This is an old story, from a time when the Mare in the Moon still hung in the sky. The Everfree Forest was much larger in those days: it nearly surrounded Ponyville on all sides, spanning the distance from there to Canterlot, and stretching South as far as Ghastly Gorge. The rail line had just come through the previous year, though Ponyville was still only a minor stop along the Dodge City-Canterlot line.
The coming of the trains had caused quite a commotion - finally, our little town was going to modernize, ponies said. We were connected to the Capitol now, and to Equestria at large. Sure enough, over the years that followed, things would change rapidly: new blood came in, bringing with them new ways and customs, and over time the forest would be pushed back and tamed. Bit by bit the savage world around us would grow tamer and smaller, and Ponyville would be pulled into the modern world. But that was still a long ways off, and in the days of my youth, many of the old traditions still held.
As I have said, the forest was larger and darker in those days. It was a place out of time, where weather and nature was beyond our control. Being surrounded by something so ancient and savage, one couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence. It might seem silly to younger ears, to hear the Everfree Forest described in such austere terms, but it was something we all felt.
Certainly, the forest could be dangerous - our parents would frighten us with stories of careless foals who wandered in and never came out - but to say we lived in fear of it would be untrue. It was something that was old and powerful and yet connected to our daily lives. It was beautiful and terrible and sublimely indifferent. We all felt this and respected it - especially the Earth Ponies, who had occupied and farmed this clearing since before even the town existed.
None of the inroads or byways that exist today existed back then. A single ancient highway bisected the forest from Appleoosa to the foothills beneath Canterlot; it skirted Ponyville on the Western side. All that remains of this highway today is the rail line, but from time immemorial it was the primary means of ingress and egress to Ponyville for travelers.
It should be said, too, that there was another road. This was a winding, narrow, treacherous hoof-path that followed the river North through the woods and up into the mountains, eventually reaching its terminus in a suburb of Canterlot. This path was often shunned, and for good reason: the ground was uneven, littered with roots and sinkholes to trap the unwary. Slides were common in the colder and rainier months, bringing mud and debris that would often make the way impassable.
Along that path was a way-station, an old stone hut that most likely still stands, though I have no desire to seek it out to confirm that it does. Both the road and the way-station play a significant role in this tale.
At the time my story begins, I was still a young colt - neither I nor any of my friends had gotten our cutie marks - and old roads and ancient forests were the furthest thing from any of our minds. It had been a year of heavy rains, and the apple harvest had been plentiful.
An Earth Pony custom, going all the way back from before the town's founding, called for a night of celebration following the harvest. As time went on, this custom had become mixed in with customs from other parts of the land, and with ancient legends involving the Mare in the Moon. Today, we know this celebration as Nightmare Night, but in Ponyville at this time it was known simply as the Festival of the Autumn Moon.
On the evening before the Festival proper, it was traditional for groups of friends to organize their own, smaller celebrations. The town's foals had decorated the schoolhouse for just such a party, and I was on my way there with my best friends. Paprika, a pegasus, was the son of the local Weather Commissioner. He was always brash and confident - a little too confident, we all thought - but was loyal to a fault. Silver Birch was a unicorn and somewhat more withdrawn, always with his nose in a book.
We were ambling along the path that led from town into the Apple family orchards. The schoolhouse was technically on Apple land, that our family had leased to the town since my grandfather's time. As one left the town by this path, the orchards would close in, and in mid-autumn, just as the sun began to go down, a damp chill would descend. The leaves would not be run for another month or so, and the surrounding trees were still draped in their shrouds of bloody orange and crimson. Nearby cottages would be lighting their hearths, and the smoke from their chimneys would waft in, mingling with the aroma of damp earth and decaying leaves and apples.
"Have either of you been to see her yet?" asked Paprika, gliding around us in a lazy circle.
"Not yet," Silver Birch admitted. "She's only been back a week."
"She's been here all week and you haven't seen her?" Paprika gave out a long cackle and did a loop-de-loop in the air. "That's pretty harsh."
"Yeah, well, her family's kept her pretty busy from what I know," said Silver defensively. "And besides, it's not like she's seen you either."
"I'm not the one who's supposed to be engaged to her, though," Paprika retorted, still cackling.
"Our parents decided that," muttered Silver, reddening a bit. "It's got nothing to do with me. And in any case, I'll see her tonight."
"Maybe you will, if she's still got time for you."
Paprika passed over the branch of a nearby apple tree, aiming a lazy kick at one of its branches and dislodging a single lingering apple. He looped over and underneath, just in time to catch it in his mouth.
"After all, she's been in Canterlot a whole year now," he mumbled, spitting tiny bits of chewed up apple as he spoke. "Surrounded by all those rich, sophisticated unicorns. She prob'ly forgot all about you."
Silver Birch said nothing, staring down at the path ahead of him and glowering. Sensing that he might have gone too far, Paprika landed and drew in beside him, placing a consoling wing over his friend's shoulder.
"Aw, don't be like that. I'm just messing with you," he said. "She wrote you those letters, didn't she? And she said she'd be at the party."
Silver Birch gave a morose smile.
"Yeah, I know," he said. "It's just that--well, it's like you said. She's been in Canterlot all year."
I walked a short distance behind the two of them, listening in on their banter but saying little. The filly they were discussing was, of course, Amber Moon, and I felt somewhat melancholy about the subject myself.
Amber Moon was the same age as the rest of us, and we'd all been friends since early foalhood. Amber and Silver both came from well-to-do unicorn families in town, and their houses were on the same street. I was fond of her myself, of course, as I suspected Paprika was as well, but it had been clear from the very beginning that it was she and Silver who were most suited for each other.
