Chapters The tall mare with the broken horn and scar over her right eye slowly crested the snow-covered hill and looked over. “Huh,” she muttered under her breath as she took in the sight. Everything was covered in gaudy baubles and colorful decorations, but there was no mistaking those familiar thatched roofs and the enormous crystal castle standing over everything. “What are the odds that I’d end up back here?”
There was a part of her that wanted to just turn back around and take a different turn at the fork. Not that she was scared, of course. That wasn’t even on the table.
But maybe she just didn’t want to have a conversation with Twilight and her friends. Nothing was wrong with that.
She glanced at her saddlebags and pursed her lips. They were limply hanging against the traveler's cloak she wore. They said an army marched on its stomach, and right now, Tempest felt that. Feeling absolutely no desire to snack on shrubbery like the ponies of old did in winter, she begrudgingly started walking towards Ponyville. She looked up at the castle. So bright and shiny.
What a target.
Sure, the first floor wasn’t bad, a couple big windows but decently spiky hostile architecture otherwise; but she had no guards, so many huge glass windows in the higher levels, and that balcony was just asking for an airship to come drop down and unload a landing party. She even had strings of Hearth's Warming lights along the railing, like a pre-made landing strip. ‘Hey! Invade me here!’.
Her ears pricked. Somepony was behind her!
Reflexes too ingrained to suppress surfaced. She spun around and slammed her stalker against the wall, the other hoof raised in preparation to forcibly rearrange their face.
Pinkie Pie waved back at her cheerfully, making the bells on her pointed red hat jingle. She was looking surprisingly chipper for somepony being pinned by the neck against a wall. “Hi Fizzy!” she said brightly.
She flinched. “I’m… going by Tempest again,” Tempest said, letting her down. “I’m still figuring out who I am, and I think that name fits me better.”
“You got it!” Pinkie said with no hesitation. “What brings you back around these parts, Tempest?”
“The road,” Tempest said flatly.
Pinkie giggled. “Makes sense to me!”
“How did you know I was coming? Did Twilight finally get a rotating system of watchponies running?”
“Nah. Just a bit of Pinkie Sense. It was an ear flop and knee wiggle. That means an old friend coming to town. Not to be confused with a knee jiggle. Very different.”
Tempest looked at Pinkie and considered that she was somewhat like a living headache, and she knew all about headaches. “Right,” she said slowly.
“So, who do you want to see first? Twilight? Starlight? Moonlight? Moonlight Raven isn’t really one of your friends, I guess, but I had already said two -light names and I wanted to keep that theme going. Ooh! Do you want a ‘welcome back to Ponyville’ party? I know it’s almost Hearth's Warming, but I can sneak in a little party.” She nudged Tempest conspiratorially.
“I’m not staying for Hearth's Warming,” Tempest said quickly. Better to give herself an out early.
“An ‘I’m only here in Ponyville temporarily’ party?” Pinkie suggested.
“I’m not feeling a party,” she said, hoping to cut off any further questions.
“Ok. Are you feeling cake?”
Holding the fork in her hoof, Tempest cut a bit off the cupcake and ate it. It was incredibly sweet, almost overbearingly so, and yet it was the most delicious thing she had eaten in weeks, so she quickly took another bite.
Meanwhile, Pinkie chattered on. “It’s gotta be fun, seeing all the ponies and creatures in Equestria and being all ‘guess what, everycreature, the Storm King is gone because I sent him cracking’. Get it? Because usually the phrase is ‘sent him packing’ but he turned to stone and shattered against the ground like boooom, so he was cracking.” She gigglesnorted at her own joke.
Tempest’s ears lowered. Maybe if she left now she could make it to the next town over before it got too dark (and while she still had functioning ears).
Thankfully, an interruption came in the form of Twilight Sparkle. “Tempest!” she said, running up to give her a hug, one Tempest returned with only slight hesitation. “It’s so good to see you again!”
“Yeah,” Tempest said, starting to feel a little overwhelmed again. “I wasn’t planning on staying for long.”
“Right,” Twilight said, sounding a little bit disappointed but remaining cheerful. “You’ve got your mission.” She brightened. “But you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There’s plenty of room at the castle.”
She looked so earnest that Tempest felt bad turning her down outright. Maybe one night wouldn’t be so bad. “Fine. But I want to pick my room.”
Later that night, all of Twilight’s friends were in the castle. Pinkie had insisted that it wasn’t a party, but Tempest knew a party when she saw one. It was such a pony thing to do. She probably would have found it sickening, were she not currently eating something delicious that Applejack had brought.
“What are these, and what is in them?” she asked as she picked up another.
“Love,” Applejack answered simply.
Tempest gave her a flat look.
“And about three sticks of butter,” she amended.
Tempest looked back at the fritter with suspicious eyes, then decided it was worth it and shoved it into her mouth.
As she turned back to the table and reached for another, something was on the table that wasn’t before. Her horn sparked instinctively.
The owl blinked nonchalantly.
An owl. Inside. She didn’t think most ponies kept owls as pets, not that she had much experience in that regard. “Shoo,” she said, waving a hoof.
The owl looked thoroughly unimpressed. “Hoo?”
“You,” Tempest said. “Go away.”
The owl flapped his wings and began to fly away, but much to Tempest’s surprise, he landed on her head. Her eyes widened as she tried to comprehend the audacity of this overgrown pillow.
Seemingly incognizant of the danger he’d just put himself in, he settled in her mane. “Hoo,” he said contentedly.
