Reforming Spell

Some of us were. The Manticores are one of the less territorial predators in the Everfree, so they tend to cast a wide net when they go out hunting.

But the first monster to find us, as our less-than-stealthy group tried to figure out where we were and which way we were heading, was a Timberwolf.

“Oh wow,” said the nearest clone, staring at the Timberwolf in fascination instead of doing something useful, like screaming ‘Timberwolf’. “Get a look at this magical construct! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

It growled. Several other clones took that as an invitation to get closer and start poking at it with their hooves. “Is the green stuff nature energy?” one of them asked.

“Eww, it stinks,” said a third, scrunching up her nose.

There was a snap, and a crunch, and her headless body collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from the mangled remains of her neck.

“Ahh! I’m sorry! You smell really nice, honest!” said the first clone, staring at the Timberwolf in horror.

It raised its bloody muzzle, and howled. This was the point when the three of us who had memories, and were therefore in charge of leading the pack, stopped arguing about which way was north and noticed that there was a huge freaking Timberwolf about to eat us.

“Run! Run, you idiots!” said Number Two, taking her own advice. I was right on her tail, with Thirty close behind me.

Answering howls came from all directions, as our little Lyra herd raced off into the darkness.

I do have the memories of the three other clones that the Timberwolves got, but it was dark and everypony was confused, and they all died pretty quickly. Timberwolves are quick, you have to give them that. One of them got grabbed by her hind leg, which shattered and twisted out of joint as the Timberwolf swung her around in the air by it. It let go at the top of the arc, and she lost consciousness as soon as she hit the tree.

But, anyway, most of us got away, somehow. Maybe they stopped to play with the bodies, once they’d killed a few of us? All we really knew was that we ran for a while, getting even more lost, and then did a headcount and found that there were twenty eight of us left.

“You wanted this to happen!” said Number Two, pointing her hoof at me. “You wanted us to get eaten by monsters, so that you could cast the spell on yourself and remember getting eaten by monsters!”

“You know that’s not true!” I said. “Although… now that you mention it…”

“We don’t know what happens when a clone dies by violence,” Thirty said. “We should try to save as many of them as we can.”

“And ourselves,” Number Two added.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “No more monsters.”

That was when the Manticore attacked.

It landed right in the middle of the herd, crushing two clones under its paws, pinning them down as they squirmed in uncomprehending agony with shattered legs and huge gashes torn in their backs. Before they could even scream, all other noise was drowned out by the creature’s terrifying roar!

“Manticore!” Number Two squeaked, “Run!”

“No, wait,” I said, as I noticed that none of the mindless clones had retreated. “Look –“

Thirty had taken a few steps after Number Two, but stopped and turned back, and we watched the clones circle around the Manticore, calling it names and scolding it for hurting their friends.

“Bad kitty!” one of them shouted, bucking it in the side.

“Get off them!” another cried, charging at it with her horn. The Manticore’s stinger plunged down reflexively, and she spasmed and collapsed at its feet, writhing in pain and contorting as all her muscles started to lock up.

So, yeah, it put up a fight. A clone was gutted with one swipe of its paw, another flung back against a tree by a wing, a third had her head caught in its jaw, and died as it shook her back and forth until her neck shattered. Two more were stung, and joined their herdmate on the ground, slowly dying from the poison.

But there were too many of them, and even unicorn ponies have a pretty strong kick. And our horn isn’t just for show! Right, or magic. It’s not just for show and/or magic. You can stab Manticores with it.

I don’t think the Manticore was actually close to losing the fight, but the fearlessness of the clones was just too much for it, and the poor thing was spooked. It flew off, nursing a few bruises and puncture wounds, and the surviving clones shouted insults after it, and shot a few bolts of unfocused magic that it probably wouldn’t have noticed even if they’d hit.

I took a quick count, once they’d calmed down. Eighteen unhurt, and three more that would probably live, although they’d taken a hit.

“We need to keep moving,” I said. “Are you good to travel?”

Two of them nodded, but the third shook her head. “My ankle hurts every time I take a step.”

“I’ll carry you,” Thirty offered.

“No,” I said. “We need to get out of here as quickly as possible, and we can’t have injured or burdened Lyras slowing down the whole group.”

The limping clone nodded. “Okay. I’ll follow as fast as I can.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning. “Yeah, that would work. I was going to suggest putting you out of your misery but I guess a sprained ankle isn’t really that bad.”

“You could finish off the ones who were poisoned,” Thirty suggested. “I think they’re still technically alive.”

One of them was, and in total agony. I lined up my horn carefully, and stabbed her in the eye. At first it just popped the eyeball and ground against the socket, but I set my hooves and thrust forwards, and felt bone crack around it as it penetrated her brain. She jerked, and went still. Later, when I got her memory – yeah, she’d been wishing for death.

But my horn got stuck, and it was an awkward couple of minutes until Thirty managed to organize the clones to combine their magic and pull me loose. I crushed the skulls of the other two poisoned ponies with my hooves, even though I was pretty sure they were already dead. It turns out that when you’re frustrated and apparently addicted to murder, crushing the skull of a corpse is still pretty satisfying.

So we moved on.

We lost two to a cockatrice. I just – I don’t even – how could those clones be so stupid?

Yes, yes, I should have their memories, let me think. Right. One of them got stoned because she didn’t know any better, and a second joined her because she thought it looked fun. The good news is, they stopped being conscious once they were turned to stone, so at least they weren’t suffering, and we managed to herd the rest away from the budding statue garden before anypony else looked in the creature’s eyes. The bad news is that it wasn’t fun at all – being petrified is apparently pretty painful.

We lost one more to some sort of plant-thing. The vines just came down from the tree and snatched her, and she was gone before anypony could really react. In case the message here isn’t getting across, let me be perfectly clear – do not under any circumstances go into the Everfree Forest at night. That place is a Celestia-forsaken death trap!

Well, okay, that clone didn’t actually die right away. As of the time I had the memory spell cast on me, she was still alive, just drugged silly and being slowly digested by the plant, which she’d decided she was in love with. There were little roots digging into her flesh in dozens of places, but she was so hopped up on plant venom that it actually felt good. You know – the next time Bonnie’s out of town, I might go see if I can find that plant, with the Night Guard armor on so that I don’t stay dead.

It’s not suicide if you don’t stay dead!