Trinity of Time: Fate and Change

Ack... My head hurts... Why does my head hurt? What the heck did I do last night? Hang on... Memory's coming back... I remember now! The townsfolk warned me about the timberwolves, lurking about under the moonlit skies. Darn it! Why can't I listen to others more often?! Hold on... Brain still hurts... Got it! When I stepped into the open, inside some sort of clearing, they ambushed me with their vicious teeth and sharp claws. I have no idea what happened after that. All I can remember is the pain, and futility of my struggle... Each time I killed one, two others came. Eventually, I ran out of magic energy, yet they only grew even more restless. What I saw in their eyes... All that hate and loneliness, unable to trust anything, including each other. I heard their howling pleas, as I had been left with no other choice but to bludgeon them face to face. Skulls were crushed, and blood had been shed. Too preoccupied with themselves, those ruthless timberwolves took no time to mourn their comrades. Once lifeless, they to had become a nuisance. They too were being torn to pieces: a feast for the starving.

Speaking of wounds, how badly hurt am I? If only I can gather enough strength to escape the nightmare, and open my eyes. Hang on... Just a little more... Crap.. My limbs hurt pretty badly. I must be covered in scars and cuts. Wait a second... Why is the ground fluffy? What's that in my mouth? Ack! Feathers?! Fueled by a sudden burst of energy, I jumped up, ready for anything. Turns out, I wasn't even in the forest anymore, but rather in some sort of caravan. Underneath my hooves lay a fluffy pile of feathers, arranged together as some sort of bed. Sunlight pierced through the thick cloth roof. I had to cover my eyes for a moment, my being still in shock. When I did however, I noticed something missing; pain, blood, and scars. I bit myself just to make sure I was still alive. Ouch! Yep, I still am. So then, where are the scars? What about the blood? I'm sure they did more than scratching me a little. And... And... Is that apple pie I smell?

"Ah! So you're awake, miss Lavender," exclaimed an outside voice. "Come out and have some pie." I stepped off the pile of feathers, and out the wooden frame in which they were kept. The vehicle itself was spacious enough to fit at least two, yet compact enough to be carried around. I stumbled upon a small wooden table, along with a few cabinets nailed to the ebony plank walls. Looking up one last time, I noticed a small, nearly transparent film. I've heard of it before; one would stick it beneath some sort of fabric, instantly rendering it impermeable. Enough of that; I need to go outside.

Right away, the bright morning sun wasted no time blinding me with its splendor. The air possessed a certain chill to it; a feeling I had never felt before in my life. Where was I? Hmm... It smells like apple pie alright. I took the time to properly awaken, rubbed my eyes for a second, and surveyed my horizons. All around, trees covered the land for miles and miles. Below me stood a rugged cliff, a couple hundred meters high; the mountain's edge. I backed away, horrified an sick. It was just like looking down from the watchtowers back in Canterlot. I can handle looking at the horizon, but staring straight down makes me sick. It's like staring gravity in the eyes, while it quietly awaits your temptation, you inevitable fall from high grounds.

"So, miss Lavender? Have you recovered yet?" I recognized that voice! Yes; nopony else could fake such an English accent! I turned to him, an old merchant friend of mine, who used to visit all the time when I was little. Each time he came, he always presented the Princesses and I with a gift, before we would run along on an evening stroll together, as I listened to his stories about the lands far beyond Canterlot's walls. For all these years, I never knew his name. For all these years, his appearance hasn't changed a bit. For all these years, I've called him "grandpa..." Then, one day, he never came back...

"Well?" asked the merchant, "do you still like apple pies?" I tried speaking, despite still being in shock. My lips would not move, still sealed shut. He really hadn't changed at all; same grey coat and silver mane, which covered his right eye. I knew he already saw it in me; years of memories, buried by the flow of time just whisked by faster than words could ever describe. He just stood there, immobile, with a pie in his hooves. "Grandpa..." I muttered, unable to hold the tears back anymore.

"Hiya kiddo," he replied, putting down the pastry aside, welcoming me with open hooves.