Spike's Quest for Coffee

The land was barren except for the occasional hills and small patches of dead plants. The sound of footsteps of the strange group of friends, marched towards west as they headed for their destination in the quest of the ‘Mirror of Duplication’ and they slowly approaching what seems to be a canyon over the yonder. It was already a few hours since they departed from the buffalo’s camp, and the sun was already above their heads. Braeburn and Little Strongheart were at the back of the group – happily conversing with one another, meanwhile Spike and Gilda were at the front. The clattering sounds of pots and metals made the tired griffon cringed in exasperation.

“Why is she with us?” Gilda whispered bitterly as she took quick glances at Little Strongheart.

“Like I said for a million times, she’s here to guide us to the mirror,” Spike answered as he let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t trust her,” she grumbled to herself but Spike was able to hear her mumblings.

“Why don’t you like her?” he asked, looking puzzled at Gilda.

“It’s none of your business, kid,” she whispered glumly.

“Hey, we are a team, and we shouldn’t fight with each other,” he preached.

“Oh yeah, before you know it, you guys will be ditching me like all of the others,” Gilda snapped.

“Hey, what’s goin’ on here?” Braeburn interjected, galloping towards them with a worried expression.

“Nothing,” Gilda replied coldly.

“What do you mean that we will be ditching you?” Spike asked, ignoring for the fact that the she was not in the mood to continue the subject.

“Just forget about it,” Gilda groused as she took point. Braeburn, in the other hand, looked back at Strongheart with a confused look that was returned by a shrug. Meanwhile, Spike was walking behind the angry griffon with his arms folded and his brow furrowed – not satisfied by her answer.

Since then, the walk had become awkward as there was a thick cloud of silence hung over the group while they entered a small path between the canyons. They started walking in a single file line as the path kept getting narrower and the group became more and more uneasy. It was quiet, too quiet – not only the silence within the group, but also to the silence of the canyons. Suddenly, their heads darted upwards as they heard shuffling noises and footsteps from above. They felt an eerie feeling that they were being followed.

Moments later, the path was beginning to narrow to the point that it was hard enough for Gilda to walk through and Braeburn’s saddlebag kept getting snagged on the rocks that jutted from the walls of the canyons. The footsteps from above had stopped, but were replaced by soft whispers. The group first thought it was a couple of ponies whispering from above but as they walked deeper into the winding narrow pathway, the whispers started to increase in volume.

Spike’s thought was drowned by the cacophony of the ghostly whispers even when he plugged his ears with his claws. Suddenly, a wall of realization hit him. The whispers did not came from above, they were in his head.

“Guys, the whispers aren’t from above,” Spike shouted in realization.

“We know,” Braeburn shouted back as he cringed by the sheer volume of whispers.

“We gotta get out of here,” Gilda squawked as she started to walk faster.

“Hurry,” Strongheart agreed as she took longer steps.

“Gilda, could you fly up and see how far we are from the exit?” Spike yelled as he tried to drown away the whispers.

“I can’t,” the griffon frantically called out. “The path is too narrow, I can’t extend my wings.”

“Just keep going,” Braeburn yelled as the whispers were getting too loud. With that, the group dashed forward as their minds slowly being overpowered by the ethereal whispers.They started to run faster and faster as they were being chased by an invisible manticore while dodging the sharp rocks that jutted from the walls like spears.  Spike felt like his mind was at the edge of breaking point as the whispers were starting to overpower his thoughts.

The edge of his vision started to darken as the whispers starting to change into mind numbing shrieks. He closed his eyes with his claws in hope that the nightmare would stop. Suddenly, he felt he was picked up by something. He glanced through his claws and saw he was being carried by Braeburn. The pony was huffing crazily because he was carrying the baby dragon and a saddlebag full of supplies while galloping for his life. Spike carefully grasped onto the Braeburn’s mane so that he would not fall off.

Fortunately, not long after, the group noticed there light shone through the pathway. They ran faster as they felt a sense of relief starting to wash over them. Without a second too long, they leaped out the canyon’s pathway and unceremoniously dropped onto the dirt ground. As whispers were slowly fading, the odd group was breathing heavily as they tried to catch their breath from extreme exhaustion while Spike trembled in pain from his mental strains.

“W-what was that?” Gilda huffed, sprawling on the dirt covered ground.

“T-t-that pathway was known as ‘The Path of the Lost Souls’,” Little Strongheart answered between breaths as she slowly stood up.

