"Well Master Silverwind," the pony rose to his hooves."I thank you for all you've done for me sir, I'll carry it with me always and I will never forget your teachings," he dusted himself off and did a final respectful bow to the small pile of rocks. "But, I must be off," he said finally, "it's our long-awaited reunion, and I mustn't keep my brothers waiting."

The purple and black piebald pony fitted his vest and saddlebags and walked away from the lone cabin in the woods, his home for the past five years. Among the stones there was one larger than the rest sitting dead center with letters carved into it, the inscription upon it read;

"Here lies Arch-Druid Silverwind of Oakenmire's Circle of Stone. Beloved Founder, Friend, and Father."

Cwake (Quake) made his way down the well-worn path, dense woodland flanking him on either side, "I entrusted the cabin to Jake and Steve, in case any-pony get lost or hurt." Jake was a Grey Wolf and Steve was a Brown Bear, dear friends, had always stuck with him through his years of training. He knew they would watch over the place till Mother Nature reclaimed it. Cwake tried in vain to take his mind off where his current path was leading him.

Ever since he first arrived for his training, Cwake had known there was a town at the foot of the hills, his mentor had strictly forbade him from going anywhere near or into the town. Cwake obeyed naturally, not only heed his teacher's warnings but also because he wanted little to nothing to do with the trappings of "civilization", he could interact with other ponies if he wanted, but he refused to be locked into their oversized pen! That and being surrounded by strangers cluttering around shoulder to shoulder going this way and that, trampling and shoving anypony without even an apology or any acknowledgment of your existence. Then the sea of bodies swallows you up and carries you off into who knows were, there's yelling and chatter all around, so much noise that you can't even for a single thought, and then . . . Oh Gods, the walls are closing in!

Cwake shook himself, "Snap out of it! Focus, damn you!" he had to get that line of thought out of his head, this was no time for a panic attack. "The town is only a small obstacle for me to reach my family. I can do this!" and with that, he marched one hoof in front of the other with his chin held high and his eyes to the road ahead.

Even in his forced attempt at bravery, Cwake was a peace with his surroundings. The well-worn path snaked it's way across and around the wooded foothills, pines far as the eye could see up, down, and all around. The sun was just coming up, the bright orange and yellow on the horizon was fading fast as the world grew brighter and more alert to a new day. Squirrels scamper through the needles and cones, gathering their breakfast and squabbling with each other for more. An eagle flies by overhead, roosting in a nearby pine to the piping of hungry chicks. All's quiet. All's peaceful. It is the perfect, time of day. Or was.

It had not even been fifteen minuets, by Cwake's best guess, and the world around him was blanketed in fog. "Hmm, well this should clear up in no time." he thought. Cwake knew there were several lakes in the area, and at least one good sized river feeding in fresh water, this would explain the early morning fog. But it didn't explain why the fog got thicker the farther he went.

At this point, Cwake couldn't see anything past ten to fifteen feet in front of him, and the path itself looked as though he was walking through water as it covered the ground, shifting every time he took a step. The trees shifted ever so slightly, casting a glance to his right, Cwake could see the trees becoming slightly less dense and with the illusion of them getting shorter the further they were from him. The facing of the hill got steeper the farther he went. Then it hit him. Unconsciously, he had been listening. A life of almost constant fear and terror had sharpened his senses beyond what most ponies couldn't fathom, all in the name of self-preservation. There were no sounds. Aside from the occasional small gust of wind, all was dead silent. No morning birds calling out to one another, no squirrels or chipmunks darting about, no animals of any kind dwelled here. Aside for the rare gust or two, the only sound was his hooves on the dirt road.

The silence was as smothering as the omnipresent fog as if it's presence were a warning or a deterrent to all sensible animals that he had foolishly overlooked.

"I'm just paranoid, it's probably nothing." he tried to convince himself. "I hope."