Her horn sparked as she prepared to forcibly remove him, but before she got that far, Fluttershy noticed and gasped. “Aw, Tempest! You made a friend!”
Sensing that she would not like it if she were to turn him into a pile of ash and feathers, Tempest let her horn glow fade. “I’m… flattered,” she said uncertainly.
Spike chuckled knowingly. Apparently, he and the owl had had history.
“Owlowiscious,” Twilight chided. “Maybe get to know somepony before using her head as a perch?”
“Hoo,” the owl seemingly conceded, and flew back over to the table.
Tempest gave him a sideways look.
Twilight neared and picked up a fritter of her own. She looked at Tempest wryly. “Three sticks of butter,” she said, before taking a bite.
Tempest had to crack a smile. It was a little bit like an inside joke, maybe? She thought she liked that.
“You’re welcome to stay for a while,” Twilight offered. “If you’d like, you could even pick up some classes at the School of Friendship, once the semester starts up again. I’m sure we could find a class you’d enjoy teaching.”
“Ok,” Tempest said. “What does your current hoof-to-hoof combat curriculum look like?”
Twilight laughed before realizing that Tempest wasn’t. “Uh, that… I mean…”
Tempest maintained her blank expression for a brief moment before snickering. She began to laugh, and Twilight realized she’d been teasing her, and she quickly joined in.
The bed had been nice. Too nice. Tempest was used to roughing it, sleeping on the grass or under a tree like the ponies of old. It was… comfortable. It almost felt like something was wrong.
This is why she was outside, punching one of the trees. It was something familiar, it hurt a little bit, and it made her feel better.
“Hoo?”
Tempest turned to see the owl looking at her. “Don’t tell me,” she said flatly. “This is your tree?”
“Hoo.”
Tempest frowned and turned back to the tree. “I don’t know why I asked,” she muttered. “I don’t speak bird.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest returned to the castle and made it to the kitchen. Breakfast looked like it was going to be a simpler affair, pancakes topped with strawberries.
At least, until the door burst open. “Good morning from the Great and Powerful Trixie!” the unicorn there announced.
Tempest set down the butter knife she had been prepared to throw. Her eyes flicked over her and she quickly drew her conclusions. Flashy, loud, probably enjoyed hearing herself talk more than anything else.
And she was right.
Tempest leaned down to Spike. “How much trouble will I get in if I stuff her in a toilet?” she asked.
“Depends on who catches you,” Spike answered cheekily. “I won’t say a word.”
She glanced over and saw the owl. He gave her a narrow look.
Well, he would.
Tempest looked out at the road. Here wasn’t… bad , it was just… a lot. And part of her did feel a little bit bad skipping out already, but not bad enough to stay.
Applejack came galloping up. “Hey, Tempest,” she said breathlessly. “You know where you’re going yet?”
“Wherever the road takes me, I guess,” Tempest answered.
“If you’re not headed anywhere in particular, think you could do me the mother of all favors and make a delivery for me?”
“Sure. Where’s the airship?”
“Ha,” Applejack said. “Turns out there’s a village of bat ponies, in the mountains past the fire swamp.”
“Oh, bat ponies,” Tempest said, holding her hoof up to her ear to emulate their tufted ears. “They’re sensitive to loud sounds. They get very disoriented.”
There was a brief pause.
“I’m gonna pretend that’s just common knowledge and continue,” Applejack said. “We did a Hearth’s Warming fundraiser with our pies, and a whole bushel of our bat pony students took orders, and I didn’t realize Hollow Shades and Hollow Spires were two different villages. We already made the stuff, just need somepony to take it over.”
An excuse to leave, and also be helpful? Perfect. “Sure,” Tempest said.
“Oh, you’re a lifesaver,” Applejack said, relieved.
Tempest regretted her words when she saw the cart she would be pulling. It had a green and white striped roof and a pie bouncing jauntily on a spring on top, and then somepony had even hung festive streamers along the side. Tempest’s lip curled subconsciously. It was cute, and she hated it already.
“I really appreciate you doing this,” Applejack said, not noticing her disgust. She lifted one of the doors to show her a basket clearly overflowing with food. “I threw in a bushel of snacks for you, too, just as a thank you.”
Tempest nodded, subconsciously licking her lips. That was acceptable.
“And here’s the map.”
Tempest’s eyes scanned over it. “Forest, fire swamp, mountain, cross the bridge, caves, drop off pies. Easy enough.” Now she had a mission with an end goal (and a lot of snacks). She was feeling good about this.
Then the owl landed on top of the cart. “Hoo.”
Good feeling gone.
“Heh,” Applejack said. “I think he wants to come with you.”
“I don’t need a foalsitter,” Tempest said flatly. “Begone, bird.”
“Hoo?”
“You.”
“Hoo?”
“Don’t play this game,” Tempest said firmly, giving him a dark glower. “You are not coming with me and that is final.”
Twilight waved. “Bye, Tempest! Bye, Owlowiscious!”
Tempest sighed and looked up at the owl perched on the pie. “Just don’t slow me down,” she said.
“Hoo.”
Tempest walked through the forest. She knew of places like this, spoken of in whispers by the other ponies. Strange places where the weather handled itself without a pegasus to guide it, where the plants grew without the help of an earth pony to tend them, where animals fended for themselves.
Or, as Tempest liked to call it, how literally the entire rest of the world worked.
