Journey to Equestria

by Aldrigold

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character, Adventure
Length: 25781

The only hope for three ponies who wish for freedom is a legend of a place called Equestria

Three hundred years before the banishment of Nightmare Moon, the world was a very different place—and some ponies lived very different lives. A pegasus who serves the gryphons of Eaglesburg is fed up with the way he and his fellow ponies are treated. But escape from the cruel gryphon overlords seems impossible, and he has little hope.

Then his grandfather tells him of a legend—a young country ruled by kind pony princesses, where pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies can live peacefully. The pegasus and his earth pony friend, along with a small unicorn filly who is in immediate danger from her gryphon masters, make a daring escape. They head north toward their only hope for freedom—the land of Equestria.

Published 2012-08-18 02:14:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-09-29 04:41:19 UTC

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“You! Blue!”

The blue-coated pegasus opened his eyes, lifting a weary head. A gryphon stood over him, talons by his nose, the gryphon's golden-yellow eyes narrowed. A paper and quill hovered by the gryphon’s shoulder, levitated by a droopy eyed purple unicorn who didn’t meet Blue’s gaze.

"Clear the skies, now!” the gryphon snapped.

Blue blinked slowly. It was much to soon for him to fly again. He had cleared the skies yesterday. No pegasus was permitted to fly two days in a row.

“Are you deaf? I said get to work!” The gryphon glared at Blue, his long talons digging into the ground in annoyance. The unicorn behind him took one step back, her hip bones jutting.

“Yes sir!” Blue responded reflexively. His wings tensed up at the thought of flying, and he hadn’t even left the ground yet. Someone must have made a mistake, but Blue didn’t dare correct the overseer. Best just to go along with it, for both his and the unicorn’s sake. He forced contrition into his voice. “Forgive me sir, I just worked a shift recently and didn’t realize you meant for me to fly again already.”

“Do you see any other blue pegasi around?!” the gryphon asked, taking a step forward to stare into Blue’s eyes, the quill bumping his shoulder. “Don’t make excuses. Get moving!” His beak snapped an inch from Blue's nose, the stench of carrion making Blue's eyes water.

“Yes sir!” Blue tried to feign enthusiasm, but knew he wasn’t convincing.

“And you!” The gryphon wheeled around and with a casual slap of his talons knocked the unicorn to the ground, mud splattering her coat and the paper list and quill fluttering into the gryphon’s claws. “What did I tell you about being careful with the quill?”

Blue winced in sympathy, but he knew he couldn’t stick around or he’d risk the same treatment. With a loping canter and a few beats of his wings, Blue took off towards the sky with just enough haste to appease his masters, each wing beat aggravating muscles still sore from his previous flight. He often wondered if he would become a better flier if he practiced each day, but of course the gryphons wouldn’t allow any pegasus to try.

His grandfather sometimes spoke of pegasi who loved flying, who flew just for the fun of it. But everyone knew Blue's grandfather was crazy. Of all the difficulties of life in Eaglesburg, Blue hated flying the most. Clearing the skies for the gryphons on his shifts left him exhausted every evening on flight days, his wings sore and weak.

Of course, he would never disobey the gryphons. No sane pegasus would. If one did, the gryphons would make sure that pegasus never flew again.

Below him, the purple unicorn struggled to her feet, trudging after her master. Blue sighed and beat his wings, turning away.

He let himself glide on a warm thermal that buoyed him up higher, circling slowly over the city. The harsh stone aeries of the gryphon masters met his eyes, and he swerved out of the way of the spires as he gained altitude. Pegasi were never allowed in the aeries. Only unicorn servants, like that Purple, were permitted.

As he flew higher, the fields stretched out below him, the small tents that pegasi and earth ponies lived in dotting the landscape. To the left the mine entrance lay, its appearance from this height nothing more than a steep dark hole in the ground. A unicorn, his horn a dim glow at this distance, searched for gems by the entrance while a gryphon watched.

The fence surrounded all of it. The unicorns had been forced to build it before Blue was born, a fence of magically melded metal, the wire at the top so sharp at the top it would cut. Blue could fly over it, into the deep forest beyond…but gryphons posted at every juncture would catch him immediately. They watched all day, every day.

Blue turned away. It was time to work.

Puffy clouds dotted the sky in a patchwork of blue and white, and Blue joined a dozen or so other pegasi swerving through the air as they struggled to clear them. A pegasus with a goldenrod coat kicked fruitlessly at a thick stratus, her mane limp and her legs shaking. She swooped away in a dive, giving her shaking legs a chance to rest before she came back up to try again when a Gryphon shrieked a warning. Blue winced at the high pitched eagle's call, a constant sound in Eaglesburg.

Condensation mingled with sweat streamed down Blue’s face as he worked, the keen eyes of the gryphon overseers a constant weight as he destroyed cloud after cloud with strained, precise kicks. His wings and back burned with fatigue as he worked to maintain altitude while performing the task.

Another gryphon, his wingspan dwarfing the rest, swiftly approached one of the overseers from below. A few young pegasi stopped to watch while the smarter ones flew above the clouds to avoid his gaze while they continued to work.

Adrenaline overcame fatigue, and Blue raced to get out of sight, shuddering involuntarily in recognition of the new arrival.

Rikarr, the head enforcer, had entered the work area. The largest, strongest gryphon of all of them, who took great pleasure in the power his position gave him.

Rikarr flew towards the pegasi, his mottled brown wings spread wide, and he buffeted the air with powerful flaps as he landed on a cloud, creating a rush of air that could knock a weak flyer to the ground.

“You all look tired,” Rikarr said flatly, standing tall on the cloud and looking directly at Blue. Blue’s stomach dropped. He had been so preoccupied with backing away that he’d forgotten about his work. He kicked frantically at the nearest cloud, then rushed to the next, heart pounding.

“Mandatory break for all pegasi!” Rikarr commanded. “Go to the center square to rest. Stay as long as you like, but no longer than fifteen minutes. I still expect the skies to be cleared by noon.” Rikarr flew ahead to the village square, leaving several confused pegasi in his wake.

“Stay as long as you want?” a young Red said to no one in particular. “Why would anyone stay less than the full fifteen minutes?”

“No talking!” one of the gryphon overseers snapped. The Red’s eyes widened, and she hurriedly ducked her head and headed down to the ground.

Blue grabbed a small cloud and set it above a crowd of ponies circled around the perimeter of the center square. Above his head the central aerie loomed, a monstrous stone tower that housed Rikarr and his hunting squadron. At the base of the tower, four armored gryphons surrounded an orange-maned yellow unicorn, a rope staking the unlucky pony to the ground.

As soon as Blue lowered himself onto the cloud, the unicorn's frightened, roving gaze met his. This was no droopy-eyed unicorn slave who had abandoned all hope.

But rescue was impossible. Dozens of gryphons circled overhead.

It was too much for Blue, and he turned to look away from the unicorn only to see several others in the crowd do the same.

His heart began to pound, and not from fatigue. In the seventeen years he’d been alive, Blue had never seen a demonstration like this. He hoped the gryphons would not make them watch to the end.

Rikarr dove to the center of the circle, landing with his back to the unicorn. “We give you food,” he said to an attentive audience. “We give you shelter.” Blue looked to the small tents and hovels that made up the pony’s homes. “Most of all, we give you protection from predators and other dangers of the outside world. All we ask in return is that you work the mines and fields,” his gaze swiveled to the earth ponies, “serve us,” now he looked to the few unicorns who were present, “and keep the weather under control.” He looked straight at Blue as he spoke, and Blue swallowed hard.

Even from his perch on the cloud, Blue saw the unicorn trembling as he stared at the ground. Nearby, another green unicorn and a younger, green unicorn filly with a red mane stood, their eyes riveted to Rikarr.

“You all have magical gifts that can help us,” Rikarr continued. “But you are weak, and need our protection to survive. Our arrangement benefits us both, which is why I feel shocked, even betrayed, on those rare occasions when a pony like this Yellow chooses to turn his power against us. When this happens, we have no choice but to remove that pony’s gifts so that we may continue serving the remaining ponies without being hindered by the dissenter.

“Yellow refused to detect gold during his shift in the mine. When asked to return to work, he magically assaulted the gryphons who oversaw his shift. Since he cannot control his abilities, we are forced ensure that he will never again use them to harm our community.”

Blue’s stomach turned. He suspected what was coming. His mother had spoken of it once, as a warning. Earth ponies who disobeyed were chained. Pegasi’s wings were broken. And unicorns…they suffered the worst punishment, for they never recovered from a dehorning.

He had never seen one before, and hoped it wasn’t true.

Rikarr raised his talons, the tips long and razor-edged with shining metal extensions. They had been forged by the unicorns, one of whom he was now about to mutilate and punish.

An earth pony with a brown coat and mane stamped the ground once, rushing in front of the tiny red-maned unicorn filly Blue had noticed earlier. Blue met the earth pony's eyes—Brown, who often brought his grandfather extra food. Blue almost wished someone would block his view, because he couldn’t look away.

The sun glinted off the metal-tipped talons.

Then it grew dark, the metal going dull. A blinding light shone from the green-coated unicorn who stood next to the filly, and the green unicorn’s voice boomed. “Leave my husband alone!”

Two gryphons leapt for the unicorn with piercing eagle shrieks, their claws rending her sides. But it was too late.

A clap of thunder boomed overhead, the hairs on Blue’s coat standing on end like they did when he flew after a storm. Lightning rained from the sky, like a thousand pegasi had kicked clouds at once, cracking the ground and scorching the earth. Rikarr shrieked, the bolts closest to him drawn to the metal talon extensions, and fell onto the ground.

The spell ended as quickly as it had begun. The unicorn’s bloody flanks heaved, the glow fading from her horn. There was no sound, and no one moved, pony or gryphon.

For a moment, Blue wanted to flee, the forest beyond the fence beckoning. This was it. This was his chance. No one was watching.

Then Rikarr stirred, his yellow eyes opening. He slowly got to his feet, the metal, now a useless charred lump, falling off of his talons. Still long. Still sharp.

“Kill her,” he commanded. Then with a swipe of his talons he ripped the horn from the yellow unicorn’s forehead. The Yellow hit the ground, his eyes suddenly distant.

Blue’s heart beat so hard he heard it in his head. He noticed Brown speak to the droopy eyed purple unicorn, then herd the small filly away from the scene as the gryphons approached.

Blue turned his back on the village square and flew toward Brown.

***

Lightning had scorched the grass where Blue landed, and it crunched under his hooves. His flanks heaved, the image of the gryphons rending the unicorn fresh in his mind. All she had done was defend her husband. All she had done…

“Blue.” Brown’s voice brought him back to reality. Brown nuzzled the small green filly, the little one’s orange mane bright against Brown’s dull coat. “Those were her parents,” Brown said.

Blue’s stomach twisted. The filly’s eyes were wide, unseeing. In shock.

Blue looked around. Nopony else was within hearing range of their small group, most of the pegasi already back to clearing clouds. There were a few other earth ponies nearby, the rest either in the fields or in the mines, and the unicorns…they were being railed at by Rikarr. Blue winced when he heard a dull smack.

No gryphons noticed their group for now. They would when he or Brown would have to be sent back to work. They always split up ponies who spoke together, who called each other anything other than their gryphon-given names, “Blue” or “Brown.” After their coats.

Rage bloomed in his chest, surprising him. Fear he knew, annoyance he was familiar with. But this hot rage that now boiled in his chest when he looked at the helpless unicorn filly, heard Rikarr’s words as he told the unicorns once again how lucky they were…His wings trembled.

Then he noticed the fence. In one spot, the lightning had melted the metal to slag, the cutting wires fallen to the ground. Beyond it lay a thick forest.

Any pegasus who flew over the fence got caught by the gryphons. They could fly faster and see farther, than a pony ever could. But through the fence, in the forest…

“Blue.” Brown’s voice brought him back once more. The earth pony stared at him, the small filly leaning against her legs. “What do we do with her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Her mother was powerful. That means she might be. The gryphons…”

Blue’s eyes widened. He understood. The filly trembled.

Blue was very glad he wasn’t a unicorn.

“Blue!” A gryphon’s voice, no doubt calling him back to work.

Blue wanted to tell Brown to run. The fence was broken, and in the forest they would have the best chance.

But no. Not now. Not ever. It would only be a matter of time. No one escaped the gryphons.

There was nowhere for ponies to go.

***

Blue sat in his family’s tent, the space barely big enough for the three of them, and nowhere near big enough for the addition of his grandfather, who always ate with them. Three ratty blankets lay on the muddy ground in the corner, marking where Blue and his mother and father slept. Cold air crept through the ripped cloth tarp. No matter how often the gryphons ordered them to work, the pegasi couldn’t change the temperature.

“That unicorn did a number on things,” Blue's mother said. Her wings were shriveled and useless, always folded tightly to her back. Years of flying and work had ruined them, she always said. Blue didn’t believe her. “The fencing is broken.”

Blue stared at the moldy carrots that were his meal. He wanted to speak, to ask why the gryphons had killed the unicorn instead of dehorning her, but he couldn’t. Not after seeing it.

Besides, there was no reason. It was just fact. Gryphons ruled. A broken fence didn’t change that.

“I like fencing,” his grandfather spoke. “Tastes good.”

Blue ignored his grandfather, as he often did. The small green filly wouldn’t leave his mind. He wondered where she was now, if Brown was taking care of her…and how long the gryphons would wait before dehorning her. Or killing her, the way they had killed her mother.

“I wish we could leave,” Blue spoke. A carrot fell from his father’s mouth.

“Don’t speak like that!” he said. “You saw what happened to that unicorn. You know what they do to anyone who tries to escape.” His eyes flicked to Blue’s mother.

“Munch munch munch,” his grandfather added. “Snapping bone. Like fencing. Fencing tastes good, you know. Wood is chewy.” Blue’s stomach churned.

“Besides, there’s nowhere to go. You know that,” his mother added. Her eyes drooped, just like the unicorn from this morning, and Blue looked back to his moldy meal.

“I know, I know. I just…” the image of the gryphons attacking the unicorn mare, and Rikarr’s talons crushing and ripping the horn…claws through bone. He shuddered, his wings tight against his back.

That filly was doomed.

“I need some air,” he said. His mother nodded.

“Be careful,” she said. She never called him Blue, always looking into his eyes as she spoke. Blue knew how much she hated the names the gryphons gave them, but everyone knew what would happen if you used a different name in front of the gryphons. Best to avoid the habit at all.

She was always cautious. It must be what happened to ponies, Blue thought, after they tried and failed to escape.

He left the dinner table, heading outside. He liked the night air, the bright stars overhead. Save for the guard, most gryphons slept at night, and it was the only time Blue ever felt free.

It was an illusion, of course. Ponies could never be free. Not with the gryphons everywhere. Attempt escape and he’d never fly again, chained to the ground with broken wings. Worse than an earth pony, as he would be a constant example.

Like his mother.

He tossed his head, his dark blue mane flopping over his neck. He looked up at the moon, at the stars. At least they were free.

Hoofbeats on grass met his ears, and his grandfather trotted up beside him. “Flying at night is great fun, my boy,” he said. “The Shadowbolts are great flyers, always at night.”

Blue snorted. More nonsense. Most of what his grandfather spoke was nonsense, these days.

“Don’t snort at the royal guard of the Princess Luna!” the old pony scolded. “Or was it Celestia…no, there were two princesses.”

“Princesses of what?” Blue asked, half listening. There were no princesses here, that was for sure. The gryphons had no need for royalty. It was just whoever was strongest and toughest. Like Rikarr.

“Why, the princesses of ponies, of course!”

Blue wanted to dismiss it, like he usually dismissed all of his grandfather’s ramblings, but something made him listen. Maybe it was the gloom after the horrible day. “Princesses of ponies?”

“Of course!” His grandfather pranced in a circle. “Luna and Celestia! Rulers of the free ponies!”

“Quiet!” Blue nudged his grandfather. Saying something like “Free ponies” was a great way to get in a lot of trouble. Using weird names like “Luna” and “Celestia” was bad enough.

“You don’t want to hear about the princesses?” His grandfather drooped.

