Valley of the Fog

Colors could be seen from all angles, his eyes blinked as the rays of light from above covered his field of vision. He Squinted his eyes. With one motion, he brought his hoof up to his forehead, shielding his face from the blinding light. He found himself laying flat on his back watching the gray clouds moving slowly across the sky. He mentally took note of his surroundings, the gray tiled floor was still below him, the walls did not move and like before. The ceiling was still missing. But instead the bright moon, it was replaced with the bright yellow orb that hovered in the sky, taunting and annoying the tired pony. Looking to his left he found a wall- Which was extremely higher than the others- with shade. The stallion crawled across the stone floor making his way towards the cold shady floor. Pain quickly shot through the stallion's back, small sharp knives dragged down his spine as crimson blood poured down his back staining his coat, the gray sweatshirt the stallion wore, and the floor. He rolled over onto his side then flat on his chest. Coyote, again winced in pain as the sharp knives dug deeper into his hide.

The glass!? He quickly recalled.

The stallion looked back at where he was recently laying down and saw a large portion of his blood, sticky and dried up in a puddle. It looked like somepony had tried to clean up crimson paint with a mop. The stallion slowly rose to his hooves and looked around for anything useful to help cope with the searing pain. Out of the corner of his right eye he saw light reflect and shine.

He eased closer to the shine and found a large metal crate sitting next to one of the crumbling stone walls. The metal object stood two meters in height, towering over most of the props in the old looking castle. The stallion limped over to the ominous box. That's when he recognized the rectangular metal structure. It was a large Military heavy duty crate made from aluminum and iron with long pieces of rope wrapping around it. The pony moved to the right side of the crate and found a small gray crowbar dangling from a hook that lay drilled into the top corner of said crate. The stallion removed the crowbar from the hook and Jammed it into a small opening in the silver object.

He pulled back on the crowbar, the side of the crate opened up as it's door fell to the ground with a loud clank. Inside were a variety of knives, clothing, ground tools, survival tools, and large folded tents. But the most important tool in his life was the L shaped stick that lay in the far corner of the storage container with small flat rectangular clips, attached to the walls next to it. He walked around the crate, further examining it. Printed in white on the left side of the crate was his name,

Coyote Scavenger.

Coyote trotted back into the crate, pushing and moving objects out of the way. He took a sheet of paper from the clipboard that hung on the left side of the wall near the open breach. He placed the paper on a flat surface in the container, brought out a small pen from his hoodie and made a check list. He wrote down the simple standard object in the container.

Water, Knives, Shovel, Green Canteen, Tents, Ammo, Compass… The list went on. MREs, First Aid Kit, GPS… He wrote another word down in large letters but afterwards scratched it off as confidential. He looked back at the L shaped stick and sighed with relief. He placed the piece of paper next to the weapon and smiled.

Grunting in pain, he walked out of the crate, picked up the iron door and placed it on the opening of the container. It was heavy but he managed put it up while powering through the uncomfortable pain. He put a hoof above his eyes, covering them from the blinding sun and looked to the sky, trying to pinpoint his new location.

His mane was black and somewhat short, his eyes were blue with a scant of gold in the far corners of his iris, hardly visible, his coat was a deep brown. His voice was that of a young male, his limbs and muscles were strong and a mark never appeared on his flank.

Coyote ventured through the lush forest with light pouring through the leaves of the dark trees. His eyes wandered the surrounding area searching for any source of life. As he wandered down the dark forest, he came across a wide dirt road. On the side of the road was a thin pole with signs nailed to a wood beam which pointed in multiple directions. From where he stood a sign at the top of the wood beam pointing left wrote “Ponyville” while another sign below that one pointing to the right read “Dodge City” and the last one the very bottom pointing behind him wrote “Bogg”. A drop of water hit the end of Coyote’s snout. The stallion looked up and found dark clouds forming above him. He had to choose before the rain caught up with his travels.

He Choose Ponyville. He walked the path he was given and started to slowly trot, picking up speed. Again, pain shot through the stallion's back as he moved. He cringed, grinding his teeth together as if he were biting on a chew toy. It was then, the rain started to pick up. The trees acted like a roofs but only for a short time before the leaves could no longer support the water’s weight and fell on the forest’s floor with a splash picking up dirt alongside the water. Blood poured off the stallion’s back, the rain mixed with his blood making small pools of transparent crimson everywhere he walked. The stallion grabbed the back of his sweatshirt and threw his hood over his head, covering his eyes and his mane. He walked through tall branches and bushes, the long titanium chain around his neck jingled and swayed back and forth as two small squircle shaped discs smacked against each other at the rhythm of his steps.

Lightning struck the soil below him. Coyote jumped, startled by the loud sound. He cautiously watched the sky. He ran off the road and sat next to a tree. Poking at the ground, he waited for the rain to stop and the storm to calm. In the distance hoof steps slammed against the wet floor, with each step it held a rhythm and a beat. Coyote looked up and found a hooded pony trotting along the dirt road with a cloak and what seemed to be a basket of flowers and branches.

Coyote sat up. A living pony!? He thought.

The pony stopped in their tracks and looking at Coyote. The hooded pony’s eyes seemed to glow yellow under its cloak. The pony walked over to the brown stallion and greeted him with a bow.

“What have we here, why does this pony fear if I may ask my dear?” She said in rhymes.