So it was with casual indifference to the forest that she walked. The cart rolled behind her, moving surprisingly smoothly for being a wooden cart. She almost wished it didn’t, so she could get more of a workout in, but she decided against breaking one of the wheels, since she needed to deliver these pies in one piece.
But other than that, it wasn’t so bad. It was good to get some time to herself.
“Hoo.”
Well, mostly herself. She turned to glare at the owl. “You can fly back,” she offered, pointing back towards Ponyville.
“Hoo.”
“Y- No. We’re not doing that.” She started walking faster.
But of course, an owl can fly faster than a pony pulling a cart can walk, so when she looked up again, he was there, watching from a tree limb ahead of her, and high out of reach. Tempest glared in his direction and kept walking steadily. She would not let the owl get to her.
Tempest glowered. The owl was getting to her. She’d made it past the forest and into the swamp, but her teeth grinded against each other.
Finally, she stopped and turned to face him. “Why are you like this?”
“Hoo.”
“Did Twilight put you up to this?”
“Hoo.”
“Hoo,” Tempest retorted, frustrated.
“Hoo.”
“Hoo!”
“Hoo.”
Tempest’s horn sparked again. “Hoo yourself, you-!”
A burst of fire startled them. Both looked over at the spot that had exploded, still smoking. It occurred to Tempest that keeping still was just asking for the pies (and possibly her) to be delivered extra crispy. “We should keep moving.”
“Hoo,” he agreed.
“Don’t.”
Tempest slowed slightly. Something seemed… off, somehow. What was it? Was it too quiet? Her ears swiveled, but she didn’t notice anything immediately. But somehow the swamp seemed… darker? Foggier?
She glanced at the owl. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with this?”
“Hoo,” he responded.
Assuming that was a ‘no’, she kept walking. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you.”
“Hoo.”
“You’ve been nothing but a pain in my flank this whole time.”
“Hoo.”
She knew she was talking more, and worse, she knew why. For some reason, she was feeling vaguely unsettled. She knew she was able to hold her own in a fight, with anything this swamp could throw at her. The fire flare-ups were easy to hear, so they were also easy to avoid.
So why was she feeling so uncomfortable?
Her eyes flicked up to her broken horn. What magic did she not have access to? She couldn’t cast any scanning spells. She couldn’t even do a basic lighting spell.
She supposed she could blow up a tree, but that would really draw the attention of everything in here.
Maybe it was just too quiet?
She turned her attention back to the owl. “Why did you come, anyway?”
“Hoo.”
“Do you have owl friends that live out here?”
“Hoo.”
“Do you have many friends? Maybe a bunch of owl friends. What’s a group of owls? A flock? A court?”
“Hoo.”
“Yeah. You can just sit there going ‘hoo, hoo’ at each other, like it means something.”
“Hoooo.”
That wasn’t his normal hooting.
Tempest glanced over her shoulder, and he was looking over into the fog. She stopped and turned, ears pricked, keenly aware that the owl had better vision than she.
A hulking shadow formed. One, then two, then three pairs of eyes shone in the low light.
“What have we here?” a low voice asked as they… no, she stepped into view. The tiger head leered at her through the smoke.
“You’re not like the other ponies we’ve seen with the cart,” the goat head said.
“And you look quite unprepared to deal with us,” the snake tail added.
“Stay where you are,” the tiger head said. “I prefer my meals… fresh.”
A little smile flickered across Tempest’s face. “I don’t know what kind of story you think you’re in,” she said as she slipped out of the harness, “but let me tell you, I am not like any of the other little ponies you’ve seen.” A little smile spread across her face. “I’ve got more of a… kick to me.”
Tempest leaned against the cart, snacking on the candied almonds Applejack had packed for her. They crunched pleasingly between her teeth. That had made her feel better. Being able to stretch her legs like that had been good .
Owlowiscious looked down from atop the cart. “Hoo.”
Tempest scoffed. “I’m fine,” she said. She glanced at her shoulder and wiped it off. “None of that’s mine.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest looked over the top of the almond at him. “Don’t look at me like that. They were going to eat me. And you.”
“Hoo.”
“Oh yes, they would have.” Her eyes narrowed. “Am I understanding you?”
“Hoo,” he said with an owlly shrug.
Tempest rolled her eyes and selected another almond.
“Hoo.”
“Like I said,” Tempest said, looking a little more intensely at the bag than she probably needed to, “I’m not like other ponies.”
“Hoo?”
“When I got this,” she said, gesturing at her scar and broken horn.
“Hoo,” he invited.
“No. I’m not telling that story.”
“Hoo.”
“It’s not important,” she said, crunching the next almond louder than necessary.
“Hoo,” he floated.
She popped the rest of the almonds into her mouth. “We should keep moving,” she said with her mouth full. She ducked back into the harness and a tiny part of her hoped he would remain behind.
But of course, she saw him flying overhead. She grunted and kept walking.
Tempest checked the map again. It looked like she was in the right place. She could see the mountain, and the bridge she needed to cross, but she wasn’t sure how to get up there. She certainly couldn’t pull the cart up the sheer rock face. It was a little windy, but at least there wasn’t snow on the ground. “It’s got to be around here somewhere,” she grumbled.
“Hoo.”
She turned to see Owlowiscious perched on a post, old and overgrown with moss. It took her a second to realize it wasn’t a dead tree, and then another to see the rope behind it. It was almost invisible among the plants and the rock face.
“Thanks,” she muttered as she started to ascend.
Before long, she made it to the top of the mountain and looked over at the rope bridge connecting the two mountains.
