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                     The Dreamcatcher                      
                        -by Glist-                         
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                     Chapter 1: Arbor                      
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Chapter 1: Arbor
I always wondered why the trees outside of the walls were black and gnarled. And why there were so few. Inside, what plants grew were green and spry, symbols of life sprouting from the fine soil. They all seemed so fluid and full of energy. Out there, though, gaunt trunks and limbs stood like ghostly hands, frozen in time as they reached from the desolate ground. Monuments that there was something before “it” happened, that there was a much greater world outside Arbor. Emphasis on was.
I drew in a cool breath, filling my lungs with the fresh air of the heights. Down below in town, everything had the earthy smell and accompanying heat of growing plants. Ripe fruit and plump vegetables, fragrant blossoms and ancient wood were all so common I could practically identify each aromatic tone. I can’t say I didn't love it though; it was my cutie mark after all. A single green leaf adorned each of my flanks, a somewhat-fitting mark for me.
Apothecary work was always in the family blood. So it was no surprise when one day while stomping a pile of leaves into mush did my marks appear. Apparently I had made some kind of a poultice by accident. Funny how that works. Anyway, excuse the rambling.
It was as nice a day as any; a few stray bands of sunlight twinkled on the metallic city walls. I had just finished up my daily botany lessons (thank heavens) and was now free to spend the remainder of my afternoon relaxing.
“Tag!” cried a squeaky voice from behind me. “You’re it!”
An all-too-familiar hoof prodded my back. “Mushroom,” I growled, getting up on all fours. My dumb foal brother always found my quiet hiding places.
He snorted. “What’s wrong Jade, can’t catch me?”
Oh, it was on then. I twirled around and darted forward, causing him to leap away. We were on the rooftops of the village. Our family hated that we went up there all the time, but thankfully understood that there was no talking down a renegade streak. Still hot on his tail, I called out.
“Those stubby legs of yours won’t carry you far, Mushy!” I teased, leaping over a gap in the rooftops. My hoof-falls clopped against the steel tiles, a good deal heavier than his. Still, the little rat was as quick as me.
“Don’t call me that!” he grunted as he leapt to a lower roof. I made a mental note to call him that name more. Despite the competition, it was strangely relaxing being above everything. From the rooftops, Arbor seemed like an island in the middle of a sea of grey and brown. Some part of me wished to venture beyond the walls, but nopony ever let me when I was a filly. The lesson became hardwired in after numerous time-outs and firm scoldings.
I nearly ran face-first into a wall mid-thought. I could hear Mushroom laugh as I stopped dead in my track a few inches from the concrete. Turning again, I practically dove for him, getting so close that I could hear his panting.
“Jadeleaf! Mushroom!”
That tone of voice would stop anypony dead in their tracks. We both skidded to a halt, our ears perked. Mother was standing on our balcony, glaring at us. Mushroom and I exchanged nervous glances before making our way off of the rooftops and trotting over to our own home. When we got there, Mother was standing menacingly in the doorway.
“Hey Mom, we were just--” My rationalization was cut off by a snort from her.
“Jumping on the rooftops, disturbing the neighbors, and almost getting yourselves killed again?” She asked us, her tone icy. One eyebrow was cocked in disappointment, her silver eyes seeming as punitive as always. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she was a master at making you feel bad in the most subtle ways.
“...yes, Mom.” I admitted. Mushroom shot me an angry sneer. I wanted to tell him it was no hope lying, but he’d learn that on his own soon enough. Not to mention Mother’s glare had me frozen.
“I don’t know how many scoldings I can give you until you learn. No dessert tonight, but I know that won’t teach you anyway.” The idea of missing out on Grandma’s famous berry tarts was painful enough, but it her disappointment in me was worse than any other punishment.
“Aww, but Mom, we were just having fun!” Mushroom squealed. I cracked a smile, knowing that the whole ‘no dessert’ thing was intended for him. I was a young mare now, too old for petty little punishments. Still, her words stung like a slap.
She turned around and marched in, her hooves clopping on the thin metal porch. Everything seemed to be metallic. I always noticed that the houses seemed to be made of scrap material, but I never did ask why. I figured I’d ask Grandma about it today; there was a lot on my mind I was curious about, especially outside. Not only that, but I found my dear old grandmother to be a great warmth when my mother was cold and authoritarian with me.