Everypony always joked that the two of them would be married someday, and it was true that their parents had formally betrothed them. A generation or two prior, in Ponyville, a betrothal like that would have been as good as a blood vow, but already the times were beginning to change. Amber had been accepted into Celestia's School in Canterlot, but Silver had failed the entrance exam. Though they may still have been formally engaged, everyone knew that her prospects had improved, and she was no longer one of us. Although he tried not to let it show, nopony understood this better than Silver Birch, and he was silent for the rest of the walk.
The last bit of twilight was just fading away when we came in view of the schoolhouse. The little red building had been decorated with autumn-colored streamers and jack-o-lanterns, and sheaves of corn and straw-stuffed likenesses of ponies lined the path to the door.
Inside, the room was cheerfully lit with colorful lanterns and full of the idle chatter of colts and fillies. Some musicians from the school orchestra had formed an impromptu band, and were performing a somewhat shaky and out-of-tune rendition of a song that had been popular that year. A few of the bolder colts had asked some fillies to dance, while those who lacked such courage stood off to the side, laughing and cheering them on.
Upon entering the room, the three of us were immediately spotted, and boisterously greeted by a small group of our classmates. Paprika, always more at home in these situations, was immediately drawn away into the eddy of the crowd. Silver and I hung back, scanning the room for a particular face.
I was the one who spotted her first. To this day I clearly remember the sight of her, standing primly under an orange-colored party lantern, her white coat glittering. The honey color of her mane seemed to absorb the light, and assumed a glow of its own, an effect which distinguished itself in every toss of her head and flick of her tail.
"Cortland!" she cried, as soon as she caught sight of me. "Cortland Apple! It's been ages!"
She trotted daintily towards me, each step carefully measured, nose held slightly in the air. She kissed me lightly on each cheek and then stepped back, still maintaining that graceful posture. I had to stifle a laugh; when I'd said goodbye to her just a few short months ago she'd had none of these affectations. Before I could rib her about any of it, however, there came a brash cackle, and we were joined by Paprika.
"How do you do, my Princess," he proclaimed in a deeply affected voice, bowing low with his wings spread out. Several nearby foals had a laugh at that, and Amber flushed slightly.
"Still a joker, I see," she said curtly, though I could see she was trying not to smile. They embraced.
"Amber Moon," said Silver, a bit stiffly, approaching from behind me. Amber straightened her posture again.
"Silver Birch," she said, in a clear imitation of his voice. Paprika burst out laughing, and a moment later we all joined in. The last of the ice was broken, and suddenly we were all friends again.
The evening passed in a pleasant blur of activity. A few of the local shops had been thoughtful enough to donate some cakes and pies, and we all stuffed ourselves silly. Later on, someone suggested we play "Pin the Tail on the Pony," and somehow I managed to end my turn with an upended punchbowl on my head, the tailless pony nowhere in sight. I had an inkling that Paprika was somehow to blame for this, but I didn't press him, and in any case the event proved to be the height of the evening's entertainment.
As the night was winding down, a few of us went out into the schoolyard to cool down. The night air was crisp and the stars were clear. A few of the younger foals were standing near the road, waiting for their parents to come and collect them. I was idling near the door with a small group of colts, half-listening to a story Paprika was narrating, when I happened to notice Amber Moon slipping quietly around the side of the building. Something about the way she was moving struck me as odd.
"Where do you suppose she's off to?" Silver Birch stood next to me, watching her with a slight frown; it was clear he was thinking the same as me. I shrugged.
"I've heard Canterlot fillies all smoke," I offered. "Maybe she's picked up some bad habits."
I had meant it as a joke, but Silver frowned, and trotted off in the direction Amber had gone. A moment later I decided to follow.
We went round the building to a grassy athletic field in back. At the far end was a stand of trees, where we observed two silhouetted figures, a filly and what appeared to be an adult pegasus. As we approached, their hushed, whispered conversation suddenly halted, and the larger of the two stepped into the moonlight to greet us.
What I had first mistaken for a pegasus turned out to be a griffon. He was tall, and impressively built, and there was something distinctly troublesome in the way he carried himself. He seemed to be a few years older than us - still young, I supposed, but certainly old enough that his presence at a foals' party was questionable. He smiled at us in an unpleasant, leering way.
"Amber, what are you doing back here?" Silver demanded.
Amber Moon, who was still hanging back in a shadow under a tree, stepped forward.
"I'm alright, Silver," she said. Her voice had an annoyed edge to it. "I just came out to get some air."
Silver glanced at her and then back at the griffon, frowning. He hesitated, as though he had been about to say something but then thought better of it. The griffon gave out a short, sneering laugh, and Silver glared at him.
"Who are you, anyway?" he snapped.
The griffon smiled wanly.
"I'm nobody, kid," he said. "Why don't you buzz off? She said she's alright, didn't she?"
The griffon's voice was smooth and his eyes were calm, but there was a menacing air about him. Silver and I both held still, unsure of ourselves but neither of us willing to leave the two of them alone. The griffon gave out another barking laugh.
"You listening to me, kid?" he sneered. "I said buzz off. You're annoying us."
"Really, I'm fine, Silver," added Amber Moon. Her voice sounded distant.
Suddenly we felt a light breeze, and Paprika landed next to us. The griffon cast an annoyed glance in his direction.
"What's your trouble, kid?"
"What's yours?"
