Chapters March 17, Year 1001 of the Eclipse, 11:57 AM
The city of Canterlot, jutting out from the mountainside, is nearly invisible, surrounded by a sea of creatures pressing against its weakening purple shield. The queen's orders were clear: eliminate all resistance and capture anyone possible.
I never liked this plan; infiltrating would be simpler, and perhaps we could find alternatives. But the shield has fallen. My comrades attack without hesitation. I hesitate for a moment before flying in, but then I see six ponies fighting side by side against our overwhelming numbers. I also notice another changeling who, like me, struggles to feed on love.
The ponies are eventually captured, but I still can't move as I watch almost all resistance crushed. Only then do I join a smaller group cornering a few guards.
"Surrender!" one of us demands, spitting slime at the guards. They reluctantly succumb to the sticky trap as the others eagerly begin to feed. Sweet, deceitful love tastes bitter to me. I drain a little from them, but it feels wrong. The queen emerges from a palace window, declaring victory. It doesn't feel like a victory to me, but my opinion doesn't matter.
The ponies try to resist, but without much success. A huge explosion shakes us. Along with my comrades, I fly out, and suddenly the world goes dark.
I open my eyes and find myself deep in a forest. I need to get back... Pain shoots through my wing. I glance at it—nearly torn off. It will take months before I can fly again.
Until then, it looks like I'll be stuck here. The forest is dark, and hunger gnaws at me, but there's no love in the air, except for a faint trace coming from the ground—probably from some small animals. Then I witness the worst scene I've ever seen, and I've seen plenty. Another changeling is draining a helpless fox dry, which is trying to protect its pups with its last breath. Rage and sorrow fill me as the poor creature lets out its final gasp. My hooves launch forward.
The other changeling snaps out of its feeding trance as I shove it aside and pounce on it. "What are you doing?" it asks, stunned, but anger consumes me, and I respond without thinking.
"You'll pay for this!" I don’t even know what I’m doing, and before I realize it, I’m wringing a lifeless body to the extreme. Horrified, I step back, clutching my mouth. "What have I done? What have I done? Oh, what have I done?!" A tear slides from my chitin, and suddenly the love I've absorbed turns bitter in my stomach. Did I just kill? Did I take the life of one of my own kind?
I spend a long time in shock there, but then a faint whimper catches my attention. The fox pups are there, lying beside their mother—two near her and four scattered around the den. My heart goes out to them. I change into a different fox and catch a rabbit. I leave it for them, but the little ones also need to be taught. I’m not very good at that, so I resort to an alternative.
I set out and soon encounter another fox. I transform into a rabbit and let it chase me. When we near the pups, I transform into a fly and let the fox approach the two whimpering little ones. It felt like the right thing to do, and I ran off in my original form.
As I step out of the TARDIS, I find myself in a familiar place at a familiar time. The Everfree Forest—this was the day that defined my future, and now it was time to set the second significant event in motion, even before the first one. I don’t know why it’s so important, but there’s no arguing with the Doctor.
A changeling rushes past, and the joyful sounds of two little foxes can be heard in the distance. It's like seeing Vuk... I transform into a white goose and soar into the air. If I didn’t know what was about to happen, I wouldn’t be this brave. I land in front of the changeling and revert to my true form.
The changeling stops abruptly, surprised, and perhaps ready to attack, but I know what I have to say. "Calm down! I’m not an enemy."
"And why should I trust you?" Understandably, it's wary of me. It was forced to fight against us not too long ago.
"I know you don’t want to return to the hive. I also know what you did."
"How... and who are you?" I lift my head and speak with pride, sharing the second most important words of my life.
"May the protective veil of the night embrace you, brother." It raises an eyebrow—if it had one. "I come from the Children of the Night, and I’m here to meet you, right here, right now. I know you don’t want to go back, do you?" Its eyes look downward, or at least as much as they can, and I can feel its anxiety.
"How could I return, after taking the life of one of my own kind? I would be executed for such a crime. They’ll turn the whole world upside down to find me, and I’ll have to hide." Yes, I’ve found the right one; it’s undoubtedly him.
"Listen, I can’t stay long, but if, in half to three-quarters of a year, you find a little fox hunting alone, reveal yourself to it. This is very important."
It looks at me, puzzled, then slowly asks, "Who is it, and why does it matter to me?" This is harder than I thought. I quickly have to come up with an answer.