Blue sighed. “Yes, tell me about them. Maybe it’ll be a good story.”

His grandfather tilted his head, looking up at the moon. “Follow me then, and I’ll tell you! I'll tell you all about it!” He cantered in a circle, then headed toward his tent—a hovel, really, less than half the size of the small tarp that gave Blue and his parents shelter.

Blue sighed. He might as well.

“A land where ponies are unique snowflakes!” His grandfather babbled happily as he trotted into his home. “Not like here where they make everyone call us both Blue even though your coat’s more of a dusk blue and mine looks like poison joke. They even sport cutie marks to show the world why they’re special!”

Blue followed his grandfather inside the old pony's home. It smelled old and musty, and Blue’s eyes watered as he stifled a sneeze. He hadn’t spent much time here since his grandfather’s mind had started going.

A rock flew past Blue’s head, and he blinked. His grandfather dug through what looked like trash—all of the items he collected when he was bored, Blue guessed. Considering he was too old to fly shifts, there must be a lot of them. Blue rolled his eyes as a few more stones clattered to the floor next to him.

Then his grandfather tossed his head, something unfurling onto the floor in front of him. Blue’s eyes widened, his gaze riveted to the banner. Two ponies, one light and one dark, with wings and horns. There were no such banners in Eaglesburg. If the gryphons found it...

“It’s no story,” his grandfather said, and suddenly his gaze changed, the light brightening in his eyes. “It’s real. A real kingdom, where ponies rule—the land of Equestria.”

Chapter 2

The clouds had covered the moon hours ago as the night stretched on toward a cloudy morning. His parents slept nearby, their forms dim in the pale morning light streaming in through the thin tarp. Blue stared at the banner that lay on the floor—the two princess ponies, Luna and Celestia. The rulers of a land of free ponies.

His grandfather had spent hours telling him about Equestria, and the words swam in his mind. Equestria. Free ponies. Pegasi who could fly whenever they wished, taking to the sky as easily as they walked. Unicorns had magic that those here could only dream of, and the earth ponies grew so much food that everyone had more than they could eat.

And they had something called cutie marks, a symbol of a pony’s special talent. Blue looked at his own flank, the coat a deep blue. He wasn’t sure he believed his grandfather about that last one. He had never seen a pony with such a thing here.

Then again, under the gryphons’ control, nopony was allowed to explore their own special talent.

Blue sighed at the sound of a piercing eagle screech overhead. Meal time. Then a long day—of what, he wasn’t sure. Today would have been his shift, but since he had cleared clouds yesterday, his schedule may have changed. The gryphons would surely tell him.

He wished he could check on Brown and the filly, but his friend would probably be working in the fields. Earth ponies were always working.

He rolled up the banner before his parents could wake, stuffing it under his moth-eaten bedding. The swirling ponies stayed in his mind as he left the tent. The winged, horned ponies…the break in the fence.

He shivered, his Grandfather's words just before Blue had gone home the night before echoing in his mind. “Do you know why I am telling you this, Blue? It’s because you have to leave. You have to escape. Go north. Find Equestria. Save us.”

His heart thudded. There was somewhere to go. At least, there was a chance.

And he had a whole day to plan.

The air was heavy on his coat, the sky overhead the deep, colorless grey of storm clouds. Their efforts yesterday had been fruitless—that or the atmosphere was messed up due to the unicorn’s magic. Blue liked to think so. The last revenge of a heroic unicorn.

Blue’s grandfather’s tent was easy to spot in the daylight—it always leaned a bit to one side, as if constantly blown by a breeze that didn’t exist. He hurried over to it. Grandfather might forget to eat if not reminded.

His grandfather burst from the tent entrance as Blue approached. “The sun has been raised!” The old pony pranced in circles. “What a wonderful day!”

Rain plopped on Blue’s back as he trotted closer. Right. A wonderful day. “So, tell me more about Equestria,” he said under his breath as they headed together toward the breakfast troughs. “How do I get there?”

His grandfather stared at him, his eyes dull and unseeing. “Equestriwhat?”

***

He had forgotten. Of course he had. His grandfather was old, much older than any other pony Blue knew of. Most of the time he didn’t even make sense.

Equestria probably wasn’t even real. The banner could be anything—maybe someone had sewn it. Maybe his grandfather made it, with all the free time he had.

“Blue.” Blue didn’t look up—there were plenty of Blue ponies clustered around the feeding troughs, gulping down the thin mashed hay—until Brown nudged him.

The earth pony stared at him with worried eyes. “Blue, are you working today?”

“I…I don’t know.” He looked around, but the gryphon guards at the feeding troughs were currently screeching at someone else for talking. Blue’s ears lowered. “Maybe,” he said more quietly.

“Come with me after breakfast,” Brown whispered. Blue nodded, shoving his head back in the trough as the gryphons looked up. Good thing their hearing wasn’t as good as their eyesight.

As soon as they had grabbed their last mouthfuls, Brown led him to the fields. The ground here was churned to mud by the hooves of earth ponies who had been hauling carts of food, and further on Blue could make out careful rows of plowed ground. Bits of green stuck out of the dirt in the distance.

Further on, they made it to the earth pony tents, set far apart from each other. The gryphons did not like ponies to congregate in large numbers, and when they did, like at the meal troughs, they weren’t permitted to talk.

Brown’s tent was mud splattered, but it smelled strangely of mint. Inside, there was only one blanket. Brown’s parents were dead, though Blue didn’t know what had happened. Overwork, probably. His mother always spoke of earth ponies who died of overwork, the gryphons quickly putting down those who injured themselves and became a hindrance.

Blue realized at that moment how lucky his grandfather was that he had his children to take care of him.

“Greenie!” Brown’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Blue frowned, instinctively checking for gryphons. Even using a small name change like adding an endearment could be worth a beating if any gryphon heard it. Brown didn’t seem to care as she darted inside the tent, looking around until she saw the small green unicorn filly huddled under a blanket. “Blue, help me out here.”

Blue sighed and pulled the blanket off the filly while Brown lay down next to her. “C’mon, Greenie, you have to go with Blue. His grandfather will watch you.”

It clicked. “Wait, Brown…”

“What? It’s a good solution. Your grandfather doesn’t work, and she’s too young. She has to hide. If she doesn’t, they’ll dehorn her, or worse.” Blue winced. The filly didn’t react.

“What about the other unicorns?” Blue asked. “Can’t they—”

Brown stood up, not censoring her words in front of the filly. “Her mother is dead, and her father is catatonic. If she stays with the other unicorns, the gryphons will find her immediately. They’re probably already looking. We’re the only chance she has.”

“But…” Blue’s protests died as he stared at the filly, who rested limply on the ground. “Has she eaten?”

“Nothing. Not since yesterday.”

Blue sighed. “Fine. Come on. Quickly!” He raised his voice, and the small filly got to her feet, the group heading outside the tent. “I’ll introduce you to my grandfather. He’ll…take care of you.” Blue wasn’t certain his grandfather was capable, but if he couldn’t do it, Blue’s mother could when she wasn’t in the fields with the earth ponies.

He wondered if there was a punishment for hiding a unicorn, then put it out of his mind. It wasn’t like they were escaping with her.

The thought brought back the story of Equestria. If it were only real…he ached to tell Brown about it.

Then enormous wings blocked the grey sky, and Blue froze as Rikarr dropped to a landing in front of them. He had replaced his ruined talon extensions, and the metal glittered.

“How odd, to see an earth pony, a pegasus, and a unicorn all together.” Rikarr’s eyes were narrowed, the gold irises flicking from one pony to the next. Then they settled on Green.

“Ah, I’ve been looking for this one. How nice of you to find her for me.” Blue's stomach dropped.

Rikarr lifted a claw and beckoned with a talon. “Come with me, Green,” he said in an eerily inviting voice as he towered over the ponies. “I promise this will be quick and painless.” Green blinked and took a step back, the first sign of emotion Blue had ever seen from her.

The images from yesterday’s dehorning flashed through Blue’s mind. The unicorn’s eyes glazing over, life bleeding out of his would-be protector’s torn flesh… If Rikarr had his way, it would happen again, and to a filly too young to live on her own.

His heart pounded, his jaw tense. There was nothing they could do.

Brown met Blue’s eyes for a brief moment before looking back to Rikarr. “Please have mercy, sir,” Brown pleaded, stepping defensively in front of Green, who sank to the ground, staring at a blade of grass and shaking. “This Green has done nothing wrong.”

Rikarr slowly tapped the ground with a long talon, staring past Brown. “It is true that she has not yet committed any crime. However, both of her parents had great power as well as the desire to use that power to attack our society. It is likely that their filly contains these traits as well, and it would be a disservice to both ponies and gryphons to allow this threat to persist. I am not going to hurt her, merely remove the source of that power which is a danger to us all.” Blue hated the gryphon all the more for his flowery words, the steel cruelty obvious beneath them.

“Please sir. I’ve seen unicorns after a dehorning, and that’s hardly a life worth living.” Brown slowly lowered her head and knelt submissively before Rikarr. “Her parents have already paid for their crime. I’m begging you, don’t punish Green for their transgressions.” Her voice broke as she spoke, and determination flared in Blue's chest. They had to try.

Rikarr paused, and Blue wondered if he should also bow. He was about to, when Rikarr spoke up. “Yes, you might be right,” he said softly.

Blue froze. Had it been that easy?

“It does take time to recover from a dehorning,” Rikarr continued. “Green has lost her mother, and her father has just begun the healing process.” Green flinched, and Blue almost snorted. There was no healing after a dehorning. “There is no one to help her get back on her hooves. It would be too cruel, wouldn’t it?”

Blue couldn’t believe it. He immediately lay his forehead on the ground before Rikarr’s talons. “Thank y—”

“You are right to protest my judgment,” Rikarr said, tossing Brown a thoughtful look. “As you say, a life like that is hardly a life worth living. In this particular case a mercy killing would be kinder.”

Blue couldn’t help himself. He rose quickly and jumped back, his wings flaring in shock. Brown maintained her posture but quivered slightly, in fear or in rage he could not say.

“Wait,” Brown yelped, still kneeling. “We could take care of her, help her recover from the dehorning. That may still be more merciful.”

“You’d both be too busy with your duties to give her the attention she would need,” Rikarr said with a dismissive wave of his talons.

“Blue’s grandfather,” Brown cried. “He’s too old to work. He could watch her.”

“You care for this Green, don’t you?” Rikarr asked, gesturing towards the filly with an open talon.

“Ye-yes sir. Please…”

“Then…” Rikarr tilted his head. “Why don’t you two accompany her? You can comfort her, help make the process as painless as possible. I’m not unkind. I would not let a filly die alone when she could be in the company of friends.”

“Sir?” Blue spoke up, his stomach twisting into knots.

“Yes, I insist. You two should come too. Tell her it will be all right while I do what must be done.” Rikarr met Blue’s eyes. “Reassure her that it will all be over soon.” Rikarr would have sounded soothing were it not for his words and the cruel light that danced behind his eyes.

Blue’s mind raced. His eyes fell to the filly, trembling behind Brown. If she really did have amazing magic powers, now would be the time to use them. This was more that he could handle. There had to be some excuse. Any excuse. Blue thought of the hole in the fence. Even just a day would be enough. Think! There had to be something.

A drop of rain landed on Blue’s nose.

“I can’t do that now sir,” Blue said, breathing deep and willing his heart to stop pounding so hard. “My weather shift is about to start.”

“I give you permission to take off,” Rikarr offered. “After all, we did give you an extra shift yesterday.”

“But today is my scheduled shift, sir," he said desperately, "and from the look of it they really need my help.” The rain grew heavy, matting down his coat, and lightning flashed in the distance. “It would be, as you often say, a disservice to both ponies and gryphons if I don’t help clear this.”

Seconds dragged on, Blue's heart pounding. Brown didn't move from the ground, water dripping from her mane into her eyes as the rain built into a steady rush against the grass.

Finally Rikarr broke the silence. “Very well. I see no reason to rush this. I will meet all three of you outside the meal tent after breakfast tomorrow. Don’t be absent. I don’t enjoy having to deal with ponies who disobey.” He stretched forward, as if waking from a nap, talons and long lion’s claws on his back legs digging into the ground.

Blue could hardly stand, his legs shuddering violently. Fear. Anger. Hatred. Relief. All blended together inside him such that he could not tell them apart.

“Blue,” Rikarr calmly spoke his name.

“Y-yes sir?”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Blue pumped his wings, making another pass over the rain-spattered fields where Brown was pulling carrots out of the ground, Green almost invisible in the grass next to her. Only the unicorn’s red mane stood out.

Tonight. They had to escape tonight. Before the gryphons fixed the fence, and before Rikarr could get to Green. There was no other way.

They had to leave. He had to believe in Equestria. It was that or give up.

“Pay attention, Blue!” Despite the presence of a light-blue pegasus about twenty yards to his left, Blue knew the overseer was referring to him. He flapped his aching wings harder to spin the clouds in a circle, moving them away from the gryphon’s aeries. It was slow going and had been all day, and after the third day of flying in a row, every muscle hurt.

It was only after hours of fruitless cloud herding, soaked to the bone from rain and heart beating hard from exertion and watching out for the errant lightning bolt, that the overseer let him land. Clouds still covered the pony’s living areas—only the gryphons would have any relief from the rain. Blue headed immediately toward Brown.

As the day wore on, the earth pony had been given the stomach-turning task of de-feathering the gryphon’s kills—chickens, with wings that looked far too similar to Blue’s own. They looked even more similar to the gryphons wings, of course, but the brutes didn’t care.

“Blue,” Brown looked up, spitting out a mouthful of feathers with the words. Green lay in a quiet ball on the ground, staring at the forest. “What have we done?”

“It’s—”

“He’s going to kill her!” Brown said, lowering her voice. “Dehorning…at least she would have been alive! There would be hope!”

Blue narrowed his eyes. “He’s not killing her, or dehorning her,” he said, raising his voice just enough so that Green could hear. “We’re leaving.” Green actually looked up at him, her eyes huge and still full of fear.

Brown’s eyes widened, and she looked around her. “Blue, that’s…crazy.”

It was. Especially considering his grandfather was the one who had told him about Equestria, and he was probably crazy too. But it was their only chance.

“I’m not crazy. The fence is broken. They can’t fix it before tonight, and gryphons don’t see well in the dark. We can leave!” Brown opened her mouth to say something, and he raised a hoof to silence her. “We’re going to a safe place. To the north. A place called Equestria.”

“Blue…” Brown looked to the filly, and then at the dead chickens that littered the ground at her feet. “They’ll kill us.”

“They’re going to kill her anyway,” Blue said, and he felt heartless when the filly flinched again, just like she had when Rikarr had spoken this morning. “They’re killing all of us. This isn’t….this isn’t how ponies are supposed to live!” The stories his grandfather had told of Equestria went through his mind. He had to make her understand. “Brown, Equestria is a place where ponies live freely—pegasi fly as fast as any gryphon, and earth ponies grow food—food of their own, not plucking dead meat for carnivores.” He kicked a dead chicken. “And they have cutie marks—symbols of their talents, on their flanks. It’s like magic!”

“That sounds crazy, Blue,” Brown said.

“I’ve seen a flank symbol before,” Green said suddenly, and both Blue and Brown froze.

The filly spoke quietly, not quite looking at them, her gaze still trained to the forest beyond the fence. “A Red inside the aerie got one. It was a picture of a raindrop.”

“What happened to him?” Brown asked. “Was that his talent?”

“I don’t know,” Green answered. “The gryphons took him away. I never saw him again.”

Blue turned to Brown. “You see?” he said quietly.

“Is it safe there?” Brown said. “If we actually got away…”

“It is. It’s real.” Blue wished he were surer of that. “We have to leave. To save Green.”

Brown sighed. Then she froze when a gryphon approached. “Hurry up with my dinner!” he called. "And stop talking!"

“Think it over,” Blue said. “I’ll be…” he thought frantically as the gryphon grew closer. “Under that tree, tonight. High Moon. You too, Green. You want to get out of here, don’t you?”

