I run.
I run fast and hard, not quite sure where I have to go.
It is hot, the sounds of yells and screams and the horrible screech of the enemy sounding everywhere. Fires burn, and smoke chokes the air. But a little request, and at least my air is clean.
“Father!” I yell, trying to listen for him. I keep running, the camp familiar, even like this. Father should be nearby the front, near the center.
“Father!”
“Chosen!?”
I brighten, and father thunders to me. Even with the cuts he has, and the blood on him, he is as strong as ever. He skids to a stop near me, and turns back, watching.
“I said to leave with the others!” he yells, and then spears the first enemy to come from the smoke. More soon follow. I have to help.
“I won’t leave you!” I yell back at him, focusing as the enemy gathers. I hear fewer centaur; they are winning.
Father bellows, raging. Calm. Water is calm, and quiet. Sooth it, and then ask it, and relax…
I feel it. I ask it, and it nods.
A burst of water tosses them back, away from us. It isn’t much, but we are slightly refreshed, and they are not here.
Father reacts instantly, and grabs me before running far faster than I could ever hope to. I only hold on, and trust in father’s strength. We arrive at the stone in what feels like forever, and I see the crackling light fading.
Father tenses, and he does not take the steps. He leaps, and we both fly into the light just as it is gone.
It is almost instant. Or I think it was.
From darker stone, to blinding white, to a sudden bright sky above. From the smell of smoke and fire and battle to flowers and peace. The tribe is around us, and Father stands tall and takes charge instantly, setting me down next to him.
“What is needed!?” he demands of the nearest, Strong Arm and Eagle’s Eye.
“Nothing, chieftain.” Strong Arm says. “No enemy or threat is near us.”
“Go, make sure.”
They nod and hurry off. I look, and see the tribe worried, concerned, but hopeful. I can even see a few of the defenders have survived, and a few more stumble from the light before it is gone. I wonder at that, but it means nothing but good; more centaur warriors, here to help in what may be needed.
Teacher goes to them, as do a few others, helping the injured as father goes and begins ordering the tribe. I stay with teacher; I could do with a little wisdom and calm after battle.
“Teacher.” I call, heading to him as he works on the worst of the defenders, the others being cautiously moved.
He grins at me, most of his teeth missing in his age. “Chosen! I see you brought your father with you. You did well, very well if these old eyes see correctly.”
“Thank you teacher.” I say, smiling. I already feel better. “…Where are we?” I ask, curious.
“I am not sure. I will need some time to look and know before I can know one field from another.”
I nod.
“Now go back to your father and tell him to calm down. The tribe needs a calm leader, and not a war chief right now.”
“I shall!”
I head toward father, or rather, father’s yells, the tribe already busy. Tents need to be put up, supplies and other stuff need to be sorted and secured and used. Lots of work to do, and teacher is right; they need someone to get them in line. Father is good at that, but if he gets too tense, he is more a fighter than a leader.
“Chosen!”
I smile as my friend, Rush Wind, hurries over. He is a few seasons younger than I am, but he is always filled with energy and happiness. I enjoy having him near, and seeing his grin tells me this is truly a good place. I smile back.
“Chosen, you made it!”
“I did.” I tell him, ruffling his hair. He laughs and runs around me, beaming.
“Mother and father and brother made it too!”
“Are you happy Rush?” I say, not trying to track his motion. It makes me sick sometimes.
“I am!”
He keeps running around me, and I laugh a little at his energy. “Want to follow me?”
“Yeah!”
Finding father wasn't hard. And as soon as he sees me and Rush, he is far calmer still. I think this place is just too peaceful to keep being angry.
“Father!” I call as I go to him, and laugh as he pushes at my head, ruffling my hair.
“Gori sent you, didn’t he?” he asks, smiling.
I nod.
“Ha! Old lives never change.” father says, chuckling. “I want your opinion here Chosen. Should we stay here, or look for someplace better?”
“…What could be better?” I ask.
“The scouts can see a mountain a few days run from here. Or there is the forest nearby. We do not have to live in the field.”
“I can choose?” I ask him, wondering. He nods, and I think hard. I have to do well, impress him; father would normally choose, but he wants me to. I want to make him proud.
I lived in mountains for my whole life, but I know what a field is. I saw them a lot from the cliffs, and I saw forests too.
