Chapter 35: The Mountain Pass

The Shetland Isles were a dangerous place to even the hardiest of ponies. Between the Bogs, the wolves, and other things it was the kind of place that could make or break adventurers. It was worse for beings that believed their technological and magical superiority gave them a form of invincibility. Off of the Isle of Goats was a smaller isle. It was barely big enough for a single home, a small beach, and a single pine tree that somehow managed to hang onto life. The house had long since fallen into disrepair. It’s pink exterior was peeling, the windows were covered in what looked like mold, and the house sagged terribly toward the side.

To look at it one would believe that it didn’t belong among the stronger houses of the Shetlands. It wasn’t made from stone, built to withstand onslaught by natural predators, and most who believed that would be right. The house didn’t belong. It had been built ages ago by Jolie Maison’s first born daughter. She’d been given the land, and she wanted to build a house in the style of the homes her father had talked about.

She had raised her foals and grandfoals there, but slowly her line returned to the Isle of Goats, leaving the small isle to itself. Once a year some of her great great grand foals would go over, do what they could to keep the house standing, touch up the paint, clean the windows, and look after their great great grandmare’s belongings. The return of the wolves had stopped that. For two years the house sat abandoned, and in that time nature was more determined than ever to reclaim it. For a single member of an ill-fated extraction, team it was a blessing. She stumbled into the room, the rest of her team had been ripped apart by giant fucking birds.

Birds as big as the fucking statue that stood outside of the capital of the Terran Empire. Birds that had talons so sharp that they ripped through armor without a second thought. For some reason they left this tiny island alone, and so she found shelter in the house. Her armor was ruined, the mana battery had to be ripped out, thrown away. Luckily, one of the birds had caught it in its beak and the explosion of magical energy had killed the damned thing. Thoughts of becoming a refugee filled her mind. It was insane, and she knew it, but at this point she’d rather have some male Equestrian sticking his cock up her arse than go back to the Empire.

As it was her own uniform was ruined. A long gash that had the last of her healing supplies applied to it ran up her arm. The talon from one of those giant birds, and it had nearly taken the arm. She looked at the gash which was closing up, pulling together, and finally leaving a thin scar in its wake. She had no top, her pants were split, and the only thing that seemed to be okay were her boots. There had to be a better life than obeying the will of that woman and going somewhere to die. Someplace where her life wasn't a choice between obdeicne and suicide. She took off her boots, removed the pants, and put them with the ruined top. Left only in socks and panties, shivering because of the cold of the ocean still clinging to her, she explored the house.

The first twenty minutes allowed her to discover that this house had been well built, well designed, and seemed to reflect a style of building that would make some of the empire green with envy. Each weight supporting beam was notched and inserted into another beam that ran between the ceiling and the floor of the second story. There were six rooms from what she could tell. A kitchen which surprisingly had food, a large entertaining room, a washroom that doubled as the latrine, and then three rooms upstairs.

The last room was the largest, and in it she found clothes that would work. They appeared to be moderately civilized clothes, and she pulled them on. They were loose, but at least her breasts wouldn’t be swaying for the world to admire. She stepped down to the kitchen, found what looked to be jars of preserves, and found one that had a reddish tint to it. She opened the jar, sniffed, and was rewarded with the smell of some kind of berry. It wasn’t strawberries, after all she’d managed to sneak one of those before, but regardless the berries were sweet with a minor tart taste to them.

She finished the preserves, found the sink, and realized that there was a water pump here much like there had been when she was a child. She looked at the sink, used the handle on the pump, and filled the sink with water. She then cleaned out the jar, found a towel, and dried it out before sitting it to the side. Once that was done she drained the sink and wiped it down. So much had changed for her since she was a child. She had lived a life of ease with her father and mother, although Grigori Rasputin, the court sage, set her on edge much of the time. He was almost rat like, hiding in the shadows, wringing his hands, speaking lowly in words she couldn’t understand.

It wasn’t that night, with torches blazing, shouts booming down the corridors of the palace, then the bright flash and she was alone in what looked like a barren wasteland that she realized what he had been. He’d been a wizard, a sorcerer, an evil enchanter, and someone that had ensured that her life wouldn’t matter. She’d wandered that barren landscape for three days before someone found her, took her past a funny shaped rock, and once they were past it she saw a huge and sprawling city. She was fed, put into an orphanage, and reminded on a daily basis that her life didn’t matter.