Wisps of steam curled up and away from my cup of tea, like gossamer ribbons. The room was dark as it usually was; Grandma said that too much light hurt her eyes. We had come up to her room after dinner (which thankfully went well, as Mother had cheered up after I helped her cook).
I waited for a moment, watching the twilight sky through a dusty window. Grandma’s room had a nice view of the town’s center garden, a lush and overgrown patch of land that stood out from the greys and browns of the buildings towering over it. The day guards and the night guards were switching out their shifts, handing off their bows and arrows to each other as another was checking the front gate mechanism. I turned my attention to Grandma, who was watching gingerly sipping her tea.
“I wanted to ask a few questions, Grandma,” I said. She looked up from her tea and smiled, her eyes sunken with age but still joyful.
“So you’ve said,” she responded, levitating the cup back down to its coaster. “I’ll try my best, dearie.”
I smiled. “I wanted to know a bit about… outside,” I whispered, as though it were a forbidden word. Curiosity had been boiling up for a while now. Why were there no ponies out there? Why was everything dead? And why do we have to have guards and walls?
As soon as the words registered in her slow, thoughtful mind, her ears drooped weakly. Her eyes lost the whimsical shine and just looked sad and old. I instantly regretted asking and was about to withdraw my question, but she took a deep breath and began.
Well, you can probably tell it wasn’t always like this. Even in my own grandparents' generation there was no such thing as Arbor. It was just a pile of scrap from some plant somewhere. Things were so much better then, you know. The sun and the moon didn't always vary in patterns. Days were the same length all the time and so were nights. Plants grew everywhere, even in the little cracks in the streets. We didn't have to have big walls or guards with bows or anything like that. Ponies were happy.
At that time, there were two princesses: Celestia, the princess of the sun, and Luna, the moon princess. I’m sure you've heard of them in your little books, but they were as real as you and me. And they controlled the sun and the moon, every day. They were the leaders of Equestria, and they loved each and every one of us. They were spectacularly magical too. Ever heard of an alicorn? Yup, that was them.
There were six others more, you know. I don’t remember their names, darn this old brain of mine. But they were special too. Ponies called them the Elements of Harmony. If you thought of any of the things that made a friendship good and right, one of them was the symbol of it. I think one of them even got to be a princess too.
But that doesn’t matter now. One day, all eight of them just disappeared. Poof. Vanished without a trace. Now in hindsight it may have been a little foalish to leave the entire kingdom as the responsibility of just two goddesses, but they were the most magical, powerful things ponies knew. It didn’t take long before Equestria just fell into hysteria.
To make matters worse, you remember how I said they controlled the sun and the moon? Yup, when they were gone, so was that pattern. One minute you were staring at the sun in the sky and the next it was pitch black.  It was horrible. You couldn’t grow plants, couldn’t get food, couldn’t survive. Thank the heavens Arbor’s founders were lucky enough to magically produce enough light to sustain plants, because out there you don’t know when you’re eating next.
Speaking of out there, it’s dangerous. Those Elements of Harmony apparently meant a lot, because when they were gone, so was harmony itself. Friends turned on each other, lovers broke up, and sometimes there were little wars. Ponies or otherwise began to use violence to solve their problems. Ponies died. Far too many. We never were meant to fight, you know. A few families managed to settle down right here, fashion these walls and buildings out of the metal they found lying around, and began to regrow. That’s the birth of Arbor. I’m sure there’s more like it out there, but it’s like stars in the night sky; there’s lots of darkness between ‘em.
Thankfully it did start to get better. The sun and the moon sorted themselves out, even if it was a bit too late. Still the schedules are a bit looney and we still need to use the magic lights from time to time. At least in Arbor, ponies are happier and friendlier now, although I don’t know if it’s the same kind of magical friendship there was before.
So much else has changed. Did you know pegasi used to be able to control the weather, kick clouds around? Imagine how much that would’ve helped out. Us unicorns used to be a lot better at magic too. And earth ponies could grow the darn best plants you can imagine, but now that just isn’t the case.