“Are you okay, Spike?” Braeburn panted, looking concern at the panting baby dragon.

“I’m fine,” Spike answered between gasps of air. Then, he slowly stood up and gingerly rubbed his head. His jaw dropped open as he looked towards their next destination. Spike was stunned as he casted his eyes upon the vast ocean of sand while he was standing at the very edge of the dirt ground.

“Yee-haw,” the Braeburn hollered cheerfully. “I never thought it was this big,” he whistled.

“Huh?” Spike looked at him, puzzled. Braeburn smiled and walked in front of the tired group. He stood on his hind legs and stretched his fore hooves as wide as he can.

“Welcome to San Palomino Desert,” he chuckled.

It was already night time as their worn and sandy faces were lit by the campfire. There were a couple of set up tents – a commodity by Braeburn, and a bubbling pot of vegetable stew was cooking above the fire. Several empty canteens of water littered around Braeburn as he chopped carrots, potatoes and other types of vegetable into the stew.

Little Strongheart was sitting near the fire as she meditated to connect herself with the land. She hummed, slowly rocked her body side to side. Gilda was sitting alone in the dark under the moonlit sky, gazing into the array of stars.

Spike, however was sleeping in one of the tents, his body jerked as he recounted the incident from the canyons. He was sweating profusely and was beginning to mumble something incoherent.

“Spike, please hurry,” a faint and familiar voice whispered inside his mind.

“T-Twilight?” he muttered, tossing and turning his body, trying to find solace.

“Hurry,” it whispered. Spike screamed and quickly sat up. He was breathing heavily as he tried to decipher what the voice was trying to tell him or what was the dream all about. He clasped his head as tears started to roll down his cheeks.

“Twilight,” he muttered, crying in the darkness.

“Hey,” a voice whispered. He looked and saw Gilda was standing in front of the tent.

“I heard you scream,” she spoke softly. “Everything’s cool?”

“Yeah,” Spike answered as his voice was getting raspy.

“What’s wrong, pipsqueak?” Gilda asked softly as she stepped closer, which surprised Spike.

“I-I had a nightmare, that’s all,” he croaked.

“I see,” she muttered, sitting next to him. Both of them sat in the camp as they looked into campfire. The fire danced in the night breeze, the occasional sound of Braeburn cutting vegetable into the stew and the soft hums of Strongheart’s meditation filled the tent. “You still want to know what I meant by ditching me behind like the others did?” she spoke up, casting her gaze onto the ground.

“If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.” Spike sniffed.

“It was years ago,” the Gilda started. “I was not always this much of a jerk when I was still a cub. Actually, I was the happiest griffon the world. I had many friends and each day was like a dream come true,” she said reminiscently as she pawed the sand.

Spike looked audaciously with his wet eyes at the reminiscing griffon. “My friends and I were planning to go to the mountains in our homeland and jumped to see how fast we could go. We talked about on how cool it was if we able to make a sonic boom if we manage to fly at the right speed.” She chuckled sadly.

“I saw my friends jumped from the mountaintop and none of them were brave enough to do a sonic boom,” she said, grasping a clawful of sand.

“Why?” Spike hoarsely asked.

“Because the mountain we were at wasn’t high enough and it was the only high place we could reach at that time without collapsing from lack of oxygen,” she explained, blowing away the sand. “Then,” she continued. “When it was my turn, my friends were challenging me if I could perform the sonic boom,” she said, looking deeply into the fire. “I was tempted, and without a second thought, I jumped. I was speeding towards the ground in a bone crunching speed and the ground was approaching faster than I expected. A few seconds in, I spread my wings in hope that I could pull up at the right moment,” she croaked.

“Did you make it?” Spike asked, looking at her tentatively.

“No,” Gilda answered bluntly.

“What happens next?”

“My friends just flew away,” she hissed. Spike carefully turned to look and was surprised as tears were flowing down her cheeks. “They knew I was hurt, they heard I was calling out for help, but they left me so I would just walk back home, injured and angry,” she growled, her tail whipping the air.

Spike felt sorry for Gilda as she internally sobbing. When Spike just about to say something, Gilda’s head darted to look at him, gazing at the him with her red eyes. “That’s why I taught myself to not show weakness, to not trust anypony,” she concluded, with her voice starting to hoarse. “What you hear here is a secret, you got that?” she hissed.

