Dark Blueby AFanaticRabbitChaptersOneTwoThreeFourFiveOnePonies always tell me to be careful of the caves just outside Ponyville, and with good reason. Not that it ever stops me. They are dark and treacherous, with winding, twisting paths and sudden drops. According to my friend Twilight, old rivers and streams used to flow through the caves, having carved out the routes I walk today. Sometimes I swear I can hear the flow of water somewhere deeper in the rock. Then there are the native creatures who nest here; insects and spiders and bats and whatever else I dare not imagine. They all make me uncomfortable, and while I have an image to uphold, I am not so stuck up I can’t admit I might come running out of the caves once in a while. Yet I always return. While I’m driven back by my need for precious stones, I could always purchase those in the long term even if it would bite into my overhead. Instead I enjoy the act of spelunking in and of itself. I swear if my calling wasn’t in fashion, it would be in exploring dark, damp, wet caves for all their secrets. This very day isn’t much different. Spurred on by a lack of sapphires and rubies I needed for some new project Rainbow Dash of all ponies commissioned, I find myself drawn in deep, deep into the caves by my dowsing spell. I had already located a few gems, which were now weighing down my saddlebag, but they weren’t enough. A lantern hangs from my neck, illuminating the way ahead of me, while I focus on the spell illuminating the gems hidden in the walls. It takes some searching but I manage to find the beginnings of another seam and I giggle in glee. I follow the tendril, looking for the largest concentration, but after a few more steps one of my hooves doesn’t connect with the floor when I expect it too. I lurch forward then manage to catch myself, before gazing down at the drop below. It’s sharp, almost doubling back on itself, and a few ledges and outcroppings make me thankful my reflexes saved me. I suppose keeping a better eye on where I was walking would be better. No matter. Looking up, I follow the seam once more, and to my delight the biggest concentration is just nearby. Also to my frustration, it is also almost overhanging the drop down below. I hadn’t brought the tools to collect something like this, and while I could try and break apart the wall around it, extracting the gems, I couldn’t do so carefully enough, and I certainly don’t trust myself not to try to lean forward and fall. With a sigh I turn around. I’ll have to remember this seam, come back with some tools to hold myself up and catch myself if I were to fall. Maybe I could bring Spike along— Hooves beat rapidly against rock. I stop in my tracks, tilting my head and turning my ears down the tunnel. Somepony is running my way. “Hello?” I call out, and for a moment the galloping becomes crystal clear. A moment later, a cloaked pony tackles me and we both fall. Down into the pit. TwoDrip. Drip. Drip. Everything aches. My back and shoulders and head and legs all ache. I try to move, but I just feel so heavy. Drip. Drip. Something falls onto my face. Something wet and warm, splashing off my forehead and teasing my lashes. I’m able to finally lift one of my legs and wave it in front of me, briefly stopping the drops. Drip. In all of my shuffling, my sluggish attempts to open my lids, one drop splashes directly onto my eye spurs all my limbs into motion. Rolling onto my front with a hiss I hold a hoof over the eye and blink away rapidly. The stinging clears up in a few moments, though an element of soreness remains. I remain there, blinking away, and I realise I cannot see my own hooves in front of me. Confused, I continue blinking, trying to recall past events, and remember being in the caves. I remember the pit, and the sapphire in the walls, and then the pony tackling me. Ah. Right. I have some choice words for that pony. I cast a light spell and illuminate my immediate surroundings. It isn’t as bright or as warm as a lantern, leaving much of the world around me in blue-tinted monochrome. Even so, I make out the shattered remains of my lamp ahead of me. I’m lucky I had not landed on it, or the glass shards on the ground. I take a glance around, examining my surroundings. My saddlebag is still on my back, empty save for a few gemstones and some light supplies. There is no sign of my assailant, however, and I let out a high pitched harumph. “How very rude,” I say to nopony in particular, though I hope that they are still around. I slowly rise to my hooves. “I was merely minding my own business and then was so sorely interrupt—” I cry out and fall onto my front again as I settle one of my back legs to the floor. None of the weight connects, I feel something slide that shouldn’t, and the pain that strikes me saps all my strength, leaving me shaking on the floor. Leaving the small part of my mind amazed that I kept the hornlight cast, I rolled onto my back. With tears in my eyes, and the right still considerably blurry, I gingerly pull a terrifically broken leg into view. There is a nasty gash down the side, and the bone below the knee is worryingly short. Swallowing down my anxiety, I can see why when some of the bone prods at my skin from beneath. I let go of my leg and try to relax myself as nausea floods my gut. A hot flash fills me, quickly making me sweat, while my mind proceeds to race and my breath escapes me. A prelude to panic. One I can ill afford. Swallowing again, I drag my thoughts into order, thinking about grounding myself— Drip. Something dark and wet and warm strikes my forehead. I finally process from where. A cloaked figure. A pale horn with dark liquid running its length. Dulled eyes staring me down. All hanging from a single rocky outcrop, piercing their chest. My light winks out. I roll to my side, and while my body tries to vomit, all I am able to do is dry heave and dribble bile down my lips. I