Standing in this kitchen, in this home, she decided that her life did matter. Perhaps she was now longer the little princess of her homeland, but she was a Romanov, and she would stand proud. Her first decision would be to leave the empire behind. It did nothing for her, or rather the only thing it did was attempt to find new and painful ways for her to die. She would live a life on her own terms, and if the empire came after her she would ensure they regretted it.

She stepped outside and looked across the water at the large piece of land. There was a ship docked, roads that looked as if they headed toward a village, and it was her decision to head there next. This house had been a shelter when she needed it, and while she had a feeling the owner was long dead it would not do to leave it as it was. Before she left, she would clean, repair, and restore it. After all, it was only good manners to leave a place in a better condition than how she found it. A lesson pounded into her by her instructors in House Praetorian. With her decision made, she spent the rest of the day alternating between finding the tools and materials she needed to repair the house to actually repairing the house. Floorboards were secured, replaced, and tested before she moved on. The walls were scrubbed and repainted as was the outside.

It had been a surprise to her to find paint in the exact shade of the house stored inside of the shallow basement, but she didn’t question it once. Piece by piece, bit by bit, the house was repaired to its former glory. On the dawning of the third day she looked at the house and marveled at its simple beauty. It had been a functioning wonder. Such a simple design, yet one that proved to last well beyond what was believed. The plumbing for example was pure simplicity itself, and yet it was perfectly functional. She was so caught up in appraising her work that she nearly didn’t notice the small boat docking.

She turned to see a few equestrians, and a human like her. Oh, he had signs of battle. Missing fingers, scars where wounds had been seared shut, places that looked as if bits of meat had been torn away and chewed. She stood proud, they would not see fear in her eyes, but she would submit to them. This was the plan anyway.

He walked toward her, “You have a single chance to explain what you are doing at my niece’s home.”

She studied him, “This was the home of a young human girl?”

One of the Equestrians glared at her, “Na ye glaikit boot. This wis th' hame o' Honey Shine. She wis th' daughter o' Jolie Mason, th' hero o' th' isles. His adopted mither is th' identical as th' prince o' th' isle's mither. Noo, whit urr ye daein' in her hame!”

The human male touched her, “Gracious Harvest, I’m sure she has a good explanation,” he said, “And for your sake, I hope that you do. Gracious Harvest is Honey Shine’s Great Great Granddaughter. As such, she is my great great great grandniece.”

She studied him for a moment, “Just how old are you?” she asked, “Because if that was the case you would be ancient by this time.”

He laughed, “My brother was gone for about two centuries before I came along, but he was my brother, this house and small island belonged to his daughter, my niece, and as such I feel it to be my responsibility to ensure that it is not harmed. I believe that he would have done the same for me.”

The Equestrian, Gentle Harvest continued to glare at her, “Ye'r damned richt he wid hae, 'n' he wouldn't hae taken kindly tae some flat faced fud licker pumpin' wi' his niece's hame!”

She studied the Equestrian for a moment more. Her wings were stiff, almost threatening, her body language told of an impending fight, and she understood all too well what it was likely she was going through. It had been over a decade since she had been ripped from her world and sent to this one, but the thoughts of someone messing with her home, with her father’s room, with her mother’s things, it set her on edge.

It was the same for this Equestrian.

“I did not harm the house, but I did make repairs,” she said calmly, “I am certain that the things I did would have been the same kind of repairs that Ms. Shine would have done were she here.”

The soft golden coated, green maned, and hard blue eyed winged Equestrian studied her for a moment and finally closed her arms up under her breasts, “If juist yin, juist yin boord is broke, windae cracked, or even a scrape is oan her flair ah will come keekin fur ye.”

She nodded, and then she looked back at the human. There was no doubt in her mind that he was the one they were sent after, the one referred to as The Mark, sometimes as The Lost One. She didn’t didn’t quite understand why he was referred to in this way and she didn’t rightly care. He didn’t look anything like she had expected, but then she imagined that he’d faced some of the terrors of these isles in a sort of trial by fire. Not that it mattered. She wasn’t doing anything that the Empire wanted. She had no reason to take him back, she had no reason to go back. There was no family for her back in the Empire. She wasn’t sure what happened to her family, to her father, mother, sisters or brother.

