“Almost any sect, cult, or religion will legislate its creed into law if it acquires the political power to do so.”
― Robert A. Heinlein
Flee. The very first thought that went through her head. Dodging and weaving through the thicket, lost and confused she kept running, for she knew that they were close behind. Panic set in. Run. It’s all she could think about. The tree root went unnoticed. Pain. Too late. She fell hard on the forest floor.
As she stood a group of hooded figures surrounded her. One stepped forward, removing the hood. It was a mare, a unicorn. She says something, but no sound, just static. More running. After a few seconds blinding pain. Her skull felt as if it was on fire. Her vision fading fast, she notices the group closing in on her. Then nothing.
A blur of lights and colours. She raises a hoof to rub her head, but it is restrained down. In fact, all of her limbs are. She raises her head to look around only to see other ponies in the same state as her. Mares, stallions and foals, all on slaps of rock arranged to be in a circle, with her in the centre.
The hooded figures appear from the tree line, all wearing robes with blue trim. They each took a place next to a pony in the circle. The same mare as before steps forward, heading towards her. She addresses the crowd, then in unison, they all pull out curved daggers while chanting. Then the hooded ponies moved as one and plunged the daggers into the hearts of the captives.....
