Hunted

by Edanite Phoenix

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Anthro
Length: 9228

Lost, and alone, a human steps further into a forest seemingly void of life.

A human finds herself in a strange forest with naught but the clothes on her back and the pistol on her hip. Far from what she knows, unsure and lost she steps further into the forest seemingly void of life.

(Due warning, an experimental story; HiE during a zombie apocalypse.
Heavily influenced by the Last of Us and inspired by The Joke On Us)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-21 02:01:36 UTC

Prologue: Survival

The clearing of the thick forest was shrouded in shadows. Light beamed through the gaps in the leaves, enough to illuminated the forest floor.

Standing in the clearing were two figures. A tall female human with short brown hair and tan skin covered by a muddy and bloody sleeveless t-shirt, and combat pants, a length of rope coiled over her right shoulder and around her left hip, an empty holster adorned her right. The skin not covered revealed violent bruises of various shapes and colours, blood seeped from numerous cuts across her arms and face. Her chest heaved for breath as she held a smoking 9.mm pistol towards the second figure.

An anthropomorphic pony, its coats colour was hidden beneath dirt, blood, and other things she couldn't, or didn't care to recognise. Large tears where flesh was ripped from its body littered its form yet no blood flowed from the wounds.

Only the sound of her heavy breath and the beat of her heart came to her, the forest long since abandoned. Then it moved. The creatures once still chest lifted as it pulled air into its lungs. The raspy breath unnerved her. Then it roared. A horribly, forced, hoarse shout left it as it began to quickly cover the distance to her.

She gave a shout in defiance, rage, and challenge as it neared her. With a squeeze of the trigger she wondered where it all went wrong.

Four days prior, she awoken to see the dense canopy of the forest above her.

Fear gripped her as she rose into a crouch, she knew she did not lay down in a forest last night. Swiftly she patted her body, no injuries, her gun remained on her hip, clothes were properly on. She slipped her hand down the front of her pants, a moment later she nodded, a sigh of relief left her.

She slowly stood up as she took in her surroundings. Little light shined through the leaves but it was enough to see around her. With a deep breath she steeled herself before she started to walk.

A long time passed in her trek through the seemingly unchanging forest. Only the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath her boots reached her, it was unsettling. No animals, no insect, just herself and the wind rustling the leaves above.

Her hand lifted from her side, it hovered over the holster on her hip as she subconsciously leaned forward as the forest began to darken. Soon she noticed something unusual in the distance, unable to see far in the dying light, she moved quietly through the trees and stopped at the edge of a wide clearing. There stood a small, two story cabin.

She looked up and noticed the darkening sky. Not willing to take any chances in the forest at night she upholstered her pistol and ran in a crouch towards the building. She peered through the window to see no signs of life, all lights were off. She moved to the door and tried the handle, it opened without any resistance. She gave the door a knock with her free hand.

“Hello?” She called. “I'm lost and in need of shelter, is anyone here?”

Silence greeted her, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her quietly. Slowly she travelled through the house in search of its owner, the slight tap of her boots and the creak of the floor boards, magnified by the unnaturally silence raised her heart rate.

With each empty room she sighed internally until she stood in front of a door barely held up by the damaged hinges.

Inhaling deeply she calmed herself with a long exhale. Readying her pistol she tapped the door open, the groan of the hinges made her flinch. Stepping into the room quickly she staggered at the sudden smell. The unmistakable scent of aged blood and rotted flesh filled her lungs. Steadying herself she took in the scene; broken furniture and dark stains smeared on the walls, roof, centred around the blood caked wreck of what once was a bed.

Stepping into the hall she pulled the door closed. She quickly did another sweep of the house to make sure it was empty but found no sign of anything having lived there in weeks.

Relaxing slightly she holstered her gun and began to push couch across the floor to block the frond door. She then entered the kitchen and shoved a tall standing cabinet to half block the back door.

When ready she searched for a light switch but found nothing. Annoyed she began to search the rest of the kitchen and discovered an old oil lantern. Taking a lighter from her pocket she lit the lantern. Taking care not to spill the oil nor drop the lantern, she began to search the house for any useful items.

Time passed and she found herself in front of the damaged door once more. With a shake of her head she turned away from it and ventured downstairs and to the kitchen.

There she added her new finds to what little she could gather on the table. Two forks and a butter knife, three cans of beans, two canned peaches, a canned ham, and a can opener. Three bottles of water, a length of rope, a canteen and a hip flask. A backpack with two blank journals and several small travel jars of ink, quills, and a bag of fine powder joined them.

With a small smile she packed her haul into the backpack. When done she slipped it over her shoulder, grabbed the lantern and went to the knife block on the counter. Taking a sharp kitchen knife she made her way upstairs.

Entering one of the spare bedrooms she put the lantern down on a night stand then stripped a bed of its sheets. She then pushed the wardrobe to block the door. Opening the wardrobe she found a thin, one person quilt. Rolling it up she put it beside the open bag.

With a sigh she took out one of the journals, a jar and a quill.

'As good a time to learn as any.' She thought as she stared at the feather.