With a long, slow sigh, she looked up at me. “Ponies used to have dreams, you know. And not like ‘hopes’ dreams, we still have those. When you’d sleep at night, sometimes you’d… oh, I don’t know. I’ll tell you tomorrow, all right? All this talking’s worn me out.” She sipped on her tea again, which had by now grown lukewarm.
I felt my head swimming. It felt like the whole ground under me had shifted. To think, there was something there before us. Something so different, so alien sounding. I felt naive, lost, and afraid. I put the utmost trust in Grandma, but this sounded like a story she’d tell to me when I was a foal.
“Thanks Grandma,” I said after a long pause. The night sky had replaced the purple twilight, a glowing moon hidden behind grey clouds. To think, once upon a time a pony controlled that thing, I thought.
“You should probably head to bed, missy,” she said. She gave me a grin, but I could feel that telling me all that had shaken her. I apologized quietly and went off to my room.
I could barely fall asleep that night. If anything, Grandma just made me even more curious. It gnawed at my intestines like a starved rat. Kicking the sheets off of my bed, I rolled off of my mattress and tiphoofed over to the window. Suddenly the walls felt more like a prison than just, well, walls. The new insecurity I felt was strangely sickening. I didn’t know it at that moment, but that was the night my life would be forever determined.

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                   Chapter 2: Strangers                    
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Chapter 2: Strangers
Chapter 2: Strangers
The next day, I was on harvest duty in the central garden. It was one of my more favorite jobs as an apprentice of the town’s potionmaker clique. The quiet time was very well needed, because most other days I was sitting in a cramped room reeking of boiled plants and smashed roots, listening to my superiors bark out orders. I was a good learner, but I have never known anypony who thought learning was fun. Out here in the garden I could actually stretch my legs and hear my own thoughts.
I ambled through the rows of plant-life, between thick bushes of kindleberries and the hanging, fuzzy tendrils of aercrest. Part of me wanted to just frolic through the soft grasses and take a long nap in the leaves, but I had a job to do at the moment. As I filled my saddlebags with fresh sprigs and ripe fruit, I scanned the town.
The garden was essentially the heart of Arbor, a fact that was confirmed by Grandma last night. Its emerald greens stood out so vibrantly from the brown and grey behemoths that surrounded it. Behind all those dinged-up shacks and towers, an even darker, almost menacing wall of thick steel surrounded the town. It looked as impregnable as ever minus that space over there, towering over-- wait, was that a space!?
In between two buildings I spotted a rather obvious break in the wall. Daylight poured through like a bright scar on the smoke-grey surface. Has that always been there? How has nopony noticed it before?!
Needless to say, this new discovery hastened my plant-picking efforts tremendously. Within a few minutes, my saddlebags felt like they were full of gravel. I trotted over to the garden overseer.
“Hey Rosethorn,” I said to the mare. Rosethorn was slightly my elder, but not by much. Her pale pink coat made her easily visible through the flora. “I finished picking all the stuff Professor Manedel wanted me to,” I continued, dropping my saddlebags in front of her.
“Good job,” she beamed, pleased by my abnormal hastiness in completing my chores. “Let me see what else there is for you on the list,” she said, lifting a piece of paper up to her face. I glanced over at the alleyway I saw the crack in. From here I couldn’t see the opening. Maybe I had just seen a sunbeam or something…
“Actually, it looks like that’s it for the day,” she told me, looking up.
“Am I really free to go or are you just pulling my leg?” I asked, smiling.
“Since when was ‘time off’ ever joke material for either of us?” she responded. “Go on, have a nice day. Just don’t dent any roofs with all your jumping around, all right?”
“I won’t!” I called back, already darting towards the exit of the garden.
I crept towards the light in the alley, as if it were some mysterious beast. I made sure nopony saw me coming here; they all assumed I was still working. For a while I contemplated telling Mushroom, but he would almost certainly want to come. I didn’t know if it really was dangerous out there, but I didn’t want to risk him. So I crept into my home alone, stuffed a saddlebag with some water and bits of fruit for snacks, and made my way to the hole.
