Dreamwalker's Tale: Project Greenwood

His legs were weak and wobbly, but that was more or less normal these days. He could always tell when his hunger got really bad, because his stomach would not stop growling at him even as the adrenaline of the chase kicked in.

His pale, light-blue mane whipped in the wind, flung around by the occasional collision with low-hanging branches. Sweat dampened his coat in a futile attempt to cool his body. Twigs snapped beneath his hooves. The pitch-black woods around him were eerily silent. Forests should never be silent at night. Or at day, or ever. He knew that. It only further creeped him out.

A quick one. Just a really quick glance over his shoulder. He dared it and was shocked to see his pursuer still hot on his heels. This stranger had approached him out of the dark. How had he known where to find him? Or did he just stumble upon him?

He had addressed him very politely. It only made him more wary. Polite or not, he could tell — this stallion wanted something. They always did. And judging by prior experience, they wanted him gone. Not necessarily dead, but gone. And some would not mind if he broke his neck whilst fleeing.

So he ran. Again.

He ran as fast as his jittery legs would carry him. He ran as fast as he dared, because while his pursuers usually would not mind him becoming a meal for timberwolves or the like, he would very much appreciate not to be eaten. The Everfree Forest was a bad place to be. But it was the only place safe from pursuit. Or so he had thought, until this stranger had shown up out of nowhere.

Maybe he should have listened, he scolded himself. He should not have visited Appleloosa, not even at night, sneaking around and collecting a couple stray items. An open window was good to quickly slip in, rummage through some drawers, find thread and needle and leave with those. Another backyard offered a table cloth. The cloth would serve well to patch up his cloak. The hood was currently annoying him, because it basically acted as an air trap, but it was a necessity whenever he had to go near any sort of settlement.

A few pieces of discarded food here, two cans of beans there. He felt like a racoon, living off the trash of others. It was not a glorious life. Certainly not the life he had hoped for. But at least he was still alive at all. That had to count for something, right?

He should have listened to the advice and stayed clear. Appleloosa had been too large of a settlement to sneak around in. Somepony had probably spotted him. And now this. He could hear his pursuer gain on him. It was only a matter of time before either his legs would give out or this stallion would catch up to him.

What else could he do…?

“Shock him!” an angry voice demanded. He flinched, even while running. That all too familiar voice. Why did he have to show up now? He could see him as he ran beside him. And for just a brief moment, he envied him. He effortlessly kept pace. He did not run out of breath. His path was not impeded by the undergrowth of the Everfree Forest. His hooves did not get caught on any roots.

He saw how his companion quickly glanced back. His muzzle was contorted in anger. “You have a clear line! Shock him, you lazy bag of bricks!”

He winced. The impulse was there to look back. To ensure that yes, he really did have a clear line of sight. But the issue was: He already knew that. Mere moments before his new company had arrived, he had risked looking backwards. He knew.

So instead, he looked up. The canopies of the trees were dense. In some parts of the forest dense enough to make the forest beneath the treetops appear as dark as night. But here he could see the occasional spot of night sky. “I can’t!” he breathlessly replied. “There are no clouds around!”

It was an excuse. And a flimsy one at that. He was stalling and they both knew that. His current company knew that. And his anger only flared in response. “And what are you, a mud pony? A snooty wannabe-wizard? Are those wings for decoration only? Get your lazy flank up in the air!”

He ran on fumes. Quite literally, possibly. Yet this voice. This all too familiar tone. He did not dare disagree. He did not dare disobey. His wings trembled as he cautiously spread them. A few flaps and he started to gain altitude. Enough to break through a hole in the treetops. Maybe his pursuer would give up now? Maybe he was safe now?

A quick glance down and he could see movement between the trees. What a stubborn stallion this was.

He gracelessly landed on just about the only cloud he could spot in the air. And almost immediately his wings snapped shut, exhausted, pushed beyond their limits. And for a brief moment, he was deathly afraid. If he were to fall now, to fall down from this cloud, this height… he doubted he would get his wings to work again. He would simply plummet to his death.

