Kind Hands

Let’s fast forward a bit. To the evening and the entrance of the Everfree Forest, specifically. Following a fairly nondescript afternoon, I found myself facing the comparative freedom of the woodland in front of me. No kids; no Twilight. It was just me in my purported element with some big dumb block of cork on my back.

Oh, and Fairfeather was here too. He’d arrived moments earlier, all stoic and covered in faux-foliage like we were going to Pripyat. Did those stupid bird-things track people purely through sight? I dunno. They’re birds.

Birds that lived somewhere in this forest. A vast expanse of trees that fought for space within my vision. The sun had set a while ago, leaving the land to become shrouded in darkness- but even during the day, I doubted the sunlight’s ability to break through the tangle of branches that seemed hellbent on preventing any access to the woodland within.

“This doesn’t look like the friendliest place to be,” I summarised as I took in the near-pitch-black expanse that lay just out of reach. I guess some voids are more comforting than others.

Keeping the mood as dour as possible, Fairfeather simply replied as he stepped into the darkness. “Nowhere in Equestria’s very friendly. Remember last time?”

“Yes- last time,” I responded, lifting my left arm and running the fingers of my other hand along the skin. The surface was smooth, and the lack of friction along my scar suggested that my arm had recovered from the trauma well, yet it was still obvious that its recovery wasn’t exactly what you’d call ‘natural’.

“It’s just like that- except, instead of one big thing trying to kill you, it’s a swarm of little things trying to kill you.”

“100 duck-sized horses…” I mused as a familiar ‘would you rather’ question popped into my head. The fictional conundrum weighed heavily on my mind, causing me to lose sight of where I was for a moment.

It was easy to get lost amidst the tangled branches that regularly hung low enough to scratch along my face. It all looked so monotonous; no new sights to see, no changes in elevation. The lifelessness of it all got to me; the place radiated an aura that strongly advised me to leave it alone so that it could decay in peace.

“Think fast!” Fairfeather suddenly screeched in my direction as he thrusted one of his arrows towards my throat. Even though his outburst scared the life out of me, I didn’t think fast enough, as the arrow in question gently brushed against my neck.

“You’re dead,” the griffon continued, calm and smug in his assertion. “Gotta think faster than that, otherwise you- yi-!”

Again, the griffon’s yelp scared me far more than his weaponry did. Having apparently spotted something further ahead, he had made an instinctive dive into a nearby bush, colliding noisily with the dead leaves within.

He eventually poked his head out of the foliage, scanning around while I did my best to stand in his way and block his vision. “You think too fast. And you look ridiculous.”

I gave the griffon an obligatory whack to the back of his head before continuing down the path without him. This whole thing was silly; we were out here to shoot some birds out of the sky and that was it. There’s nothing else here.

I was busy pulling small splinters out of my hand when I heard Fairfeather fall in behind me again. “You always need to be on your guard!” he told me, as if I was actually interested in his behaviour.

“It explains why you’re going grey so early. Now come on- let’s get this over with.”

Our journey was nondescript for a while, only following the same narrow path down an equally narrow space between columns of trees. Thankfully- and I do mean thankfully- Fairfeather eventually forced the two of us towards some kind of rocky canyon, or at least the outside of it.

From what Fairfeather had told me on the way to this place, we weren’t too far away from our objective. Oh yeah, and this place was cooler than going the same boring route apparently, although Fairfeather didn’t seem particularly interested in the landscape.

I was, though. We’d found ourselves along the rim of the thing, staring down into the miniature chasm. What should have been just a load of monochrome stone occasionally glistened with small tinges of cold pastel colours that seemed to blend together as their intensity increased.

The light that the colours generated were captivating and almost outright stated that there was something more beneath the cracks. Unfortunately for me, Fairfeather took no notice of any of this, uninterested in anything other than making it to our objective.

“So, how’s life in big-ol’ Equestria suiting ya?” the griffon soon asked me as we made our way from the canyon, oddly calm given the circumstances. Maybe that was because he could fly over the perilous cliffs, the lucky bastard.