The griffon's eyes narrowed threateningly, but Paprika met his gaze, unperturbed. I glanced behind me and saw that two or three of the other foals had come around back to see what the commotion was. The griffon had a dark look in his eye, and for a moment I worried that there was going to be trouble. However, he just scowled at us and took to the air, and in seconds had vanished into the shadows.
"What was that all about?" Silver Birch demanded, but Amber Moon just walked past him towards the schoolhouse, saying nothing. She had a strange far-off look in her eye.
The entire incident had disquieted me somehow, but it seemed that it was over. After casting one last furtive glance back towards the shadowy treeline where the griffon had disappeared, I followed my friends back inside.
I awoke the next morning to see frost crystals on my bedroom windowpane. The temperature had dropped significantly in the night, and a cold mist hung over the town.
As it was a holiday, there were few chores to be done, and I sorted them out quickly. This was the sort of day that one wants to spend inside, but I knew that Amber would be returning to Canterlot on the first train the following morning, and I wanted to see her at least once before the festival. I rather assumed that Paprika and Silver would be of a similar mind and we would all meet up, and so I wrapped a scarf about my neck and set out for the town.
It was now midmorning and the day was a bit warmer, but the fog had not yet cleared and the sky was overcast. The mist seemed to envelop the orchard, a thin white shroud draped across the trees, making the already-lonely road even lonlier. I found myself thinking again about Amber and the strange incident the night before, unable to shake myself free of a lingering anxiety.
In this frame of mind, I rounded the final bend in the road which marked the beginning of the end of the Apple family's land. Ahead of me and to my left was the schoolhouse, empty now of course, and the familiar outline of the playground equipment in the yard behind it.
As I passed the school, a metallic creaking caught my attention, and I turned towards the playground. There was an old see-saw with a metal hinge that would creak like that when it moved, and sure enough this was what I'd heard. I stopped cold in my tracks when I saw what had produced the sound: standing next to the see-saw, idly pushing it up and down with a claw, was a teen-aged griffon.
Though I'd only seen him once in the dark, there was no question that it was the same fellow from the night before. His pose was relaxed, but there was still the same air of menace hovering about him. He watched me, smiling in that leering way, while casually moving the see-saw up and down.
His presence at the party last night had been unnerving. For him to be loitering about the empty playground, alone and in the broad glare of daylight, was downright sinister. I felt an uncontrollable anger welling up inside me at the sight of him, as though his mere presence was somehow profane.
He caught sight of the change in my expression, and his smile turned into a sly grin. He raised the see-saw up as high as his arm could make it go, and slammed it quickly to the ground. It came down with a loud screech, startling a few birds perched in a nearby tree. He continued to watch me, smiling.
Here I am, come and do something about it.
We stood facing each other for a moment, and then he turned his back on me dismissively and ambled off towards the schoolhouse. It was a challenge if ever I'd seen one.
I hesitated, watching him disappear around the back of the building. He was bigger than me and I was alone, and he had the advantage of being able to take to the air if necessary. However, I had spent most of my life bucking apples and doing farm work. I had no doubts about my own strength, and I knew that I was quicker on my hooves than either Silver or Paprika.
I made my decision in the space of a breath, and took off at a gallop, rounding the school building where I'd seen him disappear. There was no sign of him, but I caught sight of some movement in the grove of trees at the end of the yard, where I had seen him talking to Amber the previous night.
I cleared the yard at a gallop, but came to a halt at the edge of the grove. It was dark inside, and the fog around me had begun to thicken again. There were any number of places in there where he could get the drop on me. My muscles tensed as I ventured into the shadows, my powerful hind legs ready to buck at the slightest provocation.
I peered into every shadowy nook and crevice, behind every tree, and scanned the branches overhead, but could find absolutely no trace of the creature. A sudden rustling in the grass behind me caused me to whirl about in a rage, but I saw only a single frightened chipmunk. It admonished me with a chitter, and then turned and bolted up the nearest tree.
That feeling of unease, which had been growing on me ever since the previous night, became suddenly overwhelming, and I wanted nothing more than to be away from that place. I returned to the road at a quick trot, and the tension would not leave my muscles until the schoolhouse and the grove were completely out of sight.
When I arrived at Amber's house, her father informed me that she had gone out early that morning, but I was welcome to stay and wait for her if I pleased. Not long afterward I heard the doorbell ring, and Paprika and Silver Birch joined me in the sitting room. Amber's mother served us warm cider, and before long the encounter in the schoolyard had receded to the back of my mind.
After about an hour of waiting, we decided it might be more productive to go out into the town, and see if we could track down where Amber had went. We went around to the park and the sweet shop, and all the other places where foals typically hung around, but there was no sign and nopony had seen her. Unease was once again beginning to gnaw at me, and while I tried not to let it show, I was becoming increasingly anxious about her.
It was now late in the afternoon, and though the fog had long since cleared, daylight was beginning to fade. The shops in town were shutting down early for the festival. There were fewer and fewer places for us to search, so eventually we headed back to the park at the town center.
The work-ponies were busy setting up booths and games, or hanging up streamers and colored lanterns. We stood and watched them for a time, and then Paprika suggested that Amber might have gone to visit one of her other friends. She was quite popular in town, after all, and she'd been away for most of the year.
"Well, I hope she's having fun then," grumbled Silver, rather sourly. "It was a bit of a wasted day for us."
He sounded more than a little hurt by the whole thing.
"It's not like we made any definite plans," I said, kicking at a nearby pebble with my front hoof. "She has other friends."
"No, but we've barely even seen her...and she's going back tomorrow, isn't she?"