It wasn’t as large as I expected it to be, although a pony could definitely fit through. Looking closer, I could see that it was formed by the two sections of wall not lying straight against each other, like two playing cards. The triangular passageway seemed like some forbidden portal to me, but my heart was aching to explore the mysteries on the other side. I promised myself I’d be back in just an hour or so, but just in case I wasn’t I had left a note on my bed that I was spending the night at a friend’s house. That would definitely elicit punishment, but nowhere near as much as if anypony discovered I had gone outside the walls.
Gulping down a lungful of air, I crouched and edged through the hole. It felt strange at first; I was expecting some alien ground or a different colored sun or something, but it all felt the same. As I tugged my saddlebags through the pass, nearly ripping the straps in the process, I looked up.
“Wow,” I whispered to myself. From the outside the walls looked so different. They towered above, bolted together in some places and hanging loosely in others. From the outside they looked a lot less uniform than what I had expected. Still, they were at least a foot thick as I had discovered going through the hole. It was great protection, but from what?
I shook myself off, brushing stray bits of dust and dirt off of my coat. The first thing I noticed about the outside was that it seemed awfully… dead, for lack of a better word. The ground of Arbor was similarly dry and dusty in places, but at least there were places where green grass sprouted. Here, it seemed to be a vast canvas of grey. The only plant life here was the pale, dead patches of grass and the occasional gnarled tree trunk.
For a moment, I considered turning around and heading back in. That would be the end of it, and I could live the rest of my life peacefully at home. But my heart was crying out that there were so many more mysteries out there. Was Arbor alone? Were there any places like it?
Curiosity overrode fear and dragged me through my first steps into the outside.
I had walked for about a half hour now, never feeling as free before in my life. Although my brain knew otherwise, I felt as though the world was mine to walk in and explore. Arbor was a distant speck of grey behind me now, obscured by hills and other raised terrain. I made sure to drag my hooves through the dusty soil just in case I got lost so that I could follow them.
Ahead of me, a particularly tall piece of jagged rubble stood jutting out of the ground. Perhaps it was a wall at one point, destroyed by an unseen force. Rather than ponder the possibilities, I quickly began to scale the shard of concrete.
“Good thing I learned how to climb early,” I mused, recalling all my previous adventures climbing on top of Arbor’s rooftops. I didn’t lose my hoofing even once before I made it to the top.
At the summit of Mt. Rubble (A name deemed fit by yours truly), the world opened up like a storybook. The familiar grayish ground stretched for miles in every direction, but now I could see that it was far from empty. Ancient looking towns dotted the horizon, visibly crumbling even from this distance. The sky spanned endlessly around me. In Arbor, whenever you looked up the walls were always in the corners of your vision. Now the pale, colorless sky seemed sickeningly wide.
I dropped my head down and sighed, unable to do anything but smile. It felt like an anvil had been lifted off my back, one that I had never known was there. I was as free as a bird! And as long as no one finds out I can come here all I wanted! If I wasn’t standing on top of a dangerously tall cliff of broken concrete I would have danced in joy.
Just as I was pulling a bottle of water out of my bag, I spotted three, no, four black shapes in the distance. Normally I would have just shrugged it off as being a few of the trees that sprinkled the land, but these were moving. Moving slowly towards me.
I froze. Was it a search party from Arbor? It couldn’t have been, they weren’t coming from that direction. I could feel my skin tingle and adrenaline jolt through my veins. Thrusting the bottle back into my sack, I began to practically leap off of the rubble. One glance back revealed that they were now sprinting too. And they had wings.
Genuine fear was new to me. Sure, foalhood games and scary stories got my blood pumping when I was a filly, but now true dread welled in my belly like a balloon, making me feel sick. I regretted leaving Arbor, because now some winged monsters were pursuing me.
I could hear wingbeats getting closer. I was sprinting as fast as my legs could carry me, my saddlebags bouncing against my sides painfully. Where was I to run? I couldn’t bring them back to Arbor, what kind of pony would I be to lead monsters to my home? Maybe this is what the guards were protecting us from. I feared for my life as I darted into a small indentation in a hillside I saw. It was barely a cave, but maybe, just maybe it would save me. I pinned myself up against the wall of the mini-cave, the fine dirt cold against my trembling back.
