The Village

“More ponies have been falling ill with the mysterious sickness marked by fever, red spots, and coughing up bubbles. I have chosen to name this new disease 'Swamp Fever'. So far, it does not seem overly dire, though it appears to be highly catching. Its resistance to usual treatments hints at a magical nature, as does its long life, for not a single pony who has caught it has healed. This nature is suggested yet more strongly by two new signs that have also arisen: bolts of lightning that come out with sneezes, and deep brown rashes that almost look like tree bark. Leif has been working himself to exhaustion, and beyond his duties of guarding the village and working with me to find a cure, he has taken it on himself to bring relief and comfort to the villagers and to me. But now he has also taken the sickness, and I fear it may put an end to his errands of kindness. It is a miracle I do not seem to have it yet. Though my weariness and sickness have grown worse, I still think it to be mere stress. Yet I must press on with all my strength to find a worthy cure.”

from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, week three of the founding of The Forever Free Village.

The sight before her was one she’d seen before, and one she’d never forget: the eyeball, the very one that looked back at her the night prior. It was no longer embedded in the face of a fully wooden pony, but of an obviously living host.

The honey! The honey she accidentally dropped on the roots. It had worked!

“Giiiiii.. iinn... zher”, the hoarse voice continued, accompanied by the sound of wood scraping against dirt. And that’s when Fluttershy’s brain registered the rest of the image before her; the form of the stallion was twisted and contorted. His left hind leg was still fully lignified, dirt still clinging to the roots that connected unnaturally to the tibia, flesh twisted around the plant, sinews connected muscle to the wood directly, while the skin tore, unable to contain the rough bark. Blood-covered branches sprouted through the pelt all over his body, mostly around joints. But worst of all was the face, only one good eye, with a branch sprouting directly from the socket of the other, bits of fractured skull and what looked like brain matter poking through the skin around its origin.

It breathed in ragged breaths, and occasional coughs summoned a splatter of flesh, plant matter, and bloody bubbles. “Gin...” the creature painfully gurgled out the word, “...zhfer”. It shambled forward in a maneuver that was clearly meant to be a lunge. Fluttershy didn’t have time to evade, frozen by the horrific sight before her. The creature’s body collided with the pegasus, bringing her down with its weight on top of her. “HWÆR IS GINȜIFER?” the creature bellowed, the sheer force of the words tearing its throat and splattering Fluttershy’s face with bits of gore and blood.

“I’m sorry, I don't know”, Fluttershy whimpered, raising her front hooves to defend her face from the monster’s hooves as they came down on her in a barrage of strikes. Fluttershy tried to buck the creature off her, but even a buck from a pony with average strength might not be enough to contend with the creature currently pummeling her, and it sure as Tartarus was not enough coming from Fluttershy.

“Please... stop”, she sobbed desperately as the creature relentlessly beat down on her front hooves. "Ic wille... þē... helpan”, she managed to stammer in a last ditch effort to resolve this peacefully.

The Old Ponish must’ve gotten its attention, because it paused for a moment. But a moment later, shrieking again, “HWÆR IS MĪN WĪF?” it doubled down on its assault. A pained wail escaped Fluttershy as she felt a half-wood hoof come down hard on her right wing, followed by a painful crack. Her response was one almost reflexive. She was going to die if she didn’t act.

And act she did, using her good wing to smash the lantern across the face of the shambling mound of wood.

The creature let out a distorted wail of agony as the glass shattered against its face, burning oil quickly igniting the creature. Fluttershy was quickly back to her hooves, breathing heavily as she watched the wounded creature thrash around the little shop, the fire spreading over its body, thoroughly scorching the plant portion, and searing the pony bits, leaving only charred flesh.

Eventually the creature fell limp, breathing out one last death rattle through its ruined vocal cords. Fluttershy took a moment to catch her breath, flexing her injured wing, and wincing as she felt a sharp pain shoot through it. There’d be no flying for a while without causing further damage.

Her attention then turned to the creature, its form was still, it was dead, he was dead, now for good. Fluttershy felt tears start to streak down her face, a gnawing pit of sorrow in her gut at what she had done. “I’m sorry”, she stammered between soft sobs, “I didn’t know this would happen”. She extended a hoof to cradle the charred remains to the earth pony’s face. As the Element of Kindness, she had empathy for all creatures, even ones she did not know. So Fluttershy sat and quietly mourned.

“Oh gods, please, whichever gods are listening, I beg for your help. I woke to a scream this morn, it was around sunrise, it came from the neighbor’s house, words do not do the scene justice. The mare was weeping, holding tightly to her stallion's body. A tree had seemed to sprout like a parasitic worm from his belly, all the while roots and leaves sprouted from her skin. I will never forget those eyes, glazed over yet still slightly moving as the rest of the still whole body twitched, the plant spreading through it and turning the rest into wood for the soon-to-be carcass. It is now midday, Monday, and many others have already begun to turn. I have yet to catch the disease, but I have found the causes behind my other bodily ills. I—”

from Ginger Faelyn’s Apothecary log, half the page was torn and unreadable.

Fluttershy wasn’t sure how long she stayed looming over the ruined corpse, but eventually she dried her eyes, and picked up the shattered lantern. Still mostly intact, though the glass was ruined. She quickly refilled it with oil. But as she re-lit the wick, she noticed something on her hoof, an orange spot. Further examination of her body revealed more spots, and then she coughed. Bubbles, she hadn’t been in contact with the flower of the tree, she was sure of it. The only logical conclusion was simple: the creature she had just tangled with, the suffering, grotesque mass of mangled pony and twisting wood, had been contagious.

As Fluttershy stood, her mind turned to the others she had attempted to cure. What had she done? She stepped back out into the ruined village, and her fears were confirmed. Shambling half-pony mounds filled the small path through the village. Shredded hide and meat still trying to function despite the parasitic plant that was growing from within.

The beasts turned and looked in her direction, the small flame of her lantern acting like a beacon for their attention as it cut through the darkness of night. This was her fault. Fluttershy cursed herself for being so careless. All she had to do was not be so hasty. All she had to do was ask her friends for help. Twilight would have known what to do. She would have devised a plan to study these diseased ponies. She would have found a cure that actually worked as intended.

But now wasn’t the time for self-reproach. Fluttershy pulled herself from her thoughts, and looked to the heart of the village. The colossal, dead oak stood past the small horde of half tree mutants that were closing in on her. A susurrus of unintelligible sounds warbled from their ruined throats. The creatures before her were no longer ponies. They were broken, suffering husks of what they once were. They were like rabid animals. Sometimes kindness took courage, and sometimes it wasn’t pretty. The meek little injured pegasus summoned her last reserve of courage: holding her lantern high, she faced the small horde. She didn’t like it, but she knew what she had to do.