Distant Lands

1 Fairytale lands!

He sat there not knowing what to do but then he remembered. He suddenly regained his conscious. Yes. His reelection of events passed came flooding back, but with these a sense of urgency overtook him. He needed to move, but he couldn't see. He was covered from head to toe with mud and he couldn't see through his gasmask. His vision was completely obscured.  He fumbled in his pocket for the cloth; that small piece silk that meant so much to him. Cloth or no cloth, life or death, he had to find it. He grew desperate. He had checked all his pockets, which meant it was, yes, in his rucksack! He pulled it out from under his back and onto his chest. This by all means, wasn't an easy task. He moaned as he pulled it out from under him. His entire Wight was resting on that pack, but he was able to rip it out. It took a couple of seconds for the pain to register, but when it did it was nearly paralyzing. He recovered; it was just a short burst of agony, thankfully. The fall had fucked him up far more than he thought. He might have had snapped a couple vertebra, and he was sure he had fractured a rib or two.  He fumbled in his pack, and retrieved the cloth from the bottom and bringing it up to his mask; he began frantically wiping the glass. It was slow going, the mud he was covered in was very hard to wipe away. He placed the cloth under the exhalation vent on the bottom part of his mask to moisten it. Hopefully a damp cloth would clean better than a dry one. It took him a couple minutes but he finally cleaned his gas mask’s lenses. He looked around, now able to see. He gasped at his surroundings. It wasn't what he was expecting, not at all.

He sat up, his ribs felt like they were on fire. He wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but this place was too strange. It was too good to be true. It was like a fairy tale. He was in the middle of a mystical forest, the moonlight shining through the lush treetops, huge mountains towered in the distance. The moonlight was a crystal blue. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. And the stars! It was simply amazing. He gazed upon scene before him, unable to move. He was star struck; however he eventually came to his senses. He had no idea what he should do, no plan, no course of action, but he couldn't just stay there. He needed help. He went to stand up but he only got about halfway. He came crashing back in agony, slumping over against the hard earth. Suddenly he felt a warm liquid running down his left leg and he was reminded that he had been bleeding uncontrollably. This was bad. Realizing there was no longer an immediate threat, he could now turn his full attention to himself. He removed his belt and tired it around his leg, just before the gash and pulled it tight. It hurt like hell, but it had to be done. That helped a little but if he didn't get help soon he would really be in trouble. He ripped parts of his undershirt off and tied them around the wound. He needed to find help; if he stayed here he would die. He thought about trying to walk again, but instead settled on crawling. That would be easier, less painful.

He crawled through the underbrush of the forest, his kneecaps and hands became soaked from dew on the grasses. It didn't take long for him to realize how thirsty he was. He retrieved his canteen, inserted the drinking straw into his gasmask and sucked, but only air came through. He was out of water.

“Wait!” He thought aloud. “This isn’t St. Petersburg!” He ripped his gasmask off, and cautiously at first, he took a breath. After confirming the air was fine he sucked in the sweet air as fast as he could. He took huge, deep breaths, and emptied his lungs all the way. Oh it was so nice, so fresh. It was a welcome change; he had been breathing stale air from that gasmask for almost 5 days straight. It felt amazing. He hid his mask and his canteen away in his pack where they were safe.

The thoughts of water and thirst came back to him though. His throat was extremely dry and his tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth. He became frustrated; he looked around trying to find a source of water. He saw a small dip in the landscape in the distance. There must be water there. He set out, painfully crawling towards it. Along the way he started licking the dew off the grasses, even breaking twigs off trees and sucking on them, anything for a little bit of water.

Then he heard it, just for a second. Running water! He crawled towards it, and after about a half-hour of slow, painful crawling, he came across a small stream. He stared at the trickling water. The thought of catching water borne illness did occur to him, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. He bent down towards it and started to lap up the cool water. It tasted amazing. He took huge gulps of it, he couldn't get enough. He had to stop periodically because it was too cold. After a while he decided he would finish up, and he produced his canteen, filled it, and placed it back in his pack. Cupping water in his hands he attempted to clean some of his wounds. He redressed some of them, but it really didn't help much. Blood was still steadily flowing from him. He decided to follow the flow of the creek, it had to lead somewhere. But before he went he sat up against the stream bank. He looked out, past the forest, at the towering mountains. He could see now, a castle lit up against the moon. It hung on the side of a towering mountain.

“Hah, this really is a fairytale” He commented to himself. It was too far of a crawl, he would never make it there. He was disappointed but relieved. There were people here! If there were people, there was also life! He had to make his way there. But how? It was miles away, up there in the mountains. He decided he would follow the stream; see where it would take him. It had to take him somewhere right?

He started to crawl again. There was no sense in waiting there, he would just bleed out. He started to mumble to himself. He sang old songs to pass the time. He must've sounded crazy, but it was the least he could do to distract himself from the grievances that had taken place in the last week. Suddenly something moved in the dark of the shadows. Just off to his left, this time he swore he heard something; twigs snapping. He turned his head upward and directed his gaze into the dark. He could see fine in the moonlight, but not in the shadows. He peered into the pitch black, eager to see what was there.

“Hello?” he said softly. He didn’t know why he spoke, but he felt compelled to. Then it moved from the shadow towards him. He nearly freaked out! He wished he had his gun, but he had lost it long ago. He reached for his combat knife, but he stopped. Something about the way it moved told him it wasn't hostile. It moved slowly, but confidently. It stood in the moonlight. Its form was strange to him, and it fur was a dark blue color. Was he hallucinating again? He had lost a lot of blood, he was probably dehydrated, on the verge of exhaustion. It was a very real possibility. He crouched lower, away from it, and it seemed to tower over him. He still had a grip on his knife, ready to summon it if need be. Then it spoke to him.

“You are not of this world, are you stranger?” She said quietly. He now knew it was female, whatever it was, and that it spoke his language perfectly. She smiled at him, although he couldn't see the gesture in the dark, he could feel it. She meant no harm to him. “I mean no harm. I am Luna, princess of the night. What shall I call thy?” She asked. He relaxed, and put his hands back onto the ground to rest, he wouldn’t need his knife anymore.

“Dmitry. My name is Dmitry. Please, I need help. I'm in a lot of trouble here!” He said in reply. Hopping she was willing to help. His voice was shaky.

“Oh! Of course! What’s wrong?” She said worried. She came close to him. He could see her in more detail now. She resembled a pony! She had wings, and a horn. She looked amazing. He sat down, his legs out in front of him. He began pulling his pants back to reveal his wounds but he struggled to keep conscious. His strength was dwindling, and soon he would lose it. He began to fall backward. She gasped slightly. She stretched one of her hoofs out to support him.

“Please” He coughed. “Please, you gotta help me” He was shaking now. He looked her in the eyes. She could see he was desperate. He was on his last legs and if she didn’t do something that would be the end of it.

“I can help! I’m here to help!” She proclaimed. Her horn started to glow and soon his wounds were surrounded by what he assumed to be magic. It tingled at first, but then it gave way to an immense pain. It was shocking. Before he could protest he passed out.

Little did he know, he was in the Everfree forest. He was in Equestria, a Fairytale land.