"He... He is one of four beings who can free changelings from their eternal hunger. But he’s unaware of this ability, and you need to guide him, Sawtooth." The name startles him.
"How do you know my name?" I should bang my head against the wall, but my watch beeps, reminding me that I have only one minute left. The truth is my only escape.
"You'll tell me after I defeat you, but that’s still a way off. Now, I must go. Goodbye!" I quickly transform into a small tank and make my escape...
The TARDIS barely waited for me. The Doctor, with his usual quirky seriousness, asks, "So, did you manage?"
"Hopefully. But it was much harder than I thought. Now, to the cave and timberwolves, if you please." I stare into space, wishing I had told him where the plane was.
Sawtooth spent weeks pondering whether to believe the mysterious stranger or not, but life went on. He thought there must be some truth to it, yet only time would reveal if the prophecy was real.
Six months passed, the first leaves began to turn yellow, and one fine day...
The world is vast when you’re alone. I can sense the rabbit getting closer, but my eyes remain closed; it heightens my other senses. The rabbit’s scent grows stronger, and I can tell it’s right in front of me. My eyes open, and there, in the darkness of the forest, is the rabbit itself. I leap, and in a second, it’s down.
Back in the hive, I often had to eat meat, but I never enjoyed it. Now, though, in my fox form, it’s somehow tastier. The bones are sometimes tricky to handle, but it doesn't bother me; I’m full and can continue my search. Life in the Everfree Forest is not easy, but after three days, it felt good to eat something other than grass and branches, even if it means staying in this fox shape. Ideally, I’d feed on love to sustain myself, but in these woods, most creatures aren’t exactly... affectionate.
The rabbit is nearly gone, only a few tough bones remain. A green flash, and I’m back to my original form, seeing my black, hole-riddled chitin. I suppose I’ll need to find a friend, or at least a companion to feed from soon. My ears—if I had any—twitch as I hear a faint noise. It’s a fox, prowling silently.
This forest... how I hate it. Complaining won’t get me food, but at least it gives me a bit of adrenaline. I’ve learned that using this magic to shapeshift is a real strain on the user; not immediately, but a few hours after shifting, the fatigue sets in. I realized this on the first day when everything went black at the end of the day, and the same thing happened the next day. Since then, I’ve stayed in fox form; a young fox has a keen nose and can hunt for more than just grass. I don’t know how far they’ve ventured into the forest, but I’m far from Ponyville now.
A familiar sound echoes around me, my stomach growling. I glance around; night has already fallen, and my eyes shine in the dark. There are so many scents—leftover rabbit, a slithering... lizard? I crouch low, moving toward the scent with my eyes closed. The wind carries a peculiar, faintly fox-like scent, but not entirely.
Suddenly, something grabs my fur from behind, lifting me off the ground. I open my eyes to find a fox—although its scent is strange, almost unnatural. She’s a beautiful vixen, possibly a mother. My magic only allows limited communication, so I decide not to shift back. I have more searching to do, but I’d rather not scare her, especially if I don’t have to.
She brings me to a small den, which turns out to be empty. She glances at me curiously. I want to speak, but the magic limits me; I can only ask things a fox might understand. Hungry... whose child are you, here all alone? Yes, that should do.
"Whose child... are you, daughter or son?" The question piques her interest. She pauses, as if to consider me, and then suddenly bursts into green flames, transforming into a black, insect-like pony. I don’t feel fear, just shock, as I instinctively select a form I know well—a cat with mottled fur—and attack with claws out. She barely defends herself, transforming back into a strong hound, though she can’t retaliate.
She yelps and growls, and I relax slightly, reverting to my original form, then casting a bolt of lightning at her. She dodges, then shifts back into her usual form. As I watch her fiery transformation, I encircle her with lightning, and with a flick of my magic, I catch her wings with the blast.
She yelps loudly, hurtling backward. I stand over her triumphantly, my horn still sparking with power. “Now... let’s start over. Who are you?” I demanded.
She seemed to surrender this time, shrinking down as if in pain as she got back up. “My name... My name is...” Her voice trembles, and here and there, she’s... bleeding? Most likely, yes. “Sawtooth. And you are?”
“Bender...” Then I remember something. “What are you doing here? Aren’t changelings banished?”
“I... I ran away. I disobeyed an order back in Canterlot. I’ve been hiding ever since, hunting animals or grazing in various forms. But you... how did you end up here? Unless you’re here to find me, you must know how bad life is in the hive. Now, you can go back to your original form.” I pause to consider—does she think I’m a changeling? Well, technically, I am... now, but not like her.
