M.I.E. Missing in Equestria

Chapters

Chapter 1: Sandstorm
Chapter 2: Thunderstruck
Chapter 3: Survivalist

Chapter 1: Sandstorm

Chapter 1:
Operation Sandstorm

My son threw me the football. It felt good to finally spend time with him; it had been four years since I last saw him. My tour in the Marines lasted longer than expected. I had seen everything; I had been to all the bad places. There are some things that cannot be unseen. The things I’ve done in the name of survival will haunt me forever…

Two years ago I had been patrolling the Afghani border with my squad by helicopter:

"I’m just saying, why the hell do we have to wear our combat gear while on patrol, I’m way too hot in here. We never see any combat anyways.” Said Johnson, we had been great friends since the first day I arrived here. He has saved my life on many occasions.

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth Johnson, it’s better to be flying up here, above all of the violence, instead of being down there, in the hell hole.” I replied

The weather was incredibly hot, the ground seemed warped by the heat waves as we flew by. It was terrible being up this high in the heat, but I’ve gotta admit, it’s much better being up here than it is down there. I had spent 3 years as a foot soldiers, when you're on the ground, you always have to be on the edge. Danger can come from every direction, an IED could be planted in the corpse of a cow lying by the side of the road, or a group of children might be packing heat. Constant danger.

The helicopter's blades tore through the desert air as we approached the Halfway point on our patrol route. Johnson and I sat at opposite sides of the helicopter, he was on the left side turret, and I was on the right. I have been on hundreds of patrols, the most excitement we ever get is when some trigger happy kid shoots the bottom of the chopper with his AK. So it was odd when I noticed a huge group of people running down the street to the left of me.

“Hey!” I yelled to the pilot, “Down there! Look!”

The pilot swivelled the helicopter to give me a perfect view of what was going on. I wish he hadn’t. Families, children, were trying to escape from a group of rebels gunning down everyone in sight. I saw in perfect clarity as mothers, holding their children, were shot down as they ran away. Some kids turned around, they tried throwing rocks at the rebels. This proved futile as they were pecked with bullet holes the second the rebels got a clear shot.

"Fuck this" I thought as I unloaded the turret on the rebels position, one by one they fell in a hail of bullets. The road down bellow was filled with bullet holes, the walls were painted red. I let go of the trigger as the last rebel hit the ground.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT ROBERT! YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SHOOT THEM!! YOU DIDN’T HAVE CLEARANCE!”

In the frustration and adrenaline of the moment, I hadn’t even noticed that Johnson was trying to pull me off of the gun. I sagged down in my seat. What have I done… I sat there, for a few seconds, thinking about what I had just done. My concentration was broken when bullets bounced off of the belly of the chopper. I thought nothing of it until someone yelled:

“HOLY SHIT! RPG!”

The blast was centered on the cockpit. I watched as both of the pilots were killed by debris flying at them from the collapsing front end of the chopper. The helicopter spun out of control. I blacked out…

My vision flitted back to me. I tried moving my right leg, but the unbearable pain that followed told me that my leg was broken… or worse… My vision returned fully now, I could see in front of me. Directly in front of my face, was the solid floor of the helicopter, It had landed on it’s side. I pulled myself up, making sure not to use my injured right leg. I looked down, at my feet were the bodies the four other people that were in the helicopter with me, but Johnson was missing. How long was I out?

I emerged from a hole in the roof, and then, I saw him.

Johnson was trapped underneath of the chopper, everything under his waist was pinned underneath of the chopper. As I stepped out, he turned his head just enough to look me in the eye. His voice sounded like a coarse whisper:

“Help me… I can barely breath, this fucking hurts.”

I crouched down, and tried with all of my might, to lift the helicopter off of his body. But it was hopeless, no man could possibly lift an entire helicopter. I sat down, tried to comfort him, telling him that help was coming. I sat with him for nearly ten minutes. Suddenly, I heard war cries. More rebels were coming, they were coming to scour the remains of the chopper.

“Shit Rob, their coming.”

“I'm not leaving you! Not like this!”

