Considering the various biomes and biotropes that existed throughout Equestria, the forest had always been one that throughout all ages of pony-kind had been of particular interest. The exact cause of this charm tended to be difficult to discern completely, with every pony who faced its allure arriving at a different conclusion. Despite this confusion, there were certain themes that came to them all. That it was a strange place, so unlike the towns and towers that ponies now dwelt in—an a place that even in the modern age there was some deep-seated part of their pony consciousnesses that left each and every one of them vaguely and troublingly disconcerted.

This might well have been the cause of endemic eccentricy in the unicorn population, but even earth-ponies and pegasi still felt a call to the trees. And hence, so had developed the hobby of camping.

The sun had passed below the tops of the verdant trees and turned the eastern skies into a beautiful, shining sunset that was slowly fading as day progressed back to night. The horizon had become a great rainbow that would fade to deep blue, purple, and finally black, allowing the stars to come out. And, at a campsite deep in this forest, a group of six friends had set up camp.

Sunny Starscout stared into to the sunset and shivered slightly. Although it was late summer, the air carried a strange chill. The trees moved softly in the breeze, the leaves producing a chorus of distant rustling. Somewhere, an animal skittered by unseen.

“Hey,” she said, turning back to her friends. “How are you two doing with the fire?”

Zipp groaned from the log she was lying on. “Well, I did manage to find all the wood for it. So it probably would have been ready about a half moon ago if someone had lit it.”

“Ahem,” retorted Hitch, measuring the distance between the ring of rocks that he had built around the neatly-stacked wood in the center. “This is a delicate operation, you can’t just rush it!” He looked back to his instruction manual. “There’s a correct way to make a fire. It’s right here in the fire-safety manual. I should know. I wrote it.” He produced a notebook, and several sets of papers. “AND there’s also considerations for campground parameters for maximum size, rules on the type of wood we can use, and I had to check it all for poison ivy...don’t you know that only YOU can prevent wildfires?” He looked around. “Now I just need to find a way to light it...”

“Um...I think I can help, maybe?” Misty approached quietly from the shadows. “I mean, if it’s ready, I mean.”

Zipp sat up. “Do you have matches or something?”

“Um...no,” admitted Misty. “But um...well...” She sighed, and her horn sparked. It clicked several times before the pile of sticks for the campfire suddenly ignited with a burst of extreme heat and blinding light. Hitch cried out, possibly devoid of an eyebrow. He fell back as the fire dimmed to what would normally be expected for an ordinary campfire.

Sunny, partially blinded by the flash, blinked several times. “Wow, Misty, where did you learn how to do that?”

“Sometimes the voices in my dreams tell me how to burn things,” she said. She slowly looked up to where Zipp and Sunny were staring at her, aghast. “That’s a joke. It’s pyromancy, it’s not hard to learn.”

“Are my eyebrows still on?” asked Hitch. "Both of them? I feel...smooth?"

“Sure,” lied Zipp, flapping over to him and helping him up.

“You think I’d be used to it from doing all the biannual fireplace inspections. And also the woodstoves. And not the kind of biennial where it’s once every two years. I mean every six months. You can never be to careful with fire.” He gasped slowly. “Oh no, the extinguishers, I need to refill the extinguishers!”

“Hey, hey,” said Sunny. “Not today. You’re on vacation, remember?”

Hitch managed to catch his breath. “Yeah. You’re right. Camping. We’re camping.”

“We sure are,” said Zipp, leaning back in the glow of the fire. “Outdoors, roasting marshmallows, campfires, waking up early, hiking, tents, going to the bathroom outside...”

“Um, eew, no,” said Pipp as she fluttered by, a trail of tea lights hanging from her grasp. She floated over to the Mare Stream, which now had an extensive tent attached to one end with a false-grass pad and a small fence built around it. She hung the lights and landed back down on a comfortable chair, flipping on an electric heater and a coffee maker.

“Pipp, no...that doesn’t count! That’s not even camping!”

“Um, excuse me, I’m outside, aren’t I?” she leaned back on her chair, taking a selfie. She gestured toward a stack of equipment linked to the Mane Stream’s power inverter. “I’ve got heat, AC, mini-fridge, coffee, and a high-bandwidth wifi hot spot.”

“So you can upload pictures of you glamping?”