Cwake remembered asking his mentor about the town when there was nothing more pressing for him to accomplish or if his mentor had returned from the town, as he was want to do for whatever reason. But the old pony always stayed taciturn on the matter, or spontaneously changed the subject, as if always expecting the question. Cwake never dug too deep into the matter or pestered his teacher on the subject, the last thing anypony smart enough to know better would ever do is anger their mentor, especially Master Silverwind. Though slow to anger, the old pony could make grizzly bears soil themselves fleeing in terror if pressed on to that point.

Though his master saw fit to stay in the town a day and a night, once or twice a month. Almost like clockwork.

These recollections crossed his mind, as Cwake tried to keep his nerve in this suddenly suffocating atmosphere. He continued on, a sudden gust picked up, flinging and scattering pines and dirt all over him, then he heard it.

'SQUELCHE-HURHUR-RUFF!"

The sound came from behind him, on his left side up the hill. A low grunting, almost like a dog or wolf barking low or growling, but this was from no animal he had ever heard before. About to speak, Cwake shot his hoof to his lips, he knew better than to shout, "Who's there!?" all alone in the woods. Eyes wide he threw a glance behind him, of course, he couldn't see anything, this fog was so thick it even blocked out the sun!

Cwake quickly pulled his eyes forward and carried on at a quicker pace. That little voice in the back of his mind muttered something, not loud enough to be heard but enough to know it's there. The fog, ever present, hindered his progress only a little. After rounding a sharp left bend in the path, the way became a little more visible. The farther he looked, the steeper the road went. He kept going.

'SQUELCHE-HURHUR-RUFF!"

Then he heard it again. Louder. Closer. He wasn't even half way down the natural ramp when his nerves kicked in, his survival instincts prompting and egging him to move, faster. Much faster! From what little he could see, the dirt path kept going down but jutted out in right angles two times, making what looked like a natural spiral staircase. Of course, Cwake failed to notice the similarity, only seeing it as his escape route.

A right, keep running, another right. It was almost a mantra in his head, he would have gone yet another right if he could see the ground. After a bit the path evened out into a straight line, he slowed a bit. Then stopped just long enough to catch his breath. Cwake stained his senses as heard as he could, looking, listening, sniffing, feeling for the air to move in any way. Was he out of danger? No. Was he safe? No!With these facts secured, he pressed on, all be it slowly trying in vain at calming himself.

Still, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his hoof beats. Nary an echo to be heard in these hills of dense wood, of any kind.

Further on he went and still, all was quiet, he wouldn't even humor the notion that whatever was following him if it were following him, had left. The growl sounded from a carnivore, a large hungry carnivore. "It couldn't be a timberwolf, they aren't born of pine forests. And that sounds like no pack, there is only one voice growling like that." Cwake thought. A chill worked its way slowly down his spine, anticipating what to come. Trying his best to feign serenity or at least calmness.

'...SQUELCHE-HURHUR-GRRRRU!"

The growl came again, this time it was; "...Oh, Gods!" the sound chased a jackrabbit from the tip of his tail to the top of his head, leaving goosebumps and hair standing on end in their wake. A chill sent a cold sweat to cover him, as the small voice of his survival instincts rang loud and clear in his ears; "Run. Do not walk. Do not stop. Do not think. Just RUN!" Needing no further encouragement, Cwake was already bolting headlong in a full gallop down the path. The road snaked and turned, but he kept running, till the trees and finally, the ground started to level out to his right then his left.

He came to a skidding stop, falling and rolling a few times to the bank of a wide left turn. Resting on elbows and belly, Cwake craned his head up and looked back at the trail he blazed, gasping for breath. Aside from his dust finally catching up to him, there was nothing there. Not a shadow, not a sound. With one last shuddering sigh, he could finally relax a minute. Poking his nose into his saddlebag, he retrieved his hoof-made gourd canteen. After a few pulls from it, he shook it, finding it half empty; "Huh, guess I was more thirsty than I thought." he thought, the gourd hanging from his muzzle. Hazarding a quick glance all around, he packed his canteen away and was back on his feet.