He hovered over the bridge. “Hoo,” he said, as if muttering under his breath.
“I agree,” Tempest said flatly as she gave the bridge a disgusted look. “But the only other option is to go down into that valley there, walk through that forest, and then find a spot to climb back up way over there, so I’m going to risk it.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest scoffed.
“Hoo,” he repeated.
“Well, if it bothers you so much, grab the back of the cart and flap your wings.”
“Hoo,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Tempest checked the cart one more time, and then started across the bridge. She could hear the creaking of the boards and the whining of the ropes as they strained under the weight. She wanted to speed up, but she knew she had to move steadily. Any sudden movement could snap a rope and unravel the whole bridge which would send her and the pies hurtling to the rocky ground far below and now was a really, really good time to not look down …
“Hoo.”
“Not helping!” Tempest spat, doing her best to maintain a slow movement.
She heard the ‘twang’ of a rope fiber snapping, and she inhaled sharply. Halfway across. She could do this. She just had to keep moving, though she did find herself moving a little faster now and could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She could fight just about anything living, but gravity couldn’t be punched in the face, and she was painfully cognizant of this fact right now.
There was another soft twang, and then another, and then the next thing she knew, her hoof had broken through a board. Tempest let out a startled whinny, but fear gave her strength. Abandoning all sense of carefulness, she pushed off the board she still had her footing on and scrambled for the mountain on the other side. The bridge unfrayed beneath her and she felt it disintegrate, but her hooves gained just enough traction to make it across and pull herself and the cart onto the mossy ground right before the bridge collapsed.
Tempest turned around and watched it fall behind her. It took longer than she would have expected for it to finally hit the ground. She muttered a word that she had never heard spoken by another pony. That was going to make getting back a pain and a half.
Still. One problem at a time. She checked the pies and was relieved to see that they had survived unscathed. Silently grateful for Applejack’s fastidiousness in packing, she took a step back and sank to her haunches. Now that it was over, thoughts of how close she had come to death flashed through her mind. All those years, and she’d still never…
“Hoo.”
She turned to fix the deadliest death glare she could on Owlowiscious, because she really did not need his input right now; but to her surprise, he was holding out the bag of treats Applejack had packed.
Part of her—a big part—had no desire to show any weakness in front of anything, even a bird, let alone a bird she didn’t particularly care for.
“Hoo,” he said easily.
She glanced at it and cracked a smile in spite of the situation. “Three sticks of butter,” she repeated.
“Hoo?”
Tempest shook her head and finished the rest of the fritter.
Tempest Shadow walked along the rocky path. On one side, a sheer mountain face. On the other, also a sheer mountain face, but going down. The path was narrower here, and the rocks shifted a little under the wheels, but at least it wasn’t a bridge. If there was a bright side to that whole experience, it was not having to cross it again.
The trail suddenly turned to the left, but it didn’t just turn left; it also turned upwards. She slowed to a stop and scowled at it.
“Hoo.”
“I know,” Tempest said irritably, and she kept walking. No wonder it was only bat ponies here. No sane pony would do this daily.
The path soon leveled out again, and then she was there. She knew this because the mountain face was just gone, like some giant pony had taken an ice cream scoop and carved out a hole in the rock.
She pursed her lips, her mind already spinning possibilities. The caves provided natural shelter, and would be impervious to attack from above. She would need to come from below, and attack in the morning, when the sun was still high. A small flashbang thrown near the bottom would be enough to startle them. The cave would reverberate the noise, which would drive them out into the light, leaving them blinded, disoriented, and easy pickings.
You know, if she ever did need to invade Hollow Spires. Merely a purely theoretical line of thinking, of course.
Tempest shook that off and then looked into the cave.
The cave.
The little filly Fizzlepop Berrytwist looked into the cave. With an eye roll at her fearful friend and without a further thought, she bounded in, looking for the ball that had bounced in here, ignorant of the danger that lurked in the shadows.
Tempest flinched, instinctively taking a step back. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breath came raggedly.
“Hoo?” Owlowiscious asked.
“Not right now,” she warned him through gritted teeth. She’d come this far, but this last little bit was stopping her in her tracks, and she hated it. She was a grown mare! She wasn’t that little foal.
So why couldn’t she take another step?
She forced herself to look up and took a slight step back in horror. Stars?!
But then she realized they weren't the stars of an ursa. They were eyes .
And they may not have recognized her specifically, but they did recognize the cart.
One little colt flew out with a joyous “Eee!”, and like a spell had been broken, a whole colony of bat ponies swarmed her. Tempest squawked a protest, but it was ignored as they surrounded her, flying around her, cheering her arrival. Foals grabbed her legs in anticipation for the wares she brought, their hind legs bouncing as they were unable to contain their excitement.
And as unnerved as Tempest was, she had to admit, it was a little nice to be so easily welcomed, even if personal space didn’t seem to be a thing bat ponies observed. “Alright, alright,” she said, lifting a hoof, hoping they’d understand. “If you want the pies, you have to let me get them.”
They started to settle down, though most were still dancing or bouncing in place. As she unhitched herself and glanced around, she observed that they were looking at her, and at her horn. The scar over her right eye didn’t seem to be drawing their attention.
Actually, now that she noticed it, she wasn’t the only one with a scar or two. There were a couple clipped ears, a few scars on legs, at least one mare was missing most of her tail, and one of the colts had a mark on his ribs visible when he raised his wings.
