Survival Against All Odds

Isabel had urged the group to walk by the treeline. Forests bordered the sandy beach and their path was adorned with sticks, twigs and clingy mud. It had been hours now. Initially, they had begun by trudging through the beach, but walking on the sand had proven to be difficult enough that trudging through mud was better. Mud was worse as a pony; it could cling to your hooves and threaten never to let go, dragging you down as if you were treading quicksand.

Yet they kept going.

The first time Isabel stopped to make a mark in a tree with her knife was difficult. Holding a knife with her mouth gave her pretty poor dexterity and made it difficult to cut through the thick bark. Her first mark was barely a scratch and her second wasn't much better. Though both were recognisably unnatural, neither were what she was really looking for. She needed something with a lot less ambiguity.

Given the circumstances, she was happy enough that she hadn't managed to cut herself. An open wound could be an omen of infection. Particularly in mud as deep and thick as it was.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” Emma asked idly, “I was expecting us to find a town before nightfall, a house at the least.”

“I don’t know,” Isabel eyed the setting sun, “but I think we need to stop and make camp for the night.” Nodded agreement came from the others. All of them were terribly tired and it was an ideal spot. A tiny bubbling brook ran across the beach a few hundred metres away and the forest floor was littered with leafy branches and logs.

“Alright everyone!” Henry stepped up to lead once again, “We need three people on shelter, two people on firewood and someone on water.” There was a little chatter as people determined their roles. “I’ll do the shelter,” Henry volunteered himself, “and Oscar and Emma will help.”

“Me and Phoebe will get firewood,” Isabel quickly volunteered, not wanting to leave her friend alone.

“Works for me,” Aiden agreed, and the group quickly scattered.

It was lucky that good wood seemed to be abundant. A beach was hardly the worst place to be stranded; it had a good climate, plentiful resources and an amicable temperature. The twigs made a crisp snapping sound as they wandered through the wood, evidence of their suitability for fire lighting. “We’re looking for thin, dry twigs,” Isabel explained, “dead stuff is usually quite good.”

“Ok,” Phoebe wandered over to a bush, “like this one?”

“That one’s wet,” Isabel explained, finding a dead tree of her own, “something more like this. I need a lot of little sticks to get the fire going.”

“Lots of little sticks,” Phoebe repeated. There was a second of silence before she added, “Do you really think we’ll find anyone?”

“I have to,” Isabel smiled, “we all have to. If we believe hard enough, we’ll make it come true.”

“I suppose so,” Phoebe despondently replied, “I just. I’m worried about it all. Why did we come here? Why ponies of all creatures? And why us?”

“I understand,” Isabel offered a little reassurance, “Once we’re a little safer, we can ask those questions.”

“We’re about as safe as it’ll get,” Phoebe pessimistically replied, “I don’t know why but… I’m terrified of what’s out there. Just think about it, if you can be a literal pegasus, a creature from legends, who knows what else is out there.”

“You’re right, it is scary,” Isabel admitted, “but let’s keep thinking of this like an adventure and we'll be sure to find our way home. I promise.”

Phoebe nodded voice fading as she spoke, “Yeah. Just keep going. Easy.”

“Come on, we have plenty of wood now,” Isabel pointed a wing, “let’s go back and make ourselves some warmth.”

They had to stack wood and twigs on one another’s backs to get them back to the campsite but after a few trips they managed to transport all of it back to their firepit. Hauling over large stones with their teeth and cursing the horrid taste of sandy stone, they made a little circle for the future flames. At last, Isabel got out her knife. It was something she was dreading. Sharp and deadly, fine knife work with her mouth would likely be near impossible. Carving marks in a tree was one thing, but cutting twigs was something else. Best case it would be terribly dangerous. Getting that close to her hooves with a grip that insecure made her feel almost sick.

Using her hooves seemed sensible enough alternative, their flat surfaces didn't provide much grip, but she could hold it just right and get a little more movement than when she clamped her teeth down on the hilt. However if she wanted to do anything on the move, she’d need a different method. She would have to learn how to put her wings to use.

It seemed to be an insurmountable task. How could she even move a limb that she wasn't supposed to have, let alone use it effectively enough to do safe knife work safely.

She had felt the muscles she needed before, wings had a kind of mobility she hardly thought possible, however using those muscles was a different beast. The first few minutes of attempts yielded little fruit and she struggled to get the appendage to stay where she wanted. She kept trying. Another few minutes passed and every attempt she had to visualise the muscles contracting behind her. Eventually, she got it to stay still in front of her. Hardly much, but it was a start. A smile crossed her face. She could do this. Using this strange feathery thing was actually possible.

Sunlight glinted crimson red across the westward horizon and the fire was still yet to be started. Isabel had spent almost an hour trying to get her wing to move the way she needed it to. Shakily and scarily, Isabel held the knife with a weak cradle. She could have done better, if she had more time, only managing to hold the blade by wrapping her wing lightly around it, but it was progress. Tomorrow she could try it again and get her wings to work properly.

Henry’s group had no better luck with the shelter. All of them knew how it needed to go together, two poles between the trees and another down the back, nothing fancy, but it would work. Knowing wasn't the problem. However, lacking hands, they were unable to perform even the simplest of lifting and carrying. Not of anything much heavier than a bowling ball. They’d just have to hope it didn’t rain tonight.

Hope. A great start to survival.

