Time

16 Hours

His entire body trembled as he crept along the sludge-filled ditch, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. Pausing, he peeked over the edge of the ditch, the whites of his eyes showing as they darted back and forth, trying to take in everything at once. His nostrils flared, flooding his senses with the repugnant odors that surrounded him. It was almost enough to make him gag, but he fought against the reaction. The last thing he needed was to make any loud noises. Ears perked, he listened intently for any sound, but the only thing he could hear were his own shallow breaths.

Swallowing thickly, he lifted his hoof and began to crawl his way out of the ditch. His hooves clicked loudly on the cobblestone of the road and he froze. Holding his breath, his ears swiveled around frantically, listening. After several tense minutes of nothing happening, he exhaled softly and continued on his way.

The town was in ruins.

What little he could see through the fog was slowly disappearing into the overgrowth of plants. The grass was high, nearly tall enough to hide him if he stood up straight. Crumbling buildings lay abandoned, several of them reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble. Vines and creepers covered any standing structures, sometimes the only thing holding a building together. Grass poked out from between the cobblestone of the road, tickling his belly as he crept along.

The wilderness was reclaiming what belonged to it.

Stepping over a rotten wood beam, he moved farther into town, swiveling his head around as he went. His tail was tucked firmly between his legs, wings twitching by his side. It took every ounce of willpower he had to not unfurl them and fly away in a panic. Keeping low, he picked his way through town, searching. Only the sound of his hooves clicking on the worn cobblestone could be heard, echoing eerily in the mist. He passed by rows of decaying houses, the overgrown yards lined with broken-down fences. A rustling noise caused him to freeze, his eyes widening. A sudden movement to his left caused him to leap back in fright. However, he relaxed when he saw it was just a leaf skittering across the road.

Licking his dry lips, he moved along.

After several minutes, he arrived in a large clearing in the debris. The grass was shorter in the clearing, and he could see several wooden structures dotting the area, most of them rotten and falling apart. Some of them even had the remnants of baskets resting around them. In the center of the clearing, an old fountain rested. It was cracked and crumbling, any water within having long since dried up. A statue of a mare standing on a ball lay strewn out atop and beside the fountain, and he could clearly see the pedestal that it had stood on. The statue's head was missing.

Picking his way through the clearing, he began to search through the weeds and brush. He had only been looking for a few minutes before he came across what he was looking for. Gingerly picking it up, he stretched the orange pelt of fur out, studying it closely. He tsked in annoyance when he saw that it was too small. Tossing it aside, he examined the pelts that he had found around the first one, but neither the white one, nor the pale yellow one, were the proper size either.

Huffing loudly, he continued with his search.

There were a dozen more pelts scattered throughout the clearing, each one of varying size and color. There was a mulberry one, a light gray one, a mint green one, several white ones, a pink one, and a dark gray one. Unfortunately for him, however, none of them felt right. Throwing the last pelt—a lovely cyan one—aside, he eyed the surrounding buildings with some trepidation. He didn't want to venture into their darkened interiors, but he had run out of pelts in the clearing.

Stealing himself for what must be done, he approached one of the desolated buildings. Stepping around bits of debris, he approached the building cautiously. It was larger than most, and colorful in nature, although all the colors were faded. The roof, accented with white trim, was caved in, bits of wood sticking up into the air like teeth. A yellow and pink tower rested several dozen meters away, clearly having fallen from the top of the building.

Putting a hoof on the faded-pink door, he gingerly pushed it open. It squeaked softly on rusted hinges before, with a crack, the hinges broke and the door fell with a resounding thud. With a yelp, he quickly ducked inside, hiding within the shadows. He was suddenly thankful that his coat was a dark color. Not wanting to be in the building longer than he had to, he quickly set about searching the destroyed interior.

Fog drifted in through the open doorway, sneaking across the floor like liquid cloud. Broken chairs and tables filled the room, the wood rotten and mossy. There was a smashed counter at the far end of the room, a dark red stain around the crushed wood. A yellow coat of fur rested in the middle of the stain, strewn out across the broken countertop. He ignored it, as it was too large for what he needed.

Bits of glass littered the floor from broken cabinets and crunched under his hoof as he slipped farther into the building. There was a doorway behind the counter, and he headed towards it, picking his way through the debris. Peeking his head through the archway, he glanced around the wrecked room. There were three pelts among the rubble. A large blue one, with a yellow one and a light brown one resting beside it.

Clicking his tongue, he eyed the blue coat closely before shaking his head. He didn't even consider the smaller ones; they were way too little. With a sigh, he withdrew his head. Glancing around the main room, he continued his search. There was another doorway, this one leading to a set of stairs that led downwards. At the bottom of the stairs was the smashed remains of a door, an orange pelt mixed in with the wood. An old hat rested alongside the carnage, the leather cracking. The pelt had several large tears in it; it was useless to him.