"You're gonna get murdered out here. Believe it or not, I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

My eyes surveyed the surrounding territories, looking for cover. The streets were marked with various potholes and craters, no doubt created by explosion. Though none were large enough to hide in. I scanned the rooftops, I noticed one building had a half wall around the edge of the roof. It would provide great cover against enemy fire, and give me a perfect view of the helicopter.

"Johnson, I'll take point on that roof up there," I said, pointing towards the building. "stay here, I'll cover you until help arrives."

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?"

His face contorted suddenly in pain, he fell unconscious. I tore off his dog tags and limped towards the nearest ally.

That was the last time I ever saw him.

I as ran through the alley, I spotted a door that lay ajar. While holding on to a nearby ledge in order to support my broken leg, I kicked it inward sending pieces of wood flying, as I had apparently broken the flimsy wooden door. Inside the house lay a family, hiding in the corner of the room, a Father covered his two children and wife with his body. The kids were crying.

“Please don’t kill my daughters! Take me instead! Please let them go!”

I was astonished by the fact that he spoke perfect English. I held out a hand to reassure him that I was not hostile.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. Stay down, and stay quiet.”

I crouched down with my back to them, and my face to the door. Then, I heard footsteps, the footsteps of a kid. He was running, panicked. The footsteps were getting closer to the door, which was completely open seeing as I had broken the entire door upon entry. The footsteps were only feet away now. I could see his shadow arching over the doorway. Upon further inspection, I noticed, hanging over the left of the shadow’s shoulder, was the silhouette of an AK-47.

“Ah fuck, this isn’t going to end well.” I said to myself.

The kid turned through the doorway. He was about 12-14 years old, 5.5 feet tall, wore glasses and a bandana that covered the bottom half of his face. The second he saw us, he un-slung the weapon and pointed it directly at us. He yelled something in Arabic as he pulled the trigger.

In one clean movement, I had un-holstered the knife on my combat boot, and thrown it at him. The knife embedded itself in his middle abdomen region. He began to fall, still holding the trigger. Bullets ricocheted off of the walls, breaking vases and lamps. I lunged and caught the kid, I felt pain shoot up through my leg, at the same time removing the knife and taking the gun from his hands. I rolled out of the doorway, letting the kids body hit the floor. I snapped, this wasn’t the first time I had killed someone, but it was the first time I had killed a kid. I charged out of the alleyway and found myself behind a large 4 story apartment building.

I could hear more war cries and gunfire, they were getting closer, I needed to find a way up the building as soon as possible.

I looked around frantically for a solution. My head spun to the left and my field of view passed over a ladder leading to the top of the apartment building. I quickly climbed to the top, ignoring the searing pain in my right leg and shoulder. Wait, a pain in my shoulder? I didn't remember sustaining any shoulder injuries when I left the helicopter. When I reached the top of the building, I pulled off my body armour and checked my shoulder. As I ripped off my shirt, I saw three bullets holes going clean through my left shoulder, the pain was unbearable.

"Damn, that kid must have shot me!"

The sun was beating down on my head, my own blood was dripping in my hands. Everything went numb, the pain in my leg and shoulder was gone and my vision blurred. That is the last thing I remember of that day.

I woke up, I could hear a rushing noise, surrounding my senses completely. The rushing sound like the soft hush of moving air. My vision flitted slowly back to me and I could see the interior of a truck. I was surrounded on all sides by metal, and an IV bag hung over my head. My vision flitted back to me completely and I now saw that I was in a helicopter.

“Good to see you are finally awake, I had been worried that you weren’t going to make it through those wounds. The blood was leaving your body faster than anything I had ever seen before. And that heat stroke you had wasn’t helping.”

I turned to see a woman, sitting to the left of me holding a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other.

“Where am I?” I asked

“You’re being flown back to base, when we arrived to search the wreckage of that downed chopper, Corporal Lance saw you on the roof, unconscious, so he volunteered to head in. He was able to grab you and carry you back to the extraction zone. He risked his life to save your ass. You need some rest, if y’a need me, just call!”

She walked over to a soldier laying across for me. I placed my head on the pillow and fell into deep sleep.

