Dark Hooves

The bugs of the forest were loud like Cicadas in the summer.  They welcomed the eternal night that the thick forest trees were able to bring in this part of the forest.  No path had been built here, as no pony dared try to make one this deep into the forest.  This was where the most dangerous creatures would reside.  The bodies of small animals and the bloodstains of creatures fleeing from an attack were splattered here and there along the forest floor, a chilling reminder of what kind of foul, untamed place this accursed forest is.

Drake held his sword in his mouth, chopping through dense brush and brambles that blocked his way forward.  He avoided any steep hills and bulging tree roots that he could, not wanting to stumble or get lost as he moved in the same direction.  He would carefully cut lines along the sides of certain trees where he approached from, using that as his tracker to find his way back, or to get back on track if something happens where he loses his focus on navigation.  The chirping of the bugs muffled any noise he made, so he didn't have to creep, but at the same time he knew that monsters could creep up on him and he'd never know until it was too late.  While always moving forward, he had to keep careful watch around him for traps and ambushes.

He slashed through some thick brambles to reach a small clearing.  There he could see the backside of what looked like a winged raptor, the head of the smaller beast hidden inside some brush.  Drake held completely still, observing the creature for a short time.  In the darkness he could not be certain of the color, and he figured it might have been a very young dragon.  Dragon youth did not worry him too much, as he remembered recent encounters with some.  They act tough, but once their opposition sizes them up, they run to their parents or hiding places with their spiny tales tucked between their legs.

Drake crept closer to the creature, wanting to see if it might even be a friend, but knew to be ready to strike at the first sign of trouble.  His head was tilted down, teeth clamped on the hilt of his blade.  His heart began to race with excitement and worry.  Then something startled him, something unexpected.

Just as he began to pull out his sword, he heard the screeching call of a cockatrice coming from the bush.  It spotted him, and it was ready to attack.  The screeching call was louder than the noisy bugs of the forest, and even silenced their chatter to but a whisper.  Drake turned his head quickly and ran from the cockatrice, desperately looking for a place to run.  But it was too dark for him to see any sort of path, and he was stumbling over roots and brambles.  The cockatrice's running footsteps were gaining on him.  Drake knew he had to fight.  He knew he had to fight blind, but perhaps in this dark forest he already had to be blind to navigate.  With his sword in his mouth, he stopped in his tracks, eyes firmly shut as he listened to the approaching assailant.

The cockatrice screeched again, foolishly confirming to Drake exactly where the head of the beast was.  With a loud grunt, Drake brought his hind legs up to where his forelegs were, and he kicked his forelegs sideways, swinging his head and upper body outward with all the force he could muster.  As his body quickly rotated around so that he was facing the opposite direction of where he previously was facing, he swung his head hard, the sword cutting the air into ribbons.  Drake's heart was racing so quickly that his attack felt as if it was lasting an entire minute.

...contact...

Drake felt the gentle resistance of flesh pushing back against the sword he wielded, and then shortly he felt no resistance again.  The screech became a quick shriek before a moment of silence...then a quiet thud on the ground, then the louder thud of the creatures weight dropping to the ground.  Drake kept still for a short time, finding it hard to breathe in his confining armor, but afraid to ever remove his protection.  He slowly opened his eyes, carefully turning his gaze in the direction where he heard the two thuds on the ground.

Laying motionless on the ground was the body of the cockatrice, colorless in the darkness, but clearly outlined against the grass and dirt it laid on.  Nearby, a small cylindrical shape laid still with what appeared to be an open beak.  Drake quickly averted his eyes from the severed head of the cockatrice, not daring to chance that their power would not last beyond the grave.  He began to calm down, relishing in his first victorious battle with a dangerous creature.  It gave him hope for overcoming the trials that surely lied ahead.  He looked around where he was, finding a familiar pile of severed brambles in the clearing.  This is where he entered from, so he knew he could continue from here.  He approached the broken brambles and backed into the pile, looking forward where he saw a familiar bush where the cockatrice once foraged, or searched for something.  Curiosity consumed him.  With sword still in mouth, he approached the bush, looking into a small crack in the bushes.  A beam of beautiful, warm sunshine found its way into the forest, illuminating the horror that lied beneath the bush.