At the base of the incline was where he stood, the path's sharp turn was wide; at least four to six ponies would fit here and still not bother a single blade of grass. Looking back to the hills, the path behind him looked so much darker than he remembered, and from where he stood to the path ahead, it seemed almost bleached with light from the ever unseen sun. The fog never lifted even for a second, leaving a gray matte behind him and a thick white wall in front. As he pressed on, the fog revealed an old, weather worn wood fence gripping the side of the road for dear life. Looking past the shamble of sticks, Cwake could only just make out what appeared to be a great mass of something in the distance. Not paying it a second thought, he was stopped again by something just a little further up the road.

It appeared to be a small pony-made wood and mason gazebo housing a stone well in the center. It's shingled roof was a wash of varying shades of faded green, while the rest was all unwashed white stones. Cwake approached the well, hoping to at least get a little more water for the trip. Surprised but undeterred, he noticed an old hoof pump and it's base cast off into the bushes just behind the well. Casting a slight glance into the well, he didn't want to have his head down the hole if he could help it. He recoiled slightly as the stale air of sulfur water greeted him from the depths. Pulling away from the well was most likely a smart move he thought, "If it's open to the air and smells like that, it's more than likely stagnant, or worse." Almost happily he went on his way.

Back on the road, it now had slipshod fences on both sides funneling the road down to a large something just up ahead. Taking a quick sigh of what fresh air there was, he approached. The "thing" happened to be imposing wrought iron gates framed by thick stone cubes, four stacked on either side. The gate was open, unlocked and unbarred, you could fit a hoof through the spread bars, but not much else.

Cwake weighed his options, he could leave the road and head through the forest; navigating through this fog was a small nuisance but one that wouldn't slow him down for long. But, that thing, whatever it was, could still be out there. If it had really existed, Cwake didn't have the time or the patience to argue with himself on whether a monster was there or not right now. On the other hoof, go straight ahead into the unknown.
...gurrrrr~

. . . Straight ahead it is then!

Sparks fell in and out of consciousness as the train rocked him gently. The light rhythm of the wheels clicking and clacking on the tracks and the warmth of the morning sun didn't help any. Sparks rested his head on the car's window as he wedged himself in the corner of the hard bench, not that there wasn't any room mind you; the car if not the whole train was practically deserted, aside from the occasional passing attendee or conductor.

As sleep came to him stronger than ever this time, Sparks shifted his saddlebags up to the wall as an impromptu pillow as he slid down, lying stretched out across the bench, his legs hanging off the bed half way to his knee. All was peaceful and comfy, all according to plan.

'CHOWOOOOO!~"

The high pitched scream of the train's whistle put a stop to that, the sudden noise felt like a punch in the head to Sparks as the shock sent a jolt of his own electricity straight through him from horn to hooves. Cursing the sudden shock (and the engineer's family) lightly, sparks prompted himself back up again and watched out the window.

Even rolling by as fast as they were, the landscape was beautiful in the early morning light. The sun was just ahead of the locomotive, guiding it on. The vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows of dawn were a short-lived memory now, blue skies far and wide as the eye can see. The swathes of white clouds and a few storm clouds were neither issue or bad omen, only every so often granting a small boon of shade. The grassland stretched on for miles, lush green grass and small shrubs only broken up by a small lake here and there as they reached out to meet the flowing, patchy treeline swerving and spanning the horizon. Hills became more frequent the further they went.

Squinting as he cast his sight ahead, he could just make out the start of the foothills. They were as close as you got to mountains in these lands. Vast ranges of foothills stretched here and there on the land like veins on the body. Sparks couldn't help but notice one small blotch on this picturesque view, dead ahead of them was a dense fog bank, looking like it had bled down from the hills in the distance.

'WHOO-WOO!"

The train's whistle let out a small laugh as the slight screech of the wheel's brakes ushered the train lurching back a bit. "The engineer's slowing for a fog bank?" Sparks thought as he pondered this for a moment.