And while her broken horn was still a focus, it took her a moment to realize that something was different. They were looking at it, sure; but it wasn’t with horror, no wincing, no cringing, or worst of all, pity. More curiosity.
Of course. Being a colony of bat ponies, they wouldn’t have had any frame of reference for a unicorn.
Part of her enjoyed knowing that she would be able to walk among the-
Walk. Right. No wings. So she’d be different here, too.
Well, no time to think about that. She raised her hoof and opened one of the compartments to begin redistributing pies.
Applejack may have had apples on the brain, but she was organized. Names and pie orders were written out with rough but legible mouthwriting, and the perfectly packed pies had survived the journey (and near-fall) with nary a crack in the crust.
Effective.
A part of her wondered how well she’d do with wartime logistics. Maybe not pies, though. Those would be hard to transport. What else could you make from apples? Maybe applesauce? That could work. Put it in cans or something. That’d last forever and be easy to haul.
One of the colts who got his pie took a big bite. His eyes widened as the flavors washed over his tongue. There was a flash of light, and a cutie mark appeared on his flank. He screeched in excitement, spinning around, though he made sure to keep a firm grip on the pie.
Tempest paused, the next pie she was holding for distribution still frozen in midair. Just like that, he’d figured out his place in the world; and there she was, still lost after all these years. Didn’t seem quite fair.
A soft “hoo” from Owlowiscious made her look back, and realized that the bat pony that this pie was for was still looking hopefully at the pie in her hooves, his eyes flicking back and forth between her and the pie, and she quickly gave it over.
A few of the other bat pony colts swooped in to celebrate and give him a congratulatory hoofbump. Tempest shook her head and checked the list for the next pony.
Later that night, Tempest looked around. She had never thought she’d be spending Hearth's Warming Eve with bat ponies surrounding a fire, and yet here she was.
One of the older ponies had told the pageant story, and now it was time for feasting. The pies that had not been devoured on arrival were scattered around, mingled with traditional bat pony cuisine. Their sharp little fangs made short work of strange fruits she’d never seen before.
As Tempest snacked on one of the extra pies Applejack had packed for her, she watched. The bat ponies didn’t seem to care much for personal space among themselves, either. Her eyes were drawn to the colt who had just gotten his cutie mark, who was still proudly showing it off.
“Just watch out for the chupamarca!” another warned playfully.
Tempest paused. “The what, now?” she asked.
Another young bat pony, a blank flank clearly trying to get his cutie mark in storytelling, quickly flew in front of them. “You mean you don’t know?” he started, his tone low as if ready to share a terrible secret.
The effect was somewhat mitigated by the fact that his voice was still the high, squeaky voice of a young colt, but Tempest watched with mild interest as some of the other bat ponies gathered around, many eating their pies like popcorn as he began.
“The chupamarca is a terrifying beast, but not for why you’d think. She looks just like a pony, but she has no wings.”
“That makes sense,” Tempest mused. “Ponies are the real monsters in this world.”
The bat pony stallion next to her gave her a sideways look and scooted ever so slightly away.
“So she walks along the ground, in search of her next meal. But she doesn’t eat fruit like we ponies do, oh no! No. She feeds on… cutie marks.”
“Cutie marks?” a fearful filly asked, shifting her wings back to cover her flanks.
“You can’t eat a cutie mark,” another colt offered disdainfully.
“A chupamarca can,” he said earnestly. “She roams the forest floor, in search of a pony who’s not paying enough attention. When she catches you, she’ll drink… your cutie mark. Slurrrrrp ! No more special talent. No more cutie mark. Your flank is blank once again.”
Some of the smaller ponies gasped. Tempest rolled her eyes.
“In fact,” he continued, looking around, “she’s here, now, lurking on the forest floor, searching. Watching. Waiting. And she is hungry. And the next cutie mark she’s going to get is…” Like a snake striking, he leaned over and grabbed the pony next to him and shrieked, “yours !”
The foals screamed and scattered, some flying away, some running, but all holding their pies tightly.
He quickly checked his flank, but no mark had appeared. He scuffed a hoof in disappointment.
Tempest chuckled.
It turned out bat ponies liked telling stories. Other bat ponies offered their own stories of forest monsters that lurked in the day. Tempest nodded along politely, but after some of the things she’d seen, nothing they had was scary. Finally, one told a happier story, and the mood shifted.
“How about you?” another bat pony said, looking at Tempest and noticing her boredom. “What stories do you have?”
She glanced over.
Owlowiscious was watching from the top of the cart.
She smiled wryly, then turned back to the group. This was a familiar story. “Tell me, have you ever heard of the Storm King?”
The bat pony hovered in the air as he looked over the edge of the cliff. “Yep. That bridge is beyond repair.”
Tempest gave him a flat look. Genius. She looked at Owlowiscious, who somehow seemed to snarkily agree without even saying a word.
“Sorry,” he said. “We don’t get many land visitors. That bridge was old when I was a colt. We’ll get started on repairs right away. Let’s see, we’ll need to weave a rope, maybe two…”
“Wait. You don’t have any spare rope?” Tempest asked incredulously.
“None that long,” he said. “We don’t get many land visitors.”
“I’m sensing a theme here,” Tempest grumbled. “How long will that take?” She suddenly realized that that had come out a bit more like old Tempest than she’d meant it to. “Uh, please,” she added. That was something ponies said, right?
“Hoo,” said Owlowiscious, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.
She shot him a quick glare and looked back.