am used to dealing with panic. It is not a feeling I experience often, and sometimes without logical cause, but it never feels quite so bad knowing I am in the comfort of my home or surrounded by friends. Without both, the feeling is unbearable, coming out in shaking limbs and rapid, shallow breaths. Without sight or the wherewithal to try I cannot ground myself. I remain in that rotten state for what feels like an eternity. Quivering, panting, sweating and sobbing. The adrenaline in me forces my mind to race through previous events, remembering my search, remembering the attack, remembering the corpse above me. It makes me feel sick again, but my body knows I have nothing more to give. I wish I had a blanket to cower under. Drip. The dull, wet thud of blood hitting the cave floor breaks through my panic. I wish it didn’t, knowing what the source of that noise is. Drip. But I cannot ignore it. It is all the sound I have other than my breaths and whimpers. So I focus. Drip. It’s regular, I think. I open my mouth, take in a shaky breath and start counting. “O-one-little-pony, two-little-ponies, three-little-ponies—” Drip. “One-little-pony, two-little-ponies, three-little-ponies, four—” Drip. “One-little-pony, two-little-ponies, three-little-ponies, four…” Drip. I keep counting in my head, noting that the space between the drops grows, gaining a fraction of a beat each time. Despite the irony of it, that focus slows my breathing, calms my mind. Sweet Celestia I still feel like a wire about to snap, but my body is back under my control. First thing is first; I need to address the broken leg. I know I can’t walk on it in its current state, but that is no reason to leave it unattended, so with my horn now relit—albeit far dimmer, so the light doesn’t reveal what is above me—I start my work. Using the water I intended for drinking, I rinse off my leg. The wound continues to bleed, but the runoff is mostly clear once the bottle is half empty. I wrap the wound in a bandage, then run it up and down my leg, then to keep the bones still I place a chisel inside of the wrapping and secure that in place too. It’s shoddy. It won’t hold forever. It will hold for the few hours it needs to. I roll over, rise to my hooves again, this time taking care to not put pressure onto the injured leg, and I hobble along, working deeper into the cave, lighting my way by dull blue hornlight. The walk is slow and miserable with my own thoughts for company, and it ends up turning into a long, downward slog that meanders for goodness how long. I can’t shake the image of the pony from my mind, distracting me enough to trip over the odd bump in the ground. Fortunately the puzzles of how to climb down some of the bigger drops keeps my mind occupied. It’s as I come down one more ledge and round another bend that I hear the faintest sound of rushing water. The air is cooler, despite how deep down I am, and each step forward brings me closer to the noise until finally I step into a cavern so large my horn isn’t able to light it all. I can make out water falling into a pool ahead of me, the spray giving the air around a refreshing feel that wets my fur pleasantly. The surface of the pool, rippling as it is, reflects the light from my horn like a twinkling night sky. Despite my situation, I decide to sit down by the water’s edge. A dull headache throbs somewhere deep in my skull from exhaustion and what I hope isn’t an injury. Looming over the pond I examine my head, and to my relief I am at the worst merely grubby, save for the splotch of dried blood dead center on my forehead. If being near the water was refreshing, then splashing it on my face can only be best described as divine. With every hoofful I throw onto my face I rub at my cheeks and forehead, tidying myself up. It dribbles into my mane, making my perm sag somewhat, and other trickles run down my neck and onto my chest and shoulders where it makes the fur around it stand on end though even that feels good, but to my annoyance my right eye remains blurry despite washing the blood from it. Then I simply just sit there, too exhausted to carry myself further. I know I need to continue on, but my body and mind demand I rest, so I do for minutes. My mind wanders, distracted by the wavy night sky in the water, and I think of my friends again. I laugh at the idea of them worrying over me, and getting a flurry of ‘I told you so’s from all of them. I wonder if the dead pony has any friends. I couldn’t even describe them to anypony, other than confirming they were a unicorn with a light coat. Maybe that’s something for somepony else to sort out if they follow in my hoofsteps. Another little wave of nausea washes over me, but it’s mild. Despite my somber feelings, I rise once more to my hooves with a grunt, and check for other exits. There has to be one somewhere for the water to run off to, but it isn’t visible from where I stand. Walking along the water’s edge, I try to spot if there is some underwater passage, but my hornlight is simply scattered off the surface and makes it impossible to tell. What does catch my eye is the glimpse of a space behind the waterfall, though with no clear gaps either side of it I can’t be certain of what I see without getting wet. I tense up, preparing myself for the cold shock while walking the wet, slippery edge of the pool. My perm is entirely ruined at this stage, sticking to my head and shoulder. Alas, there is little I can do for it now, but at least its sacrifice to my curiosity paid off. My hooves fall onto wood instead of rock and the water flowers beneath. The walls are smoothed and squared off at the top, and they are even bracketed here and there by more wooden archways to support the weight of the rock and earth above. With another sigh of relief, I dip my head and continue walking along the carved out corridor. There are a few doors on the right side of the cavern, lifted