Black Cat

Chapter 1: Foggy Everfree

On a night like this, where the fog lays thick, and both the winds and wolves howl together in unison. Where the discolored, crunchy leaves scuffle across the cold, uneven, dirt road; and the bare, dented trees loom overhead with their long, lanky branches reaching across like dark, thin arms waiting to snatch up anyone that may pass by. Under conditions like these, any sane pony would keep themselves inside their homes, safe and warm. However, there is one carriage riding the rough, dirt road tonight. With noisy, wooden wheels, the wagon creaks and squeaks incessantly, somehow overtaking every other sound in the night. The wagon is pulling a large trailer, bordered with lights, and painted with colorful designs of stars and swirls. Unlike any other normal carriage, somepony would have to pull its weight in order to get anywhere. This one, however, appears to be pulling itself. Protruding from the roof one could see a system of fixed, metal pulleys, and ropes constantly weaving through them like a machine.

At the head of the carriage, there is a compartment with a door, and a bright, red curtain to help shield the windows. Inside, one mare is operating the machinery with a simple pair of pedals, and the ropes connecting to the contraption all the way from the roof of the wagon. The mare’s hooves are beginning to tire from the consistent pedaling, but doesn’t wish to stop until she’s found a way to escape the fog. As she slowly becomes frustrated and impatient, she aggressively swipes the long bangs of her silver mane away from her violet eyes. “We’re not lost. We can’t be lost. Surely this road must lead us somewhere!” She says. “You don’t think we’re lost, do you?” The mare turns her head to look back at the pony-shaped doll sitting on a small, wooden stool, and propped up with its back against the wall. The doll, simple, soft, and stitched together to keep the stuffing inside; has clearly gone through years of age, as the purple cloth keeping the stuffing inside has gotten dull and worn. She looks into the doll’s black, button eyes, almost as if she believes they can truly stare back. “Oh please, I’m not going to turn us around. Not after how long, and how far we’ve gotten from the last town. . . Well, you have a bad feeling of just about anything. I don’t even know why I bothered asking you.”

She turns her attention back to the path, and with what little distance she can see in front of her, she finds that the road all of a sudden ends. Panicking, she tries to bring the wagon to a halt, but the momentum is too great. The front wheels of the wagon leave the edge of the cliff, and the nose of the carriage tips downward with them. The mare shuts her eyes, bracing herself for the fall, but the carriage isn’t lead any further off the cliff. Sighing from relief, the mare turns back to look at the doll. “Well, that could’ve been much, much worse.” She chuckles. “Now, just how am I going to get us—” The wagon jerks, and the nose of the carriage is brought even further downward. Without any time to react, the cliff gives way, sending the wagon tumbling down the steep hill. The mare inside is continuously tossed around the compartment as her body slams against the walls each time the wagon turns over. With a loud crash and a splash, the wagon is left on its side, half submerged in a murky pond. Aching all over, the mare tries to get herself together. A dank and repulsing smell fills her snout. Her violet cape and hat, along with her sky blue coat, are now soaking in the muddy water. She tries to lift herself up and out from the water, but is kept to her knees as her head is close to the wall above her. “Rosa! Rosa where are you?!” She calls, scrambling around the compartment. She finds the doll, floating on the surface of the water that has gotten inside. “There you are,” she says, now relieved. She picks it up with her teeth by its leg, and searches for a way to escape. With the door now above her, she turns the handle and pushes the door open like a hatch. Straining from the pain of her bruised body, she climbs up and out of the compartment, but falls down into the pond submerging her body up to her neck. She crawls out from the pond and onto the damp soil, trying to catch her breath.