“Shouldn’t take too long. Once we find somepony who knows how to weave, I mean.”
Tempest’s eyes widened at those implications, and then narrowed. “Yeah, no. I’m walking.” She turned to Owlowiscious. “You coming, Feathers?”
“Hoo.”
“Alright.”
With slow, methodical steps, Tempest slowly descended the least-steepest side down the mountain. The little rocks slid under her hooves, as she walked backwards to maintain her balance.
Soon, the slope gentled further, and the rocks turned to dirt. She’d made it back to the forest floor, and she’d kept the cart steady the whole way down.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious said from his position hovering to the side.
“Thanks,” Tempest said, trying to not show how the compliment had pleased her. She looked around. There wasn’t much snow here, either, but that was the extent of the good news. The trees of the forest blocked a majority of the sunlight (which is where any snow that did fall ended up), giving the forest a dismal feel. The lack of terrestrial ponies meant no trails, only animal paths and natural erosion.
Still, Tempest was not about to turn back now. With a defiant smirk at the forest, she oriented herself and started walking. Owlowiscious flew along beside her. His flight was very silent. Good for sneak attacks. She preferred a show of force, but stealth did occasionally have some advantages.
But now wasn’t one of those times.
“Do you know any marching songs?” she asked.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious said, almost like he was chuckling.
“Yeah, me neither,” Tempest admitted. “The Storm King wasn’t really big on songs. Or happiness. Or anything but power, really.”
“Hoo,” he said darkly.
“Yeah, no real loss there,” she said, remembering the stone shards at the base of the mountain. She’d refused to believe until she’d examined them for herself.
“Hoo?”
“I know now ,” she said, her eyes flicking up towards her broken horn. “In my defense, I didn’t know much about magic. I still don’t, honestly. Any spell I try goes boom.”
“Hoo?”
Tempest nearly missed a step. “I… don’t like to think about that,” she said softly.
“Hoo,” he said, just as softly.
“Not your fault,” Tempest said, feeling more amicable than she would have thought towards the owl and his line of questioning. “I mean, you spend your time with probably the most powerful magic-caster in Equestria. I guess that’s a natural question.”
“Hoo.”
“Both?” Tempest said. She scoffed. “You’d better not be talking about that azure annoyance Trixie.”
“Hoo.”
“Starlight? Huh. Why isn’t she a princess, then?”
“Hoo.”
Tempest jerked to a stop. “Time travel doesn’t count as new magic?” she repeated incredulously. “There’s definitely a story there.”
“Hoo,” he said.
“Cheater,” she said, and she kept walking. ‘Not my story to tell’, what a load. “Still, time travel. Sounds like that could get messy. Better start with something safer, like cutie marks,” she said with a little smirk.
There was no answering ‘hoo’.
She turned to look at him, and he deliberately swiveled his head to look away.
“We will come back to that later,” Tempest said pointedly.
But any thought of cutie mark magic vanished with the light. She walked further through the forest, which seemed to grow darker and darker with every step, though it was likely close to late morning at latest. Her eyes kept flicking from side to side.
In the Everfree Forest, she was unsettled. Here, though, something was wrong . It was unnaturally quiet. Her tail flicked subconsciously, and her ears swiveled.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious murmured.
“I don’t like it, either,” she admitted softly. It wasn’t that she was being watched, though that might have been true. It was dark. But she could handle that. Something here just felt wrong. She wished she had a better word for it.
She heard something behind her. She stopped and turned around, daring whatever it was to move again.
There were no further sounds. She waited a bit longer, just to be sure, then kept walking.
“Hoo?” he asked.
“What? Why would I be afraid of a story?”
“Hoo,” he said with a shrug.
“I know most legends have some basis in fact, but I think ponies would know about a monster who eats cutie marks.”
“Hoo.”
“‘Drinks’, fine,” Tempest corrected herself irritably. “My point still stands.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest huffed. “I know all about pony history,” she said.
“Hoo,” he pointed out.
“I was old enough to make it on my own,” Tempest said.
“Hoo.”
Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Point,” she conceded, and she lapsed into silence as she kept walking.
Crack .
She spun around. Her eyes scanned the forest, looking for any motion, but she saw nothing. “You heard that, right?”
“Hoo.”
Tempest looked sideways at him. She’d heard it clearly. “How good is owls’ hearing?”
“Hoo.”
“I… don’t know how to quantify that,” Tempest admitted. She gave the forest one more narrow look and slowly started walking again.
Owlowiscious returned from a brief flight, his wings making no sound as he returned and landed on the top of the cart. “Hoo.”
“You’re still thinking about that?” Tempest said, grateful for the distraction even if she didn’t want to show it. “Even if a chupamarca did exist—and I don’t think they do—owls can’t even get cutie marks. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Hoo.”
She gave him a sideways look. “No? I don’t know how they’d reproduce. I don’t even know how the storm creatures I led reproduce.” She smiled wryly. “I kinda figured they hatched.”
“Hoo.”
“I guess,” Tempest floated. “But how long does it take owls to learn to fly?”
“Hoo.”
“And ponies can walk within a day, so, you tell me.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest chuckled amicably, but her smile soon faded. She glanced around. Something still felt off.
A rustle in the underbrush made her look over. She glared at the area it had come from, but then heard nothing further.
“Hoo?”
“You didn’t hear that?” Tempest said, still looking for any sign of movement.
“Hoo.”
Tempest glowered at nothing in particular. She had definitely heard something, and it was a little frustrating being the only sane one here.
