Dark Hooves

A blood red earth pony sat in a windowless room lit only by a small ember in a makeshift fire pit.  A handful of matted black hairs barely covered his head, almost as if a foal took a black crayon and drew poorly on a bald pony's head.  The outlines of muscles and tendons were visible under the thin remainder of flesh and fur he still retained.  His black tail was nothing more than a stump of hair that could be the tip of a small paintbrush.  The wretched creature stared blankly with sunken eyes past the ember where a smaller pony lied under a lopsided square wooden table, a pony who looked just like he did, but smaller and laying on its side, barely lifting its chest when taking weak breaths.

As he stared at the pony under the table, a memory recalled within his heart, a memory that he could not put vision to.  It was the memory of a partnership by birth, and of a moral duty.  What duty did he have to this weak creature in front of him?

He stood up and walked over to the other pony, hoping for some sort of memory to come back to him.  He's seen this pony laying here for almost a month now, but knows not who he is or why his presence gives him some sense of comfort.  He gently nosed the smaller pony's flank, but to no response.  He looked at the other pony's cutie mark.  It was fire in the shape of a hoof print.  The image brought a familiar memory to his heart.  The memory of this icon of darkness bringing  terror and hatred to the world around him.  He began recalling past experiences he had with this icon.  Memories of excruciating pain, visions of unimaginable torture, sights of beasts of great horror and strength that no pony could challenge.  Perhaps these were the only visual memories he had left.

He looked up at the dark wooden walls surrounding him.  The weak light flickered upon a cracked photo frame that barely hung on the wall.  The photo was only partly there, showing only the lower half of its torn original content behind broken glass.  He could see two bright red earth ponies with spiky black manes smiling, the slightly larger one wrapping its arm around the smaller one and pulling him close.  The two blue-eyed ponies brought a memory of joy to his weak heart, and he reached up grab the photo to examine it closer.  He removed the photo from the broken frame and held the torn picture closer, stroking along the image of the smaller pony as if he felt something precious towards whoever it was.

As he looked closer at the photo, he noticed the legs of an even larger bright red pony and the legs of a bright blue pony behind the two joyful ponies.  He remembered love and admiration.  He then remembered a strong sense of worry, followed by grief...a heart wrenching grief.  Then he remembered anger...no, hatred.  The memory was intense enough to drive him to stomp repeatedly on the torn photograph with unrelenting rage, only to toss it into the dying ember to shrivel up and turn to ash.  His memories faded once more, and he returned to lay by the only other pony he's dared to be around.

As weak as his mind had become, he did remember something important...the world around him became too dangerous to travel in.  The pain of dying was not meant for ponies to experience more than once, but now everypony is experiencing it again and again and again.  He too has died many times, only to return to this small ember that never seems to burn out.  Now he waits here next to the fire, weakened and broken, waiting for death to come again and again until he becomes Hollow, just like the fiends outside of the room he was in.

As he stared blankly at the ember next to the smaller pony, he began hearing metal clanging outside.  He lifted his head and looked at the wooden door across from him.  The clanging began to mix in with groaning and hissing, and soon an audible feminine yell could be heard.  He approached the door and carefully pushed it open, peeking just through the crack he made as daylight flooded the room he was in with light.

A pony donning steel armor was fighting several hollow ponies.  It was using a straight sword in its mouth and swinging it at the oncoming hollows.  The armored pony was methodical with its strikes, only attacking when one hollow was close, and backing off whenever they were about to all attack at once.  He began remembering his encounters with the hollow ones, and how they had cut hit open before.  They were the cause of a lot of the pain that he remembered.  He wanted to help the armored pony.  He knew that the hollow ones would only attack those with any sense of self left, and the armored pony must have some sort of purpose, but fear kept him still.

The fighting went on for a short time before the hollow ones finally laid motionless on the grass outside, some in pieces.  The armored soldier dropped its sword on the ground and soon collapsed on its side, seemingly motionless.  The blood red pony was confused.  How did this armored who so elegantly took care of several hollow ones be lying still as if defeated after such an impressive victory?  Was the pony already injured?  He slowly walked outside of the small room he was in to the outdoors, approaching the fallen pony.  He walked around slowly to be in the eyesight of the armored pony.  He sat down, hoping to show the armored pony that he meant no harm, but was only curious.

"Hey...you're not Hollow yet, are you?" said the armored pony.  She sounded tired, and was definitely the source of the female yell he heard before.  The voice almost sounded familiar, but not even his heart could feel a memory this time.

"Hey...listen.  I'm dying...and I can't do this anymore..."  her weak voice sounded as if she was sorrowful, or ashamed.  "Normally it's up to us, but this...this cannot be for us, this time.  I'll soon go Hollow, as did most of the others."  She moved her head slightly, seeming to look directly at the blood red pony that came to see her.  She then looked towards the small wooden house that he came from.  "I think I remember you...aren't you...Drake?"  The blood red pony did not respond to her, for he did not know who he was.  "Yes...that's it, isn't it?  Oh, Drake..."  She stopped herself short of what sounded like was going to be a lot more to be said.