That was only one of my encounters that made up my hardship in the Marines, I have many more gruesome stories, some of which replay in my dreams every night as I sleep. Other times I have been called a hero, but I don't approve of that title. I feel that I should not be commended, but punished for the things that I have done, even if I was just following orders or basic survival instincts. Each night I am forced to remember my actions, the images replay themselves in the form of dreams. I don't show it, but my sanity is slowly escaping me.

I tucked my son into bed and walked out of his room. Upon entering the Master bedroom, my wife turned to me.

“Babe, can you get me a glass of water.” she said

“Comon! I just got here, why don’t you get it.”

“Because I’m reading”

“Only for you”

I smiled and left the room, heading down the stairs.

As I was grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet, my brain exploded with pain. I cried out in agony and fell on my knees. Everything hurt, my entire body was writhing. My vision disappeared, everything felt fuzzy. My head was buzzing and I could no longer feel my body.

Suddenly, it all stopped. I stood up, everything felt heavier. I looked at my body and noticed that I was in full military gear. A gun hung off of my back, there was a pistol in my holster, a knife in my combat boot, and I was wearing a Kevlar vest.

“What’s happening? Where I am?” I thought to myself.

My eyes scanned the surroundings. I was in a very dense forest. Vines were hanging to every side, and the ground beneath me was scorching, as if an explosion had just occurred. But something was wrong, the blades of grass surrounding me seemed perfect, and every single one of the trees had a scary expression etched into their trunks. I could feel something watching me.

Nothing made sense, where was I? I heard footsteps, small crunching sounds emanating from a nearby bush, very slow and methodical. Suddenly, it lunged at me, a Lion.

Chapter 2: Thunderstruck

Chapter 2:

Operation Thunderstruck

The Lion pounced at me from the bush, because I had faintly heard his footsteps before the attack, I had been put on edge, so when the lion jumped, I was able to roll to the right and evade it completely. This beast was quick, when I got back up on my feet, the lion was already mid pounce. Everything was moving in slow motion, I could see straight down the lion's mouth. A last second decision caused me to duck. Somehow, I was able to hit the ground in time, there was barely an inch of space between me, and the underbelly of the lion. It kept going and hit a tree, nearly de-rooting the entire thing from the ground.

And than, I saw it. The tail of the lion was not that of a cat, no, far from it. It was the tail of a scorpion, the barb was dripping with venom, the beast turned around; anger in it's eyes. As it looked at me, I noticed wings, embedded in the side the side of the beast. Scaly red dragon wings.

That is when I realised I was not fighting a normal lion, but a manticore, a creature of legends! I had only heard of these in fairy tails and children's stories. I sat still, dumbfounded by the fact that, this thing was standing in front of me. It wasn't a figment of my imagination, it was a real, living breathing creature.

"This is a dream" I said out load

The manticore kept it's eyes trailed directly on me, it circled slowly, keeping a predatorial stance. He was ready to pounce at the moment I showed any sings of weakness.

Slowly, it moved closer, until it was within arms reach. I was still mesmerised by the creature, my mind could only class this as a dream. But I still had my doubts, everything felt real, I could feel the weight of my armour and the manticore's breath against me.

I decided to reach out to it and see if it was real. The second that I lifted my arm, the beast swiped with it's claws. The paw met it's mark on my left arm and left a huge, but shallow scratch mark.

"SHIT!"

Before feeling the pain course up through my arm, I had started a mad sprint further through the forest. My movement was faltered heavily by the body armour that I had woken up in. I turned back and saw the manticore, tearing through the grass and criss-crossing between the trees with extreme ease, his eyes were focused directly on me. As I was running I noticed that the forest ahead of me ended abruptly into a swampy bog, I had to act, quickly.

I heard it gaining on me, and continued to run. I estimated that it was right behind me, I could even hear it's frantic breathing. I dropped down on my back, and unsheathed the knife from my boot. The manticore passed directly over my head, I grabbed onto it's pelt, and stabbed my knife into it's underbelly, as it was dragging me across the floor. The manticore was frantically trying to shake me off, it's scorpion tail was jabbing the ground around me. I jaggedly tore open it's abdomen with my combat knife, as I was tearing it along, I could see the entrails slide out of it. I removed the knife and relinquished my grasp on the pelt. His entrails proceeded to pour out, onto me. The manticore cried out in pain, and fell to the ground just beside me.