“Hoo?”
“No,” she said shortly, and walked a little faster.
A few minutes later, he took off, but shortly returned. “Hoo,” he said, facing a different direction.
She looked up at the sky. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I’m going the right way.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest exhaled. A cliff did not sound good. He didn’t have any reason to lie to her (after all, if he really wanted her lost, nothing was stopping him from just flying away and leaving her), but for some reason, she wasn’t sure she wanted to take everything he said at face value. This forest felt like it was crowding around her, almost suffocating somehow. The walk over the bridge hadn’t cut out this much of her journey, had it? “I don’t really feel like studying geology,” she said, trying to make light of the situation, and she turned the direction he was facing.
“Hoo.”
“Of course that’s a thing,” Tempest said. “What other classes does the School of Friendship offer, proper hugging technique?”
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious confirmed.
Tempest burst out laughing, but before she could crack another joke, a flash of motion behind her made her stop. She lit her horn, magic crackling in the air. “I know you’re there,” she said, keeping her voice airy. “Come on out. I just want to talk.”
“Hoo?” Owlowiscious asked.
Tempest didn’t answer, still focused on whatever it was.
But there was no sound, no movement. Nothing but the wind rustling the trees.
“Hoo?” Owlowiscious pressed gently.
“I know I saw something,” she insisted.
“Hoo,” he said disarmingly.
Not that it helped Tempest’s mood. “I didn’t miss that much sleep,” she said.
“Hoo.”
“Well, that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all afternoon,” Tempest said, knowing she sounded snippy but unable to suppress it. She turned around to open the hatch with her snacks in it. She picked up the bag and realized that it was empty. She’d eaten everything.
Huh , she mused irritably, turning the bag upside-down just in case one of the almonds had gotten stuck at the bottom but finding it still empty. Maybe this is a horror story .
Tempest glanced up at the sky. Why did it feel like she was going in circles? Why was she still in this forest?
And what else was in here-?
She turned and fired a blast of magic. The tree exploded, sending wood chunks and splinters flying. She bared her teeth in challenge, and she scuffed a hoof on the ground.
But again, nothing was there. The only sound was the leaves and wooden debris falling to the ground.
There was a flurry of movement behind her. “Hoo,” Owlowiscious said indignantly.
“I knew it wasn’t you,” Tempest said dismissively. “Your wings are silent and I heard something.”
“Hoo.”
“I did,” Tempest insisted.
“Hoo?”
“I’m not being paranoid,” Tempest said through gritted teeth.
“Hoo.”
Tempest scowled. “You’re not helping,” she said.
“Hoo.”
“Yes, there is !”
“Hoo.”
“Don’t patronize me!” Tempest roared, her stress and frustration finally coming to a head. “I am not one of your weak little pony friends who needs my hoof held every time something remotely startling happens! I have seen things and done things you and your sheltered little friends couldn’t even dream of! And you think I’m overreacting?”
“Hoo,” he said, his voice low and calming.
And somehow, that made her angrier. Tempest knew that that hadn’t been what he’d said, but she was too furious to acknowledge that. She called up her magic to her horn again. Sparks flew, bathing the forest in unnatural light. “Go. Away,” she said.
Owlowiscious blinked at her, and then flew away, disappearing into the forest.
Tempest watched him go.
Tempest glowered at nothing as she kept walking. She regretted snapping at Owlowiscious. He hadn’t said anything bad, not really. This had all been her fault. She was stressed and she’d taken it out on him, and now she was on her own.
And regardless of what she’d sung to Twilight that one time, she wasn’t liking being alone. Every little sound made her ears twitch, and her tail was flicking nearly nonstop. And now everything smelled like smoke.
She sniffed. It really did smell like smoke. What-?
Oh, the fire swamp! She was getting close!
She turned to look at Owlowiscious, and her proud smirk faded. He was still gone. She shook her head and kept walking.
It took her a moment to realize that not all of the rocks crunching underhoof were hers. She called up magic to her horn. It exploded, sending magic crackling through the air and exploding another tree.
Her chest heaved as wooden fragments rained down. Something had been there, right? She wasn’t-?
And then she felt motion behind her.
She lashed out with a hind leg and made contact. She felt a flash of vindication, but it didn’t last. Whatever she hit didn’t feel like a pony. It felt like she was kicking a bundle of sticks wrapped in a burlap bag.
But whatever it was, it definitely looked like a pony sliding away. It looked up, its face covered with its hood. “You’re the most fun I’ve had in a long time,” it said, its voice scratchy as if from disuse. “Nopony else notices at first. Your talent must be something special.”
Tempest quickly ducked out of the harness, her smirk back on her face. This was something she knew. “I’ve got many,” she said lightly. “I’ll tell you later. If you’re still conscious, I mean.”
The other creature faked going one way, then quickly darted the other, moving much faster than looked possible.
Tempest glanced around, taking in the battlefield. Too many trees, too many branches, too crowded. Her aerial techniques would do her no good here. She was out of her element.
And in the time it took her to process this, she felt a sharp pain along her side. It was running away into the bushes. Tempest growled and fired another blast of magic, turning the dark forest into day.
But whatever plant she actually hit burst into flames, bright green and searing, and filling the air with an acrid smell. Tempest cried out and covered her eyes.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the specter chided from behind. “Be careful where you’re pointing that thing.”
And Tempest felt another sharp pain along her side. She looked down and saw a small strip hanging down.
It was tearing off her traveling cloak!