The hind quarters of a pony laid in a pool of tried up blood, the two chewed up and mangled legs revealing dead tissue and bones closer to the hooves.  Drake would have thought this could have been any creature from the forest, perhaps prey that had its entire upper body already feasted on, but he knew it was a pony...because of its cutie mark.  He could not remember who it was.  The large green apple did not give him any recollection.  Drake peeked closer, looking for any signs of equipment or personal belongings that could aid him in his travels.  There was nothing.  He pulled his head out from the bush and looked towards to beautiful rays illuminating the forest, lighting a path forward.  The dark and foreboding trees became a beautifully lit brown bark, and welcoming leaves that swayed with the wind.  It was a peaceful sight that he was compelled to follow.  Drake cut through the bush, stopping over the remains of what was once one of his own.  He bowed his head respectfully before kicking up some dirt over the flesh, adding on top of it some of the bush he cut down.  As he buried the fallen pony, a memory filled his heart, a memory that he knew was his own, but did not know what it was for.  He remembered love and compassion, then he remembered hatred, but now a new feeling overcame him.  It wasn't a memory, but a feeling...guilt.  Did he make a mistake?  Did Drake know who this pony was?  Drake could not help but sit next to the dirt mound and cry.  He stayed there for almost thirty minutes, crying his heart out under the beautiful sunlight, almost as if the rays were revealing some sort of truth that would put and end to a darkness in his heart.

Drake eventually had to continue on, wiping his tears away and giving one final nod to the dirt mound.  The light from the sun began to fade, so he needed to take advantage of the light before it was gone.  He trotted forward swiftly, sword in mouth in preparation for danger.  He did not need to leave breadcrumbs now.  He just needed to follow the sunlight.

After about two-hundred paces, Drake came across the sight of another clearing in the distance, except this clearing had a building in the center.  However, a horrid sight of death lay between him and the landmark.

Hundreds of skeletons of ponies littered the ground, surrounding trees and covering the grass and leaves.  Several small groups of small skeletons huddled next to two larger skeletons were easily identified.  Drake could not believe what he was seeing.  Why were there so many bones here?  If the creatures of the forest were willing to eat the pony he saw earlier, then why were these ponies left alone to decompose completely?  As he stepped forward, trying to carefully get passed the bones, he started to cough violently.  He felt like he was drowning out of water.  He dropped his sword on the ground, slicing a small deteriorated leg bone in half.  He reached frantically for his helmet as he writhed on the ground, retching violently as he desperately tried to breathe.  He eventually was able to pull off the helmet, suddenly unable to even cough.  He felt as if he was completely unable to even try to breathe.  Panic overcame him as he held his throat tightly.  Was he dying?  it mattered not how many times he's died already, he was still not able to handle the pain and the stress involved.  No pony could...

He desperately tried to drag his numbing body away from the boneyard.  Something must be here that killed all those ponies, and he was about to join them.  However, he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.  He'd be reborn into this forsaken world, forced to either suffer, or keep moving forward in hopes for salvation.

His energy began to fade, muscles beginning to barely react to his frantic commands to save him.  He then remembered about the herbs in his bag.  He quickly pushed his nose into the bag, trying to smell the energy filling scent of that herb, but he still couldn't breathe, making sniffing impossible.  He quickly lolled out his tongue, barely able to grab one of those leaves, and pulled it into his mouth.  He chewed the strong-scented herb, at first weakly, but then more quickly.  Energy began to surge through his body.  He used that energy to pull himself further and further away from the boneyard, and eventually he began to cough hard...violently hard.  Crystals were launching out from him as he coughed, sharp shards covering the forest floor nearby him.  Breathing started to become easier, and eventually he lied still, recuperating from the ordeal as he heaved heavily under the tightly fitting armor.

After his short rest, he stood up shaking.  What horrible poison creates crystals inside of a pony's lungs?

He held his breath and quickly retrieved his sword and helmet, running away from the boneyard once again before breathing in the air again.  As he re-equipped his helmet and picked the sword back up in his mouth, he took yet another deep breath before holding it tightly.  He sprinted forward through the boneyard, eyes focused on the target ahead.  He just needed to reach that building...that hut in the middle of the forest.

As he stamped on the bones in his way, crushing each bone he hit to dust, memories that were not his own filled him.  But these memories had a blurry vision to them.