“This is my true form. I’m not the same kind of changeling as you.” She gives me a strange look before understanding dawns.
“Magic spell?”
“Exactly. I’ll give you a head start if you want to leave, but soon I’ll collapse; this magic drains my strength.” She looks at me, then, blushing a bit, says softly:
“Actually, I don’t want to go. I’m looking for you. I know I’m running out of strength, but maybe... just maybe you could help me with this endless hunger.” I raise an eyebrow; Sweetie Belle never mentioned what changelings eat, and maybe I don’t want to know. Then it hits me, chilling my blood, and I immediately shift into fox form again, which she mirrors.
“You... you want to eat me?” I ask, brow raised. She gives a wide-eyed look, then bursts into laughter, which oddly enough, even disarms my fox instincts.
“Oh, no, not you... not at all. Changelings feed on love, and they can never have enough. I met someone who told me you might help.” This story is strange, I think to myself. Who, and where did she meet someone who said I, of all people, could help her? Another peculiarity for the list.
Me? Even though, even though, even though... The world turns gray, and I know what this means—the effect of shape-shifting has arrived. My eyes close, and I’m already in dreams.
I feel sorry for the poor soul; he’s capable of one of the most complex magics, but he can’t fully take advantage of it. As he slept there, I couldn't help but find him endearing. I once heard a story in Equestria when I was little. What was its title? Not important. The story was about a little fox whose family was slaughtered by a fur hunter. I always thought it was a sad tale. Now, though, as my mind can create a visual to accompany the facts, I find it rather cute. Then a thought occurs to me: he’ll probably be hungry when he wakes up. I should go get him some food, but I can’t just leave him here. My gaze falls on the cave where I took him first. Leaving him there might be best.
I gently picked him up, carried him into the cave, and set him down on a small pile of leaves. I could see he was likely dreaming of some exciting hunt. Then I turned into a fox myself and went hunting. It was already dusk when I started out in the forest, and by the time I reached a place where there was prey, the night had fully fallen. I arrived at a small lake where plump ducks were roosting. As a fox in body, I sense these are tender-meat birds. I go down to the water’s edge and start sniffing.
I pick up many sweet scents—the scent of rabbits, lizards, even wild geese—but the one I’m truly after is also there: a wild duck. I creep toward the source of the scent and see there are not just one but three ducks. I’m thrilled because that means I won’t go hungry either. I slowly draw back like a bow being pulled taut. I leap… The ducks have no idea, and...
In the next few moments, I pull two big, fat ducks onto the shore; they have weight to match. I can’t take both, so I look at the smaller one and, with a single bite, remove its head.
Third-Person Perspective: Sawtooth believed, and he was partly right, that the cave would protect from everything. However, with the unusually late arrival of spring, there are still fox pups who haven't grown up yet. Ponies rarely come here, but Manticores often feast on fox meat. One survivor of such a massacre, this little newcomer, now carefully sneaks in. His eyes are barely open. His mother is buried somewhere under a vicious bird, his siblings in a collapsed cave. Hunger is a prickly ball within him. When he sees the cave, which might as well be a rabbit's burrow, he crawls in, finding only a little companion, whom his underdeveloped mind identifies as a sibling or a mate. He curls up beside him and soon falls asleep after half a day of running. Now, only two small, furry balls are visible in the darkness, moving occasionally but otherwise looking like stuffed fur capes.
I entered the dream world as a fox, though I still kept full control of my dreams. From my little home, through the door, I was back in the dream world. I always come here, hoping to find Sweetie Belle’s dreams, but now, there was a dream bigger than any I’ve ever seen. Since I've been able to shift forms, I've seen the dreams of all kinds of creatures—specifically those I’ve transformed into.
This dream was vast and incredibly simple. Curries, steaks, all sorts of animal meat… Not the meat itself, but rather the memories of past feasts. This is a fox’s dream, and it’s very close by. I usually don’t enter animal dreams; it hardly makes sense. But this one wasn’t animalistic—it was more like a child’s. This must be a fox cub… Oh well, you only live once. Maybe I’ll learn something useful.
As the dream around me takes shape, it turns surprisingly grim. The depths of a forest at nightfall are visible, the moon beginning to rise. A lakeside or riverside—wherever we are. The fox castle is made of mud; it’s a wonder it stands. A loud, whistling sound is heard. Birds take flight, and a massive shadow blocks the stars.