So he grabbed the cloud tightly. Clung to it for dear life. He was safe up here, right? His pursuer was no pegasus. Why would he not have followed him into the air by now if he were, right?

“Get rid of this bastard!” the angry voice demanded.

He did not dare disobey. Despite his fear of heights, he stood up and gave the cloud a kick. A single lightning strike lit up the dark and pretty sky. The bolt of electricity surged towards the ground — or from the ground up, rather. A crackle could be heard. He really hoped he had not unintentionally hit anyone. Even critters of the Everfree did not deserve to be struck by lightning in the middle of the night.

His warning shot was dismissed. The pony below still ran. He tried to get beneath his cloud, it seemed.

“Shock him, you useless waste of space!” was yelled right into his ear.

He flinched, grimaced, tried to retreat, to pull his head away, but the transparent shape only advanced on him further. “Now!” he yelled.

Why. Why had he never been able to stand up to him. Never in his life. Not even now. Even when he tried, he ultimately failed. It was inevitable. And he did try. Again. “I-I don’t want to hurt him!” he replied in fear.

The expression on that transparent face changed. From white-hot, searing anger to a stone-cold determination. And disgust. Oh so much disgust. “Then I’ll do it myself,” he spat.

His eyes widened in shock. He tried to backpedal, but there was nowhere to run to. “No! Dad, no!”

The shape dissolved and pushed against him, into him. A cold, numbing presence flooded his body, effortlessly tore through whatever laughable resistance he put up and within seconds, he wrangled all control from him. His hooves and wings stopped trembling and jittering due to the sheer force of will that made them obey. His body rose in a new-found strength. And that was just it. This strength was not new as such. Lying dormant, untouched. A reserve this fool never dared to dip into. He was simply too afraid of his own power.

His front hooves rose high as he reared back. A final glance down to where his pursuer was and then he slammed them down onto the cloud.

An ear-splitting crack followed.

For a brief fraction of a second, the night was as bright as day.

A mighty lightning strike crashed down into the forest…

… only to be met by a shimmering golden force shield. The spell bubble dispersed the electricity, broke it apart and led it into the ground, where it harmlessly vanished.

“No!” he growled in displeasure, but before he could try again, his body finally collapsed. The angry voice faded from his consciousness, his appearance faded from his eyes as his vision shrank to an ever-smaller tunnel. He could feel the air rush past him at frightening speed as he fell and yet, despite understanding what it meant, he was… relieved.

The chase was over. And whoever was down there, whoever followed him here — he had not hurt him.

That was good.

Then, blackness.

He was not strong enough. As always.

Icy knew that he messed up. Again.

He slunk home from flight school, bruised and beaten. Again. He tried to shield the worst bruises with his wings, so others would not stare more than they already did. Most of those pegassi were neighbors, and most of those knew him as ‘that strange colt that told creepy stories’.

It was fine, he told himself. He was fine. And supposedly, if he were to tell this to himself often enough, he would eventually even start believing it. That would be a nice day, he assumed.

Icy opened the house door silently, slipped through the gap and quickly closed the door behind himself. With his haunches firmly planted on the cloud floor and his back pressed against the door, he allowed himself a moment to relax. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to ease the various pains in his body by letting it flow away.

Then he heard clatter from the kitchen and the moment was broken.

His mom was busy. He knew that. She always was. So he opened his eyes again and snuck past the doorless frame of the kitchen without being spotted. He walked up the stairs past the few framed pictures that still hung on the wall, down the empty hallway and into his room. And he made sure that none of his hoofsteps were audible, and that the door to his bedroom was opened and closed just as silently as the house door.

He had become very good at sneaking over the years. Very good at being silent and nigh-invisible. It was a necessity to a certain degree, but he found solace in making it into a game of sorts. A game with just one player and nothing to win. It was fine. He was fine.

He lay down on his bed, the soft, plush cloud blanket offering him a welcome respite. A familiar room with familiar walls. The scent of his bed was familiar, the Wonderbolt poster above the headboard was familiar. The nightstand with the small twittermite lantern was familiar. He had named the pair Greg and George. They were foul-tempered, as all twittermites were, but he appreciated their company anyway.