up a few steps to presumably keep them from flooding. Most of them are rotten down, allowing me to peer inside to empty beds and shelves. The end of the corridor turns gently, with a right hand turn to one last room, of which a warm, orange light shines out. A light means warmth. Probably fire, maybe magic, but definitely somepony, or somecreature at least. Awkwardly I pick up my pace, but a few steps in something darts out of the door. Another pony in a cloak, their face obscured by shadows and my weakening hornlight. They look my way for all of half a heartbeat before they bolt off in the other direction, deeper into the corridor. “Wait!” I shout. “I just need some help, some way out…” I fall quiet, deciding it isn’t any use to shout after the retreating sound of galloping. The noise disappears into the depths, while I make my way into the lit room. It really isn’t any different from the other rooms behind me, with a wooden bench along one wall, wide enough to lay on, and a table and chairs and shelves along the other. The light is cast by a touch slotted into a sconce near the exit, above the table. Knowing that this space is lived in, I make the decision to wait. Surely the occupant will return and I can explain myself then, and surely they will understand my plight and help me back to the surface. it would be better than getting lost in a possible underground labyrinth. And besides, however spartan the room is, it has a somewhat cozy charm to it. I can settle in for a little while at the desk, letting the torch dry me off and keep me warm while I wait. ThreeThree days. Three days I have been trapped down here, or at least I assume so. I have actually fallen asleep three times, and had to scrounge enough food that it feels like three days. What little food is here isn’t exactly fresh, stored inside of a run down pantry a little further into the carved tunnels and away from the water, but I hadn’t much other choice. I cannot find my way out, and the other pony I saw hasn’t returned. I’ve taken to tentatively exploring the other tunnels. A surprising amount of them are neatly carved out and are supported by old wooden beams and supports, but here and there the tunnels give way to more natural caverns and tunnels. Not a single one of them looks like a way out, but after my first night I decided I needed to try and figure which one will lead to my salvation. I discounted most of the tunnels that ran down, assuming they would only go deeper into the hills and rock and opposite where I wanted to go. This left me three tunnels that sloped up, one wide and two narrow. I explored the wide one on the second day for a few hours, and it turned out to be a surprisingly linear path and easy enough to walk in my state. About halfway through exploring it, however, it began to twist and run back down into the earth. By the end I could hear the familiar sound of rushing water, and come up from one of the downward passages. Hours wasted on a bloody loop. After returning I was too tired to really care much. I ate. I slept. I woke up earlier today feeling demoralised. My friends are most certainly worried about me now, and while the thought is comforting being with no company, no sunlight for three awful, awful days is just so… so… I can’t really think of a single word to encapsulate it, really. I still manage to drag myself off the awful table I have been using as a bed. I managed to steal a rough sheet from one of the other rooms to use as a blanket, to fight off my growing shivers. Now I tie it around my neck as a makeshift cloak to help keep me warm for my next bout of exploration. The remaining two tunnels are narrow, but just wide enough that I can squeeze my way through. I opt for one further from my current hostel, and begin another expedition. It is frustratingly steep. Rather than a gentle incline like the wider passage, this one forces me to climb it, like an ancient stairwell, rising up from the depths of Celestia knows where. Every few feet forward and up I am forced to pause, to catch my breath and recuperate, but I have the faintest feeling of making progress. That is enough to keep me going, to lift myself up and dust myself off and to keep on trying. It feels like hours before I arrive somewhere meaningful. Somewhere ahead and above I can make out the faintest of light, a dim, twinkling glow. The closer I get, each step upward, I see more of the light and it feels increasingly familiar. At last I poke my head up over the final step to a cavern, flat, shining, and comfortingly the same as the caves I am used to exploring. All the tension in my muscles and bones release, making me fall flat on the ground at the top of the passage, and I can’t help but let out a girlish giggle. Maybe it’s a little too early, but I feel confident. I am close. Steeling myself, I get back to my hooves and walk forward. There is a growing temptation to examine the gemstones around me but I leave my horn aglow, dim as it is, and I ignore my urges. Then I stop, as ahead I spot a familiar cloaked figure slowly hobbling along, muttering something under their breath though that cuts off the moment they appear to spot me. In silence we stare each other down, though I cannot see their face clearly. I hadn’t realised until now just how poor my eyesight was getting. Taking a breath, I open my mouth to speak when the other pony darts for me and my words come out a shrill shriek. I turn, aiming to run back the way I came, but the uneven beating of hooves catches me before I can truly get going and tackles me to the floor. We tumble head over hoof, nearly careening back down the passage whence I came. In the commotion they smack my horn and my light goes out, leaving us in the eerie twinkling ambience of the local magic. I try to swing up at them, aiming for their head, but my hooves connect far earlier than I expected and I end up beating the air out of their