Amid a cold winter, before technology...
She ran.
Her hooves beat a blazing trail through the winter snow. Crunching, the soft plumes erupted every which way around her. A small part of her prayed the spray would slow it down, even just a little bit.
Soundlessly, the winged shadow of the beast touched at her side.
Her eyes were already too wide. She pivoted, turning her head in the clear sun, looking for a new avenue of escape. Her heart continued to pound at her, yearning for a reprieve from the endless dead sprint she’d heaved her lungs into. Breath after breath, her world quivered, begging her to slow, to give in to the exhaustion steadily creeping in. The snow was no place for the young pony, just barely a few moons into marehood. Her wicker basket of berries was long forgotten—it hadn’t been worth the risk.
Now, she’d be forgotten, too.
Her muzzle dipped upward briefly, searching the sky fruitlessly for the gaze of the hawk-eyed monster. It had spotted her through the leafless treeline, chased her into this open snow field, and had fiendishly blocked her in with each curving shadow. It was too high to see, and she shook a patch of snow across her withers as she sent another wave of fresh snow flying. The shadow curved again, carrying on its hounding role. Her eyes quaked between the land ahead, and the shadow. Her eyes crossed it too late: it had been but a few hooves wide in one moment, and now…
A ravenous, biting lash of air scratched against her back. She screamed, stumbling.
The shadow pulled away, and she was left alone. She didn’t stop. Tears poured freely as her muscles spasmed, twitching under the pressures of the now too-long drawn exertion. That had to have been a passing glance, a test of her remaining strength. The tears flowed faster than before, turning to a melting, scalding river that trudged through the snow just as evenly as her hooves. The tribe’s stallions had been right. She should never have listened to her fellow tribesmares. In a few more moments, it would all be over.
Cresting a final hill, her breath hitched suddenly. She barely managed to keep herself from sliding across the frosted land as she galloped down the snow-covered hill. The village forest was right there! And it was rife with cover.
Energy filled her till she was brimming with aplomb. It wasn’t over, not yet. Casting out a yell, her shrill voice filled the land around her. Her vision was watery, and she blinked hard, miraculously clearing it. Her muzzle listed down, her eyes sharpening fiercely until she’d put all her focus into the treeline. She could get there. Step by step, she galloped, thundercracks reaming through the land with abandon. She could make it. A yip of happiness crossed her. She wasn’t but a hundred hooves away, now. She idly took notice of the missing shadow. The freedom collapsed against her lungs. She looked to her fetlocks as the gap closed, then back up. With all of the strength and will she had in her hooves, she sprung forward.
And then, her hooves crossed against nothing.
A gasp tugged the remaining breath in her barrel as something yanked against her. A mellow pain thunked across both her forelegs and hindlegs. Her back was flooded with warmth. A too-sweet smell crossed against her, melding against her hot breath and sweat. She flailed, crying once more. She looked for help.
The earth waved her goodbye.
Into the air, she began to soar. Her eyes widened like empty clay bowls, and her flailing began to slow. The gravity of the world pulled at her, but it did not return her to where she belonged, to the comfort of the home where she’d spent all her life. The trees of the hidden village swayed, unaffected by her plight. She watched as the snow and her sea of tracks fell away, replaced by the molten, flapping shadow of two ponies.
A pegasus had caught her.
Her eyes tracked upward, but she could see nothing of the brute. She could do nothing. Her heart continued to beat tremendously, pumping for nothing but her own fear. Did she fight? She looked down, and away. The tears and fight left her. Shivering, the only thing she could find comfort in was the unassuming darkness of her closed eyes, and the acrid warmth draped across her spine. She knew better than to trust that touch, but it was all she had, now: at least she wouldn’t perish to the cold.
Above, a pulsing snort shook her. She curled into herself as she best she could.
She couldn’t fool herself. This was no better than being clenched in the teeth of a timberwolf.
After a long, silent journey, she opened her eyes. The flapping of wings was still present, and the whistling of air was exacerbated by the fatal fall below: she was provided an inadvertent view of the world from above. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t distraction enough.
Suddenly, the world turned belly-up, and she saw the sun. Clouds surrounded her, and she gasped with shock as she plunged through one. A stray hoof thread itself through the pearly white surface, and she watched in awe as it split like torn linen. It was cool, moist, and fluffier than she’d ever imagined.
Splashes of cloud threw themselves up around her, and she felt her innards fall back into place. She closed her eyes, the sun shining against her face. She settled backward into the warmth, but stayed frozen.
The rumbling snorts of the pegasus thronged along her, and the young mare squeezed her eyes even tighter. Huffing and puffing, she heard its feathers shuffling, and then hooves traced along her. She squirmed away, and a giggle wormed from below.
…Wait.
“Do you like mares, earth pony?”
It—it wasn’t a stallion! The tribesmares had said that—
“Because I do.”
She swallowed, and held her silence.
In reply, teeth nipped at her nape. Her hindlegs kicked out involuntarily, and she blushed. Meekly, she squeaked out the start of a complaint. The bold pegasus seemed to hear none of it. Soft murmurs swilled through her ears as the pegasus’ hooves pulled her in, their coats blending together. A strange feeling crossed her heart, and it finally relaxed, beating gently. The warmth doubled across her body, and ever-so slightly, she began to unwrap herself. She slid her hooves upward, and hooked over the forelegs twined around her. With each passing caress, more edges of a smile tipped over her muzzle.
She’d been swooped.
Author's Note
I want to get swooped.
Your move, pegasus.