I’ve just never really been in one. Fields are just grass, and forests have lots of trees.
I do like mountains… but a forest sounds interesting…
“Here.” I say.
“Why?” father asks, watching me. He wants to know how I think.
“Here, the mountain is nearby, as is the forest. We can have everything if we stay here, forest, mountain, and field.” I say.
Father smiles. “Not bad. However, always remember that near does not mean close. Nor is a field always peaceful.”
I nod, only somewhat disappointed. Father knows best, and if he doesn’t, teacher does. Though… in arguments, I generally go with father. Unless teacher gets really mad.
Teacher is frightening when he’s mad.
“Why not go explore?” father suggests. “There is much to do, and you would soon grow bored.”
“I wouldn’t.” I object.
“Brother is scouting.” Rush tells me. “We can go do what he’s doing.”
I hesitate, and father gently pushes at me.
“Go with Rush. Have fun. There is no need for you to be a man quite yet.”
I huff, but nod. I want to be a man. Being big and strong and brave. I’m getting closer; just two more winters and I’ll be ready to become a man.
On the other hand, going exploring is fun, and Rush will be happy.
Rush cheers as we go, running forward only to run back to try and encourage me to run with him. It takes a little bit before I do, still unsure if I wanted to go play or stay and work.
But I think no one can resist Rush’s energy. It’s just too… much. You can’t stay upset or sad around Rush.
We find his brother, Eagle’s eye, fairly soon, and follow after him. Rush continues to charge nearby, chasing insects and going from one sight to the next. The field is filled with tiny flowers and butterflies, the grass tall and bright green. It waves in the faint wind, and the sun above shines down warm, but not hot.
It is a good day.
We find a few things as we go. Starting south and the heading north along the tribe’s western edge.
To the south, we find a river. A big one. Not one easily reached, but its fresh water, and that’s good. I think there are fish in it too.
To the west, we find a forest. And I change my mind too.
I always saw forests as a different green than fields, and I know there are trees, but…
They’re so close together, and the leaves block light. It’s hard to see within, and seems difficult to move inside of.
I don’t like it. Eagle’s eye told me that was normal to not like forests as we walked on its edge. Apparently, things inside tend to be easily tripped on, and abound with thorns and worse. But many go within anyway, as forests are filled with food, often lots of food.
The north was more and more field. After a time, the peace was getting to us, Rush slowing down and becoming sleepy. I was growing tired too, but kept going. Even Eagle’s eye was getting a bit sloppy with his scouting, but I didn’t care.
The day was too nice to care.
Then Eagle’s eye spots a dirt path in the grass, and we go to look. It weaves along the fields, hard to see at a distance, but it is there. And upon it, we spot a sign, and go to it.
It is covered in little markings, and I know what had made it, even if I can't read it.
Humans. Like centaur, but with a weird lower half. They made signs in their own tongue, and these… what did teacher call them…? Right. Roads. They were called roads, like paths, but made by humans.
“Should we tell father?” I ask. Humans tend to be a problem. They fight with centaur, and being near them encourages them to fight more.
“…The road is overgrown, and the sign is ill cared for.” Eagle’s eye says. “I doubt that this road is used at all, but perhaps we should, just in case. And for later…”
He jabs the sign with his spear, and leaves it pointing high up. Then he reaches up and ties a bit of red cloth on it.
I wonder, and Eagle’s eye says, “To find it later.”
I think that was for Rush’s benefit. Not that I didn’t also wonder what he was doing.
“…What does the sign say?” I ask him.
“I don’t know.”
Well, it was worth a try. Human tongue can be learned, it was just hard to. Teacher knows it well, though most of the tribe can only speak a few words. Curse words if teacher’s reaction to me saying them is any indication.
I bet it just names the field. That or tells of food someplace, or a good place to rest. Or some kind of warning. Centaur made signs too, and those were fairly normal messages.
I hope it isn’t a warning.
Father wasn't happy learning about it. Other scouts had found more of the road, and apparently, it was overgrown, which said it wasn't used. Father just told us to be careful and keep our eyes open.
As the rest of the tribe kept working, I wandered off a bit and settled down on the soft grass. I was tired, and could sleep now, and help later on.
The grass was actually better than I thought it would be as bedding. I wonder if I could rip a bunch up and use it like that…
I wake to a strange feeling. Something is strange. 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.”