Green blinked, looking once to the gryphon and then back to Blue. She nodded.

Brown nodded once, or it may have been a dip of the head to pull more feathers off the chicken. Blue lowered his head in respect to the gryphon and hurried back to his tent.

He had questions to ask and plans to make.

***

Blue and his grandfather sat outside in the light drizzle after their dinner. Food, water, and a blanket, as well as the old banner, lay in a small, discreet bag on his back.

His stomach twisted in increasingly intricate knots as the moon rose higher. He hadn’t told his plans to anyone other than Brown and Green. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't take his parents—the larger the party, the greater the chance of getting caught. If he even spoke of it, it would only put them in danger.

And his grandfather was far too old. At least the gryphons wouldn’t trust a thing he said. His age would save him.

“So, Grandfather,” Blue began.

“Wha?” His grandfather lifted his head, his eyes dull. “You want a marble?”

“No. Grandfather, you said…um, if I wanted to go north, which way would I go?”

His grandfather snorted, tossing his head. “North? Why, up, of course!” He looked straight up, rain falling in his eyes. He blinked.

“No, Grandfather. North, not up. You know…if I wanted to walk.”

The old pegasus stayed silent for a few moments, still staring at the sky. Blue was about to give up and ask his parents when his grandfather finally spoke. “That star.”

Blue walked over, staring up also. “What star?”

His grandfather snorted again. “You little colts don’t know anything.” Blue rolled his eyes, but this wasn’t the first time his grandfather had called him, a nearly full grown pony, a colt. “That one! The one in the middle of the two spoons. See?” He traced his hoof, and slowly Blue made out the “spoons.”

“That bright one?” he asked.

“That’s the one!” His grandfather stood and pranced in a circle, never looking away from the star. “The North Star. It never moves—you can follow it to the end of the earth! Until you end up back where you started, of course.”

Blue stared at it for a while. The North Star. His beacon to Equestria.

“Thank you, Grandfather,” he said, and the old pony met his eyes. “Thank you very much.”

His grandfather’s eyes narrowed, a light kindling there for a moment. Then it was gone, and Blue turned away, heading toward the center of the fields.

And then, to Equestria.

***

Lighting flashed across the night sky as he approached the tree. Two shapes huddled underneath it.

“Blue.” Brown met his eyes in the dark. “You realize this is crazy. I’m only doing this for her.”

“I know.” Blue regarded the filly, who got to her feet. He hoped she had something to eat earlier.

“So, Blue. What’s the plan?”

Blue took a deep breath. He had never led anyone before. All his life, he had listened to the gryphons, obeying commands without thinking.

Now that would change.

“Alright. We need to get out of the compound through the hole in the fence.” The filly just blinked at him. “Once we’re out, we run. Gryphons see amazingly well during the day, but their night vision is bad. We need to get as far into the forest as we can and then hide once the sun is up. We’re going to be traveling at night from here on out.”

“How do we get through the fence?” Green whispered, her voice barely audible. “They have guards on every post.”

“I know. That’s where I come in.” Blue stretched his wings, the muscles protesting. “I’m going to make a low pass to get a ground fog. Then we head right for the hole. As soon as I touch down, we go.”

“Blue…” Brown met his eyes. “This is too risky. What if you get caught?”

“If I get caught…you go, while they’re distracted. Go north. You see that star?” He pointed, the same way his grandfather had. “Follow that one.”

The two other ponies stared at the sky. “It’s brighter than the others,” Brown said. Then she shook her head. “No. You’d better not mess up, Blue. We’re all going together.”

Blue sighed. “Just trust me. If I don’t make it, go on. For her.”

Brown just nodded. “ Hold this,” Blue said, giving her the bag. Brown stared, then finally nodded again and took it.

“How will we know when we get there?” Green asked.

Blue paused. “You’ll know,” he said. Then he flapped his wings and took off.

Only adrenaline kept his hooves off the ground. Flying this low was dangerous on a good day—one mistake, one unfortunate gust of wind, and he’d be tumbling head over hoof. But he had to do it. He couldn’t waste this chance.

That hole in the fence wouldn’t go unrepaired forever, and Green had no time as it was.

Blue zipped along the ground, collecting small wisps of cloud fluff—barely more than dew. He circled the earth pony tents near the fence, listening to the soft snores from inside as he arced around them. Cold air whisked around his body, and he brought up the fog everywhere he went, spreading it around the compound, condensing it in spots so that it would seep everywhere once left on its own. Above him, the dark shapes of the gryphon’s aeries loomed.

His heart began to pound, and the muscles in his wings burned, but he pushed on. There would be no flying for days after this. He just had to get through it.

The fog grew, billowing across the fields—and across the fence.

He turned in a wide circle, heading toward the tree. His wings folded painfully across his back as his low glide turned into a trot. “Now!” he hissed between rapid breaths.

Brown and the filly overtook him immediately, and he pushed his aching body to follow. A full gallop through thick fog, heading toward the hole in the fence. Toward freedom. His hooves churned the ground, wet from rain, and a stitch formed in his side, his heart leaping in his chest. The fence grew closer, looming through the fog.

They would make it!

“Hey!” An eagle screech sent a spear through his heart. “What was that?”

The filly froze in mid gallop and fell, sliding on her side through the mud. Brown stopped and bumped into her, nudging her to get to her feet. Blue struggled to catch up. If they stopped, they were dead.

A heavy shape passed over them in the fog, circling, and Blue’s gut churned.

They might already be dead. If not, it was broken wings for him, like his mother, and for Brown, it would be shackled hooves for the rest of her life. And Green…

“I thought I heard something, down there!”

Blue froze as he caught up to the other two, Green barely stumbling to her feet. This was it. He had failed. The gryphons would find them, and find the banner in his bag. Then no one would ever hear of Equestria again.

Blue shut his eyes and waited for the gryphon’s talons.

“Hey! I can fly!”

What? Blue turned, trying to peer through the fog, his mind a jumble. That was grandfather’s voice.

“Hey you gryphons! I can fly! Right over the south side of the fence, over here! Here I goooo!”

“Stop!” the shadow overhead bellowed, his voice deafeningly loud. Then it disappeared, arcing toward the south side of the compound.

Toward Grandfather.

No.

Blue turned to go back for him, aching wings spreading to take flight once again. “Can’t catch me!” Grandfather shouted, his voice full of laughter and startlingly free of the confusion that usually plagued it. Just like when he had spoken of Equestria.

“Blue!” He stopped at Brown’s voice, looking over his shoulder toward her and Green. “This is our chance,” she said.

“But…”

“Blue.” Brown stepped closer, staring at Blue. She was taller than he was, he realized. “Don’t. They’ll catch you too.”

“They’ll take his wings!” Blue hissed, looking forward, listening for his grandfather. He only heard the angry shrieks of the gryphons. He tried to take off, but Brown reached out with her foreleg and held him down by the shoulder.

“You can’t stop it,” she said, her eyes sad. “If you go back…” she shook her head. “You need to use this opening he gave you to escape with us.”

“But—”

“He did this for you,” Brown said, her voice low. “I’m sorry.”

“Blue.” This time it was Green who spoke. “Are we going?”

Blue stomped the ground with one hoof, not looking at the others. Grandfather. That stupid, crazy pony. Blue hadn’t even known the old pony could still fly.

He would come back for him. After he made it to Equestria and learned to outfly any gryphon, he would come back for all of them.

“Alright,” he said to Brown and Green. The unicorn had gotten to her feet. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The small group of ponies charged through the hole in the fence, and this time no gryphon stopped them.

Chapter 4

Brown’s heart pounded as they ran.

The forest was dark, brambles scratching at their hooves and ankles they galloped. Blue took the lead, his wings tight against his body, his form a shadow ahead of Brown. She kept a close eye on Green, who barely maintained her position directly between them, her shorter legs giving her stride the sound of a fast beating heart.

This was their only chance. No pursuit would come now, not in the dark of night, not when Blue’s grandfather had bought them time.

But pursuit would come later, and they needed to get as far away as they could. Until now, the forest had been nothing but a darkness beyond the fence that marked the boundary of her life. Now it was life that surrounded her and soil under her feet, a path toward freedom.

Green was the first to flag, losing speed so that she ran next to Brown rather than ahead of her.

“Keep going,” Brown urged, her voice choked with exhaustion. “We can’t waste this opportunity.” She wondered if Blue heard. If he did, he gave no sign.

Green didn’t respond, but picked up speed once again.

They ran until the sky turned pink, leaping over fallen trees and splashing through muddy puddles that the storm had left. Finally Green faltered once more, tripping and crashing horn over hooves.

“Blue, stop!” Brown yelled.

The pegasus skidded, leaves whirling around his hooves as he turned. His eyes widened when he saw Green, who stumbled to her feet, mud covered flanks heaving. There was no way she could be pushed any more.

“We need to rest,” Brown said between gasps.

“No…I can.” Green took a few weaving steps forward, and Brown moved next to her, allowing the filly to rest her head against Brown’s flank.

Blue narrowed his eyes, and he and Brown exchanged glances. “It’s getting light anyway. We should find shelter,” he spoke softly to Green.

“Can you fly?” Brown asked. “You could find us—”

“No.” Blue shook his head, a twig falling out of his mane. “If I fly, we raise the risk of them seeing us. We’re on foot for as long as we can be. Besides…I’m too tired,” he admitted.

Brown frowned, but nodded. Blue had worked hard to get them here. Now it was her turn. “Follow me then. I’ll find us somewhere safe.”

***

The group slowed to a walk for the next few hours. Every so often Brown looked up to a sky that was mostly hidden by interlacing branches and the tops of green trees. It was so different from the stone aeries.

“I’m hungry,” Green said quietly, breaking the silence. The sun’s rays had begun to lance over the horizon, the coldest part of the morning over.

Brown sighed. She was glad the young unicorn was finally willing to eat, but wished she had eaten more before they left.

No, that was unkind. She had been in shock.

Blue nipped a leaf off of the nearest bush and spat it out immediately. “Bleh! Well, don’t eat that.”

Brown pawed at the ground, looking over the growth. “Don’t worry, Green. We won’t get carrots or anything like that out here, but we earth ponies know how to look for extra treats. The gryphons never fed us enough for all the work they had us do. Look for clover, they’re usually everywhere. Ferns and brushes are also great, and they should grow in a dim place like this.” Rich black soil clung to her hooves. “We could farm a lot out here,” she said with a sigh.

“We can’t stay,” Blue said.

“I know that,” Brown said, tossing her head to dislodge her mane from a thorny bush. “Most things are edible out here, Green, just avoid anything bitter.”

“Okay.” The filly nipped at the growth around them as they walked, avoiding the leaves Blue had sampled.

Brown walked ahead of the group, wishing the sun would go back down. They wouldn’t want for food, but they needed shelter. Breakfast must have ended by now, and Rikaar surely realized they had fled to avoid Green’s execution. It wouldn’t be long before he sent out a hunting party to bring them back.

The trees here were huge, but the canopy wasn’t thick enough to offer shelter. A cave would be best…the gryphon’s aeries were completely made of rock, so there had to be one around here somewhere. She kept her eyes peeled as they walked, sensing the earth under her hooves. It held so much life, with a mix of mineral thrown in. Maybe if she followed where she felt the most minerals…

The sound of an eagle’s screech in the distance sent adrenaline sparking through her body. Heart pumping blood filled with icy fear, she scanned the sky, dimly aware of Blue and Green freezing in place next to her.

She knew that screech. It was no mere gryphon guard.

Rikarr had come for them.

The sun was only partially to its place at the height of the sky, but the shadows had grown shorter as the morning went on. Fear overwhelmed her, her body frozen, as Rikarr shrieked again, the sound distant but unmistakably the shrill cry of an eagle coordinating a hunt. They were out of time.

“We have to find shelter,” Blue said. “Now.”

***

“Keep going, Greenie,” Brown nickered, supporting her when Green fell again. “We have to keep going.” This time, at least, Blue didn’t frown when she called Green Greenie. Using different names would be the least of their worries if they were caught.

Blue was also starting to stumble. They had entered the darkest, most overgrown part of the forest they could find, and going was slow. With two exhausted ponies, it was glacial.

Even Brown began to feel fatigue, but she shoved the sensation away. She wouldn’t stop. She had spent long hours farming for the stupid gryphons from fillyhood, picking up the workload her parents had left her when they died. She wasn’t tired, and she wasn’t going to let the gryphons catch her.

She kicked a branch out of her way, the force sending it against a tree. A very big, very dead tree.

“Stop,” Brown said. She stared at the tree, at the gnarled roots that were protruding from the ground.

It was no cave. But it would have to do.

“What are you…?” Blue tilted his head as Brown approached the tree. She knew what to do, but the angle had to be perfect.

Brown turned and kicked the tree as hard as she could, dead leaves and brittle branches falling to the ground around her. The shock set her teeth rattling, but this was no worse than hauling enormous carts filled with gems, or shoving huge rocks out of the way to clear a path. She kicked again, the tree creaking at the impact.

“Kick higher,” Blue said, obviously having understood what she was doing. “That’ll get it.”

Brown supported herself on her front legs and arched her back, kicking as high and as powerfully as she could. A root snapped from the ground.

“Move!” Blue called, and Brown leaped out of the way as the tree began to fall, the roots ripping from the earth and arcing over her head. The tree landed with a tremendous crash, leaves pluming into the air.

And then silence. The roots jutted from the tree, forming an overhang, and cover from the sky—and from gryphons.

“Come on, Green,” Brown said, pride entering her voice. “I’ve found us a place to sleep.”

Blue stared at the sky, his wings tight against his back. "I don't know. The gryphons will have heard that."

Brown sighed. "It's the only shelter we've found, and Green is exhausted. It was this or be caught in the open. Do you have a better idea?"

Blue swiveled his ears as he stared at the sky. "No. But we have to be careful."

***

“Should have expected that,” Blue remarked. “I didn’t even have the chance to get the blanket I brought.” Green had curled up immediately upon entering the cover of the fallen tree, asleep before her head touched the ground.

“She needs the rest,” Brown said. “More than any of us. I don’t think she got any at all since…” she trailed off, the image of Green’s father and mother in her mind, and she shuddered.

“Don’t worry,” Blue said. He swiveled his ears. "I guess the tree trick worked. We got lucky." He grinned. "We’re free now."

“We’re not safe yet,” Brown said.

“Yeah, but we’re free!” Blue spread his wings, wincing slightly.

Brown nodded in sympathy. “You flew for three shifts in a row, and you made that fog yesterday. You need to rest too. I’ll keep watch.”

“Not yet.” Blue peered at the roots overhead. “I will, but not until we’re safe too. As safe as possible, anyway.”

Brown sighed. “Well then, tell me more about Equestria.”

Blue smiled. “I’ll do something better—I’ll show you.” Dusk swung his bag off his back, opening it and unfurling something over the ground.

Brown stared at it. A white banner, with two ponies. “Horns and wings?! I’ve never seen a pony like that.”

“They’re the princesses of Equestria,” Blue said. “My grandfather said they watch over all ponies in their borders. The white is Celestia, she raises the sun, and the black is Luna, she raises the moon.”

“Celestia and Luna,” Brown repeated. “Now those are some unusual names.”

“Unique snowflakes…” Blue said thoughtfully, eyes distant for just a moment.

“Huh?” Brown asked, tilting her head to one side.

“Oh, nothing. Just something my grandfather said about ponies in Equestria being individuals and not named for the color of their coat.” His eyes narrowed. “You know, I’ve always hated the name ‘Blue’. There were lots of blue pegasi.”

“You think you had it bad? Try being called ‘Brown.’” Brown snorted. “After a day plowing the fields, every earth pony was brown.”

A sad smile formed on Blue’s face. “You know what? Let’s give ourselves new names. We’re done with the gryphons, so let’s ditch the labels they’ve assigned us. What’s my new name?” He stood up, puffing out his chest, his wings spread.

Brown laughed. “Rooster.”

“Hey!”

“What? It fits.”

Blue smirked, folding his wings again. “Very funny.” His eyes grew shadowed for a moment. “He said my coat was dusk-blue. My grandfather… I think I’ll call myself Dusk. It’s a good name. He would approve.”