“It’s fast paced; I’ll give it that,” I answered absentmindedly, looking back to take one final look at the colours. “I don’t know how to describe it- my head hasn’t caught up yet, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?”

“I don’t think.”

With that insightful bit of dialogue, we continued in silence for a few moments. The problem with this was that the pause gave Fairfeather time to think, and he naturally began to probe.

“Has that piece left your side yet?”

And the problem with that was that I was being dragged into a familiar feeling of latent sexual tension. Not to my benefit, of course- but everyone else had some form of desire to see me grind against that autistic little pony.

“She…has a habit of inserting herself into my plans. Worryingly invested as well. I don’t know why she allows my wellbeing to weigh her mind down as much as she does.”

A lack of conviction seemed to be commonplace whenever I spoke about my private life. So much so, that Fairfeather’s probing stopped just as quickly as it started, although perhaps the area that we’d stumbled into had something to do with that as well.

The narrow path that we found ourselves on eventually opened up to reveal a large clearing. Unlike the rest of the forest, this area was devoid of trees, revealing the night sky above and allowing the light of the moon to illuminate the swamp in dim light.

Fairfeather was right to refer to this place as ‘swampland’. The place was caked in some foul-looking liquid that periodically bubbled like it was in the process of boiling over. I was concerned about what would happen if I stepped in it.

This wasn’t a problem for the griffon as, despite having the ability to fly, trudged forward into the muck, showcasing both its shallowness and its inability to harm anyone who stepped foot in it. He initially said nothing, but no news is good news, so I quietly followed my friend into the knee-deep mess.

“Come on in- the water’s fine!” Fairfeather called out just as I was gearing myself up to trudge into the sludge. I wasn’t sure if I believed him; I hated the way it’d already stuck to the feathers along his stomach.

“Is this even water?” I asked him as I became of aware of the substance beginning to crawl up my skin. My discomfort was largely ignored by Fairfeather, who chuckled to himself in response to my question.

“Wa’er…” he amusedly mused before cutting himself off. “No, it’s not water- not the type of water that the ponies know. The clouds move on their own ‘round here- this place’s got its own climate; its own little atmosphere.”

“Wait, they don’t move on their own everywhere else?”

Despite my heavy desire to get to the other side of this swamp, I stood in place and stared at the ground as my mind worked its way through such a ridiculous concept. Surely, we were at the point where people were just taking the piss? Although, on the other hand it would explain why the weather’s so peachy these days…

“Do those guys tell you anything?” the griffon asked with a hint of exasperation. “Weather squads? The cloud factory…?” A single shake was all that was needed for him to give up on trying to explain. “Well, they do. Go read a book or something, geez…”

“I read one about dragon lilies.”

“Not about clouds though. C’mon now- those birds can’t be far. We’re sitting ducks in this state.”

The griffon had a point. I didn’t know where the birds would be coming from, but I’d always have preferred the opportunity to run away. I couldn’t really afford to lose my other arm.

And I sure as hell wouldn’t be able to move very fast in this fluid, although it was admittedly very enjoyable to wade through. It was so warm and it sucked me in like something out of a fetish novel. Not even difficult to pull out of either- the best of both worlds.

“Stop splashing and listen.”

With a rehearsed stoicism, Fairfeather brought me back to reality as he lowered himself down slightly, entering a crouch that left him just above the water’s surface. He made no attempt to look in my direction, so I imagined that he was talking himself through his own little routine. “Eyes up.”

I wordlessly followed his instruction, spotting a large gathering of birds a good distance away from me. Even from this distance, they were larger than I was expecting- maybe the size of a crow- and I could see their beaks shimmer in what little light there was, even from this far back.

The…flock, I’m assuming, seemed to just be minding their own business, and if I wasn’t already told that they were dangerous, I wouldn’t have had any concern with just walking around them.

Even now, presented as this force of nature that must be destroyed, a large group of them hovered in place, chasing each other around like I was witnessing an impromptu playdate. There was a chance of course that they were fiercely territorial- but I didn’t see it that way.