I could only shrug, and stare off at the earth ponies setting up jack-o-lanterns around the foot of the gazebo.
"We're sure to see her at the festival tonight," offered Paprika. "And in any case, I doubt she'll go back to Canterlot without saying goodbye to us."
We discussed it back and forth a while longer, but could only conclude that there was nothing else to be done for now. We promised to meet back up at the festival, and parted ways. Paprika took to the air, and Silver began walking back in the direction we'd come. Since their houses were close to each other, I assumed he would likely stop by Amber's one more time to see if she'd come home while we were out. But I had a strong feeling he would be disappointed.
The festival would not begin for another hour or two, and I had nowhere to go in the meantime, so I decided to keep walking. I wandered about in no particular direction and with no destination in mind, and as I did the shadows steadily grew longer, and the sky darker. Streetlights were being lit, and I began to pass small crowds of ponies dressed in costumes, families or groups of friends, headed in the other direction, towards the festival.
I happened to see a group of foals I knew from school, and flagged them down. I asked if any of them had seen Amber that day, and to my overwhelming relief one of them, a unicorn colt named Cinnamon, said that he had.
"We were down at the shop near the library, having a cup of cider," he told me. "It was quite a few of us down there."
Several of the other foals nodded in confirmation.
"What time was this?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm not sure exactly, couldn't have been more than a couple hours ago," he said. "They were getting ready to close, I remember that."
I knew the shop he was talking about; it was one of the first places we'd tried. It sounded as if we had missed seeing Amber there by at least an hour.
"Did anything about her seem...odd?"
Cinnamon looked a little confused. He turned to the other foals, who all shrugged and shook their heads.
"No, she seemed alright," he said. "We split up afterward, though. She said she had something else to do, but she'd be at the festival."
What they told me was reassuring, and I was actually beginning to feel a bit silly for having worried. However, there was still some peculiar feeling nagging me, and I knew I wouldn't be fully satisfied until I'd seen for myself that Amber was alright.
Cinnamon and the others were of course on their way to the festival, and asked if I wanted to join them, but I declined. I told them that I was on an errand, but would see them there later. We said goodbye, and headed off in separate directions.
By now the sun had completely gone down, and the still-overcast sky retained only the faintest glow. I came to the river, and then realized with a start that I had wandered past the northern boundary of the town. Before me was a long stretch of open grass dotted with one or two cottages, and beyond that rose the gloomy mass of the forest.
I was about to turn around and head back, when I caught sight of another pony not far away. With a start I realized that it was Amber Moon.
She was walking along the bank of the river toward the forest, a bit furtively I thought. She didn't answer when I called out, so I took off towards her at a gallop. The relief I felt at seeing her was like a tide washing over me; I'd had no idea just how worried I had actually been.
When I caught up with her, though, I was again uneasy. She was walking slowly with a strange gait, staring ahead of her as if in a trance, and she didn't even notice me until I was nearly on top of her. When finally she did, she turned to me with a strange expression I will never forget. Her face registered surprise, of course, but for a split second it was contorted with an intense anger, as though she'd been in the middle of doing something secret and important, and my presence had somehow spoiled everything for her.
It only lasted a second.
"Cortland," she said simply. "What are you doing here?"
I was a little out of breath from the sprint, and I found her quiet disdain unnerving.
"What am I doing here?" I sputtered. "What are you doing here?"
She blinked, as if the question had confused her.
"What am I..."
She looked around her, as if noticing her surroundings for the first time. The light was nearly gone, and I had a sudden profound sense of our isolation, not unlike what I had felt by the schoolhouse that morning. We were out past the borders of the town, and nearly the entire population would be at the festival by now anyway. What could possibly have driven her to come out this far by herself? I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew the answer.
"Come on!" I suddenly barked. She jumped a bit at the imperitive tone in my voice. "Everypony's gone to the festival, we should get down there too," I added, a little more gently.
"The festival..."
She said the words slowly, as though she wasn't quite sure what they meant. She glanced over her shoulder, in the direction of the forest, and then back at me. She had a sly look about her that I didn't care for.
"You go down," she said. "I'll catch up with you. I have something I need to do first."
I could hardly believe my ears.
"You have something to do first?" I repeated. She nodded. "In the middle of the night, at the outskirts of town."
"It's not the middle of the night, silly," she said curtly. "It's barely past sundown."
"That's hardly the point. What is it you have to do?"
"I--"
She glanced over her shoulder at the forest, and then back at me. Then back at the forest again. She was fidgeting rather impatiently, as though there were some pressing demand on her time and I was holding her up somehow. As I stood watching her, I began to feel a cold certainty that if I let her out of my sight now, I would never see her again.
"Come on!" I said again, perhaps a bit too forcefully. She bristled, and turned to me with an angry expression.
"Just leave me alone, Cortland," she snapped. "I have to meet somepony."
"I know who you're going to meet."
"You don't know anything!"
I took an involuntary step backward. For just a moment, her expression had been pure hatred. I had been friends with her for as long as I could remember, and she'd never looked at me with such an expression before. Without saying anything else, she turned abruptly and began walking away, along a narrow path that headed into the forest.
I trotted quickly after her.
"I'm going with you."
She glared at me and began walking faster, but I easily matched her pace. After a moment, she scowled and looked away.
"Suit yourself."
The dusty track we were on followed the path of the river, and disappeared into the Everfree. Dimly I remembered being told something about this path, that it was an old and seldom-used road that threaded its way through the forest and ran all the way to Canterlot.
