Dripfeed

by RangerOfRhudaur

Rating: teen
Tags: Violence, Wallflower Blush, Drama, Original Character, Dark, Adventure, Equestria Girls
Length: 10197

Wallflower grows, drip by drip.

Cloudsdale prepares for war against an unknown invader. The Stormlings ready for battle, for their mountain homes to become islands in a sea of war. This is not their story.

Castellot reels from a riot led by the Unmarked, a riot which has caused one of the Element-bearers to disappear. The capitol takes stock and grieves, and debates how to respond. This is not their story, either.

Wallflower Blush lies in a cave, far from civilization, far from the battlefield. She watches, and learns, and dreams. This is her story.

Continuity: The Song of the Spheres
Branch: The Heirs of the Everfree

Published 2021-06-22 04:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2021-06-30 18:33:13 UTC

Old Growth

In a cave beneath the Everfree Forest, for a length of time unknown, Wallflower Blush lay dreaming...

The last screams of the Great Enemy faded away as he was thrust into the Abyss. They were quickly replaced with a great quaking and cracking, the sound of a thousand boulders breaking at once. Trumpets blared, and all fell to the ground, clutching their ears against the divine sounds.

Then, swifter than a heartbeat, it stopped, and all fearfully rose back up. But, to their surprise, they looked out on crowds a good deal smaller than those that had stood before the awesome music began: all of them, as a matter of fact, only looked upon their own kind, or those similar. The rest of the world stood similarly reduced, and even the Everfree had been winnowed. What had happened? Where was everyone?

A radiance appeared among the remaining crowd, so bright that Wallflower couldn't bear to look at it. It spoke, but the words boomed, too loudly for her to decipher. She cried out and tried to run away, and to her shock ran out of the world entirely, emerging in a warm, dark void. Turning around, she gasped: there was a great tree behind her, gnarled branches spiraling out before ending in beautiful fruits. Swimming through the void, she went over to examine one of the fruits, and found that it wasn't a fruit at all; it was a small, crystal globe, its interior the world she'd just left.

She gasped and retreated a bit as light began to twinkle out of the globe. Soon, a trail of rainbow light extended from it to another globe, connecting the two of them. More trails began to appear, some a rainbow of colors, others only a few, some only one, until the whole tree stood wrapped in faint chains of light.

"So was the Sundering of the Worlds," Stumper said, appearing at her side. "After the War of Creation and the suspicions it roused between creatures, what was one world became many, the many fruits of the World Tree Yggradsil. But though they were sundered, the worlds were not completely separated; paths were made between them, and space left for more paths to be made in future."

"It's so beautiful," Wallflower murmured. "And so big. How many worlds are there?"

"Too many for simple folk like myself to know," Stumper bashfully admitted. "But those that concern us are much smaller in number, thankfully, only three; Alftria, Nilftria, and Homestria."

"Alftria?" Wallflower furrowed her brow. "What's there like?"

Alftria, home of the Fair-Folk, sun-dappled land of a thousand palaces. Grassy golden fields rolled beneath Wallflower, tall trees rising like waterspouts and marble keeps standing proud and defiant like islands in a golden sea. There was laughter and music all around her, and she couldn't help the smile that came to her face. A ray of sunlight pierced the canopy of leaves and clouds, and she sighed in relief as she bathed in its rays.

A cry came up from somewhere ahead of her, and she opened her eyes to an astounding sight. A host of Fair-Folk tramped through the grass towards her, bright blue banners fluttering from atop shining lances. Their armor gleamed like bronze and gold, though they seemed to wear it like silk, and their friendly, sun-baked faces peeked out from under high helms.

"Hail, woman!" one of them called. "Don't worry, we'll see our dark cousins off for you."

"Huh?" Wallflower frowned. "What cousins?"

They didn't reply, marching off to war while singing with high voices. She frowned as she watched them pass; they seemed to fade away as she watched, bronze and gold and blue dulling to grey before vanishing like smoke. Shivering at a sudden chill, she looked up to see the sun covered by a dark cloud. She looked around; the Fair-Folk's armor wasn't the only thing to fade, it seemed. The grass seemed more sand than gold, now, while the marble keeps she'd seen before had been abandoned or ruined, visions turning to rubble in the span of a march. She couldn't hear any song or laughter now, either, only the wind gently whistling through the trees.

"Ai!" a Fair-Folk voice pierced the silence. "How did you pass the Fence?"

She turned to look at them, and did a double-take; they seemed smaller than the soldiers she'd seen before, and less beautiful. They looked more like a leaf than a flower, so to speak, plainer, duller. The shining armor was gone, replaced with simple white cloth, while the face that she'd once seen as friendly was now nervous, if not angry.

"I asked you a question," they repeated while she stared. "How did you pass the Fence?"

"I don't know," she stammered. "I don't even know what the Fence is."

"Okay," the Fair-Folk dragged her hands down her face. "Okay, you just-just stay here while I find one of the Sentinels, they'll send you home and-and we can both act as if this never happened."

Before Wallflower could ask what was going on, they vanished, and a starless night fell. "What," she slowly asked. "what happened?"

"The Fair-Folk are not as fair as they once were," Stumper replied. "They have retired from the world outside of their capitol, trusting in their Fence to keep interlopers out. They were once our greatest allies, but now they view us as they view mortals, with suspicion and distrust. No elven host will come to our aid this time, I fear."

Wallflower furrowed her brow. "Don't you mean, 'they view us like they view other mortals?'"

Stumper stiffened. "What?"

"The way you said it," she replied. "it almost sounds like you don't think we're mortal, but, at least according to Maristotle, all Men are mortal."

"I meant Everfree," Stumper corrected herself. "They view Everfree like they view mortals."

"Oh," Wallflower nodded in understanding; Gaea's immortality, and the history it had allowed her to witness, were one of the first things she'd told Wallflower about.

Stumper smiled back at her, then snapped her fingers.

Nilftria, home of the Night-Folk, quiet land of a thousand greys and greens, the night to Alftria's day. Bone-like beeches stretched up like pillars of marble, holding up a roof of onyx shingles and stars. Sandy trails cut through the short grass, leading deeper and deeper into the wood. No branch or leaf marred the ground, no breath of wind disturbed the silence, no evidence of life disturbed the stillness of the land.