Opening the journal she began to record her day.

Many hours pass as she wrote painstakingly slow so not to fill the pages with splotches and smears. When she finally finished she sat up straight and stretched her sore back. Standing upright she left the pages open to dry. Packing away the rest of her stuff she used a quilt cover to clean the quill as best as she could before resting it between the pages of the journal.

Turning towards the bed her eyes widened as she her head snapped to the window. Uncertainty filled her as she reached for the lantern and turned it off. She stood in darkness waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Soon she found her range increase until she made out the shape of a person at the edge of the trees.

Time passed and the figure went unmoved, soon she began to doubt it was even a person, just a trick of her tired mind. With a yawn she took the knife with her to bed. Slipping the arm holding the blade beneath the pillow as she lay down, she pondered once more about her situation.

She went to bed in her home, crashed after a rough day. Then wakes up, untouched, in a forest. The nearest she knew of was hundreds of miles away. Now she's stealing what she can and sleeping in a room across from a murder scene. The day felt surreal, she hoped that it was just a vivid dream and soon she'll wake up and forget it ever happened.

With those thoughts she slipped into a light sleep.

A loud bang brought her from her sleep with a start, the once hidden knife held out before her. Holding her breath she listened as several heavy clops came from the staircase.  They sounded much too heavy and far between to be a horse. Then a throaty gurgle she only ever heard once before echoed up the hallways.

Her eyes wide with adrenaline pumping through her veins she quickly got up, slipped the knife and the journal into the bag, zipped it up then she lay the rolled quilt on top and brought the cover flap of the bag over to hold it in place as she clipped the clasp close.

Throwing the bag over her shoulders she jumped as something large struck the door. Not taking any chances she grabbed her lighter from her pocket and lit the lantern. Opening the window she turned and threw it at the door. The glass shattered, spilling burning oil across the wardrobe.

Climbing out the window she let herself fall to the ground, rolling to reduce impact. She stood up and bolted for tree line.

She continued to run without rest until she felt she was far enough away. Leaning against a tree she gave herself time to steady her breath before climbing a tree to get her bearings. Breaking the canopies cover she noted that the sun had started to rise, casting a shadow over the nearby mountains. Looking behind her she noticed the thick dark smoke of the burning cabin roughly three miles back. Convinced she was okay she climbed back down to the forest floor and continued to walk away from the fire.

Not long after she began she heard the sounds of rapid footfall. Looking behind her she saw the silhouette of a large person charge through the trees at her, it released a gurgle like roar forcing her instincts to take over.

Pulling her pistol free she fired round after round into the oncoming threat. As the gun hopped with each bang, a bullet entered the persons body yet went ignored. She kept firing until the tell tale click of an empty mag echoed to her ears, the last bullet knocked the creature to the ground yet it still flailed in rage after it rolled into a tree with a sickening crunch.

Fear and self preservation forced her to turn and run for her life. As she ran she heard the creatures scream and what sounded like the pounding of hooves as the thing charged after her. Not wanting to look back she concentrated on out manoeuvring the thing. Taking every chance to slip through dense groups of trees or change directions, every so often she'd hear it collide with something but each time it would soon be right behind her once more.

Taking a sudden turn she was shocked to feel the force of wind as the creature barrelled past her, missing her by inches as it rammed into a tree with enough forced to put it on the ground. With renewed vigour that pushed her to ignore the burning pains in her muscles, she bolted. She continued to run I blind desperation, narrowly avoiding trees until her shoulder clipped one. She briefly lost control and struck another tree that turned her around.

She hit the ground and entered a roll that brought her over a muddy cliff edge. Her attempts to grab the cliff failed as her hands slid through the wet mud, but the hard stones and few jagged rocks that lay beneath the dirt bruised and tore at her skin.

Soon her decent ended with a thump as she landed face down, unconscious.

A wet thump mixed with a few cracks brought her back to reality. Looking up she nearly broke down in a fit of tears as she saw the mangled creature nearby, human in shape but bore so many horse like features, it's lifeless eyes stared back at her yet its mouth opened and that same gurgled moan echoed towards her.

Lifting herself to unsteady feet she reached for her gun only to find the holster empty. Panicking she searched the areas until she found it near the trees away from the cliff. Lifting the weapon she slid the magazine from it, placing it in one of her many pockets she then slipped another filled mag from a different pocket.

The sounds of snapping bones forced her to turn towards the creature. She watched is growing horror and desperation as it stood up on a twisted leg, the crunching of bones reached her as it began to give chase once more but far slower then before.

Turning she slid the mag into the gun and began to slowly escape. As her desire to flee grew her second wind kicked in and she began to run with abandon once more, adrenalin sparing her from the pain that coursed through her.

She ran until night fall, there she climbed a tree and settled on to a sturdy branch. Taking the back pack off she then put it on backwards. She opened the bag and splayed the blanket over her legs then took the rope and tied herself to the tree. She then began to check her body for any injuries.