A trail of intestines lead from the me, to the body of the manticore, who now lay on the ground, in pool of it's own blood. I could still hear breathing from the beast. It's eyes were very much alive, and it seemed to be in a terrible amount of pain. I could not let anything suffer through this kind of torment. Walking over to the manticore, I raised the knife above it's head, and brought it down on his temple. The breathing stopped, and the beasts eyes fell, dead.

I couldn't believe it, not only was I just attacked by a mythical beast, I had killed it. A manticore, slayed by the hands of a mortal. It reminds one of Greek mythology, in which Jason had slew a manticore with his bare hands. I slumped down on to my knees, my entire body was covered in blood.

"What do I do now? What if there are more?"

These kinds of thoughts tore through my mind as I tried to think of what I should do next. I was answered by a simple grumble in my stomach.

"Shit, hungry? Already?"

Lucky for me, I had freshly killed meat lying at my feet. Taking my knife, and reaching into the huge gash in the manticore's abdomen, cut a good hunk of meat from the stomach. When it was removed from the stomach, I placed it on a nearby rock.

"Now, for a fire."

During my time in the Marines, I had learned some tricks on wilderness survival. But, not enough to save ones life during a full emergency like this. Luckily Johnson had taken time to teach me nearly everything you need to know about survival tactics. During any free time, he would spend hours showing me procedures.

"You never know when you could find yourself ass deep in the middle of nowhere." he always used to say.

After spending atleast a half our collecting dry branches, I threw them all into a large pile and started a fire with a technique that Johnson taught me. It seems a tad barbaric to smash two rocks together, but it takes technique, and the rocks must be hand picked. It took me 2 hours to get a single spark. Even after that, the spark was not big enough to catch on. I sat for another 30 minutes, and finally got the fire going.

Placing the stone slab on top of the fire, the meat started to cook, and oh man, did it smell good. For some reason, I was famished, I felt like I haven't eaten for days. After placing all of my effort into cooking the manticore meat perfectly, I began eating. It was one of the most enjoyable tastes I have ever experienced. My mouth lit up with flavours as I chewed, something about the taste reminded me vaguely of steak, but it was still like nothing I have ever experienced before. Granted, any food tastes one hundred times better if you are starving.

After finishing the meal, I sorted through the pockets and bags on my body armour. As I reached into the left ammo pouch, hung next to my hip, I pulled out a journal, with a pen inside.

"What!? I guess I could find some use for this."

I reached back in, and could feel 9mm clips for the pistol, each clip held 15 rounds. The pistol that I had found on me was a Smith and Wesson MP, very common amongst civilians; even I had used it a few times. It was small but it packed quite a punch. I unslung the gun on my shoulder. I was nearly overcome with joy to see that it was a M4 Carbine. I had served with this weapon for nearly 4 years, and it had never failed me. The gun used 5.56×45mm NATO ammunition, that ran off of 30 round boxed magazines, of which, after reaching into my magazine pouch, I had plenty.

I walked over to the manticore, and stabbed my knife into the base of the neck, I cut for about an hour, and had finally removed the head from the body. I wanted to show it off as a trophy, incase anyone ever questioned my sanity after I told them I had killed a mythical beast. Now that I look back on this, it may have been better to take a wing, or the tail, because with only the head, it looked like a normal lion. I placed the head, over my shoulder, and walked off in search of shelter.

Nothing of real interest happened during the hour long walk, the only thing notable was that the terrain had changed from, swampy and murky, to just pure forest, as far as the eye can see. The trees in this forest were dark, and it threw me off. The only sound was from the crunching of my boots, and the sun was nearly down. Not a single gust of wind, no birds chirping, only eerie silence.

My mind raced with thoughts:

"How far until I find civilization? I've seen a manticore, what other creatures are lurking in these woods? Will I ever see my son again?"

The Moon began to raise up into the sky, I had to find shelter and get some rest. Who knows what kind of monsters could be wandering around this forest during the night.

