New Faces

I run.

I run fast and hard, racing through the burning encampment, the smoke choking me and the hot air burning my throat and lungs. I run to find my father, fighting somewhere in the smoke and fire. Dead warriors are nearby, and I can see the invaders now and then, destroying everything they can touch.

My hooves skid as I turn a corner and spot him. My father, fighting the invaders with spear and hoof. Behind him was the stone building, and the door had collapsed, which was why I was out here.

I need to bring him to the escape, and save him, and me.

I focus, and try my best, and a wave of air rushes from me to brush his enemies away.

“Father! Quickly!” I yell, and he turns and runs after me as I return along the path I took. He soon draws level with me, and seizes me and carries me, his legs far stronger than mine.

“I told you to be safe!” his rough voice yells as he runs, one hand holding his spear yet and his hooves pounding the dirt.

“I will not leave you!” I tell him. He merely grunts in response, and we go into the stone building. Everyone was gone, and the portal flickered, weak and fading.

I feel him focus, and he leaps, pushing us through the air to pass through the portal just before it collapses.

We pass to the other side, and I smell clean air and bright light shines down on us. It is jarring, to have gone from smoke and fire and death the peace so suddenly. The surviving tribe is around us, and my father sets me down and stands tall, nearly a foot taller than the tallest warrior.

“Where does the enemy lie!? What is needed here!?” he asks the nearest, Strong Arm and Eagle’s Eye. Two of the better warriors sent to protect the women and children.

“Nothing my chieftain.” Strong arm says. “The land is field, and there is nothing that threatens us.”

“Go and be sure of it.”

They bow and do so, racing off and leaving us. I look around, and note that most of the tribe is better than I feared. Few injuries, and more warriors have survived than I thought would.

My father begins to take charge, ordering our scattered tribe, and I go to find my teacher. He is our shaman, old and revered. Wise in his years, but infirm in his age. He will help to settle my energy. My heart still pounds from the rush of before, and he will help calm it.

I find him soon, helping to heal the injured. He rubs herbs into the cuts, and then washes with water before bandaging it with raw hide stretched thin. A few blessings, and the tribesman he helped moves away to help the others.

“Teacher.” I call.

He looks over, and a mostly toothless grin is offered. “Chosen.” he says, his voice creaking and raspy, “You have done well. You have saved your father, and kept you and him from any true injury. Truly, you are growing into a fine warrior.”

“Thank you teacher.” He is good. I did not even have to tell him, and already I feel better. “But where are we? The stones did not say where they led to. What land is this?”

“That, even I am not sure. This place is very distant from anyplace I have been.” I am impressed. Teacher has been everywhere in his youth. If this place is far, then it is very, very far. “Though here, the elements listen more. You will benefit from this place well I think.”

“To your wisdom, teacher.”

“Hmph. Go back to Martuk, go back to your father. He will need you to remind him that there is no enemy here and that he can relax.”

“I shall!” I say as I turn and head away.

From disaster and death to peace in only a day. It almost seems strange, that we could go from fire and smoke and death to sun and grass and peace so quickly.

As I return to father, a colt my age runs to me, smiling. I smile back at my friend, Rush Wind.

“Chosen! Come and help me!” he says, his eagerness and energy never truly able to be doused. Even when he had run from the invaders like the rest of us, he was smiling.

“Help you what?” I ask as I follow him, keeping pace with him. Rush likes to run everywhere.

“Eagle’s Eye wants me to help him scout, and I want to see everything!”

Eagle’s Eye is Rush Wind’s older brother, and when Eagle’s Eye wished help scouting that meant a lot of time staring at the horizon. Boring for Rush Wind. I will be helping Eagle’s while he played nearby, but I do not mind.

Eagle’s Eye sees much, and I enjoy watching with him.

He was happy to see me, and the three of us went to the highest point. It wasn’t much, the plain was flat and lacked any real high point, but it was enough that we could see very far.

Eagle’s Eye could see very far, and he can spot an insect at a hundred hoofsteps. I can do the same, with a little elemental help.

My teacher taught me that air effects your vision. And if you can focus air, you can see for miles, seeing as though you were standing close to what you looked at. I was really good at that, though the trick was simple, nothing to be proud of.

So Rush ran nearby, chasing a butterfly, while his brother and I stood and stared.

A river to the west, and a forest just beyond. A savannah to the east, as well as mountains. The south was more field, and the north was as well. But in the distance was something.