I barely managed to keep my breathing down, feeling as though I was a few seconds from puking my lungs up. Every moment felt ten times as long. Dammit, why did I leave the walls? I’m going to die here and--
“Hello? Pony?” A male voice called out, just several feet away. I couldn’t help but squeak in terror. Oh great, I thought. I’m going to die because I made a wimpy sound.
A face began to peer into my pothole. It was… beaked. And feathery. And didn’t look much like a monster. It was a griffin! There was a family of griffins back home, and they were pretty friendly. Just like us ponies.
“Oh. There you are,” he said, a little bit surprised. He walked forward, revealing his entire form. He was a bit larger than me, his coat slightly dirty. A few scars were visible on his face, like tiny little ravines in his feathers. He beckoned with a claw to the sky, and almost immediately three other griffins came landing down.
“What do you want?” I managed to say. “P-please, don’t hurt me.”
The one who discovered me laughed. “Hurt you?” he asked, smirking. “I wasn’t planning on it. What’s a pony like you doing all the way out here?”
I stood still, hearing my own heart violently thump in my chest. My throat was closed in terror like a vice.
He looked concerned. “You all right? C’mon, we didn’t mean to scare you. You can come on out.” He held a claw out.
No point in sitting in this whole all day, I thought. His demeanor seemed kind enough. I highly doubted anything this polite was going to rip my guts out. I placed my hoof in his talon, his touch rough and abrasive against mine. Gently but firmly he tugged me out of my hiding spot.
“My name is… Jadeleaf,” I said, working up the courage. The other griffins didn’t say anything. In the group, there were two males and two females. All of them looked weathered but not awfully so.
“That’s a pretty name,” he said, his voice dripping with excessive kindness. “I’m Firebeak, that’s Razor, she’s Talon, and she’s Stonewing,” he said, pointing a claw to each as he introduced them. “We’re just travelers. Where are you from?”
“I’m from Arbor,” I said. He cocked an eyebrow.
“Arbor?”
“Yeah, it’s that town down that way,” I pointed with my hoof. “It’s in this valley sort of thing.”
Firebeak looked around at the other griffins, sharing an interested look. “Is that so?”
I nodded. I wondered if they were from a settlement like ours, but I was still a bit too shaky to ask.
“Well, how about this,” he said, stroking the feathers of his chin. “We’ll bring you back to Arbor tomorrow morning. It’s getting late out, and it’s not safe at night. We have a camp up north, maybe ten minutes away on foot,” he told me.
I was hesitant. He was right; the sky was turning the familiar pinkish-purple of twilight. If I trotted fast I could make it home before anypony noticed. But these griffins definitely had more experience than me with all this ‘outside’ business. In addition, since I was apparently so easy for this group to find, I doubted I’d be a difficult hunt for whatever prowled about under the curtain of night.
“Sure,” I said, figuring it would be better to return to Arbor late than never at all. “As soon as the sun’s up I want to go home though, is that okay?”
“Not a problem,” he grinned. I was still nervous. The others were dead silent, but their expressions had softened. One of the girls -- Talon, I believe -- was looking at me almost sad. I guess they did care about me. After catching my breath for a moment, we headed towards the camp. Following behind them, I noticed they were carrying weapons: knives, bows, and one of them even had a crossbow, a weapon I hadn’t seen before outside of my books. I hoped we wouldn’t have to use them tonight to protect ourselves.
The camp was more high-quality than I expected. It was a single house in the middle of nowhere, a good half of it collapsed. The other half consisted of two rooms: one was used as a storeroom and the other as the living area. To my surprise, there was a functioning fridge in the place. It didn’t look like it was permanent lodging though, but it was safe.
“There used to be these things called seasons,” Stonewing was telling us, ripping another chunk of meat off of her stick. It was now night, and the cold air had swept in. They lit a fire and began cooking a heaping mound of  assorted meats that they stored in the fridge. I crinkled my nose when they offered me some; didn’t they know ponies don’t eat that? The smell made me uncomfortable, but there were plenty of things that gave me that same feeling tonight. I didn’t completely trust these griffins, but I didn’t see a choice other than to stay with them.
“Yeah, apparently in one of them this cold white stuff fell out of the sky,” she continued. “And in another, it was the exact opposite! It was crazy hot they said!”