She takes the doll in her hooves, and notices a long strand of algae is draped over its head. Disgusted, she takes it off with the edge of her hoof, and flings it away as far as she can. With that out of the way, she smiles, glad to see her doll in one piece. Until the sudden realization hits her, and she turns back to see her carriage badly damaged and submerged in the pond. “Oh no! No, no, no!” She removes her hat, slamming it down onto the ground out of anger. From underneath her hat, not only does it reveal her now soaked and droopy mane, but her horn at the base of her forehead. Around it, a pinkish glow forms, as well as the carriage. Her eyebrows tense, and her teeth clench as she focuses. The wagon budges, slowly being lifted up from the water, but after nothing but mere seconds, she grunts from the struggling, and the glow disappears from both her horn and the wagon as it sinks back down into the pond. There’s no way she can pull her wagon out of the pond on her own. She needs to get to the nearest town, and quick. However, taking a good, long look around at her surroundings, she finds she may have a difficult time finding even a road sign. Simply because there is a complete lack of a pathway. The mist is still present, and seems even thicker than above. The trees are all covered in moss, and at the base of their trunks, their roots reach out from the mud. The air is warmer, and humid; and nothing but the sounds of crickets and frogs fill her ears. “We don’t have to go through all that . . . right Rosa? We could just climb back up the hill.” She gazes up at the hill, not only realizing how steep it is, but how high it must be since it is concealed by the fog. “Well, I guess you’re right. We’d better start walking.” She levitates her hat off from the ground with her magic, and squeezes it like a towel to remove all the water that has soaked into it. After puffing it back out, she places it atop her head, and nestles her doll behind the collar of her cape to keep it strapped to her chest.

Now leaving her wagon behind, she travels deeper into the swamp. Constantly harassed by buzzing insects, it seems no amount of her swiping at them will keep them away. Her hooves get sucked in by soil that isn’t as dense as the rest, and has to pull them out with her coat becoming more and more dirtied with mud. As she continues to trek through the swamp, she also continues to gather more mud and grime, infuriating her even further. “Stay calm, I need to just stay calm. We’ll find our way out of here eventually. And when we do, the first thing I’m going to do is take a long bath. . . Oh, ha-ha, very funny Rosa. This is anything ‘but’ an improvement.” Distracted by her doll, she stumbles into a long, green vine dangling from a tree. She jolts from the surprise of bumping into it, but the bottom of the vine lifts and curls upward, a pair of small yellow eyes stare into hers, and a long forked tongue hisses at her. Filling to the brim with fright and adrenaline, she gallops away as fast as possible, screaming along the way. To make sure she’s far from the threat, she glances back the way she came. Her right hoof stumbles over a stone, sending her tumbling down a grassy hill. She lands flat on her belly, thankfully, not into any mud. She quickly pushes herself up from the ground, fearing she may have squished her doll, and a sudden pain in her back kicks in. Upon opening her eyes after clenching from the pain, she finds herself gasping before a saving grace. A large wooden shack, dirty and decrepit, but a pulsing, orange, candlelight in the windows. Excitedly, she struggles to get to her hooves, and stumbles along the path towards the front door. She knocks on the door, and eagerly awaits an answer. After moments without an answer, she raises her hoof to knock once more. Before her hoof can make contact with the wood of the door, a voice stuns her.

“There is no need to knock again. I heard you the first time.” The voice sounds agitated and raspy. The mare can hear hooves approaching the door, and a little slot in the door opens up at eye level with her, causing her to jolt as an eye glares into hers. “Hmm, ‘tis a bit early to be dressing up for Nightmare Night isn’t it?” The mare asks.

“What? Oh, no. This is my uniform. I wear it when I perform on stage. You see, I’m a traveling magician, surely you must’ve heard of me before.”

“Can’t say I’ve heard of the ‘Big-Hatted Filly’ before.”

“Well, that’s . . . that’s not my name. Allow me to introduce myself. I am none other than the ‘Great’ and ‘Powerful’,” she pauses to add a bit of dramatic tension. “Trixie!” She finishes with her chin up and hoof in the air.

“. . . Nope, can’t say I’ve heard of ya Miss Big Hat.”

“It’s Trixie, ma’am.”

