I. Into the Mire I Must Go
On an outcropping of rock near a gently coursing stream sat a pony; well, sat was the wrong word, perhaps. They lay there, as still as death, curled up in a foetal position, with only the sound of the flowing river piercing the oppressive hush that had descended over the forest. Apart from the rhythmic undulations of their chest, there were precious few other indications that they could, in fact, be counted amongst the ranks of the living.
The pony's body was slim and fit, and the face ending in a pronounced muzzle was attractive in an impish, impudent fashion; even in slumber, the expression was permanently set to one of potential mischief. Its coat was picked out in a startling cobalt hue, but the truly dazzling detail about this particular specimen was the shock of polychromatic radiance that topped and tailed either end of it.
One's roving eye might naturally be drawn to the pony's flank; the sinewy curves were leading in that direction, anyway, but what really fired one's imagination was the depiction emblazoned on the flesh there: the image of a tricolore rainbow bursting forth from a cloud.
A potential insight into this pony's origin, maybe?
Slowly, the pony stirred into wakefulness as the cascading noise of the stream lapping against the rocks penetrated the haze of its mind. Its eyelids opened and closed several times, revealing a set of bright, inquisitive claret irises that saw but did not understand their environment.
Its muzzle opened but no words issued forth from its throat; when it tried to move its limbs, however, and discovered that they were stiff and unyielding – as if they'd gone unused in years – a loud, keening cry of pain punctured the silence. With a supreme effort of will, the pony staggered on to all four legs, shaking all the way.
A pair of majestic wings sprung forth of their own accord to act as a counterbalance to all its staggering about. The pony studied them blankly as if they were some strange, alien object attached to their body. Experimentally, they manipulated them – opening, closing, feeling the rock with feathery tips and discovering that they were just as good at picking up feedback from the environment as the hooves which capped its legs – and found that they were enormously pliable. Studying the sky, the pony said in a wondering tone of voice, “Can I fly?”
Hm. Its voice … the pony experimented with a few more words, quickly finding out that it spoke with in an assertive manner, with brashness and confidence, but its cadence was also shot through with hoydenish cracks. The pony was female, it, she, decided. A female pegasus pony, if the wings were any indication.
She approached the edge of the outcropping and peered into the river below; her own wavy reflection stared back in curiosity, as if asking, “So what now?”
Shifting her gaze to the forest around her, the pony looked for something, anything, that might be familiar about this world she found herself in; unsurprisingly, nothing seemed to be. That should've scared her, she thought, but it didn't. If anything, she felt peculiarly energised by the challenge of discovering more about this place. The thick cluster of trees with their overgrown foliage prevented her from seeing what lay beyond the immediate vicinity of what she'd come to regard as her own little clearing. “Where am I?” she asked.
Naturally, there was nothing to answer her question.
“More to the point,” she said, not even realising that she was still talking aloud, “just who am I? Why am I here?” It was a pleasant enough location, of course, but it was also … devoid. No birds wheeled through the crystal skies, no fish leapt out of the sparkling river, no woodland critters lurked in or around the trees.
Prodding at her cheek with the tip of a hoof when she felt something there, she discovered a drop of moisture. “Huh?” The tear fell to the dry, coarse ground.
All of a sudden, she felt a need for … something. Reassurance? Comfort? A voice of wisdom? She did not know. “Answers,” she said in an almost-sullen tone of voice, as if coming to believe that the forest itself was responsible for this and was toying with her in some strange manner. “I need answers.”
Catching sight of her reflection once more, she realised that she was becoming panic-stricken; striving for calm, inhaling the deep, crisp air, she knew that she had to think rationally about her situation. Answers will not come to me, so I must go to them. That means either I try flying out of here or I brave whatever dangers lurk amongst the trees.
Once she'd flexed her wings sufficiently in order to warm them up, the pony beat them as hard as she could; no matter how much effort she expended, however, she could not achieve lift. Either these things were purely decorative or there was some trick to this that she had yet to divine, but the wasted effort left her feeling a trifle more irritated. That left her with but one option: to cut through the forest in the hopes of finding a way out of here.
Still unused to the feeling of moving on four legs, the pony wobbled and lurched her way from the clearing; she chose a direction purely at random, hoping it would lead to somewhere eventually. To some, the greenness, the many colourful flowers in full bloom, might've been pretty, but to her they were an irritant to be avoided. A feeling of ominousness pervaded her. She sniffed cautiously and found herself almost overwhelmed by the perfumed scent that filled the woodland.
But there was something else, too. A dark, menacing undercurrent.
Something that set her teeth on edge.