Brown nodded, the forest quiet for a moment. “I’m sure he would.”

“Of course, that would make his name Poison Joke,” Blue said, chuckling sadly. Then he shook his head as though getting rid of a buzzing fly. “Okay, your turn.”

Brown raised her head, thinking back to her parents, a memory of their soft voices calling her by a different name winding through her mind. She wished she could remember what it was.

She wondered if the gryphons had heard it, and if that’s why they had always worked them harder than anypony else.

“I… I don’t know. You decide. What’s my name?”

“Hmm…” Blue, now Dusk, tilted his head. “Well, you are brown, but your mane is lighter. How about Amber?”

“Like the stone?” Brown thought for a moment. It didn’t sound familiar, but it fit. “Yeah, I like that. Amber.” She swiveled her gaze to Green. She wondered what the little unicorn’s name would be.

She smiled to herself. The new names…it was like they had chased away some of the gryphons, just by renaming themselves. One step further away from their old life.

One more step toward Equestria.

***

The grypon’s shrieks could be heard periodically as the day went on, but the three ponies were not found. Finally satisfied with their shelter, Dusk had lay down to rest while Amber kept watch. It was almost peaceful, until partway through the afternoon when the sound of Rikarr’s shriek grew deafening.

Dusk woke and froze, his wings half spread. The two ponies stood motionless. Amber couldn’t pinpoint Rikarr’s call. He could be anywhere.

An answering shriek assailed Amber’s ears, and she swiveled them. This one was to the left. Rikarr had brought a squadron, all for them. But why couldn’t she locate Rikarr?

If they were caught…a shiver went through her body.

Leaves rustled and suddenly Green shot past Amber before she could react, toward where the sun illuminated the leaves outside of the shelter of the fallen tree. Green's eyes were wide and her hoofbeats frantic.

Dusk leaped, leaves skirling as he knocked her flat and clapped a hoof over her mouth. “Don’t move, don’t even breathe,” Dusk said, his ears swerving. “Rikarr is directly overhead, but he can’t find us here.”

Green’s flanks heaved in quick breaths despite Dusk’s words, her eyes roaming the small shelter. “Sh, it’s alright.” Amber knelt down next to Green, who's body trembled and shook the leaves around them. “We’re safe here."

The other gryphon shrieked again, and when Rikarr answered, he sounded farther away.

“Keep your voices low,” Dusk said. He herded Green toward the back of the shelter, the dark trunk of the tree growing oppressive as they wedged themselves against it. Green’s shivers wouldn’t stop.

“We have to wait until nightfall,” Dusk said. “You can’t go charging outside now.”

“I’m sorry.” Green’s voice was small. “I was scared.”

Amber could understand. Her own heart was galloping a mile a minute, even though their shelter had hid them. They were safe for now.

But they still had a long way to go, and she had a sinking feeling that Rikarr wouldn’t give up anytime soon.

Chapter 5

Crickets chirping broke through the quiet evening, and the sound made Amber open her eyes. A soft nose nudged her shoulder.

“Blue—Dusk—says we have to go,” Green said, a dim form in their dark shelter. Amber nodded, getting to her feet and stretching her limbs.

“You’re Amber now, right?” Green said, her big eyes blinking.

“Yes.” Amber tossed her head, ridding herself of the last grasp of sleepiness. They had a long way to go, and they had to cover as much ground as possible before the sun came up and the gryphons found them.

The night was black and the forest oppressive, but overhead through the branches the Milky Way splashed across the sky. The North Star shone brightly, and Amber smiled as she spotted it. Their beacon to Equestria.

“We go north from here,” Dusk said. “We don’t have to rush anymore, but lets keep a good pace. Gryphons don’t have great vision after dark, but we can’t take any risks and knowing Rikarr, they’ll still be hunting for us. We’ll head north, toward those mountains.”

“I’ll keep up,” Green said.

The group set out, Dusk once again taking the lead, expertly avoiding low hanging branches and clinging vines as they walked. Her own vision was nowhere near as good. She had only the sense of the earth under her hooves to keep from stumbling on the brambles and reaching thorns that littered the path, and every so often a low hanging branch would catch her face or brush dangerously close to her eyes.

Between the two of them, they kept Green safe. The two older ponies shepherded the small filly between them, Amber careful to make sure she did not fall behind or wander off in the dark.

As Amber walked, she enjoyed the sense of the earth underfoot, the healthy green fertility of the soil. Soft loam was crushed underhoof, springing up as she moved her weight, and the dirt and mud mushed beneath her hooves.

Then there was nothing for a brief moment, her sense of the earth underhoof vanishing. No fertility, no life, not even a sense of rock. Just…emptiness, for a short distance underground. She almost froze.

“Green, what would you like your new name to be?” Dusk asked as he walked, oblivious to Amber's confusion.

Amber shook her head, putting the flash of emptiness out of her mind. It must be due to stress. No earth pony ever lost their sense of the ground beneath their hooves.

Green stayed silent for a moment, the only sound the steady crush of leaves underhoof. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “Can I choose later?”

“Sure,” Dusk said, his voice bright and steady. The rest had really helped him, Amber thought. Maybe he could try and fly. “There’s no rush.”

“I want to wait until I get my symbol. My…cutie mark, right?” Green looked back to Amber for a moment. “Once I do, I’ll figure out what my name is.”

“That sounds fine.” Amber nodded, distracted as the sense of fertile life underhoof gave way once again to the strange emptiness as she put her hooves down.

Oh well. Something odd in the ground was probably the least important thing they had to worry about.

***

Their path took them through increasingly thicker woodland, and soon even Dusk had slowed to a steady walk. Amber began munching on plants as they walked, pointing out especially good ones to Green. The group plucked ferns and grasses, but learned to avoid the tubers and blades that scraped their lips and gums and were not particularly filling.

They walked past a thick tree, and suddenly something fell with a sharp thud directly in front of Green. She jumped in fright, skittering behind Amber.

Dusk whirled, wings spread. “What is it?”

“Calm down,” Amber nuzzled Green out from behind her and carefully approached the fallen object. Then she snorted a laugh.

“It’s a chestnut.” She looked up at the branches spreading over them. “A chestnut tree.” The small round shapes were barely visible in the blackness. “We’ve found breakfast.”

“Oh. Well, good job, Green,” Dusk said, folding his wings and trotting over. “Are they good?”

“As long as you don’t eat the leaves,” Amber said, studying the tree. “Let me get a few more for us.” She bunched her legs, getting ready to kick.

“Don’t!” Green hissed, but it was too late. The sound cracked across the quiet night, chestnuts raining down from the branches onto their heads.

Then an eerie sound filled the air, like birds chirping but shriller and with a higher pitch, and Amber’s muscles froze.

“Duck!” Dusk yelled, and Amber hit the ground, the soft soil underneath cushioning her. Over their heads thousands of tiny shapes darted through the sky, the sound of an uncountable number of wingbeats whooshing through the air deafening for a moment.

Then it was over, a dark cloud of creatures ascending into the sky and blocking the stars in an ever-expanding pattern of darting dots. Gradually, their high-pitched peeping and the sound of their wings faded away, leaving the black night silent.

“What was that?” Amber asked, her heart pounding. She pushed herself back up, trying to ignore the shaking in her legs. “What were those things?”

“Bats,” Green said, her voice small. “A lot of them. They live in trees and sometimes in the mines. My mom used to complain about them.”

Dusk peered up at the dark sky, but Amber could not make out the shape of the swarm any longer. “They just flew away,” she said. “They don’t seem dangerous.”

“They’re not the danger,” Dusk said. “If Rikarr is still around…”

Amber’s pride in her strength shriveled. “I thought that gryphons couldn’t see well in the dark?”

“Neither can ponies, but a giant swarm of bats is pretty obvious,” Dusk said, his voice tight. “And like I said, knowing Rikarr, he has gryphons hunting for us overnight by this point. That tree shelter trick won't work twice. We have to move quickly now. Forget the chestnuts.”

Amber wished they could have stayed and eaten, but knew it was foolish. Worse, she felt stupid. She had only wanted to help, and hadn’t even thought to check for things like those bats. Even Green had known about them.

As they set off once again, pushing as fast as they could through the trees, Amber kept a far more wary eye on the forest around them, every sense alert. They were being hunted, she reminded herself, looking to the side and sensing the earth with every step. Every mark of their passage, every disturbed animal, could be used by a hunter to track them down.

And Rikarr, like most gryphons, was an experienced hunter. Amber could not count the number of times the gryphons had brought back meat to be cured, hauled or de-feathered. She usually tried not to think about it, but now the memories of all those deer and boar with broken necks and raked to the bone with talon slashes came back to her.

They were not safe in the forest. The unease crept up on her like a smothering blanket, and then cemented into fear. They had to get somewhere else. Somewhere where gryphons would be as lost and confused as they were.

“Hoo hoo!”

Dusk skidded to a stop at the noise, Green nearly crashing into him. A dark winged shape darted overhead, the sound echoing once more. “Hoo hoo!”

An owl. Owls hunted in the dark. It could be nothing, but Amber’s muscles tightened, a wave of fear washing over her. Another sign the gryphons could use to find them.

“What do we do?” Green whispered. She sensed it too.

“We keep going,” Dusk said, starting forward once again. “We find somewhere safe.” A branch snapped under his hoof, and Amber winced.

“Where?” Amber said, trotting so she and Dusk were side by side. “It may be dark, but…there is nowhere safe.”

“Don’t think that way.” Weak words, and Dusk seemed to know it, not looking Amber’s way. “They have poor night vision. We’ll be fine.”

The owl hooted again. Then a piercing shriek split the air above their heads.

“Keep going!” Dusk hissed. “Don't stop!”

Amber looked up at the sky, using the sense of the earth under her hooves to keep from running into a tree. The small shape of the owl zipped overhead once more, but that was all.

Owls couldn’t speak, she knew. But if a gryphon wanted to hunt at night, owls were at least smart enough to use as a tracker.

Dread settled in her stomach. They had to hide, and they had to do it now.

The earth molded under her hooves as they picked up speed, fertile and soft. They nearly galloped full on, only the knowledge that a panicked rush would create noise kept them from indulging in it. The gryphons hadn’t seen them yet, couldn’t have seen them yet, their vision no good in the dark. Dusk had to be right.

“I’m going to find shelter,” Dusk said, spreading his wings. Amber’s stomach clenched. No. He couldn’t fly ahead. The sky was a danger.

The idea came to her like a pegasus’s lightning strike. “Stop!” she hissed. Dusk turned, wings still spread.

The hollowness underhoof. “We have to find a tunnel,” Amber said, mind racing. “Like the mines. They go underground. It will be completely dark, and they won’t be able to fly.” She stomped the earth, the soil still fresh underfoot. “There have to be caves here with underground passages. We have to find them, and you won’t be able to see the entrance from the air.” She didn’t know if that was really true, but it felt right.

“Like the mines?” Green tilted her head, eyes distant. “They do go far, with all sorts of tunnels…and gryphons don’t go deep into the mines. They don’t like being underground.”

“I wouldn’t like being underground either,” Dusk said. “It’s a good idea.” He tapped a hoof on the ground, wings tight and shaking against his back.. “But how do we find a cave that will lead underground?”

“I’ll find one,” Amber said, striking the ground with a hoof. “Just…follow me.”

Dusk glanced at her, but didn’t say anything. Green just nodded.

Amber took a deep breath. They trusted her.

She wouldn’t let them down.

***

The screeching overhead became background noise, common but jolting counterpoints to the whine of crickets and the periodic flutter of a bat overhead. She led Green and Dusk at a silent, slow walk.

Amber kept herself focused on the earth, using her skills as a lowly serf in a wholly new way. The soil was fertile underhoof, a telltale sign of life and the presence of the earth. A tunnel underneath the ground made of rock, with no roots inside of it, would be different. It would be nothingness, hollow, like she felt before. As long as she followed the rock, she knew—she hoped—that they would find an entrance to a cave network. At the very least, they would find a cave in which to hide.

An owl hooted, three short notes. Cold sweat dripped down Amber’s shoulders.

“We’re getting into the open,” Dusk said, snapping Amber back to reality. She pulled her attention from the ground.

He was right. Branches no longer obscured the night sky, the soft mulch underhoof having given way to scrub. The dark form of the mountain was slightly larger in the night sky.

Amber closed her eyes, focusing once more. The fertile ground had lessened, the plants less healthy. This was the right way.

But she still had no idea where an entrance to a cave would be.

“I’ll lead from here,” Dusk said. “I have pretty good night vision.” He flexed his shoulders, and Amber wondered if he wanted to fly. “Let’s—”

A gryphon shriek rent the sky again. Then a swift-moving shape, much larger than the owl, blocked the stars overhead.

They had no cover. Dusk and Amber locked eyes for a moment. Then they began to run.

No. No no no. Amber’s heart pounded in time with the exclamation in her mind. They had come so far. They had to find safety!

If they were caught, it would be her fault. She had kicked the tree, she had led them out of the cover of the forest, paying no attention to her surroundings. Stupid!

“Stop them now!”

Amber’s blood turned to ice, only desperation keeping her muscles from locking and sending her tumbling to the ground. Rikarr.

“Run!” Dusk shouted. “Toward the mountain!”

Amber didn’t need to be told. She dug her hooves into the rocky ground, throwing her body forward with every stride. Green pelted along next to her, Green's hooves beating the ground faster than Amber’s in order to keep up.

A gryphon shrieked overhead, the sound ripping through Amber’s ears. Greens ears swiveled, a panicky dance.

She had to find a cave. A tunnel. Anything, anywhere a gryphon couldn’t chase them. The ground underhoof was rock, no soil or grass left. If there was a cave, it would be nearby.

Amber ran, eyes closed. Then a flash of nothingness underhoof went through her.

“Here!” she called. She reared up, slamming down on the ground with her hooves. It had to be a tunnel entrance. It had to be!

The soil began to crumble underhoof. Green and Dusk raced back, Dusk staring, confused.

“The ground!” Amber yelled, her eyes dry and flanks heaving. “A tunnel!” She slammed the earth again.

A gryphon shrieked. Wind rushed at them.

The ground crumbled, the sense of hollowness giving way to nothing at all, and then Amber began to fall.

Chapter 6

Amber struggled to open her eyes, then blinked hard. She lay in the dark, a blackness so deep it constricted like a shroud over her whole body. She stretched her eyes open wide, skin buzzing with nervousness, but she could see nothing. Her head pounded.

Then something fizzed, a quiet hiss, and sparks fell onto her hoof. Green’s face was illuminated in front of hers for the briefest of moments. Amber leapt to her feet, and the motion caused a renewed burst of pain in her head. She winced, then froze as a harsh voice rang throughout the stone cavern.

“Did you see that light?” Rikarr shouted. “Unicorn magic. They are alive down there!” Amber’s blood ran cold.

Something feathery and soft touched her shoulder—Dusk’s wing. Amber stayed as still as she could, only the slightest of muscle twitches betraying her fear as something huge scratched at the dirt above her head.

“Get them. Dig them out!” Something rasped against the stone, the sound making Amber think of the times she had seen the gryphons eat, their talons scraping against bone.

The wing tapped her left shoulder again. Amber turned, taking careful, silent steps forward. There was no life under her hooves, just stone. She shook her head, trying to clear the confusion from the fall. The pain and the dark were not helping.

Another tap, this time on her forehead. Amber swiveled her head, taking a step forward. A light breeze brushed her mane, and she kept moving, trying to put the scraping noise out of her mind while stepping as lightly as she could. A quiet whisper reached her ears at the same time another feather brushed her mane. “Follow me.”

They did not speak again as they headed down the tunnel, the slight touch of Dusk’s wings guiding Amber on. As they walked, Amber’s senses slowly began to return. She sensed only absence. No soil. No life.

But as they walked into the deep emptiness, the sounds of gryphon’s claws and Rikarr’s angry screeching faded to nothing. For what may have been minutes or eternity, they walked in silent darkness.

“Now, Greenie.” Dusk’s voice anchored Amber. “Try to give us your light.”