“Well, if you’re going to show up on my property just to order me around, then I believe this conversation to be over.” The mare shuts the slot in the door shut, leaving Trixie baffled.

“W-What? Ma’am! Please! I need help!” She pleas, but there is no response. “My wagon crashed a bit of a ways back, I’m lost, and I could really use some help!” The slot opens back up, jolting Trixie a second time.

“What was it you said?”

“I was traveling down the road, my wagon fell into this pond, and I’m just trying to find some help. I’m hurt, and a mess, and . . . I figured, maybe, I’d ask if you could help me.”

“Hmm . . . just a moment.” The slot shuts once again, and it is followed by chains rattling and locks turning. The door creaks loudly as it opens, revealing somepony hidden under a long, black, hooded cloak. “Do come in. Please excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

“Thank you.” Trixie steps into what appears to be a living room, and she feels something brush passed her leg. “Ah! What was that?!”

“Oh ‘tis nothing to fret over. It is only Thomas.”

“Thomas?” Trixie looks down, and finds a gray cat weaving between her legs. “Oh! It’s just a cat. How cute.”

“Don’t be fooled. He can be quite rambunctious at times. Especially if he spots any rats or mice scurrying about in the house.”

“Did you say rats?” Trixie, tensing up at the thought.

“Do not worry, I’m sure he’s taken care of them all by now.” The mare closes the door behind her, following Trixie further into the living room. “My dear! Look at you! You look like you’ve taken quite the punishment,” says the mare, noticing all the cuts and marks on her. “Please, lie down on the couch, I’ll return with some things to prevent any infection.” She guides Trixie over a dark, torn sofa where the stuffing is poking out from the tears. She lays on her back, and the mare leaves the room. As Trixie listens to her rummage through some cupboards, she takes a moment to fully examine the room. Just like the outside, the wood walls appear to be very old, with rusty nails holding them together. Then along those walls hang many paintings of cats. Each one is different, and it feels like they’re all staring down at her. Feeling a bit creeped out by the paintings, she turns her head to the side, and notices a white cat sitting atop a bedside table. She finds it strange how she hadn’t noticed it before. Out from under that table, a brown cat emerges to join the white cat’s stare towards Trixie. Soon, cats emerge from every shadowed corner of the room. Some even hop onto the sofa to inspect and smell Trixie. Intimidated by the sheer number of them, she leans as far as she can into the sofa to try and keep away from the curious cats. “Hey! Down from there!” The mare commands as she reenters the room. As directed, the cats leave the sofa. She brings a wooden chair near the sofa, and takes a seat near Trixie with a wooden tray of torn cloth and a bowl of some kind of dark green mush. “Well, I see you’ve met the rest of my family.”

“Family?”

“Why yes, my little friends here are all that I have. I’ve grown so attached to them that they might as well be considered family. Now, this may sting a bit, but trust me, it will heal your injuries.” She dips the cloth into the bowl of mush, and proceeds to dab Trixie’s cuts with it. Trixie cringes a little from the sharp pain, but it quickly subsides.

“Pardon me, but, what is it exactly you’re using?”

“Just a mixture of herbs and some water. Something I learned to make since there aren’t really any doctors and such nearby.”

“Oh, so, how far would I have to go until I got to any village?”

“Let’s not worry about that right now. You’ve clearly had quite a night, so you should rest for a while before even thinking of heading back out there.”

“Well . . . I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right Miss Big Hat.”

“Trixie . . . my name is Trixie ma’a—”

“Why don’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself? I am quite interested to know.”

“Oh, well, um. . . Like I said before, I am the ‘Great’ and ‘Powerful’—”

“Now why would you give yourself a title such as that? For somepony who’s been bruised and battered just by my little swamp here, one may say you’re telling a fallacy.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that I am everything ‘but’ a fallacy. When I arrive to town, everypony gathers to witness the spectacle I can bring to the stage.”