In animal form, I can't think as clearly, but just enough to sense that as the shadow descends, the dream shatters. The little fox is now directly across from me. Suddenly, I realize that this wasn’t a dream—it was a memory. There we are, sitting across from each other, and I don’t know what to do. This is when I regret that Luna can never know about me.
“Is it you? Are you him?” I raised an eyebrow. The fox language is hard to speak, but the cub’s words are nearly incomprehensible...
“Who?” He raised an eyebrow, then scratched his nose a little before speaking again, slightly more coherently, at least enough for me to understand.
“I lay down next to a relative of mine, and now here you are, looking exactly like him.” I understood from that.
“Whose child are you?” In fox terms, this is like asking one’s name, but it’s not my favorite.
“I… I am Csile, daughter of Bári.” So, her name is Csile. It’s actually cute, like a pet. Now that I look, she has very beautiful fur, and… Wait, why am I even thinking about this?
“I am Leppé, son of Vuk.” Of course, this is a lie, but she won’t know that. “What happened to your family? And if you lay down next to me now, where are we?”
“My family was killed by a buzzing bird, and I don’t know where we are.” I play dumb with her, but I might be able to take advantage of the situation. As it is, I need to find the plane, and she and her dead family might come in handy.
I feel I have the power to do so, so I wake us up, aided by other factors—a delicious smell wafts into our noses, which for a fox is a better wake-up call than a nuclear blast.
When I open my eyes, I find myself in a small den. Csile lies beside me, just opening her eyes. Something warm and wet brushes over me, raising my fur. Then again, but then I get up. Csile does the same.
Sawtooth is deeper in the cave than us. Csile, however, is still not quite alert. The little fox girl yawns and stretches but remains unresponsive.
“Who is your little friend?” he asks me, a bit restlessly. Meanwhile, the scent hits my nose again, reminding me of some fine meat. My mind is still somewhat clear, though.
“She’s Csile; she knows where my friends are.” Yes, fox language is primitive like that—communication is frustrating, but it's still better than kangaroos, who speak in third person about themselves. “Dad’s done now.”
At this moment, Csile begins to chew on something crunchy. The scent hits my nose again, and I realize I have fire in my stomach—I’m so hungry. Csile, however, is gnawing on a headless Tás. “Bon appétit, little one,” says Sawtooth to me like a real fox father.
“Did you catch it?” I didn’t even wait for an answer because I saw that Csile’s small teeth couldn’t tear the tough neck of the duck. “Wait, Csile!” I stepped over and tore a big piece from the duck’s breast for her. When she saw the meat, she finally spat out the bony neck and bit into the big chunk instead. Although I’m a fox with fox instincts, my mind still remains clear enough to think ahead.
“Thank you…” The single word surprised me because it’s rare in fox vocabulary—at least, that’s what I thought. I tore off another piece for her, and another, and another, about 10-15 pieces, before I could finally bite into it myself. I knew she was hungrier than I could ever imagine. Instead of the thigh I had set my eyes on, I bit into the wing, which was mostly bone. I barely took two bites before I heard a faint whimpering.
“More! More!” the little voice cried.
“Coming!” I trotted over and tore off another piece, this time from the thigh…
As they eat, I can’t help but feel a faint bond of affection. It’s weak but mutual, as if they’ve found each other—they just don’t know it yet.
Bender said he knows where his two friends are. If I help them, perhaps he’ll figure out how I can escape this eternal hunger… As I think this, Csile tugs lightly at his ear, failing to tear off a large enough piece.
I lie down and ponder what will happen next, resting my head on the ground, only my tail twitching. I could change back, but I don’t want to scare the little fox.
The two little ones are still eating, but I close my eyes to nap, and before I know it, my thoughts merge, my sight fades, and my sense of smell diminishes. I hear one last little voice:
“Good night, Sawtooth.” And then, not even that, as a sweet dream envelops me—a dream that, for the first time in six months, is peaceful, calm, and comforting. This dream doesn’t resemble a pony’s dream; it can only be mine."
Author's Note
Hello everyone, apologies for the difficult readability in hindsight; if this caused any trouble for anyone, I took inspiration from the works of a popular Hungarian author, István Fekete, who had a habit of naming each animal with an additional unique name. For example, Tás means duck. Also, the translator may have downplayed the fox form's language ability a bit too much, so if anything is unclear, feel free to let me know.
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.