Hesitantly, she began following one of the trails, hard-packed by endless feet. It felt like the forest was trying to make her the same, to quiet the interloper who dared to disturb its peace and silence. But it felt loose, in a way, or light, like the forest was trying to find her so that it could bring its full weight to bear. She sadly smiled; her ability to avoid notice seemed to extend even to here.

But evidently not to all here, as an arrow embedded itself in a tree a hairsbreadth ahead of her. "Halt," a low voice pierced the silence. "or the next shall not miss you."

Wallflower froze, holding up her hands in surrender, then turned to look at the speaker. She blinked in recognition; she'd seen them, or at least someone like them, before. They were one of the dark-clad scouts she'd seen in one of her first visions, a bow of bony white clutched in their grey hand while a black-headed arrow stood pulled back with the other. Glinting chocolate eyes glared out from under a hood.

"What brings you here?" he asked, not taking his eyes off her or his hands off the bow.

"I'm, uh," she nervously replied. "going through some training. Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you."

The arrow thudded in the tree, a hair behind her, and faster than she could blink another was loaded. "Who do you serve?" he asked.

"Gaea Everfree," she replied. Her mind had tried to tell her not to, but her instincts, recognizing the arrow pointed at her, overrode it. Instead, she tensed, preparing for whatever the... creature in front of her decided to do next.

That was look at her, or maybe Stumper appearing at her side, in surprise, the arrow slackening somewhat. "The Night-Folk have been the enemies of Everfree for centuries," Stumper warned her. "Speak that name to them and you'll be marked as an enemy."

"Why?" she asked.

"One of their lords proposed marriage to Gaea," Stumper replied. "Him being mortal and her immortal, though, she had to refuse. They've been at war with Everfree ever since."

"Wow," Wallflower snorted. "I'm a social sprout, and even I know that's not how you react to that."

"The sprouts know much that the flowers don't," Stumper nodded. "Lairds the two elven-kin call themselves, lords and ladies, but to me they've always seemed somewhat... well, foolish."

"You've said that word twice now," Wallflower asked. "What does 'elven' mean?"

The elves, one of the great sapient tribes of the World Tree branch around Homestria. Like and yet unlike Men, no mere sub-tribe are they, but a people as marvelous as those they are commonly mistaken for due to their physical similarities, though elves are typically taller, lighter, and distinctively eared. There are many other cases like this, of small but significant differences between elves and Men; elves do not die to age as quickly as Men, but they succumb to wounds easier; elves are artful, Men are practical; an elf might make one work of sublime beauty in a lifetime while their human counterpart makes a hundred things of much rougher quality. Elves, generally speaking, are a tribe focused on beauty, while Men focus on power, both focuses having good points and ill.

Two main houses of elves are there, the Alfin and the Nilfin, or as they call themselves the high-lairds and the deep-lairds. The high-lairds are the elves of sunlight and trees, delighting in song and works of art that make use of the light they love. Once, they were mighty warriors and captains, Alfin hosts striking fear into the hearts of evildoers everywhere, spears glinting like beams of the Sun which their magic could hide at need. But as the years passed, the glamor of war faded, and with it the Alfin appetite for it; the mighty Fyngulfyn fell, then Amruth his right hand, and then the Alfin withdrew from war entirely, entrusting the defense of their homeworld to the mages who maintained their Fence, a wall of magic that bewildered and lead astray any who attempted to pass it. Their love of beauty dwindled as well, becoming little more than a hunger for complexity, for ornamentation, for that which the wise saw could as easily mar beauty as enhance it.

As the Alfin have waned, the Nilfin, the elves of starlight and mosses, have waxed. Delighting in silence and art of twilights, shades, and greys, the stillness-loving deep-lairds are a dark mirror not only of their Alfin cousins but of all life. Lurkers in the shadows of the light cast by their brighter cousins, they've grown bold as the Alfin grew insular; their hunting parties, once infrequent and confined to the darkest of places, have become as commonplace as attacks by wild animals and as widespread as starlight, countless creatures feeling the chill of their silencing arrows and obsidian spears. Their love of beauty has twisted into a desire to see all the world become like their home: still, silent, and grey. And, thanks to the anger millennia of confinement to the shadows has imprinted on them, they aren't too particular about how they achieve that goal.

When dealing with either house, proper courtesy and etiquette is necessary; elven girls are always to be addressed as countesses, boys as counts, women as ladies, men as lords. All elves, even the lowest, believe that it is their right to be addressed in such a way, and take a refusal to do so as a slight on their honor, a slight which they will be quick to punish.

"So," Wallflower put a finger to her lip in thought. "the old Sunset Shimmer was kind of like an elf?"

"Arrogance isn't exclusive to elves, doe," Stumper chided. "They just have more that they can feel arrogant about."

Blushing, she sheepishly nodded, then furrowed her brow. "Have," she asked hesitantly. "have you ever met an elf?"

"They haven't been in Everfree for thousands of years," Stumper chuckled. "I'm not that old."

Wallflower frowned, then looked closely at her friend. She couldn't make out much under her gnarled armor, only her eyes, glinting like emeralds. "How old are you?" she wondered out loud.

That question gave Stumper pause. "Thirty-four," she gruffly replied. "Now, I think we should-"

"Thirty-four's not that old," Wallflower interrupted. "Why would you feel uncomfortable telling me that?" (It was clear, even to social-sprout Wallflower, that Stumper had felt uncomfortable answering the question; going from chuckling to almost growling like that wasn't something someone did when they were comfortable.)

"Wallflower, please," Stumper sighed. "This isn't important, your education is."

"And the welfare of my friend," she replied defiantly. "is just as important."

Silence, stiller than Nilftria, fell. Then, Stumper mumbled, "No, it's not," and snapped her fingers again.

She was looking down on a clearing in the forest, within which lay a circle of stones. An elf-ring, a construct which their magic could turn into a portal between their homeworld and the world where the circle itself stood. Due to the magic used to construct them, they were almost impossible to dismantle, at least without causing an explosion. Though both houses made them, only the Nilfin rings remained, the Alfin destroying their's when they erected the Fence.

A breeze whistled over the ring and light danced within it as a dark-clad creature, now known to her as a deep-laird, appeared, before quickly stalking away into the forest. It was a scout, probing their defenses and numbers before the main host arrived, before the Nilfin avenged the slight Everfree had inflicted on them so long ago.

