, with thick, fresh bark and ripe fruit so heavy it pulled the branches down. There wasn’t a lot of green out here, not like Arbor.

What was I going to do without Arbor?

“Here,” Talon whispered, seemingly aware of my wistfulness. She slowly parted the doors, slow enough that any creaking of the ancient joints blended with the chirping of the nocturnal insects. I kept lookout, scanning the sloping hills for potential threats. The only shadows seemed to be those of the trunks, thankfully.

“I’ll go first, it’s going to be dark,” Talon said, finding footing on the concrete steps. She delicately led herself down into the blackness. From her gait, I got the impression she was as nervous as I was. Though the night was warm and humid, I couldn’t help but shiver. Talon, similarly, had the same shrunken posture I had seen when she approached me in the cave, though whether it was out of stealth or apprehension was beyond me. I couldn’t see easily into her.

I crept in behind her, the stone dusty and cool beneath my hooves. Darkness hung in front of us like a curtain. It had already halfway swallowed my fellow conspirator. “Uh, Talon?” I asked quietly. “Do we have a candle or something?”

“They left something near the crates directly left of this stairway,” she replied. “Sure hope it’s still there.” Me too.

After a quiet walk down the stairs, Talon’s rump levelled with her upper body; we had entered the basement. A few steps in and I was immediately ingested by the blackness. The ceiling was low and obstructed my view out the doorway, and what little moonlight shone down on us was little comfort in this void. I gritted my teeth and waited for Talon to fumble around until she lit something, knowing my eyes would never adjust to this level of darkness. It certainly wasn’t a comforting place. As if the lack of illumination wasn’t bad enough, it stunk. Something indescribably foul hung in the air, somewhat sweet and rancid that made my nostrils crinkle.

“Theeere we go,” Talon sighed, a flicker of light bursting out of the dark. Yellow glow filled the room, and the smell of burning lantern oil danced in with the mysterious stench. “Watch your step, it’s not very neat down here. Haven’t been down here for a long time anyway.”

The cellar was clearly a storage room, dusted cobwebs chaining together old wooden crates. Flat cobblestone made up the floor, Talon’s light illuminating the smoothed rocks. To the right, a stairwell similar to the one we just descended rose from this level, reaching into what was undoubtedly the barn itself.

“There,” I gestured to the door with a hoof. Talon lifted the lantern, making sure that the metal didn’t clang as the hoisted it. Worry was gnawing at my nearly nonexistent will to do this. Rage had dissolved by now, replaced with a vague sensation of dread. The only thing that kept me creeping forwards in this claustrophobic cellar was a sense of impending justice. Confidence certainly wasn’t a motivator.

My hoof sunk into something malleable, and I almost yelped. Quickly withdrawing, I saw my hoofprint set into a wet burlap sack. The smell had grown nauseatingly strong now, it’s source wrapped in this bag. Several others accompanied it, leaning against each other like sleeping figures.

Talon seemed equally curious as to what it was, because she set the lantern down and looked the sack over. What I had feared it could be-- namely, pony corpses-- was an impossibility unless these bandits were particularly fond of blending equines into smoothies. The bags didn’t seem bloody anyway, just damp and moldy.

The griffin pulled the head of the sack open with a clawtip, recoiling slightly. I looked in the bag too, holding my breath. A dark, yellowed mush filled the bag, stripes of red and green dotting the brownish goop. Apples. The most disgusting, rotten apple sauce I had ever seen. I wiped my hoof off on the stones, grimacing.

Talon shrugged and nodded her beak towards the door, signifying that we should probably stop exploring until we were safe. I wanted to whisper how I’d much rather nose through sacks of rotten fruit than be anywhere near those feathered nightmares, but I was way too deep in to escape now. I felt moisture bead up under my bangs, despite the relatively low temperature of the cellar. If Talon wasn’t here I would have bolted.

She took point ahead of me, climbing up the stairs. The voices of the robbers grew noisier, some venomous, some gruff. How I ever trusted those voices was beyond me now. Inspecting the lock, Talon gave me a nod, indicating that it wasn’t secured. One push and we’d burst into the barn. Talon would take the two farthest and I’d take the close one. I remembered what she told me: Don’t let their claws rake you, avoid those beaks at all costs, aim for the stomach and the face. She trusted herself well enough to deal with two, thankfully. I wasn’t sure I could deal with half of a griffin.

Her pair of golden eyes watched me, waiting. On my signal, we would go. In those eyes I didn’t see any fear. I saw willingness, power, and dedication among other elements. If she had any fear, she was a master of hiding it. It helped build up my own confidence, thank the heavens. She was strong when I was weak. I hoped that one day the situation could be reversed, out of a blend of personal pride and my quest for fairness. I didn’t have time to contemplate friendship, though. Taking a deep breath of the stale, unpleasant air I nodded. She lifted the lantern and pushed the door open.