The same hissing, sparking sound reached Amber’s ears. Then the tiniest of lights emerged, illuminating Greenie’s scrunched face and squinted eyes.

Unicorn magic. An image popped into Amber’s mind of the entrance to the gryphon mines. Unicorn lights always flanked the mine shaft corridors, steadily glowing orbs of magic that were like tiny glowing suns.

Greenie’s light was small and weak, flickering yellow like a candle flame, but it was still light. They wouldn’t be blind here underground. Amber focused on it for a moment, trying to get her bearings despite the pain in her head. She took a deep breath, Green catching her gaze.

“That’s very good,” Amber said. “You can do it, Greenie.” She wondered how old unicorns really should be to safely use such magic. Amber hoped this wasn’t hurting her.

Greenie nodded, and the light grew brighter as she screwed her eyes completely shut. The radius of light spread to encompass Dusk, and he folded his wings tightly against his back, his guidance no longer needed. His coat looked black in the dim glow.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his eyes meeting hers. “You didn’t respond for a few minutes when we hit the ground.”

Amber nodded, wincing as the motion worsened the throbbing pain. “I’ll be fine. I didn’t…I knew there would be a tunnel, or at least a hole. I didn’t know we would fall so far.”

“Well, it worked. We’re safe, kind of.” He looked up, his dark form steadily glowing bluer as Greenie’s light increased in power. The light bounced off of the walls, revealing the jagged, uncut rock. Dusk shivered. “How far underground do you think we are?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Amber blinked, struggling to remember what had happened during the fall. All she could recall was the sense of nothingness, then falling and sliding. “But deep enough that the gryphons won’t have an easy time at us.” No scraping sound from the gryphon’s talons reached them down here.

“For now, at least.” Dusk sighed. “We have to keep going. Greenie? Can you hold that light?” The filly had relaxed, but the light flickered and danced like a flame, very different from the steady glowing light of a full-grown unicorn. She nodded her head once, the motion sending the light further down the tunnel. Something glittered in the distance.

Dusk trotted over to the glint, tapping it with a hoof. “What is this?”

Amber walked closer, peering down at it. It shone brighter as Greenie’s light flickered, making her head pound. “A gemstone,” she said.

“Gemstones?” Dusk’s eyes widened. “We're not near the mines, are we? Put out the light!” he whirled, his spread wings the last thing Amber saw before they were plunged into darkness once more.

“Calm down!” Amber took one step forward, putting her hoof on top of the gemstone. “The mines are far from here. Gems like these are fairly common underground. If we were anywhere near the gryphon’s mines, we’d see the unicorn’s lights from miles away.” She kicked the stone toward the wall, a sharp clack echoing down the tunnel the only sign that it existed. “There’s no light anywhere but here. What we have to do now is figure out the right direction to go.”

Dusk let out a gusty breath. “We don’t have the star anymore.” Amber imagined his wings and ears drooping.

That wasn’t the worst of it. They could be trapped underground. Amber didn’t want to voice that concern though, not yet. “We were going to go over the mountains, right? We can find an exit. Then we can start again.”

“Right.” Something rustled, probably feathers. “We can’t just give up now.”

“Greenie, can you give us your light again?” Amber said.

Nothing. The soothing darkness remained.

“Greenie?” Dusk called. “Greenie, your light?”

Amber’s stomach twisted. “Green!” her voice echoed and rebounded, and she winced as the pain in her head throbbed with the noise.

Her stomach dropped further when another deep, rasping voice spoke. “Yes, Green pony. Give us your light.”

A dim glow began. The first thing Amber saw as the light rose was a pair of glowing green eyes.

Her first thought was Rikarr, and she almost panicked, every muscle and nerve screaming. But no. This was different.

A gray-furred doglike beast had an oversized paw curled around Greenie’s neck, the filly’s eyes enormous and her legs shaking. Black claws dug into the unicorn’s green fur, and sharp fangs poked from the creature’s lips. Dusk stood beside Amber, wings tight against his back and his ears flat against his head.

“You are ponies, yes?” the creature spoke. Its voice was warped, as though the fangs marred its speech. “The ones that get gems for nasty gryphons.”

Amber and Dusk didn’t speak and the creature narrowed its eyes to slits. “You,” it growled at Dusk. “Ponies have wings?”

They had to do something, say something. It had said “nasty gryphons…”

“Yes,” Dusk said. His voice assuaged some of Amber’s fear. “We are ponies. You are…?”

“I am Stone,” the thing said, and it took Amber a moment to realize it was giving its name. “A diamond dog. You ponies get gems for nasty gryphons?”

Dusk and Amber exchanged glances. “No,” Amber said. “We don’t. We don’t serve any gryphons.”

“But you find gems?” The dog’s voice was eager. “Yes?”

Amber took a quick breath. Was that all it cared about? “Let her go,” she demanded. “She can find gems, not us.” Amber had no idea if that was true. “But not if you hurt her.”

The dog released Green immediately, and the unicorn took a few wobbly steps toward Amber, her light flickering. Amber moved quickly, letting Green lean against her flank. She glared at the dog, who looked back with blank green eyes. They glowed eerily in the light. Stone could probably see her far better than she could see him.

“You want gems, right?” Dusk said, his voice calculating. “Why not go to the gryphon’s mines?”

“Bah!” The dog’s bark made Amber wince. “They were our mines! The nasty gryphons and their ponies took them from us!” Stone slumped. “Now we dogs have few gems, not like before. If we go to the old mines, the gryphons kill us. Eat us.” Green shivered.

Amber had never seen a corpse of one of Stone’s kind, but she believed him anyway.

“You live down here?” Dusk asked. “Underground, in these tunnels?”

“Yes. All of us.”

Dusk’s eyes narrowed. “How many?”

The dog held up one paw and tapped his fingers with the other. “One…two…three…” He paused, staring at his thumb with a furrowed brow and his tongue hanging from his mouth.

Green turned, her wide eyes slowly losing the glazed, blank look of fear. Amber stood up straighter, letting the filly take a few steps forward. This dog may look ferocious, and its fangs and claws spoke of it eating meat, but at least it wasn’t smart. It was no Rikarr.

Dusk smiled. “So, Stone. We ponies are trying to get under the mountain. Away from the nasty gryphons. We want to get to the other side.”

“To barren plains?” The dog’s ears perked. “There are no gems there!”

“Right. But we’ll find gems for you, if you take us there,” Dusk wheedled. “All the gems you want. Just lead us to the other side of the mountain, underground, far away from the nasty gryphons. You’ll be the richest, uh, diamond dog in the world.”

Stone’s eyes narrowed, and Amber tensed for a moment. But then he broke into a fanged grin.

“Winged pony has a deal!”

***

“Walk fast, ponies!” Stone called. Green’s bubble of light encompassed them, the tiny flame on the end of her horn still flickering like a candle. Stone foraged farther ahead. His soft paws made no sound on the stone, and Amber had to squint to keep him in sight. The air had grown colder and more stale, and she was fairly certain they were headed deeper underground.

“How are we supposed to find gems?” Green whispered. “I don’t know that spell.”

“Fake it,” Dusk whispered back. “Or maybe their glint will catch your light. We have to go through here, and fooling them is the best way.” Green frowned. “Trust me,” Dusk added. “It’s this or be constantly hiding from Rikarr aboveground again.”

Amber looked back over her shoulder. For all they knew, Rikarr could have dug through the tunnel and be hunting them even here.

“Through here, ponies!” Stone’s voice warped strangely as he squeezed through a small passage. Amber had to breathe out fully to squeeze through, and Dusk sighed in annoyance, his wing feathers scraping against the rock. Green, at least, had no trouble.

Amber froze on the other side, staring.

“This is Dog’s Home,” Stone announced. “See?”

They had emerged into an enormous cavern, the pressing weight of the tunnels gone. This was larger than any tunnel she had ever seen, more of a work center than a mine. Lichen clung to the walls, giving off a steady green glow. Dark, clawed shapes pushed crudely hewn wagons on stone wheels. Black holes in the wall marked entrances to other tunnels.

“It’s like the mine, but…different,” Green said.

“Primitive,” Amber elaborated. “And not really a mine.”

“There are more dogs than I expected,” Dusk said, some of his confidence gone.

“This is Dog’s Home,” Stone repeated. “Ponies will meet other dogs. Then we lead to other side of mountain. Ponies find gems, like they find for nasty gryphons.” Stone hurried forward without another word.

“Be careful,” Dusk whispered. “I don’t know if the other diamond dogs will be as thick as our friend here.”

They had left the gryphons, but Amber did not feel safe underground with these diamond dogs either. Larger dogs waddled by, looking like boulders with huge arms, spiked tails and jutting teeth. Some of them were hooked to harnesses and pulled nearly empty wagons, just like the earth ponies back in Eaglesburg. Amber swallowed hard.

Green stared around the cavern as they walked, eyes wide but gaze focused. She didn’t seem as frightened as before, though her tail twitched whenever one of the dogs looked at her. Dusk kept his head high and his wings loose. He, at least, could fly if he had to.

Some of the dogs sniffed the air as they passed. Catching their scent, Amber realized. If something went wrong, they would be hard pressed to escape.

“Here, ponies!” Stone stopped outside a dark tunnel, a smile on his face. “Meet with Chert, our leader!” Instead of leading them inside, he bellowed, “Chert! It is Stone! Back from outer tunnels!”

Dusk took a deep breath next to her. Green’s light flared brighter, and the leader of the diamond dogs emerged.

He was a ruddy brown color where Stone was grey, but unimpressive compared to the burly dogs Amber had seen save for the emerald that hung around his neck. He was flanked by two large grey dogs who looked similar to the ones pulling wagons in the cavern. These dogs wore stone helmets and carried stone spears. Amber’s stomach sank.

“Ponies,” Chert growled, breaking into a wide grin. One of his fangs was missing. “You will find gems for us.”

“Yes,” Dusk said. The dogs with spears were pointing them at him. “We will gladly find gems for you, if you lead us to the other side of the mountain.” Another dog came up behind Amber. It carried a yoke carved out of stone.

“No deal,” Chert said. “You are ponies, slaves for nasty gryphons. Now you mine for dogs.”

“That’s not what Stone said!” Dusk shouted. A dog placed a yoke on his neck. Stone stood to the side, silent. His glittering green eyes narrowed as his gaze slid from Amber’s.

For a moment, Amber despaired. All this way, all that fear and desperation, to be stuck underground doing the same work she would have been doing for the gryphons. They would never find the land of Equestria. They would never even see the sun again.

The yoke settled onto her shoulders. One dog tossed a rope around Green’s flank, and another began to bind Dusk’s wings. His eyes were blank, in shock.

These dogs would work them to death, just like the gryphons had her parents.

“Good pony,” the dog behind her laughed. It was another gray-furred one, smaller like Stone.

No. Her blood boiled, muscles tensing with anger, not fear.

She wouldn’t work for them. Not for dogs, not for gryphons. Never again.

She reared, arching her back, and lashed out with both hooves. A sharp crack was the only sign she had connected, her strong hind legs encountering almost no resistance. The yoke fell to the ground beside her and snapped in half.

She turned, ears flat and teeth bared. The dog who had tried to yoke her was on the ground, squealing from a jaw that was wrenched sideways. It’s tongue lolled out of its mouth and blood dribbled from between broken teeth.

Green’s eyes were wide, and even Dusk stared, silent.

“We are not your slaves!” Amber yelled. The dogs winced at the volume of her voice, and Amber rounded on Chert. “Let them go!”

Chert stared at her, his eyes glowing in Green’s fiery light. His gaze slid to the dog on his right.

Amber reared, the burly gray dog moving out of the way of her lashing hooves. She landed, then spun and kicked hard at the one on Chert’s left, her hoof catching the dog’s paw on his spear as he held it up to block. A yelp echoed in the cavern, mingling with the crack of the brittle stone spear breaking.

Another dog yelped, and Amber turned to see Dusk bucking, and his straining wings snapped the incomplete knot. He leaped into the air, his wings beating frantically as he gained altitude.

The light grew brighter, Green’s eyes squinted shut. The light on her horn was a torch now, and the dogs near her had backed away, mouths open in fear.

Amber turned her gaze back to Chert, and took a step forward, slamming her hoof on the stone. “Take us to the other side of the mountain, and we’ll find you gems. As equals!”

“Deal!” Chert whimpered, cowering. “We make deal with ponies! Not slaves, promise!”

Green’s light faded, and Dusk landed heavily. Amber let out a breath, the anger quickly replaced with satisfaction and no small amount of exhaustion. They would stay free, no matter what, as long as she breathed.

“Amber, your side,” Dusk said.

She turned, heart pounding. On her hip, a small picture had appeared. It looked like a hoof, but tougher, stronger. A steel hoof. Beneath it was a broken yoke.

She smiled, forgetting for a moment about the exhaustion of having come so far and nearly being enslaved once again. The dogs stared at her, newfound fear and respect shining in their eyes. Greenie and Dusk stared too, their gazes full of hope.

When you wanted freedom, running wasn’t the only answer.

Chapter 7

Without the light of day, Green could not tell how many days they had been down here. They slept and they walked, with Stone and two dogs who did his bidding and never spoke.

No talon marks scored the walls of the tunnels she walked down, and every so often the glint of a gem would catch her eye and send two burly snarling guard dogs digging at the ground. The rock wasn’t smooth, cracks and pits making her stumble and knick her hooves. No breeze blew from the entrances, where gryphons would land with a rush of chill air that had made her bones shake in winter. The stone was gray in the light of her horn, not reddish pale limestone.

But the tunnels reminded Green of the aeries anyway.

“Keep quiet, Green.” Her mother’s voice wound through her memories, as it usually did. “Never look a carnivore in the eye. Simply obey. It is for the best.”

The gryphon her mother had served had been named Talisk. He had been like Stone, more stupid than cruel, with talons too long for his body and a beak wrenched crooked. He would squawk at her whenever she looked at it, so she hadn’t, obeying her mother’s advice. She remembered the floors and walls of the stone aeries better than most.

Only at night, when Talisk was asleep and her father was home from the mines smelling of rock dust and sweat, would her mother speak of other things.

“Ponies have a long history, Green, and we unicorns are a part of it. Magic can be used for many things, not just finding gems and lifting objects. We could do anything, once. Even raise the sun and moon. Ancient unicorns had that power.”

Green had just listened, eyes big and heart pounding. She had never known if any of it was true, and she knew she never would. But she rehearsed her mother’s stories in her mind, every night.

It was all she had left.

“Keep going, Greenie.” Amber’s voice cut through her memories, the brown earth pony nodding down at her. Her new symbol, the cutie mark, seemed to glow in Green’s dim light. Amber had walked differently in the time since it had appeared, her strides longer and her head held high. Despite being hitched to the cart that Stone was steadily filling with the gems his guards dug up, she would stare down any dog who looked at her for too long, and it made Green’s insides twist.

She had never seen a pony do that. Not even the Red who had gotten his raindrop cutie mark had walked like that, and it hadn’t been long before they had taken him away. He hadn’t fought, just put his head down like the rest of them.

Green didn’t want to remember that. But she did want to remember her parents. Her mother’s soft voice at night, her father’s quiet strength…to remember them, she had to remember the gryphons.

And she had to remember Rikarr. The last day flashed through her mind again, her stomach and chest going hollow as the scene replayed. Flashing talons, her mother’s power…Why hadn’t her father just done his job? Why had her mother fought? None of it made sense.

Her mother always told her to be careful, and then she was gone, just like that. Why hadn’t she listened?!

Green wrenched her mind away from those memories. They didn’t matter, shouldn’t matter. This was her life now. Walking through tunnels, slowly heading uphill, heading toward a place called Equestria.

***

“See!” The dog pointed with an outstretched paw. “We make it!”

Green let her light die, peering ahead. Natural light illuminated the hewn rock of the cavern. Water dripped from a stalactite, sending iridescent colors down the tunnel and making the gems sparkle.

“That’s it,” Amber said, shrugging her shoulders and letting the makeshift yoke fall to the ground. She stepped away from the cart, giving it a strong kick that sent it jolting back. “You kept your deal. Here’s your gems.”