“That’s an ugly word, isn’t it? It’s ‘Luxury Camping’. And it is so in...” She looked down at herself. “I actually brought clothes, too. Maybe I should try on a different outfit to make me seem more...you know, outdoorsy?”

“But you are outdoors,” protested Sunny, before stopping herself. “Never mind. Have you seen Izzy?”

“Did we lose her again?” groaned Zipp.

Sunny froze, hoping they did not—because tracking her down in the dark would be an incredible pain, and potentially dangerous too. A surprising number of wells had been dug in this part of the forest, and Izzy had discovered at least three that morning alone.

Then she screamed as a hoof wrapped around hers. She jumped back, seeing a pale violet hoof grabbing her ankle.

“THE UNDEAD!”

“Not yet I’m not.” Izzy’s face poked out from a pile of dirt and leaves, joining the hooves that were likewise attached to the same pony as the face. “I’m right here. Figured it was obvious.”

“Why would it be—what are you doing down there?”

“Lurking.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I mean, we’re outside, aren’t we? Haven’t you ever slept outside? It’s super comfy. Also, look! Pinecones!” She held up several.

Misty hesitantly approached, powering down the turn-undead spell she had begun to charge. “Is this...a unicorn thing?”

“Essentially, yes. I mean, sleeping on the ground is one thing, but in it? Like a warm and toasty potato? The o'l dirt-nap. Yisssss...bury me upside down, Sunny...” She retreated back into the loam—and then out the other side, grasping a tree as she took advantage of her naturally adhesive pony hooves to rapidly ascend the trunk in a quick spiral before reaching a branch high above the camp. “Unicorns are naturally arboreal. It helps us avoid predators and such.”

Hitch sat up. “P...predators?”

“Like willimunchers, or squallworts, deathfog, or raccoons...” She shivered. “With their little hands that they use to path your face and stroke your mane...without you even knowing!”

Hitch squeaked in fear.

Zipp groaned. “Aren’t you the guy who talks to animals? Wouldn't getting patted in the face kind of be your thing?”

Hitch blinked, slowly moving out of the fetal position he found himself in. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll just make them...ask before stroking me in the night?”

“This tree is incrediblysticky,” noted Izzy. “Hey, if I get preserved in amber, one of you make sure I end up in a necklace or something. Or have them clone me and make a park or something. Of me. Trust me, we totally won't try to escape.”

Sunny moved toward the fire, sitting down on one of the logs. Zipp and Hitch chose a nearby one, and Pipp pulled up her chair. Izzy remained on the treebranch above, either out of evolutionary instinct or due to adhesion. Misty remained slightly behind the logs, standing, staring into the fire without blinking.

“I’ve never been camping before,” said Misty. “Except when Opaline would lock me outside the castle. In the rain. Or the hail, she loved to lock me out during hail. For punishment. But this is a lot different. It’s...”

“Fun?” suggested Sunny.

“Sure.”

“Well,” continued Sunny, producing a bag of food. “First, I’ve brought a large quantity of healthy vegetables. Also fruits, and cases where the two are not really discern able...”

“And we’ll need to pack that in a bag and hoist it into a tree so the bears don’t steal it,” said Hitch. He gasped. “Oh wait, bears...”

“I’ve got a stick ready and I’ve practiced drawing circles,” said Izzy. “And I didn’t even bring a clarinet...”

“And?” asked Zipp.

“And I think my bodily tissues have gained enough internal glitter to help me repel predation?”

“No. I mean...vegetables are fine, but...”

Sunny lifted a bag. “And of course the marshmallows.”

“Huh,” said Hitch, taking the bag and reading the side. “ ‘Real marsh flavor in every mallow’. Tasty?”

“I also have something,” said Zipp. “Hold on.” She flew back to the Mare Stream.

Sunny turned to look up at Misty. “It’ll be fun,” she said. “You can share my tent. I already set it up. Or you can do the unicorn thing. Up in a tree, like Izzy.”

“You’ll want to find an extra sticky one,” said Izzy, now clinging to the branch by her back alone, her hooves kicking in the air. She chuckled. “Because you do not want to fall out while you’re sleeping. Especially once the deathfog gets here.”

“I...don’t know,” said Misty. “I’ve lived in a castle my whole life. So this is all...new.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling,” said Pipp, striking another pose. She frowned. “Dang it...the lighting gets all weird at night.”

“Turn up the exposure,” said Zipp, passing by holding a wooden crate.