“You seem very confident in your abilities.”

“Of course I am. Anypony would be lucky enough to have me cross their path.”

“Is that so. . ? I hope you don’t mind me asking, but why do you carry that toy with you? Normally, somepony at your age wouldn’t bother to dabble in such childish things.”

“Oh, this? Ah, well, you see. . .” Trixie trails off, nervously trying to come up with an answer. “I’ve had this doll ever since I was a child. I just uh . . . wouldn’t be able to bear parting with her—it!”

“Yes, I see. Do you travel alone?”

“Well . . . why do you ask?”

“I only ask out of pure curiosity.”

“. . . Yes, I do travel alone. And for good reason.”

“And what might that be?”

“Because I have no ‘need’ or ‘want’ for company. A waste of time is what it is. All I’ve ever had was me, and me alone. And to be honest, that’s the way I prefer it.”

“I understand. What would be the point of trifling with some other pony, when all they’re going to do is just slow you down?”

“Precisely my point. . . Say, tell me about these paintings. Did you paint them?”

“Oh, goodness no. I could never produce wonderful works of art such as these. They were gifts. Given to me by a certain somepony I used to be affiliated with.”

“Who would that be?”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I would rather not touch upon the subject any further. Nothing but bittersweet memories they are.”

“Oh, alright.” Just as the mare finishes cleaning up Trixie’s cuts, she begins coughing and hacking violently. Trixie reels back into the sofa, as the mare uses her cloak to try and mask her mouth as she coughs. “Ma’am, are you okay? Are you sick?”

“Please, excuse me for a moment,” she says, hurrying out of her seat and into another room. Curious and concerned, Trixie leaves the sofa and approaches the door leading to the room the mare rushed into. She can hear faint sounds coming from behind it, and as she presses her ear against the wood, she can clearly hear the mare coughing even harder along with occasional spitting. Disgusted by the sounds, Trixie feels she should just back away and wait at the couch. However, she can feel a slight temptation to see what’s wrong. Quietly, and carefully, she twists the handle to the door, and pulls the door until it’s slightly ajar. Trixie quickly covers her muzzle with her hoof, as she is completely overtaken by a foul smell that has erupted from the crack in the door. Cautiously, she gazes through the crack in the doorway to see the cloaked mare leaning over a countertop, hacking into an old, rusted sink. Suddenly, a fly buzzes through the doorway, and along with it, Trixie notices more flies in the room. Scanning the room, she can see the flies are becoming more abundant in the far left corner of the room. In that corner, she finds a couple of cats sitting atop a mound of dirt. Upon further investigation of the pile, she notices red puddled at the bottom. What she thought was a mound of dirt, turns out to be a large pile of lifeless, mangled rats. Trixie gasps at the sight, alerting the cats atop the pile of bodies. They turn to the door, hissing angrily; and the hooded mare, whips around to see Trixie watching.

With her heart now racing, Trixie gallops for the door to escape. Just as she opens it up, the door slams back shut, and no amount of tugging will get it loose. Her eyes dart around the room for another escape. Her eyes focus on the windows, but the shutters slam shut as well. All of the cats in the house hiss and walk towards her, surrounding her as if they are ready to pounce and attack. With nowhere left to turn, Trixie leans with her back against the door, trembling with fear as the hooded mare approaches. “Y-You stay away from me!” Trixie shouts as she tries to use her magic to maybe levitate an object to throw and keep her at a distance. However, no matter how much she struggles to cast her spell, nothing happens.

“Don’t even bother.” The mare chuckles. “Your magic will not work here in my presence. Peculiar, isn’t it?” With the mare closing in, Trixie attempts to jab and kick her with her bare hooves, but every attempt she makes, the hooded mare dodges each one with such swiftness it’s almost unnatural. Clueless, Trixie stands unsure of what do, and is overwhelmed with fright. The mare grabs Trixie by the collar of her cape, and lifts her up off of the floor with just one hoof. In one violent motion, the mare throws her across the room, crashing into a tall, wooden wardrobe. Trixie falls to the floor, unable to pick herself back up, and instead adjusts her head to watch the hooded mare walk towards her. “I invite you into my home, I tend to your wounds, and you decide to eavesdrop? Sticking your nose into places you’re not welcome?”

