Heavy metallic crates sat alongside the wall, next to the huddling bodies of several ponies and their scant personal belongings. The crates' purpose temporarily being to block the cruel winter winds blowing into the air-dock, the crowd had taken refuge behind the hulking forms. A nipping chill ate at their skin, and they shivered and groaned as a mass. Mothers held their foals close, nuzzling their warmth into their shaking little bodies. A few stallions sat nearby, one taking full swigs of an unmarked bottle, and his companions trying futilely to snag their own share of the goods. The air-dock echoed with a sudden bang as the metal bay doors slammed shut, granting temporary relief from the winds. The crowd of ponies stood, shivering and miserable, to witness their one last hope - a fat, bearded unicorn and his charming daughter - trotting past their forms and onto the gangplank.
"My fellow ponies!" A rich baritone echoed across the bay, the crowd perking their ears and falling silent. "Today, we embark, on a grand journey!" He turned, pulling open the door to the large sky-chariot, the metal frame standing at eight meters long, its sleek black edges tainted by the grime and dirt of the others. The stains were well-worn on the vehicle, the red and black sheen echoing the sad truth of the times. Some mares covered their children's eyes in shock, while others could only shake their heads in grim understanding.
Cloudsdale had fallen...
"Let's go! Move it, ponies! These ground-pounders won't get through this city by themselves!" An irate, yellowish mare with a fiery mane shouted orders, pointing to her comrades flying about her, carrying everything from water buckets and food to children's toys and diapers. A steady stream of ponies, both earth pony and unicorn races mingled, having had the cloud-walking spell cast upon them before arriving to the city in the sky. Some foals bounced around on the fluffy surface, glee showing on their faces, while their parents trod along after them, heads hung low with grief. Or was it regret?
Spitfire barked orders to the rest of the squad, the crowd filing toward Hurricane Stadium with bags slung across backs - the leftovers from a previous life. As the throngs of ponies trickled to a crawl, then stopped entirely, Spitfire collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Wiping the sweat from her forehead, she could only frown in determination as she rallied the crew for their next run. Pushing off with renewed vigor, Spitfire led the Wonderbolts toward the Sanctuary, the numerous sobs and cries from the stadium echoing through her ears the entire flight.
A pair of burly pegasi stood before the chariot's back bay, a few of the crates and the crowd's belongings pile behind their massive figures. The stallions easily overtook the top of the fat unicorn's hat, muscles bulging and wings pumping small gales into the open air of the bay. With nary a grunt, the two hefted the crates and belongings into the back of the chariot, the wheels straining against the sudden weight. In pairs, the ponies began to line up, shivering in anticipation, fear, and from the chill that persisted even without the wind. The gangplank extended from the chariot, where the two stallions had started affixing themselves to the front harnesses, and the side doors opened. The crowd began to slowly file their way into the chariot, the small gap between the runway and loading dock giving the group a clear view into the pit below the city - a teeming mass of oozing black, the sludge mixing with the putrid bodies of Them in a macabre whirlpool of death.
Their moans tickled at the ears of Cirrus Strider as the crippled pegasus advanced across the gangplank, her hooves echoing across the cold steel. She wore only a small scarf, and carried a bit purse in its coils, the fabric doing nothing to keep out the biting cold.
'All the better to numb the pain...' Lazy eyes glanced over the chariot - the massive construct already full of ponies, and as the lack of hoofsteps behind her indicated - she was the last. Her wing - the left one having been lost in a close encounter when she had attempted to save her mother's friend - clamped against her side as her nerves skyrocketed. Darting, fearful eyes glanced quickly over the crowd she had spent the last two days around, searching for signs of Them, settling only once the entire interior had been checked. 'When did I become so damned careful?' Cirrus shook, knocking her forehoof on her head a couple times, her vision temporarily turning dark as she remembered the night her wing was torn off - a night she would not soon forget.
She had a feeling tonight was going to be one of those nights as well.