"This is not merely an old hatred boiling over," Stumper warned her. "They're in league with the Windigos, planning to destroy Everfree as a display of loyalty."

"What?" Wallflower blinked in confusion. "How could they possibly trust the Windigos? They're literal demons."

"Honeyed words," Stumper shrugged. "or ones that inflamed their hatred of us. It doesn't matter: it's not our place to question their foolishness, only to respond to it. Our response is limited, though; while Gaea sleeps, it's just you, me, Willow, and Timber."

"So four people," Wallflower said. "against an army."

"Those four people," Stumper reassured her. "can each do the work of twenty, at least. Four wolves against an army of cats is more even than it sounds. But one of those wolves is young, and needs training; will she let one of her packmates help her?"

Wallflower nodded, then prepared to take Stumper's outstretched hand. Before she could, though, she remembered what they'd been arguing about, and furrowed her brow in thought. "What," she slowly asked. "does Wallflower Blush's packmate look like, under her armor?"

Stumper hesitated, then barked, "Does it matter? Wallflower Blush only needs to see her in her armor."

"She'd like to see her outside of it," she replied, though with less fire behind her words; she understood wanting to hide one's appearance.

Stumper hesitated again, then snorted. "It'll complicate things?" she muttered to herself. "Things are already complicated, Gaea." Then, to Wallflower's surprise, she took off her helmet, letting her hair free, her hair that was like silk.

To be precise, corn silk, sprouting out of a head of wood. Her eyes, still striking green, peered without pupils out of black sclera, emerald sparks floating in a void. Her wood-carved face looked not too much older than Gloriosa's, but something about it told Wallflower that looks were deceiving here.

"Wha?" she gasped. "What-what are you?"

"The Green-Warden," Stumper replied, shifting her helmet under an arm. "executor of Gaea Everfree's will within her realm, protector of all that is green and growing within the Everfree Forest. As for tribe, though, I am still a Man, as I was before I took on my mantle. A Man, and yet more."

Wallflower's eyes widened in realization. "You took on Gaea's favour, too," she asked. "didn't you? That's what-what made you like this."

"She didn't grant me her favour like she did you, no," Stumper shook her head. "But this," she tapped her head, producing a wooden clunk. "is her gift, yes."

Wallflower swallowed nervously. "Is," she asked hesitantly. "is she going to do-to give me that gift, too?"

"I don't know," Stumper admitted. "Her ladyship's mind is not mine to fathom. I'm a bud, not the flower she is."

Is she a flower? Wallflower found herself wondering as she looked over the form of her, hopefully, friend. You've been more helpful to me than she has, when she basically forced me to take her favour without letting me know what it actually means. She frowned. What other secrets is Gaea hiding? You, what me giving her my favour does, what her giving me her favour does; she's been keeping a lot of secrets, actually. How much has she actually told me?

A thought crossed her mind that made her blood chill; was it really Stumper that stood before her, or simply Gaea in disguise? Was her friend, the thing she'd thought of as her friend, really just Gaea's puppet, something she could use to spy on her?

And if so, was she going to be turned into a puppet, too? Would her head soon turn to wood like Stumper's, a wooden dummy head Gaea made seem to talk?

She shivered, then cast a wary glance at Stumper, at her eyes, searing emeralds. She needed answers, and she couldn't go to her usual source for them; until she knew otherwise, she'd have to treat Stumper as the spy she feared she was. No, if she wanted answers, she'd have to find them herself.

"Even if Gaea does give you my gift, though," Stumper cut through her thoughts, her voice reassuring. "it won't change the most important thing about you. You'll be a Man, and more besides, but most importantly," she gently tapped over Wallflower's heart. "you'll still be Wallflower Blush, and nothing can change that."

She smiled back at Stumper, weakly and falsely. I hope you're right, Stumper, she thought to herself. I really hope you are.

Author's Note

The continuation of Wallflower and the Everfree's arc in the larger narrative. Chronologically this is the sequel to The First Fall Revolution, though narratively it's the sequel to Up Through the Roots.

New Growth

Her eyes fluttered open as she woke up. Or was it as she fell asleep? Since Gaea had given her her favour, she'd spent more time dreaming than awake, though exact numbers were hard to come by; it had been a long time since she'd last seen the Sun, and her internal clock hadn't ticked since she'd gone underground. Forced to guess, she estimated she spent about twelve or fifteen hours a day dreaming, maybe more; she seldom moved from the woven grass pallet Stumper had made her after her first day of training, her time awake spent either being examined by Stumper, drinking the strange sap-like soup the Green-Warden gave her, or staring into the darkness. Her time awake had become so limited, and her time dreaming so bountiful, that she began to wonder if she'd gotten them reversed, if the time she thought she was awake she was actually dreaming, having a horrible nightmare. Maybe she'd really lived her whole life in the cave, stuck in a coma that they'd only recently been able to bring her out of.

She shook her head; Stumper had warned her, when she'd started teaching her how to use her new abilities. "The problem with dreaming," she'd said. "is wanting to wake up again. Legends say that dreamers or seers, like you, seldom die; instead, they fall asleep, go off dreaming or seeing, and never come back. The visions you'll see, either in the eyes of your dreams or the eyes of the world, will be marvelous, but the visions your own eyes show you in the real world are important. Don't forget yourself, doe, no matter how dull you think you are." She was boring here, so she knew this was the real world; no nightmare could come close to the dullness of reality.

She bit her lip guiltily. She'd been trying to escape that dullness, even when Stumper had told her to take breaks. Once she'd learned how to cast her sight (and control where she cast it), she'd done so at almost every opportunity; she'd taken to falling asleep on her stomach so that Stumper hopefully wouldn't see the glow her eyes gave off as she went on her unauthorized wanderings.

It was just too incredible for her to resist; she'd always loved tending to plants, being able to interact with them like this was a dream come true. She'd spoken with the trees, the ferns, everything that grew in Everfree: one rest would be spent catching up with the water-lilies, the next listening to the news the creepers carried, the one after that spent hearing the tales of the trees. She had more than a million friends now, ones she made against Stumper's warnings.

She tensed; that reminded her of what the Green-Warden had shown her, and the doubts that revelation had awakened. Just what had Gaea done to Stumper? Was she planning to do the same to her? Was there any of Stumper even left, hidden behind that knotted skin? What else was Gaea not telling her about? She needed answers, and she needed to figure out who she could actually go to to get them; she couldn't trust Stumper about this, or Gaea. But who did that leave her?