Whatever it had been that Grigori Rasputin had done it had saved her life, and she had the intention of living her life to the fullest. Her time in the Empire had been hard, and she was treated like a trained dog. Come when commanded, mate when commanded, withhold all emotion, show no fear, show no cowardness, and only show the hard exterior that was the representation of the empire itself.

She didn’t want that life anymore, and while it appeared as her former prey’s life was hard, he looked happy. How long had it been since she had been happy? When she was a girl she had pretend tea parties, her mother had helped her pretend that she was going to be married, and she loved it. Fantasies of finding a man that she not only would love, but liked, had been her dearest fantasy when she was a girl. To find someone as caring as her father, but who held themselves in their own way.

The fantasy was not to be. When she turned eighteen she was brought before state, tested, determined that she would be a soldier, and then she was introduced to the man that would be her genetic partner. He was a bully, a spiteful and vengeful man. They were not to be one until after she had completed all of the required missions, but he didn’t care. He stole what was never his to take. She hated him. She despised him, and she was glad to see him terminated for doing so.

The empire was many things, but it was a power that did not tolerate disobedience. They had ways of finding the truth, and she suffered the interrogation in order to see him terminated. As his genetic partner it was her choice how it happened. She remembered her father talking about hangings, about how it was reserved only for the worst offenders. She saw him hung from the highest point in the empire. Left to rot, left as a reminder that disobedience would not be tolerated.

It wasn’t that he had harmed her, that he forced himself upon her, if he would have waited such would have been awarded to him. Instead it was that he disobeyed the orders of waiting until she was to be taken from the active roster and placed upon the roster for breeding. The words of their commander were clear. He had damaged empire property, disobeyed a direct order, and brought shame upon the corps. The only route to save his honor was through death.

She was informed that she would be assigned another genetic partner later, one that was compatible with the last, and honestly there was no real reason she wanted to return. Instead she focused on what would come to be now. Despite the winged Equestrian remaining primed for a confrontation that she had no desire to take part in she willingly followed them. Before she had been prepared to cross the water by swimming, but now she was being taken by boat. Well, rather she would be taken by boat. First they checked the house, ensuring that nothing was out of place.

She saw the winged Equestrian relax finally, and although it wasn’t vocalized she understood the apology. It was easy to accept, and so she did. She followed them onto the boat, and she answered what questions she could. During the ten minutes of fighting water currents she explained the reason her armor was destroyed, talking about the giant birds, which were called Rocs apparently, and she also explained that her team had attempted to tread water in order to come to the isles.

She further explained that most of her team had been torn to shreds by the birds, that she saw a single other attempt to make land, but she had doubts if she did. She herself had barely made it to the small isle before she finally was able to treat her wounds and allow exhaustion overtake her. When they docked she remained near the others as she got into the wagon. She graciously explained the mission, the reason behind it, or at least what she had knowledge of.

She did this twice more within the span of two hours. The next time was to a very large winged Equestrian that apparently had a place of power among the others, and the last was to an Equestrian that apparently was made of at least two of their tribes. She was familiar, and she realized that apparently she was her former prey’s mate.

“Not that we aren’t grateful,” Twilight Sparkle, princess of the Shetland Isles said, “But why are you willingly telling us everything? By your own admission your own kind will see you killed for doing so.”

She looked at her, “Your highness,” she said, bowing, “Once, I too was a princess, a different world, a different place, but my family ruled over a land. I was plucked from it, cast into an unforgiving world, and placed among the lowest of those that found me. I was treated as a trained dog, given no rights, nothing to look forward to, and no choice allowed to make for myself. Upon seeing how you treat others of my kind, what makes you think that I would want to go back? There is nothing for me there.”

Twilight looked at her and nodded, “I understand, and we will accept your plea for amnesty, but understand that you will be watched. It was not so long ago that your own team attempted to capture ponies who had done no wrong, attempted to capture my husband, and fired upon a ship owned by an Equestrian Citizen,” she said but held her hand up, “However, I am willing to look at each of those incidents as nothing more than a soldier following orders. Do not make me regret my decision.”

She nodded, bowed, and allowed herself to be escorted. Her life was now her own, and while she had to prove herself, it would not be a life spent under the tyranny of malevolent forces. As she left Twilight watched her be escorted out by two of their new guards. That was something she was still getting used to. She had guards now, royal guards, and they were as hardened as they came. All of them pledged their lives to protecting her, Endymion, and Pinkie Pie. And she believed each of them. She looked toward Endymion who was far more calm than he had been yesterday.