The unease I'd been feeling all day swelled as we drew nearer to the line of trees, but Amber seemed unaffected. She didn't slow her pace, and in a moment we stepped through it, and the gloomy forest swallowed us whole.
"Where are you meeting him?" I asked in a low whisper.
Amber laughed scornfully.
"Why are you whispering?" she demanded loudly. "Are you scared? Nopony asked you to come with me."
I forced myself to straighten my posture.
"It's getting dark," I pointed out, doing my best to sound calm and rational. "And it's dangerous in here. This isn't the apple orchard. Do you want to spend the night lost in the forest?"
"We won't get lost if we stay on the road," she countered. "Here, I'll cast a light spell."
Her horn sparked to life, and the path ahead of us was bathed in a warm orange glow.
"There, is that better?"
"I suppose," I muttered.
The forest closed in around us, a thick dark tangle of gnarled trees and bushes and vines. The path still mostly followed the river, but it had grown much narrower, and the way was littered with stones and roots that made the passage slow. It was difficult in places to walk abreast, but I had no intention of letting her get too far ahead of me. She kept casting sly glances in my direction, and I had an inkling that if I let my guard down she might try to slip away from me.
I do not know for how long we walked. I have always held a suspicion that time works somewhat differently in the Everfree Forest. In the same way that weather and animals behave differently within its boundaries, I believe that everything that enters the forest falls subtly under the power of whatever magic governs it. We had stepped into a world that was beyond the control of ponies, and we were now subject to the laws of that place.
I continued along in this frame of mind, matching pace with Amber as we stumbled along the unfamiliar track. Eventually, a light splash of water glanced across my nose, causing me to blink, and then another, and another. I looked up at the dark, overcast sky, dimly visible through the canopy of trees, and sure enough I could see raindrops falling.
"It's beginning to rain," I observed. It was the first time either of us had spoken in what felt like ages, and my voice sounded unnaturally loud.
"So?" Amber demanded, rather crossly. She drew to a halt, and leaned up against a tree that jutted out over the gurgling river, panting heavily.
I noted with some satisfaction that she was having far more difficulty on this trip than I. Her usually pristine mane and coat were now matted with sweat and bramble and burs. I had spent most of my life working in the orchard, and while the path we were following was treacherous and uneven, I had little trouble adapting to it even in the dark. Amber, however, had never been nearly as keen on spending time outdoors as the rest of us, and a year in Canterlot had clearly domesticated her even further.
"Look," I said, taking advantage of the short rest. "This is getting silly. This fellow obviously isn't coming to meet you. Most likely he's played a joke on you."
Amber said nothing, and wouldn't meet my eyes. She glowered at the river, still panting a little, a sullen expression on her face.
"Let's just turn around," I continued. "We can probably still make the end of the festival, if we hurry. And in any case, if we're out too late, you're sure to catch it from your family when you go home--"
"I'm not going home."
The finality in her voice was shocking, and I stopped mid-sentence.
"I'm going to back to Canterlot early," she explained, as if sensing that she might have said something strange. "I...I've already told my family."
"You're going back to Canterlot," I repeated incredulously.
She nodded hesitantly.
"You're walking back to Canterlot."
"I went by the train station, but I was told it was too late, and the last train had already gone. I have an important exam that I need to study for, and I realized that I'd left my books in the dormitory, and..."
I could only listen in amazement as she spun this ridiculous story. It was not only a lie, but an obvious one. Today was a holiday, and I knew for a fact that there wouldn't have been any trains running, let alone any late trains going all the way to Canterlot. And there was no way her family would have allowed her to go back on her own on such short notice.
"This is silly," I said again, cutting her off. "You can't walk all the way back there on your own."
"I'm not on my own," she said, rather slyly. "You're with me, aren't you?"
"Only because I found you by chance. You were planning to go alone."
The sly smile left her face, and she glared at me.
"Go back, then, if you're scared."
She wheeled around abruptly, and started off down the path again. I hastened to catch up, refusing to let her out of my sight.
We had been walking for what felt like hours, and by that time the rain was coming down in sheets. The path ahead of us was muddy, and the going was even slower than it had been before. We were completely drenched, and the cold made us even more miserable.
Beside me, Amber gave out a sudden shriek. We were on a particularly narrow ridge that rose about nine or ten feet over the river below, with a steep hill on the other side. Amber had slipped on the mud, and I wheeled about just in time to see her sliding over the edge. I sprang forward and caught her front hooves just before she went completely over.
"Amber!" I shouted.
She managed to gain a hoofhold on the cliff face with her hind legs, and with my help was able to scramble back up onto the path. She stood pressed against me, breathing heavily and shaking.
"This is insane," I said. We both stared into the chasm of rushing water below the cliff, watching as a couple of loose stones fell over the edge. "We have to go back."
Amber was clearly terrified, but she shook her head resolutely.
"No," she whispered. "We can't go back."
I looked around, exasperated. I realized that, whatever mad force was spurring her onward, she wasn't wrong about our situation. At this point, it would be as dangerous to go back as it would be to continue. I squinted through the rain at the path ahead. Once it rounded the hill it veered away from the river into a wooded stretch that was more or less level, but from there I could see it switchbacking up the side of an even taller hill. Making a climb like that in these conditions would be suicide.
Then, I spotted it. Just off the path, situated between a couple of low hills, was a clearing. And in the clearing stood an old, dilapidated stone hut.
"This rain isn't letting up," I told her plainly. "And if it gets any colder, we'll have to worry about ice on top of everything else. At the rate we're going, we'll die before we make it anywhere near Canterlot."