“Um, sure, if I want to be blurry. I need sharp lines! Contrast! Quality! Aesthetic!"

Zipp rolled her eyes and set down the crate. She pulled the top off, and removed a bottle filled with yellow liquid.

Hitch’s eyes grew wide. “Is that...”

“...what I think it is?” asked Izzy.

Zipp nodded. “Cider.”

“Oh thank pony,” sighed Izzy. “Trust me, you do not want to know what I thought it was.”

“But—but—we can’t!” protested Hitch.

Zipp raised a pink eyebrow. “Seriously? Don’t you have a mortgage and a job? It’s just cider.”

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want to,” said Sunny.

“But the sugar...”

Sunny gave him a stick and a bag of marshmallows. “You’re not going to get lamenitis if you have sweets in moderation.”

“But I’m a sheriff, I need to set an example for the community!”

“You’re off duty. And Sparky’s spending the weekend with Grandma Figgy. So you can take a break.” Sunny held up a grapetato—and also a grapefruittato, which was substantially larger and much less popular for despite its size. “You can also just have the hybrid-veggies.”

“I actually have some blenders,” said Pipp, sitting up. “You can even smoothie them if you want.”

“I do like smooth food...”

“I like it chunky...” whispered Izzy, directly into Sunny’s ear. “Chunky...chunky...chunky...”

Misty sighed. "That's exactly what Opaline used to whisper to me when I was sleeping..."

Pipp looked up at the sky, which had darkened thoroughly, and Sunny noticed a smile crossing her face.

“Pipp?”

“I may not be the most outdoorsy filly,” she said.

“You can say that again,” added Zipp.

“But there is one thing I was super looking forward to.”

“Really?” Sunny’s ears pricked at the idea of one of her friends having extra fun. “What is it, Pipp?”

Pipp’s smile grew until it became nearly threatening. Her voice lowered, and a chill breeze blew through the fire, sending up a plume of embers.

“Around a campfire? Roasty marshmallows all on our sticks? Nighttime in the dark, spoooooky woods? I think it’s time for—” She flicked a flashlight on under her chin and leaned forward. “SPOOKY STORIES!”

Hitch let out a squeak.

“Pony yeah!” swore Zipp, raising her bottle of cider. “Finally, something we can agree on! Isn’t that right, Hitch?” she elbowed him lightly. He recoiled.

“I don’t know,” said Sunny. “Hitch, you don’t look so good.”

Zipp groaned. “He’s literally the entire law enforcement institution of your town. He’s probably seen stuff none of us can even imagine. He’s probably the bravest stallion we could find if we looked.”

“I have seen some...terrible things,” said Hitch. “Like when somepony didn’t sort the green glass from the clear glass in their recyclables...” He shuddered. “The horror...” He steeled himself. “It’s okay, Sunny. I can do it this time.”

Sunny nodded, slowly. “But...just in case. Maybe we can tell stories that aren’t too scary?”

“I know exactly the one,” giggled Pipp, with a distinct ominous tone. She leaned forward toward them. “Did you know that there used to be a summer camp built here? Right in this campsite. Long ago...before...the incident.”

“Really?” said Izzy. “What happened?”

Pipp’s smile grew.

“...and then she woke up, and...”

“And...AND?!”

“And...everything was fine.” Pipp leaned back. “She was in her bed. Just lying there.”

Hitch nearly seemed to deflate as the tension left his body. “Thank pony...I love the endings where it’s all a dream. It’s so satisfying.”

“But then she tried to sit up...and she couldn’t.”

Hitch’s entire body retracted. “Wh...why couldn’t she sit up? WHY COULDN’T SHE SIT UP?!”

“Because...the Bonestealer had stolen ALL HER BONES!”

Hitch let out a girlish scream and hid behind Zipp, quivering.

“Oh,” said Izzy. “What did he do with all the bones, though?”

Pipp blinked, confused. “Um...what?”

“The bones. I mean, I’m really confused...what did he want them for? Ooh, OOH! Was he going to make wind-chimes? Or flutes? Or carve intricate symbols onto them and make a decorative guided friend? Or glue them all together into a SUPER BONE STATUE BEAST? Because that’s what I’d do. One of those things. If I’d stolen a pony’s skeleton.” She turned slowly toward Hitch, giggling slightly. “Which I totally didn’t. And totally wouldn’t. Even if it would make an awesome wind-chime...”

