Revolution

The owl hoots, and the toad croaks. These are the sounds that wake me up. It seems the full belly and the faint early summer warmth lulled me to sleep. Csile lies next to me. I must have woken up too early, but it doesn’t matter. We have to set out—my friends might have been there for almost a week by now. If they don't get help soon, things could turn serious.

I grab a small stick with my mouth as best as I can. I head into the cave and start scratching out a message:
"I’m going after my friends. Head north and disguise yourself as a pony. Bring help, and I’ll help you in return."

Carefully, I crawl back out, making sure not to crush anything underfoot.

I nudge Csile with my nose. I don’t know why; it just feels natural. Once, twice, then again. I see her eyes open, snapping wide as if she hadn’t been sleeping at all.

“What is it, Leppé?”

“Come on,” I say. “My father asked me to teach you. You need to learn how to catch prey for yourself—his leg is injured, and he can’t run as he should.”

Csile looks at me with sadness, but then she gets up and starts to follow.

“Did your mother teach you to hunt?” I ask, with the few words I know.

She must have learned something; I wouldn’t have noticed her if I hadn’t caught her scent.

“Not much,” she replies. “She spent more time with my siblings. I was never fast enough or could jump high enough. Back at my old home, I used to hunt toads, and I think I got pretty good at it, but she always sent me away. She said I scared off the prey.”

Listening to her story, I feel a pang of sadness. It makes me want to cry. “Alright,” I say. “Take me there. By the time we’re done, you’ll know how to hunt better than any fox—except me, of course!”

“Why, are you that bad at it?”

Okay, so even foxes have a sense of humor. They’re not so different from us after all.

“You! Lead the way, or I’ll bite you!” I bare my teeth a little and growl. That startles her, and she starts moving, leading me to the right place.

The night is black, filled with eerie sounds. I don't feel or understand what just happened. Something grabbed me from the side, and it hurt—a lot.

I try to stand, but I’m overwhelmed by three sensations: my leg throbs, my stomach aches, and it feels like someone fed me a pincushion. Hunger gnaws at me, and all I can think about is meat—but why?

I look down at myself, and it hits me—the spell. But this place? It’s unfamiliar.

There’s a small wooden house, with many stone steps leading up to it. A little balcony juts out the front, and beside the house is a fenced-off yard—likely a play area. I’m on the left side of the house, near the terrace steps. A faint light flickers inside, probably a candle.

I approach slowly, the light neither calming nor alarming me. As I reach the window near the balcony, I see a strange creature inside. I don’t know what it is, but somehow, I know its name: Smoothskin.

It’s a female—that much I can tell, though I don’t know how. Fear runs down my spine, urging me to flee. But the part of me that’s still a pony notices her sorrow. She’s crying. Whoever or whatever she is, she’s sad.

As I try to climb higher for a better look, I slip, pulling down the outer window ledge, which knocks over a pole I hadn’t noticed.

I glance up and see a massive axe teetering, starting to fall—not just toward me, but onto me!

The next moment, I feel a searing pain as blood gushes from my leg. My fur is redder than it’s ever been. I let out a loud whimper, trying to do something, anything—but before I can, the door bursts open.

The woman steps out, and I get a better look at her. Her skin isn’t so smooth after all; her face is wrinkled like Granny Smit’s, and her hair is streaked with white.

“Oh, you poor thing!”

She—let’s just stick with that for now—removes the axe from my leg and lifts me before I can resist. She carries me inside, to a small, cramped house packed with all sorts of furniture. She places me on what seems to be an old cage and lifts my injured leg, tying it to the bars.

“What a nasty wound. It hurts, doesn’t it, little one?”

I nod silently. “Yes.”

She brings a small bottle, cotton, some adhesive-like substance, and white gauze. Between her and a nearby table covered in monitors, I start to wonder: who is she, and why is she so kind to me? I’m a fox—the worst nightmare of any livestock owner.

Hello? The den is dark, and only the moonlight shines through. It seems I fell asleep—not surprising, carrying that duck was hard work. I get up, stretch, and switch back to my shapeshifter form. As I turn around, I notice something. A small message is carved into the ground:

"Go after your friends, head north, and disguise yourself as a pony. Bring help, and I’ll help you in return."

This startled me, but then I realized Bender and Csile were gone too. Great, just great. This is a comedy—a ridiculous comedy. The two youngsters have disappeared, and I’m left with the sole clue to head north. Fine, let’s go north.

Okay, but where’s north?

“Csile! Surely you know where…” Then I spot the stream, and my doubts vanish. Plenty of tasty snacks: Tás, Unka, even a few Gibe. Well done, Csile, you know what you’re doing.