He looked around the room. Took notice of the chaos. Sportswear strewn across the floor. A stack of books from school on his desk. Little doodads. A young colts room was supposed to look messy. But truth be told, he did not like it much. The urge to clean it up was there. But it would defeat its purpose. If he cleaned it up now, nothing would change. He would feel a little better about the room, sure. But what was that really worth?

On the other hoof, if he left it like it was, his mom would eventually come in here, see the mess and ask him to clean it up. She would ask nicely. With a warm, genuine smile and only mild exasperation in her voice. He would clean up, talk to her to say he was finished and she would inspect the room again. She would be proud. Another smile. A hug. A wistful sigh. She would be happy. And that made him happy.

He sighed deeply. The mess would stay for now.

He let his head flop down onto the bed again and stared at the ceiling. Various parts of his body ached. A warm bath would have been great right about now, but he could not bring himself to stand back up again. Also, taking a bath took time. And neither did he want to talk to his mom right now, nor did he wish for her to barge in again because she had to use the toilet or something.

No, this, right now, just lying here — this was fine.

Everything was fine.

And he slowly started to drift off. He surely would have fallen asleep within minutes had it not been for the sudden intrusion of a voice. “What happened?”

The moment he heard the voice, his relaxation was over. He tensed up and grimaced as he quickly sat on his bed the right way. “Nothing,” he replied to the slowly forming shape beside his bed.

“Don’t lie to me, boy!” the voice warned.

Icy flinched. “N-Nothing!” he repeated, but he could already see the anger glowing in those slowly forming eyes. “They—… it just… it was a normal day!” It was a weak defense, he knew that.

“They beat you up again, didn’t they?” his father demanded to know.

Icy hesitated for a brief moment before he sighed deeply. “Y-Yes.” And he braced himself.

A few seconds passed without the expected verbal onslaught before it finally did come. As reliable as a sundial. “And what did I tell you, huh?” A shapeless limb swooshed down and passed through Icys head.

He could feel the sudden, cold presence of this contact. But what really made him wince was the memory. He could still feel the pain burning in his cheeks. The gesture alone, despite missing any actual physicality, was so eerily familiar that he could still feel it. And just like back then, tears welled up in his eyes. “I-I tried to fight back! I promise!” he pleaded. “I-I’m just, I’m not strong enough! A-And there were four of them!”

“Don’t talk back to me, boy!” his dad spat. “I told you what to do! You’re just too fucking useless to actually do it!” Another strike. Nothing happened. Nothing real happened, anyway. Icy tried to keep that in mind. It was all just in his head. But it felt real.

A few minutes later, Icy felt like he had run a marathon. He was exhausted, both in body and mind. And oh so tired. He left his room, his father still yelling into his ear, cussing and berating him. The young colt slunk down the staircase and into the kitchen.

“Mom?” he quietly asked.

She was busy. She always was. Currently with preparations for dinner. The table was set. Something was on the stove. She was busy cleaning up all the used tools and bowls. “What is it now?” she asked.

Icy winced. She was annoyed already. But he could not bear it any longer, he needed something, anything. “Dad said I should not let them beat me up, but—“ He quickly cut himself off as soon as he saw the change in her eyes when she turned around to face him.

She had been stressed. Busy. Annoyed. Now that annoyance turned to anger. “What did I tell you?” she scolded him. “Icy Whisper, what did I tell you?!” she immediately repeated more forcefully. Yet she still left him no chance to answer for himself. “Your dad is gone. Dead. He’s rotting in his grave and the two of us, we are both better off without that abusive, neglectful, unfaithful piece of shit! Good riddance!”

His dad had started to yell at his mom. More curses and cusses. But those last two words, they really hit home. Icy could see his dads legs tremble in sheer outrage. Hatred burned in his eyes as he glared daggers at his wife. He stomped over to the kitchen counter. That vase had been a gift from her first ever love many, many years ago. It was a cherished memento. A treasure.

Icy stared in shock as his dad put his hoof against it and threw the vase across the room. It shattered into a thousand pieces upon impact with the cloud wall. Both he and his mom jumped due to the sudden crashing noise.

