I know it will all be better if I can get past that tree. Moving beyond it is something I want more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. My yearning for advancement causes me physical pain. My head throbs, but that's normal. It's been hurting for ages, for ages, for ages. Every day is the same. I awake, I try to sneak out of town. I can't do it without being seen. Maybe that's the key to moving the tree. Key. I get to the Everfree forest and I push back my fears, my anticipations. I go in. I venture deeper and deeper. Past the homely hut of that mad Zebra, beyond the nerve wracking howls of the timberwolves, farther still than the mirror pool. Beyond all those is a small opening. But the opening's not much of an opening, no sir. A tree fell over and it blocks the path. Unless I can find a way past the tree, I'm stuck.
But maybe it's not so bad to be stuck. Maybe that's the reason the tree landed where it did. Coincidences don't happen, not here in Equestria. Not where magic and mind control are common. If something happened, it's because there's a party at play that wanted it to happen. The worst part is that you can never tell who caused it. I hear what some of the ponies say about me. That I'm unsafe. Scary. Untrustworthy. I think those feelings are caused by the fact that I can see what they see, but understand more.
I start my day like any other. By opening my amber eyes. The sun shines through my moth eaten curtains. Flecks fly through the beams of light. I release my breath. I didn't even know I was holding it. The force of the air causes the floaties to scatter, but more fill the void. I push my bedcovers off and roll out of bed, landing on all fours. My left rear haunch pops on contact with my cold wood floor. I listen for any sound that would indicate an intruder. I've yet to have one, but I know that she's going to come for me eventually. I can't live like this forever, after all. With her near omnipresent presence, I know she knows of me. There's no way that she'll let me live for much longer. Even more reason to get to the tree and move on.
I don't hear anything, but that doesn't prove I'm not being watched. I splash some water over my brown body. It's cold, and I shiver. I go to my front door without stopping by the kitchen. I haven't eaten in days. Nothing sounds good, and it smells even worse. The delicacies I used to enjoy now only nauseate me. I leave my house in the cover of sunlight.
The door squeaks to a close. I take one last look at the shack I've called a home for too long. It's dilapidated, falling apart. It leans to the left. Or the right, depending on your angle. Anyway, it leans. The roof is missing shingles, and the yellow walls desperately need more paint. It's surprising how homes look like their owner, don't you think? I take off on the gravel road, doing my best to avoid being seen by anyone who could be up at this ungodly hour. The sun shines down. Beats down, actually. It's like a weight on my shoulders, pushing me down and sapping my strength. I pass the stream, and the gurgling of water sings to me an almost irresistible siren's song. I pause, remembering how water used to parch my thirst. Now it only makes me hurt.
Beyond the stream is Ponyville's bakery. That's the worst part of the trip. The smells coming from the building make me vomit, but judging from the brisk business it does I'm the only one. My stomach groans in longing. It always wants what it can't have. Today, though. I have to get out today. I can't allow myself to get too close, as the pink one will see me. She always does. I've seen her from afar. The bubbly personality, the sheer joy she seems to receive from simply being alive. I want to understand, I really do. But every time I try to approach, she flees. They all do.
I jump into the water. My skin instantly contracts due to the cold, making it hard to move. But it's new and unexpected. I've never left town by this route, and maybe they won't be expecting it. I sink to the bottom fairly quickly and begin heading off at a brisk trot, the current pushing me faster and faster. I go until I can go no more, and I surface. Gasping for air, panting like a measly dog. How it shamed me to be reduced to their ilk. No matter. I've crossed the boundary from Ponyville to wilderness, and nary a soul is any the wiser. I climb from the chilly water to the bank. It takes all my effort. The muscles in my legs are weak, almost non-existent. I force myself out.
I lay on my side in the sun-warmed grass, panting. I look back to the water, but my view is blocked by my torso. My stomach has receded into my abdomen, and my ribs are clearly visible. It's had to have been weeks since I last ate. Maybe months. Maybe when I cross the tree's threshold, I can finally be allowed to eat. I push myself to my hooves and begin the trek. The grass is well worn. I've been down this way many times. I know it by heart.
Turn at the gnarled root. Go 14 steps past the stone that looks like a tooth. Travel at a brisk trot for 41 seconds before taking a sharp right between those trees. Travel through until they stop, and there we have the meadow.
There's green everywhere. The leaves, the moss on the bark. The grass, the frogs. These 40 shades of green always make me blue, for whenever I touch them the color seems to leak out of them, leaving them a horrid shade of gray. I push forward, leaving ugly clouts of graydeath wherever I step. At the end is the tree. That damned tree. The source of all my nightmares. Climbing it would be my magnum opus. The trees are too thick to go around, so I simply stare at it.
I know if I can get around it, I'll finally be happy. Once more, I look for a hoofhold. There are none. There never are. I want to cry, but that would accomplish nothing so I simply stand. My leg gives out and I fall into the downed tree, painfully bruising my side. If only I had wings, I could simply fly over. I close my eyes. Then the thought strikes me: Why don't I?
I jump. After a few moments, I look down and see myself on top of the tree. I'm filled with elation for the first time in ages. The feeling is new, unusual. I jump once more and the beyond swallows me up.
"Quick, grab him!"
The two nurses run in and grab the convulsing stallion, pinning him to the bed. After a few moments, the stallion goes stiff. One of the nurses gently places his head on the stallion's chest. Instead of a heartbeat, his ears are met with silence.
"Damn horrible way for you to start your job, Ice Spinner," said the nurse.
"What just happened?" queried the one called Ice Spinner.
"This one just up and died. 'Bout time, too. He's been sitting here for years, ever since that gray mailmare dropped that package on his head. Knocked him out cold an' he never woke up. I always wondered why they never fired her," he replied. "Must have some connections somewhere, someone who hushed the whole thing up. I hate that, don'choo? People who're incompetent at their jobs but keep 'em due to some political thing."
"Yeah, yeah." Ice Spinner was still visibly shaken
"Look. Death's hard 'n all, but it's a part of life. Better get used to it, boy. 'Specially here. I'll eat my own horseshoe if you can go your entire career without accidentally offin' one yourself."
"No way, Ironshoe. Don't even joke about that."
Ironshoe laughed. "Hey, goan' get me a bodybag so we can roll this guy to the morgue. No reason to leave him here to smell up the place."
