RUN GIRL RUN

It was a small house, compiled of mostly rotting wood and crumbling foundations; but it was a house nonetheless. It stood there nestled tightly between two rows of trees, all of them withering. Struggling to survive as the house stole what little space they already had for food. The house looked old, and perhaps uninhabited. There were no lights, at least none visible to the outside. It was in such disrepair that nopony could've actually lived there.

Cautiously she approached the residence, trying her best to be as quiet as her uncoordinated hooves would allow. With every step the air seemed to grow colder, only strengthening the need for shelter. She couldn't take it. She broke out in a sprint towards the house, faster than even she had anticipated. Her hooves pounded the soil below her, and the house never seemed to get any closer. It was always on the cusp of her grasp, and no more. It's haunted appearance taunted her with it's apparent warmth and shelter, which only infuriated her more. She kept running, begging for the house.

It was only a figment of her imagination.

The house was gone faster than she could realize she wasn't even moving. She blinked, and snapped back to reality. It was dark, pitch black in fact.

"Am I dead?" she tried to think, but it ended up spewing forth aloud. She covered her mouth as fast as she had said it, scared somepony was listening.

With as much caution as she could force into her unsteady hooves, she felt around her. It was soft, an unfamiliar sensation, but a welcome one at this point. There was something covering her, soft as the surface around her only thinner. Save for the numbness left in her hind legs, she was warm, comfortably warm.

She attempted to sit up, feeling down further. She kept her hooves moving until the surface stopped, it cut sharply downwards into what felt like an endless void, and she dared not push her hooves down further. There was no wind here, which meant she must've been indoors - or dead. It was also silent, all but enforcing her theory. Is this what death was like? A soft object to lay on in the never-ending abyss? Perhaps, or perhaps not.

She decided to take a leap of faith. She turned her body about ninety degrees and pushed herself forward, letting her hind legs dangle off the edge of the object. It was terrifying, and she couldn't help but hold her breath as she moved ever forward, letting herself fall.

It was too much.

She let out a sharp scream as she lost the touch of the soft object. Her mind went blank as her sense of dread only grew stronger, she plummeted through the darkness and she was gaining speed fast. She screamed again, simply unsure of what to do. At this point, she was frantic.

Thud.

She felt her back smash into what must've been the bottom of the void. She convulsed from the pain that followed, shooting through her nerves like lightning. The floor was hard, and it was a texture that she had never felt the likes of before. She could feel nothing around her but the cold air, she was lost in the dark.

"Are you okay?"

It was a masculine voice, and it seemed to come from not too far away.

"I heard a scream," the voice started. "Followed by a bump."

Blinding lights flashed in her face as the voice had finished it's last sentence. Her pupils dilated, leaving her blinded and terrified. She couldn't control her fear, and mindlessly leapt back. She felt the back of her head come crashing into a hard object, which luckily seemed to possess rounded corners. She slumped forward, the pain ringing through her head as if she'd just been punched.

"Hey!" The voice began again. "Calm down! I'm not here to hurt you!"

She forced her eyes to adjust to the bright light, revealing that she wasn't as dead as she had thought. She was indoors, in a room, a clean room. What she thought was the bottom of the void was simply a wooden floor, and she hadn't fallen nearly as far as she thought. She had smashed her head into what looked like a small table, also carved from wood. What she had fallen from also looked like a table, but it was covered in fabric.

Standing in the doorway was another pony. He was tall, but rather slender. His features were hard, and the border between cheek and jaw was ill-defined. The mane atop his head was a moderate shade of green, and his coat was a bright, unsoiled white. He cast a shadow of darkness that ran parallel to the boards of the floor, and he looked as intimidating as a serial killer.

Seeing as though the mare had calmed down, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I see you're awake, are you okay?" he asked.

She simply sat still, unsure of what to do, still reeling in the shock of the light.

The stallion took a few steps forward. "I said, are you okay?"

This time the message got to her, and she shook her head wildly from side to side. "N-no...!" she began. "Please! Help me!"

Her voice came out scratchy, like nails running down something porous. This was made painfully apparent by the way the stallion cringed away from the sound of her voice. He looked concerned, and he took a few more steps forward. It felt like he was walking slow, as slow as a snail; it took him forever to reach her. He gingerly sat down in front of her, and outstretched a single hoof.

"Calm down," he said. "My name is Thunderhoof - or just Thunder for short - and I'm here to help you."

She stared at him, eyes wide, heart racing. This is as close as she had ever gotten to another pony, save for her mother. Now that he was up close she could see, there was something wrong.

This stallion was depressed.

His eyes were sunken, and the surrounding tissue had the telltale puff of a pony who cried all to often. His muscles looked weak, struggling to support even his slender frame. This pony did not eat often, and he certainly did not go out much. His hair was wispy and unwashed. His mere presence was probably enough to cause malaise in the average pony, but not her. She welcomed the sight of a pony who didn't want to hurt her for once, at least that's what she assumed. She made careful to not let her guard down should anything happen, though how much her atrophied body could pull off was unknown.

She finally managed to calm down her breathing, bringing her frantic gasps down to a slowly paced huff. She stared at his hoof, unsure of what to do.

An awkward silence ensued.