“Got it,” he nodded, starting to feel better. When Gilda just about to leave, Spike called to her. “Thank you... for sharing your story.”

“No problem.” A hint of smile cracked over her beak.

Moments later, the whole group was enjoying their dinner around the campfire. Spike was surprised by Braeburn’s ability to cook – albeit he worked in an eatery on his free time. They spent their time around the campfire telling scary stories, ancient tales from buffalo folklore and even performed a sing-a-long. Everypony had a fantastic time; even Gilda was silently enjoying some of the stories from a distance. When midnight came, everypony went into the set up tents where Spike was sharing tents with Braeburn and Gilda was sharing the tent with Little Strongheart. It was a peaceful night until... Gilda started to snore.

The next morning, everypony except for Gilda had worn out faces as they trudged along the windy desert. Then, when the griffon was hovering up in the sky, she saw the end of the desert and swooped down to meet with the others. “Hey, I see we are not far away from solid ground!” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Awesome,” Spike cheered.

“I think I’ve seen enough sand,” Braeburn chuckled.

“Let’s get going then,” Little Strongheart said as they marched on their way. A few moments later, they saw what appears to be a ruin over the desert, with something shining at the pinnacle of the old tower like ruin. “That’s the temple where the mirror is located,” Little Strongheart explained to the puzzled members of the group. “We better be careful from now,” she said warningly. All of them nodded except for Gilda, who flew casually ahead.

With that, they kept walking over the sandy hills of the desert, blasted by a series of strong winds but they took no heed. They were so close to reach solid land until Strongheart whispered. “Stop.” They all stopped on their tracks. The Little Strongheart’s head darted left and right as if she was searching for something. “Now,” she began, whispering. “Nopony say anything, don’t move, don’t talk and don’t scream, understand?” she whispered warningly.

Little Strongheart carefully looked over her shoulder and noticed the group had a decent enough space between each other. It was a perfect condition to execute her plan. “Gilda,” she whispered. “I need you to trust me.”

“Why should I?” she whispered back.

“Because if you want to live, you’ll listen to me,” Strongheart hissed.

“Fine,” Gilda sighed glumly.

“I need you to take off into the sky as fast and as far as you can. Don’t look back, and don’t even think to slow down,” Little Strongheart instructed, whispering. “Do you understand?”

“Fine,” Gilda whispered back.

“On my mark, ready....” Little Strongheart silently whispered. “Now!” she yelled. Without a millisecond late, Gilda rocketed into the sky as the ground where she stood erupted and a colossal snake with no eyes was right behind her – barely escaping the snake’s sharp fangs. The snake noticed it was not able to catch its prey and dived back into the sandy ground, causing the earth below to tremble.

“What was that?” Spike shrieked, dreaded by the sight of the monster and Braeburn was stunned until he was unable to move or say anything.

“Sand snakes,” the Little Strongheart hissed. She looked at Gilda’s direction and beckoned her to hover closer with series of nods. Spike saw that both Gilda and Strongheart we planning on something. He noticed Gilda protested to whatever they were planning but finally gave in, sighing exasperatedly. She slowly flew towards Braeburn’s saddlebag and took out a pot. She hovered above the group and whispered the plan.

“I’ll hit the pot to distract the snake,” she whispered, glaring at the Strongheart. “You guys run as fast as you can, got it?” she whispered as she looked at Spike. Without another word, all of them nodded in agreement.

“Now!” Gilda yelled as she hit the pot as loud as she could. The ground beneath her erupted and she quickly dodged the attack. At the same time, the group broke into a dash as they were running on a sandy death trap. As Gilda hit the pot to distract the colossal snake from getting the group, two more emerged in front of them.

“We’re on its nest, run!” Strongheart screamed as the group was starting to get tired. Spike was huffing as he slowly getting left behind by the group, his heart filling with horror and hopelessness as the sand around him bursts and the sand snakes were chasing beneath him. Spike felt the sands under his legs began to tremble and suddenly he was flung into the air as the snake let out a primal hiss. He was falling into the mouth of the beast, waiting for his end. Gilda swiftly caught him just in time and flapped her wings like she never before. Gilda expertly dodged the barrage of attacks until she crashed onto the solid ground, skidding into a halt.

The rest of the group managed to escape the sandbox of death as all of them gasped for air. Spike was bawling in Gilda’s arms, crying in fear. He was tearing as he thought his end was near. Then, he heard the Gilda whispered, “You okay, pipsqueak?”