A piece of wood planted in the ground. We went to check on it, and found a dirt trail next to it.

“Eagle’s Eye?” I ask, “What is it?” It had black markings on it, and seemed to be put there purposefully.

“It is a sign Chosen. Humans like to use them to note their trails, like the one we stand on now.”

“Should we tell father?” Humans do not like us. They cause trouble. Maybe it would help if I or Eagle’s Eye could read their tongue. Teacher can, but most of the tribe cannot.

“Perhaps… but perhaps not. Not much travels on this trail, and it is far from where we are. I do not think it is something to fear, but we shall tell Martuk anyway.”

We spent more time out there, the peace of the fields infectious and the warm sun drowsy. Rush Wind can barely keep going, and though I try, I am not yet disciplined like a warrior.

Even Eagle’s eye seems to be affected. I can tell he is being sloppy, but I do not truly care. The day is too nice to care.

Father has ordered the tribe, and already they are ready to live in this place. Tents are being set, and everyone has their job to do. He is busy, so I leave him, and go to teacher.

He tells me to find some rest. It is a simple enough thing, so I do so, finding a free spot on the grass and settling on my side to sleep.

This place is much nicer than where we had lived. Father and teacher can smooth out any trouble that does arise, and the warriors are strong and capable. A field is no mountain home, but I have no fear with the tribe nearby.

I wake to a strange feeling. Something is bad. Wrong.

I stand, and notice that the shadows are shifting rapidly, as though someone is carrying a torch near me. But no one has a torch.

Everyone is murmuring and looking skyward, and I follow their example.

The sun is dropping, so fast it can be seen. In a moment it goes from day to dusk to night, leaving us in darkness. And then the moon rises, bright and fast as well until it stops high in the sky.

I am worried, and distressed. What is happening?

I go and find teacher and father looking skyward together, the tribe around them, waiting for them to tell them what to do. I walk close, so I can hear them.

“I do not know Martuk. The ancestors might, but I cannot find them here.”

“Then what Gori? What am I to do? What if the sun never rises again? Who do we go to when even you are left uncertain?”

“Remember Martuk; once our ancestors did not have ancestors. Everything has a beginning, and sometimes knowledge is gained the hard way. This land does not seem the type to lose its sun. Perhaps it is only something that happens only once in a long time.”

“Father?” I say as I go to him. “What is happening?”

He gets the determined face, the one he uses when he does not want me to fear. “Nothing Chosen. The sky is simply acting out of place. Nothing to be concerned over.”

Those words are something to be concerned over. Father did not speak like that when he felt safe or in control.

“Do not dismiss the boy Martuk. Maybe Chosen can see what old eyes cannot.” Gori looks to me. “Chosen, what do you make of the sky?”

I hesitate. Teacher is testing me I think. I look up and wonder.

“…The stars are different.” I say. “The runner is not there, and neither is the warrior.”

“And?” he asks. I try harder.

“…I…” There is nothing else. What else is there? The sky, the sun, the stars and the moon…

“The moon… the moon is big.” I say, wondering how I did not see that before. There is something else, and I focus on it.

“It is big… and… something is… is pushing it? I can see it moving, and I can kind of see something around it, as though a hand pushes it through the sky.”

Teacher looks back up and nods. “It is as he says. I did not see that.” He rubs his chin.

“What does it mean?” father asks, angry and frustrated.

“It means that nature is not rebelling. It means that something is controlling it.”

“But what Gori? What can control the skies?”

“…gods?” Gori says slowly. Humans have gods, but everyone knows that they don’t exist. Teacher is teasing father with the word.

“I know of nothing that can Martuk. I know of no one who would know of something that can. But I have never seen those stars, never seen the moon so big with its marks changed.”

They are. The moon and stars are different? “And that makes me realize how far we have gone.” He finishes. I fear.

“Where are we teacher?” I ask again.

“We have left our land, and come to another apart from it. That moon is not our own, those stars are not our own, and I suspect that if I look, the sun is not our own. The portal has lead us from our place to a new place in every way.”

Father frowns and his face tightens. Then he growls, and turns to the tribe.

“Stay on guard! Do not let the peace fool you! This place is new, and can easily be dangerous! Let the warriors and scouts find what is safe or not, even if that thing is something you know!”

“We must keep safe! We lost too many, and I will not suffer more losses! Stay on your guard, and make sure that nothing tricks you, and that nothing can threaten us!”