Shaking off her fear, Cirrus settled down on the floor as the chariot's door closed, the fat oaf's speech having been lost on contemplative ears. The stallion's voice crackled through the speakers from the front of the chariot, his eagerness showing bright and clear. "Today, after much planning, we shall flee, and escape Them! This city is doomed. The walls have started to crack already, and the streets fall to disarray. More and more of our numbers join the Mindless, and less of those who will continue our species' survival live to take another breath." The chariot shook, the stallions at the front taking off into the sky, the overburdened cart dipping slightly aft. An unknown figure slammed into Cirrus, the mare struggling to right herself in the lopsided cart. As the pair repositioned, Cirrus shook her head in disbelief. "Stormy?"
The unknown figure stood, reaching a black hoof up and sliding the cloak back to reveal a small earth pony before her. His black coat and silver-streaked mane gave him a rugged look, despite his small stature. One leg was wrapped in a bloodied bandage. "Cirrus? Oh thank heavens it's you!" The pony threw himself at Cirrus' hooves, his eyes full with happy tears. "I thought I'd lost you!"
"I know, Stormy, I know." Cirrus patted her friend's back. In the short time she'd known Storm Trotter, she'd come to bond with the only personality she could withstand in the troubled times. He reminded her of her youth, of the innocence before They came. His sparkling eyes showed gates to a rare bit of happiness in the barren, scary landscape that surrounded them now. The pair had met during the crowd's sorting at Hurricane Stadium, and after the horrifying events at The Sanctuary, neither had held contact with the other, nor knew of each other's fate. The chance meeting sparked some sense of relief in the well of unease filling Cirrus' body. "It's good to see you, Storm, it really is. I could have used your friendly face a few hours ago when Cherr- uh, I mean, when things happened..." Cirrus trailed off, the memory of her mother's friend, Cherry Breeze, being torn to shreds before her eyes burned her retinas and brought a fresh wave of tears to her face. The rip and tear of the muscles as They bit and chewed the mare alive, and her gurgling screams as they ate through her chest, sinewy strands dripping with her lifeblood and Their faces oozing with ichor and intestines, scarred her mind and echoed in her ears. She retched, dry-heaving on the floor of the unstable chariot as it swayed in the reckless breeze.
Cloudsdale was racing past, the buildings and walls disappearing before they came into sight as the chariot thundered onward, the fat stallion's voice crackling through the speakers once more. "We will survive! We will continue! We will escape!" The stallion's fanatic ruse came to an abrupt halt when the cart shifted backwards uncontrollably, one of the few crates aboard sliding toward the back doors. The passengers screamed, the collective wail piercing the eardrums of the group and deafening the drivers. A frantic stallion at the back began to push and heave at a crate, trying to send it overboard, before being tugged to his stomach by several others.
"Get off! That crate has to go!"
"That crate has my family's entire food stock in it! Are you mad?" Hooves smacked against hooves as the passengers began to fight over what to toss and what to keep. Cirrus backed away, her lone wing unfurling and twitching in irritation, before bumping into the back of a pregnant mare, her large belly swaying as she stumbled.
"Watch where you're going, chicken!" The unicorn mare snorted, turning about. "With only one wing, I bet it was hard flying away from Them as they devoured your family, wasn't it, chicken?" The mare's eyes held a black coldness, the pupils burning into Cirrus' head as her stare darkened. "In fact...I think they're missing the main course!" The mare's voice rose to a roar, her bellow garnering everypony's attention. Every set of eyes, unyielding and full of primal survivalist fear, studied her intensely, grazing over her lone wing as though a griffin to a captured mouse. The circle around her closed in tighter, their eyes burning with a malicious fervor. Hooves reached out, grabbing for her, the scant few magic users vying for a grapple on Cirrus as the mare backed into a corner.
"Toss the chicken!" A chant arose from the masses.
"Toss the chicken! Bait Them! Toss the chicken!" A set of solid forehooves closed around her legs, her wing beating feebly on the muscled back of her captor.
"Let...me...go!" Cirrus struggled to free herself from the vice-like grip of the pony, kicking and bucking at the walls, the crates, anything she could get purchase on. A small dark shape moved toward the pony, careening into their side and knocking Cirrus free. Recognition sparked on her face as she caught sight of the interloper. "Stormy!"