The realization hit him like a hoof upside the head, how could he have been so stupid! The next stop where he was to meet Cwake was practically a stone's throw away from a bad place, a real bad place. He blamed his grogginess long and hard for this oversight, though he knew the chances were small, things could turn ugly for Cwake. That boy was like a magnet for anything supernatural or otherworldly, and could quite possibly be an embodiment of "Murphy's Law", Sparks had tried many times in their youth to figure out why these things were always happening to his brother, to no avail.

But it was that certainty that "things would go wrong" with Cwake, that made planning ahead all the easier for Sparks, and a bit more fun. Like setting up vast rows of dominoes to fall evenly and precisely so that the last one would land on a button, setting off a whole new chain of events. Seeing how they would fall and following along as they all affect each other was so much more fun than just know where or what was waiting at the end. That was normally obvious.

Sparks smiled to himself thinking of his joyous self-indulgence in planning and plotting for the future. This ended abruptly as Cwake's destined "bad place" reentered his thoughts, he tried but could recall the name of said "bad place" Cwake was headed for. He knew it was something Springs, and that nothing recent had involved the town. "Nothing recent? That's it!" Sparks knew what he had to search for, tossing the flap aside and glaring into the void of his magic bag.

"Now, where did I put that history book?"

With more force than was first thought necessary, the iron screamed and groaned in protest after so long without use, but the gate swung open as Cwake stumbled in. Not much was different. The path ahead was unkempt with dead weeds and leaf litter from the surrounding trees, all girdled in on either side by a low stone wall, each side was weather worn and blotched here and there with moss or algae. The fog followed Cwake like a lost puppy, never leaving his side once.

It would almost be comforting if it weren't so foreboding in it own way.

Still, no way to go but ahead, Cwake carried on. Always having his eyes and ears open for trouble, the sound of the leaf litter under his hooves was all he heard. "It too quiet, way too quiet. Almost more than the forest." he thought. Little ways ahead the walls of the path bowed out on either side, Cwake entered a large swath of land, till something came into view.

Just ahead, spaced out about every three feet or so was row after rows of tombstones. "I knew it was too quiet!" Cwake thought as a cold sweat broke out over his brow. The face each stone was more worn down and poorly cared for as the walls, the inscriptions lost to time and the weather. If this rain was indeed the norm.

The fog still blanketed the world as far as the eye could see, but the path to the left seemed a bit brighter. He doubted it was the sun, but anything was better than standing around here. Turning to leave, Cwake was stopped by a sound, a rather small sound that sent a chill through him again. 'hic-hick-sniff-uhg~" Crying.

To his right, into the rows of headstones, came the muted sounds of small sobs. Even with every fiber of his being screaming not to, he inched forward looking for the source. Three rows in he found it.

There, sitting and facing towards a headstone was a small pale blue filly with a pitch black mane. Her tail was a little long but the mane of hair on her head almost touched the ground, it was so long. The bulk of her hair was slung over her shoulder, held up in a loose tail by a big red ribbon. Her head hung low as she wept. "It's a ghost. It has to be a ghost!" the thought racing and repeating over and over in his mind as every muscle tightened up, ready to run. He only hoped if she noticed him, that she wouldn't turn around and scream at him. "I don't think my heart could take it!"

Inching on one hoof at a time, he approached. With ever fiber of his being screaming and pleading for him not to, he approached. Ghost or not she may know something, anything. Hi, I'm Cwake, what's your name? Could you help me, I'm lost? Where's this town? What's with all the fog? Where are we? What the hells is that thing in the woods, and why is it doing those things? Please don't kill me!

Keeping a fair distance between them, Cwake took a deep breath; "Um ..., excuse me?" *-SNAP!-* shifting his weight caused a twig to snap under-hoof. "OH CRAP!"

-Gasp- The little filly looked over her right shoulder, only the side of her face and a normal golden yellow eye was shown. Wide with shock. Half a breath later and she ran off ahead through the headstones. "Wait! I just want to ask-!" Cwake tried to say, but she had darted off to the left trough a row further on. He tried his best to chase after her, after four or so stone the way was cleared to flat ground again, still, he had lost sight of her, until. . .