I noticed a rock face that appeared to be less than 4 miles away; this was my only chance for shelter. I began to walk faster, and faster, until my walk turned into a jog, and then into a run. All around me lay eternal woodlands, and this cliff-face was my only chance of survival, a glimmer of hope during dark times. I felt terrified, cries were echoing out from every corner of the woods; it's as if the forest had suddenly sprung to life. I was no longer surrounded by a deathly silence, I was now encased in fear. These cries varied from birdlike chirps, to full out roars, most of which were far louder, and intimidating, than that of the manticore which I had killed.

In under ten minutes I had reached the cliff-face. I was gasping for breath, the kevlar body armour has become a nuisance, and was impeding on my movement, I had to find lighter armour. I walked along the rock-face, lucky for me, there was a small cave entrance about twenty feet off of the ground; I began to climb. The cliff was not too steep, and I was easily able to reach the entrance, it was about 5 feet tall, and 4 feet wide. I had to duck in, seeing as I measured out at 6.3.

After crawling through the entrance, I emerged into an opening, almost like a room. It appeared to be 7x10 feet, and the ceiling was nearly 9 feet tall; this was the perfect place for me to rest during the night. Placing my gear on the floor, I made a makeshift cot using the kevlar body armour. The cave floor was cold, but I had slept on worse.

I closed my eyes, and drifted off into sleep.

Chapter 3: Survivalist

Operation: Survivalist

I woke up, I was starving, my body felt weak. I needed to eat. I stood at the entrance of the cave, shielding my eyes from the sun as it beat directly onto my face. My clothes reeked of old blood from the huge gash on my arm, still bleeding from my encounter with the manticore yesterday. I tore off my shirt sleeve and twisted it into a makeshift bandage, securing it tightly around my arm. The wound didn't seem infected, which was great news seeing as how with my lack of medical supplies, the smallest infection could prove fatal.

My eyes adjusted to the sunlight as I emerged from the entrance to the cave, nearly falling ten feet. I slid down to the ground and began my hunt for food. The manticore meat had rotted quickly without proper refrigeration, I was hoping that I could find some wild berries or maybe even a live animal that wouldn't try to kill me; anything that I could eat.

The sky was nearly clear, save for a small cluster of odd looking clouds hanging near the sun. I left my Kevlar vest, manticore head, and ammo pouches in the cave, I was planning on returning there after the excursion, it was a sort of base camp. On my back was slung the M4 Carbine, and my Smith was holstered over my shirt.

I stuck to the shadows as I walked, the sun was hot, and the cloud cover that moved in earlier had mysteriously dissipated in a matter of seconds. Even though the scope for the Carbine sported a compass, I always made sure that the rock face stayed in my line of sight. After about three hours of walking, I was famished, I had found nothing but trees and bushes. The only piece of the cliff side left in my field of view, was a small part of a rock sticking out above the treetops. I had gone as far as I could, but still no food; I had to move farther. I triple checked my compass, and made sure I had the proper bearings so that I wouldn't lose the HQ.

My hunger began to grow, the hours of strolling in the hot sun had taken a toll on my appetite. The sea of endless foliage appeared to have no end. Tree after tree, vine after vine. Nothing changed.

As I rounded larger tree, I saw something off in the distance; it was moving.

"Finally!" I thought, "hopefully it isn't another manticore."

Climbing to the top of a large tree, I was able to get a clear view of the moving animal. It was a zebra, but not a normal zebra.. I hastily unslung my rifle and placed the scope up to my eye in order to get a better view of the animal. There was something… strange about it. First of all, on it's flank, there appeared to be a symbol of a star. Was it owned by a tribe, and was this their marking? It also had what seemed to be looped earrings, neck rings, and a pouch hanging over it. In this pouch lay a multitude of flower petals. These weren't the only oddities, however. Something was off with this zebra; it didn't seem natural. The proportions did not resemble those of any zebra I have ever seen, it was smaller, and more compact.

"What do zebra even taste like?" I questioned

A zebra. I did not know much about wildlife and nature, but I knew that zebras were native to Africa. But, I was attacked by a manticore. Those beasts are only present in mythology. Unless, there are still massive forest regions that remain unexplored, and just happen to find myself in one of them. I finally felt a glimmer of hope. I was confident that I had pin-pointed my approximate location.