Creaking steps began approaching, the creaking steps of the thing she'd thought of as her friend. Stumper walked over to her, carrying another bowl of the strange soup that had been Wallflower's breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the past... days? Weeks? Months? Years? How long had she been down here? How much time had she spent outside of time?

Stumper grunted as she sat down on the edge of Wallflower's pallet, handing her the bowl. Wallflower took it and began drinking: she'd thought of the possibility of Stumper trying to poison her, but that fear had proven easily dismissible; if the Green-Warden had wanted to do anything to her, she'd have done so already.

Stumper stayed seated as the sap trickled down her throat, tasting faintly of honey and sunshine. After a few moments, she cleared her throat and said, "My hair didn't change much when Gaea gave me her gift, you know."

Wallflower stopped drinking, looking at her in confusion.

"I was blonde before I entered her service," Stumper explained. "Yellow as a daffodil, silky as a spiderweb, long," she pointed at Wallflower. "as your's. All the other does were jealous of it," she chuckled. "and all the stags begged me for locks of it. They treated it like it was amber, or gold."

Wallflower nodded, then began drinking again.

And Stumper began talking again, saying, "I like your hair. Green as grass, not too long, not too short. I bet all the stags begged you for locks, too."

Wincing, Wallflower shook her head.

Stumper frowned. "Why not? You're pretty, tall, healthy, good hips-" Wallflower almost choked at that. "-skilled at gardening, at least one stag should have asked for a hair by now."

Wallflower shook her head and drank deeply, trying to cool the blush across her face.

"Hoom," Stumper snorted. "Stags. No, not even stags, bucks, too young to realize what they're missing. They like the, what was her name, Rarity's of the world. Pretty as a flower, maybe, but flowers wilt. A strong sapling like you, though, is a flower in its own way, and it'll grow with them. But bucks don't care about growing or wilting, they only care about the moment, about what is right now. Well, their loss; they thought you beneath their notice," she nodded at Wallflower. "and now you've soared above it."

Wallflower shrugged, her face mercifully cooled down somewhat, and continued drinking.

"If they could see you now," Stumper chuckled. "Even that Rarity doe would have to say you're the fairest."

Wallflower hesitated, then put down the half-empty bowl. Using the language of gestures they'd worked out, she asked Stumper if she knew how her friends outside of Everfree were doing.

Stumper sighed and shook her head. "I only know most of them because of their presence during Gloriosa's madness, though Sunset Shimmer has featured in several of Gaea's more recent orders. Greatness lies within that girl, though whether it's great good or great evil remains to be seen. I have no recent news of them, no, though I could see about asking Timber."

Wallflower nodded, accepting that that was the best she would get, then began drinking again.

And Stumper began speaking again, saying, "That Fluttershy doe was quite nice; almost as fair as that Rarity one, and almost as kind to the green things as you. She preferred the blooded living things, though. Shame. We could've used her help. But you'll do fine," she reassured her. "One redwood isn't a forest, but it's still impressive." She sighed happily. "I remember the redwoods of Borea Horseht, the Frostwoods of the west. I had relatives out there, and every twelve moons my family and I would go visit them. Few trees could compare to the ones I saw, few even in Everfree: they were too large for me to wrap my arms around and too tall for me to see the top of, their needles were longer than my finger and hung on branches thicker than my arm. They were... they were beyond my poor attempts to describe them, grand and great and-and marvelous, a wonder of the world." Then, to Wallflower's surprise, she began to sing:

Oh, Viovelchoriz, Yorelt, oh Obborarlim!
Oh redwoods tall, I saw you all upon midwinter's day!
Oh Star-Chaser, I saw you sure and strong upon the bay!
Oh Bloodycoat, my eyes you smote with your red beauty rare!
Oh Roundedroot, your gnarled shoots turned green the frosted air!
Your trunks so strong, your limbs so long, they filled the winter world,
While thoughtless time touched not your lives though all its might there hurled!

But then sadness crept into her voice:

Oh redwoods gone, my walking's done, I'll see you now no more;
My fate is sealed, my life I yield to striving in the war.
Oh, Viovelchoriz, Yorelt, oh Obborarlim!

Green tears dripped from her eyes, tears which she quickly wiped away with a cough. "Pardon me," she cleared her throat. "I must miss there more than I knew. It has been... a long time since I last saw them."

Wallflower raised a brow in curiosity; how long was a long time?

Stumper sighed. "Thirty-four I am, yes, but not in years; thirty-four hundreds of seasons have I seen since Gaea gave me her gift. When last I walked in the Frostwoods, I saw Vanhoover as a village, a small fishing town along the cold sea. The shining knights of the great Empire of the North protected it, and riders from the western mountains came to trade. But now Willow tells me that the Empire has faded away, Vanhoover has become a city, and there are no more shining knights. Only the mountains and the Frostwood have survived, and for all I know the forest may have fallen."

Wallflower's eyes, which had bulged at the news of Stumper's true age, softened as she continued. Stumper wasn't a mythical figure come to life, or something like Gaea; she was a long-lived woman, wondering whether the old trees she'd loved still stood. She'd loved and hated, laughed and cried, lived her life just as Wallflower had before the wolf found her.

That thought made her frown, though, reminding her of her doubts about Stumper. Though she didn't think that she was just a puppet of Gaea's anymore (Wallflower sincerely doubted that song was an act), that still left the option of Gaea casting her sight into her wood-skinned servant, something Wallflower wasn't sure that she couldn't do, even though it was beyond her own skill at the moment. She trusted that Stumper was Stumper now, but that sadly didn't mean she could trust Stumper as her source. She felt that she could trust her as her friend, though, and tried to prove herself Stumper's friend by patting her on the shoulder in consolation.

Stumper flashed her a look of gratitude, then gently brushed her hand off. "Hoom, but I didn't come here to burden you with an old doe's frets," she chuckled. "I guess they're a larger part of me than I thought. That's what I came here for, you know," she softly smiled, barely visible in the shadows of her helm. "I know I scared you in training today, Wallflower, made you wonder if I was really the Green-Warden you thought you knew. I hoped that talking might show you that I was, but I didn't mean to-"

She was stopped by Wallflower putting down her empty bowl, pointing at her, then spelling something with her hands, something that caused the Green-Warden's jaw to drop;

'S-T-U-M-P-E-R.'