chest. Apparently that’s enough for them to lose their strength, and I am able to squirm out from underneath, my lame leg dragging behind me. Whimpering with each step, I manage to put space between us, but my assailant recovers quickly. I need to be as quick to stop this before it gets out of hoof, so with my one good leg I tense up before kicking it out behind me. There’s a horrid squelch and crack behind me, and I catch the figure falling to the floor in my peripheral vision. I don’t wait to see if they are okay. I flee back the way I came, wanting nothing more than to remove myself from the situation, to hide in the one place I know down here. My flight back down the natural stairs is far quicker than the grueling climb earlier. After nearly slipping a few times I realise I need light, but though I try to cast the spell it fails me. My chest aches at the realisation of why that might be, but I don’t linger on it. I can’t linger on it. I need to get back to safety. Soon I am back in the little complex of carved out rooms and I practically fall into the one, lit room. I let the panic attack finally take over. I can scarcely breathe and my limbs turn into facsimiles of their former selves, bundled up beneath me, and I cry. I cry when I think of my friends, whose touch and affection I am increasingly convinced I will never see again. I cry when I think of the horrible, nasty ponies down here with me who wish nothing more than to hurt me. I cry at my sorry, crippled state, barely able to walk and now unable to cast any magic at all. I cry and I cry and I cry until my throat is hoarse and my eyes sting and until I am so completely and utterly exhausted that broken dreams take me. FourI did not sleep restfully. I wake up, my eyes sore and blurry and barely able to see. The mix of nausea and hunger in my tummy makes both feelings hurt more, and to top it all off I feel like all my limbs are broken, though fortunately as I stand up I prove it is the same, lame rear leg. On top of my worsening eyesight, my hearing has become dull, too. I can still hear the rushing waterfall in the larger cavern behind me, but I can hardly make out my own hoofsteps, nor the sound of the torch’s flame licking at the wall. I also realise that if I am here, no more harmed than I was before, then last night’s attacker must have decided I was no longer worth it. I don’t acknowledge the grim alternative. The need to eat eventually wins out, pushing that sick feeling down. I’m sure it will come back, but I ought to take advantage of its absence, so I turn around and step out of the door and into the corridor. My throat seizes and my heart stops as again I spot a figure standing by the curtain of water. I can’t make out any details save for a dim light by their head. I am not driven by panic this time, instead making the conscious effort to dart away toward the tunnel I explored yesterday. They shout something, their voice high and shrill, but I don’t make out the words. I can’t trust them, not after the others. I can’t. I rush through the narrow passageway. I rush up the stairs, ignoring the pain flaring in my leg again. I rush through the tunnel at the top and then… I slow down. I look around. There isn’t any light. I must have taken a wrong turn. Maybe I took the wrong passage and went through the one unexplored and now I can’t go back. These… these monsters know the place better than I do, and they will be waiting. I whimper and swear, summoning every horrid little curse I know and uttering it to the cold blackness around me. I know I’m not a fighter but I just up and ran and gave my one advantage away and now I am trapped in another set of tunnels I don’t know. I should have turned on that monster. I should have stood my ground. I should have just left the day before. I should have never approached that pit. I should never have come here alone. I should have I should have I should have— I see a light. One light. It brings my frenetic thoughts to a stop and I stare at it and it grows brighter and nearer and stronger until I can make out the fact the dim, blue star belongs to somepony else. The monster found me again, but I learned my lesson now. I can’t take a chance, I can’t let it get the upper hoof. I charge at it, almost bringing all my legs to bear, we collide. Falling to the ground I pin it beneath my weight and in my lacking vision I swing a hoof at the only thing I can see. The light goes out, but I don’t stop, attempting to bring my hooves down again. Two sharp hits smash into my chest, one right in the middle and forcing the wind out of me. I lurch backward, fighting my muscles to try and draw in breath again, while the monster scuffles back into the dark. I can’t let it away now. With the last vestiges of strength in me I leap at where it was and then— FiveHead hurts. Jaw hurts. Leg hurts. Everything hurts. Hurts to stand. Hurts to walk. Hurts to remember. Can’t see. Something on my face? No, can’t feel anything under my hoof. Blind? No, remember seeing… something. Blue. Bright. Makes me think of pain. Everything hurts. Struggle to walk. Not all my legs work. Back one bends oddly. Where am I? Dark. Wet. Something familiar about it. Part of me. Faint light ahead. Walk faster. Help maybe. Friends maybe. Tunnel. I am in a tunnel. I remember. Tunnels I have been to often, dark and wet and shiny. Definitely a part of me. Light is orange and warm. Not something to be scared of. It must be good. it must be a way out. Running now. Galloping. It hurts so, so, so much but I just need to get outside. I can hear voices, so it must be outside it must be safe it must be— I hit something. The light falls under me. I slide and tumble and lose sight of everything until something else hits me. Everything hurts. Then nothing does. Author's Note Thank you again to Seer for the prompt: Horror story involving Rarity, with the caveat she can be the only character we actively see in the story.