“Then what Gori? What am I to do? What if the sun never rises again? Are we to rely upon the moon alone, or is even that going to abandon us?”
“Calm Martuk. I am sure that those fears are just that; fears. Look around us; this land cannot lose its light so easily.”
“And should our arrival have changed something?” Father asks in a quiet voice, and I see teacher hesitate. I do not like that. I go to them, fearful.
“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 feels 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, nor abandoning us. It means that something is controlling it.”
“But what Gori? What can control the skies?”
“…Gods?” Gori suggests slowly. Humans have gods, but everyone knows that they don’t exist. Teacher is teasing father with the word.
“…” Father snorts, and growls faintly, making teacher sigh.
“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.”
I am awed, unable to find words. I do not know if I should be afraid, or wondering. 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 seems 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 moves in front of 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. That or it was a bird, and I am tired. Best to ignore it.
It is almost annoying. Everything needs to be tested and learned anew before we can so much as touch it. The river is being watched as teacher does his work, and the fish within are treated like evil things.
Father allowed me to keep exploring with Eagle’s eye, though Rush was kept home by his mother. But he also said that we had to have our spears at all times.
Father’s spear is special. Big and long and old, wielded by his father, and his father’s father, and his father’s father’s father, and that father made it from special bone and wood. It never wears or breaks, and is really strong; I saw Father cut through a log with it once.
My spear was a child’s spear. Small, and weak, with a little tip and mostly used to stab rabbits. I was thirteen seasons old, and in two more, I could use an adult’s spear, but for now, I got the stupid little ones.
Father has forbidden me from scouting anymore. A ways past the sign, following the road, I saw a town. A human town, less than a day’s walk from us. He told the tribe to stay away from north altogether. And I can’t leave the tribe now.
I am currently hunting fish. If they are evil things, then less fish is good. If they turn out to be good, then I have a bunch of fish. I enjoy trying to spear them, and my shorter size makes it easier for me to get them than the other adults. I can duck lower than they can.
Then I hear a call from the camp, and hurry, to find out what had been found.
In the camp is a big tent, atop a wagon. I know wagons. Humans use them to carry lots of good things, like food, or cloths. They are stupid things though, hard to get into and demeaning to drag. A few warriors are emptying it of supplies.
I spot father speaking with Strong Arm, and near them are three foals about my size, tied to a post. One is a runt, less than half the size of the others, and I am fascinated.
They are so colorful, like flowers. Yellow, Pink, and Blue fur unlike anything I’ve ever seen on a horse. My fur is brown and tan, and father is a brown red, but the horses are so bright and colorful. And smooth too, as if someone brushed them recently.
I get along with horses. I head to them.
They are afraid, which is understandable. I wonder where the parents are. Shouldn’t the adult horses be tied to the wagon, or nearby in some way? But there is no adult horse nearby. Maybe the warriors let them run off, but why?
I reach into my pouch and draw out a carrot. They back away from me, and cower a little as I offer them it. Strange.
“Chosen!”
I jump a little at father’s yell, and look over.
“Get away from them.” he tells me.
“They are only foals father.” I say, backing away slightly.
“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 back away more, worried. They almost seem intimidating now. Something so colorful and small so strong? It gives this place a darker feel to it, something dangerous hiding under bright colors and small forms.
I listen to father, for now anyway. I want to tame them, get them nice. Normal horses can be strong too, these ones are just tiny. I just need to get them to calm down, and relax.
A few of the tribe are busy building a pen for them. I hurry over to help them.
Perspective, pony
It was a fine day in Equestria. It was almost always a fine day in Equestria, and if it was ever going to be bad, you generally had about a week’s notice.
“Good luck! Have fun!”
“We will!”
The sun was bright, and they day newly begun. A small family was preparing for a trip. Going to visit relatives to the south, taking the long path that was normally avoided. To see the sights and scenery, and get their daughter a good experience.
“Do we have everything?”
“Tools, food, supplies, extra supplies, camping equipment.”
“Sounds like everything.”
Good Growth, Fine Fur, and Gentle eyes, father, mother, and daughter respectively. Gentle was barely a filly and was excited and eager as Good finished loading the wagon, covered in case of unexpected rain.
“How soon?” she asked, bouncing around.