“Endy,” she said softly, “Do you think that I made the right call?”

He smiled, “Yes love,” he said with a kiss, “You made the right call. You made the right decision. Your time with your mother wasn’t wasted.”

He looked across the throne room, “I do wonder if we could get her to explain her armor, how it was created, and how to reproduce it.”

“Isn’t your armor that you had created and enchanted better?” Twilight asked, “I mean it doesn’t even require a mana battery.”

“Yepporini it is!” Pinkie exclaimed as she walked into the throne room, “But he wants to know how hers was made for other ponies, huh?”

He gave a smile to his Earth Pony bride, “She’s not wrong. The armor I made is fantastic, but you are talking about some serious spell casting that took a lot of energy from several different unicorns, and myself, to create. If we could streamline it then it could potentially help more ponies.”

Twilight nodded, “I see,” she said as she rubbed her chin, “I won’t force her to do so though. If she tells us it needs to be a choice she makes on her own.”

Endymion nodded, and then he looked at his two brides. Their actions yesterday had confounded, and confused him. It had been a taboo, and then there was Fluttershy’s admittance about what had happened. That was another thing that made him question everything. It didn’t make him question what he thought was right. He certainly didn’t want to bed the Pegasus Priestess anytime soon, but it left him in a strange sort of limbo.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to move on, forgive and forget. Pinkie didn’t want to make him, and now Twilight didn’t want to make him do so either. Fluttershy apparently had decided to tell everyone, and it had ostracized her from everypony else. He felt some sympathy for her, he really did, but then her choices led to what happened. Thinking on it he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to forgive her. He didn't want to hate her, but there was simply no trust anymore. He wasn't sure there ever would be again. Regardless of what was going on there were two things he could depend on. The first was that Pinkie and Twilight loved him and he loved them, and the second was that his mother had prepared him for being a prince besides being a mage.

The lessons she spent on how to rule, what kind of decisions he would have to face, and the reasons for doing what they did hung in his mind. He had subjects before, but now on the isles they were his herd’s subjects. He couldn’t leave them alone, doomed to no help, and he wouldn’t even if that had been a choice. The armor itself had proven useful, and it certainly helped his mobility. Even Trixie’s enchantment she placed on it was useful. A normal enemy seeing a huge dragon in his place would certainly demoralize them.

While he was sure more traditional armor could be made, he didn’t want to risk anyone having magical burnout enchanting it. Maybe it was supposed to be like this anyway. He was supposed to face this alone, defeat the great evil here, and return as a hero. He couldn’t argue that it wasn’t within the realm of possibility. He felt a hug, Pinkie’s wonderfully soft, and large, breasts squeezed up between them.

“You won’t be alone,” she said with a giggle before she kissed him, “You’ll be taking our love with you, and that means we will be right there with you.”

He nodded, “I know,” he said, “And thanks for not getting upset that I wasn’t ready for what you two were up to.”

Pinkie smiled, giggled, and continued to hug him, “I’m not upset,” she said sweetily, “But I do want you to try and be open about it. Because I think ultimately it would be good for you.”

“How?” he asked, “How could that ultimately be good for me?”

She kissed his cheek, “Because you wouldn’t be the one tied up.”

He grinned, “I promise that I’ll try to be open, but Pinkie, that’s something that was used against my mother.”

She continued to hug him, “I know,” she said, “And I don’t want to force you to get past it. I want you to take your time. But that’s enough about that for today! What do you say we listen to the court, have some lunch, and then let you try to put a foal in Twilight and me?”

He shook his head, ready to hear another pony come to the court when one of their guards came in. He was a Pegasus, and he looked unsettled.

“Your highness,” he said as he bowed, “We found a mountain pass, the mountain pass, the one that Jolie Mason had used when he sealed the great evil before. And there on the pass we found the withered remains of a small unicorn filly. From what we could see she somehow managed to enter a small cave, and something sucked the life and magic from her. Sire, we believe this could be where the thing that controls the wolves is located.”