Hundreds of pony shaped shadow figures walked together toward a dark forest.  The mood was grim, a feeling of defeat.  As the ponies approached the dark forest, one dark figure stood in front of the forest.  It was the shadow of a pony, frantically yelling something at the large group.  After a long period of waiting, another shadow of a pony left the group to join the dark figure.  The mood became tense with dread, and then suddenly, the vision faded.

Drake made it passed the boneyard, reaching the entrance to the hut before gasping for air again.  Whatever poison was in the air in that boneyard was behind him now.  He was safe...for the most part.

He quietly stepped closer to the hut, sheathing his sword back under his belly as he reached up for the door handle.  He was quickly stopped by a female voice.  "Who's there...?"  Drake heard hoofsteps approaching the door before the voice continued.  "If you're looking for a cure, forget it!  If Zecora couldn't find it, then nobody can!"  The voice became distraught.  "Go away!  I only want to talk to my family again!"  Drake could hear the sorrowful sobs of the mare on the other side of the door.  She sounded full of life, but not a joyful life.  He gently knocked on the door, waiting patiently for the pony to invite him in of her own accord.

The door began to slowly creek open, but only to just a crack.  Peeking through the crack  was a yellow mare with orange beady eyes and a long flowing red mane.  The sight of this mare filled Drake with a memory of friendship.  He knew this mare, but he could not remember her.  "Your armor..."  Drake saw tears welling up in the beautiful mare's eyes, along with what looked to be a preparation for a scream, or perhaps a smile.  He assumed the armor was scaring her, but he did not want to take it off,  He settled for removing just the helmet, slowly working his head out from it.  He held the removed helmet under his foreleg as he looked back at the mare.  The mare's tears of what seemed to be joy given the smile she was starting to form turned into a look of horrified shock.  "Drake...?  But that means..."  The mare sat down in the doorway, looking down at her shaking hooves as tears renewed in her eyes.  This time, it was mourning.

As the mare cried, Drake could not help but approach her and hold her in a hug, letting the distraught mare bury her eyes in his neck.  Drake looked down, and noticed that familiar accursed sign adorning her flank.  She, too, was cursed.  He knew not what she was so upset about, but given how horrible the world had become, he felt pity for the cursed mare.

The mare raised up her head after crying for a short while, "Drake..."  She suddenly gasped, startling Drake.  Were they being attacked?  He quickly let go of her and was ready to draw his sword, but as he looked in the direction the mare was looking, he saw only the boneyard.  "No..."  The mare got to her hooves again and walked closer to the boneyard, stopping a safe distance from the bones as if she knew there was poison in the air there.  The sorrow she felt then nearly tore Drake's weak heart apart.  He could feel the anguish and the despair burning inside her.  Why did the boneyard make her feel like this?

"Zecora...why did you do it...?"  The mare sunk her head down, her voice becoming cold, as if all emotion in her body had disappeared.

"Why would you tell me to warn the others...only to betray me like this...?"  The mare turned to Drake, trotting towards him slowly before sitting in front of him, staring coldly as she spoke.  "Drake...I ran back into here from Ponyville after the town became infested with monsters and Hollows.  Zecora knew about this curse...but it seems she did not find a cure."  She looked off to the side for a moment.  "Or perhaps she did...  But it won't work for me, anymore...and given how quiet you are, I suppose you too are cursed."  Drake nodded his head, hoof holding up his helmet as he was about to put it back on.   He dared not be exposed for too long in this dangerous forest.

"I can't be weak anymore...I have nothing to lose now.  But I still need to take care of something important before I become Hollow."  The mare had a quiet determination in the midst of her grief.  Was she hollowing from grief alone?  Is that possible?  "Drake...please go to Sweet Apple Acres.  I hope to meet you there.  Perhaps together we can ease her heart."  Drake put his helmet back on and then watched the mare walk into the forest without another word.  Who was this mare?  What is at Sweet Apple Acres?  Drake knew that Ponyville was on the way to Canterlot, and perhaps by helping this mare he could earn a companion on this otherwise lonely journey.

Drake entered the now vacant hut.  Broken bottles and stains of varying colors covered the floor.  Furniture was upturned, and masks were piled in a corner opposite the entrance.  At the entrance, a few charms were adorned with phoenix feathers.  He could not find anything useful in the messy hut, but decided to check under the pile of masks.  He carefully lifted masks from the pile, finding a few loose phoenix feathers that he put inside of his bag.  After lifting the third to last mask, he saw a horrible sight.  The severed head of a Hollow zebra laid there...jaw still moving.