Author's Note

Notice any blatant plot-holes or spelling/grammar mistakes? Drop 'em down below! Or send a PM!
This is my first attempt at any real creative writing project, so don't roast me too hard, or do, I don't care

Lost

She ran.

She ran some more.

But then, she saw her. She was running in front of herself.

But still she kept running. Fighting, undying, fleeting. She ran her hooves raw, raw as her mother had left her coat when she didn't clean her room. Raw as her inside cheek from gnawing on it so much. Raw as her would-have-been sibling's skin that laid on the floor of their shed. She ran until what surrounded her was but the cold and dark forest, and then she ran some more. Deeper, deeper into the bowels of Equestria's primal core.

All around her, birds chirped, owls hooted, critters scampered, and trees rustled. But she noticed none of it, her mind was set on one goal.

"Get away, get away, get away..." She croaked repeatedly.

It took hours for her stamina to falter, but it did. She could no longer run, she could barely even move. Restrained by the construct of her own body, trapped inside of a pony.

She struggled to regain her breath as she knelt, she couldn't help but fall to the cold ground below. She fell. Several miles in fact, and then she hit the ground. The disgusting dirt, alive and crawling with repulsive insects. Worms burrowed in and out of the dirt, and crickets leapt around her, making that horrific screeching sound she'd come to despise.

It took a saviour's effort not to fall unconscious as her lungs frantically convulsed, longing for the air they so desperately needed to survive. Luckily she kept herself conscious, and started to breathe. Her mind began to race - on it's own accord. What did she do? Where should she go? Is this the end? Or is it only the beginning?

Slowly but surely, she began to gain some rational thinking power. She needed shelter, it had to be at least fifteen degrees below zero, and it wasn't getting any warmer. She stood up to look, with what little she could see. The best she could probably do was sleep under a pile of leaves, and subsequently leave herself at the mercy of the forest's denizens. Perhaps she could find a house, some ponies enjoyed living the quiet life, right? Searching was probably better than freezing to death. Perhaps if she actually knew how to use her wings, the task at hand would be easier. But no, her mother knew better than to let that happen. And so the search was on, find decent shelter before you freeze to death, or get eaten by a wild animal.

As she searched the wretched forest, she began to think. She realized she didn't know her own name.

"Did she even have one?"

The thought was unnerving, but it was a strong possibility. Her mother never let her outside, and she was the only other one who lived in the house, so it was fairly easy to tell when she was being called upon. Perhaps she really didn't have a name.

As a matter of fact, what did she look like? She couldn't remember ever seeing herself, mother never kept any mirrors in the house. Her coat was a dark shade of orange, and her mane was... She couldn't remember what the name of that colour was. It was like pink, but darker. Red! That was surely it, she'd heard mother shout it out a few times after she cut herself.

Any features beyond her matted mane and rough coat were completely unknown to her. She knew she probably didn't look too healthy, but then again, what did a healthy pony look like? She'd barely seen another pony before in her life, save for the rare glimpse outside the door when mother went out, or the pictures that were up on the walls when she was little. Perhaps if she found a house she could find a mirror, and gaze into her own eyes for the first time in her miserable life.

She felt the rational thinking began to fade, trading places with her whatever her mental illness thought separately from her own consciousness. Soon her mind was filled with completely irrational thoughts and voices, thoughts and voices that would drive the average pony insane. Perhaps she was lucky, as she already was.

What was she doing again?

Shelter, right. Looking for shelter.

It was only now that she realized just how cold the forest was getting. Every rustle of the leaves sent a cold blast of air shooting around her, engulfing her in what might as well have been gaseous ice. She shivered, bringing her legs closer together in a feeble attempt to stay somewhat warm. She brought her tangled up tail between her legs to aid, but to little avail, she felt as cold as ever.

"You're going to DIE! There is no hope for you!"

She whipped around, looking for the source. She was terrified, whoever had said that was very loud. The voice was deep, it could probably even be considered "calming" if it wasn't shouting.

Her eyes darted around like mad, searching, scanning for what could have made the remark. But no results were returned, as real as that voice sounded, she could've just been having another hallucination. She gave up looking and turned around, she began to walk again at a brisk pace.

It must have been at least another hour of walking before she spotted a place that she could stay.