The room fell deathly silent as they both coped with the events. Icy knew this was bad. Really bad. Never since his death had his father been able to actually manipulate anything real. He knew he should be sorry for his mom’s vase. He knew he should be sorry for her. He knew he should think about her and how sad and angry this would make her, but he just could not.

All he could think about was how much that next slap from him would hurt.

His mom looked at him. She slowly turned her head and looked at him like he was some sort of freak. And with a voice that sent a chill down his spine, she uttered a single, emotionless word. “Out.”

Icy did not dare to turn around. He retreated backwards until his rump hit the doorframe. A slight adjustment and he made it into the hallway. She still stared back at him. It scared him.

Then he raced up the stairs. His lips were glued shut, he could not even apologize.

And to distract himself, he started to clean up the mess in his room.

He was not strong enough. As always.

Icy woke up with a silent groan. His head felt like it had been struck by a hammer blow. And his stomach was strangely queasy, although that mystery was solved once he came more to his senses and realized that he was being carried by somepony. The rhythmic up and down, his stomach on the other pony’s back, it was as if his belly was a bellows. He tried to open his eyes and was surprised by the resistance his body offered. Everything felt so sluggish and heavy.

“You are a sneaky one,” a vaguely familiar voice addressed him in a chipper tone. “Do not worry, you are perfectly safe for now. However, since we have yet to travel a certain distance, I would prefer if you go back to sleep. So, if you do not mind…”

Just as Icy managed to crack an eye open, he saw the disgustingly bright orange light illuminate their nightly forest surroundings. He spotted an orange coat and some kind of cape, but then this brightly glowing horn made contact with his head and the blackness returned in an instant.

He was on his way to flight school. Lazy Turn was right next to him and repeatedly got a kick out of passing through other pegassi they met on the way. They shuddered and shivered as it happened and always looked back, only to spot Icy walking away from them. No real surprise many of the ponies in Cloudsdale associated him with creepy chills.

Icy would have preferred their usual routine of him softly chiding Lazy for his behavior and asking him to stop, which Lazy would then utterly disregard and ignore. However, this morning was different. Icy was still busy trying in vain to get the yolk residue out of his mane and coat.

Also, they were arguing. Occasionally. When both of them found the time to briefly pause their other activities. “So what I’m saying is,” Lazy continued his tirade as he caught up to Icy again, “you can’t stop doing this, Icy. And I don’t mean, like, ‘oh no, please, Icy, our lord and savior, rescue us, boo-hoo-hoo!’ And more like… I don’t think you’re capable of stopping. Like, physically or mentally or something. Also, it would really suck if you did. We don’t know of anypony else with your special talent. So, what else are we supposed to do? Who else are we supposed to turn to for help?”

Icy grimaced as a sudden gust of wind blew beneath his hooded cloak. It was no big deal, in theory. Cloudsdale was a windy city. That was inevitable with living so high up in the sky. But he just did not like it when other ponies saw his cutie mark. They already labeled him a weirdo and freak and creep and whatnot because of the sudden chills and occasional other spooky stuff, but their reaction was twice as bad if they saw a Celestia-damned pony skull on his flank, empty, hollow eye sockets and missing lower jaw included.

After the breeze passed, he turned his attention back to Lazy and sighed. “But that’s just it — I’m not much help!”

“Pfff,” Lazy replied in a clear demonstration of superior maturity. “Don’t be silly!” Seeing as his response did basically nothing, Lazy put some more thought into his reply and belatedly added: “You helped Jaded find peace and get out of here, didn’t you?”

Icy rolled with his eyes. “Lazy, all Jaded needed was for his dad to learn where his secret stash was.”

Despite the odd looks he garnered, Icy did not cut himself off once he became aware of them. Yes, yes, he was talking to himself again. The usual. This argument with Lazy however grated his nerves and he therefore deemed it more important than to avoid further odd looks from other pegassi.