“Maybe a couple dozen. Thin ‘em out slowly. Most of ‘em are cowards anyway…!”

It was during my continued observation that I watched one of Fairfeather’s arrows scythe through the birds’ gathering, followed by one of the little buggers dropping to the ground and into the muck below. It kind of hurt to watch one of them fall out of the sky like that.

The splash it created reminded me of how bad a position I was in- and made me wonder why the hell Fairfeather had decided to choose this opportunity to strike. Still, that shouldn’t have been the most pertinent thought in my mind at that point.

I needed to get out of the swamp- or to join in with the assault. I didn’t really know which one to choose, so I tried to do both, erratically firing away while moving to towards the nearest patch of land. I made no real progress with either objective, as the swamp itself suddenly began to feel particularly difficult to move through.

Clearly, I wasn’t in the best position to be going on the offensive; it was as if the swamp itself was holding me down to voice its displeasure. It got to the point where I needed to physically wrench my leg out of the ooze at one stage, which left me painfully vulnerable to the screeching above.

A stinging pain in my right shoulder reminded me of the predicament I was in. Fairfeather be damned- these things were coming for me. One of them must’ve gone in for me as I felt a familiar wetness soaking into my sleeve. What scared me was that I hadn’t even notice it hit me.

But I certainly heard it. I could only track them with sound, such was their speed, and the sensation in my shoulder made it hard for me to focus. It was just a blur of colour as a small group of them blitzed above me, occasionally plunging down with shrieks like dive bombers.

Sure enough, another couple of hits to my chest was enough to send me backwards and under the water. I didn’t even get a chance to breathe before I went down, causing some of the swamp’s contents to enter into my mouth.

My mind was begging me to get out of here, but my body wasn’t listening to any instructions. I could feel the birds on top of me; they were doing something to stop me from pushing myself free. Having already taken on some water, I began thrashing around in an attempt to stop myself from drowning.

Scrambling, I waved my arms over my torso until I was able to grab one of the birds with my hands- just to feel it go limp and join me in the swamp. An arrow had been lodged into its side, and feeling around for it jolted my body back into shape as I was finally given the strength to rise back out of the water.

“…your shield! It’ll stop them from picking chunks outta you!”

I could only barely register what Fairfeather had said. Instead, I was on all-fours trying to cough up what I could of whatever had slithered its way down my throat. Due to the griffon’s intervention, the pain in my shoulder had reduced significantly, but it was clear that things were going to get worse before they got better.

Forcing myself back to my feet, I fumbled my hands along my back until I could grab my shield with both hands and thrust it out in front of me. Further shrieking overhead caused my arms to jut out on impulse as one of the birds collided with my shield’s surface with a hefty thud that almost knocked me off-balance again.

I could barely believe my eyes as I looked on to see three of the Stymphalian birds having wedged themselves into my shield. No wonder they were so fast; they were shaped more like bullets that birds. Fiercely aerodynamic with sharp angles and dull, black and brown hues, all leading to a beak made of bronze that looked capable of piercing through bone. The birds were hellbent on prying themselves free from the cork surface, using so much strength that I swear that I was being lifted into the air.

Again, several arrows gave me respite, as what I- at this point- hoped to be blood coated the side of my face. The tension in my shield relinquished as three corpses hung from my shield, limp and swaying in the gentle breeze.

Fairfeather stood on standby, untouched by the wildlife before looking to the sky and lowering his weapon. “They’re gone,” was all he said.

I confirmed what Fairfeather told me and sunk down to my knees. Soaked through with a mixture of mud and fluids, I turned back to the griffon before shouting in his direction, “There’s gotta have been a better fucking plan than that!”

“Sorry, friend-o. They don’t usually get that bold. Normally you take down about seven or eight, and the rest just give up!”

“Fucking ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna cut it ‘friend-o’! I nearly-”

A sudden urge to vomit brought me to a halt. A mixture of secretions was currently on face and down my throat, so I hung my head and heaved. I was too scared to look at the colour of whatever left my mouth.