I steadied the gun and anchored it properly in my shoulder, preparing for the shot.

When I was a kid my father and I used to hunt dears, he always taught me to aim for the heart. Because if you are aiming for a head shot, and the creature turns its neck, or cranes downwards to graze, you could miss your shot and alert the animal.

I centred my scope on the heart of the zebra. I took a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger...

The trigger didn't move.

"Fuck!" I mumbled under my breathe.

I had forgotten to remove the safety. I raced to pull the pin.

Click

Now we're ready.

I raised the scope once more to my eye. The zebra began to stroll away, it seemed to be searching for more flower petals.

It's now or never

I hastily re-aligned the shot and squeezed the trigger for a second time.

BANG

The shot seemed to ring out through the entire forest.

The ground behind the zebra was painted red, and it fell to the floor, mouth agape. I slung my rifle back over my shoulder and jumped down from the tree. I began walking towards my fresh kill, I was already excited to finally get a bite of some fresh meat.

As I approached the animal, I noticed it was writhing, gasping for air. I had missed. It was hard to look at the struggling creature as I approached the writhing mass. I knelt down beside it and reached for the knife, holstered in my boot. Pulling it out, I raised it above the zebra's eye.

"I just missed your heart," I said aloud as I prepared to plunge the knife into it's skull using both of my hands.

As the knife was about to enter the eye socket of the suffering animal, it spoke...

I stopped, and lowered the knife.Was I insane? Did I actually just hear a zebra speak? This didn't seem possible, I struck it off as my mind playing tricks on me. Being alone for more than a day without human contact would obviously cause the mind to play tricks. Right? Yet, I was sure that I heard something.

Hesitating for a second, I raised my knife once more above the zebra. This time, I heard it. It had spoken aloud in some sort of language. The sound that the creature had uttered was not a desperate squeal, or a grunt of pain. It was a real word, an organised line of speech. Yet, I could not understand the language.

I looked up from the zebra, and came face to face with a row of glistening white teeth. Falling on my ass with fear, I clambered backwards across the ground until I was back to back with a tree. I stood up and got a better view at the beast. It was another manticore.

It appears that I wasn't the only one tracking the zebra.

This manticore was at least triple the size of the one I had faced earlier. It's mane was long to the point of nearly dragging across the floor, it's body was laden with scars and battle marks, and the barb on the end of the scorpion tail was the size of my torso. I froze, standing still in a mixture of fear and awe. The manticore put one paw over the still struggling zebra, but it's eyes never left mine. It put itself into a stance, not unlike that of a small cat protecting a toy and let out a massive roar the echoed in my brain and forced me to kneel to the floor, holding my head in pain. I watched helplessly as the manticore bit down with it's massive jaws, onto the tracheae of the zebra, holding that position until it stopped squirming. He then picked up his kill, still holding it in his jaws, and walked away through a bush.

I thought of following it, maybe shooting at it. But the mere thought of that monstrous creature in anger chilled me to the core.

I waited for at least 30 minutes, hoping that the manticore was as far away as possible. I finally stood, and continued my walk. I was astonished by the fact that my food had been taken right in front of my eyes. The second my eyes had laid sight on the zebra, I was excited to finally eat. The fact that I had lost it, the chance to eat, weighed down on my mood. I walked dully for hours more.

I noticed the sun beginning to set, and the moon taking it's place in the sky. I stopped and watched this transition. The sheer beauty of the stars beginning to blanket the sky, and the moon taking it's place amongst them, left my mouth agape. I was astonished by the sheer beauty of this event. The stars seemed hand crafted, they were placed delicately forming immaculate constellations, filling the night sky with a beautiful purple hue. The moon itself blanketed the ground around me in a bright light. Shadows from the trees were cast upon the ground. Under any other circumstance, these shadows would be considered eerie. But under the gaze of the beautiful satellite, the forest seemed nearly pristine and the visibility was almost better than day time. The moon seemed so close, so much bigger. The sky seemed to beautiful, too perfect to be natural.

