Lost

”It was here in these ruins that I realized what it was I wanted, to truly lead, to become a king and lead our people to their greatness”

*****

It had been a week since I began my journey north. A week and still no sign of my goal, my home. Equestria, the name of my country, it was another piece of my life I had been able to remember. I could also see my family’s faces, or at least I think it’s my family that I was seeing. A graceful older mare with a white coat and a pale blonde mane, her eyes were similar to my own and I was fairly certain she was my mother. I couldn’t place a face to my father but I was pretty sure he was still around before I wound up out here in the middle of nowhere. Another mare danced through my thoughts, a gorgeous fiery red coat with a matching mane and deep bright blue eyes. The contrast was breathtaking, and I couldn’t help but feel warm when thinking about her.

splash

I looked around, pulled from my thoughts, and realized the land had changed around me. The tree’s once thick had begun to become sparse, the stream I had been following was now wide and deep, fish which I hadn’t noticed before were jumping in the morning light. The sky looked enormous above me without any tree’s to obscure it’s view. Birds of many colors flew overhead, singing and flying without a care in the world. With a smile, I took another step and continued my journey north.

With the change of scenery I found as well a change in diet, wild berry bushes and patches of potentially edible herbs spotted the landscape. The fresh berries, black, red, purple, all left me feeling a bit more chipper than i had previously. Hours passed with frequent breaks eating the new spread before me. That night I slept well, a full stomach and a lazy day comforting me under the glowing moon.

That night I dreamt of warm milk and honeyed treats. A mothers loving embrace and a fathers hoof pushing me forward. It ended all too soon with the light of the sun shining down blinding me as I struggled to wake and resume my journey.

About halfway through the day after that I saw a smoke column in the distance. There hadn’t been and rogue storms that I knew of, so if there was smoke, then that must mean fire, a camp or maybe even a village or a town? My walk became a trot, then a run as adrenaline flooded my system. A wild smile plastered my face as thoughts of a warm bed and cooked food filled my mind. As I ran the column of smoke grew larger and larger, until I realized that if it was a fire it was a very very big one.

Over the next hill I finally saw the source of the smoke. It was a village, but it was engulfed in fire, The thick black smoke rippling from the enormous flames that stretched high into the air. Without thinking I ran ahead, my horn lighting up as I gathered my magic prepared to help in any way I could. Perhaps with enough unicorns we could draw water from the river.

I was shocked to see that there was no pony around the inferno, in fact no one of any of the known races seemed to be present. At least none living, for as I drew near I could see the bodies in the flames, still, unmoving, very much dead. I had to turn away as I lost my lunch, the berries that had been so gloriously filling now coming up in waves of nausea and disgust. I forced myself to look back and listen, maybe someone was still alive, maybe I can still save someone, anyone! With desperation I drew my magic together and gathered as much water as I could and pulling it over my body as I ran into the flames. The water acted as a shield but even still I cold feel the heat beginning to seep through. If I wasn’t quick even with the bubble of water I’d merely be boiled alive instead of burned alive.

The village was in tatters as I ran through, clearly the small settlement had been attacked before being set to the torch, and sadly I saw no signs of anywhere someone might have been able to hide from the inferno. The water was steaming and I had to change course, getting myself free of the inferno before I stayed too long. The magic I had been channeling left me as I broke away from the village, the water surrounding me losing it’s shape and soaking me through as it splashed down. I could only wait and watch as the village burned. Here and there I would gather water and do what I could to keep the fire from spreading to far.

I spent a day and most of the following night there, doing my best to guard the fire and hoping that maybe after the fire had run it’s course that I might find someone. On the following day I judged the village to be safe enough to roam, so long as I kept some water with me to extinguish the coals and embers left still burning. There were very few structures standing, as the village seemed to have been mostly made from wood and thatch. Simple and easier materials to acquire but dangerous for situations exactly like this. The structures that still stood were typically one wall or corner of a building were rudimentary stone or clay bricks had been lain, likely for more important buildings or storerooms where protection from the elements were needed more. As I searched I lost hope that I would find anything left alive after the blaze, the corpses that had greeted me the day before had long since been turned to ash and dust, small fragments of bone being the only visible remains left. I found one house with a cellar and that that perhaps here there would be someone that had kept safe from the fire. When I opened the doors and found my way in I saw a single unmoving body slopped against the wall in the far corner. When I called out it didn’t move and my heart, weary as it was, couldn’t take it anymore. I realized, as I dragged the cold body out of the cellar, that this village had meant more to me than it should have. Not due to some need to be a hero, or some deep righteousness, nay I had been lonely. To me this village had been a chance to talk with someone again, someone who didn’t want to eat me at least. Of course as I looked down at the corpse, what seemed to be a griffin, that wasn’t guaranteed either.

Even with magic at my disposal, digging a single grave for the Griffon who’s name or origins I didn’t know, took me hours. With the fire dead and the body buried I stopped and realized that the world was silent. Any wildlife in the area had fled the blaze and wouldn’t be back till the smell of smoke had left the area, and with the fire being out not even a faint crackle could be heard in the air. I sat there and looked over the silent remains of a village burned away, and I wondered. Could I have saved the griffon? If I had found the cellar door as I ran through the blaze could I have saved it? I couldn’t even tell if it was a he or a she, I had never met a griffon before, let alone seen one. Perhaps if I had gathered more water, fought through the pain of the heat, maybe I wouldn’t have been too late.