Amber hesitated. I could plainly see the terror on her face; she understood how close she had just come to death, and how serious our situation now was. However, it was equally clear that whatever mad spirit had possessed her was not about to let her go. Something had called her into these woods, and whatever it was, it was now tugging at her with a ferocity that she couldn't hope to resist.
I abandoned any hope of convincing her to turn around, and pointed instead to the hut.
"Let's go hole up in there," I said. "We can warm ourselves and get some rest. When the weather clears up, if there's no ice, we can keep on going to Canterlot. Otherwise we wait until morning. How does that sound?"
Amber hesitated, and then nodded.
Treading carefully, we made our way around the final bend, breathing heavily as we stepped away from the ravine and into the clearing. The hut looked very old and seldom-used, but the roof and door seemed to be intact, as were the thick shutters that were closed fast across all the windows. We were not likely to find a better piece of shelter.
It took some fumbling and a bit of Amber's magic, but we were finally able to get the door open. The hut was a simple one-room building, thick stone walls and a sturdy wooden roof. The floor was also stone, and though it was dusty and a bit claustrophobic inside, it was at least dry.
Amber sneezed, and I noticed she was shivering. I then noticed that I was also shivering. Without the struggle of the path to focus on, the sheer stupidity of our actions finally hit home. What in Equestria were we doing out here? What had possessed Amber to ever embark on such a foolish journey? Why hadn't I stopped her?
I turned on her, intending to yell for a bit, but the words froze in my throat when I saw the state she was in. She was crouching down on her haunches, shivering and soaked through to her skin. Her coat was plastered with mud and grime. It was the look in her eyes, though, that kept me from admonishing her. The slyness and deception I'd seen that had so unnerved me earlier was gone, and in its place was a sort of mad terror. Even now, in the relative safety of the hut, something unseen was still calling to her, beckoning her out into the woods and towards death.
I put a foreleg around her shoulder and nudged her back up onto her hooves.
"Come on," I said gently. "There's a hearth in the corner, and what looks like a woodpile. Do you think you can manage a fire spell?"
She looked up at me and nodded.
The woodpile by the hearth had clearly sat for a long time. While there were a couple of spiders that needed chasing off, the wood was thankfully dry, and there was plenty of it. I busied myself arranging some logs in the hearth, while Amber used her tail to sweep clean a little area in front of it. Fire spells could be a bit tricky, she explained, but fortunately she'd practiced them quite a bit last term. She had plenty of false starts trying to summon enough heat to ignite the wood, but focusing on the task seemed to take her mind off of our troubles, and when we finally had a blaze going she looked a little cheerier.
We lay down on the floor in front of the hearth. Neither of us felt much like talking, but it was comfortable, and soon we felt drier and considerably warmer. We lay there in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire and the thrumming of rain against wooden shingles.
At some point I must have nodded off, for I recall suddenly jolting awake and realizing that the rain had stopped. There was a moment of panic where I worried that Amber might have taken the opportunity to slip away, but I saw that she was still in the same place she'd been, curled up asleep in front of the fire.
The flames were looking a bit low, so I retrieved another log from the pile and threw it on. As I stood tending to the fire, however, I began to feel an eerie sensation. A tingle ran up my spine, and I suddenly had the idea that there was something behind me.
I wheeled around. It was still night and the shutters were pulled fast over all the windows, but the fire provided enough illumination to confirm that we were indeed alone in the hut. However, the eerie feeling would not leave me.
I glanced back at Amber, and immediately saw that she had felt it too. She was still lying on the floor in the same position, but her eyes had opened and her head had turned. She was staring at the entrance to the hut, and in the dim firelight I could see that she was trembling. Her lips parted slightly, and she gave out a low, pitiful, terrified groan.
A shiver ran up my spine again, and slowly I turned towards where she was looking. The door of the hut was still shut tight and showed no signs of opening, but as I stared at it, I knew with absolute certainty that there was something on the other side.
Amber was still lying curled up on the floor. She was no longer looking at the door, but was now just staring off into the distance as though in a catatonic trance, from time to time making that horrible groaning sound.
I took a step towards the door, and then another, and another. When I reached it I glanced over my shoulder, but Amber hadn't moved. She was still lying curled up in front of the fire, staring at nothing.
I nudged open the latch with my nose. Slowly, agonizingly, the door creaked open, and I stepped out into the cold night.
The sky was completely clear now, and the Mare in the Moon was glaring down at us from her cold high throne. The forest was still wet from the rain. I looked around the clearing, and saw that it was empty. However, I didn't go back inside. Keeping my eyes forward, I gently nudged at the door with my hind leg, until I heard it latch securely behind me.
I stood perfectly still, waiting, breathing in the smell of decaying leaves and pine needles. The forest was still and empty, but I waited. Sure enough, I eventually saw signs of movement in the trees, and a moment later the form of a griffon stepped forward into the moonlight.
I nodded to him, like I'd been expecting him. He smiled in that leering, unpleasant way, and took a step forward. I didn't move.
"Move it, kid," he said. His voice was oily and unpleasant, and almost seemed to come from far away. "This is my house."
I shook my head slowly.
"Sorry, I'm afraid we're using it," I said. "You'll have to come back later."
The griffon gave out a short, sneering cackle, and lurched forward as if to strike. However, I held my ground and didn't flinch. The griffon snarled, made an odd swiping motion at the air with his claw, and then withdrew to the place he'd stood before.
My instincts had been right. I wasn't sure how exactly, but somehow I understood the rules. So long as I held my ground in front of the door, the griffon could not enter the hut, and Amber would be safe.