Coyote stood straight, his size a little over her’s. He raised his left eyebrow. Does she know? “I’m not anxious?” He announced. His head dropped, and his ears flattening to the side of his head. “But” He paused. “I am lost,”

The mare walked closer, she stopped and stood in front of him stricken with fear. She watched the blood pour off the stallion's back and onto the muddy soil. She reached over to the stallion and grabbed his hoof. Coyote did not have time to react as she brought him ever closer to her. She examined his spine, the mare grabbed the stallion’s hoof once more and dragged him the opposite direction of Ponyville.

“You must worry! We must take care and hurry!” Said the hooded mare, galloping over to the road with the stallion.

“H-Hey!” Coyte pulled his hoof away from the strange mare.

The mare was taken aback by this. “We must help treat your wound with haste, and act fast before it is too late!” The mare again, reached for the stallion her teeth clench down on the stallion’s sweatshirt, she keeps a tight hold on his garment and tugs on it. “Please...” She pleaded. “Do not be rude, instead let me aid you!?”

The mare lead Coyote farther into the forest, he questioned whether the mare was helping him or leading him into a trap.

Saws and chains rattled in his head. *”HELP!!!” The voice played out in his mind. The chains stopped and the the saw seemed to hum loudly.*

His face saddened at the ever-lasting thought.

Time passed and they came across a cobblestone pathway which lead to a strange tree with stick windows and wood door. They entered the strange tree and when the Coyote examined the room, he found it to be hollow. Inside were a variety vases, bottles, and masks hanging from the ceiling and walls. The furniture was attached to the walls and floors, carved and made from the wood of the tree. A covered cauldron stood in the center of this room with ingredients scattered around it.

Coyote saw many potions and drinks on the shelves with the exception of a book or two. When the stallion turned around he found that the mare had hung up her cloak on the rack next to the door and when she stood in the light, he found that the mare was not a pony at all but instead something of different origins. Her coat and mane was black and white with stripes, her eyes were dark blue and the mark on her rump was a large sketch of a spiraling sun. She wore gold rings that wrapped around her neck, left foreleg and one gold ring that was pierced into her ear.

The mare pointed towards the stool that sat next to the cauldron. Coyote sat in the stool, slouching towards the large stone pot. “How tragic” She said looking through one of her draws “what made this so graphic?”

Coyote tapped his chin with his hoof, remembering the event that transpired in the castle, the broken and scattered glass. “When I was venturing into a strange castle I fell on some glass and almost broke my spine” The tweezers fell from the mare's mouth in shock. She knelt down and grabbed the tweezers again with her teeth and places them next to the stallion. Coyote turned his head around with eyes of concern. “Is there something wrong Miss?”

She walked over towards another table and brought out an aluminum pan “For such an injured back, surely you must feel rack?” She brought the pan next to Coyote and placed it on the floor.

Coyote turned his head back towards the cauldron and closed his eyes, flashes of repressed memories flooded his mind. “I don't want to say?”

The mare nodded in understanding. She gripped the tweezers with her teeth and motioned them towards Coyotes back. “May you remove your garment please, It will allow me to work with ease” She asked.

Coyote put his hooves near his hip pocket, he hesitated as he carefully pulled his sweatshirt off his torso, blood stained glass fell off the garment. He then proceeded to throw his sweatshirt to the ground.White cloth bandages wrapped around his upper body, dry blood covered a portion of the cloth. A small uncovered oval shaped scare exposed itself. Coyote quickly covered it with a loose piece of cloth.

The mare’s eyes widened in terror. “How did this happen to you, these wounds are nothing new?” She asked, gesturing towards the covered scare.

Coyote looked away from the Black and white striped mare. “It’s personal,”

The mare paused, saying nothing to the seemingly young stallion, instead, she gripped one of the many pieces of broken glass with the tweezers and pulled. Coyote flinched as a shard of glass was ripped from his hide. The mare put the shard  in the aluminum pan next to her and repeated the process multiple times. After two hours of pain, the last of the glass fell in the silver pan with a loud clang. The mare brought Coyote a new roll of bandages. She offered to help replace the cloth but Coyote objected and asked for some privacy instead. When Coyote came out into view his sweatshirt had been picked up and given to him by the mare who helped. Coyote smiled and put on his garment.

“Thank you” He said soft-spokenly. His eyes focused on the kind creature he stood by. “What's your name?” He asked with the same gentle tone.

The mare walked over to one of the shelves and brought out a small dark green bottle with a brown cork on the lid, she put the bottle high above her head, next to her ear and shook it. “I am Zecora, a shaman of Mora” She smiled, giving the bottle to Coyote.

Coyote took the bottle from Zecora’s hoof and raised his eyebrow in confusion. “Uhmm?”

Zecora held Coyotes hoof to comfort the stallion. “Do not fear, for it will soon be clear” Coyote put the tip of the bottle to his mouth and took two sips. He placed the the bottle on the table next to him and stood in place, waiting for the bottle to take effect. Zecora laughed as she saw the stallion wait for the effect of the bottle to ensue. Zecora walked to the table Coyote stood next to. Picking up the bottle, she walked to the exact shelf she removed the potion and put it back in its proper place. “Your voice is soothing and soft, may I ask who talks?”

“Oh, my name is Coyote-”

Three knocks made their way to the front door of the hut. Zecora and Coyote looked at each other with bewildered stares, seeing as they were both in the middle of the forest where no pony would ever go. Zecora walked over to the door and opened it. To Coyote’s surprise, a young purple female alicorn stood in the doorway of the shamans home.

“Hi Zecora!”

I see so many breath through broken lungs when fighting for what they believe in,

but never have I seen a stallion or mare fight with a missing soul

S.C.