OnePonies always tell me to be careful of the caves just outside Ponyville, and with good reason. Not that it ever stops me. They are dark and treacherous, with winding, twisting paths and sudden drops. According to my friend Twilight, old rivers and streams used to flow through the caves, having carved out the routes I walk today. Sometimes I swear I can hear the flow of water somewhere deeper in the rock. Then there are the native creatures who nest here; insects and spiders and bats and whatever else I dare not imagine. They all make me uncomfortable, and while I have an image to uphold, I am not so stuck up I can’t admit I might come running out of the caves once in a while. Yet I always return. While I’m driven back by my need for precious stones, I could always purchase those in the long term even if it would bite into my overhead. Instead I enjoy the act of spelunking in and of itself. I swear if my calling wasn’t in fashion, it would be in exploring dark, damp, wet caves for all their secrets. This very day isn’t much different. Spurred on by a lack of sapphires and rubies I needed for some new project Rainbow Dash of all ponies commissioned, I find myself drawn in deep, deep into the caves by my dowsing spell. I had already located a few gems, which were now weighing down my saddlebag, but they weren’t enough. A lantern hangs from my neck, illuminating the way ahead of me, while I focus on the spell illuminating the gems hidden in the walls. It takes some searching but I manage to find the beginnings of another seam and I giggle in glee. I follow the tendril, looking for the largest concentration, but after a few more steps one of my hooves doesn’t connect with the floor when I expect it too. I lurch forward then manage to catch myself, before gazing down at the drop below. It’s sharp, almost doubling back on itself, and a few ledges and outcroppings make me thankful my reflexes saved me. I suppose keeping a better eye on where I was walking would be better. No matter. Looking up, I follow the seam once more, and to my delight the biggest concentration is just nearby. Also to my frustration, it is also almost overhanging the drop down below. I hadn’t brought the tools to collect something like this, and while I could try and break apart the wall around it, extracting the gems, I couldn’t do so carefully enough, and I certainly don’t trust myself not to try to lean forward and fall. With a sigh I turn around. I’ll have to remember this seam, come back with some tools to hold myself up and catch myself if I were to fall. Maybe I could bring Spike along— Hooves beat rapidly against rock. I stop in my tracks, tilting my head and turning my ears down the tunnel. Somepony is running my way. “Hello?” I call out, and for a moment the galloping becomes crystal clear. A moment later, a cloaked pony tackles me and we both fall. Down into the pit.
TwoDrip. Drip. Drip. Everything aches. My back and shoulders and head and legs all ache. I try to move, but I just feel so heavy. Drip. Drip. Something falls onto my face. Something wet and warm, splashing off my forehead and teasing my lashes. I’m able to finally lift one of my legs and wave it in front of me, briefly stopping the drops. Drip. In all of my shuffling, my sluggish attempts to open my lids, one drop splashes directly onto my eye spurs all my limbs into motion. Rolling onto my front with a hiss I hold a hoof over the eye and blink away rapidly. The stinging clears up in a few moments, though an element of soreness remains. I remain there, blinking away, and I realise I cannot see my own hooves in front of me. Confused, I continue blinking, trying to recall past events, and remember being in the caves. I remember the pit, and the sapphire in the walls, and then the pony tackling me. Ah. Right. I have some choice words for that pony. I cast a light spell and illuminate my immediate surroundings. It isn’t as bright or as warm as a lantern, leaving much of the world around me in blue-tinted monochrome. Even so, I make out the shattered remains of my lamp ahead of me. I’m lucky I had not landed on it, or the glass shards on the ground. I take a glance around, examining my surroundings. My saddlebag is still on my back, empty save for a few gemstones and some light supplies. There is no sign of my assailant, however, and I let out a high pitched harumph. “How very rude,” I say to nopony in particular, though I hope that they are still around. I slowly rise to my hooves. “I was merely minding my own business and then was so sorely interrupt—” I cry out and fall onto my front again as I settle one of my back legs to the floor. None of the weight connects, I feel something slide that shouldn’t, and the pain that strikes me saps all my strength, leaving me shaking on the floor. Leaving the small part of my mind amazed that I kept the hornlight cast, I rolled onto my back. With tears in my eyes, and the right still considerably blurry, I gingerly pull a terrifically broken leg into view. There is a nasty gash down the side, and the bone below the knee is worryingly short. Swallowing down my anxiety, I can see why when some of the bone prods at my skin from beneath. I let go of my leg and try to relax myself as nausea floods my gut. A hot flash fills me, quickly making me sweat, while my mind proceeds to race and my breath escapes me. A prelude to panic. One I can ill afford. Swallowing again, I drag my thoughts into order, thinking about grounding myself— Drip. Something dark and wet and warm strikes my forehead. I finally process from where. A cloaked figure. A pale horn with dark liquid running its length. Dulled eyes staring me down. All hanging from a single rocky outcrop, piercing their chest. My light winks out. I roll to my side, and while my body tries to vomit, all I am able to do is dry heave and dribble bile down my lips. I am used to dealing with