Wuudenrahk. Wood and rock. What clever dolt ever supposed he was an un-celebrated genius for coming up with that name? No one important, that was for sure. The founder of Wuudenrahk had been the poor son of a poor lumberjack. Not too handsome and not too smart, he had simply moved his family of a wife and five foals away from the crime-ridden merchant city of Borstville, settling out in a desolate patch of barren land only a fair march from a usable water source. Here stood a single cabin on the dry rock floor, sturdy and forlorn.

No one quite knows what got it all started, but beggars, workers, merchants, and other desperate creatures began to follow in his stead. The stallion's solitude cabin became the center of what could only be described as a slum. He considered perhaps moving again, but to where? With no alternatives in mind, he instead worked to organize the chaos around him. Vendors popped up. Barracks and inns were established. A real community, cramped as it may be, began to form. One might imagine that this would make this stallion the de facto leader of what became Wuudenrahk, but not so.

He had been stung by a scorpion one day, and his time on Equus was drastically decreased. Sick and woeful, he wandered alone into the desert to die.

His children played on the floor of their cabin until they outgrew their dolls and eventually moved away. His grief-stricken wife died alone some years later. No one came to remember him. As far as anyone really knew, Wuudenrahk had simply erected overnight from the dirt.

None of this matters, of course. Wuudenrahk was destroyed, as you will soon discover. For our story begins with the chains tightly binding together the wrists of a young Pantheran named Corbyn.

The glint of moonlight reflecting off of silver fur danced along the unpainted wooden wall of the town's bulletin as Corbyn struggled. He growled loudly and miserably, making his distress widely known to the town's inhabitants. His hind legs thrashed wildly, kicking up dirt and causing him to sneeze, which only briefly paused his hissing and cursing. The odd towns-person would throw open their window and bellow at the cat to shut up, before slamming it closed again and stomping back to their beds. Corbyn, of course, paid them no regard.

Seconds went by as he wiggled uselessly, until he caught something in the corner of his eye that made him freeze. A pair of green eyes glowed brightly from the shadows. To many other creatures, the silhouette of its owner may have only been just barely visible, but Corbyn could clearly see the shape of his brother Tuesday. Corbyn felt a sense of relief, knowing that Tuesday had not in fact abandoned him to his fate. Tuesday may have even been formulating an escape plan. Corbyn nodded at his brother, audibly sighing when Tuesday nodded back.

Tuesday then slipped quietly away, disappearing from sight. Corbyn remained silent. If his brother meant to free him, then best not to continue drawing attention to himself. The only thing for him to do was to wait. Sleep was not an option, tied up and left standing with his arms raised above his head. Corbyn frowned at the post his chain was attached to, as if glaring hard enough would guilt it into releasing its grip on him.

For hours Corbyn waited patiently for Tuesday to rescue him. As the light of dawn bled into the sky, he began to worry that he would not be reunited with his brother.

I've lived well with pleasure and food and family. If the Earth wills it, I shall die with dignity, Corbyn thought to himself. In a mere few hours, he would be taken away to be executed.

But then, something happened. Something very curious to Corbyn. He heard screaming. It was rather distant at first; it had to have been from the other side of town. Then another voice joined it. Then another, and another. Within seconds the town had been filled with a cacophony of horrified voices filling the air. Corbyn winced, unable to cover his ears. Whatever could it possibly be that triggered such a horrible sound to rise from these people? Then, he saw it.

Fire.

A fire that snaked sharply through the town, building by building. It moved with such ferocity that Corbyn could have been persuaded that it was a living creature hell-bent on devouring its way through Wuudenrahk. Corbyn remained frozen, unable to keep his eyes off of it. The fire spread with great speed, and he was in the center of the town. His life would not end by any executioner's hand. His life would end with him screaming in agony as he was consumed alive by the flames.

It was now that Corbyn panicked. He strained where he stood, impossibly hoping to rip the wooden post tying his chain down out of the ground. He came very close to gnawing at his wrists, when he felt a paw bracing him against the post.

"Keep very still, won't you!" Tuesday commanded over the roaring flames. Corbyn ceased his struggling, letting his body go slack.

SSHINK!

Corbyn slumped to the ground, no longer held up by the chain. Tuesday stood over him, his large paws gripping the very ax meant to sever Corbyn's head from his shoulders.

"Stay still, I'll chop the chain holding your wrists together!"

"Careful, careful!" Corbyn cried.

TWINK!

With expert precision, or possibly a stroke of good luck, Corbyn was free. He rubbed his wrists, which were raw from the chain, then reached up to grab Tuesday's paw.

"Thanks. You didn't have to set the bloody town on fire, you know!"

Tuesday hissed as he hoisted up his older sibling. "This isn't my doing. I'm just making the best out of the situation!"

The brothers pelted away, the nearest of the flames already licking at the bulletin in front of the post Corbyn had just escaped from. The blaze had already encircled the majority of the town. Corbyn and Tuesday skidded to a stop as they watched a three-story inn crumble to the ground in their path. The screams of its occupants muffled and faded within moments.

Tuesday hissed, now just as frightened as Corbyn. "Come! Let's find a way around!"

"There is no way around!" Corbyn mewled in despair.

Tuesday whipped around to growl at Corbyn. "I did not run into a burning village for you to give up as soon as you get free! Now help me! There must be a way!"

The Pantherans soon found themselves coughing and hacking, their lungs stinging at the invasion of smoke. Back and forth they stumbled, and everywhere Wuudenrahk collapsed around them.

If only Tuesday hadn't come back for me, Corbyn wept to himself. Then only I would perish, and at least he would be alive to celebrate our succe-

"Whoa!!!"

Both brothers yowled in surprise as they tumbled over a short stone ledge. They fell for a moment or two, then were met with a great splash of water. They hastily resurfaced, gasping for air. The frigid cold made them shiver; it was a substantial change from the sweltering heat that had encompassed them only moments before. They exchanged glances, then Corbyn managed out a weak laugh.

"A well. We fell into a water well."

The two Pantherans remained silent a good while longer. The raging inferno above lasted for hours. The toms both considered themselves lucky that the sounds above were muffled. Some time after the sounds died out completely, Tuesday and Corbyn began their ascent. They clambered out of the well, dripping water onto the ground. Both clamped their mouths solemnly at the sight before them.

Wuudenrahk had been obliterated in the fire. No structure remained standing.

Over ash and charred ruins they stepped, occasionally wincing from singes. Corbyn was at a complete loss of words. Tuesday had said he didn't start the fire. What could have caused this then? How many people escaped?

The Pantherans jumped in shock at the sound of shouting behind them. A stocky stallion was angrily swearing at them in Ponish. They pretended not to understand. Behind the stallion, whose tan coat was covered in soot, a younger, short mare stared blankly at the wreckage of what used to be a family unit. It was indistinguishable from any other pile of ash, and so she could have only picked it out from the smoking ruins if she had known it well.

"We should leave," Tuesday meowed quietly. "Nothing left for us here, anymore."

Corbyn nodded in agreement. As they turned, they found their path blocked once again. But this time, it was not by the burning remains of a house full of people. Corbyn sighed.

"Oh no."

In front of them stood with white coat blackened, legs trembling, and eyes fearful, a young colt.

Author's Note

Wow. What has it been, 2, 3 years since I wrote a fanfiction? When I quit here on Fimfiction, I really thought that was the end of it. I was a lonely, depressed high school student who didn't like his writing, and now here I am: a lonely, depressed college student who doesn't like his writing. Ah well. Such is life. I feel like writing though, so even if I come to despise this as much as I did the previous ones I published here, I promise I won't delete it.