Satisfied that the cuts and bruises were the worst of it she searched her bag for water, noting that the ink bottles hadn't burst. Drinking her fill she then opened a can of peaches, eating the contents she poured the water from the can and put it back into her bag. Taking out the canteen and hip flask, she began to fill them with the remaining two bottles. When finished she returned the empty bottles and the filled canteen to the bag then slipped the hip flask into one of her empty pockets.

She then took the ends of her pants and tucked them into her boots before she pulled the quilt over her shoulders. Content she was safe for now and happy to have food in her system, she relaxed as best she could and try to sleep.

It had been days since she fell asleep in the tree. Her body was a wreck the following morning but she recovered her strength well though cuts and bruises grew worse as she had many close calls with whatever was hunting her. Her spirits fell however, when she saw two more of the creatures that didn't look anything like the first two, hunting her.

It was night fall she could hear them chase her through the forest, her fear and desperation no longer having any hold on her, she had grown use to her circumstance as the days that past. Only her anger and desire to live pushed her forward.

She limped into a clearing and saw moonlight shine through the canopy like sunlight. It seemed insulting, such tranquillity in a dead forest that wanted her life, it gave her pause. She was trapped, she knew it, the things behind her were closing in, the cramp in her leg made running impossible. She felt as though death had its hand on her shoulder. And it infuriated her.

Turning on the spot she took the pistol from her side and pulled the barrel. As the creatures ran into the clearing straight for her, her features twisted into a disgusted sneer. Aiming, she fired round after round into the two creatures, as a bullet found purchase in the head of one she was quick to see it hit the ground with a heavy smack, turning the gun on the other she put it down with a shot to the head.

She stared in silence at their still forms, fearing they would simply stand up and maul her to death. Then she heard it, the crunch of leaves.

She turned to see the very creature that began the hunt, the same one that chased her off the cliff, it stared at her as she raised her smoking gun at the beast. A question as to whether or not there were any bullets left in it entered her mind but there was no time to check, death wanted to play a sick game and she had no choice.

The creature roared as it lunged towards her, clearing the distance swiftly. With a shout of defiance her memories of the last few days played in her mind as she squeezed the trigger.

The bang shook her form like it did the day she first fired a gun, the creature fell past her, rolling into a heap. A hole in its forehead, a larger one at the back.

She stood in silence, the three creatures dead at her feet. She turned and left then to rot.

She walked, undisturbed in near complete silence. Stepping out into sunlight she covered her eyes and took time to adjust. Opening them she found herself out of the forest, staring at the open countryside. She could see a village in the distance, a large orchard and farm stood proud next to it.

Looking up she saw something that crushed what little spirit she had left, she knew where she was. A world not her own, a world where mystical creatures called home, a fairy tail told by her grandparents in better times. But the fairy tails never spoke of the creatures she fought as monster.

She stared at the castle mounted on the side of a mountain.

“I'm in Equestria...”

Chapter I: Lost and found

Three days had past since she first left the forest, each day she lay atop a hill that overlooked the town as she carefully watched the little activity she could see. It was mostly quiet for the first day, sometimes a pony would wander down the street but vanish soon after.

It was on the second that she learned just had far gone the world was. A pony, short, possibly a young teen. Was running for its life, another chased after it, gaining fast. She watched as the latter caught the first and a struggle broke out.

The chaser managed to get its head down on the runaways shoulder when the faint sounds of a scream traveled up the countryside. The runaway shoved the other aside, grabbed what appeared to be a rock and struck the chaser repeatedly against the skull. Soon the chaser stopped moving and the runaway took off towards an open door clutching her shoulder.

Soon after a large group appeared on the streets and wandered for the entirety of the day. Eventually they gradually vanished one after the other, she noticed a few stayed, standing upright and swaying, but others entered buildings.

On the third day the streets were clear once again. As the sun fell behind the mountains and the moon rose up, so did the human. Walking back behind the tree line of the forest that would have been her grave, she climbed a tree and did as she had done since her second night after she entered the new world, she tied herself to the trunk and tried to drift to sleep.

The image of the pony came to mind, purple fur, teal mane, wore a basic yellow t-shirt and pink shorts. A very colourful combination in her opinion.

She then thought of the others from her own experience and what she saw. Ponies of varied colours and species that hunted recklessly yet ignored each other as though they didn't exist unless they were after the same prey.

Some form of communication must exist between the violent ones but she has yet to see any signs. Her thoughts drifted back to the runaway, with a sigh her conscious finally got the better of her. She untied herself and climbed down from the tree.  She placed down her bag and checked her supplies. Two cans of beans and half a canteen of water.

She checked her pockets and noted that the hip flask was still full, her two empty 9mm mags rest in another pocket, knowing her third and final mag sat in the gun. Her lighter was the only thing left. Opening her journal she updated it with her days experiences, sprayed some of the fine powder over the pages to dry the ink, waited a moment then packed away the journal and rope. Rolling up the quilt she folded it over itself and tucked it into the more open bag. No longer fearing her hunters she was able to discard the empty items, clearing space.

With everything put away she threw the bag over her shoulders. Silently she left the forest in a crouch and swiftly descended the hill towards town, taking note of the building the runaway had entered.