Lazy however simply stared at Icy dumbfounded. “… you haven’t figured it out,” he noted. Lazy shook his head in sheer disbelief and chuckled. “You really haven’t figured it out. Hoo boy, wow. It wasn’t so much about the location of his stash, Icy. It was about his dear old dad learning and accepting that his beloved son was gay as fuck!”

Icys eyes grew wide in shock and embarrassment. And within seconds, a heavy blush rose to his pale, mint-green cheeks. “Language, Lazy!” he chided his companion with a hiss and tried to hide deeper within his hood.

“Excuse me?!” a sudden, unexpected voice spoke up.

Both Icy and Lazy froze in place and slowly turned around to see another pegasus standing behind them, outrage written all across this mare's face. Luckily for him, this did not happen to Icy for the first time. He quickly put one and one together and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry, ma’am, I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to myself.”

It was plain to see that she did not believe a single word he said. However, she was sufficiently mollified with him taking all the blame onto himself and she therefore decided to let him off the hook. She turned her muzzle up, spread her wings and flew off.

Icy sighed in relief and watched her vanish before he turned to Lazy again. His companion raised both hooves in a defensive gesture without falling over, despite Lazy being an earth pony. Because he had the luxury of floating, the old cheat. “Sorry, sorry!” Lazy offered, only to immediately turn back to their original topic. “And what about Big Bertha, then?”

“I didn’t help her escape!” Icy groaned. He wished Lazy would just give in and accept the reality of things. But of course he would not. Nopony ever did. They all just trampled over his opinions like the doormat that he was. He should be grateful to have friends like Lazy at all. Sure, he was a little more… dead than he would like his friends to be, but at least he listened. Occasionally.

“No, maybe not,” Lazy even agreed. “But! You did help her feel better about being stuck here in the first place!”

“That was by sheer coincidence!” Icy argued in exasperation. Lazy was one of those ‘the glass is always half full’-types. And if the glass was not, he would fill it. There was no reasoning with such types. They dug around in the dirt until they found something, anything positive. Or they used their own, twisted perspectives on life to twist whatever conundrum they had to turn it into something positive. Sometimes they just used a different way of saying the exact same thing, only to put it in a more positive light, to put a positive spin on it.

And to Icy, that was exhausting.

“It doesn’t matter if it was a coincidence!” Lazy shot right back. “You. Help. Ponies.”

“Ghosts,” Icy corrected.

“Ghosts of ponies! And other creatures!”

Icy could already tell how this conversation would devolve and end. Neither of them would be happy by the end of it. Eventually, one of them would say something hurtful and the other would withdraw for a couple of days. Maybe that was just how things were meant to be. In school they taught him how great of a nation Equestria was, how beloved Princess Celestia cared for all of her little ponies and how harmony ruled over everything.

It sure had not reached his corner of the world yet, it seemed.

When Gorok showed up, Icy was simply relieved. He would not have to talk about silly nonsense anymore, he would not have to argue with Lazy, neither of them would hurt the other. That was a good thing — until he saw the distress on his griffon friend’s face. Distress and urgency. “You can’t come to school today!” the young griffon said instead of any ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing today’.

Icy slowed his pace a little. They were not that far away from school and Gorok was not one to quickly fly into a panic, contrary to Icy. “What? Why?”

Gorok looked back over his shoulders, back towards the school. Icy followed his gaze, but could not spot anything out of the ordinary. Sunny day, lots of cloud houses, lots of pegassi, lots of younger ones near the school entrance. So far, so normal.

“The bullies. They planned something,” the griffon half-explained.

Icy gave a defeated sigh. His hooves felt a lot heavier all of a sudden, but he still trudged forward at a snail's pace. It reminded him that there were still two spots of yolk on his neck. They had dried by now, no doubt. “Again?” he tiredly asked, only to immediately shrug. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It’s fine, I can take it.”

Gorok tried to stop him. He flew down, put his claws on his shoulders and… they both shuddered as his claws went straight through. The griffon quickly retreated again. But every alarm bell in Icys head was going off now. Gorok never tried to get physical. Never tried to touch anyone, especially Icy. “No, no you can’t!” the griffon insisted. “You don’t understand! You didn’t hear them talk, Icy. They don’t just want to prank you.”