"You can't do this!" Storm Trotter cried, his voice cracking on the last syllable. "She's one of us! Isn't this whole thing about survival?" A brown hoof swatted him aside, the crack of Storm's jaw echoing through the now-silent cabin.
"Learn your place, son. It's the lil' missy's time." The southern drawl betrayed his cultured look, his tuxedo bearing fresh tears and stains. "We've a mite too much aboard, an' this lil' miss ain't fit fer colonizin'." He motioned to Cirrus, grabbing her by the wing, her squeals of pain falling on deaf ears. "This here wing won't support 'er, so how's it gon' support us, now, hm?" He tossed Cirrus to the side, her wing popping out of its joint and her foreleg crackling with pain. "We need some bait. For Them." He gestured to the pit, visible through the windows as the chariot began to leave Cloudsdale proper. "An' yer our ticket ta' freedom, missy." The hooves lifted Cirrus, dragging her by her dislocated wing and smacking her against the side of the chariot. He opened the side door, the air rushing out of the cabin and pulling Cirrus' back legs with it. The mare squealed in pain as her wing fibers strained against the whipping wind, each jerk of the limb rewarding her with a terrifying tearing sound and new, unrefined agony.
"No! Please! You can't do this!" Cirrus screamed, tears streaming from her eyes as she desperately grasped for purchase, her hoof wrapping around the stepping bar below the chariot door. The open skies of Equestria greeted her, the wide expanse of fields and mountains marred by the random smoke clouds and fires of burning towns. Below her, They milled about. The death vortex spiraled in vigor as they noticed the fresh prey hanging precariously above them. Hooves and limbs scrabbled over each other to try to reach for their meal, but to no avail. Her grip began to slip as the chariot passed through a cloud, the moisture soaking into her coat and slicking the rail. Cirrus redoubled her efforts, pulling with all her strength to latch her back hoof over the railing as well. She fought the tearing winds and the screams from the ponies inside, their taunts and laughter filling her with dread. 'How could they do this to me?' she wondered, snapped from her thoughts by the hoof that found its way to her face.
Reeling from the blow, Cirrus hung precariously to the swaying chariot, several of the smaller crates flying out the door and narrowly missing her. She could hear Stormy as he struggled against the overwhelming crowd, hear his cries as he called for her safety, hear his cries for her to survive, how he was sorry, how -
Cirrus would never know what else Stormy lamented for her, for the sack of clothing currently clinging to her was dragging her closer and closer to the ground. The chariot sped off into the distance, still shaking fiercely.
Cirrus fell, her wing whistling as the feathers tore out, each pinion floating down to earth above her, and her limbs flailed in fright. She frantically clung to the bag, realizing the step bar had come clean off the chariot - and was still wrapped around her hoof. Positioning herself atop the tumbling laundry bag, she braced herself for imminent impact, the sea of blackened bodies rising up to fill her vision. The smell came next - a putrid, rancid stench, of iron, of decay, of death. The moans filled her ears as the wind tearing past them was overtaken, Their eyes lopsided and gazing upward at their incoming feast. The ground raced up to meet Cirrus, the mare leaping at the last second, the bag crushing one underneath the force of impact, its blackened ichor spraying out from under the bag. The goop dripped off the faces of its brethren around it, and their moans - dry, heaving wheezes - scratched at her ears as she collapsed into a pile of what she could only assume were bodies.
The squelch of her landing sickened her, but not more so than the numerous faces, in various states of decay, right before her eyes - and under her hooves. She scrambled backward, only to bump into one, its groan tingling her spine as its cold breath traced down her neck. Cirrus rounded, pulling the stepping bar with her, right into the face of one. Its jaw disconnected with a sickening snap, and miasma swirled off its exposed tongue. The garbled moan came again, and the pony trotted forward on three legs. Three more whacks, and a solid stomp on the head, spelt the end for the pony, its grayed body sinking slowly into the muck of the pit. More moans arose, chilling Cirrus with their intensity - and quantity. Looking around her, she noticed the shapes forming, merging into beasts of terrifying proportions, Their bodies rising from the gunk, blood and organs dripping from their gaping wounds. One rounded on her, its eyes hanging from the sockets, and its left lung completely exposed to the air. The stench was overwhelming, and tears stung Cirrus' eyes.
