Chosen? Rarity?

Martuk was upset. He stomped through the camp, growling and none but Gori dared to approach him. His son had been missing a whole day, and none had found any hint as to his fate.

Gori was doing his best, sitting in his tent, focusing. His mind stepped from his body, and he walked in spirit, wandering the forest in his search.

It was going poorly. While spirit walking was normally hard and rendered vision foggy and blurry, the magic that inhabited near everything made them near impossible to see.

It was as if most things had great cracks in them, void where there should be something. Even the big trees were hard to discern. Gori was concerned; the world was far, far worse than he had first suspected. The elements were in chaos, blazing with the need to keep everything together.

He hadn’t called on them, but he knew that should he do so, he would either receive no response or receive a nigh overpowering one. He worried that Chosen might accidentally discover that; it would be easy to hurt himself with the power.

And yet… something other than the elements wove things together. Like gentle string of many colors, so delicate and yet unbreakable. Gori had seen nothing like it. It seemed to be the only thing keeping the world together, stretching over the cracks to hold the pieces in place.

He paused in his search, and then called himself back to his body. He open his eyes back in his tent, and sighed. While an exceptionally effective way to find things, disassociation with the body was very possible. It lead to death.

He forced his numb legs to work, and stepped from his tent. Martuk was nearby, pawing at the ground and ripping at the grass in his worry.

“Martuk, calm yourself.” he said as he stepped close.

“My only son Gori!” Martuk roared. “I will never calm until I have him back!”

“Chosen is very smart. I am sure that he is safe Martuk.”

Martuk hesitated. “Perhaps. But I do not,”

“Father!”

Gori and Martuk started, Chosen exiting the woods, waving at them. Gori smiled, and Martuk seemed unable to move for a moment.

“Father, I found you,”

Martuk grabbed onto Chosen, and lifted him into the air, holding him close. Chosen gasped, but grabbed back.

They were like that for a moment, the tribe gathering close. Martuk set Chosen down and for an instant he looked near to tears. Then he set his face into a relieved smile.

“Chosen.” Gori said, smiling.

“Teacher!”

“Did you find the woods an experience?”

Chosen made a face. “I don’t like them. I can’t see anything in there!”

Gori chuckled. Martuk then looked at the tribe.

“Gather the tribe! I wish to celebrate this! Tonight, we feast!”

“Why does Soft Hoof return the bird horse?”

“I wanted to speak with you Chosen.”

Chosen stared at his teacher, and Gori took a breath.

“Are you unharmed from the wood, or are you hiding something?” he asked.

“Nothing. I am unhurt teacher.”

“Your hand seemed unsteady Chosen. You were overly rough with the wing, and your cutting was worse than before. Perhaps your time in the woods has left you shaken.”

Chosen looked down, and Gori waited. They had just finished clipping the bird horse’s wings again, and Gori was wondering if Chosen was feeling as good as he claimed.

Chosen had done an oddly bad job, breaking feathers, pulling out some of the down, and often leaving them shattered. Gori knew that it must have been and was going to be a painful experience for the horse.

Gori had also been surprised when the bird horse had awoken; she shouldn’t have recovered so fast. It was a simple mixture that should have kept her asleep for some time, and not terrified as they were working.

After a moment he sighed. “Take some rest Chosen.”

Chosen nodded and left the tent. He glanced over at the pen, and saw the horses gathered near the unresponsive Soft Cloud and nodded slowly. He smiled.

Then he went elsewhere, and gathered a few things. When asked, his response was that it ‘was for a surprise.’

Perspective, pony

Soft Cloud was doing better. Her feathers were slowly coming back in and after becoming friends with Good and Fine, she was dealing with her imprisonment far better.

Good sighed, looking at their current food. Another one of the beings had given them food, and it was usually cut grass. Nothing like the vegetables and treats that the little one brought them.

Fine was worried about him; he had never forgone visiting them, and yet, they hadn’t seen him for a while.

“Grass?” Fine asked.

“Yep. Old grass.”

Soft made a disgusted sound. “I don’t get it. Where is the good stuff?”

“I don’t know.” Good said.

“I do hope the little one is alright. Maybe he’s sick?”

“No way for us to find out.” Soft commented. Good tried the grass before scrunching his face up. It was a struggle for him to swallow it and the moment he did so he took a massive gulp of water from the trough the beings had given them.

“That’s bad.”

Soft groaned, and Gentle looked up at Fine. “Do I have to eat that?” she asked. Fine shook her head, but Gentle added, “I’m hungry mommy.”