He walks away and teacher continues to watch the sky. I join him, looking at the new stars, wondering how you created a picture with them. I liked the old star drawings, but I can’t just draw on the sky with charcoal. I wonder how the ancestors did it.

Still, father knows what he is doing, and teacher is a capable guide. We will be safe, even if the peace does turn out to be a trap, and the land is more dangerous than the falling stones of Thunder cliff.

For a moment I see something. A shape eclipses the moon for a second. A… winged horse? Should I tell… no. Teacher will think me tired, and father will say that I am too young to be trusted with strange sights. Maybe I imagined it.

Father is making absolutely certain that everything is what it appears to be. Even the water in the river is given careful watch before anyone will be allowed to drink it or bathe in it. A few fish are in it as well, and the tribe is treating them like we would treat the death birds. Evil and bad things.

Father allowed me to continue helping Eagle’s eye in his scouting, so long as I had my spear and wits about me at all times. Father’s spear is long, and old. His father’s father had made it, and the wood and bone were stronger than most things.

Mine was weak, small, and not special. I was not an adult, and used a child’s spear instead. I was growing fast, but I was still a few seasons from manhood yet, which was frustrating. I was 13 winters, and I need to be 15 before I could be called a man by the rights of the tribe. Or unless I convinced father and the tribe that I was mature before my age.

It was on one of those scouting missions that father forbade me from scouting anymore. I saw a town, a human town of some size to the north, not very far from us at all. Father did not want me near them, or anyplace that I could be near them. All of the scouts to the north were told to look elsewhere as well.

I am currently helping to hunt fish. Teacher will determine if they are safe to eat, but until then I enjoy trying to spear them in the river. A challenge considering we cannot enter the water yet. I am better than the others, more easily able to contort myself and reach them than the adults.

Then a ‘we found something good’ call comes from the camp, and we get up and go that way.

In the camp is a tent, one that stands on a wooden box atop wooden wheels. A few of the warriors are near it, emptying it of supplies.

I know the wagons that humans use, but this one seems too small. Not that they ever made sense. We can’t use them, and it is hard to climb inside of it.

Nearby was much more interesting. Father was arguing with Strong Arm, and near them were three foals, one of them a runt.

I am a little bigger, and they should grow to be at least twice their current size. They are very colorful, bright yellow, pink, and blue unlike any fur I have seen. My own is brown and tan, and father’s is a dull red, but the horses almost look like someone painted them. As colorful as flowers, and so smooth, as if someone has just brushed them.

They are tied to a post, and I go to them, wondering. I get along with horses.

They are afraid. They are children, and I wonder where the parents were. Wouldn’t the adult horses be tied to the wagon, and the foals either in or nearby? But there is no adult horse nearby.

I reach in my pouch and offer a carrot to them. They back away from me, and refuse it. Strange.

“Chosen!”

I jump a little, and look up at my father. “Get away from them.”

“They are only foals father.”

“The one of them was pulling a loaded cart, and hurt one of the warriors because he thought it was only a foal. It is not, and the other two might not be either.”

I look at them with new eyes. They almost seem intimidating now. Something so colorful and small so strong? It is surprising, and gives father’s concern much more reality. This place might be a trap after all.

“Chosen, come with me.” Father says.

I obey and walk with him. He goes and selects his hunting spear, and Soft Hoof joins us. I am overjoyed. We are going hunting! But as I reach for the child spears, he stops me and shakes his head.

And then he gives me one of the adult spears, and I look at it and then look up at him.

“It is getting close to your manhood Chosen. You need to begin readying yourself for it. I know that you can impress me.”

My smile cannot be larger. “I will make you proud father.”

The new spear is larger and heavier than what I am used to, but it is nothing. Father thinks me ready to begin manhood! Soon, I might be able to perform the ceremony, and then I can hunt alone, and use the big spear always, and eat with father at the feasts! And then I can find my own match.

Father only had one match, and she died soon after birthing me. He never chose another one, but I wanted many children, to honor my father and me. Four or five matches might do. Enough children to make a whole tribe!

Father led us North West, wanting to see the town for himself. I am still eager, and ready. I want to prove myself to him.

After a time we can see it, the land sloping down and leading to the town. I can just barely see things moving in it.

Father nods, and then moves away and I follow. I keep my eyes open around me, and do not use my trick to look into the town. It would be failing as a hunter to act as a scout.