“Shut up and eat your food,” Razor growled, droplets of meat-juice dripping from his beak. I got the feeling that the two weren’t particularly fond of each other. “That’s all a bunch of hatchling-tales.”
“No it’s not!” Stonewing cried. “Ask anyone older than you, featherbrain.”
Firebeak was shaking his head and chortling, otherwise quietly enjoying his food. I was nibbling on a crisp, honey-sweet apple I brought from home. My belly wasn’t very accepting of much more than that.
I looked around the group. They were all fairly young from what I knew of griffin physiology. They looked like they had been through quite their share of adventures though. ‘Menacing’ would be the best word to describe the two arguing ones. If it wasn’t Firebeak that found me I’d probably have screamed. He was no prince himself, but the others were unsettling, to say the least. Judging an individual on their looks was shallow though, and by the way they had treated me I had no reason to doubt them.
There was one who had barely uttered a peep since the group found me. Talon was her name. Her plumes-- feather coat-- whatever a griffin’s head feathers are called were a faded steel color, not unlike that of Arbor’s walls. Her lion half was a slightly darker shade. If it wasn’t for her yellow talons and eyes, she’d be about as monochrome as a thing could be.
She caught me observing her and I quickly averted my gaze.
“All right, we’re gonna need rest for tomorrow. Time to hit the hay,” Firebeak commanded. I wondered why we would need rest for a simple short walk back, but I didn’t ask. After they blocked up the windows with wooden boards and rolled out sleeping mats (they were kind enough to give me the cleanest), the four beasts curled up and fell asleep with surprising speed.
I couldn’t stop thinking how bizarre it was that just a single night ago I was staring at my ceiling, in my own bed, in my own house. Now I was watching a pack of griffins doze off, trying to get my own sleep on this stiff bedding. I felt like a stranger to not only them but to the outside world as a whole. It was thrilling, but I was certainly looking forward to coming home. Even if I was walking into a world of punishment.
Sleep didn’t elude me for long, however, and I soon slipped into peaceful respite.

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                    Chapter 3: Beatdown                    
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Chapter 3: Beatdown
Chapter 3: Beatdown
I woke suddenly, something prodding at my belly.
“Get up,” a voice said. It took me a few moments to register that it was Firebeak’s. He was nudging me with his hind paw.
“H-huh, what?” I asked, dazed. Bright daylight invaded my vision, blinding me with white.
“We let you sleep an extra hour, sheesh,” he complained, ruby red eyes glaring disapprovingly at me. It sure didn’t feel like I had gotten an extra hour. Last night must have taken more of a toll on me than I expected. I slowly got onto my hooves, pushing myself up from my mat.
“All right, all right,” I moaned. Glancing around the camp, I saw that the others were already up. All of them, Firebeak included, had thick, brown coverings on their torsos, what I could assume to be leather.
“Why the shirt things?” I asked. “It’s not cold out.”
They exchanged a wary glance, but Firebeak quickly spoke up. “Safety, of course. These things are thick enough to block a chomp or two by some animal out there.”
Reasonable enough. “Can I have one then?”
“You, uh, won’t be needing one. We’ll protect you.” The griffin’s tone of voice had grown almost worried. It made me uneasy, but this pack was well armed. I had no doubts that would be unable to fend off whatever stood in their way.
The heat of the day was a welcome change from the cold breath of night. I stretched out, the stiffness in my muscles from my rough sleep burning away. My new companions looked well rested, standing tall and at attention. Firebeak and Talon’s charcoal-gray coats stood out harshly in the midmorning sunlight. The other male one, Razor, looked like a poorly-made puppet with how many scars tore through his normal coloration. Stonewing was somewhere on top of the camp, watching over the landscape.
“Grab your bags, pony, we’re heading to Arbor,” Firebeak commanded. I have a name you know, a voice in my head said. Maybe it would be better if they forgot. I certainly didn’t intend on sticking around with these guys any longer than I had to, even if they were fairly amicable on our first meeting.
I hoisted my saddlebacks over my back, brushing off the dust and pebbles. The group had rejoined in front of the camp by then. As I traversed the rubble and headed towards them, they started their trip to Arbor, not even waiting for me to catch up. I trotted a bit faster, bottles jingling in my bags.