panic. It is not a feeling I experience often, and sometimes without logical cause, but it never feels quite so bad knowing I am in the comfort of my home or surrounded by friends. Without both, the feeling is unbearable, coming out in shaking limbs and rapid, shallow breaths. Without sight or the wherewithal to try I cannot ground myself. I remain in that rotten state for what feels like an eternity. Quivering, panting, sweating and sobbing. The adrenaline in me forces my mind to race through previous events, remembering my search, remembering the attack, remembering the corpse above me. It makes me feel sick again, but my body knows I have nothing more to give. I wish I had a blanket to cower under. Drip. The dull, wet thud of blood hitting the cave floor breaks through my panic. I wish it didn’t, knowing what the source of that noise is. Drip. But I cannot ignore it. It is all the sound I have other than my breaths and whimpers. So I focus. Drip. It’s regular, I think. I open my mouth, take in a shaky breath and start counting. “O-one-little-pony, two-little-ponies, three-little-ponies—” Drip. “One-little-pony, two-little-ponies, three-little-ponies, four—” Drip. “One-little-pony, two-little-ponies, three-little-ponies, four…” Drip. I keep counting in my head, noting that the space between the drops grows, gaining a fraction of a beat each time. Despite the irony of it, that focus slows my breathing, calms my mind. Sweet Celestia I still feel like a wire about to snap, but my body is back under my control. First thing is first; I need to address the broken leg. I know I can’t walk on it in its current state, but that is no reason to leave it unattended, so with my horn now relit—albeit far dimmer, so the light doesn’t reveal what is above me—I start my work. Using the water I intended for drinking, I rinse off my leg. The wound continues to bleed, but the runoff is mostly clear once the bottle is half empty. I wrap the wound in a bandage, then run it up and down my leg, then to keep the bones still I place a chisel inside of the wrapping and secure that in place too. It’s shoddy. It won’t hold forever. It will hold for the few hours it needs to. I roll over, rise to my hooves again, this time taking care to not put pressure onto the injured leg, and I hobble along, working deeper into the cave, lighting my way by dull blue hornlight. The walk is slow and miserable with my own thoughts for company, and it ends up turning into a long, downward slog that meanders for goodness how long. I can’t shake the image of the pony from my mind, distracting me enough to trip over the odd bump in the ground. Fortunately the puzzles of how to climb down some of the bigger drops keeps my mind occupied. It’s as I come down one more ledge and round another bend that I hear the faintest sound of rushing water. The air is cooler, despite how deep down I am, and each step forward brings me closer to the noise until finally I step into a cavern so large my horn isn’t able to light it all. I can make out water falling into a pool ahead of me, the spray giving the air around a refreshing feel that wets my fur pleasantly. The surface of the pool, rippling as it is, reflects the light from my horn like a twinkling night sky. Despite my situation, I decide to sit down by the water’s edge. A dull headache throbs somewhere deep in my skull from exhaustion and what I hope isn’t an injury. Looming over the pond I examine my head, and to my relief I am at the worst merely grubby, save for the splotch of dried blood dead center on my forehead. If being near the water was refreshing, then splashing it on my face can only be best described as divine. With every hoofful I throw onto my face I rub at my cheeks and forehead, tidying myself up. It dribbles into my mane, making my perm sag somewhat, and other trickles run down my neck and onto my chest and shoulders where it makes the fur around it stand on end though even that feels good, but to my annoyance my right eye remains blurry despite washing the blood from it. Then I simply just sit there, too exhausted to carry myself further. I know I need to continue on, but my body and mind demand I rest, so I do for minutes. My mind wanders, distracted by the wavy night sky in the water, and I think of my friends again. I laugh at the idea of them worrying over me, and getting a flurry of ‘I told you so’s from all of them. I wonder if the dead pony has any friends. I couldn’t even describe them to anypony, other than confirming they were a unicorn with a light coat. Maybe that’s something for somepony else to sort out if they follow in my hoofsteps. Another little wave of nausea washes over me, but it’s mild. Despite my somber feelings, I rise once more to my hooves with a grunt, and check for other exits. There has to be one somewhere for the water to run off to, but it isn’t visible from where I stand. Walking along the water’s edge, I try to spot if there is some underwater passage, but my hornlight is simply scattered off the surface and makes it impossible to tell. What does catch my eye is the glimpse of a space behind the waterfall, though with no clear gaps either side of it I can’t be certain of what I see without getting wet. I tense up, preparing myself for the cold shock while walking the wet, slippery edge of the pool. My perm is entirely ruined at this stage, sticking to my head and shoulder. Alas, there is little I can do for it now, but at least its sacrifice to my curiosity paid off. My hooves fall onto wood instead of rock and the water flowers beneath. The walls are smoothed and squared off at the top, and they are even bracketed here and there by more wooden archways to support the weight of the rock and earth above. With another sigh of relief, I dip my head and continue walking along the carved out corridor. There are a few doors on the right side of the cavern, lifted up a few steps to presumably