“A few weeks dear.” Fine told her, grabbing hold of her daughter before she could interrupt Good’s work.
“There.” Good sighed as he finished tying things down. “Everypony in.”
Fine and Gentle did so as Good got into the hitch. And then they were off, bidding goodbye to their friends that had come by to wave, and laughing as Pinkie followed them all the way to the edge of the town, calling out nigh endless variations on ‘I hope you have a good trip!’ and giving Gentle a cupcake.
The trip was well off, following an ill-used road. Destined for Trade Wind, one of the farther towns in Equestria. The trip would take weeks and possibly more; the southern way was barely used, and very, very little was between Ponyville and Trade Wind.
They kept going for a few hours, making it well into the plains before Good slowed, wondering.
“Is something wrong?” Fine asked, looking out of the wagon.
“Look ahead.” Good said, and Fine glanced up, and looked confused.
The sign that declared Ponyville just ahead had a big stick in it. With a bit of red cloth at the top, and a sharp point to keep it in the semi-rotten wood.
“…Maybe somepony wants to fix it.” Fine suggested as they reached it, Good hesitating.
“…That’s a spear.” he said, grabbing it and ripping it free. Fine frowned and Gentle poked her head free.
“What’s a spear?” Gentle asked as Good frowned at it.
“It’s something guards use to defend ponies Gentle.” Fine told her, smiling at her. Gentle nodded and went back, satisfied, and Fine glanced at Good.
“Maybe you should put it back?” she suggested, mildly concerned.
“Maybe somepony lost it? I don’t think this is a guard’s spear… it seems too big. Unwieldy almost.”
“Have you ever held a guard’s spear honey?”
“…Well… no. We should hold onto it. In case somepony lost it or something.”
“Not in here. I don’t want Gentle to hurt herself on it.”
“I have a better idea.” he said, and tossed it up, somehow getting it to stick upright on the wagon’s top. Like a flag of sorts.
Fine shifted to see it and giggled a bit. “It looks kind of funny up there.”
“Whimsical.” Good said, resuming motion.
“Maybe if it had more colors.”
“Want to make something for it?”
“Why not? Something to pass the time.”
Good smiled as Fine went back into the wagon. Sure, the spear seemed a bit odd, and why it was there was a mystery, but it didn’t look half bad up there. Like the wagon was a ship, and that was their flag, waving high above the plains, easily seen.
Good stopped after a while more, and got out of the hitch, setting the wagon’s brakes.
“Food ready?” he asked.
“Almost!” Fine called back. “You didn’t have to pack it quite so tightly!”
“Bumpy roads ahead honey! Just making sure nothing broke open.”
A pop was heard, and after a moment, Fine came out with a few apples. Gentle followed after her.
They sat together, eating their lunch. Looking out over the plains, and simply relaxing.
“Can I go play?”
“Sure. Stay nearby though.” Good said. “Make sure you can always see our flag.”
Gentle looked up and nodded, heading off.
She kept going, at her size, finding it a little hard to see in the tall grass, but always making sure she could see the spear and its red cloth. She brightened when she noted that she could see it from quite the distance; if she was taller, she bet she could see it for miles.
She reared up to see more, and looked around with a smile. Then she paused.
Dark shapes nearby. Against the sun, making them hard to see, but they were there and… heading closer?
She squinted to see them, and made out a few details.
They looked a little like ponies. Hooves, four legs, fur, even if said fur was in shades of dirt. But their heads were replaced by… something else.
Her eyes widened a bit, and she went back down and headed back, a touch worried. They looked really big, and she didn’t especially like the look of them. Best to get back to her parents.
She made it back, Fine and Good calm and not having seen anything.
“Mommy! Daddy!” Gentle cried, running to them.
“Gentle?”
“I saw things!” she said, pointing behind her.
Good and Fine looked up to hesitate, seeing the shapes as well. More able to describe the sight, but still not knowing what the creatures were.
Lower half of a pony, and head replaced with the torso of a minotaur, if said minotaur was shaved. A tuft of extra hair on the very top of their heads, with faces that were flat and slightly alien.
Fine moved Gentle behind her and Good stood up, frowning at them.
“…Good…”
“Stay still.” he muttered as they came close. A few stared at them, and the others looked at the wagon. Tiny eyes observing them.
Good noted that each carried a spear.