The news hit him hard. They knew where it could be at. If they were right then all of this could be over in hours. He could potentially undo the harm that was done, destroy the one responsible, and at the same time ensure a more peaceful existence for their ponies. In thought it wouldn’t be that difficult, but he understood that the difference between thought and reality were vast and great. He would need to prepare. He needed to ensure that when he went to face her he would have the upper hand. That meant taking time to be organized, and making sure that when he went he went as somepony prepared to do what had to be done.

He also knew that there would be no talking his friends out of it. Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and everypony else would want to be there with him. He wanted their help, but wanted to keep them safe. Maybe Charm could create some of those potions he had, and they could lob them from Captain Sparrow’s ship. If that was the case then it would be a simple matter of letting them deal with the wolves while he dealt with their master. That did seem to be the best answer. It would ensure that they were active in the battle, and at the same time it would help make sure that they weren’t facing something completely unprepared.

He knew that Applejack had been a soldier, once, but her armor was woefully inadequate for what they had to do. The other half was that there was a shortage of Lunar Pegasi here. Part of the reason he wanted to see if the new human to their company would tell him about her armor was that he believed that it had the magical ability to negate most of what the wolves could do through their more demonic forms. He wasn’t sure, not entirely, but there was a lingering memory of the armor, or armor like it, that had been able to withstand strange shadow creatures.

The wolves were much like they were. Odd, strange, and unsettling shadow creatures that seemed to promote fear and terror everywhere they went. If that was the case then it had to be for a reason. He stopped and considered how his mother had taught him to look at the problem. Much like Professor Flintheart she had said that all problems had a reason for existing. There was something that benefited from the problem being in place. So, what benefited? The wolves did, in a way, because it was harder for ponies to fight them. That couldn’t be the extent of it though. Something was obviously controlling them. If it was then there was a reason for the terror.

Ease of conquering the Shetlands? It was possible, but he doubted it. If he was a being that could control terror wolves, likely was at least a couple of centuries old, and had been biding his time, what would he be doing? Well, for one he would be getting revenge against the one that stopped him before. But it couldn’t just be revenge. It would be the best option to simply get the revenge and carry on, but whatever was behind this obviously wanted a show. It was likely a diva, and this was opening night.

His eyes widened, “Oh Tartarus,” he said, “I’ve got it.”

He looked at Twilight, “We need to get Captain Sparrow to get his ship in the air again. We need to see if Charm has had time to restock the potions from last time, and we need to end this tonight.”

She studied him, “What’s going on?”

He looked at her, “Twilight, whoever this is, whatever it is, had the chance to do us in. When it took control of Rarity it could have escaped, took her body, and been done with it, so why didn’t it?”

She looked at him, “I… I don’t know.”

He smiled, “Sure you do,” he said, “After all, the being that’s behind this has the same problem as Trixie. It wants a huge audience, and it wants to control everything. It needs a spectacle bigger than before, and what could be bigger than taking the stage and wiping every living thing from the Isles in one night?”

Her eyes widened, “You think that it wants to do that?”

He nodded, “It makes sense, doesn’t it?” he asked, “I mean think about it. It obviously has to do with power, but if it was just power than it could have taken the Isles a dozen times before now. It wants everyone to know that it was responsible, and that is going to make it over confident.”.

Shetland Isles - Bog Isle - Western Coast - deserted beachhead

Claire considered herself lucky. The rest of the extraction team had been made a meal by the giant birds that swooped over their dinghy. Their weapons barely made a scratch in their feathered hides and one by one, she saw her teammates get shredded and/or devoured. The sight would be a fixture in her night terrors for the rest of her life, she just knew it. She wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but one of the great beasts struck the boat and she was sent tumbling into the drink. She almost drowned, the shock of it all ruining a full decade of training, then she was struck by the dismembered arm of a fellow unfortunate dropping past her and she knew she had to move.

The swim, performed mostly underwater, was long, tedious, and slow. Every five or ten minutes, she would have to come up for a quick shot of air, then dive down as quickly as she came up to avoid the razor talons and steel beaks. The shoreline danced in front of her, a tease of safety, a mocking jeer of freedom, that spilled into her vision when she broke the surface of the water. And again, dive, dive, to avoid the gnashing and screeching. Claire could remember the frog crawls she did in Basic, swinging knee and elbow for purchase in the fresh mud and her swim towards the shore reminded her fiercely of that.