The creature snarled again in frustration, but a moment later that oily calm came over him again.
"You'd better move, kid," he said. "You'll move if you know what's good for you."
I said nothing and held my ground. The griffon narrowed his eyes, then shrugged and smiled.
"Suit yourself."
I have only the vaguest recollection of what transpired next. I have mentioned before that time seems to pass according to different rules in the Everfree, and there was without a doubt some strange magic working that night. I stood facing off against the creature, for a time that might have been minutes or hours or years. At times, the air around us would take on an almost fluid quality, and I could feel myself slipping into something like a trance. The griffon would slide a bit closer, testing the space in front of him with his claws, and I would begin to feel as though I were being pulled underwater. Then, from somewhere behind me, I would hear Amber making that low, frightened moan, and I would pull myself suddenly awake. The griffon would snarl in frustration and be forced back.
At length, I began to sense that a great deal of time had passed, and whatever magic was in the air was growing faint. The autumn moon had slipped below the trees, and its light was slowly being replaced by the grey glow of dawn.
The griffon was pacing back and forth in front of me, from time to time clawing at the air and snarling. He still wore an expression of oily composure, but I thought I sensed a bit of desperation in his movements now.
"Move it, kid!" he finally growled. "Move it, or you're done for."
I said nothing.
The griffon stopped pacing, and calmly ran a claw through the mane of feathers on top of his head. He smiled, patronizingly, but there was a definite air of panic about him now.
"Look, kid," he said smoothly, as though we'd gotten off on the wrong hoof and he just wanted to make things right. "This doesn't concern you at all. Look."
He gestured with a claw down the path, in the direction we'd come. The path wound back around the hill and out over the ravine, threading its way through the trees until it was lost in the distance.
"Let me alone, and you can just go home, easy as that," he continued. "Nothing will stop you. You'll be home and in your nice, warm bed before you even know it. Just head on home, and that will be the end of it. I'll never bother you again."
Now it was my turn to smile.
"You know what I think?" I said. "I think you're just about finished. I think that whatever magic you're drawing from is spent, and you're out of time. You're nothing."
His oily demeanor evaporated in an instant, and his features twisted with rage.
"I'll show you nothing!" he snarled, and with that he spread his wings and claws and sprang forward.
A sudden gust of wind rose up, and I was at once assaulted by a strong, putrid, sepulchral odor. The griffon was dead; he'd always been dead. His half rotten form lunged towards me, a gaping beak and a skull with empty sockets, two skeletal wings spread out, a few black rotting feathers clinging to them. The creature gave out a long, hateful shriek, and a black chasm opened in the air behind him.
The apparition lasted only a fraction of a second, and then it was gone, blowing apart like smoke. A faint odor of death lingered in the air for a moment, and a single rotted feather drifted down to land at my hooves. Then, another gust of wind rose up and blew it away, carrying it towards the ravine, where it drifted over the edge and disappeared.
I blinked and shook my head. I drew in several deep breaths, attempting to slow my racing heart. The air smelled pleasantly of damp leaves and pine needles, and there was no trace of corruption on it. The sun had just begun to rise, and rays of golden light were breaking through the trees. All around, the morning birds were beginning to sing.
When I went back into the hut I found Amber awake, warming her hooves in front of what was left of the fire. With a pang of jealousy I observed that she looked remarkably well-rested.
"Where did you go, Cortland?" she asked. "I was beginning to get worried."
I yawned, wide enough that my jaw cracked.
"Just out," I muttered. I was suddenly dog-tired, and felt as though I could lie down and sleep for a thousand years.
"You shouldn't go wandering about in the woods by yourself," she admonished. "It's dangerous."
I felt a sudden urge to spin around and buck every last one of her teeth out, but then I noticed the wry smile on her face, and together we burst out laughing.
Even though she still looked an absolute mess (as I assumed I did as well), she had completely regained her composure, and I could see no trace of either the fear or the madness from the night before. She apologized quite nicely for having dragged me out on such a strange errand, saying that she had "no idea" what had come over her. Whatever the cause, we both agreed that it had been silly to try and walk all the way to Canterlot, and that the thing to do now would be to make it home as quickly as possible.
I don't know how much she actually remembered; even I was beginning to feel as though the entire night had just been a strange dream. However, it was clear from looking into her eyes that she was deeply grateful that I had come along with her. I had saved her life and she knew it, and there was no need to discuss anything more in detail.
On a clear day in the light of early morning, the forest did not look nearly as foreboding, and getting back was far easier than getting out there had been. I was amazed to discover that we hadn't come nearly as far into the woods as I'd thought; we had only walked for about three quarters of an hour when the forest suddenly gave way to open grassland, and we were once again standing at the outskirts of Ponyville.
The morning was still quite chilly, but after nearly freezing to death in the rain the previous night we barely noticed. Before entering the town proper we stopped and had a quick wash in the river, getting ourselves as presentable-looking as we possibly could. Though we still caught a couple of odd glances from townsponies who were out and about, it was still quite early and most of the town hadn't stirred yet.
I walked Amber as far as her street, at which point she told me that it was best if we parted company. I couldn't imagine the wild tale she'd have to spin in order to explain where she'd been all night, but I had a sneaking suspicion she'd be just fine. Amber had always had a talent for making ponies believe whatever she wanted them to, and nopony was as susceptible to this talent as her own parents were.