“So, this town,” the leader said. “Are they going to be hostile towards us?”
To be entirely honest, I had no idea. In my life at Arbor up to that point, not a single visitor came to us. If they had, I certainly wasn’t aware. Maybe the guards took care of it, I thought with a shudder, remembering their steel-tipped arrows and sturdy bows that always captured my attention as a filly.
“I doubt it,” I said after a pause. “As long as you don’t wander in there all threatening. I’m sure you could do a good job of that,” I giggled. Firebeak’s face grew grim. Maybe that wasn’t the best joke to say.
We walked in relative silence under the radiant sun. Every now and then the group asked me to confirm that we were going in the right direction. Thankfully, my hoofprints were still faintly visible from last night, so we followed the trail with ease. As they were fairly larger than me, I found that I had to keep my pace quick to not fall behind.
Squinting at the horizon, I tried to spot some other sign of life out in the world. Even with the daylight aiding me, there still appeared to be nothing. The sensation of freedom I felt yesterday was now growing weak. Now, I just felt small and alone among these strangers. I wanted to be home.
“Hey, is that it up there?” Firebeak pointed a claw to a dark mass in the distance. It looked a lot smaller from out here. Plus, it almost blended in with the gray-brownness of the dead land around it. No wonder there weren’t a lot of visitors.
I nodded. As if on cue, they leapt forwards and sprinted, picking up speed.
“Wait!” I cried out, breaking into a dash. I saw their wings extend and flap once, twice, and then they had taken to the air. “I can’t fly!”
They flew low and lazily, like bumblebees scoping out a garden. Even at that speed they were hopelessly faster than my equine legs. Darting over unearthed boulders and fallen, petrified tree limbs, I called out again. Talon looked back but continued flying.
By the time I arrived at the front gates, my legs were on fire. A minute ago I had seen then swoop into the city. The front gate was wide open. As I bolted towards it, something stopped me dead in my tracks. Directly to my left, one of the guards remained motionless on the ground, a stream of red flowing from his lips.
I was instantly frozen. Horror flowed into my veins, the same awful nausea that I felt when I thought I was going to die yesterday. Walking over to get a closer look, I could see that he was out cold. His jawline very clearly didn’t line up in one place. Blood trickled out of the wound there, as well as draining from his lips. I wanted to scream. I was the one who led the griffins here. IT might as well have been me who smashed his jaw like that.
A shriek brought my attention to the inner town. I dropped my saddlebags where I stood and rushed in, another horrific sight filling my vision. One of the griffins (I couldn’t tell which- at this point they were all a blur of feathers and darkness) pinned Rosethorn down while two others rampaged through the central garden. I could see their claws covered in dirt as they ripped up plants indiscriminately.
They were robbing Arbor. My home. And not of petty things; they were destroying our food source.
“HEY!” I screamed, my voice cracking uneasily. The griffin holding Rosethorn down looked up at me, snarling. “What the hay are you doing?!” I called out.
“Take a wild guess,” he said, amused. It was Firebeak. His eyes burned with a fierceness I hadn’t seen in them before. He looked more animal than a sentient being at this point. One claw was clasped over Rosethorn’s throat. She was crying, looking at me with terror.
As much as I hate to admit it now, I didn’t stop it. No heroic instinct kicked in. No action-packed fight took place where I kicked his beak in like he deserved. I just stood there, trembling, and asked him why.
“Why? Because you practically gave this to us, you clueless bitch!” He gestured to the town around us, cries of terror audible from nearby buildings. “And there’s not a single other guard in sight! We’re completely--”
A faint whizz sounded out, and almost immediately Firebeak screamed. When he let go of Rosethorn and bent down in pain, I saw why. A long arrow shaft stuck out of his wing.
I never saw who fired it. Rosethorn darted away into a building, gasping. Firebeak groaned, snapping the arrow free from the arrowhead and tossing the shaft aside. He turned behind him and called out that he was wounded, grasping the rapidly-darkening base of his wing. Once again, I just stood there, dumbfounded.