Tempest snarled. Not that she particularly cared for this cloak, but that had felt unmistakably personal. She leaped off the ground, pushed off a tree, and swung.
It seemingly melted into the shadows, and her hoof impacted a tree. At the same time, she took another hoof right to the ribs. Tempest fell to one knee, grimacing. She was fighting this pony and the forest at the same time. She could adjust her fighting style, but she was taking more hits than she was liking.
And then she saw a flash of brown.
“Owlowiscious!” Tempest nearly cheered.
Owlowiscious may have been friendly, but an owl is still a hunter. He swooped down, talons outstretched, and raked the figure’s hood. It cried out in surprise.
That little distraction was all Tempest needed. She charged forward, rearing up, and slammed her hooves down on top, making a harsh crunch. It quickly spun, lashing out with something that seemed like a hoof but was sharp against Tempest’s barrel. Tempest, riding too high on her success to acknowledge this, delivered a punishing headbutt with her horn. It scampered back, quickly pressing against a tree so Owlowiscious couldn’t get another clean hit, and lashed out again, catching Tempest in the cheek.
Tempest winced at the metallic taste in her mouth. She wiped quickly and realized that the wetness didn’t return—it wasn’t hers. A little smirk flickered across her face. “If you can bleed, you can die.”
Yellowed teeth flashed under the threadbare cloak.
Tempest scuffed a hoof on the ground, her lips curled to bare her own, her confidence restored.
It was good to be her.
Owlowicious flew through the air, wings pumping furiously.
His target soon came into sight. Fluttershy looked up. “Why, hello-“
“Hoo!”
Fluttershy gasped. Her eyes narrowed as her wings flared. “Take me there.”
Owl feathers are designed for silent flight, not extended flight, so Fluttershy let the exhausted Owlowiscious ride on her back as he guided her through the forest. He didn’t even need to make any sounds. Just leaning to one side or the other was enough for her to understand his directions.
Before long, a familiar green and white cart came into view, with a purple unicorn resting against it and a pie on a spring bouncing gently above it.
“Tempest? Are you alright?”
“Fluttershy,” Tempest said coolly, quickly pushing herself up. “I’m fine.”
Fluttershy’s eyes widened. “Is that… blood ? Is it yours?” she asked, her voice raising into a squeak.
Tempest stood tall and did her best to maintain her aloof composure. “Mine?” she chuckled. “Don’t be a silly little pony. I’m…”
And then her eyes rolled back in her head, her legs abruptly gave out, and she collapsed flat on her face.
Tempest’s eyes flickered open. She realized she was no longer in the forest, which was comforting. Instead, she was on a couch, wrapped in a blanket. She looked around, trying to recognize where exactly she was. Her head hurt. She was thirsty.
Another rustling made her look over—and quickly regret the motion. She let out a soft grunt of pain.
Thankfully, this rustling was from a familiar and friendly face. “Tempest,” Fluttershy said, hurrying over. She brought a steaming cup over. “Here. Carrot soup. It’ll make you feel better.”
Tempest gratefully took the cup and raised it to her lips. She took a small sip and grimaced. It was not good. Maybe she had used old carrots. Still, she didn’t want to be rude, so she forced herself to swallow. “How did you find me?”
“Owlowiscious got me. He came just in time.”
“I’ll have to thank him,” Tempest said. She was still thirsty, and this carrot soup wasn’t doing it for her, but she gamely took another sip.
“He’s napping. Owl feathers are designed for silent flight, not endurance.” Fluttershy smiled, but it faded slightly. “I took your cloak off,” she continued. “It was covered in blood. I hope you don’t mind.”
“But blood’s my favorite pants,” Tempest said, trying to crack a joke but knowing it had come out wrong. That hadn’t even been funny in her head.
Fluttershy gave her a courtesy smile anyway, and then looked down. “I’m not a great seamstress, but maybe Rarity can help repair it.”
“I’m not too worried about it,” Tempest said.
She fidgeted. “Um, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but, when I took your cloak off, I noticed your flank.”
“Mm,” Tempest said.
Fluttershy licked her lips and looked down, clearly uncertain how to proceed.
Tempest let her stew for a bit before chuckling. “Yep. Blank flank,” she confirmed, taking another small sip and wincing at the rancid flavor. “I… I never got my cutie mark.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Fluttershy said gently.
Tempest’s eyes flicked over to Fluttershy’s flank. Three butterflies. “Yeah,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me.” She set the still-full cup down, her eyes still drawn to the butterflies. Those looked really nice.
“I understand,” Fluttershy said. “It’s important to be happy with yourself, no matter what you have on your flank. But if you ever did want to give it a try, my friends the Cutie Mark Crusaders would be more than happy to help you discover your talent. It’s fascinating. They all have nearly identical cutie marks. We’d never seen anything like it.”
That was all well and good, but that butterfly cutie mark was really, really interesting. “I’ll consider it,” she said, her tongue flicking out subconsciously.
“Well, I think you’re very talented, regardless of what’s on your flank,” Fluttershy said, busying herself with a little tidying. “And very kind, too. That was a long trip for ponies you don’t even know.”
Tempest pushed herself up off the couch, the blanket falling behind her.
Fluttershy heard her get up. She looked over her shoulder. “Tempest, you shouldn’t be up yet,” she said chidingly. “You’re still…” Her voice trailed off. “Tempest? Tempest, what are you-?” She took a step back. “Tempest, you’re scaring me. Tempest? Temp-!”