A minute felt like hours, and an hour felt like days, but when her hand struck sandy surf, she could see sun, occluded as it was by the island’s permanent overcast. A gasping breach of the surf and Claire was on solid ground again, though frigid, waterlogged, and frightened out her mind. A quick peel back at the ocean revealed the fate of her team. (Former team, she reasoned, but if the team leader and the XO were dead, along with the other members what did it mean for her?) She struggled up the beachhead, her sodden uniform weighing her down more than Gohan’s Triple Death By Chocolate Cake, and plopped herself on the warmest spot of sand she could find. Her muscles ached terribly after such a long swim and left was ringing something awful. In spite of pain her body was in, she raised a hand to that side and snapped her fingers. Nothing…! She could hear a blessed thing in that ear. The chill of the ocean and all the water that filled her ear canal was the probable culprit for her hearing loss, at least she hoped it was.

Her armor, such as it was, hadn’t come away unscaved. She felt fortunate that it was still functional, to some degree, but in truth it would be classified as non-salvageable. TAC HLHUD was still functional, if slightly garbled, and sensors were giving sweeps of her vicinity and all points adjacent. The servos worked like they should but there would be no telling how they might function once the water evaporated. Might rust through, she thought, The loss of it would be ticked against her, and she understood what that meant.

The beach she was on was huge, massive, and sprawling. It made her wonder exactly how large this section was. There were no houses, so no need to worry about the Equestrians, but then a lack of civilization meant more trouble in surviving. She sighed, looked at the area, and took a step. Her foot sunk instantly. Her eyes widened as it became her calf. She tried to wrench it back, to force her armored leg from where it was, but it wouldn’t be let go of. Instead she activated the emergency ejection, and felt the armor practically vomit her from its back. She landed away from it, and watched as it sunk into the muck.

The battery core in it would be at least another two years of free service upon what had to be twelve years of free service for the armor alone. There was no direction, no team, and she was alone on an unknown terrain. The one benefit was that the giant birds seemingly wanted nothing to do with the piece of land she’d landed on. A chill filled her, and she turned to see a phantom figure not far off. It looked to be female, and from what she could see it was pleasant to look upon. She moved toward it, slowly, and it faded.

“Hello?” she called out, trying to catch noise with her one working ear, “I’d like to negotiate a peaceful resolution.”

The thought made her squirm. Peaceful negotiations normally meant that she had backup, heavily armed backup, and they made sure the other side agreed to whatever the fuck the Empire wanted. Right now they could tell her to drop trowel, bend over, and take it hard. She was armorless, weaponless, without backup, without intel, and all she had was what she was wearing. Was this the moment it all fell apart? If she ever did get back, she would find that Kirk bitch, and kick her ass into the next century, the next millennium if she could help it.

She watched her step, not wanting to lose any of her clothes to any more of the surprise pitfalls. At least it had been fairly easy to identify. A large section of vegetative growth, with a slightly muddy exterior, and inside of the vegetative growth was some kind of well or mudfall, or something that wouldn’t let go. She wasn’t sure of the time, of how long it was taking, and the only thing she knew was the sight of the phantom figure. It would appear for a few moments, seemingly rubbing a chin, watching her, and then it would be gone.

The last time she’d seen it she could tell it was Equestrian. She was many things, but among them wasn’t someone that was closed minded about beauty. The figure was beautiful. Full hips and breasts, slightly thick thighs, a waist that was suited for an academic more than a warrior, and the curly hair that she wore was practically divine. If she had been human she would have rushed harder toward her. Such a specimen was one that fit into her personal tastes. Like most others of her station she was required to be listed on the breeding que, and she hated it. Looking on the bright side, if the hearing loss she was now suffering from were to become permanent, she might be removed from the queue. Fat chance of that happening, though.

She personally didn’t like sleeping with men. They were rough, brutish, uncaring, and often looked after their pleasure instead of anyone else’s. A woman was different. She understood they need to be cared for, to be caressed, loved, and worshiped. A woman that looked like the one she’d seen would be perfect. A new instrument to be learned, but there were two strikes against her. She was an Equestrian, and she wasn't real.

She moved toward the taller vegetation, and as she did something touched her. She turned, and saw what she thought was a branch from a fallen tree. Moss covered it, the spinney little limbs that stuck out from it had latched onto her clothes, and she tried to pull them free. A moment later she pulled and there was a sound of a sucking noise, almost as if something was being ripped from the mud.

“Where are you off too?”

