Long Night at Camp Everfree

Pinkie ran. Tears streaming down her face, branches whipping by and snagging on her clothes, eyes almost completely unable to see in the darkness. Her rapidly running feet caught on something, and she spilled to the ground. Still frantic, she tried to crawl along, scrabbling for anything that could get her back upright. Desperately grabbing at the trunk of a tree, she hoisted herself up and began running again.

More so than any physical harm she experienced, Pinkie was trapped in her mind. The image of Fluttershy rapidly dying played over and over again in her mind, one of her best friends gone forever. And worse still, their attacker’s words pinged around like torture.

“Only one left.”

Was it really true? Was she the only one left alive? She had already witnessed the casual murder of just one of her friends, it was entirely possible that the others had suffered similar fates.

“No.” She suddenly stopped, and stared intensely into the night. A stupid maneuver, laughable even, but perhaps the most mindful thing she had done since Fluttershy’s death. “I won’t accept they’re dead until there’s no other possibility. I can’t give up on them.”

Her breathing slowed, and a new emotion began to take up place besides her fear and sadness. Determination.

When Pinkie began to move again, it was with a deliberate purpose. She would make her way back to camp, find out if any of the others were still alive, and they would all kill that bitch.

How long Pinkie ran she did not know, only that when she finally did emerge from the woods again, she found herself near the councilors’ cabins. Despite a pounding sense of dread, she knew she needed to check them. Steeling her resolve, she moved into the site and began to search it.

She started at the bathrooms, the most outlying structure in the area. At first there didn’t seem to be anything out of place, especially given the shrouding darkness. But at closer examination, she found a few tiny pinpricks of blood on the concrete floor by the sinks. Easily unnoticeable, almost enough to pass off as being from a bloody nose or other mishap. But to Pinkie, the tiny droplets of liquid only made the tightness in her chest to worsen, her sniffles to redouble, and her gut to feel like a bottomless pit. Wiping her nose with a sleeve briefly, she turned towards the cabins, ever more worried about what she might find.

Nearest to the bathrooms, Pinkie found her and Fluttershy’s cabin. As she wrenched the door open, the fear in her chest bubbled up and caused her to become lightheaded for a moment before she was even able to take in what she was seeing. Or more accurately, what she didn’t see. Nothing was really out of place, both of their areas still exactly how they had left them that morning. Though Pinkie still felt a pang in her chest as her eyes roamed over Fluttershy’s side of the cabin, reminding her of her now dead friend.

As she sniffed, memories of Fluttershy pinging around her head, she raised up a hand to brush her hair out of her eye. The usually riotous and gravity defying mess had become as straight as a ruler and fallen flat against her head, including covering her right eye. As she moved it out of the way, she didn’t even notice how the tint of her skin had started to lose some of its luster, graying out just slightly enough to be passed off in the darkness. Turning her back to the empty cabin, she shut the door behind her and continued on.

Next up in the line was Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s cabin. Given their disappearance together earlier, Pinkie hoped that there would be at least some clue that they had been there. She pulled the door open, and saw what was inside. Applejack’s and Rainbow’s blood soaked bodies, lying atop each other on Rainbow’s bunk. Their eyes glazed over in death, staring blankly into space. Where before Pinkie felt herself go dizzy with anticipation and fear and block out the world, the immediate horrible truth of the sight kept her firmly locked in reality. She locked up and couldn’t process anything other than what was in front of her.

How long Pinkie stayed like that she did not know, but it was a light breeze playing at her back that reminded her just how open and vulnerable she was, and how stupid it was to be standing completely still. Even as her gut wrenched and convulsed, and she felt like throwing up, she found herself closing the door as quietly as she could.

Her arms clenched tightly around her torso, both to keep out the chill of the night and to keep herself somewhat together, Pinkie crept towards the last cabin in the row. Spirits lower than ever, she paused heavily as her hand reached for the handle. She really didn’t want to know what was inside. The scene next door made her feel that it was very unlikely anyone would somehow still be alive and hiding out. Yet beneath the fear, there was the burning desire to know. To make absolute certain of her friends’ fates to quench the uncertainty once and for all.

“Curiosity killed the cat, isn’t that the old saying?” Pinkie thought, and the phrase brought some new questions to mind. “Who the fuck is this mean bitch anyway? Where did she come from to kill us like this?” Her hand actually fell from the door for a moment as she pondered the sheer ridiculousness of the situation that she found herself in. “It’s like one of Rainbow Dash’s old movies!” she let out an almost maniacal giggle at the cruel coincidence of her situation.