“Wait,” Dusk said as Stone leapt for the cart, his claws grasped around the largest gem. The two dogs with him began hooking themselves to the traces. Stone looked over his shoulder, ears back. “Tell us exactly where we are,” Dusk said. “What can we expect on the other side?”

“On other side of mountain.” Stone narrowed his eyes, his black nose twitching. “Thunderhooves live here. Then forest.”

Green’s heart jolted. “Thunderhooves?” Dusk pressed. “What are Thunderhooves?”

The dog drew his ears back further, and Green took a step toward Amber. “Nasty things. Crush dogs. Feed gems to dragons!” He ended the phrase with a snarl. “I no come!”

Dusk and Amber exchanged glances. “Fine,” Amber said. Before she could say any more, Stone barked a command, and the two burly dogs with him began heading down the tunnel at fast clip, the sound of the wheels fading into a dull echoing roar.

“We should have questioned him more,” Dusk said. “I don’t like the sound of these ‘Thunderhooves.’”

“They can’t be worse than the gryphons,” Amber said. “And I, for one, relish the idea of getting out of these caves and onto some proper soil.”

“We have to be careful,” Dusk said, but Amber had already begun trotting ahead, her hooves loud against the stone. Green followed, staying close to Dusk, who walked with quiet steps and his wings folded tightly against his back.

The light grew from a colorless glow to a warm yellow shine, and Amber’s hooves scuffed more quietly against stone that steadily turned into dirt, and finally grass. They emerged into a sunny day, the sky a sapphire blue with no cloud to be seen.

“Wow,” Amber said, a breeze catching her voice.

Green blinked in the bright light. Gold-green grass rolled ahead of them in undulating waves into the horizon. It was dizzying to look upon.

Amber reared, her mane blowing back. “Now this looks wonderful! Room to run and all the food you can eat!” Green felt her body tense in preparation to run, and some innate part of her longed to feel the wind in her mane and the ground underhoof.

“Hold on!” Dusk shouted from the cave entrance, and Amber landed, her front hooves raising puffs of dust. “It’s also wide open. If Rikarr is still hunting us, or if those thunderhooves decide to hunt us, we’re dead if we’re exposed out there.”

Amber’s ears fell, and the longing inside Green vanished. He was right.

“What would you have us do? There’s nowhere else to go,” Amber said.

“We travel at night. We have to find the star anyway, to follow it, and at night predators will have trouble seeing us.”

“If he’s even still hunting us,” Amber said with a snort, but there was no fire in her words. She trotted back toward the cave mouth, head hung low. Green followed, watching the clear blue sky.

They were free, but she still didn’t feel safe. At least at home, she had known how to avoid danger.

“Try to sleep, Green,” Dusk said, nudging her further into the darkness of the caverns. “We’re still safe here in the caves. Get rest while you can.”

“Come nightfall, Green,” Amber said. “Then we can really run.”

Green curled up between two stone pillars, closing her eyes. In her mind, as she did every night, she remembered her mother’s stories, and her mother’s voice.

***

Sleep didn’t come before the sky dimmed to purple and then to black. She was aware when Dusk headed to the mouth of the cave, staring at the sky. She got up too, looking to the sky, but she couldn’t find the star they were following.

“Ready, Green?” Dusk asked. She nodded. “No light, okay? I wish the moon were less full, but it can’t be helped.”

“We go as far and as fast we can, I take it?” Amber said, tossing her head and stretching her legs.

“Yes.”

“You going to fly?” Amber nudged him. “It’s been awhile since you stretched those wings.”

Dusk unfurled his wings, then folded them once more and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”

“Suit yourself.” Amber tensed her shoulders. “Let’s go!”

She charged ahead. Dusk nudged Green. “Go. I’ll keep the rear.”

Green took a quick jolting breath, and headed out after Amber.

The night air filled her with energy like a jolt, and that coupled with anxiety sped her to run faster than she ever had before. The grass beneath her hooves was springy and soft, propelling each step, and she ducked her head low and dug her hooves into the earth. Her mane and tail streamed, long grasses whipping her snout. Amber’s hoof falls echoed in her ears, and her heart beat double in her head.

No screeching filled the air. There was no sound at all save for the rustle of grass they passed and the pounding of their hooves.

“Look up, Green!” Amber called.

The sky overhead was filled with stars, sometimes so many clustered together that they made parts of the sky glow brighter. A path of them arced across her vision, and above it all the moon shone. No matter how fast they ran, the stars stayed the same.

Some of her fear began to ebb.

“Look ahead, Green, see?” Dusk had caught up to her, his dark form matching her speed. “That’s the star. The one straight ahead. It’s brighter than the others.”

It was off the glowing path, and Green pointed her snout at it. For a moment, in her mind, she ran across a river of stars.

“There were ponies once, unicorns like me and you, who raised stars. They played with stars like toys, and made them sparkle and shine.”

As Green ran, and watched the stars ahead of her while her mother's voice echoed, the fear vanished for a short time.

***

They took shelter in a plume of tall grasses when the sky began to lighten, the long stalks hiding them only when they crouched down. Green collapsed into a small ball, and even Amber puffed. Dusk stretched out his legs.

“More of the same tomorrow night," he said. The sea of grass still stretched ahead of them, unchanged. “I’ll keep watch first.”

Green nodded, letting her head drop. She was too tired to even remember a story.

***

“Hey.”

Green’s eyes flew open. She had fallen asleep at the pink of dawn, and now the sun soared overhead. Her heart raced like it had last night, and she lifted her head. Dusk snored across from her, and Amber was nowhere to be seen.

“Over here!” Green leaped to her feet. “Ssh!” Someone giggled.

“Hi!” Green leaped backward when another creature jumped out of the patch of grass she had been laying next to. It was taller than her, with a slight hump in its back and long legs that ended with hooves that were cloven in two. Its fur was brown and curly, and it flopped its ears as it tilted its head. “I’m Dusthoof. What’s your name? I’ve never seen something like you before.”

Green stared, her flanks heaving with her quick breaths. Her gaze flicked from the strange Dusthoof to the sleeping form of Dusk and back.

“C’mon, your dad’s asleep and your mom’s not looking.” Dusthoof reared up and then did a strange sort of jig around Green, then ended it with a flip and a kick of her hooves. “Let’s play!”

She could yell, and Dusk would wake up. Nothing in her mother’s stories, or what she had seen on her travels, explained this.

But it didn’t feel dangerous.

“What are you?” Green finally asked.

Dusthoof snorted a laugh. “That’s what I said!” She puffed out her chest. “I’m a buffalo, of the Grass Song tribe!”

“I’m…a pony. Of…nowhere.” Eaglesburg had never been her home. “My name is Green.”

“That’s a weird name.”

Green didn’t know what to say to that. “You can call me Greenie?”

Dusthoof tilted her head. “That’s still kinda weird.” When Green didn’t respond, she reared up again. “But that’s okay! C’mon, let’s play!”

I—”

“Dusthoof!” a voice bellowed, so loud that Green’s ears rattled. Dusk was on his feet in a second. “Where are you?!”

Dusk looked over to Green, and his eyes went wide at the sight of the buffalo. He flared his wings, tensing his shoulders and narrowing his eyes, and for a moment Green thought he might attack.

“Dusk!” Amber called, her hooves pummeling the ground as she ran into their small nesting spot. She broke into a smile when she saw Dusthoof. “And you must be Dusthoof. Your father is looking for you.”

Dusthoof wilted. “Sorry, Greenie,” she said, and bounded away over the grass.

“Amber, what—”

“It’s okay!” Amber grinned, and Dusk went silent. “I have something to show you!”

Dusk relaxed, though his wings were still spread and he looked ready to take flight at any moment. He and Green followed Amber out of the tall, swaying grass.

Green’s eyes went wide. The empty field was now filled with furry brown shapes, each one several times bigger than Amber. One swiveled its head to look at her, then went back to munching the long grass.

“This is the Grass Song tribe,” Amber said. “And they’re friendly.” She laughed. “I think we’ve found the Thunderhooves.”

Chapter 9

The stories of the buffalo swirled in Green’s head as she ran with the herd. Dusthoof ran ahead of her, darting to the left and right and sometimes running in a circle around Green, urging her on. Green did her best to keep up.

In the days since that first night, the stories had been different. Instead of tales of ponies, there were tales of brave buffalo warriors, or wise buffalo sages who led the tribe in times of crisis. The night before the elder had even spoken of a time before the buffalo came to this land, when the entire plain had been filled with water. Fish and all sorts of strange creatures used to swim here.

Green didn’t know if it was true, but it had been a nice story. She imagined what the plain would look like filled with water, where the tall grasses that waved in the breezes would instead be waving fronds. The high noon sun would scatter when viewed from underwater.

Then the shriek of an eagle tore through her fantasies. Her legs locked in fear, and she tumbled head over hooves, sliding and falling into the long grass.

“Greenie!” Dusthoof wheeled around, urging her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

Clouds scudded overhead, a tapestry of white over a background of blue. She couldn’t see the gryphons, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. She got to her feet, her gaze swiveling from Dusthoof to the larger buffalo as they raced by. One slowed. “Stay with the herd!” he called. “You small ones especially.”

His words sent anxiety spiking through Green like lightning. “Why would he say that?” she asked Dusthoof.

“Eagles,” Dusthoof said with a snort. “They can’t get me, though. I’m not that small!”

Eagles. Just eagles. “What about gryphons?” Green asked.

“Gryphons?” Dusthoof looked at the sky. “You mean the eagles with lion’s tails?” Green’s heart squeezed. “They don’t eat us. I guess they could, since they’re huge, but I’ve never even seen them land. Are they smart? Maybe we can ask the Elder about gryphons, and get a story.”

Green’s hind legs trembled. “No,” she said. “I don’t want to.”

“You scared of gryphons?” Dusthoof said, her ears flicking back and forth. “Why? You can just burn ‘em up with your fire, like you light every night. No gryphon could ever get you!” She jumped up and pranced in a circle. “Don’t be afraid! Now c’mon! We’re falling behind!”

She darted ahead, and Green stayed still, staring after her.

“Green!” Dusk caught up, startling her out of her stupor. “Stay with the herd! You heard it too, right?”

“Was it…was it a gryphon?” Green asked, forcing herself into a trot and matching Dusk’s speed. Even after all the days of traveling, he wasn’t very fast.

“Yeah, it was a gryphon.” Dusk craned his neck to look up, his wings shivering against his back. “Be careful. I think…I think I recognized him.”

Green almost fell again, and she relaxed her muscles with effort. “Aren’t we safe?”

“With the buffalo, we should be, but only if you stay close.”

Green opened her mouth to ask if he would fly to see if the gryphons were hiding above the clouds, then shut it again. If he flew, and the gryphons were there…could they snatch him out of the air? Probably.

Anger kindled in her chest, along with anxiety. Of course Dusk couldn’t fly. They’d never be free, not if the gryphons had chased them this far.

Another eagle shriek split the sky, and Dusk’s eyes narrowed. “Go on, Green, keep running.”

Green nodded. With a deep breath, she darted ahead, trying to run as fast as Dusthoof while staying within a hairsbreadth of the thundering hooves of the buffalo. Dusk darted into the thick of the herd behind her, and ahead through gaps in the running shapes she saw flashes of Amber’s light brown coat as she galloped toward the front of the herd.

Green ran faster, wincing and laying her ears flat at another screech. Where was Dusthoof?

A feathery form arced overhead, and Green squealed, dashing directly underneath the belly of a larger buffalo. The buffalo reared, tossing its horned head toward the diving gryphon, and the gryphon pulled up with a squawk.

“Be careful, little one!” he said, lowering his shaggy head to face Green.

Her flanks heaved. “They’ll kill us!”

He narrowed his eyes, then lifted his head and gave a bleating bellow. “Predators! Bunch up!”

The call was repeated, the run slowing as buffalo began to gather together. Soon the racing tribe had formed into a slow moving, almost continuous mass, with only the largest buffalo at the edges. There was still no sign of Dusthoof through the thick of bodies.

Then a wrenching squeal tore through her ears. She looked up to see Dusthoof hanging limp in Rikarr’s talons. Green’s heart leapt, churning icewater through her veins. Two more gryphons hovered next to him.

“Stop!” Chief Grass Song bellowed. The rumbling of dozens of cloven hooves ceased at once, buffalo all around her gasping in fear or bellowing in anger, as the enormous gryphon held Dusthoof between his talons.

Rikarr’s lionlike tail waved in midair, a cruel dance. “I apologize,” he called out. “This child,” he said as he hefted Dustoof’s limp form in one talon, “was not my target.”

“Let her go immediately!” Chief Grass Song shouted, stomping the ground. Dirt churned underneath the cloven hoof.

“Certainly, that can be arranged.” Rikarr flew higher, Dusthoof still in his talons. The small buffalo was still, her eyes closed, and her head lolled. Green stifled a whine of fear, and she stumbled forward, legs shaking. Part of her wanted to hide underneath the largest buffalo she could find. Another wanted to scream to Rikarr to let Dusthoof go.

And a third part of her despaired. This was it. If they didn’t die, Dusthoof would. There was nothing she could do.

“Green!” Dusk hissed, appearing at her side. Grass scattered as he darted into the thick of the herd, toward the Chief. Green forced herself to follow.

“Come now. Let us talk about this.” Rikarr pointed to Dusthoof with an outstretched talon, the sun glinting off the metal tips. “Your young calf will not be harmed. The last thing we want to do is harm any of you.”

“Then let her go!” Amber shouted. Green’s heart flipped. The earth pony stood next to the Chief, snout thrust high. “That little one has nothing to do with this!”

“You’re right.” Rikarr’s wings flapped slowly, his tail twitching. “She does not.” His gaze roved the herd, and Green almost fell when it settled on her. “Chief of the Buffalo, I deeply regret that this calf was caught in the middle of this. If your tribe were not huddled so tightly around those ponies, she would not have been in the way of my strike. How fortunate for all of us that she was not hurt. I ask only that you turn those three ponies among you over to us. Then we will gladly return your calf to you.”

The enormous Chief buffalo kept staring at the sky, where Rikarr hovered with lazy flaps of his enormous wings. Amber was whispering something, hissed words of be careful and don’t listen to him.

“He’ll kill her and us if you do what he says,” Dusk shouted, and the Chief swiveled his head. Green quailed under his gaze. The buffalo’s eyes were narrowed, the whites tinged red.

“Tell me who this creature is, and why he is chasing you,” he growled. “Why is one of our young ones in danger?”

“They’re—”

“Those ponies down there are fugitives,” Rikarr called. “I am a gryphon of my word. Turn them over to us, and your calf will be returned unharmed.”

“We aren’t fugitives!” Amber shouted up to the gryphon. Green’s stomach twisted, and she almost expected one of the three to dive down and strike her immediately. “We won’t be slaves again! We’ll die first! Kill us if you have to, but let her go!”

“So you agree then,” Rikarr said. “Excellent. Step right out here and we will return her.”

“Amber, don’t!” Dusk hissed.

Green’s breathing was loud in her ears, and her vision fuzzed yellow, white spots dancing in flecks in front of her eyes. There was nothing they could do. Dusthoof…

Dusthoof hadn’t been scared of the gryphons. Amber was brave. But they were powerless. They all were. Just like her mother and father. They would die.

Rikarr hovered, tilting his head. Then he barked a command to one of the other two gryphons with him, a gryphon with a chipped beak who took Dusthoof from Rikarr as though she were a sack of gems that the earth ponies dragged from the mines. The chipped beak reminded her of Talisk, but this gryphon was much bigger.

“No one is being killed!” Chief Grass Song bellowed. “Return her immediately!”

A large shape appeared behind Green. “Are you afraid of them, little one?”

Green turned. The gray furred elder nodded at the sky. “Why not light the fire, like you do every night?”

Green blinked, the words not settling. Light the fire. It wouldn’t work. Her parents had failed, and now they were dead.

“I had hoped it would not come to this, but I will use any means necessary to take those ponies.” Rikarr flew in a slow circle, his shadow flitting over the herd. Larger buffalo shifted, groups here and there tightening around smaller forms and moving away from Green.