Nearby, we find a herd of cow. Large animals that can make a whole feast, and were far tastier than the yak or bull. Humans liked to raise them, and I loved to eat them.

“Can we father?” I ask, trying to contain my excitement.

He thinks, and then he nods. “They are not dangerous Chosen, but be careful that they do not fall on you. Get the first, and I shall have another.”

I nod, and look at the herd. All of them look delicious, but I must choose the best, like a good hunter. Maybe the one near the yellow flowers…

I move to it, walking slowly but purposefully. It does not look to me, just like the hunters said. Big and stupid things.

Then I stab it, and it cries as it falls. I missed its heart, and it keeps crying and upsets the rest.

Father impales another with his own spear, and the herd stampedes away from us. I kill my own as he comes to me.

“A good first son. A fine choice as well, which makes up for your lack of aim.”

“Sorry father.”

“Do not be. I have seen others fail to even hurt one, and many bring back nothing from their first hunt. I am proud my son.” I smile, and he and Soft Hoof begin dragging the animals. I help, struggling to lift any part of it, but I am impossible to upset now!

I made him proud, and made a great hunt, and killed my favorite meal. The return and later meal will be all the better for that.

perspective, pony

The southern road from Ponyville was not often used. It was a very long way to anything else by that route, and few ever needed or wanted to travel that way. But every now and then somepony did. For one reason or another, they left to the south, or came from it, prepared for a journey that would take weeks on hoof. Pegasi had it easy.

One family, Good growth, Fine Fur, and Gentle Eyes, father, mother and daughter respectively, were one of those who had reason to go south. They wanted to visit some family that lived far apart, and they had prepared for it well.

Food enough to last them the entire trip, proper protective wear in case of trouble, and camping supplies for comfort. Good had even bought an entire covered wagon, in case of rain, to be able to carry everything, and he was strong enough to drag it himself.

So early that morning, Fine Fur and Gentle had climbed inside, and bid farewell to Ponyville as they left. The trip was going to be long, but they were happy and optimistic about it.

For the first few hours, they sang to pass the time, until they stopped along the dirt trail to eat lunch. Salad for now; Good did not want to heave the grill free from the wagon until later on in the trip.

And then Gentle spotted something, and in moments, they were surrounded by creatures like and different from them.

They looked like ponies, with fur that was dirty and far duller than their own coats, and they stood a fair bit taller than a pony. Almost twice as high measuring from their backs, three times if you counted their heads. Instead of a normal head, they had a hairless upper torso, like a shaved minotaur. It was topped with a head with a rough tussle of short hair, and a face like nothing they had seen. It was flat, and the nose and mouth were slightly alien in structure.

In hands, they held vicious spears, and on their backs were pouches and rope. Two of them peered into the wagon, spears first, and four others clustered near the family.

It all took a few seconds for them to be there, and Fine and Gentle moved behind Good, trying to put him in between them and the strange beings. He was afraid, but stood strong, to protect his wife and child.

At first, the strange creatures did not seem to care about them, but then two of then grabbed the wagon by the harness, and one of the others approached, with a rope in a noose.

Before it could place it around Good, he turned, and bucked the thing. It reared from the hit, and backed up, the others of its kind tensing fast.

They backed up, and the others began moving the wagon away, and Good yelled after the ones stealing their belongings. That is when the others lassoed him, the rope catching him easily. Fine and Gentle did not resist as they saw Good caught, and while he was well tied, they only received something like a rope collar.

And then they were lead off, and sometimes dragged when Good tried to fight back again. It wasn’t of much use. The things were very strong, and could easily drag him.

They were led to a camp, and for a moment Good and Fine wondered what these things were doing, camping in the plain and robbing unsuspecting ponies. But then they saw the tents closer, and paled.

Hide was stretched upon wood, and stitching and stains could obviously be seen. Their tents were made from skin.

Fine moved behind Gentle and gently pushed her forward, the filly thankfully too young to know what she was seeing. Good trudged ahead of them, very worried. Tents made of skin was nothing but a bad sign, a really bad sign, and he feared for their sake.

They were led to a hitch, of the kind ponies used to hold their hats and coats, and tied the ropes to that. There were many of the strange creatures nearby, and they saw their wagon dragged to the camp as well. A fearsome cry was emitted by one of them, and more gathered to look at the wagon, and then begin unloading everything, carrying it off somewhere.