Somehow even more unbalanced, and with the gray shading having prominently taken over, Pinkie wrenched open the door to the cabin. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see Twilight’s body lying on the floor with bloody eyes and a disemboweled stomach.

“Welp, I guess I really am the last survivor. Seems like we’re playing things by the book.” Slamming the door shut again, Pinkamena ran off into the dark again, a plan forming in her head. “It doesn’t matter who she is or why she’s doing this, but I pinkie-promise that the mean lady who killed my friends dies here tonight.”

Pinkamena crashed through the door to the mess hall, the sound absorbed by the emptiness of the night. Even in the darkness, she knew the building well enough from baking treats over the years and made her way into the kitchen to find what she needed.

First, a selection of knives were magnetized to the wall above the sink. She grabbed a large chef’s knife that she gripped tightly in hand, and also a smaller pearling knife which she tucked into the back of her skirt. Second, the walk-in closet stocked with pots, pans, and dried goods. She hefted the biggest bags of flour, yeast, and other powdery ingredients she could find and brought them out to the main kitchen. Slicing open the tops of the bags, careful to keep as much of the powder in as possible, she lined them up along the counter. With her preparations done, Pinkamena glanced around. There was no telling quite where the shapeshifter might come from, every window and floor crack being just as dangerous as the door.
“Still, one is never exactly ‘ready’ to face a murderous shapeshifter,” Pinkamena thought to herself cynically, gripping the knife ever tighter.

Tracking the last girl through the woods had proven more frustrating than expected. Though her hyperactiveness and general ability to disregard the rules of reality had given Chrysalis pause when observing the teens, she had pushed those concerns aside. Better to deal with the others first, and leave the most likely to escape until last. She now almost regretted that decision as the pink girl traveled far faster through a dense forest in the middle of the night than should have been possible. The eye where Pinkie had struck still smarted as well.

Nonetheless, the advantages of a Changeling physiology were quite obvious and leveled the playing field at least somewhat. Chrysalis had soon transformed into a sleek gray wolf, far more fleet-footed through the woods and with a perfect sense of smell for tracking. Pinkie Pie’s distinctive scent of baked goods, cotton candy, and explosives made her easy to follow.

First, Chrysalis was led to the cabins where the results of her earlier handiwork were on display. Even if she felt a small twinge of pride at her successful kills, now was no time to lord over her victim’s corpses. After that, the scent became a bit more mixed. Out of the woods and into the campgrounds, Chrysalis transformed back into her default self. The trail she had sniffed out was still fresh in her memory though, and she set off for the mess hall.

Pinkamena was crouched hidden among the shelves in the kitchen, far enough away from the windows that even the moonlight stopped revealing her. The once friendly and appetizing boxes of culinary confections were merely dim, hard to make out shapes in the darkness. Perfect to hide amongst.

How long she waited she did not now, in fact she did not know how long it had been since the whole ordeal had begun at all. Since Fluttershy’s death, everything had just been a haze of survival and desperation to her. Details like time no longer seemed to matter. Just a slow, steady breath. In, and out. Keeping her pulse steady, and grip on the knife handle sharp. Just because she had been alone for a while, did not mean she was safe. It was no situation to start breeding complacency. And yet, the night seemed undisturbed. The frogs croaked, crickets chirped, and the omnipresent moon hung over. The forces of nature did not care for the plight of humanity that night.

The creaking of a door finally brought an end to the illusion of peace, and heralded the arrival of Chrysalis. Although Pinkamena could not see the killer, as she had entered into the main mess area, she could hear her. The wisp of the wind as it entered through the frame, the springs pulling the door back as Chrysalis released it. The steady footsteps as Chrysalis prowled through the building, stalking her prey.

“I know you’re here,” her venomous voice teased. “I can feel it. The love you have for your friends, and how much it hurts now that they’re gone,” she put a mock pout at the end of the sentence.

From her hiding spot, Pinkamena bristled at the callous nature of the killer. Then she tensed up, as she realized Chrysalis was coming inside the kitchen.

“You long for it to go away, to see them again,” she continued, now in Pinkamena’s view. The killer had her bowie knife in hand, the serrated edge glinted in the moonlight, and her head was moving from side to side with her green eyes scanning her surroundings. “Come out and I can make you feel all better. I’ll help you join them!” she snapped, her fangs now coming into view as well.