“I-I didn’t mean to. L-Listen, I’ll just leave and you won’t see me ever again.”

“Oh no, you have it all wrong dear. I don’t want you to leave, not yet.” The mare sits near Trixie, and lowers the tone of her voice to a more gentle one. “You see, I find you to be simply perfect.”

“W-What?”

“Yes, there’s something ‘different’ about you. I can sense it. However, the way you described yourself to me, doesn’t seem to match. Nonetheless, I am willing to take my chances with you. I believe you are the one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Please, don’t.” Trixie whimpers. “Whatever it is you’re planning on doing, please don’t.”

“Now, now, do not fret. I feel this could be something that could benefit the both of us.” The mare stands back up, reaching into the pocket of her cloak. “Do not worry, this will be painless.” She holds her hoof above Trixie’s body, and sprinkles down shreds of grass and other pieces of unknown herbs. She begins whispering a chant of inaudible words, and within seconds, Trixie’s body starts to glow. She soon becomes enveloped by an explosion of bright, white light.

Trixie opens her eyes, and finds herself in no pain. However, the room has suddenly become dark. She raises her leg to reach into the darkness, but touches something that bears the texture of thick cloth. Whatever it may be, it suddenly lifts up to reveal the room. Although, Trixie notices that everything appears much larger. “Ah, there you are,” says the, now suddenly massive, hooded mare as she looms over her with Trixie’s hat held in her mouth. “Now, tell me, how do you feel?” Trixie looks down to her leg, and is shocked to find it completely covered in black fur, and her hoof has now become a paw. Frantically turning and twisting to get a look at the rest of her body, she discovers that she is entirely covered in a coat of black, all of her hooves are now paws, and her tail has now been replaced with a thinner, rope-like tail. She gets to her paws, trying to speak or scream, but it all comes out as small, soft ‘meows’. “What? No, this isn’t right,” The hooded mare says in a concerned tone of voice. “Come now, you can do it. Speak!” Trixie desperately attempts to form words, and is barely succeeding. “You’ve almost got it! Keep trying!”

“Mmmwwha— Wwwhat have you d-done?! Wwwhat’s h-happened to me?!”

“Yes! Yes! That’s it!” The hooded mare celebrates. “After all these years, and so many attempts, ‘you’ out of them all can speak!”

“What do you mean? What’s going on?! This is a dream, it just has to be!”

“Oh no my dear, I assure you it is not. That is why I need you to focus, and listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you. The spell I have branded you with cannot be broken by any means.”

“What?!”

“Unless! You can fulfill one simple task for me in return, as I am the only one that can break the spell.”

“W-What task?”

“There is an island, far from here, that houses and contains every oddity from this land. It is under the control of the monarchs that rule Equestria in an attempt to rehabilitate and domesticate them, so that they can one day roam the land without being considered a threat. At least, that’s what they say. No creature is ever freed from that prison. You must find the one that stands on two, and body bare. Free it, and bring it back here to me. Complete this task, and I will break the spell.” The hooded mare reaches back into the pocket of her cloak, and pulls out a lump of dried leaves in her hoof. “You must hurry, as time has already run thin.” She holds it up to her muzzle, and blows the leaves out from her hoof and towards Trixie. They begin swirling around her, creating strong gusts of wind.

“Wait! Where do I find this place?!” Trixie shouts.

“That is something you must find out on your own! And do not think about running off and revealing our deal to anypony else! It wouldn’t be very wise, as I will be keeping a careful eye on you!” The leaves and winds are now reaching intense speeds, and again, Trixie’s vision is overcome by a flash of white.