After running through the spelling a few times, making sure she got the message across, Wallflower pointed at Stumper again and used her hands to remind her of something she'd said to her early on;

'You can call me Stumper like my friend does.'

Green tears appeared under the wooden helm again, but this time they were blessed. "Thank you, doe," she choked. "This-you don't know how much this means to me."

Wallflower smiled back at her, then stretched out her arms, a gesture Stumper had but recently learned. And mastered, she thought as the Green-Warden embraced her; for someone with so hard a hide, Stumper gave surprisingly good hugs.

New Territory

Stumper took the empty bowl and left her to rest, something she had no intention of doing. She might have been sure that Stumper was her friend now, but that still left too many questions: was Gaea able to cast her sight through her? Why hadn't she mentioned it earlier? Was Wallflower going to be the same? Just how much was Gaea hiding?

She took a deep breath as she rolled over onto her stomach; she needed answers more than rest now. Exhaling as she closed her eyes and cast her sight into the aether, she prepared to find them.

Vine, vine, grass, grass, fern, moss, fern, moss, flower, tree...

Neither Stumper nor Gaea had given her a name for this place, the realm where she chose where to cast her senses; a few names had come to her mind, but eventually she settled on thinking of it as "the aether." It felt like a sea of darkness, islands of intelligence occasionally breaching the dim surface. When Stumper had first given her her markings, she'd almost completely lacked control, throwing herself into the minds of the forest's flora without understanding or restraint. She shivered at the memory of the horrors that lack of control had shown her, the horrible piping still dimly audible to her ears.

Fortunately, her control had greatly improved, as had her understanding of the aether; she was able to tell what mind each island belonged to, and enter or pass them by as she wished. It was somewhat slow, but better that than the uncontrollable speed of that first day.

She entered the tree's mind, and looked deep into the rings of its memory, searching for... What was she looking for? Would the tree have even been around when Stumper accepted Everfree's 'gift?' Would it know anything about Gaea's plans?

She withdrew back into the aether, her influence fading from the tree like a flitting thought. Her mind scowled; where could she find the answers she needed? What would know anything about what Gaea was doing? She strained in thought...

...and unwittingly hurled herself into the memory of another mind, this one a fern's.

Well, mind wasn't the right word. "Intelligence," "brain," "perspective," those were more accurate: plants weren't sapient, but there was an intelligence in them, as fascinating in its own way as her own. It seemed more physical, more concerned with chemicals and stimuli than thoughts, emotions, and concepts, and stored in a more literal way than memories. The rings of trees were their memories, as much as the ribbons of light the Stone had stolen were.

She winced at the reminder of what she'd done, and quickly felt the consequences of her distraction; she was flung out of the fern's mind (inaccurate though it was, she had trouble thinking of it as anything else) and into another one, this one unfamiliar. It felt like a tree's, but it didn't feel like one of Everfree's, lacking the energy and almost pride of its timbers. The air felt cooler, too, and drier. She strained to open eyes her host lacked, trying to find where she was.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Thankfully, while sight may have been cut off for her, plants could still hear, in a fashion, allowing her to detect what sounded like metal on a rock beneath her branches. She could feel someone leaning against her trunk, too, though lightly, and her leaves drank in the scent of faint perfume, dirt, and salt.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

"Who are you?" she whispered, or at least tried to; her host turned it into meaningless leaf-shaking, like a stray breeze would produce. Whoever was resting against her paid it no mind.

Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Where was this? Wallflower strained in search, and her roots told her what they could find; largely silt and clay, some stones, tombs of dead grass. They didn't find any other roots, though; she seemed to be alone, at least in terms of trees: grass seemed plentiful nearby.

There was a rustling, another person brushing through that grass into the hollow where she stood. "They're coming up the road," a strangely familiar voice croaked. "They'll be here in five minutes."

The scraper ceased their work, standing up. "The road may pass," she growled. "but not all of them will. If they want to get home, they'll need to work for it, and pay."

She sensed the two beneath her beginning to walk away, one's gait barely touching the ground, the other marching with a heavy tread. She tried to follow them, maybe even find out where they were going before they arrived. She flew through the minds of grass, of ferns, of thorns, of-

PAIN, pain pain pain, black clouds of pain dotted her ethereal eyes as she was thrown back. She'd reached a long dead-zone, quite possibly the road they'd mentioned, but before she could find a suitable host pain had assailed her, an iron spike driving into her skull and dragging her away. The pain was hiding something, she could sense it, but she had no idea what it was screening.

She had no idea where her voyage of agony had taken her, either, the pain preventing her from controlling where she went as she was sent flying through the aether like an arrow. Shaking off the last of the pain, she looked around; unfamiliar minds raced past her as she hurtled into the unknown, gradually growing more and more infrequent as she sailed. By the time she managed to bring herself to a halt, there was only one in sight. It seemed tree-like, yet not at the same time, and it felt simply ancient, far older than most of the minds she'd encountered.

Her eyes widened as a familiar sensation passed through her, one that she'd only felt a handful of times; the rosy, woody, hard mental 'scent' of Gaea. It was faint, clearly she hadn't passed this way for a while, but the aether remembered, almost as well as the trees did. Eagerly, she reached out to the mind...

...and found herself staring down at a round, grey stump inside a small cave.

She tried to crane her neck, and found, to her surprise, that she could; the previous times she'd managed to enter one of what Stumper called 'the faces,' they'd been fixed, wood-and-mold masks which she could see, hear, and speak through but not move.

There wasn't much this unusual freedom allowed her to see, though; softly glowing blue fungi laced up the cave-walls behind her, and she could see light from an entrance a few meters ahead of her, but she couldn't see anything else other than the cave, the stump, and the small sapling supporting her head. She couldn't feel it, strangely, nor any roots spreading out from it; it felt lifeless, like a prosthetic.

Voices, agitated ones, began to approach the cave mouth, speaking rapidly in a flowing, unknown language. She strained her ears, grasping for any sounds she could recognize. There were none aside from the approaching soft footsteps, though; whatever language they were speaking wasn't simply unknown to her, it was totally alien to any she knew.

When the first of the speakers stepped inside, she could see why; a slate-skinned, fur-shrouded deep-laird glared at her, others following him and matching his angry expression. Daggers were in many hands, and bows and arrows in a few, all pointed threateningly at her.