“Be calm, little one,” the elder whispered. “Your magic is there. Just use it.”

“If you do not give them to us, we will assume you are protecting these criminals,” Rikarr announced, resuming his hover between the other two gryphons. “We will then be forced to toss this one aside and resume our hunt.” he gestured to Dusthoof, who was still gripped in the scarred gryphon’s talons. “And though I hope I’m wrong, given your tendency to get in the way, she probably won’t be the last.”

His voice was like claws tightening around Green’s neck, and it didn’t let up. “Your herd has…” His sharp yellow gaze roved the ground. “Ah. Seven young calves, one less than a month old. Would you really put them at risk to protect these three ponies, who aren’t even of your herd?”

“You won’t get them!” The Chief snorted. “We’ve been protecting our youth from eagles like you for generations!”

“All evidence is to the contrary,” Rikarr said, pointing to the gryphon who held Dusthoof. “Now. I will give you until she wakes to decide.”

The Chief stamped his hooves, turning to the rest of the herd. Growls and rumbles resonated in Green’s body, and despair tightened her throat. Dusk met her eyes, his gaze lost.

There was nothing they could do. The Chief knew it.

“What will you do to them, if we give them to you?” the Chief called. Dusk hissed in a breath.

“Dusthoof is brave,” the elder whispered. “You can be too. Stories of unicorns say they can bring down lightning, and play with the stars.” The elder’s voice gained the singsong cadence of a story. “Why should you listen to these gryphons?”

Green took a breath. Dusthoof had mentioned stories of gryphons. Her parent’s stories played in her mind.

Dusthoof had also said to burn them up.

She would probably fail, just like her mother had. But she had to try. For Dusthoof.

“Come now. I truly don’t want to hurt any young buffalo. All I ask is that you not interfere with my work,” Rikarr called.

“Light the fire, little one,” the elder whispered.

Green closed her eyes, picturing Rikarr in her mind. The slow beating wings, the long lion’s tail that ended in a small curl, and the cruel yellow eyes and sharp beak. The one who had killed her mother, and maimed her father.

Light the fire. Just like lighting the fire.

But this wasn’t lighting a fire. Not at all.

Magic gathered in her horn, a pressure behind her head like a hammer striking stone. Power doubled, then doubled again, a steady thrum of strength that heated her forehead and brought blinding pain.

She opened her eyes through a haze of red. Rikarr hovered in midair, his gaze focused elsewhere. His beak moved, but she couldn’t hear the words.

Dusthoof’s voice echoed in her mind. Burn em up.

Burn them. Burn Rikarr.

She wondered if that was what her mother had thought.

Then spiraling flame leapt from her horn, a rush of energy and anger. Through red and yellow and the sound of crackling, she saw Rikarr’s eyes widen and heard his wings flap as he climbed.

Too late. An inferno of spiraling flame engulfed the group of gryphons, at the same moment a furry form dropped from the sky. The Chief and Amber lunged forward, the earth pony staggering under the weight of the falling calf as she caught Dusthoof across her back.

Another form fell moments later, a flaming mass of feathers. Its talons were not covered in metal, and its beak was scarred. Smoke and heat exploded outward as the firestorm died, and two winged forms arced away.

Green staggered, energy leaving her all at once. Then the elder was there, a soft mass of fur that gave her support.

Dusk jumped up, spreading his wings. “You were right, Rikarr!” he shouted at the retreating gryphons. “She is dangerous!”

Green pushed herself back up on shaky legs. At the same moment light flashed on Green’s flank.

A small picture of a burst of flame had appeared over the green fur. Green smiled.

“See, little one?” the elder said. “You have nothing to fear.” Ahead of them, Amber nudged Dusthoof to her feet. The little buffalo met Green’s eyes from across the field. She was safe.

She had done it. She hadn’t killed Rikarr. But Dusthoof was safe. For now…they were safe.

Dusk turned to her, eyes bright. “Green, with you, with your power, we’ll make it! We’ll make it to Equestria!”

Chapter 10

The grass of the plains crunched underhoof. The forest stretched ahead of Dusk, a dark copse of green against the purple evening sky. He reviewed the elder’s story from the night before in his mind, which he knew had been told for their benefit.

The forest is a place of confusion. Trees grow with abandon, and creatures of all kinds roam. But these are not creatures like you or I, who can speak, nor are they peaceful like birds and squirrels. There are beasts made of wood, or lions with the tails of scorpions. It is even said that there are dragons, but dragons will not bother you if you leave them be or offer them gems.

Dusk had never seen a dragon, but the thought of meeting one made him wish he had kept some of the gems from their time with the dogs.

“So, this is it?” Chief Grass Song asked. “You’re going in there?”

Dusk nodded. “We’re following the star. That’s where it leads.” Their guide shone above them, the first star of evening. It had led them here for weeks as they traveled with the buffalo and walked through the waving grass in endless miles.

He hadn’t heard the screeches of gryphons since their last encounter, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there, hiding above the clouds. He hadn’t flown once since coming onto the plains.

“Hmm,” the Chief rumbled. “You can always return if you don’t find what you’re looking for. The journey together was brief, but we learned much from you.” Dusk couldn’t imagine what the buffalo could have learned from three fleeing ponies, but he nodded anyway.

“And we you.” That much, at least, was true.

“The ponies from the elder’s story…they came from there, right?” Greenie trotted closer to the long evening shadows of the trees, Dusthoof next to her. “Maybe we’re close.”

“Maybe.” Amber tossed her mane. “But I doubt any ponies live in there. It doesn’t feel like a place a pony could grow anything, even from here.”

Dusk sighed. He wished he knew more. The further they got from the gryphon’s compound, the less he was sure of, and he didn’t like it. “Do you know how far the forest extends?” he asked.

Chief Grass Song shook his head. “We’ve never entered.”

“Can I go too?” Dusthoof burst out, and Green’s eyes widened. “It’ll be an adventure!”

“No,” Dusk and Grass Song said at the same time. They exchanged glances. “It’s dangerous,” Dusk added.

“But Green is going,” Dusthoof said with an energetic bound. Dusk fell silent. She had a point. It would be just as dangerous for Green as for Dusthoof, fire magic or not.

“That’s because we’re trying to find our way to Equestria,” Amber said with a knowing nod. “You have a home here.” Her voice was gentle. “But us? We have to find our home.”

Green stepped forward, away from Dusthoof. The small buffalo’s eyes were sad despite the way she romped in circles, and she stopped, bowing her head. “I’m sorry, Dusthoof,” the unicorn said. “I’ll visit you again. After we find Equestria.”

Dusk appreciated the small unicorn's quiet maturity. Since traveling with the buffalo, she had come a long way from the silent, shaking filly that had fled with them into the mountains.

“We all will,” Amber added.

“But what if you don’t find it?” Dusthoof said quietly.

A shiver went down Dusk’s spine. “We will,” he said, his voice full of strength he didn’t feel in the face of the dark forest. “We will find it. We’ve come this far. It can’t be much further.”

He only hoped that was true.

***

At least they had cover from the sky again, Dusk thought as the trees closed in shadows over their heads

“Alright,” he said. “We have to be careful again. Travelling by night, resting during the day. With luck, it will be just like the forest behind the mountains.”

Amber shook her mane, stepping more lightly than usual. “The ground here feels…wrong, Dusk,” she said.

Anxiety buzzed down to his hooves. “Wrong how?”

“It’s grass and mulch and life…but I couldn’t grow here. It’s beyond my control. It’s…strange.”

Light bloomed in the evening dimness, a small wisp of fire floating to the front of their group. Dusk frowned. “Put that out, Green. At night, it will be a dead giveaway.”

“Oh.” The light winked out, plunging them into darkness. Dusk waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light of the quickly rising moon.

He hated to not use Green’s talent. The small unicorn had grown more and more skilled with it, able to light the buffalo’s fires with ease and send wreathes of flame dancing in the night sky, which had delighted Dusthoof. But here, in an unfamiliar forest where the gryphons might still be tracking them, it was just too much of a risk.

“Alright,” he said when the faint shapes of the trees and vines around them began to coalesce. “Let’s go. Amber, take the lead. Green, go ahead of me.”

“I miss the buffalo,” Green said. Dusk just nodded.

Traveling with the herd had been wonderful. It had been safe. Now, the familiar weight of fear and survival was back on his shoulders.

They began to trot, easing back into the mile-eating gait that had gotten them through the plains. The moon traveled overhead as they journeyed, peaking in the center of the sky.

“Stop!” Amber hissed, her hoof slamming the ground. Dusk froze.

“We…we have to go another way.” Frustration edged her voice. “There’s something really wrong here.”

“What is it?”

“Look.”

Dusk and Green trotted beside the earth pony, and Dusk’s heart began to pound.

An enormous footprint that Chief Grass Song could have curled up and gone to sleep in depressed the mulch and loam. Sharp puncture wounds in the earth told Dusk whatever had made this had long, sharp claws. Dried wood lay scattered around the edges and in the center.

“Dusk, maybe we should go back,” Green said. “We could…we could go around the forest.”

“I think I’d rather fight gryphons than whatever made that,” Amber said.

Dusk peered at the sky. Through a gap in the trees, the star twinkled almost directly above their heads. It looked brighter now, somehow. They must be close.

“We keep going,” Dusk said. “The wood around that footprint looks old and brittle. Whatever made this is probably long gone.”

Amber trotted closer and stepped on one of the twigs. It snapped in two. “If you’re sure,” she said.

“Do you think we’re close, Dusk?” Green said.

“I hope so.” Dusk pushed his fears out of his mind, looking to the sky again. Flying would an easy way to tell how far the forest extended. Between the ever-shrinking risk of gryphons and the very real risk of an unfamiliar forest, he no longer felt the need to stay grounded.

He spread his wings. “I’m going to see how close we are.”

“Be careful!” Amber said. Dusk nodded, leaping from the ground and flapping hard.

Muscles weak from disuse protested immediately, and he winced as he strained to gain height among the trees. In moments Green and Amber shrank beneath him, and Dusk squinted to see through the dark forest. Maybe he could even find a clear path before breaching the tree line.

Something glowed green in the distance. Two somethings, that began to move like a connected pair of Green’s will o’ wisps.

“Dusk!” Amber shouted. “Get down now!”

Dusk folded his wings into a V and plummeted while he calculated the trajectory in his head. He didn’t know what that thing was, but it had been moving fast.

“Run!” he shouted when he landed. “This way!”

“No—”

A rumbling growl, like rolling of the diamond dog’s carts, drowned out the rest of whatever Amber said. A trio of somethings that walked on four legs, with fangs and claws, crept near them, blocking the path through which Dusk had wanted to escape. The dim light outlined their slender forms, and a foul stench hit Dusk’s nose when they opened their jaws, revealing a silhouette of jagged teeth. Wood creaked as they stalked nearer.

Dusk’s heart leapt, and he spread his wings wide. If he grabbed Green and put everything he had into it, he might be able to get over their heads and away.

But he couldn’t take Amber. And no matter her strength, she couldn’t fight these things. Each one was twice as big as she was.

The earth pony stomped the ground. “Get back!” she shouted.

“Green!” Dusk shouted. “Use your fire!”

Green screwed her eyes shut. Then heat exploded in a burst among the creatures, singing Dusk’s fur and making his eyes water, as Green’s horn glowed white hot.

Red embers scorched the grass, burning in patches. One of the creatures, its body in pieces, scrabbled at the ground, chips and twigs falling from its shattered form as it struggled in vain to rise. Its jaws snapped at the air.

“They’re made of wood!” Amber said, shock in her voice.

Just like the elder’s story. Fear knifed through Dusk’s chest. “Alright Green,” Dusk said. “Give us all the fire you can.” Something huge rustled the trees behind them. “Then we run!”

Even as he said it, another creature burst from the trees. No, Dusk thought as he launched himself into a gallop.

It was the trees.

Twigs and branches and brush flowed into the thing’s body, even the smashed and burning remains of the other creatures. A sickening stench flowed from the thing’s jaws, and its eyes glowed a pale green. The eyeshine of a predator meant to hunt in the dark.

Dusk cursed, his stomach tight with fear. In this foreign forest, traveling at night had been a mistake. They should have rested with the buffalo and left in the morning.

Mere hours into the forest, and they were going to die. They couldn’t outrun something that big.

Green turned ahead of him, facing the creature. Dusk turned too, leaves skirling under his hooves. Amber slammed her hooves on the ground, but shook her head when she met Dusk’s eyes.

They couldn’t find shelter. There was no lucky tunnel under the forest here.

Green closed her eyes. She was the only chance they had.

“C’mon, Green,” Dusk said. “Burn it!”

Once again, fire bloomed from her horn. It rushed out all at once, a sheet of flame rather than a fireball, and the dried leaves they had run over seconds before went up like a thousand torches.

The creature shrieked, the sound of a tree branch cracking into a thousand pieces. It’s jaw fell like dry brush onto the ground, the stench of its breath mixing with the burning of the forest. One leg burned completely, and the creature staggered, toppling off balance.

But it still moved. Green panted and swayed where she stood, the fire fading as fast as it had come.

“Dusk,” Amber said, eyes wide. “You need to find us a way out of here.”

“And leave you?” He turned, watching as the creature shuddered. Leaves and branches were already flowing from the trees once again, rebuilding the leg and jaw that Green had incinerated.

“We’ll run. Straight north. But you need to find us shelter, and do it before that thing gets back together. Fly!”

She was right. He hated to do it, but she was right.

He leapt, putting the star to his nose, and sped off into the sky. A small flame followed him, and it gave him strength to go faster. Green.

Alright. He could be a beacon, at the very least.

And maybe, if he could get high enough, he could see Equestria. They were so close, they had to be. They couldn’t give up now.

Below, the small forms of Amber and Green began to run through the trees, disappearing and reappearing underneath the branches. The glow of the creature’s eyes slowly grew brighter, but it wasn’t moving yet.

Dusk winged ahead of them, the small fireball following his movements. He scanned the ground, squinting through the dark. The ground continued on, nothing but earth and loam. For miles. In the far, far distance, something shimmered, probably water.

His stomach sank. There was nowhere they could go to be safe.

And below him, Green was beginning to slow. The small flame that followed him winked out.

He wheeled around, wing muscles screaming. He swooped low, calling out as he passed by Amber. “Keep going! I’ll distract it!”

“No!” Amber shouted, but he ignored her. It was what Grandfather would have done. What he had done.

And Dusk didn’t have a choice. The creature was moving again, the two bright lights of its eyes bobbing through the forest. Gaining speed.

Wind whistling in his ears, Dusk blew past, just over the creature’s head. Long jaws snapped, and his wings ached when he pulled up hard to avoid the jagged wooden fangs. He couldn’t do that again. If he died so quickly, his friends would go next.

Hoping the creature wouldn’t just absorb it, he kicked a branch off of a tree, the small projectile bouncing off the thing’s snout.

It stopped running. The green gaze focused on him.

Dusk flew as fast as he could, the star behind him. The stench of the creature washed over his face, coming in hot puffs.

Success! Now he had to stay alive.

He flew low, low enough to be a target, but that meant dodging every branch and tree in his way. Weaving as he never had before, every muscle in his wings and chest screamed in pain as he performed aerial dodges at speeds he didn’t think pegasi were really capable of. Leaves that were gray in the dark slapped his face and small branches drew stinging trails down his sides.

And it was still barely enough to stay ahead of the snapping jaws. The creature’s stride was just too long.

Sweat dripping down his coat was whisked away by the wind, cooling his body and making his wings cramp faster. His heart beat in his head, forcing him to squint. Every nerve fiber in his body focused on keeping up the pattern, dodging trees, staying ahead of the monster behind him.

He hadn’t flown in too long. He had avoided the gryphons by staying on the ground, but the resulting inexperience in the air would kill him right now just as well as they could.

His right wing locked, muscles cramping so tight they twisted. He fell, spiraling in midair and flapping as hard as he could with the other.

A patch of grass and brush exploded into a plume of scattered leaves and dust when he hit the ground in a ball, twigs snapping underneath his body when he rolled to a stop. He didn’t know if the burst of pain was from the fall or from exerting himself to try and survive, but it didn’t matter.