He was just about to leave and search another building when something caught his eye. It was a staircase that he had missed when he had first entered the room. Several steps had been destroyed, and the railing was missing. He trotted over slowly and glanced up at the dark hallway above. Chewing on his lip nervously, he slowly began to climb the creaky stairs.

There were three rooms at the top of the stairs. One was completely blocked by the collapsed roof, and one lead to a bathroom, the door hanging by a single hinge. The third one looked promising, though, and with a gentle bump of his hoof, he pushed it open. The room, like the rest of the house, was horribly disheveled. Vines had crept in the broken window and had completely covered the ceiling, several of them now dangling from a fan. The remains of a bed rested near the doorway, as if someone had been attempting to block the entrance to the room.

Ignoring the broken mattress, he stepped over the mass of springs and ventured deeper into the room. A quick glance around initially revealed no pelts amongst the rubble, but he continued looking anyways. Pushing aside a pile of damp fabric, he huffed in annoyance as all he found was a growing patch of mold. As he replaced the fabric, the closet caught his attention. Moving the doors aside with his magic, he peeked curiously inside. There was a large pile of blankets inside, relatively untouched by the elements. Lighting up his horn, he began to sift through the pile, searching.

After a few minutes of looking, he reached the bottom. He blinked in surprise, cocking his head to the side. There was a pink pelt at the bottom of the pile of blankets. He stared at it for a few seconds before his ears splayed backward and he huffed softly. It was the right size for what he needed, but it just didn't feel right. It would have to do, though. He couldn't be picky as he was running out of time. Lighting up his horn, he levitated the pelt out of the pile, only to freeze upon seeing what was beneath it. A smile spread across his lips and he tossed the pink pelt carelessly over his shoulder before reaching down and pulling the new pelt free of the pile. Holding it up, he eyed it in the light of his horn.

Lifting a trembling hoof, he ran it over the length of the pelt, enjoying the feeling of the velvety fur against his frog. It was a beautiful lavender color, and while patchy in some places, it was in excellent condition. He stared at it for a few more seconds before, with a shake of his head, he returned to his senses. Rolling the pelt up carefully, he tucked it beneath his right wing, holding it tight against his body. With that, he turned and made his way out of the building, nearly tripping on the stairs as one of them disintegrating beneath his hoof.

Stepping out into the fog, he double-checked that the pelt was still beneath his wing before setting off towards home. However, he had only taken several steps when a gust of wind suddenly blew through the town. He froze, his nostrils flaring as the scent of burnt and decaying flesh reached his nose. His ears perked up, and he stood perfectly still for a brief moment—his eyes wide—before suddenly making a break for it. Around him, the world exploded into motion and noise.

Howling and snarling filled the air as shadowy, shapeless creatures erupted out of the fog. They tore after their fleeing prey, the ground beneath their forms beginning to smoke and smolder.

He ran for his life, flitting between rubble and refuse as he sprinted in a blind panic. Pain suddenly seared up his hind leg, and glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that some of his stitches were coming loose; murky liquid and crimson grit was beginning to ooze from the wound. The stitching tore some more, and suddenly he couldn't feel his leg. It just dragged uselessly across the ground behind him. Realizing that he needed to get back home fast, he turned his head back around and put on an extra burst of speed, trying to ignore his lame leg.

A well suddenly emerged from the fog, and as he raced past it, loud shrieking began to echo up from its depths. The crumbling rocks began to shake before an explosion of darkness erupted from the well, the shrill cry of crows filling the air. The fog swirled as thousands of invisible wings beat the air.

Eyes rolling in fear, he let out a wordless whinny and fled into the fog, the darkness pursuing him. A large, familiar structure suddenly loomed from the fog, and with a cry of happiness, he galloped towards it, his hind leg dragging along. He was a few meters from the front door when he suddenly tripped over his lame leg, falling face first in a heap on the ground. Before he could recover, the cloud of shrieking shadows descended upon him, only to smash into a lavender shield that suddenly phased into existence around the structure. The darkness passed over the magical dome like water over rock. The shield flared, groaning under the pressure, but held strong.

Lying there, breathing heavily, he stared up at the swirling, howling wall of darkness, kept at bay by a thin layer of magic. His heart pounded in his chest, almost painfully so. The smell of burnt fur wafted through the air, several spots on his coat smoldering. His lame leg trembling violently, he struggled to his feet. The pelt he had just risked his life for was still pressed firmly against his side, protected by his wing. The feeling of its fur against his helped calm him slightly, and he took a deep breath. A sudden shriek from the darkness caused him to jump. Eyeing the swirling sea of shadow nervously, he quickly turned and limped into the structure, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

He had work to do.

There was no time to lose...