The only person with any true success seemed to be Aiden. With Phoebe’s help, they’d managed to harvest six bottles of water from the adjacent stream. All of it would need purifying before it could be drank, but they needed the fire for that. A fire Isabel was desperately trying to construct.

Glinting off the fine blade, the light reminded her of how quickly any mistake could be fatal. All it would take was a small slip and the misfortune of an infection and she'd be racing the clock to get home before the bacterium could kill her. No matter how much she didn't want to do it, the task persisted and she remained the only sensible person for the job for no one else could even attempt to hold a knife without sticking it half heartedly into their mouths.

She was at least a bit firmer with the knife in her wing than her mouth and once she got used to it, she would be able to cut proper marks into the trees that they passed. That'd help any potential rescuer a lot.

Breaking up her smallest twigs into kindling was nerve wracking, every time she brought the knife sharply down she winced in anticipation of an injury. A harsh movement, a nervous flinch and repeat. Despite her fear, she never cut herself, and soon enough she had a little pile of kindling.

Luckily one of the others had the foresight to pack some matches and soon the kindling was alight. For a while she struggled to maintain the flames with her new body finding it difficult to accurately place the sticks where she intended to. After a few minutes though, she got the hang of it.

As soon as the fire was stable enough, Emma chanced distracting her.

“Hey Izzy,” She jumped up behind her, startling the pegasus, “I have wings, you have wings…”

“Yes,” Isabel laughed, “we can have a go at gliding. No flying though. Even if we had physics defying magic and actually could get off the ground we'd burn through about a bajillion calories.”

“That's fine. I found this perfect spot,” Emma rushed down the beach, “there's this rock and it's got a great spot to jump from so we can glide across the sand which can soften our fall and it won't hurt much and I think that's everything we need and...”

"Alright, keep it cool, we don't even know if gliding is possible yet," Isabel chuckled.

"I bet it is," Emma excitedly replied, bounding even faster away from Isabel.

Standing like a resolute solder scanning the sea, a sloped stone stood at the edge of the beachfront. Emma was right about one thing, it looked perfect for gliding practice. One side rose gently, which would make climbing it with hooves easy, while the other was steep, making it the optimal spot to jump from.

“What do you think?” Emma asked proudly.

“It looks great, have you tried it yet?”

“Not yet,” Emma jumped up the boulder, “but watch me. I'm going to be a natural.” She jumped off the rock.

It was a good thing that the ground was sand.

“Okay, maybe not the first time,” she admitted, picking herself up from the beach and shaking the course sand from her fur. Isabel stood laughing on the side lines.

“Don't laugh,” Emma protested.

"Natural indeed," Isabel smiled.

"Oh yeah? Think you're such an expert do you?" Emma challenged, “I wanna see you do any better.”

Taking her up on the bet, Isabel scaled the rock. She took a jump, a fall and a face full of dirt. Clearly both of them were rubbish fliers.

“This isn't over,” Emma chuckled, “I'm definitely going to figure out how to fly before you.”

“Bring it on,” Isabel competitively argued.

Equally as awful at soaring, the two pegasi practised deep into the night. Neither of them was about to let the other be the first to take to the air.

They needed three things the first time they tried: wing position, confidence and momentum. Had Oscar been with them, he would undoubtedly have told them the optimal wing angle for the greatest possible distance given the wind and atmospheric adjustments himself. Thankfully he wasn't. Isabel didn't really want a flight lesson, she wanted flight training.

Confidently, Isabel raced up the rock and threw herself off the stone. By keeping her wings gently tilted, she managed to slow her fall. Soft and cool, the air passed over her feathers dancing through each of them before leaving forever. It was magical. Then it was over, soon as it had begun.

“Yeah!” Isabel shouted, “I got it!”

Emma was quick to mimic her results and landed unsteadily beside her. Without needing to speak, a wave of immeasurable pride passed between them. They'd done something impossible; they'd flown. Not only had they managed to fly, but they'd done it completely on their own.

Returning to camp in a wave of glory, they found the others asleep.

“We've been gone that long?” Emma asked in surprise, “It felt like half an hour.”

“I'm going to guess they've eaten,” Isabel fumbled about for a pair of granola bars and lamely tossed one to her fellow pegasus, “eat one of those and hopefully, they're still good. We might need to start foraging tomorrow if we don't want to starve.”

“Yeah,” Emma looked frightened by the mention of starvation, “I forget sometimes that we're going to die out here.”

“Come on,” Isabel optimistically retorted, “we're not dead yet and there's plenty of chance of rescue.”

“No one's going to rescue a bunch of unexplainable horses,” Emma replied.

“Why not?”

“Would you?” She asked, “I know you think we're in some magical fantasy wonderland but what if we're not. Then no rescue is coming. We're doomed.”

“We're not doomed,” Isabel argued, “we can survive out here. Sure, it'll take a few rough nights while we figure this whole thing out but all of us are going to make it out alive.”

“Thanks,” Emma gave a smile, “knowing you believe in it makes me feel a little better.”

“Get some sleep,” Isabel plopped herself down on the grass beside their fire. In the absence of any shelter, hopes and prayers would be the only thing shielding them from the cold through the night.

Despite her optimism, despair was beginning to set in. Isabel could only hide behind her mask of optimism for so long. The group was living on borrowed time and the interest was almost due.

Tomorrow was going to be much harder.