Spears almost identical to the one on top of their wagon right now.
Two went around the wagon, to peer within from a safe distance. Seemingly expressionless, and having spears ready. Good tried to keep an eye on them as the others looked at the exploring pair.
Then one approached the group, taking out a length of rope, and making an odd whistle sound.
Good didn’t give it a chance, and turned around and bucked it. It reared back, being surprisingly heavy and solid, and the others shouted ugly growls and guttural sounds.
Good never had much of a chance. He was soon well tied, and Fine and Gentle, both terrified and holding still, received a rope collar and leash. Two centaur controlled Good, who struggled, as the others brought Fine and Gentle and the wagon with them, heading into the plains.
Good eventually stopped struggling. Every time he did, it was mostly useless and he kept getting dragged.
“What should we do?” Fine whispered to him, trying to keep Gentle calm.
“…I don’t know.” he admitted “I don’t know.” She drooped a bit before turning back to keep up a brave face for Gentle.
The creatures kept going for some ways until a camp came into view, with many, many more of them. One of those dragging the wagon gave off some kind of scream, and others headed over.
They begins looting the wagon, but Good and Fine didn’t care. From a distance, the tents they had resembled cloth.
Up close, they could see stitches, and a slightly fuzzy look to the tents, minor stains visible.
Skin. The creatures lived in tents made from skin. Both of them gave some thanks that Gentle somehow didn’t know, and tried to stay calm. They found it hard.
What if their fate was to be a tent?
One of the creatures headed over, a smaller one, just a bit bigger than they were counting his back alone. They backed away from it, Fine hiding behind Good.
It offered a carrot, and he stared at it, sure that it was some kind of trap.
Then a fierce yell jolted them all, and an even bigger one of the creatures headed over, growling and making horrible noises. The smaller did the same at a slightly different pitch, and then headed away, looking back.
“…Dear,”
“I know.” Good said, trying to keep all of them in his line of sight at the same time. “But we’ll be fine. Just fine.”
Fine didn’t believe him.
“I don’t like the rope mommy.”
“I know dear, but just be brave for mommy, O.K? Listen to me and daddy, really, really well.”
Gentle nodded, her eyes large, and concerned, but Fine and Good managed to smile enough for her to remain semi-calm. She just told herself that it was like the dentist; you didn’t like it, it was scary and smelled weird, but it was meant to help. Somehow.
Ending up in a large pen like an animal was not very high on Good’s list of things he wanted to have happen. But it was a relieving thing to have happen; it implied that they weren’t going to be killed.
At least not right then.
The sun had set, and Fine was trying to get Gentle to sleep on the grass as Good paced the perimeter of the pen. It was located in the middle of the camp, and fairly well made; breaking it would be difficult and attract attention. And even if he did, they would have to run past the whole group, a number of which seemed to wake up only at night.
And Good knew that he was really bad at running, and that Gentle wouldn’t make it a dozen feet before she was caught. Not to mention the uncertainty of upsetting the beings, and how they might react.
He sighed, and went back to his wife, Gentle finally asleep.
Fine looked at him, fear and worry written on her face.
“I don’t see any way out.” Good whispered. “They have guards everywhere.”
Fine nodded sadly. “Are we trapped here? For how long, and for why?” she asked.
“…For the time being.” Good said. “Until somepony comes looking for us. Which won’t take too long.” he said, trying to see some ray of hope.
“Darling… this visit was supposed to be a surprise, remember?”
Good froze.
“And everypony in Ponyville won’t even suspect anything for months at the least.” Fine continued, a building despair evident in her voice. “While we stay here. With the… tents.”
She sniffled. “What’s going to happen to us?” she whispered, any kind of hope missing from her tone.
Good couldn’t find a way to respond. She was right. Their relatives had no idea they were coming, their friends in Ponyville were well aware that their trip would take weeks. Good had specified that. Several times.
Nopony would have the faintest idea that something was wrong for months. It would be winter coming on spring before somepony began wondering what was taking them. Longer than that before anypony got the idea that something might be wrong.
Nopony was going to come. They were stuck. Trapped. Imprisoned. With creatures who made homes from skin, and made horrible sounds.
Fine was keeping in her own sobs, for Gentle’s sake. Good simply laid next to her, and the pair leaned on one another. Good not really seeing anything, and Fine crying in silence.