"Don't even think of flying," the first speaker ordered in the Common Tongue before she could even attempt to escape from the clearly hostile situation. "The wards which let us know of your coming will keep you here, until I should choose to release you. We have you like a rabbit in a snare, Gaea."

"I'm afraid there's a bit of a misunderstanding," Wallflower nervously laughed, flicking glances at the weaponry surrounding her. "You see, I'm not actually Gaea Everfree, I'm, uh..." She hesitated, debating whether she should tell them her real name. The drawing back of a bowstring made her decision, and she blurted out, "Wallflower Blush, I'm Wallflower Blush. My lords and ladies," she added, remembering what Stumper had told her. "My lords and ladies, pardon me."

The first speaker frowned, then said some soft words to one of their companions. They stepped forward and stared intently at Wallflower before turning back to the speaker and nodding.

"The lord Mavyr tells me that you speak the truth," the speaker said, nodding back. "as do the wards which you activated: less noticeable were you, so unlike the braggart Gaea, Oiorava as you called her. That presence we know, and we know that it is not here. But that does not tell us who you are, Wallflower Blush, or why you came here. You are not our chief enemy, but that does not mean you are not an enemy at all. Speak!"

She bit her wooden lip, then asked, "Might I know who I'm speaking to, first, my lord?"

"This is no mere lord you stand before," one of the archers replied. "He is Tein, King of the Deep-Elves, wearer of the Onyx Circlet, lord of Minas Drow, Celeblona, and Felyamirea, First Ranger and Captain of Nilftria."

"Call me only King Tein when you speak, though," Tein said. "I wish for speed more than lengthy courtesies."

She swallowed a gulp of air down her non-existent throat, then said, "Well, like I said, your majesty, my name's Wallflower Blush. I'm, uh, a Man, a young woman, a student at Canterlot High School. At least," she frowned. "I was. I'm... not sure if I'll be able to head back there."

"Why not?" Tein asked sharply.

"I," she hesitantly replied. "have something I need to do, a duty I need to fulfill. I don't know when I'll manage to do so, or even if I'll be able to."

"What duty is that?" Tein asked.

"Helping protect my home," she answered. "Keeping it safe from the..." She swallowed, then murmured, "...the Windigos."

Unexpectedly for reported allies, the deep-elves hissed at that name, some covering their ears, some glaring at her as if she'd just sworn, some murmuring soft prayers. Tein gestured for silence, and when he received it he turned back to Wallflower with a surprisingly soft expression on his face. "Your duty does you credit," he said gently. "The defense of one's home is a great burden indeed, especially against the foe you named. Beware; the hammer-stroke is soon to fall, and all the realms of Men be besieged. I cannot tell you where the heaviest blow will fall, for to me it appears that every blow will be heavy; the Luxolie and the heirs of tyranny in the horselands, the Airelie and the tempted across the sea, the Ungocalar in the north..." He shook his head sadly. "All your land shall soon become islands surrounded by seas of foes, and either fall beneath the waves or endure for a little while."

"Why are you telling me all this?" she asked, voice shaking. "I thought you were allied with the-with the Windigos."

"Slander," one of the deep-elves spat.

"Inaccuracy," Tein corrected. "We are working towards a common goal with them, yes, the destruction of a shared foe, but we are not their allies. We know that they will not have them, only slaves or masters in those who are strong enough to enslave them in turn. Those who think otherwise are either deluded or misled." He scoffed. "They promise otherwise, of course, but we know their nature; scheming and treacherous, seasoned with malice, not a word they speak can be trusted. And so, our word to them is treacherous; any loyalty to them is either temporary, coincidental, or feigned. The traitor shall not receive the trust they have proven willing to break. Once the treacherous Gaea falls, so will our alliance, and the traitors shall be the ones to discover that they have been betrayed."

"So," Wallflower frowned. "you're using them and then stabbing them in the back."

"As they doubtless would to us," Tein nodded.

"How can you work with anyone, anything, like that?" she asked in dismay. "How do you know they won't stab you in the back first?"

"Need drives us to do deeds we would have never imagined without it," Tein replied with a frown. "I loathe the coldshades as much as you do, but I loathe Gaea and the threat she poses to my people more. As for how I know they won't betray us first, that is one of the reasons I have tried to work as closely as I have with them; I learn their plans, allowing me not just to foresee their treachery earlier but to plan my own so as to make it deadlier." Face softening again, he said, "Stand firm; as soon as we have dealt with Gaea and her minions, we shall come to Homestria's aid. The hammer-stroke shall find one of its own architects working against it, as soon as the tyrant falls."

"Why not stop the Windigos first?" she pleaded. "I mean, however bad you think Gaea might be, she's not as bad as they are, right?"

Tein hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "She might be the lesser threat," he admitted. "but our strength will be greatly lessened by driving the coldshades and their allies out, perhaps too much to deal with her. If Nilftria is to be secured, we must defeat Gaea first, else we may never be able to do so."

"Do you need to?" she asked. "I know she rejected you in the past, but is that enough to justify trying to hurt her like this? I know it's hypocritical for me to say this," she cast her gaze at the ground, remembering her refusal to see Sunset's reformation. "but maybe you should try just putting it behind you."

Tein snarled. "You say that we should simply forgive Gaea for calling us inferior?"

Wallflower's eyes widened. "What?" she whispered.

"In years past, our lord King Obyrn, may he sleep in starlight," Tein bowed his head in respect for the dead. "desired to draw our realm and her's closer together. He sent envoys and tribute to her court and the court of our high rivals, proposing alliance, and went himself with the twelve greatest lairds of the realm to offer the capstone of the alliance to Gaea; his hand in marriage. Wearing softest bat-felt and spidersilk and bearing fine gifts he came to her, in the midst of her court and her allies among our high cousins. He explained his plan, proposed to her with a ring of fine ivory and onyx, and do you know what her reply was?"

Fascinated, entranced by the emotion with which Tein spoke, Wallflower could only shake her head, silently willing him to go on.

"She spoke, words which have been seared into our minds ever since, the words which betrayed the malice in her heart," Tein said. "'I will wed none so much lesser than I.'"

She gasped like she'd been sucker-punched.

"Would you still have us bury those words?" Tein asked sharply. "Would you have us simply forget the humiliation she inflicted on us? Would you have us forgive her who denied our worth so?"