Lashing out with a shaking forehoof, Cirrus cracked the skull of the abomination, its hiss as it collided with the ground growing silent at finding the bar impaled through its nostrils. Cirrus tugged at the makeshift weapon, taking most of the pony's skull with it. Brain matter and loose mane dropped to the ground at her hooves as she wiped the rod off on the ground, the remains joining the countless others'. Cirrus could not die here, she refused to let it become a reality. She may have struggled, and may not have been the best for a colony, but she would show them - she would show them all! Growling, she turned and faced the horde building around her, the bar clinking from hoof to hoof. "Well, boys? Let's see if you take this bait." Cirrus turned and sprinted through the sludge, the horde shambling after her as ponies rose from the depths in front of her. She ran past them with her hoof outstretched, the metal bar making quick work of the decayed neck tissue. A trail of headless bodies and blank eyes followed her through the pit.
Cirrus tore, tossed, kicked, beat, and stabbed her way through the horde, their clawing forms managing to tear the last of her pinions out and render her essentially an earth pony. She stopped, catching her breath, and looked behind her, the slightly-smaller horde advancing ever-constantly. Her wing tugged with a sudden yank, and Cirrus yelped in pain. She turned to see one of Them, its hooves locked around her limb, the rigor mortis of its limbs locking her in place as the horde advanced. The pony's jaw had long since eroded away, but it still gnashed its head as though biting her wing off. Cirrus pulled and kicked, to no avail. Her eyes watered, her muscles burned, and her lungs could barely hold a breath of air. She turned, noticing the first ponies of the horde shambling just tens of meters away. She frantically pulled on her wing, using her hooves to gain leverage. The limb pulled and stretched, the tendons snapping audibly and the skin tearing open. Blood gushed from the wound, inciting the horde's lust for food as Cirrus tugged with all her might. Her survival was more important than her wing, and she followed through with a determined yank. Her wail of anguish pierced the skies and echoed off the mountains in the distance as her wing severed from her back, blood running in rivulets through her coat, dripping off her belly. She ignored the stabbing pain and the throb of her head as she steadily lost blood - she had to continue.
She began to gallop, her sight growing hazy and the world beginning to spin around her. The squelch of her hooves on decaying matter soon turned to the beating of solid ground, and the mare turned to observe the horde dispersing - the more determined ones still shambling after her, while the others lumbered back to the whirlpool's inner spirals once more. She raised the bar above her, bringing it down on one's head, the splatter of its insides coating Cirrus and the surrounding grass in black. A softer gurgle escaped behind her as she spotted the last straggler - a foal, no less - and made to end it. She stopped, holding the bar above the ex-colt's head, its mouth gaping and drooling for her meats. She faltered - this was a foal, after all. 'Was...'
With a final huff, Cirrus severed the small head from its equally small body.
Stumbling and gasping for air, Cirrus came upon the wreckage with a final stab of hopelessness. The various bodies strewn about the wreckage either sported burns, physical wounds, or both, and she could see two black hooves sticking out from under the bloodied chariot. With a sigh of resignation, she slumped against the chariot's side, her hoof falling limply over Storm's, the now-cold stallion providing a small warmth - in Cirrus' heart. She sighed, leaning against the charred metal, as her lifeblood leaked from her open wound and stained the carriage's side. "Well... Cough! At least...We...made it." Cirrus chuckled, her lungs gurgling as she bled internally. "We made it...away from Them." Her coughs were turning up blood and phlegm, and her breaths came more ragged. Her wounds trickled slower and slower, her eyes growing dimmer with each passing second, and her slowing heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her sight grew weary and blurred, and her head lolled to the side as her limbs fell with finality.
"At least...we have peace."
Author's Note
Took me a while to get it down, but this is my foray into the -Them 'verse, and one I'm uncertain of my skill in. I came up with this, and after some deliberation/idea bouncing, courtesy of Paul, I've gotten this, the final product, Bait Them.
Enjoy.
EDIT(12/12): Minor fixes made to mark for canon. ~~Still maintains non-canon status, as of now.~~ No major changes made.