* * * * * *

Three days had past, and I continued my journey. As I walked following the river I could see a mountain beginning to loom in the distance. If there had been other villages near by I had missed them, and there was no way to tell. Luckily there had been no other signs of fire in the distance, so if there had been other villages around then they weren’t being torched.

The river had shrunk again, the calm fish filled currents leaving me with white noise ridden rapids, skinny and seemingly unending. Along with the river changing so to did it’s previously smooth grassy shore. Now gravel, boulders, and hills blocked my way. As the river could double back and after centuries, having dug it’s self a path around the hills I had had a much more difficult time. Climbing my way up and down hills, having to avoid drops into rushing water by traveling along side steep inclines until things either smoothed enough to cross or a natural bridge of sorts popped up. Once I had to cross the river over an old Oak long since fallen and more than likely rotted through, though it’s size kept it stable enough that I was able to cross quickly. Another time I had to leap across stones one at a time, like a frog between Lilly pads. As well the berries that had been so plentiful faded with the change in terrain, and any local stalks of grass were back to being my staple.

The nights had also grown noticeably colder, with my travel. My now nightly ritual involved collecting enough wood to keep a small fire going all night. Though with the change in landscapes wood became more sparse and harder to accumulate. By morning I had more than run out of wood, the ashy remains of my campfire did nothing to comfort me through the early hours of the morning, and the sun did noticeably little to warm me in the morning. The seasons were going to be changing.

After roughly two weeks of travel, I had lost the river. It simply ran as a waterfall and disappeared into rock below. A cave had clearly been the river’s new course of action, leaving me with the choice to go back or to continue, climbing over the mountains that now lay before me. Though snow was visible at their peaks a good portion of them still seemed to be covered in a variety of vegetation, enough that I could probably survive the trip, so long as I could find water along the way. Surely there would be streams from snowmelt. So I began my climb, the hills before me becoming steeper and rockier. Without a path to help guide and with the mountains closing in around me, I had to start traveling in shorter intervals as the sun was blocked by mountain in the morning and the darkness would come earlier as the sun set behind the rock.

The wind would howl as it swept along the peaks high above me, and the tree’s grew thicker in the valleys between. Once I thought I saw a flicker of flame in the distance, a campfire on a far away ridge. By the time I reached the peak I found what might have been a camp, trampled terrain and the remains of a fire pit in a small clearing of trees. Though I could tell someone was here recently, I couldn’t tell which direction they had gone. I decided then I would try to pay attention to my surroundings even more than I had before. I would spend hours looking for signs and traces, things I remember from stories and books. Broken branches, marks on trees, a scuff or print in the dirt, I found myself quite a poor tracker though, as most times even if I found a broken branch I didn’t know how to determine which was someone was going from it, let alone how it might have broken off.

Failed attempts at tracking aside, I seemed to be making some good progress as I no longer was being forced into and uphill battle, rather I was faced with more slopes to descend. Unfortunately this also led me to find out the other side of the mountain range was face it the prevailing winds, mornings had grown cold and foggy and most afternoons I was hit with rain.

A cold front hit me one night, called forth by the wendigos of old I’m sure. The biting cold was followed by sleet which stuck to my coat, soaking me through and cutting me to the bone with chills and misery. I continued walking through that storm, even as it turned from stinging sleet, to a furious blizzard. I used my magic as best I could to shield me from the wind. Shelter, anything would do, but try as might, the snow was blinding me and I could barely see the ground just before me. Eventually I found myself huddling behind a bolder, it’s bulk blocked most of the oncoming wind and snow, and with the rest of my magic I was able to keep myself warm with a small conjured flame. My thoughts shifted back to the flaming village, and I had to wonder which death was worse, burning alive with your friends and family around you, or freezing to death all alone. My eyes drooped and my vision failed me as my magic ran out the small flame, which had been doing it’s best to warm me, vanished.

I’m not sure who helped me that day, whether they were of the mortal plain or some spirit passing my deciding to help me on a whim. The next morning I had woken up in a cave with a crackling fire nearby. There was enough wood stacked up for a few more hours keeping the flames kindled with no one else to be seen. Try as I might to detect tracks all I could find was was scrape in the dirt, which judging by the dirtied and matted side of my body would have been left by my dragged body. Whoever had saved me, I was grateful and I wished I could show it. I waited for the howling blizzard to cease while safe in the cave, the wood lasted longer than the snow storm, but even still no one appeared to claim being my savior. Warm from the fire, and feeling I had waited long enough I left the cave and continued my journey.

The snow was heavy making it much harder to make any sort of decent time. Even worse now that I was up and moving I realized how hungry I was, and that I’d have to dig through the snow to find half frozen hay grass to eat. Resigned I decided to try my luck with potentially getting out of the snow further down the mountain before looking for a meal.