Standing outside one of the city roads she braced herself as she entered the town. Nothing was worth mentioning, it seemed like any other small town. Businesses and homes placed haphazardly with no real consideration. Though she took note of a street seemingly dedicated to small stalls. Possibly a farmers market based on the rotten fruit and vegetables. Though she found some rather interesting looking stores, one being a large edible looking building.

Eventually she found the building she was looking for, a large store called Barnyard Bargains, she raised a brow to that. Entering through the shattered door, the glass crunched beneath her boots, she paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the shadows before entering the rest of the way.

She paused again as she heard the faint sound of sobbing. Slipping further into the store she stopped half way down an isle. Looking to her left she saw chopping axe's for sale. A grin spread across her lips as she took one from the rack and proceeded down the isle towards the quiet cries.

Reaching the end of the isle she peered around the edge and saw the pony she was looking for crouched down with her back turned. Small, possibly female by the tone of the voice, about a foot shorter then herself. Then she saw the wound. It was red and puffy, turned purple around the torn flesh with yellow pus seeping out. A definite infection.

“Miss?” she called, the mare stopped her sobbing. “Miss, can you hear me?”

The mare stood up slowly as she turned to the human. Her black bagged lids, fur soaked face held the same emotionless eyes as the creatures she put down in that accursed forest. The mare gave a shout as she charged.

Without thinking she reacted, the axe raised over her head before she brought it down on the thing in front of her, the skull split open with a spray of blood, ending its life instantly.

Her mind was ablaze, the gears whirled fast to understand. By the time the mare fell to a heap in the ground, the axe stuck where it struck, she knew the chaser was diseased somehow and passed the infection to the mare, most likely through the bite, 'like rabies?' She thought. Her memories of her first encounter and the condition the creatures body was in before she killed it came to mind. 'Maybe something worse.'

A rattle in a nearby isle invoked the memory of the the attack earlier in the day. Now she cursed her stupidity.

Moving as fast and as quiet as she can she made her way up the isle, stopping long enough to claim another axe. Upon reaching the front of the isle she slipped behind the shelf and looked back down the way.

She noticed a pony appear near the corpse, it seemed uninterested in it yet continued to look about. Soon a second, then a third appeared. Eventually they wandered off. With the coast clear she made her escape, the crunch of glass was too low to attract attention.

Moving further down the street she noted that some of the ponies, the infected, were out and about. She stopped in the shadows of a building to watch them from a distance. They showed little intelligence for a sentient race, wandering about aimlessly. Every little thing making them turn. Sometimes towards each other. When this occurs they seem to give a hoarse shout at one another. The first signs of communication she saw as of yet.

In most cases they wondered in silence but some could be heard crying while others mumbled incoherently. 'A form of lure to catch prey?'

With a sigh she took the first opportunity to move on. She thought it would be easier to move at nights but more were on the street then she expected. Still not near enough to hinder her but enough to slow down her progression.

Eventually she arrived at a store she passed earlier. Sneaking through the open door she saw the mess scattered around. She picked up a bottle, turned and threw it out the door before she hid behind the counter.

The cling of the unbroken bottle rang loud. Several rustles could be heard near her followed by the sound of hooves as three infected ran out onto the street. Moving forward she closed the store door and moved back behind the counter to watch. The three made their way back to the store only to see the closed door. Two turned and wandered off elsewhere, the third pushed open the door and walked towards the back of the store, the sounds of various objects knocked aside as it moved barely reached her ears.

Moving around the counter she followed the infected until she was close behind it. Silently she swung the axe with murderous intent, the blade split the skull with less blood spray then her last kill, and the body fell with a thump.

Waiting, unmoved for many moments she listened for a response. When nothing came she took out her bag, removed the quilt and began to stock up on items she could eat, mostly canned food as she didn't know the date.

With the bag refilled and a new pot and spoon to add to her utensils she packed up and prepared to leave. As she turned to go she felt a pull, she paused as her instincts told her to check further in. Not one to ignore what has kept her alive thus far, she ventured into the staff area of the shop. As she walked deeper in she stopped, took two steps back and turned to her left.

In front of her stood a walk-in freezer door. Gripping the handle she opened it and found herself staring at a shivering pony child.

She sighed as she found what her instincts called for, taking a tub of ice cream from the nearby shelf she turned back to regard the child. Unconscious but alive. Another sigh escaped her as her conscious once again got the better of her.

Taking the quilt from her bag she wrapped the child up, packed away the ice cream and threw the child over her shoulder. Taking the axe once more she closed the freezer door and left the building.

It was a quiet and uneventful trip back to the forest, worried it wasn't warm enough she pushed deeper into the trees then she did since she first left. Confident that she was far enough in she set down the child carefully. Unpacking some food, she then wandered away from the new camp site, making sure it was always in eye shot, she searched for firewood.

Many moments later she was back with the child and standing in front of a small pile of wood, a circle of stones, and a handful of dried leaves. Taking the wood and stacking them in twos inside the stone circle, each new layer crossing over the two under it. Shoving the leaves down the center of the miniature funeral pyre, she lit it with her lighter.