The creature stepped forward, the stench dizzying. He braced himself.

Then the sky opened, light and heat raining down like it had when Green’s mother had tried to save her husband. For a moment, the forest was bathed in a green glow as the lightning scorched the creature to ashes in front of his eyes.

Dusk could barely move. He tried to get to his feet, to look up or around or anywhere but at the pile of ash that had marked where the creature stood. A chill wind blew, bringing the scent of scorched grass.

He almost fell again at the booming voice.

“WHAT ART THOU DOING?”

Dusk winced, folding his ears against his head. His heart leapt and raced in circles. The creature was gone. That voice wasn’t Rikarr. But in this forest, it could be anything.

Out of the darkness, something landed heavily on the grass in front of him. An armored hoof was placed by his nose.

Dark wings, like his but larger, were spread. A flowing mane partially obscured the night sky. A horn jutted from her forehead.

His heart slowed. A pony. This was a pony. The image on the banner he had seen flashed through his mind. A pony with a horn and wings.

“Art thou hurt?” the pony asked. The first pony he had seen, other than Amber and Green, in weeks. No, months. “Why dost thou not speak?”

“Are you…are you from Equestria?” he managed.

Her eyes widened. “You know not your Princess?”

Dusk got to his feet, legs shaking, relief and happiness chasing each other in circles. Energy filled him, helping him stand and stretch his legs and fold his battered wings. He grinned at this new pony, this Princess.

“Princess,” he said, dropping into a bow like had so often to Rikarr. But this was different. He was no slave, not here. “We’ve come a long way to find you.”

Chapter 8

“C’mon, Green!” Dusthoof ran around her in a circle, the buffalo’s sharp cloven hooves sending bits of shredded grass into the air. “C’mon c’mon c’mon!”

Green blinked, following at a sedate pace. Amber and Dusk were going to talk to the Tribe’s leader, and she wanted to be there.

But Dusthoof was so strange. She had more energy than any pony Green had ever seen, although maybe the earth ponies were like that, down in the fields. She leapt around for no reason, and her legs and barrel were strong from running around in the sun.

“My dad always likes to keep track of me,” Dusthoof said, stopping her bounding for a short time as they approached a large cluster of buffalo at the center of the tribe. “He’s Chief Grass Song’s third in command. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll let you stay!”

“That’s good,” Green said. Dusk looked back at them both, giving Green a small smile. Green’s muscles relaxed. If Dusk wasn’t afraid, then they were safe. Probably.

“Well, look at what we have here!” Green flinched at the bellowing, deep voice. An enormous buffalo, adorned with a crest of dried grass stems, stared down at the three ponies. This must be Chief Grass Song. He was bigger than any gryphon, and sharp horns jutted from the top of his head.

“We are ponies,” Dusk said, arching his neck to look at the enormous buffalo. “We’ve come a very long way. My name is Dusk, and this is Green.” The huge head swiveled toward her and back. “And you’ve met Amber.”

“Yes. She said you were on the way to a place called Equestria.”

“Yes!” Dusk’s voice grew higher in pitch and his ears swiveled forward. “Have you heard of it?”

“No.” Dusk’s ears fell, and Green’s stomach tightened. They still must be so far. Unless Equestria wasn’t even real, and was just a story, like all the stories her parents had told her of ancient ponies. “But we know of ponies like you.”

“I’ve never seen a pony before!” Dusthoof called from next to Green.

Chief Grass Song rumbled, and it took Green a moment to figure out that he was laughing. “The little one is right. You are the first we’ve seen in all of our migrations. But we have many tales of ponies like you.” He nodded. “We have many tales of many creatures.”

“Can we hear them?” Amber asked, taking a step forward. “The tales of ponies?”

Grass Song nodded. “You may share our nightly fires for as long as you like. If you travel with us, you will hear many of our tales.”

Green smiled. She had missed stories.

“Migration?” Dusk asked. “Where are you migrating too?”

“The same trails our ancestors ran, from the edge of the mountains to the edge of the great forest,” Grass Song answered. “We have done so for generations.”

Dusk looked up at the sky, his eyes narrowed. Green looked up too, but she didn’t see what he was looking at. “Do you run along the path of the sun, or across it?” he asked.

Chief Grass Song tilted his head to look at the sky, then swiveled his gaze to another buffalo, who’s fur was tinged at the ends with bits of gray and who’s snout was marred with wrinkles. She wore a bag around her neck. “We run across the sun’s path,” she said, her voice reedy with age. “And for now we go toward the forest, away from the mountains.” She smiled, peering with rheumy eyes at Dusk, Amber, and finally Green. Green shivered under her gaze. She had never seen anyone so obviously old before.

“Do you wish to travel with us?” Grass Song asked. “I don’t know where this Equestria is, but you seem to know where you’re going.”

Dusthoof romped in a circle around Green. “Say yes! Say yes!”

Dusk nodded, snorting in laughter at the prancing Dusthoof. “Alright. We’ll migrate with you, as far as we can. I don’t know if our paths will cross for very long, but…well, we could use the comrades. Safety in numbers.”

Green grew dizzy trying to keep track of Dusthoof as she danced in circles, and Green nearly fell over when the young buffalo leaped over her head, doing a somersault in the air before landing behind her. “C’mon, Greenie, we’re traveling now!” She darted into the grass.

“How long will the journey to the great forest take?” Green heard Dusk ask as she followed Dusthoof away from the meeting. She missed the Chief’s response.

Grass waved all around them, most of the stalks reaching up to Green’s fetlocks. Small insects buzzed around her ears and tail, and she flicked them away. Dusthoof darted ahead of her, zigging and zagging in every direction. “So where did you ponies come from?” she asked, darting back to where Green walked. “Did you come from the Equestria place and you’re going home now?”

“No.” Dusthoof waited, head cocked. “We came from over the mountains. Or under them.”

“What’s on the other side?” Dusthoof did a small dance in place in excitement. “My dad always says it’s dangerous to leave the plains. The mountains have giant cats, dogs and minotaurs, and the great forest has…” she trailed off, blinking. “I forget. But it’s dangerous too!”

“It is dangerous,” Green said with a shudder. “Very dangerous.” Rikarr sneered in her mind’s eye. The buffalo were big, but not even they could stand up to Rikarr’s cruel metal-tipped talons. “Your father is right.”

Dusthoof’s face fell. “Don’t worry now, Greenie. You’re with our tribe. Nothing bad has ever happened to us, and my father will protect you like he protects me!” She nudged Green’s shoulder with her own, nearly sending Green tumbling. “You’ll hear all about our legends tonight. Now c’mon! Let’s run!”

Green paused while Dusthoof darted away. She looked back at the rest of the tribe, picking out individual buffalo. Which one was Dusthoof’s father?

She wondered if her father was still alive. She hadn’t seen him since the dehorning, when the light had gone out of his eyes. When Amber had led her away, he hadn’t said anything, just staring ahead into the distance.

She closed her eyes, summoning up a force inside her. Her horn fizzed, and light gleamed, almost invisible in the bright light of day. Tiny sparks fell and disappeared into the grass. It was nothing like the magic her father had done, when he lifted things for the gryphons, and it paled in comparison to the forces her mother had summoned. Green wished they could have taught her. She wished she had heard more of the legends of old ponies.

Dusthoof still raced around the edges of the herd, and another young buffalo had taken up the chase. “C’mon, Greenie, can’t you run?” she called.

Green let her magic fade, and as it did the day grew brighter around her, the grass suddenly more real. The memory of her father’s blank gaze vanished.

She could run. She had gotten pretty good at that.

***

The herd traveled slowly, but it was still fast enough that fatigue began to slow Green’s steps by the time the sun dipped below the horizon. Or maybe the burning in her legs was just from trying to keep up with Dusthoof.

“Follow the Chief!” Dusthoof said, leaping over Green’s back in a sideways somersault as they cantered. Ahead of them, Amber ran next to Dusthoof’s father, and the last Green had seen of Dusk, he had been trotting somewhere behind them, his small form lost among the herd. “We’re going to head into the evening run now! Then we’ll make the fire!”

Green blinked. In all of Dusthoof’s chattering today about everything from her father’s wisdom to the tastiness of different grasses, she hadn’t explained much about the fire. Green had only been close to fires when Talisk and her mother had visited the forges, where the unicorns melted down ore to help construct Rikarr’s metal talon extensions. She shivered.

“Run faster! You’ll warm up!” Dusthoof pulled ahead, clods of dirt and tufts of grass puffing from the ground from her sharp hooves.

Heart beginning to pound, Green put on a burst of energy. Around her, the ground and air rumbled as every buffalo sped up. This must be why the dogs had called them the thunderhooves.

The noise grew until it thrummed through her body and head, and even the ground beneath her hooves seemed to spring under the weight of the herd. It drew out her breath, and she found the rhythm, a fast paced pound like the beat of her heart.

“Keep up, Green,” Dusk said as he caught up beside her. His coat shone with sweat. “We have to stay with the herd, but we’re still going in the direction of the star. We’ll be safe with them.”

The run grew faster, Dusthoof looking back and grinning as she drew further and further ahead. Green’s body responded to the rhythm of the buffalo’s hooves, drawing her into a gallop she had never known she was capable of, the grass a blur underhoof. Her breathing matched her speed, and soon all she could hear was her own breath and the thunder of the buffalo, a dizzying song in her ears.

This was different than the run yesterday. Then it had been a dash under the stars. Now the evening sun shone pink down upon her and the dozens of others that surrounded her, the wind rushing around them all. She was hidden, and she was fast. Dusk was right. She felt…safe.

It was a strange feeling.

More and more of the buffalo passed her and Dusk, until they ran in the back with only one other buffalo and the gray furred elder for company. The bag around the elder’s neck swayed with her lopsided gait. Just before they fell further back, a bellow cut the air, and the thunder began to lessen.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the evening gallop ended, the buffalo coming to a stop. Dusk collapsed to the ground, flanks heaving. Green swayed on her feet, sweat dripping down her forehead, but she too breathed harder than she ever had before. Without the rhythm of the run, she had to find her own pattern again.

“Why did you not fly?” The elder asked. Green pricked her ears forward. “I am surprised one your age fell back so far.” The old buffalo chuckled.

Dusk stood, stretching his legs. “I would have missed the experience, wouldn’t I?”

“You are wise for one so slow,” the elder said with another snort of laughter. She turned to Green. “Come, little one. Will you help us with the fire?”

Green blinked, turning to Dusk before looking back at the elder. “How?”

The elder grinned. “Come. You unicorns have magic, don’t you? We would love to see it.”

“Go on, Green,” Dusk said. “I’ll come too. Don’t worry.”

Green nodded, even as Dusk’s words made her think. She wasn’t worried.

She followed the old buffalo, Dusk staying close. Other buffalo stretched their legs or tossed their heads, and once two crashed together with a sound like a tree cracking. Dusk tensed, his wings flattening against his body. The buffalo laughed as they broke apart, and the elder shook her head with a quiet laugh.

“So, little one,” she said, and Green tilted her head when instead of looking at her the elder turned to Dusk. “I have never seen one so afraid.”

Dusk’s eyes narrowed, but before he could answer Chief Grass Song’s voice bellowed. “Elder Stonehoof will begin the evening tale!”

The elder—Stonehoof—trotted faster, and Dusk and Green kept up. The buffalo were gathering in a circle around the elder and the Chief, and Green’s eyes widened at the sight of a flattened circle of grass. Dry brush had been gathered and placed inside the circle.

“Elder Stonehoof will light the fire!” Chief Grass Song called. A small shape darted among the herd, and then leapt over the backs of a few buffalo to appear next to Green.

“I want to see!” Dusthoof said. “I love this part.”

“Then you will see a new trick, great-granddaughter,” the elder said. She swiveled her eyes to Green, and Green trembled under the weight of her great dark gaze. “This little pony will light our fire tonight.”

“I will?”

“You can do it, Green,” Amber said. Green hadn’t noticed the other pony arrive. Amber’s flanks were streaked with sweat, but she stood tall and proud, her cutie mark shining with the sheen of her sweat and the dimming glow of the evening sun. “C’mon. Maybe you’ll find your talent too.”

The circle lay before her, and a dry breeze lifted some of the brush. Green called up her magic, using the same light spell she had called upon dozens of times underground. Small sparks fell into the circle, but they vanished among the brush.

“No, no,” Dusthoof said. “Fire, Green, fire! Ponies can do that, right?”

The only fire Green had ever seen were the smelting fires. The ones where Rikarr had made his metal talons. Talons to kill her mother, and cripple her father. The sight of his severed horn lying in the grass flashed across her vision.

Her magic flared with her anger, and heat rushed over her body. Buffalo gasped, and Dusthoof squealed.

“Hot!” Dusthoof shrieked in excitement. A fire roared in the circle, the edges blackening. The buffalo moved away, and Dusk and Amber stared with ears pricked forward.

“Good job, little one,” the elder said, her short snout curled up in a knowing smile. “Now, gather round.” She pitched her voice to the crowd. “I will tell you a story of ponies, ponies like the ones who have just joined us, from the time when our migrations first began.”

***

In the distant past, the plains were very different. The world was wild, free, and the rains would come.

The first herds hated the rains. They were cold, bringing in bite from the north. Ice would coat the ground, and made patches of the grass die. Food was scarce during winter.

One winter, the rain fell as snow, and there were no healthy patches left. The tribes had to make a choice—stay, and face starvation, or move on, heading with the north star at our backs to a warmer place where the snow would not follow.

The chiefs of the tribes reached an agreement, and the migrations began. When the weather grew cold, we headed toward the mountain, and when it warmed again, we came toward the forest. For almost a generation we did this, while the snows fell every winter.

One summer, a tribe of buffalo came back to see a strange thing. Ponies, like the winged one who stands before us now. They carried their belongings with them in the air, tied around their backs, and their eyes were angry.

“Our commander has failed us. Allying with earth ponies and unicorns? What a foolish thing to do. We are leaving.” Those were the words in their mouths and the message in their hearts. They headed into the plains, moving fast in the sky.

But they were not the only ones. Another group of ponies came from the forest as that summer went on. These ponies had horns on their heads, like the little one, and their belongings floated around them with magic.

The words were the same. “Allying with pegasi and earth ponies? Our Princess is a fool. We are leaving.” They headed into the plains, their magic glowing in the night.

In midsummer, the herd saw the ponies for the last time. These ponies looked like the brown one, and carried their belongings on their backs and in huge wagons. They said the same as the last two groups, save for one small pony.

“I don’t want to go,” the small pony said. “I want to go back. I like unicorns and pegasi. I have friends back home. Don’t make me go. I want to live in with everyone. Our harmony will save us. The winter will end.”

His parents tried to make him leave, but he would not. The family was left behind, and they stayed with the Tribe while the rest of the ponies headed into the plains.

The family stayed with the Tribe for the summer. The small pony assured us the cold snow would not return, and that harmony in his new home, his new country, would save the world. His parents did not agree, and told him that when the snows came, they would follow the Tribe into the plains. They said that pegasi, unicorns and earth ponies would never live together.

But when winter came, the snows did not come. The rains did not come either. The weather stayed beautiful.

The little pony beamed. “I told you!” he said. “The ponies have found harmony!” With that, the family turned and headed back into the forest, leaving the tribe and going home.

The tribe did not need to leave as not even the rains had returned, but our migrations had become tradition. The grass had been cropped short in summer, so we headed once more into the plains. But we never saw the other ponies again, even when we reached the mountains.

***

The elder’s voice faded into the crackling of flames, her words settling over Green’s mind like her mother’s stories once had. Around her, buffalo blinked and shifted as though coming out of a spell.

“What happened to the other ponies?” Dusthoof exclaimed, breaking the silence. “The ones who didn’t like each other? If buffalo never saw them again, where did they go?”

The elder chuckled. “Perhaps that is a story our ponies can tell?” she swiveled her gaze from Amber, to Dusk, and finally to Green.

Green shivered. She couldn’t know what had happened to all of them. But to her own distant ancestors, she could guess.