“Izzy!” snapped Sunny, who was clinging to her backpack. “Stop!”

“Stop collecting parts for my wind-chime or...”

Sunny let out a slight squeak.

“Oh. Wow.” Pipp floated forward and sat on a log. “Sorry. I mean, it’s a spooky story, but it isn’t supposed to be that spooky.”

“I liked it,” said Zipp. She looked to Misty, who was waiting patiently just beyond the light of the fire. “What about you?”

“Very nostalgic, I guess,” said Misty, who showed no signs of fear. “Opaline used to tell a story like that to me when I was a filly. Except instead of one Bonestealer, it was that all ponies are going to try to steal my bones. And then use the rest of me as a rug.” She sighed. “Ah, to be a foal again...”

“Well you do have nice scapulas,” said Izzy, rubbing her hoof on Misty’s back. “Scapulae? Scapulaes? Plenty of surface area for rhinestones...”

“Whoo,” said Hitch, standing up suddenly. “I ate...so many marshmallows. I need to...um...great story, Pipp, I need...some air.”

He immediately trotted off. Zipp stood up.

“Hey, wait! We’re outside! There’s nothing but air!”

“And also dirt,” said Pipp, rubbing her hoof across the log she was sitting on and looking down at it in disgust. “I’m not exactly a fan. It’s very...dirty.”

Hitch ran into the treeline, pausing and leaning against an oak to catch his breath. It had certainly grown dark, but there was still some amount of light from the vast sea of stars overhead—and the thin crescent of the moon that had snuck high into the sky during Pipp’s extremely stressful story.

“Oof,” he said. “I’m glad Sparky didn’t come, he’s be positively traumatized...” He took several deep breaths. “But not me. I’m a sheriff, after all. Afraid of nothing.” He stood tall, puffing out his chest. “I’ve taken on mismatched recyclables, noise complaints, misfiled boating license paperwork—there’s nothing I can’t handle! And bonestealing is a misdemeanor crime—if that Bonestealer comes at me, I’ll write him such a ticket!”

“Hey.”

Hitch let out a high-pitched scream. “PLEASE NO PLEASE DON’T BONE ME!”

Zipp descended to the ground, immediately snickering. “I’m not Izzy.”

“Zipp—don’t laugh, boning is a very serious offense—”

Zipp snickered louder.

“What? Because I got scared at Pipp’s story and I thought you were coming to bone...” He paused, then let out a groan. “Zipp, come on...”

“Who knew you were afraid of being boned so bad?”

“As in my bones getting stole,” snapped Hitch. “Why are you out here, Zipp?”

“Um, because you walked out into the deep dark woods all alone? That’s not exactly safe.”

Hitch opened his mouth to protest—but found he could not. She had defeated him at his own game.

“I...know that, but...”

“You said ‘butt’...”

“Zipp. I...” He looked back and forth, and then leaned close to her. “I came out here because I need to...you know...see a mare about a horse.”

Zipp recoiled in horror. “Um...I think that euphemism means something very different in Zephyr Heights.”

“What does it mean—no, you know what, I don’t want to know.”

“You definitely don’t.”

“I need to take a leak.”

Zipp stared at him. “Yeah. I figured. So do I.”

“But...but...”

“Come on, dude, I’ve seen a pony take a leak before. And you can’t just wander out into the woods alone.”

“But I...”

“What?”

Hitch lowered his head, ashamed. “I can’t go if you’re watching.”

“Why in pony’s name would I...eew!” She jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“I’m not going to hold your dang hoof, idiot! I just don’t want you to get carried off by a squaldoodle or a walmugus or mushroom gnome or whatever Izzy thinks is out here.”

Hitch sighed. “Dang it...so awkward...”

He continued out into the darkness, though, knowing that Zipp was right. The forest was, after all, a quite dangerous place.

Author's Note

I had been hesitant to post this story, for several reasons. I consider it, overall, to be of lower-than-average quality. It almost physically hurt to write. I will explain why in little bits down here.

Firstly, these characters are...challenging. They do not naturally have as much "bite" as the Gen-4 characters where you can easily build darker aspects or idiosyncrasies into their personalities. So I had to warp them a little bit to make them "funny" (or, to fill in their personalities a little more).

Hopefully I have not warped them too much to the point of being totally out-of-character, but I found I needed them to be more "Unwhole-Hole" style for the story to actually gain any traction.