With some encouragement the fire took off, the sounds of a gentle flame and the smell of burning wood quickly greeted them. Happy in success she took the pot and rested it on top of the pyre. Opening a tin of beans she poured the contents into the pot and used a knife to stir it occasionally. She then retrieved her new spoon and ice cream.

The child stared at the strange fur-less creature that ate the tub of ice cream with a stupid grin. She watched it since she woke up to find herself out of the freezer, wrapped in a blanket of sorts with the thing building a fire. Every so often it would stir the pot full of beans.

It eventually took out a fork and scooped up a small number of beans and ate them. It seemed to evaluate its cooking before giving a small smile. One that made her think of her mother before the world fell apart.

She returned to reality as the pot was placed before her, the forks handle sticking out over the rim.

“Eat up, you need something warm in you.” came a calm and reassuring voice.

She looked up to see the creature move back to her spot where she proceeded to down the ice cream slowly, with a series of content moans that made the filly wonder just how much the creature enjoyed it.

Sitting up she moved closer to the fire, pulling the blanket over her shoulders she then carefully put the boiling hot pot in front of her then scooped some of the beans onto the fork and into her mouth.

She was instantly filled with warmth, tears fell freely from her eyes as she ate the first cooked meal she had in months. Even if they were just beans.

She watched the child devour the pitiful meal with abandon as tears matted her fur. Understanding all too well what the child must be experiencing, she broke down the pyre and threw more wood onto the flames. Opening the bag she took out another tin of beans. Not much but it was something. Scraping some of the wood away he revealed one of the stones placed near the heart of the fire, a long, flat piece picked for its ability to retain heat.

She then found a tin of corned beef. An idle thought entered her mind as she pondered why a mostly vegetarian species would have so much meat stored. Then again, she did notice some oddly shaped ponies from a distance, maybe there are more races then just them.

By the time she finished her thoughts she found herself slicing the corned beef and lay them across the heated slab.

Noticing that the child had finished she extended her hand and made a 'give me' gesture.

The child noticed and handed back the empty pot.

Filling it with beans once more the human placed the pot back on the burning wood before she took the flask from her pocket and handed it to the child who took it cautiously, opening the cap it sniffed the contents before taking a sip. Almost immediately it turned the flask and guzzled the contents.

Smiling sheepishly the pony handed back the flask which the human simply slipped it back into her pocket.

“What's your name?” asked the child, the voice was young and tomboyish but definitely female.

“It's not polite to ask for a persons name without giving your own.” responded the human.

The pony glared at her for a long moment, during which the human stirred the contents of the pot and scrapped the corned beef onto two flat rocks. The soft meat losing its shape as it transferred.

The pony licked her lips as she eyed the food, something the human noticed.

“I'm Scootaloo.” She finally said.

The human looked at her properly for the first time since she took the pony from the freezer. Her short purple mane hung in clumps from her head, her orange coat also clumped in various areas she could see under the now loosely hanging quilt, a purple tail poked out from under it. Her frame was petite yet athletic, covered by a pair of black running shorts and a blue hoodie.

'This Scootaloo could do with a long bath.' She thought. 'As could I, but where can I get one?'

She returned to reality to see the pony stare at her expectantly.

Placing one of the slabs holding the meat, followed by the pot, in front of the child, she returned to her own slab of formless meat.

“Nice to meet you, Scootaloo.” She eventually replied. “I'm Artemis Di, most just call me Di.”

Chapter II: New lease on life

Scootaloo found herself in tears, she knew it wasn't cool but in that moment she didn't care, she missed her mother, her friends, her idol. She was tired of being alone in a town filled with ponies that wanted to kill her. But at the same time, she was happy, someone pulled her from deaths grip, saved her life and gave her the first warm meal she ate in months.

Finishing the pot of beans she looked up to see the creature make a gesture, handing back the pot she wondered just what this creature wanted from her. Why did it save her?

She watched as the thing returned the pot to the fire and pour another tin of beans into it. It then took a hip flask from one of its pockets and passed it to her. Opening the flask she gave it a sniff, at least it wasn't alcoholic. Taking a sip she quickly learned that she had fresh water and a fierce thirst. Throwing back her head she guzzled the contents before her head dropped with a gasp.

Realising she had downed the lot she smiled sheepishly as she returned the flask. As the creature put away the flask she saw a small smile and a look of understanding on its expression.

Her curiosity got the best of her and she blurted out;

“What's your name?”

“It's not polite to ask for a persons name without giving your own.” came the reply.

She glared at the annoying beast, her curiosity and paranoia gradually growing. She watched as it stirred the pot yet again then it began to scrape the cooked meat onto two separate slabs of stone.

She licked her dry lips as she stared, a near constant state of starvation has worn down her own bias opinion on meat, to the point where it forced her to partake. Though it was a struggle at first, she was now capable of holding it down, even enjoy it.

She found herself once again wondering about the strange creature. It saved her, when it would have been safer to leave her to die. She even built a fire and wrapped her in a blanket, the only one it had by the looks of it. Then cooked her food. Actual warm, freshly cooked food.