"Whoa!" -THWACK!- He ran headlong into the stone wall. "Ugh. . . Ow! What the!?" Cwake rubbed a hoof to his throbbing head looking around, the same worn down stone wall he had been seeing lately greeted him. As high as his head, and fenced in at the top. Off to the left was what looked to be an old two story building of some sort, possibly an undertaker or gravedigger's place, and the right lead to another old iron gate.

"Gotta love the decor; Gothic redundancy, a classic!" he thought Sparks would say something like that, taking a chuckle from his brothers' would-be remake. If only his brothers were here, then he wouldn't be lost, he wouldn't be alone, he wouldn't be scared out of his wits!

No. He would be scared, just not as much. No sense worry about possible ghost fillies. With a bit of effort to steady himself, Cwake made his way through the next gate, this one not taking nearly as much effort. Before him lay a path through the woods again, and the recent memory of the sounds that had stalked him here. Scanning his surroundings, he looked high and low. This fog clung to him worse than his own shadow! The right side was the woods, only one tree deep and the fog turned to pure shadow, but what could be made out showed that a steep hill shot up not too far from the road. Can't go that way. The way left was blocked, as the wall kept right next to him. Standing his forelegs on the wall, Cwake could see the land had been worked on that side. A little brighter than the right side, the ground had dried grass scattered on and above the ground; and off as far as he could see the ground had been tilled, streaking the land with black lines. "Hmm~ Maybe?" Thinking better of it, Cwake would just keep to the road. It was safer, for now.

The path was coated even more densely with leaf litter, every step caused a crunch and a rustle of kicked leaves. Except that, all was quiet again. "I'm sensing a pattern here." I road stretched on as always, with the only sound to keep him company was the crunch of dead leaves. Still, no animals or birds or even insects to be seen or heard from. Little ways on and his surroundings changed again, now he was flanked on either side by fencing.

The hill had faded low off into the distance, almost immediately replaced by a barbwire fence! "Ponies still use this nasty stuff!?" Cwake thought, fighting the urge to jump into the air like a startled cat, as he was known to do. What could be seen through the tangled, rusted mess; was a few sparse trees and a stump here or there, "Logging? HERE!?" fear would have shifted to rage in a heartbeat from Cwake to see this if there were anypony around to take the blame. The only evidence was an unused ax wedged into a log or stump, or cast to the ground; and a wagon with a front wheel broke almost entirely in half, tilted to one side from missing another altogether.

The left just had a sturdier made white wood fence, this one clearly had more "T.L.C." put into it, and the white wall of fog

-CRUNCH-

The sound came from right behind him, "Oh, no~" Cwake could feel tears starting to well up on him, he gulped hard fighting them down and let out a shaky breath. Every two steps -CRUNCH-, then another -CRUNCH-, and another two -CRUNCH- The sound never got farther or closer, and there was never any other sound. No breathing, no popping of knuckles or joints, no scratching or growling, nothing.-CRUNCH- Well, almost nothing.

Cwake was making enough noise for six other ponies, gasping and panting, knees knocking from trembling and quaking (his namesake), and a cold sweat beading up and running off him like a mug of cider on a hot afternoon.-CRUNCH- It sounded big, whatever it was. But whatever it was, was gone. The complete silence had Cwake slam on the breaks, he looked around then spun around clockwise and counterclockwise. Nothing!

"Okay, this is well past old now!" his brows furrowed, the frustration of jumping at shadows plus being reminded of and seeing more proof of the damages done by the loggers, had reawoken the anger so foreign to the pony. "I'm beyond peeved right now! Nothing else is going to scare me, I refuse!" with this fresh in his mind, he stomped off quickly. Determined to get this over with.

Passing by a large locked gate with a bold sign saying; "TALUCA RANCH, SI_ E _ T SPRINGS" though he paid it little mind.