keep them from flooding. Most of them are rotten down, allowing me to peer inside to empty beds and shelves. The end of the corridor turns gently, with a right hand turn to one last room, of which a warm, orange light shines out. A light means warmth. Probably fire, maybe magic, but definitely somepony, or somecreature at least. Awkwardly I pick up my pace, but a few steps in something darts out of the door. Another pony in a cloak, their face obscured by shadows and my weakening hornlight. They look my way for all of half a heartbeat before they bolt off in the other direction, deeper into the corridor. “Wait!” I shout. “I just need some help, some way out…” I fall quiet, deciding it isn’t any use to shout after the retreating sound of galloping. The noise disappears into the depths, while I make my way into the lit room. It really isn’t any different from the other rooms behind me, with a wooden bench along one wall, wide enough to lay on, and a table and chairs and shelves along the other. The light is cast by a touch slotted into a sconce near the exit, above the table. Knowing that this space is lived in, I make the decision to wait. Surely the occupant will return and I can explain myself then, and surely they will understand my plight and help me back to the surface. it would be better than getting lost in a possible underground labyrinth. And besides, however spartan the room is, it has a somewhat cozy charm to it. I can settle in for a little while at the desk, letting the torch dry me off and keep me warm while I wait.
ThreeThree days. Three days I have been trapped down here, or at least I assume so. I have actually fallen asleep three times, and had to scrounge enough food that it feels like three days. What little food is here isn’t exactly fresh, stored inside of a run down pantry a little further into the carved tunnels and away from the water, but I hadn’t much other choice. I cannot find my way out, and the other pony I saw hasn’t returned. I’ve taken to tentatively exploring the other tunnels. A surprising amount of them are neatly carved out and are supported by old wooden beams and supports, but here and there the tunnels give way to more natural caverns and tunnels. Not a single one of them looks like a way out, but after my first night I decided I needed to try and figure which one will lead to my salvation. I discounted most of the tunnels that ran down, assuming they would only go deeper into the hills and rock and opposite where I wanted to go. This left me three tunnels that sloped up, one wide and two narrow. I explored the wide one on the second day for a few hours, and it turned out to be a surprisingly linear path and easy enough to walk in my state. About halfway through exploring it, however, it began to twist and run back down into the earth. By the end I could hear the familiar sound of rushing water, and come up from one of the downward passages. Hours wasted on a bloody loop. After returning I was too tired to really care much. I ate. I slept. I woke up earlier today feeling demoralised. My friends are most certainly worried about me now, and while the thought is comforting being with no company, no sunlight for three awful, awful days is just so… so… I can’t really think of a single word to encapsulate it, really. I still manage to drag myself off the awful table I have been using as a bed. I managed to steal a rough sheet from one of the other rooms to use as a blanket, to fight off my growing shivers. Now I tie it around my neck as a makeshift cloak to help keep me warm for my next bout of exploration. The remaining two tunnels are narrow, but just wide enough that I can squeeze my way through. I opt for one further from my current hostel, and begin another expedition. It is frustratingly steep. Rather than a gentle incline like the wider passage, this one forces me to climb it, like an ancient stairwell, rising up from the depths of Celestia knows where. Every few feet forward and up I am forced to pause, to catch my breath and recuperate, but I have the faintest feeling of making progress. That is enough to keep me going, to lift myself up and dust myself off and to keep on trying. It feels like hours before I arrive somewhere meaningful. Somewhere ahead and above I can make out the faintest of light, a dim, twinkling glow. The closer I get, each step upward, I see more of the light and it feels increasingly familiar. At last I poke my head up over the final step to a cavern, flat, shining, and comfortingly the same as the caves I am used to exploring. All the tension in my muscles and bones release, making me fall flat on the ground at the top of the passage, and I can’t help but let out a girlish giggle. Maybe it’s a little too early, but I feel confident. I am close. Steeling myself, I get back to my hooves and walk forward. There is a growing temptation to examine the gemstones around me but I leave my horn aglow, dim as it is, and I ignore my urges. Then I stop, as ahead I spot a familiar cloaked figure slowly hobbling along, muttering something under their breath though that cuts off the moment they appear to spot me. In silence we stare each other down, though I cannot see their face clearly. I hadn’t realised until now just how poor my eyesight was getting. Taking a breath, I open my mouth to speak when the other pony darts for me and my words come out a shrill shriek. I turn, aiming to run back the way I came, but the uneven beating of hooves catches me before I can truly get going and tackles me to the floor. We tumble head over hoof, nearly careening back down the passage whence I came. In the commotion they smack my horn and my light goes out, leaving us in the eerie twinkling ambience of the local magic. I try to swing up at them, aiming for their head, but my hooves connect far earlier than I expected and I end up beating the air out of their chest. Apparently that’s