My name is Rainbow Dash, I feel like I should get that taken care of before I write anything else, before we, before me and this stranger die forever nameless in this foreboding cave. I'm sure we will never be found, and I'm sure I'm writing this for nothing, but I have to do something.

The entrance has fallen in. I… I think I threw that wolf against the wall just a bit too hard…

We can not get out.

It would be us alone in the dark if it wasn't for the fire the stranger had prepared.

The fire… the stranger has done nothing but stare at it since before my waking, to the footpads of several hungry wolves…seven or twenty I could not tell, so wrapped up was I in the battle. But I took care of it, me the amazing Rainbow Dash!

It doesn't feel so good, winning all alone…with nopony there to fight by my side, and there is no way out.

I'll die here in this cave …with this stranger who stares into the flame.

Wake up! Blink?! Say something.? Anything.

But the stranger only stares
…. and shivers as if in a cold sweat, sweat pours down, and still they stare deeply into the flame, saying and doing nothing.

At least we have the flame to fend against the cold.

I'm tempted to skin the wolves for extra warmth…as the kindling won't last forever…

With some digging I have found some food in the strangers pack, but that will not last even the week.

It feels wrong to take other creatures' parts for our use, but then again they were trying to kill us.

Perhaps they succeeded.

No… no this was my fault

Reader, if you find this, know it was my fault. I should have died in Canterlot…at least then I wouldn’t take this stranger with me to doom.

I should have died in Canterlot.

The professor set the ancient manuscript aside and rubbed her eyes… She had read the letter again and again and again, and it still made no sense.

It had been dug up in the deep desert, miles and miles away from any mountains, and so far away from any death defying cold… and it was written in blood on a hide that had been tanned and long dried in the sun.

At this she shivered.
What could drive a creature to do such a thing?

She glanced at it again, peering over the top of her glasses, what else could she infer about the writing.

The font tilted in a certain way, almost a reverse italic… written by mouth then… That probably meant some creature that was not a unicorn. Although there were notable exceptions to this theory, the old Cycles told as much.

That was it! That was what the manuscript reminded her of.

She swiveled around in her chair and began browsing the titles which perched each meticulously, one against the other upon the ancient book case, and finally she found it.

She removed a paper-back blowing dust from its crumbling cover, the title etched in red.

The Canterlot Cycles
Newly abridged for young Readers

Once Upon a time in the magical land of Equestria, there lived six matriarchs each of which presided over reality in their own way.

There was the Lady Cúthail who presided over all of nature, all of the green things of the world, and all of the running, hopping, flying things that lived and breathed in the land, and the seasons which forever turned with her nature, which were her domain, her creation.

There was Lady Ulla who resided over the red crisp fertile earth, as well as the mighty mountains, the very strength of the land itself. It was said that it was she who molded the Giants out of stone, and who called lightning from the very sky.

There was Lady Píosa who was said to touch the heart of everypony with the gift of song, and poetry, it was her that laid the tales to bear, and from her the nature of every good hearted soul.

There was the Lady Muileata, who gifted Stallions with the urge to craft, and to make, but also to fight, and raze. It was said that she was the most beautiful of all, many would die in her honor. Many beautiful things were made in her name, and much cold steel and much blood was spilt.

And there was the Lady Tráthnóna of death and of life, who died in the service of her friends, but whose power continues to radiate through the land, the very essence of magic itself.

There was the Lady Brostaigh the courageous.

It was said she never spoke, but even today many of true valor speak her oath saying;

I am a soldier of Brostaigh

Brostaigh's values are my values
And her sword is my sword.

I swear to remain Loyal and true
Courteous and Kind
Honest and Brave.

I swear
To give aid to those in need,
And to uphold the weak
Spreading hope wherever I may be, cave or desert or sea,
Against wolves or darkness or eldredge unknown,

It is this magic that will guide my sword and my will.

I am the eyes of the night and the wings of the dawn and by this creed will I fly
by this Creed I swear.

It was said that it was she who gathered the matriarchs in the first place, uniting them against the great darkness that beseeched the land in that day.

Author's Note

More to come 😁