Fairfeather interrupted the emptying of my stomach by offering a talon for me to latch onto. I felt myself be dragged back onto my feet and led to the far side of the swamp. “You’ll be alright…” the griffon reassured me as we went.

His words meant very little. Even so, I was in no mood to argue. “I wonder what gave them such confidence…” I murmured to myself as I felt another wave of nausea threatened to overrun me.

“Maybe you guys have got history. They didn’t care about me.”

“Do you hear yourself when you speak? Because you almost got me killed!” I snapped back at the griffon, who shrank away from the confrontation. I really wanted to get angry at him, but something in me just couldn’t. “…Yeah, well, in that case, I’m going on your back next time we have to do something like this.”

“No sweat. I knew you’d get carried at some-”

Just as we were about to reach dry land, another shriek sounded out overhead and I instinctively moved to block any attacks in that direction. Again, one of the birds had found its way into the surface of my shield, and it was promptly dealt with by Fairfeather.

“…Now can we get some respite?” I wearily asked the space around me, but a looming sense of dread seemed to present an answer that I dreaded to receive.

After being given only a brief moment to compose myself, the world had decided that it wasn’t quite done with me yet and had sent in the Stymphalian reinforcements. It must’ve been dozens of them- certainly a larger group than before and rapidly approaching. Where the hell had they come from? Were they protecting something?

It didn’t matter. The only thing that I focused on now were the shrieks and the thuds against my makeshift armour. I had no form of attack- not at this range- so it was up to Fairfeather to mow down my attackers without bringing me down with them.

Nothing can really prepare your mind for an experience like this. Sure, I was little more than a wall that these birds were smacking their heads into, but I was being complicit in a culling. In a roundabout way, I had the urge to lower my shield as the assault continued; I felt as if I deserved to take some share of the misery.

I closed my eyes after a while, hoping that I could serve as the griffon’s inanimate object and take none of the blame for this bloodshed. It felt routine in a sense: stand perfectly still, ignore the shrieking, and keep my eyes closed to prevent any blood from trickling through my eyelids.

Things changed once I felt my shield crack open. One singular surface of protection could only take so much punishment, and the feeling of my only defence breaking away filled me with a panic. I desperately grabbed at the front of the shield in a vain attempt to keep the pieces together. This was quickly punished by the Stymphalian birds as they took this opportunity to rip at my arms in the shield’s absence.

They found it more difficult to wedge themselves into my flesh, with their metal beaks acting like drills as they dug themselves free. The vibrations that these movements sent throughout my body brought a sense of nausea back to me, making any attempts at covering the rest of my body evermore fruitless.

And the instant I pulled my arms away, the birds were upon my torso instead, taking turns to dive down and strike my body in whatever places that they could. They gave my shoulders the same punishment that they had given to my shield, and any attempts to break them free would’ve been worthless.

Fairfeather tried to alleviate my suffering by shooting most of the birds as they pried free, but even in death they continued to hang onto me, dragging themselves through my skin as even gravity sought to work against me. “Give me one of those…” I growled at the griffon as I swiped an arrow from him. “These…monsters.”

Arrow in hand, I fought against the pain and started hacking away at the creatures embedded into my flesh. They were large enough to hit easily, and it generally only took one hit to cause them to go limp. Every stab that I inflicted made the pain feel that little bit further away, and…

Oh God. Is this what passes for a ‘victory’ now?

Alas, an arrow can only do so much, and it soon snapped on one of the creature’s beaks. I think I laughed when it happened. I could only do so much; it felt like the world was sending me a message.

The pain was so much. It burned through my blood as I felt it drip out of me. I found myself on the floor again, just as I had done at Pastern Peak, resting my head on one of the fallen birds. I saw a few above me- although they looked as if they had turned to flee as a bright light filled my eyes.

“I thought I told you not to get hurt!”

Somepony had called out to me at that moment, though my senses were so overcome that her voice felt omnidirectional. My guardian angel had arrived, just in time to watch me succumb to the world around me.

But the light- it felt so familiar.

I knew I recognised that colour.