“I'm Scootaloo.” She finally relented.

She watched it as it seemed to scrutinise her very existence with her gaze. Yet strangely she found herself worrying if it would disapprove.

Instead of replying right away it placed one of the slabs of formless meat in front of her followed by another pot of cooked beans, both of which she was happy to take part in eating.

“Nice to meet you Scootaloo,” she finally said, “my name is Artemis Di, most just call me Di.”

Scootaloo looked up to meet the kind smile the creature gave her, with a look of wonder. Her brief memories of her grandparents telling stories of magic-less humans with immense powers and durability came to her. One of the many stories were of the gods they worshipped. One being Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and the moon.

She stared in wide eyed wonder, fur-less skin, with naught but a mane to keep her body warm. Small yet piercing eyes that told stories with their gaze. Flat face with no muzzle nor snout but instead a small nose rose from the centre.

“Are...are you a goddess?” She asked weakly.

Di, stared at her in surprise before she laughed loudly. It wasn't a mean laugh, but one of honest merriness. Still stung her pride though.

“No, Miss Scootaloo.” She finally said with a smile. “I'm just another human. Though trapped on a world already falling apart.”

Scootaloo lowered her gaze, the fleeting, childish hope that she was a deity that took mercy on her and came to save her family and friends swiftly died inside her. Silently she finished her meal. She looked up to see a canteen held out in front of her. Taking a mouthful she closed the top and returned it to the human.

With a yawn she looked back at Di with a tired gaze.

“I think that's enough excitement for us for one day. Get some sleep, we'll talk over breakfast.

Scootaloo watched as Di took a sharp kitchen knife from her bag and handed it to her. Taking the knife she looked at the human in askance.

“To protect yourself, if something should happen.”

Scootaloo's grip on the handle tightened, a small nod was her reply before she lay down and curled up under the blanket. She then let sleep claimed her.

Di stared at the sleeping form, completely hidden beneath the quilt. A small smile on her lips. Though reality quickly caught up to her and as her smile vanished she considered her options. She could help get the kid started, her own backpack, some supplies, send her on her way. But then she'd be back to square one; stuck in a forest overlooking the town.

Her other choice was to up and leave, a feat that would be much easier alone then with another. Regardless, she had best set Scootaloo up with her own things, which meant a trip to town.

With a sigh she leaned back against a tree and closed her eyes.

Morning came with the sound of something stomping on wood violently and repeatedly. Scootaloo gripped the knife in her hand, uncertain as to where she got it, lifting the blanket from her head she saw something pound on a nearby fire with its hooves. The sight of which brought back her memories of the night prior.

Sitting up with a yawn she was greeted with an open can of apple slices. Taking the can with a “thanks”, she began to fish out the fruit with her fingers, watching as Di took a can of peach slices and helped herself to their would be breakfast.

“Morning.” Offered Scootaloo.

Di looked up. “Good morning.” She replied with a small smile.

There was an awkward silence as the two returned to their food.

When done, then threw the cans juices on the smouldering remains of the fire, a loud hiss signalling the end of their camp. Without much thought she rolled up the blanket as Di packed away what was of use, taking a moment to fill the flask with the canteen.

With everything packed away, she took the quilt from the pony and strapped it down. As she stood up she was surprised to see Scootaloo hand her the knife.

The corner of her lips curled upwards. “Keep it,” she said, “you never know when it will save you.”

With a nod Scootaloo let it fall to her side. With her standing at her full height and not curled in a ball on the verge of death, Di realised just how mistaken she was in regards to the mares age. She was head shorter then herself in height, 'about sixteen' Di guessed.

“Do you have any plans?”

For a moment the mare stared at her, considering her. Di approved of the doubt and long thought, she obviously had something she needed to do and didn't fully trust her but was weighing her options. Or so she wished to believe.

“I, have a friend back in town. But I haven't seen her in over a week. I know she's probably turned but I want to know for sure, you know?”

Di nodded. 'Closure.' She thought.

She picked up the axe, turned and walked away. The mare quickly caught up, not wanting to get lost in the forest.

“We'll find your friend and get you supplies of your own. How long have you survived in there?”

Scootaloo remained silent for a moment, collecting hers thoughts before speaking. “We, sorta spent as much time as we could hiding in our old club house on the farm. When we ran low on food we'd sneak into town and get some from places that didn't have the Turned in them.

Di gave a nod of understanding, noting the word used to describe the infected. “What happened to your friend?”

“Dinky? She was acting really odd for the last couple of days. Kept talking about a pony watching her from the edge of the woods but I never saw it.”

Once again Di's memories played back to the night after she arrived, before she went to sleep in that accursed cabin, a figure stood at the tree line, watching.

A drop of water striking the tip of her nose drew her eyes upwards to see dark clouds high above.

“Then one day she started talking about her mom. Said she wanted to find her.”

She looked back at the mare.

“But we both knew that she wasn't there any more, she was either gone with the rest,” Di tilted a brow, “or turned. No one can survive in the actual town for long, that's why I'm so worried. That was a week ago though.”