The armored pony looked at Drake again, and reached into a small bag that she had next to her.  She pulled out a golden horseshoe and threw it weakly in Drake's direction.  He approached the horseshoe and grasped it in his hoof, examining it closely.

As he held the horseshoe, he felt strength returning to his body.  His flesh began to thicken, covering the muscles and tendons completely.  His black spiky mane returned, and his eyes were a beautiful bright blue.  His tail extended to a natural size, curling downward and reaching halfway between the ground and his hind quarters.  The horseshoe began to fade away, and then he looked upon his healthy looking hooves.  He felt strong again and had much energy.

"I remember now...my Drake".  The female pony sighed quietly before continuing on with a tone of urgency.  "Drake...find Twilight.  She headed to Canterlot to find a cure.  I worry for her..."  She laid her head down on the grass, looking off into the trees of the Everfree that lie behind Drake.  "Take my armor and sword..."  She let out what sounded like a weak whimper.  "I'm sorry...".

As Drake approached the armored soldier, he heard her gasp her last breath.  He saw what looked like ashes spilling out from the tiny cracks in the armor and rose high into the sky.  As he watched, he felt an emotion, one that was not his own.  He felt great sorrow, loneliness, and...pride.

As the ashes faded off into the distance past the treetops of the Everfree, he looked down at the pony who laid there, lifeless.  He gently pulled off the helmet, wanting to see who she was, only to find that the helmet was empty.  He quickly discovered that the entire suit of armor was empty.  He then saw that the hollow bodies around him were not fading into ash.  Was this what dying has become for ponies who were not yet Hollow, but cursed?  Is she returning home?  He found it hard to be awestruck or afraid of what he was seeing, as this is what his reality had been for quite some time.

Drake wasn't sure why, but he was compelled to obey the fallen pony's command.  Perhaps any sense of purpose was enough to drive him forward, now.  He began to put on the armor that she left behind.  The leggings and boots fit nicely, but before he put on the body armor he noticed the midriff sections on the inside were covered in blood.  The blood filled him with yet another memory that was not his own.  It was a memory of great panic and pain.  It was also a memory of loss of something precious...perhaps livelihood.  What sort of weapon could cause so much damage through steel armor?  Was it magic?  Was the armor an afterthought?

He donned the armor, and then the helmet.  He picked the sword up by the hilt and swung his neck side to side, practicing swinging the light blade in every direction.  Once he felt a bit more comfortable with the blade, he looked at the sides of his armor, searching for a sheath or a buckle so he could travel without having a sword in his mouth the whole time.  He could not find anything until he searched underneath him, and around his upper chest and near his midriff he found what looked like two handles to kitchen drawers.  Perhaps these handles were an addition for holding this weapon.  Drake turned his head sideways and began working the sharp blade underneath him.  The blade was smaller than the handle, but it managed to stop right at the hilt where he could still easily crane his neck down to pull the sword back out.  The tip of the blade just barely reached the other drawer handle.  Was there something larger that this armor was meant to hold?

Drake sat down on the ground and rummaged through the bag the female warrior left behind.  There were green herbs, apples, a couple rubies, and four more of those golden horseshoes.  He picked the bag up and fastened it to a small nook on the side of his armor.  As he began to let go of his grip of the bag, the scent of the herbs filled his nose, a delightful scent that gave a quick burst of energy to him.  He almost felt happy for a moment.  What were those herbs?  He decided it was best to get more information on them before he began experimenting with what could be a poison.  He knew all too well about traps.  The memory of how he died slowly to a delicious red berry in the Everfree made him cautious.

He was ready to head out, but first took a look at his surroundings, for he no longer remembered where he was.  He looked towards where the sun was, which he remembered was always in the direction of where the Princess of Sunlight resides, Canterlot.  Far in the distance, he could see a speckle of an outcropping from a tall mountainside.  That iconic image he had remembered from childhood when he once lived in a land closer to the capitol city could still be recognized from further away.  It was Canterlot.  In his path towards Canterlot laid a dark forest that once was one of few places in the world where weather and wind moved untamed by the weather pegasi, the Everfree Forest.  Now, that seemed to be normal for everywhere around him.  Only the Sun and the Moon seemed to be controlled still, hinting at a glimmer of hope to the end of this nightmare.  Perhaps the two sisters are working on the solution...or are they welcoming it?  Drake could not ponder this for too long.  He had new hope, now.  He had hope to drive him forward in these cruel times.

As he stood up and began walking towards the dark forest, he paused to look back at the small wooden shack that had been his home for such a long time.  The memories he felt there he knew were his own, and they gave him a sense of calm, a sorrowful peace.  He thought of the pony who had laid nearly lifeless under the table for the time he has waited there.  Maybe at the end of this journey he'd find answers, or perhaps a cure to this dreadful curse.  He walked forward again, heading into the dark forest to face the dangers ahead and to find Twilight.

Far in the distance, just before he entered the darkness that not even the bright sunlight could penetrate, Drake saw a red speck flying around a tall mountain to the left of where Canterlot was.  He watched it circle the mountain several times before it seemed to hold still.  He gazed for a short time before finally entering the forest.  He felt unsettled at the thought of what he saw.  It seemed the red speck he saw was getting larger, or perhaps closer.