For myself, I was too exhausted to be worried. I walked back through the orchards in a near stupor, and while I admit that my pace quickened somewhat as I passed the schoolyard, I encountered nothing malevolent. My father and brothers were awake and doing chores when I made it back. I can't recall even the slightest detail of the story I spun, though I believe it involved staying at Paprika's house after the festival. I had little doubt that Paprika would have enough sense to back me up if he were ever questioned about it, and in any case my father didn't press me. He just gave a noncomittal grunt, and went back to his chores, while I wandered up to my room to sleep.
Amber Moon returned to Canterlot later that afternoon, and fortunately I managed to wake up in time to see her off at the train station. Silver Birch and Paprika were there as well, Silver looking a bit sullen and melancholy, and Paprika his usual jovial self.
I was not questioned any further about where I had gone on the night of the festival, but from time to time I noticed my grandfather looking at me strangely. One morning, when the two of us were alone at breakfast, I asked, as casually as I was able, whether or not he knew of any griffons that had ever lived in Ponyville. He did not seem particularly surprised, nor did he ask why I wanted to know. Instead, he calmly told me the following tale:
Some forty or fifty years back, there had indeed been a pair of griffons who lived in Ponyville, a father and a son. The father liked his cider, and was known to have something of a violent temper. He eked out a modest living doing odd jobs around town, and the two of them lived in a run-down house near the river.
One summer, the father disappeared. The rumor in town was that he owed a lot of money to some shady organization out of Manehattan, and that he'd fled because they'd finally tracked him down. The younger griffon stayed behind, but couldn't afford the rent on the house, and eventually the owner had kicked him out.
Despite having no home and no apparent interest in work, the young griffon continued to hang around Ponyville. It was believed that he had taken up residence in an old abandoned way-station in the Everfree Forest, just outside the town. He developed a reputation as something of a local bully, hassling foals and some of the younger working-ponies. From time to time he would turn up at the cider-house his father had frequented, carrying a suspiciously large pouch full of bits. He would never say just where he'd gotten the money, but most believed it was from shaking down the younger ponies.
Things came to a head when one day a young filly went missing on her way home from school. It was never found out just what had happened to her, but her saddlebag and a scarf she had worn were eventually discovered washed up on the riverbank, near the old Canterlot road that led up past the way-station.
By this time, the young griffon had more than worn out his welcome in town. A group of townsponies assembled (though he never stated it explicitly, I understood that my grandfather had been among them), and together they went out to the old way-station where the griffon was staying. They confronted him, extracted a satisfactory confession, and settled the matter, and the griffon was never seen in Ponyville again. This had been done on the night of the Festival of the Autumn Moon.
When my grandfather had finished, he of course asked me why I had wanted to know about such an old and unpleasant story. I began with the usual evasions one might expect, but by and by the whole story of my night in the forest with Amber came out. My grandfather listened calmly, expressing neither disbelief nor anger, and when I had finished he told me simply that there was still work to be done.
The next morning, indeed on the last day before the Running of the Leaves, he and I took a short walk along the Canterlot Road into the Everfree Forest. My grandfather was an old pony, nearing seventy, but I must confess that his speed and agility in traversing that difficult path put me quite to shame. We arrived at the stone hut at around midmorning, and after searching about the grounds for a bit, my grandfather found a place that seemed to strike his fancy, and together we began to dig. Sure enough, we had soon unearthed a set of griffon bones. At the sight of them, I felt a familiar eerie chill run up my spine, and for just a second, I thought I detected a whiff of rot in the air.
Under my grandfather's direction, we removed the bones and wrapped them in a woven blanket he'd brought along. He sprinkled them with some sort of wine, and then we wrapped them up in the blanket and continued along the path.
We followed the switchbacking trail up the hill I'd seen before. At the very top there was another clearing, and here my grandfather instructed me once again to dig. We dug another hole, about twice the depth of the first one, and then tossed the bones, still wrapped up in the blanket, to the bottom. We filled in the hole, and under my grandfather's direction constructed a small cairn of stones on the spot, and he bowed his head and muttered a strange sounding prayer.
It was well into afternoon by the time we finished, and neither of us had any strong desire to stay in the forest much longer. On the way back, my grandfather explained that the Everfree Forest was an ancient place, where old gods and even older magic still held dominion. Such magic was beyond the control of ponies, and one could never be quite certain just what to expect from it.
We returned to the farm, and until now, I have never spoken of any of these things to anypony. To the best of my knowledge the cairn still stands, and there have been no further incidents surrounding any of the autumn festivals.
The rest of the year passed without incident. The following spring, Silver Birch once again took the entrance exam to Celestia's school, and this time he passed. Paprika and I saw him off at the train station, and I've never seen him happier. Though I understand he did well there, as far as Amber went he had unfortunately missed his chance. She was a year ahead of him, and already moving in different circles.
The four of us would remain friends, but sadly time has a way of causing ponies to drift apart. Amber's life continued to take her further away from her roots in Ponyville. Silver continued to hopelessly chase after her for a time, until eventually he didn't anymore. They both wound up marrying into prominent unicorn families in Canterlot.
For my part, I would remain in Ponyville the longest. I had lived there my whole life, and unlike my friends I had no particular interest in whatever lay beyond. However, when Paprika finally left, I began to grow restless. I wandered for a time, and eventually wound up managing one of the Apple family's concerns in Vanhoover.
Though Amber and I followed very different paths, of our original group of four, she and I would remain the closest. Even after she married and moved permanently to Canterlot, we would continue to write and visit each other, and there were times, particularly on cold rainy nights, when she became silent and thoughtful, and liked to be close to me. Eventually I got married myself, and of course had foals and grandfoals. But even so, I knew that Amber and I belonged to each other, in a way that neither of us could ever belong to anypony else.