-CRUNCH-

There it was again, same sound, same direction. "Nope!" Cwake said to himself and picked up the pace a bit. The farther he went, the more the scenery became more monotonous. The fences went farther from the road and the fog block out everything ten feet around him! Only getting more frustrated, the path suddenly changed yet again, the fence on the left had given way to a hill and the right looked like it would follow suit. "Alright!"

-CRUNCH-CRUNCH-CRUNCH-CRUNCH-CRUNCH-CRUNCH-

A steady stream this time, rapid trying to keep in two for one step with him, "Nope! I'm not doing it!" he cried out, finally sprinting at this point. -CRUNCH- The final one came suddenly and alone, as if in frustration. Cwake didn't care, he was done. He made his way through a small natural valley between two high hills. Darting through the dead leaves, dry grass, and around a stray tree or two till the land opened up again, with more fences. But these were different...

The area off to his right was a cage of high metal mesh, girdling in something pony made here and there in the distance. The road evened out too, from what he had been traveling on, to a slightly deeper well-used pathway. Another hill made it into view, this was constructed though, high stone slab faces covered in animal droppings, graffiti, and what should have been posters and signs smeared the wall as far as he could see. "Civilization, at last. . ." he thought sarcastically.

It had begun to worry him slightly how he was taking after two if his brothers more and more. "Sparks and Jackie would be proud." he thought still sarcastic and with a shudder. -clip-clop-/-clip-clop- The sound caught him off guard slightly, to his right and his shock was the same small filly as before!

"She's a GHOST! You KNOW she's a ghost! . . .Your still gonna ask, aren't ya?" The little voice of reason could not have been any louder, even if he spoke to every fiber of Cwake being down to his soul, not that it would have helped any.

"Excuse me," he said approaching the little filly,"I was trying to ask you for directions." he temper still fueling him now, he spoke firmly. The little one's head swiveled in a flash to meet his gaze. Her "peek-a-boo" mane style still covering half her face, but what could be seen was in shock again. Just as quickly as she turned her head, she turned and ran again! "HEY! Would you please just answer me!?" And like that the chase was on again.

She leads Cwake on down the wall, making a sharp left turn down a tunnel, Cwake practically on her heels. The area in front had a gate ahead of them, the filly didn't even slow down. -SLAM- With a tackle the gate swung open and she ran even faster. Slowed just slightly by this display, he kept up the chase. Cwake, still not paying attention, failed to notice the many rusted signs about the area; especially the ones that read "DANGER!!!" in big bold red letters! But clearly, these didn't matter to him.

They exited the tunnel, making their way down a single stretch road. The right shoot down to a steep pony made retention canal, the left was a high wall. Atop, from what he could see, were decorative bushes and shrubbery. The way stretched on, a guard rail or small bench and fence combo next to a streetlamp came on the right of the road at odd intervals. The little filly hadn't slowed down in the slightest, the fog no more an impedance that a blindfold, she was a native, she knew her way around. The way snake this way and that, till a straight away had a picket fence guide them to the street post than the sidewalk. They had arrived.

The realization had slowed Cwake again, as his eyes went wide as he tried to look around and see what he could see. His surroundings were vast and bright as the shadows and silhouettes of building spread about the background, blanketed by the ever present fog. All was quiet again, the same eerie quiet that had been his sole companion this trip along with the fog.

"Wait! Quiet!? But that means... " Cwake looked around feverishly; left, right, front, back, yep she was gone again. "Oh, come on! Not again!" he whined, stomping a bit in frustration.

What does this town have in store for Cwake? What can Sparks do to help his brother? Can he help? What's the little filly's purpose in all this!?
We'll just have to find out next time in, Farewell Silent Springs!

To be continued...

Author's Note

Part-1, DONE! 2 bros. down, 2 ta go!

I'll pick up on Pt.2 soon. I cut it in 2 cuz it was just dragging on and on.
We'll get to the meat and potatoes next time we visit Silent Hi- er, I mean Silent Springs! yeah~

Buh~Bye!