“Now try catching Unka. Remember what I said: see with your nose, not your eyes.” Csile eagerly rushes off to catch the little frogs. “If there’s trouble, bark!”

Csile dashes away, and within minutes, I turn my focus to my task. I carefully walk along the stream, sniffing the air, hoping to find my friends. Then I hear a loud scream. Instinctively, I head toward the sound—a thin, high-pitched cry, and I think I know whose it is.

As I get closer, my heart sinks, and fear grips me when I see the source. It’s Csile. Disappointed because I thought it was Sweetie Belle, but terrified because poor Csile is being chased by a manticore.

What should I do? Without thinking, my legs start moving, and I hurl myself at the manticore. I claw at its nose and bite its scorpion tail. Realizing what I’m doing, I can’t stop. This is pure protective instinct—somehow, I’ve grown attached to Csile, and I’m defending him instinctively.

The manticore shakes me off, and I suddenly understand just how powerful adrenaline can be. But then it fades, and sharp pain floods every part of my body from its scratches and bites. My legs give out, leaving me immobile. My eyes flutter, and I see the manticore stepping toward me. Finally, I close my eyes, perhaps forever...

Elementary school—I used to love going there before my friends betrayed me and left me behind. Since then, my life has been hell. Everyone keeps asking me how I’m coping with my friends’ deaths, even though I never once said they were dead. Ever since I left that house, it’s been hard to resist the temptation to obliterate them.

I often feel the urge to do something I know is wrong. Diamond Tiara is once again sharing her creepy tale about why my friends disappeared. I’m so sick of her.

Then an idea sparks in my mind. Yes, I’ll do it this afternoon.

The bell rings, summoning us to class. Miss Cheerilee practically bounces with joy.

“Good morning, little ponies!”

“Good morning, Miss Cheerilee!” the class replies in unison, while I sit silently at the back.

“Soon, a delegate from the princesses will visit us again, scouting for participants and flag bearers for the Crystal Games. So, everyone find a partner and come up with a performance to present.”

She then pulls out a large hat, filled with the cutie marks or names of those who haven’t earned theirs yet. She announces with unnerving cheer:

“I will assign the pairs! The first will be Daynight Cycle and Diamond Tiara.”

One by one, she draws names. Meanwhile, something grows within me—not just anger as an emotion but as a color. The color of hatred, the color of fury: deep red. Like the blazing sun, the perfect crimson of a ripe apple, the deep scarlet of a cherry.

I make up my mind. Now I understand why I feel this way and what I’m up against. These pampered little princesses living off everyone else’s suffering...

Why does Silver Spoon get that handsome colt I’ve been eyeing for so long? I think to myself as my sulking is interrupted by Cycle. The way he does it, though, is intriguing.

“Miss Cheerilee, you don’t honestly think we’ll do this, do you?! Neither I nor anyone else will complete these stupid tasks the princesses made up just for fun.”

Everyone starts murmuring, and deep down, even I feel it—I don’t know why, where, or how—but I sense that he’s completely right.

“Why wouldn’t you, little ponies? Representing Ponyville is a great honor and a responsibility,” Miss Cheerilee replies.

Cycle grows even angrier.

“Really? Or is it just a joke for the privileged to laugh at the common workers? It’s always the same rhetoric, isn’t it? Aren’t you tired of it yet?”

The class almost unanimously rallies behind him, and I can’t even understand how. Then the feeling seizes me, urging me to speak up too...

The bell disrupts the others, and I seize the chance to storm out. As I get further from Cycle, the feeling and resentment fade away, vanishing as if snapped away. My mind is clear again… mostly.

I look back and see Cycle and the class walking out into the street, Miss Cheerilee among them. Suddenly, I feel a strong urge to follow them, but my mind hasn’t yet clouded over…

I gallop as fast as I can in the opposite direction, and after about half a kilometer, the compulsion finally subsides. What in the world is going on here? Twilight Sparkle must know about this! It has to be the work of some villain—like that evil unicorn… The others must have fallen under a spell. I need to tell someone immediately!

After galloping all night, I finally escape the cursed forest. Ahead lies a small village. I hope this is where Bender wanted me to go. The village seems to be holding some sort of celebration. A large crowd gathers, making it easy to blend in. That’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Quickly, I transform into the shape of a random earth pony with gray fur and a sandy blonde mane.

I head into the town, and suddenly, a lone filly catches my eye.

“Stop!” she shouts, jumping in front of me. I slam all four hooves into the ground and barely manage to stop.

She’s a filthy little pink-coated thing with a white-and-purple mane, and her cutie mark—a tiara—matches the one she wears on her head.