“We need to go, now! Pack it up!” he ordered. His minions emerged. Talon and Stonewing came out of the garden, bags full of our finest seeds and harvested fruits. Razor stepped out of an alleyway, an overstuffed potato sack filled with what I can only imagine were the possessions of Arbor’s residents. He wore a more sadistic grin than the rest.
“Move out!” cried the leader, bounding for the gate. The bags were far too heavy to fly with. Catch them, the hero in me begged. Though fear and panic had locked my joints up until now, I took off with blistering speed towards them.
Despite the newfound weights on their backs, they still navigated the terrain like shadows crept over every surface. Ever so steadily they were gaining ground on me. I didn’t know if they knew I was following them or not, but that didn’t matter. I was getting back what was ours if it was the last thing I did.
It hadn’t been long before the group of robbers disappeared into a grotto in a mountainside near Arbor. Whatever pain was left from today’s spriting was turned into pure, firey rage at what they had done. They tricked me! Abused my trust! And used it to hurt those I loved! I wasn’t going to have a shred of mercy when I went in there.
Carefully, I stepped along the rocky wall, making sure not to lose my stability. Though my ears still rang with the shrieking of the townsfolk and my own pounding heartbeat, I could hear gruff voices talking in the cave. Stonewing, Razor, Talon, and that flankhole Firebeak. If I could just run in there and put my hoof through his face…
“We actually did it,” one of them was saying. “We’re eating like kings! Sell that crap you got at the next town we find, Razor. Maybe we can afford a home to stay at.”
They had not a single regard for us, their victims. Frothing with rage, I stepped into the stone cavern. They all jumped backwards in surprise.
“Are you alone?” was the first question Firebeak asked. I didn’t answer as I stepped closer. “I asked you a question, you bitch.”
“Give our stuff back,” I growled. Firebeak smiled at me, a grin dripping with sick amusement at my anger. “And my name is Jadeleaf, by the way. Better remember it because you’re going to have to avoid it for the rest of your life.”
The griffins broke into a howling of laughter. I have to admit, maybe that was a bit over the top. But at the moment, not being taken seriously was making my rage boil over, like a river of hot magma. I sunk my teeth into one of the bags they had used to carry our stuff out and started dragging it to the cave entrance.
A hard talon-fist swung into my side, sending me toppling over. I groaned, dropping the bag from my mouth. Razor stood over me.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked, his eyes wide with psychotic interest in my squirming form. His punch hurt like Tartarus, dull pain radiating through my side.
“I’m go--” another punch directly in my snout. I screamed, agony shooting into me. Tears were welling up in my eyes. I tried to breathe in through my nose, but all I managed was snorting in a thick mess of mucus and blood.
“You’re not going anywhere, bitch,” Firebeak grunted. He lifted up a muscular hind leg and brought it down on my throbbing side. I shrieked again, throwing my head back. He was leaning with his full weight into my ribcage; it felt like I was going to pop.
Stonewing ran in and gave me another kick to the face, causing my blood to spray across the stones in sticky strands. My world was spinning from that kick, but Firebeak payed no mind as he stomped on my chest again. I heard- and felt- a sickening pop, followed by a hurricane of fiery agony. As I inflated my lungs to scream again, the most horrific pain of my life washed over me. I choked out blood (from my lung or from my nose, I had no idea) and let out an primal moan.
“That’s right!” Razor screeched, taking pleasure in torturing me. He brought a claw down on my belly, the added pain from that only worsening my torment. Warm liquid trickled down my stomach.
The beating became a blur of motion, noise, impacts, but most of all pain. I didn’t know there were so many kinds: hot and searing, unbearable aching, the agony of your bones not fitting together correctly, the discomfort of swallowing and choking on your own blood and vomit. I couldn’t think about my impending death. My mind was completely consumed in an unrelenting world of misery. By far though, the greatest pain was the subconscious shame of knowing that I had failed to protect those I love. The horrific feeling of knowing that, by extension, I had robbed my own home.
I don’t know how long it lasted. I have no idea how broken I was at the end of it. My final memory of that horrific event was a griffin paw rushing towards my head.
Then, darkness.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                     Chapter 4: Exile                      
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Chapter 4: Exile
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.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                      Chapter 5: Hunt                      
//-------------------------------------------------------//
Chapter 5: Hunt
“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.