He slowed down further and shifted uneasily. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin again. “W-What did they say?” he asked.

“They want you to crash into a thundercloud,” Gorok replied.

“What?!” Lazy suddenly chimed in. “During the flight lesson? But there are no thunderclouds on the obstacle course!”

Gorok nodded. “That’s why they roped some of the older colts into this.” The griffon turned to Icy again. “They don’t just want to humiliate you for telling spooky stories this time. They want to hurt you, Icy.”

Icy grimaced. He remembered them well. The bruises. The cuts. The pain in his legs, his head, his stomach. How uncomfortable it felt to wear a bandage for several days. Still. He had been through all this before. He sighed and shrugged and forced his legs to move forward again. “I’ve been to the infirmary before.”

Gorok again tried to stop him, even though the attempt remained as futile as it was before. “Don’t you get it?! They want to send you to the hospital! Or worse!”

This time, his instincts barred him from simply forcing his way through. He stopped dead in his tracks, his hooves rooted to the spot, his eyes wide, his ears splayed flat against his skull. “I-I’ve been in a h-hospital before, too…” he meekly replied.

“Or worse,” Gorok repeated with emphasis. “They are done joking around, Icy. They want you gone.”

The griffon flew in front of him. Flew with flapping wings, generating no wind. His tail swished from side to side in agitation, constantly clipping through the solid cloud sidewalk. It had taken Icy almost a year to finally understand how to read a griffon's facial expression. It was so different from ponies, with their beak and all.

And he saw deep worry and concerns and worse still: Fear.

A griffon was a mighty predator, a carnivore, a powerful beast of the air, capable of flight, equipped with deadly talons and a sharp beak. They should fear little else. Yet here Gorok was. Afraid. For Icys safety.

Icys gaze drifted past his friend. He could see them in the distance. A bunch of the usual bullies were already waiting at the school entrance for him. They had clearly spotted him a while ago. Wasn’t hard with his hooded cloak. They grinned and laughed and talked among themselves, occasionally pointing towards him, or looking towards him. It did not seem so much out of the ordinary at first.

But their laughs were crueler than usual. His ears slowly rose, stood ramrod straight and listened as best as he could, given the sizable distance. They cackled. Harsh and hard. Harder than they usually did. Something was up.

Icy retreated half a step. Then another.

From this distance away, it should have been impossible to notice. Even given the sharp eyes of pegassi, it should have been impossible. But the bullies by the school's entrance noticed anyway. Immediately. Maybe it was something about his posture. Or maybe they simply caught on because he had stopped walking. It did not matter. They gave chase. All of them, all at once, they turned towards him, yelled something incomprehensible to him and they all ran. Towards him.

Instinct took over.

Fear gripped his heart. Made his hooves move. He ran. Back down the street, quickly past a cussing stallion. The bullies quickly gained on him, so he did what he hated most. From beneath his cloak emerged two large, pristinely cared for wings with pale, mint-green feathers. Despite his fear of heights, he was a pretty good flier if he needed to be. He turned into a side alley, ran to its end and jumped off the cloud.

He fled from his problems, once again.

He was not strong enough. As always.

Icy woke up yet again.

This time however, he refrained from announcing his change in state by any means and instead tried to get his bearings before he was forced into unconsciousness again. As his senses slowly returned to him, he could make out the expected. Crickets, owls, wind rustling in the leaves, small critters running around in the bushes. No bobbing up and down this time. He lay on the ground, soft dirt beneath him. He could hear the crackle of a fire nearby, felt the heat of the flames on his belly and the cold of night on his back. His cloak was still on him, but the hood had been drawn back.

And there were voices. He tried to swivel his ears around without anypony noticing.

“I am unhappy about this,” a gruff, deep voice the quality of sandpaper announced. “Look at him, Wildfire. He’s barely a stallion.”

A sigh from a different throat. “Are you referring to his age or his current state of obvious malnourishment, bordering on starvation?”

“Both,” the gruff voice answered.