“Leave me alone, little filly. Lives are at stake!” I try to move on, but she clings to my left hoof, holding me back. I glare at her angrily, but she doesn’t budge.

“That’s true, but your life will end too if you go into the crowd. There’s a witch in the area; she’s bewitched everyone. You have to help—we need to tell Twilight Sparkle!”

This surprises me. A bewitched crowd? A witch? And who is this princess? Celestia, Luna, Cadence… Who is this fourth one? Then another question bursts out of me.

“How do you know all this? Why aren’t you in the crowd too?”

“Tiara. My name is Ti…” The little filly finally releases me and tries to speak, but her voice falters. Slowly, tears well up in her eyes and begin to fall like the first drops of rain in a storm. And then the storm breaks.

I think about what to do since I’ve never been trained for this sort of thing...

After a few minutes, the problem resolves itself. The little filly hugs me, and I don’t know what to make of it. But the feeling is warm and comforting. I guess I should return the gesture. Slowly, I wrap both hooves around her, lift her up, and hold her close.

An emotion wells up inside me like nothing I’ve felt before. It’s as if I’m giving love, not in a bad way, but then it returns to me multiplied, and I feel a little less hungry. Giving love gives more back? That’s fascinating.

Still, my thoughts are drawn to the little filly in my embrace.

“It’s okay, shhh… It’s okay. Tell me everything you know, and we’ll figure something out…”

After my outburst at school, I finally calmed down and started heading home. I wondered how long this would last. The houses were unusually empty and quiet.

When I got home, no one was there.

“Dad! Dad!” I called, not even knowing why. The feeling I had at school—the one about the rich rulers—came rushing back.

I immediately ran out of the house and then saw… Cycle. He’d gathered a massive crowd, waving red flags and chanting, “Down with vanity!” I wanted to go over, but for some reason, it felt logical.

However, I still had some sense left. I turned away immediately and started running. Soon, I had to force myself to keep moving.

Eventually, I managed to get away, but it felt strange. Afterward, I felt dizzy, and my head throbbed. I went to get some water from a nearby lake, but even there, that feeling seemed to follow me, growing more distant but never quite gone.

I spent half the day fighting the temptation, and in the end, I found myself on the road leading to the cursed castle.

I collapsed, nearly breaking down in tears—Silver Spoon, my dad, and everyone else—this obsession… Whatever it is, I have to find Twilight Sparkle and…

A stallion approaches from the Everfree Forest. He can’t be bewitched yet!

I stopped you, and this is where the story ends. Tiara, this is truly terrifying—if it’s true, something must be done. The way she told it doesn’t sound like a joke.

“Will you tell me your name?”

That surprised me. What does that have to do with anything? But fine.

“My name is Sawtooth,” I replied.

She looked astonished at my name, then slowly stepped back twice.

“Well, I’m very grateful that you’re here.”

Then she froze, as if something had just occurred to her. She looked at me with a terrified expression.

“Why did you come here, and what were you doing in the Everfree Forest?”

What should I say now? I think the truth is my best option.

“A friend of mine, Bender, sent me. His friends recently got into trouble in the Everfree, and he sent me for help.”

“What? Bender is alive?”

At this news, she seemed completely stunned, staring blankly into the distance. Then...

“This changes everything. They must have wanted to disappear but ended up in trouble. Immediately—immediately—”

Her voice faltered, her eyelids drooped, and she collapsed.

When I finally regained consciousness, the first thing I felt was the cold. The second was a warm, wet sensation. Then I realized this sensation was moving over me—up and down, up and down—in a steady rhythm so precise it could be used to time piano notes.

I felt almost nothing else. Slowly, instinctively, my eyes opened.

A cool night breeze and the scent of blood surrounded me. Then I saw the source of the warmth: Chile!

More precisely, Chile, licking my wounds.

And then another feeling took hold of me: I was freezing—absolutely freezing. I looked at myself. My coat, once red, had turned dark crimson from all the blood.

I tried to speak, but my vocal cords twisted in a spasm of pain, and no sound escaped my throat. Even blinking made my eyes scream in pain, as if moving them hurt more than death itself.

The only comfort I found was that Chile had emerged without a scratch. My vision began to redden, and I noticed a small shadow in the distance. As it drew closer, it revealed a palette of orange and reddish hues. Judging by its appearance, it was a quadruped…

My eyes closed, and only a few thoughts lingered in my mind. I thought back to my old life—and the one before that. But even these memories faded, leaving only pain, cold, and darkness.

Eventually, I wasn’t sure if anything else existed. Even the tongue that had given me warmth now only brought painful touches. Finally, there was nothing left—just the great void.

The feeling of nothingness. The sight of nothingness. The temperature of nothingness...

To be continued.