As I continued my walk, my hunger became apparent through a series of violent growls and gargles from my stomach. But I continued to walk through the seemingly empty forest. My hopes had been raised earlier by the beauty of the sky. My whole life, I had never seen a night so pristine. I attributed the beautiful sky to lack of light pollution. I had always lived around massive cities, I guessed that the light pollution actually did make a big effect on the night sky.

The moon lumbered on through the aether, trailing across the beautiful night sky. It had been 4 hours since my encounter with the manticore, and even though I was starving, the night sky took my mind off of it. As I continued walking, I checked my compass for the first time since leaving the sight of the cliff face. It may have been a good idea to check it a scheduled intervals, something Johnson taught me. But I had been to caught up in the beauty of the sky.

"Shit! I was sure that this was north." I yelled aloud, tapping the compass furiously, hoping that it would change directions.

My compass was telling me that I was heading west, I never lose my way. My sense of direction has never failed to amaze me. So I was surprised when my compass told me that I was wrong. I continued to tap the compass, in a dumb hope that it will magically point north. To my astonishment, the arrow began to turn, and then stopped on the N.

"Ha! I knew I was right," I said aloud

But then it moved again, and pointed south, then west, then east, then south again, then north.

'Shit I thought to myself this cannot be good'

Even without a compass, I could still use the northern star to guide me. I looked straight up, nearly getting lost once again in the night's sheer beauty. I searched the stars and nebulae, but no northern star. I panicked, searching left and right. Nothing made sense, no matter where you are in the world, you should always be able to see the northern star. After twenty minutes of furious searching, I gave up, and continued walking in the direction I assumed was north. I couldn't explain any of the anomalies I had just experienced, I was too tired to question it anyways.

After twenty more minutes of walking, I spotted something off in the distance. What appeared to be a tiled rooftop. I cannot describe to you the amount of relief I felt when that object appeared over the horizon. I raced to the top of the nearest tree, nearly falling in my excitement. I removed the scope from my Carbine, and used it as a telescope, looking down the sight. I saw the tiled roof, and what appeared to be the chicken coop, of which the roof was attached to.

"My god, it would feel great to eat some chicken," I said aloud as I re-attached the scope onto the Carbine and leapt down from the tree. As I finally left the clearing, my eyes were tracked directly on the chicken coop, I looked around and spotted an old looking house. It looked slightly Victorian, other than the fact that the roof was covered with grass. Oil lanterns hung around the building, none were lit. I considered knocking on the door of the house, and maybe asking for help from the residents. But at the time, the only thing I could think about was getting food.

I crept quietly into the chicken house, using skills I had learnt in the military, I was able to move through the chicken coop without making a single sound. Even though it took five minutes to move across the floor, I was better safe than sorry. I reached for the two fattest chickens, grabbed their necks and choked them before they could squeal. I hurriedly left the coop as the two chickens I was holding were going insane, even as I held them by the neck they were squirming like crazy. I dropped the first one down on the floor, and got down on one knee. I placed the other chicken under my knee, crushing it's windpipe and holding it down. It continued to squirm. I removed my combat knife from my boot, and used the serrated edge to remove the head of the first chicken. I dropped the inanimate body, and moved on to the next chicken. Using the same technique, I easily removed the head. Blood was pouring from the bodies, and the second one was still moving, even without a head. I grabbed both of the bodies by the legs and began to walk into the forest. My plan was to set up camp in the woods, and after a good meal, I would check out the house I had seen earlier.

Just before entering the woods, I was stopped by an angry voice.

I turned to see an angry pegasus charging at me, spurting random words of a language I could not comprehend.

Yup, you read that right. A pegasus. I could not believe my eyes, another mythological creature out for my blood. It was charging furiously, it's pink mane fluttering in the wind. I stared into it's eyes. Oh god, those eyes. They caused my blood to chill with fear. I dropped the chickens and reached for my Smith.

Removing it from the holster, I lifted it to my face, and aimed directly at the charging beast. As the sight centred on the forehead of the charging pegasus, I stared directly into it's eyes. I shut my own as I squeezed the trigger.

Three shots rang out...

BANG