Right then, Good did not really care about their things. He was far more worried that they might be used for tents. He tried to keep his fear under control, for his wife and daughter, though they were already upset and afraid.

“Good, they are taking everything.” Fine said.

“I know dear, but we can’t do anything.” He tried to whisper. He didn’t want to attract attention. “Just wait, and try not to get their attention.”

His wife nodded and Gentle said, “Mommy, what are they doing? I don’t like the rope.”

“I know Gentle, I don’t like it either, but leave it for now.” Fine told her. “Everything is going to be just,” she looked around at the skin tents again and shuddered, “just fine.”

Gentle watched her mother and then went back to staring at the creatures. They watched more come, and one of them, a small one their size, with mottled brown fur glance over and walk to them.

They shied from it, and when it held out a carrot, Good feared what it might want to do. And then a fierce yell came from the largest, and the small one jumped, and returned to that one, glancing back with concerned eyes.

For a time, they were left alone though not unwatched. Many of the creatures stayed nearby, and several of them oftentimes looked over. There was no chance for Good to try and escape, not without trying to get himself and his family to outrun many of them. And he was not a fast runner.

So he waited, worrying about what would become of them, and then a few more came into the small area that they were in.

Dragging very dead cows.

Gentle began crying, and Fine tried to comfort her and block her sight of the scene. Particularly when the creatures slashed the cow’s throats, and left them to bleed nearby, staining green grass red. Good was suddenly thankful that he hadn’t eaten.

Back in Ponyville, Applejack had just noticed the missing cows, and the broken fence that had let them wander off in the first place. She frowned at it, and then looked, to try and spot the herd.

Then she did. They stampeded right through another portion of the fence, and then ran directly into the barn where one of them slammed the door shut. Applejack was temporarily stunned.

She had seen them frightened, and they went to the barn when they were. She had also seen them stampede, but never through the fence, and never to the barn. What was going on?

The cows refused to exit, and it took Applejack time to even get them to talk to her about what happened. They were less than helpful.

“Two of us, gone!” One of them offered.

“Red, so red!” another said.

“It was horrible!”

Applejack listened, and then told them that they could stay in the barn, and try to calm down. Then she left, heading to Ponyville to talk to Twilight, upset.

Cow thieves in Ponyville. She never would have imagined it.

Twilight didn’t either. Cow thieves were rare in Equestria, and were only found near very large groups of cows. Like in Applelossa, not near Sweet Apple Acers.

“We gotta do somethin about this Twi.” Applejack said. “Th cows are right upset, an two of em are missin, jus like they said.”

“I know Applejack, I know. We can all go and look for them just as soon as everypony is able to. I’ll call the girls, and meet you at the farm, O.K?”

Applejack agreed, and the very next day, all six of the friends were heading south, hoping to find some clue as to where the cows had gone.

Just outside of town, standing on the southern road, was a centaur, and they stopped in confusion and shock. They had dealt with a centaur before: Tirek, and seeing another was less than comforting for them. Even if he was far smaller than Tirek had been, he still stood over them, and seemed less than friendly.

Twilight recovered first, and called out, “Hello?” She was hoping that he was nothing like Tirek had been.

“Go away.” he said. “You aren’t welcome here.”

“…We were looking for some cows?” Twilight said, feeling nervous. She did not like the look to the centaur, but she was trying to be optimistic about the encounter.

“… They are dead.” The group shuddered. “They are ours, and will be eaten after they are bleed out, and butchered, and skinned, and cooked, their meat to feed us, their skin to clothe us.”

Twilight felt very ill. He was being explicit in his words, far more so than any of them could stand to hear. Dead was bad enough. Butchered and skinned was altogether too far.

As they turned green, he continued. “And if you ponies come south, you will be our next meal.” Fluttershy fainted, and the centaur turned and ran as they tried to rationalize what had just happened.

Where had the centaur come from? He made it sound like there were more of him, and that they ate meat. And then he threated that they would eat ponies! In a few words, it had gone from worried optimism, to the single worst thing that they could find.

Twilight swallowed. “…Back to Ponyville.” She managed to gasp. “Quickly. The princess needs to know this.”

The others nodded, and Rainbow picked up Fluttershy as the rest followed Twilight. They all felt weak and sickened more so than they had ever been before. They were all thinking that Tirek was a blessing compared to those centaur.