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

“Someone there?”

“Someone, such a cute phrase,” the voice said, “I prefer somepony, but then again, I am biased.”

The sucking noise increased and what had been a branch ended up being the skeletal remains of an Equestrian. Bits of moss, mud, frayed cloth and decayed tissue clung to it. And it was not alone. More and more skeletal remains emerged from all around the thicket, bust from the ground in sprays of sod, or slipping out of the bogs that filled the clear ground near her. Claire could feel it, clutching at her already damaged uniform, rending new tears into the cloth as she tried to evade the grasping, skeletal hands.

"Come now," the sultry voice said, "This is hardly the way to greet your new goddess."

With only half her hearing, she only heard the word “goddess.”

“G-goddess?” Claire asked, thinking this figure now to be thoroughly mad, “That can’t be right. The gods are dead. They were petty, worthless, and worst of all, useless. We struck them down in Days of Yore. ‘Each according to their station, all without exception.’ We have no need of ‘gods.’”

Whatever she expected to happen, hearing the sound of cackling from the voice wasn’t it. The cackling was as if the owner of the voice had heard perhaps the single greatest joke of all time.

“Foal, no it’s child for your kind, isn’t it?” the voice asked, “Not that it matters, but you did not kill all of the gods and goddess, for I am here, and I am the goddess of Death. Rejoice, for I have come to free you from your sad, pathetic, and worthless life. You will become part of me, part of something greater, isn’t that wonderful?”

“No,” she whimpered, “It’s not!”

She pulled hard, feeling the uniform rip, her breasts, her skin, her more delicate features were bare for all to see, but it didn’t matter. She found herself free of the grasp of that thing, and she ran. The mud was thick, hindering the reanimated corpses following her as much as it was herself, but she didn’t stop. Self preservation drove her forward, the belief that she could see another day drove her forward.

She saw the beach, and slightly off in the distance there was a small boat. It was full of Equestrians, some were flyers, others looked to be without horns, and most were fishing. She prayed that they would hear her.

“Help me!”

A stray winged one swooped down, and then his wings settled into a more defensive stance. She felt arms around her, his wings flapped, and he lifted into the air.

He heard the voice, now enraged at them, “MINE!” it screamed, “SHE WAS MINE!”

He flew toward the boat, and she found herself deposited near an empty section full of what looked like fish. One of the ponies looked at her, and then at the number of corpses that began to walk toward the water only to fall to pieces the moment they stepped off of the beach.

“Don’t worry,” the sultriness of the voice returned, “I will find you again, my pet.”

She looked at the Equestrians that seemed to wordlessly speak to one another. Soon the ship had turned, and they were heading toward another bit of land.

“Dinna fash yirsel lassy, we wull tak' ye tae th' castle, 'n' a'm sure th' Princess wull keek efter ye.”

She nodded, watched as the bit of land she had been on disappeared, and soon they docked on a larger island. She was helped toward a wagon, along with several baskets of fish, and the Equestrians began moving. Her eyes closed, and she saw the fertile looking Equestrian she had seen earlier. Her smile wasn’t warm and inviting. It was cold and cruel. She seemed to move toward her, until the wagon crossed the castle. When that happened the vision stopped. She barely listened as the fisher… It wasn’t men, so Equestrians, told others what had happened, and soon she stood, bare, completely bare, before a winged Equestrian that had a horn.

“For now you are safe,” she said, “And I promise that you will not be turned away, but I have questions to ask you. Questions about what you were doing, what your kind was doing, and what your plans were for my husband.”

She hung her head, “My name is Claire O’Neal, Rank of Praetor Decurion, EE135972G,” she said before bowing, “Your highness.”

Twilight rubbed right below her horn, “Please, one of you have already told us a great deal, and she did so openly without being asked.”

She whimpered, “I cannot,” she said, “All I am allowed to say is that my name is My name is Claire O’Neal, Rank of Praetor Decurion, EE135972G.”

Twilight nodded, “Very well, you will be kept, but monitored. You will be fed, but restricted to the castle only, and only with an escort. Do you understand?”

She nodded, and she felt something draped across her. Her eyes looked up to see a simple dress in some kind of energy form.

“Please, put this on, and we will see that you are escorted to the bath.”

Author's Note

Just one more chapter before the big throw down! Please be waiting for it. (Japanese bow.)