Soft glanced away, and stopped. “Hey!” she said, pointing. The others looked and their faces brightened. The little one was nearby.

They went toward him, and Fine called out, “There you are!”

He glanced toward them, but something was off. He smiled, but he didn’t come closer.

The big one called for him, and for just an instant they thought they saw a look of contempt pass over his face as he turned to hurry after the large one.

Good and Fine were confused. “That was odd.” Soft said. “He doesn’t do that normally.”

“He doesn’t…” Fine murmured. “Maybe he is sick, or…”

“Maybe we were imagining things, and he has stuff to do.” Good said. “For that matter, the old one is heading this way.”

They glanced, and watched Gori enter the pen. Soft started; something about him was distressing her, but she wasn’t sure what.

He went to the group, and with a single swipe, drew something across Soft’s muzzle. She only had time to gasp before fainting, and with a single motion, the old one heaved her up and headed away with her.

Good and Fine didn’t respond until he was gone, too shocked. What had just happened?

Soft stirred. She felt numb, and discovered that she was well tied. One of her wings was being held, and every now and then she felt a gentle tug.

She was in one of the tents, a large one by the look of it. She tried to see what was happening, but a firm hand held her still. A few half grown feathers floated past her, and she realized.

The old one was clipping her wings!

She jerked, and then screamed, feeling something slice into a wing. She heard their growls, and she was temporarily let go. She rolled, trying to make it away.

She hadn’t made it far before the little one grabbed onto her. She stared at the feathers, her feathers, littering the ground and the old one with the knife in his hand.

The old one said something, and the little one responded. She was a little panicked, but they were more than enough to get her to hold still. And the knives near her wings. She had jerked once; she didn’t want to again.

So she closed her eyes and tried to endure it, a few tears escaping. A pegais’ wings were precious, as was the feathers. Soft held her own in high regard.

To have them manipulated and clipped was not only degrading, it was near invasive for her.

She would gasp every now and then, and after a while, just cried. One of her wings was being near abused, and she cried from the pain of it. From the knowledge of what was happening to her wings.

She wasn’t really responsive when somepony put her back in the pen, only standing there for a moment before going to lie down, Fine trying to help her feel better.

She couldn’t really feel better. She felt like she was in a nightmare, and despite the fact that it wasn’t as bad as she originally thought, it was horrible in different ways. The little one had done a terrible job on her wing too; broken feathers that were going to need to be pulled out were common.

It hadn’t been that way when her wings were first cut, but Soft knew that she was going to be in a bit of pain and discomfort for a few days.

It was growing later in Ponyville. Twilight was in her castle, doing her very best to try and figure out the best way to approach the centaur. Everything was calm, peaceful, and nopony thought that something might happen.

Sweetie Belle was with her own friends in their clubhouse when she heard something.

“Sweetie!” she heard her sister call.

All three fillies blinked; Rarity almost never came to the clubhouse.

“Sweetie!”

“Rarity!?” she called out, peering from the window to spot the white unicorn waiting outside.

“Sweetie, come here! I have something to tell you!”

Sweetie glanced at the others. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I suppose…”

“Come on Sweetie! I’ll see you bright and early.” Scootaloo promised.

“I got farm work, but I’ll try ta get here fast.” Applebloom added.

Sweetie bid them farewell, and headed to Rarity.

“I thought you said that you… didn’t like the clubhouse.” she said.

“Some things are more important than things I do not like. Besides, I don’t have to spend too much time here.”

Sweetie perked up. If something was important enough for Rarity to come to the clubhouse, it was a good thing. Rarity wasn’t upset or crying. Therefore, it was a good thing. She wondered what it was.

“What is it?” she asked.

“A surprise. Follow me dear.”

Sweetie did so, pondering what it could be. She couldn’t really guess; with Rarity, it was hard to have an idea of what ‘a surprise’ could be. It could be lots of things.

Like a new fashion design for fillies, or some kind of business contract for Rarity. Or maybe an actual gift, or some kind of good news for Sweetie. Like, she could stay over at Applebloom’s for a while, or maybe Rarity was going to offer to help expand the clubhouse.

Or Rarity wanted to give her something, and was just being sneaky about it. Of course, that meant the gift could be anything. Rarity tried, but she was bad at giving gifts. She bought for herself, and didn’t really understand other’s likes and dislikes.

Of course, Sweetie would still like it. It was a gift from her sister after all. If it was a gift. Which it might not be. Maybe Rarity had given her a hint?

‘Some things are more important than things I do not like.’ Something that was… actually; since when had Rarity ever said something like that?