She couldn't identify the smell, but it was … wrong, somehow. Odoriferous and decaying.
Transfixed, she watched as two massive oak trees were uprooted and sailed just close enough past her head to tug at her rainbow locks. She caught a glance of yellow eyes and a whiff of foul breath as something moved quickly through the scrub; it was almost too swift for her too follow, but her senses seemed suddenly razor-sharp now that they were flooded with adrenaline.
A tail took a swing at her; it was thick and leathery, and its length was festooned with plates of varying sizes and sharpness. Even a single blow from it would likely have shattered every bone in her body. With a speed that she didn't even realise that she possessed, the pegasus pony contorted herself and dodged it, her honed eyes following the path it cut through the gloom as it sailed just over her.
The tail ended in a bulbous knob of flesh that was probably quite the wrecking-ball on its own and almost before she even knew what she was doing, she grabbed at it with a hoof and scrabbled for purchase on the rough flesh. She found herself now being dragged along in its wake. Dimly, whatever this creature was, it had become aware of her presence as something other than just another prey to crush and devour.
She was now a challenger to its dominance of this part of the woods.
It tried its best to shake her off, but the pony persisted in her slow crawl until she had made her way over its scaly body, fast approaching its throbbing, veiny neck.
Its head was … well, what words could adequately do such untempered ferocity justice? The sharp, pronounced snout was almost bat-like, the powerful jaw seemed reptilian in origin, the rows of hooked, inward-facing fangs would've sat comfortably in the largest of sharks, and the shaggy mane of blood-red fur spoke of wild desert cats … it was clearly an apex predator. It was clearly used to being the victor in encounters such as this.
Summoning up all of her strength, the pony let loose with a whoop of defiance as she brought both hooves down on the sensitive, hollow nub where the creature's neck met its head. It howled in agony, clawing at itself; whether it was trying to dislodge her or simply reacting to and attempting to soothe its wound, she wasn't sure, but she dived out of the way before its massive paw could crush her all the same.
Landing on the ground on her hindlegs, wings akimbo to steady herself, the pony deftly turned to face the creature, sure that it was preparing a counter-attack; the shock of its injury had slowed it down some, but it was no less vicious, and it was now angry in addition. A fearsome growl that shook the trees coruscated from its ugly, distended mouth.
It would've frightened off anything with a rational bone in its body.
It charged at her.
The pony held its ground, a cavalier smile flitting across her muzzle.
Charging at a speed that few would be able to match, the beast readied to crush the tiny, insignificant pony under its enormous foot. When it had passed the spot where she'd been standing, the pony was gone.
For just a moment, the creature looked satisfied that it had won this day like so many others. Then, it realised: there were no ground-up remains either.
The beast blinked several times in confusion, looking for the pony.
Then, it felt something sharp – several somethings, as a matter of fact – something painful, sink itself into its ankle.
Had …? Yes. The pony had just dug her own teeth into its thick, gamey flesh. She spat blood and gristle out, her muzzle turning a sickly shade of green at the disgusting taste of meat that was now running down her throat.
Stumbling backwards, the creature fell over prone, its enormous claws gripping its abused ankle. Apparently, she'd struck a pretty tender spot.
The pony leapt on to the beast's stomach, locking eyes with it and regarding it with a vicious leer.
“It didn't have to be this way,” she said almost sadly. She raised a hoof, gathering every ounce of her flagging strength to deliver a finishing blow that would put an end to those cruel yellow eyes forever.
The creature kept its eyes open, never wavering from that mesmerising cerise stare. It refused to shame itself even further by cowering away in its final moments. It only hoped that its ancestors would eventually forgive it for losing to such inferior prey.
Letting loose a weary sigh, the pony jumped back on to the ground and stalked off in the direction that she'd originally chosen to pursue. “Remember this,” she said, flicking her head back at the creature as it stared after her. “Remember that today I decided to be merciful. Tomorrow is a whole other story.”
Breathing heavily, her entire body shaking from the draining encounter – spiritually as well as physically – she almost fainted, but she fought off the feeling of vertigo, the blackness that threatened to claim her; passing-out now, in a dark and dangerous forest potentially filled with more creatures just like that, would not be good for her long-term survival. The priority now had to be finding food and somewhere safe to shelter. She spied an especially tall, sturdy tree and decided that, once she'd recovered enough of her flagging strength, she'd climb it and try and get a better look at her surroundings.
For the briefest of moments, she contemplated turning back and returning to her clearing, but something deep inside herself told her, “No. Going back would be admitting defeat. Admitting failure. And I do not lose, ever!”
There had to be more to this world than just this forest.
Didn't there?