"Why?" she croaked to herself in shock. "Why would she say that? And why didn't she tell me she did?" Gasping, she covered her mouth.

Too late; the keen ears of the elves had picked up and understood her words, and now their weapons were a breath away from her face, and almost glowing with the cold fire of hate. Tein waved them back, but the cold fire that glinted on the withdrawn weapons found a match in his eyes.

"So that is how you came here," he muttered. "Acolyte of the Lady of Malice, walker in her ways. Speak!" he ordered. "Why did you come here? What secrets have you tried to steal?"

"None, your majesty," she stammered in reply. "I didn't mean to come here, honest! I-I didn't even know where here was when I arrived!"

"How could you not?" Tein retorted. "Do telecontolor like yourself wander heedlessly nowadays, not caring where their arts take them? Or did you lose your way, or forget the way home?"

"I was trying to see something back in Homestria," she replied frantically. "Before I could choose something to watch from, though, I felt pain, terrible pain, like-like an iron nail being driven through my brain. I ran away, I had to, and by the time I managed to stop I found myself here."

A murmur went through the elves at that. Tein looked troubled. "A scrying-shield?" he murmured. "And one so strong? But who would raise it, and why..." He looked at her again, his gaze almost a glare. "Where were you when this happened?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "I was trying to find something that could tell me about Gaea, and Stumper, but I lost control. I was in a tree, a solitary tree, a little bit before it happened, if that helps."

"Why were you seeking news of Gaea?" Tein asked, furrowing his brow. "And who is this 'Stumper?'"

Wallflower bit her tongue, but too late. The arrows, still pointing at her, drew back further, clearly preparing to fly. Sighing, she continued digging the hole she'd made deeper, saying, "Stumper's a friend of mine, a woman like me, but older." She winced. "A lot older."

"Is she also a servant of Gaea's?" Tein asked.

"I," Wallflower stuttered. "I'd prefer not to say."

"I'd prefer you would say," Tein replied. "And my arrows agree with me."

Wallflower bit her lip; if she talked, something might happen to Stumper. If she didn't, though, something would happen to her. She didn't know what happened to a caster if their host died or was destroyed while they were casting in it, but she doubted it would be good. But was her life worth Stumper's?

Tein's face softened. "You've already said enough for me to guess," he whispered to her.

Sighing, she broke, saying, "Yes, Stumper is another servant of Gaea's. She's nice, though," she tried to reassure her audience. "She might look like she's made of wood, but her heart's made of gold."

Another wave of murmuring swept through the elves, though this one was quickly quieted by a stern word from Tein. He turned back to Wallflower, his face grave. "We have received word of her," he said. "Some of our scouts have not returned from their missions to Gaea's dwelling, and others who have bear word of a dread captain of the wood, lurking like a great wooden shadow waiting to ambush them. She is Gaea's strong right hand, the enforcer of her tyranny."

"She's not a bully," Wallflower protested. "She's just trying to do what Gaea tells her."

"The soldier is as responsible to their conscience as their commander," Tein retorted.

"And her's is probably telling her to try to protect her home and her friends," she said. "To her, your scouts might look like the lead-up to an attack, an invasion. She might not know why you're trying to do this; she's old, but she's not old enough to remember when you were around, and if Gaea didn't tell me what she said to Obyrn, she might not have told Stumper, either."

Tein's brow furrowed. "You say she's not old enough to remember when we still walked in Gaea's realm," he said. "but that should be expected; no Man is, not even the oldest of our elders is. Why is that so noteworthy for her?"

"She," Wallflower fumbled. "she's really old, somehow. Hundreds of years old. I-I don't know exactly how she's still alive, but my guess is it's something to do with Gaea." She furrowed her brow. "Maybe something to do with why she's made of wood now..."

"That does sound like Gaea's corrupting influence," Tein said. "Perhaps Gaea has given her her favour and bound her life to her's, and her malice has been poisoning the woman ever since. King Obyrn of memory did similarly with Robin, though his influence was far more benevolent."

"Wait a minute," Wallflower's eyes widened. "You said that what happened to Stumper might be because Gaea gave her her favour?"

"It is possible," Tein frowned. "Why does that strike such fear into you?"

Wallflower swallowed, though this time the gulp refused to go down, and not because of the current immateriality of her throat. "Because she gave it to me, too," she croaked.

Several of the elves recoiled, while Tein's gaze turned laser-like for a moment, piercing her and scanning her up and down. Eventually, though, his gaze softened again, and he turned back to the others and whispered soothing words to them. Though clearly hesitant, they relaxed somewhat, weapons lowering along with their voices.

"Grave is this news," Tein said. "Gaea has swindled herself an ally, it seems. By granting you her favour she has bound your life to her's, forcing you to choose between two evils; either to fight us and endure countless years as Gaea's servant, or die with her beneath our swords. For so long as she lives you will, but if she were to die..." He shook his head. "This is not your fight, and yet she would force it to be your's. How great is her malice!"

Wallflower's ethereal heart fell into her non-existent stomach. Gaea hadn't told her any of this. Why? Why hadn't she told Wallflower what she was getting into? Why hadn't she let her make an informed decision? Had Stumper been tricked like that, too? Was anything Gaea had told her true?

"Now, sadly, you see why we seek to wage war against her," Tein said. "She cares not for the world outside her realm except insofar as she can exploit it. She will be our doom in the coming days; all lands must stand together against the coldshades, or fall alone. Gaea must fall, or she shall drag us into the pit with her. And yet this news of you and Stumper, as you called her, grieve me; Gaea must fall, but in doing so she will force you to fall with her. Spirit of malice!" he snarled. "Would that she'd been banished with the coldshades she so hypocritically hates!" He sighed, then looked pitifully at her. "Grave is the evil she has done to you, Wallflower Blush, and greater still is the evil she is forcing us to do; in order to topple a tyrant, we must kill the innocent. And yet do so we must, lest more innocents be killed by that tyrant. But know that we will not do so gladly, nor out of hatred towards you. And I will not allow you to die unloved, the poor pawn of the tyrant Gaea." Stretching out his hand and murmuring soft syllables, he traced a symbol on Wallflower's hosted head, then said, "Go, with what blessings I can give you. You have told me enough, Wallflower Blush; I give you my leave to depart. And prepare! For the storm comes, and your kin must ready to meet it. Go, and bear word to them of what I've told you. Help them ready or fight as you see fit, and be at peace when Death unjustly comes to claim you."