enough for them to lose their strength, and I am able to squirm out from underneath, my lame leg dragging behind me. Whimpering with each step, I manage to put space between us, but my assailant recovers quickly. I need to be as quick to stop this before it gets out of hoof, so with my one good leg I tense up before kicking it out behind me. There’s a horrid squelch and crack behind me, and I catch the figure falling to the floor in my peripheral vision. I don’t wait to see if they are okay. I flee back the way I came, wanting nothing more than to remove myself from the situation, to hide in the one place I know down here. My flight back down the natural stairs is far quicker than the grueling climb earlier. After nearly slipping a few times I realise I need light, but though I try to cast the spell it fails me. My chest aches at the realisation of why that might be, but I don’t linger on it. I can’t linger on it. I need to get back to safety. Soon I am back in the little complex of carved out rooms and I practically fall into the one, lit room. I let the panic attack finally take over. I can scarcely breathe and my limbs turn into facsimiles of their former selves, bundled up beneath me, and I cry. I cry when I think of my friends, whose touch and affection I am increasingly convinced I will never see again. I cry when I think of the horrible, nasty ponies down here with me who wish nothing more than to hurt me. I cry at my sorry, crippled state, barely able to walk and now unable to cast any magic at all. I cry and I cry and I cry until my throat is hoarse and my eyes sting and until I am so completely and utterly exhausted that broken dreams take me.
FourI did not sleep restfully. I wake up, my eyes sore and blurry and barely able to see. The mix of nausea and hunger in my tummy makes both feelings hurt more, and to top it all off I feel like all my limbs are broken, though fortunately as I stand up I prove it is the same, lame rear leg. On top of my worsening eyesight, my hearing has become dull, too. I can still hear the rushing waterfall in the larger cavern behind me, but I can hardly make out my own hoofsteps, nor the sound of the torch’s flame licking at the wall. I also realise that if I am here, no more harmed than I was before, then last night’s attacker must have decided I was no longer worth it. I don’t acknowledge the grim alternative. The need to eat eventually wins out, pushing that sick feeling down. I’m sure it will come back, but I ought to take advantage of its absence, so I turn around and step out of the door and into the corridor. My throat seizes and my heart stops as again I spot a figure standing by the curtain of water. I can’t make out any details save for a dim light by their head. I am not driven by panic this time, instead making the conscious effort to dart away toward the tunnel I explored yesterday. They shout something, their voice high and shrill, but I don’t make out the words. I can’t trust them, not after the others. I can’t. I rush through the narrow passageway. I rush up the stairs, ignoring the pain flaring in my leg again. I rush through the tunnel at the top and then… I slow down. I look around. There isn’t any light. I must have taken a wrong turn. Maybe I took the wrong passage and went through the one unexplored and now I can’t go back. These… these monsters know the place better than I do, and they will be waiting. I whimper and swear, summoning every horrid little curse I know and uttering it to the cold blackness around me. I know I’m not a fighter but I just up and ran and gave my one advantage away and now I am trapped in another set of tunnels I don’t know. I should have turned on that monster. I should have stood my ground. I should have just left the day before. I should have never approached that pit. I should never have come here alone. I should have I should have I should have— I see a light. One light. It brings my frenetic thoughts to a stop and I stare at it and it grows brighter and nearer and stronger until I can make out the fact the dim, blue star belongs to somepony else. The monster found me again, but I learned my lesson now. I can’t take a chance, I can’t let it get the upper hoof. I charge at it, almost bringing all my legs to bear, we collide. Falling to the ground I pin it beneath my weight and in my lacking vision I swing a hoof at the only thing I can see. The light goes out, but I don’t stop, attempting to bring my hooves down again. Two sharp hits smash into my chest, one right in the middle and forcing the wind out of me. I lurch backward, fighting my muscles to try and draw in breath again, while the monster scuffles back into the dark. I can’t let it away now. With the last vestiges of strength in me I leap at where it was and then—
FiveHead hurts. Jaw hurts. Leg hurts. Everything hurts. Hurts to stand. Hurts to walk. Hurts to remember. Can’t see. Something on my face? No, can’t feel anything under my hoof. Blind? No, remember seeing… something. Blue. Bright. Makes me think of pain. Everything hurts. Struggle to walk. Not all my legs work. Back one bends oddly. Where am I? Dark. Wet. Something familiar about it. Part of me. Faint light ahead. Walk faster. Help maybe. Friends maybe. Tunnel. I am in a tunnel. I remember. Tunnels I have been to often, dark and wet and shiny. Definitely a part of me. Light is orange and warm. Not something to be scared of. It must be good. it must be a way out. Running now. Galloping. It hurts so, so, so much but I just need to get outside. I can hear voices, so it must be outside it must be safe it must be— I hit something. The light falls under me. I slide and tumble and lose sight of everything until something else hits me. Everything hurts. Then nothing does. Author's Note Thank you again to Seer for the prompt: Horror story involving Rarity, with the caveat she can be the only character we actively see in the story.