“And in that time you never found her and lost reason to believe she is alive.” The human finished.

Scootaloo nodded.

“And you can't leave unless you know, you can't walk away and risk abandoning your friend.”

Another nod.

“A loyalist.”

Scootaloo looked up in confusion.

Di smiled. “It means you wont leave your friends behind, you wont use and abandon them.”

The mare nodded with a smile.

'And it will get you killed.' The human finished in her head, refusing to say it out loud.

They stepped out from the forest as the rain began to fall. In mere moments the town was alive with the distinctive screams of the infected that could be heard even from their distance.

Scootaloo looked up at Di, seeing her clearly for the first time out in the open, no dark forest to hinder her sight.

The human stood a full head above her, tan skin covered in light bruises and small, dried cuts. Her arms were muscular and possibly limber, not as thick as a lot of adult ponies, especially earth ponies, but they lacked fat. Just tough muscle gained through experience that shifted beneath the skin, she looked exotic, so different then what she knew.

She then noticed the clothes Di wore. At first she thought they were just black but as the rain grew in force while they walked, she noticed the dark green of her pants show through the dirt. That is when she realised what the human was covered in, mud and blood. The rain revealed the faint coppery smell as it gradually removed the filth.

"Why are you helping me?" She asked, barely a whisper.

"I've nothing better to do." Came the instant reply.

The answer was so brutally honest, Scootaloo was at a loss for words.

She forced her gaze forward and realised they were just entering town. The screams of the Turned had died down to nothing, just the many taps of rain.

“Figured.” Muttered the human. Talking louder she said. “The rain will make it easier to hide ourselves but we got to be careful, they'll be less predictable.”

Scootaloo gave a nod of understanding but couldn't help but wonder how she could know such a thing as they started to walk again.

Then the screams of something very terrified rang up from two separate parts of town, followed by a third scream, one of agony.

Scootaloo was in a panic, she didn't know what to do or where to go. She looked to Di to see her with her eyes closed and her nose scrunched in concentration.

“The last two screams were close together and sounded older, one male.” The human muttered. “The first was young, possibly female but far away.”

She heard this and without thought, she ran.

“Wait, Scoots!” Shouted Di as the mare took off. A splash forced her to swiftly turn around and strike an infected with the back of her axe's blade like a hammer, smashing the skull with a wet crunch.

Three more infected charged at her through the rain with an unnatural scream as she readied herself.

Chapter III: Hunting grounds I

The rain had become a din as it fell, water flowed down the streets in streams. The sound of the infected shouting in the distance could barely be heard.

Di sidestepped an infected as it charged past her. She hopped back to get some distance but they closed the gap instantly. Lifting the axe to her shoulder she hopped to the left and swung it as another passed, the axe struck and cleaved the upper half of the once ponies head off in a show of force, far from a clean cut.

Something slammed her from behind, knocking her to the ground with a splash. Quickly she rolled over and swung. Fortune was in her favour as the axe connected with the infected as it tried to get to her.

She quickly stood up and tried to lift the axe only to find it stuck. The final infected grabbed her by the shirt from behind. She felt its warm breath on her neck.

She let go of the axe and spun as she lowered her upper body, leaping back she let her shirt slide off. She quickly recovered and charged forward with a roar and drove her elbow into the things head, knocking it to the ground.

Grabbing the axe she gave a shout as she pulled it free. The final infected was already up. She slid her foot across the ground, widening her stance and swung with all her might in a fit of rage. The axe passed through the creatures neck, severing its head from its body.

Breathing heavily stood still for a moment as her heart rate gradually returned to normal. She spied her shirt in the distance but paused as she heard more screams of the infected. Screams she now associated with the hunt.

A series of splashes up the street drew her attention, in the distance she barely made out a handful of infected through the rain.

Afraid, her hand drifted to the pistol but stopped short of the handle. She quickly took up the axe in both hands, turned and ran in what she hoped was the direction mare went.

Scootaloo ran uninterrupted. The few Turned she encountered were easily avoided as she moved, the heavy rain and splashes of her hooves were all she could hear.

She turned a corner as a loud bang could be heard in the distance.

The mare paused and looked back, worried for Di. But the words the human spoke earlier rang in her head, “loyalist” she had called her. She returned to her run with more determination then fear, she had a friend to find.

She eventually found the street she was looking for and smiled, the area was one of a few that was normally overran with the Turned that made it impossible for her to enter but now it was empty.

A scream startled her, a pony ran across the street with a Turned giving chase. Both vanished behind a house as she took off in a sprint.

She quickly covered the distance and took the corner with ease, the Turned just ahead of her. With a shout and a jump she slammed into it from behind, her legs and arm wrapped around it as she droved her knife into its skull. The Turned fell to the ground, lifeless with her sitting on its back.

She looked up to see a pale purple pony with a short blond mane wearing a thin white dress that clutched to her in the rain. A short, straight, spiral shaped horn protruded at an angle from  her upper forehead.

The purple mare stared at her in disbelief before she stood up and ran.