With a yell, Pinkamena rushed from hiding. Her blood was at a boil, the memory of her dead friends at the forefront of her mind, and hatred for the killer who had the audacity to mock her about it consuming her. “Die!”

She stabbed straight at Chrysalis, only for Chrysalis to grab her wrist and twist it brutally. The tendons and bones in her wrist cracked, sending pain wracking through her nervous system. Despite her vigor, Pinkamena was forced to drop the knife. A smug smile on her face, Chrysalis went in for a stab of her own. Pinkamena moved to rapidly however, a quickly smashed her knee into Chrysalis’s crotch. The cheap shot was still a weak spot, and forced the killer to clutch her hands to the pain wracked area. Pressing home the advantage, Pinkamena rapidly raked her fingernails across Chrysalis’s face, drawing blood and screwing with her vision.

“You murdered them, I’ll murder you!”

Surprised at having lost the advantage to a random girl, and now slightly desperate, Chrysalis turned into a fly to escape the onslaught.

Pinkamena’s hands clawed at nothing for a few seconds longer before her head whipped around rapidly and she realized her predicament. She quickly scrambled over to the bags she had set up on the counter and tipped them over and threw them into the air, doing her best to waft as many of the particles into the air as possible. Even as the sudden influx made her cough, she knew it would be far worse for Chrysalis disguised as any tiny creature. Sure enough, there was a flash of green flame directly behind her as the killer returned to her standard form.

Without missing a beat, Pinkamena slammed her backwards into the shelves, causing the contents to rain down on both of them. Hoping that the blow and the powder would keep her adversary stunned for the moment, she quickly snatched up the knife she had dropped earlier, and wheeled back around. As soon as she could, she started stabbing every part of Chrysalis that she could reach. The eye, the chest, the leg, the abdomen, even unintentionally straight through the palm of the hand as it was raised in a defensive gesture. Every time, blood gushed out of the wound and Chrysalis convulsed in pain. Every time, Pinkamena felt a thrill of vindication as her lust for vengeance was satisfied just a bit more.

All of a sudden, a huge paw struck out and slammed into Pinkamena. She was thrown across the room, and hit the counter hard enough to stun her. Even as she tried to blink away the stars, she could see the massive shape that had formed across the room in order to toss her around like this. Chrysalis had transformed into a bear. Though Pinkamena still took a modicum of pleasure in seeing that it retained her injuries, and continued to stumble. In fact, Chrysalis seemed to be having a hard time maintaining the transformation as she soon turned back to her standard humanoid form. One hand was pressed to her gut, trying to staunch the blood flow, while the other was held out in front in case she fell.

Slowly, determinedly, bleeding all the way, Chrysalis made her way next to Pinkamena. At the final step, she did collapse, unable to hold her own weight any longer. Still, she brought her poison green eyes to look into Pinkamena’s blue ones.

“I killed your friends for fun. Just because they were there. Your pathetic friendship means nothing. And now, I’m going to kill you too.” She moved Pinkamena down to have a good shot a her neck and leaned forward, bearing her fangs, but stopped when she heard Pinkamena begin to laugh. “What? What’s so funny?” She asked, completely perplexed.

The laughing Pinkamena rolled over, looking up. “It’s just, you can hate friendship all you want, kill my friends even, but part of me still feels bad for you. You don’t even seem to have any friends. And killing my friends definitely isn’t going to get you any. Your whole thought process is kind of ironic when you think about it.”

Chrysalis just continued to stare at the strange girl, who was laughing mere moments from death.

“You did still kill my friends though,” and at that Pinkamena whipped out the knife she had hidden in her skirt earlier and plunged it straight into Chrysalis’s forehead, the solid steel construction burying itself deep into her skull.

Chrysalis’s eyes rolled over into the back of her head, and her body went limp. Hide holed in a half-dozen places, she collapsed to the floor, blood still oozing out into a puddle.

Pinkamena’s laugh slowed to a chuckle, and she began to pick herself up off the floor. Her outfit was covered in blood, much of it thick and congealed. She found she didn’t care much though, seeing it as a reminder of her recent battle. The pain in her head was passing as well too. Still, for her last few taunts to Chrysalis, that gaping hole from the loss of her friends was hard to ignore.

“Unless…” she thought, and a new idea began to enter her mind.