Rarity would never put up with something for a surprise. She might to help somepony, but not for a surprise. She would wait at the boutique for Sweetie to return, and then tell/give her it.

‘A surprise. Follow me dear.’ Dear. Dear. Not darling. Not Sweetie, not any nickname, degrading or otherwise. Dear. Sweetie had a realization.

Rarity never said dear. She considered it too uncultured. Rarity would never say dear. And if Rarity would never say dear, and was acting out of place…

Rarity was not the pony in front of her. Mystery solved.

But then who was she following?

She focused again, and saw ‘Rarity’ still in front of her. She opened her mouth to say something when ‘Rarity’ stopped.

“We’re here!” she said, turning around. Sweetie glanced around and froze. They were in the Everfree. Sweetie couldn’t even tell where they had just come from.

“Do you want your surprise now dear?”

Sweetie backed a step away from her, trying and failing to recall how they had gotten there. She had been daydreaming too much.

“You’re not Rarity.” she said.

‘Rarity’ cocked her head. “Whatever do you mean dear? Or course I’m Rarity. Who else could I be?”

“You’re… you just look like her, somehow.” Sweetie bumped into a tree and silently bemoaned her chances.

‘Rarity’ frowned. “Are you sure?” she asked.

“Rarity wouldn’t ever say ‘dear’.” Sweetie said with conviction.

“Figures.” ‘Rarity’ said, her voice the same but her speech suddenly different. “I obviously didn’t spend the right time watching. Verbal ticks, I should have known. No matter though.”

Sweetie turned, and didn’t make it a single step before floating into the air.

“Uh, uh, uh, my little sister.”

“I’m not your sister!” Sweetie yelled, struggling uselessly.

“Fine. Quit wiggling my little prey.” 'Rarity' sang, smiling.

Sweetie froze, her eyes growing huge. “Don’t eat me!” she screamed, resuming her thrashing, more so than before.

‘Rarity’ laughed. She stayed that way for a moment, hearing Sweetie’s yells of things like ‘I don’t taste good!’ and ‘HELP!’ If anything, her smile grew wider.

“I’m not going to eat you.” She said, and Sweetie slowly calmed.

“What did you do to Rarity!?”

“Nothing.”

“What..! What are you going to do to me?” she asked fearfully.

“Simple. I am going to leave you in the woods, and watch as you struggle to find your way back, being hunted by the creatures here. I will watch you run, terrified and exhausted and dirty as you run just to survive. And you will know that I will be there, staring at your every breath, your every moment, drinking in that terror and maybe even pain.”

“The others are good, but you will be far, far better little Sweetie Belle. In fact…”

Sweetie screamed as something sliced into her rear leg.

“A simple handicap, to make sure I get that pain.” Sweetie was rotated to stare into ‘Rarity’s’ eyes. “Have a good time out there.”

Then she was thrown, sailing over the trees before crashing through them and into a bush in some pain. Her leg was the worst though; even moving it was painful, and left her unable to truly run.

She got to her hooves and began leaving as fast as she could, directly opposite where ‘Rarity’ was laughing.

“I almost forgot! Surprise!” she heard call after her, and Sweetie pushed herself a little harder, the laughter following after her.

Something nearby roared, and Sweetie sobbed, rushing into the bushes. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, and even painful, especially with her leg, but she felt a little safer. She began heading through them, determined to try and make it back to Ponyville. Or Zecora. Or Sweet Apple Acers, anywhere that she could be safe again.

Something big passed nearby, and she huddled up, trying to not whimper too loudly. And despite being completely hidden by the bushes, she could somehow know that ‘Rarity’ was watching. And enjoying every moment of pain and terror.

She made it a fair ways before night fell, leaving a crying filly mostly blind in the darkness of her hiding places. She fumbled about for someplace clear, and discovered a hole in a tree. Just big enough for her and maybe enough to keep her hidden.

She stuffed herself inside, her leg bleeding, covered in little cuts, already dirty. It was small, and uncomfortable, but it was something.

She sobbed, and tried to stifle herself with her own hooves, hearing the Everfree’s monster’s calls. She couldn’t stop herself from crying; the little filly torn from her home and tossed into the wild.

She half expected for something to find her and eat her any moment.

For a moment she wanted somepony to find her, but then she remembered ‘Rarity’. Would the mare stop them from finding her? Do something to them? Was it going to be better for somepony to find her, or for them to never find her again?

She imagined her friends finding ‘Rarity’, and being led astray. Being hurt and thrown into the Everfree, and she cried harder.

Rescue was unlikely, and if it did come, it might just be worse than being lost in the Everfree alone.