Scootaloo was stunned, her friend was alive. Scared, but alive. She was knocked from her stupor when the mare took off.

“Dinky!” Scootaloo called as she pulled the knife free. “Wait!”

“Stupid.” Di chanted under her breath as she ran. She couldn't believe how blind she was. The rain alone wouldn't cause such an uproar across town, the infected were too restless compared to what she had seen. They acted more like the ones she first encountered.

The memory of the three screams told her what they were hunting. Most likely a group had entered town while she and Scoots were in the forest. But for the entire town to go mad? The only thing that made sense was that the group was large and broke apart after they encountered the infected.

Now she was stuck in the middle of the mess searching for a pony she only met by chance the night before without a clue as to where she went.

Ahead of her she saw a commotion. Two figures stood on the open street, one animatedly doing something with what appeared to be a pole. She couldn't tell due to the rain. What she could tell were the three stumbling figures quickly making their way towards them.

Taking her axe she silently prayed to whatever deity would listen as she swung it over and behind her head. With a yell she jumped and hurled it.

A brown stallion, stood on the street in a panic, his rifle was jammed and refused to budge. Behind him stood his friend, a yellow furred and orange haired mare. Her rifle had long since broken and now wielded it like a club.

Both were terrified, the thought to run failed to register as the Turned closed in on them. He raised his rifle to shield himself when something slammed into the nearest Turned's head, knocking it to the ground. As it went down he heard the sound of splashes rapidly grow louder.

He was shocked to see a figure charge forward and punch a Turned in the side of the head with a small black object. The object flared to life with a bang as the opposite side of the Turned's head exploded outwards. The third Turned was knocked to the side by an invisible force.

As quickly as the figure came it was gone, disappearing into the heavy rain as it ran down the street without stopping. His surprise soon left him, and with it his fear. With a sharp tug the rifle slit and two empty bullet casing slid free.

He looked back to the corpses to see that their saviour had forgotten its axe.

Scootaloo chased Dinky across gardens and down alleyways as the purple mare tried to get away. She couldn't understand why her friend ran from her nor why she couldn't catch up. She was far more athletic then her friend who seemed to be on her last legs yet the gap never closed.

She lost sight of Dinky as she turned a corner. Following close behind she ran into someone standing in the way. Staggering back she readied her knife only to feel her courage falter.

What stood in front of her was a Turned unlike any she had seen before. It had a fungus like plant growing from its head, shaped like a surreal crown. One eye was grown over but the other stared at her with a predatory glare as it stood up straight.

A quick glance told her that Dinky was no longer there, with that she ran back around the corner as the Turned gave a hoarse scream.

Di knelt over a body she found face down in the dirt, examining it as she caught her breath.

“Knife wound to the head.” She muttered as she looked around.

There was nothing else, no clues as to who performed the kill, though she assumed it was Scootaloo, nor any hint as to where the killer went though she didn't expect any due to the downpour.

Irritated and worried she stood up and walked to the corner of the house and checked the streets. Seeing nothing she stepped out and walked in a random direction, completely lost.

She made a mental checklist of what weapons she had but all that was left was the pistol. A loud and limited tool that would get her killed in the long run should she use it recklessly.

With a sigh she walked to a random house and pushed open the door as she pulled the pistol from its holster.

She entered and made her way to the kitchen. With a quick glance around she found a knife block. She took one and put away her gun before she searched the rest of the building.

In one of the bedrooms she found a spear mounted on a stand against the wall. With a shake of her head she searched the room and found something wrapped in a black cloth. Curious, Di unrolled it and smiled. She tossed the kitchen knife away then pulled the combat knife from its sheath and inspected it. Thick, heavy, and sharp.

She sheath the blade, shut the clasp and placed it onto a nearby shelf. Unbuckling the belt that carried her holster she added the sheath then equipped the belt once more. Her gun hung from her right hip as usual while her new knife hung from her left.

She looked out the window and tried her best to figure out where Scootaloo would run off to. She wasn't ignorant, she knew that Scootaloo most likely held onto her belief that her friend, Dinky, was alive and when she heard the screams she feared for Dinky and ran.

'A rash loyalist, definitely going to get herself killed.' She thought.

Realisation dawned on her. She remembered what Scootaloo said, that she stayed in a clubhouse on the farm. If she was alive then at some point she would return there. Only problem was she had no clue where anything was, the rain made it impossible to see very far ahead. Then again, she wasn't obligated to protect the mare.

For a while she stood there, staring out the window as she considered her choices. With a sigh she decided to leave it to chance. She planned to leave town and if she happened to be near the farm she'd look around. If not, then Scootaloo was on her own.

She left the house, turned right and began to walk, focused on listening as she moved. The sounds of the infected hunting grew further from her but she still remained on edge, not wanting to be surprised.

“Time Turner.” Whispered the yellow mare.

“Yes, Harvest?” The brown stallion faced his friend, Golden Harvest.

Instead of replying she pointed out the window at a person who casually walked down the street, tan body and brown hair matted with rain. It wore a dark pair of pants and boots. Both simply watched as it turned a corner and vanished from sight.