“I see,” came the immediate reply. Then a couple of seconds of silence. “Well in any case, go take a dip in your riches to dry off your tears. I do not pay for your ‘happiness’. I pay for your services. As such, I would appreciate it if you would take Rock and make yourselves scarce. I intend to have a pleasant conversation and I do not expect either of you two to be beneficial in such a situation.”

A bit of grumbling, but eventually four sets of hooves retreated deeper into the forest while the snooty one came over. The stallion sat down close to the fire, but not immediately next to Icy. “You are one elusive pegasus,” he repeated a statement from earlier.

It served well to remind Icy of what had happened. The stranger in the dark, the polite request for a conversation, the chase, his fall—

His fall!

Icy shot up and fumbled around at his neck. He then checked his wings, his legs, but nothing appeared to be broken or mangled. He did not feel dead or less substantial than before and his mysterious benefactor stared at him as if he could see him clearly. With a glint of amusement in his eyes.

So he somehow had survived falling off that cloud.

Icy stared at the stranger. “Please don’t hurt me,” he pleaded. He still had no idea what this stallion wanted. Icy did not look like anypony with money or worthwhile contacts. Nopony would pay ransom for him. And there was no way this… Wildfire was the name the other stallion had used, was it not? There was no way Wildfire knew anything about his talents.

Right…?

The orange-coated unicorn adjusted a pair of reading glasses and shot him a charming smile. “My, my. I can assure you, I mean you no harm. None at all. Quite the contrary, actually. I wish to help you. I tracked you down to offer you employment.” And with that, Wildfire picked up a wooden bowl, levitated it over the kettle that hung above the campfire and filled it with what smelled like a rich and delicious vegetable broth. He then offered the filled bowl to Icy, who took note of the egg swimming around within the broth. “Please take it.”

While Icy did dare to take the bowl, he kept it away from his watering mouth. As enticing as the smell was, he tried to stay wary. There was this saying about how one should never look a gift horse in the mouth, but in Icys experience, that was just plain bad advice.

Wildfire chuckled briefly when he noticed his expression. “I wish to hire you, my friend. It would not do for me to poison you now, would it? I like to think you are more capable in your current, very much alive and un-poisoned state. Additionally, whatever my devious, malicious mind would have wished to inflict upon you — surely I could have done so by now, while you were less than capable of defending yourself, no?”

Maybe he made good points. Maybe his smile was just too charming to resist. Maybe it was the aching in his stomach, the growing pain due to his resurging hunger. Icy caved and started to eat. And a few minutes later, he silently asked for seconds and thirds. “What do you want me to do?” he asked only after emptying his third bowl and asking for a fourth.

Wildfire smiled. It seemed smug in a way, but at the same time so warm and appreciative. Like a fat cat lolling around in the sun after an opulent meal. “That is much better, is it not?” he asked without expecting an answer. So Icy gave none. “It must get awfully tiring to run from just about anypony all the time.” Half a minute passed with Icy further filling his stomach. Then, and only then when he finally lowered the bowl and Wildfire had his full attention, did he continue. “I want you to do what you do best. I want you to spook ponies.”

“I don’t hurt anypony! I just want to be left alone!” Icy immediately defended himself.

Wildfire sighed and shook his head. “I am not asking you to hurt anypony. I rather prefer you would not do that at all, actually. No, I merely wish to keep them… occupied. Distracted. Their attention directed elsewhere. Via creepy whispers and moving objects, opening windows and doors and sudden chills, that kind of thing. If I am not mistaken, that is your forte, yes?”

It was not quite that simple. The things this ‘Wildfire’ described were not abilities Icy possessed himself. However, he could communicate with the restless dead and many of those were friendly and helpful. And the Everfree had a frightening amount of those souls. “I-I might be able to arrange that,” he hesitantly replied.

In a strangely unfitting display, Wildfire excitedly clopped his front hooves together. “Lovely! Then may I tell you where to find your new allies? The main camp is not far from here. They will hoof you equipment as needed, a secured shelter and…” Wildfire looked him up and down once more. “Food. Lots of food. It will take a while before we can rely on your abilities. Until then, rest up, train with your allies and get some actual body weight back onto those bones.”