Wallflower, stricken dumb by the horror and courtesies Tein said, feebly stretched out an ethereal hand to him as the wards holding her in place fell away and she was swept out by an invisible tide.

Author's Note

Edited the ending to avoid an abrupt chapter break.

Withering

Author's Note

Edited the ending of the previous chapter to avoid an abrupt chapter break. Go back and read that if you haven't already to avoid confusion.

Withering

An invisible tide which turned out to be Stumper, shaking her awake.

"Come on, doe," she grunted. "You've had your rest. Now we need to-"

She was cut off by Wallflower grabbing her hand and pressing it to her tear-streaked cheek, staring at her in distress and making soundless shapes of grief with her mouth.

"Doe?" Stumper asked. "Wallflower, what's wrong?"

She could do no more than mutely weep in reply; Everfree had stolen her voice, and now it looked like her life.

"Hold on," Stumper tried to soothe her. "Start dreaming, we can talk there. It sounds like you could use it."

Wallflower nodded, then cast herself back on the ground, frantically crawling into the aether...

Her sobs rent the ethereal plane, cries of anguish and grief tearing through the mental realm.

"Sh," Stumper tried to comfort her, eyes dimming in shared pain. "Sh, sh sh sh sh. It's alright, Wallflower, it's alright, I'm right here. I'm here for you, Wallflower, I'm right here."

Eventually, her friend's gentle embrace and soft words managed to help her tears coagulate, until her sobs turned to clots of mucus. Her emotional wound staunched for the moment, Stumper released her and asked, "Now, can you tell me what made you so upset? Did you have a nightmare?"

"N," she sniffled. "no. I-I didn't sleep, actually; I-I used it as a chance to test my casting."

Stumper sighed, shaking her head. "Too much training is just as bad as too little, doe. Anyway, so you were practicing your casting, what upset you so? First host-death?"

"I got lost," she sobbed. "I was trying to find a road someone mentioned, but then something started hurting me, forcing me away, and by the time I managed to stop I didn't know where I was. There," she sniffed. "there was a host there, though, one that it felt like-like Gaea had used a while ago. I-I used it, but-but it was a trap, or something."

"A trap?" Stumper asked. "Set by who?"

"The deep-lairds," Wallflower cried.

Stumper's eyes widened, glowing like two miniature Suns. She scrutinized Wallflower closely, then sighed. "It's true," she murmured. "There is a touch of elvish about you, now. They left their scent on you, doe. Not a bad one, though; seems almost-"

"'I will marry none so much lesser than I,'" Wallflower whispered, causing a hush to descend over the aether. "They told me, Stumper, told me why they were so angry at Gaea. And," she swallowed. "they told me about you, about why you've lived so long. About how I," she looked down at herself. "might live that long, too."

Stumper frowned at her. "You didn't know? I thought Gaea would've told you."

"She doesn't tell me a lot, it seems," Wallflower spat. "I learned more from talking with the Nilfin than I have from her. Your condition, my lifespan, what she said to Obyrn that started this all; what else is she keeping secret from me, Stumper? What else isn't she telling me?"

"Nothing that she thinks will hurt your performance," Stumper reassured her. "She wouldn't hide anything that would stop you from doing your duty, doe, don't worry."

"I'm more than my duty," she snapped back. "I'm more than-than a tool Gaea can throw in the shed whenever she doesn't need it. And-and some of the stuff she hasn't told me has hurt my performance, even-even if she might not have thought it would. If I hadn't been so caught off-guard by what Tein told me, I might've been able to learn more useful stuff, like-like when the Nilfin are actually planning to attack or-or whatever the Ungocalar is. If Gaea had actually told me about those things, or if you had-"

Stumper shifted a bit at that, causing Wallflower to sigh. "Except she ordered you not to, didn't she?" she asked rhetorically. "Didn't want you to 'distract' or 'confuse' me or whatever excuse she came up with."

"I thought you didn't need to know," Stumper murmured. "You're more than your duty, yes, but not right now; the Windigos are coming, and the deep-lairds are going to help them. There is no time for distraction now; either we stand or the world falls, and we cannot afford to waver. I... I didn't think you needed to know some of what the Nilfin told you, and what I did I thought Gaea would tell you." She looked down at her heavy, wooden feet. "I was only trying to help."

Wallflower stared back at her, jaw agape. Stumper, the woman she'd so recently thought of as her friend, had stabbed her in the back, keeping secrets from her, forcing her to make a decision she couldn't take back without all the facts. Tein, the leader of the people who were planning to, indirectly, kill her was more trustworthy than the woman she'd called a friend.

"I'll talk to Gaea about this," Stumper offered. "let her know how upset this made you. I'm sure once she knows about this, she'll-"

"I need some air," Wallflower blurted out, her phantasmal breath coming in short gasps. Before Stumper could stop her, she rushed away in a stream of tears, throwing herself heedlessly into the aether. She didn't know where she was casting herself, and she didn't particularly care; all she cared about was that she needed air, to get away from her betrayer, from the thing that had deceived her, from the liars who'd stolen away her voice and her life.

The Everfree River ran through the forest, divided into three branches; Dyma and Dymo flowed from hidden pools and streams in the north down into the Everfree Lake basin, pooling together and then heading south united. Near the edge of the forest, at the Frayed Ford, they joined with the last of their number, Megalos, then rolled away east to eventually join with the Neighagra and flow into the Sea.

The River and its branches were the heart of the forest; fueled by snowmelt, rain, and stray runoff from the Canter, the thunder of the water was the Everfree's pulse, pumping lifeblood through the veins of the various streams and pools that lurked under the branches. Without their rushing bounty, Gaea's kingdom would have been barren, not even her power being able to sustain the magnificence of the Everfree unaided. If she was the queen of the forest, then the River was its king.

Beside the broad Megalos one of the River's subjects, a thin willow, dwelt in a patch of sunlight, its leaves tasting the foam as the river rolled along. Every so often, one of them was swept away, sailing south in the crashing foam. Long- and light-limbed, Men called it a weeping willow, for its loose sheaves reminded them of tears.

Its name was even more fitting now, as Wallflower cast herself inside of it and wailed to the sky.