Prelude: The Scarecrow
Fire broke loose over the village of Hayfield. The smell of smoke smothered Rosewood's face. It felt hot and it suffocated her. Try as she might, her body was held down by some tremendous force, and she could not move. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. Everything she did to escape her danger only brought her more pain. The shroud of smoke covering her could only make out the faintest of view. What she could see was night sky above her, glowing red from the fire that broke loose over the village. Looking below her, she could see a smoldering support beam pinning her hind legs. The roar of a ferocious beast cut the night sky. There were screams and shouts coming from the outside as ponies ran for cover from the attacker. It could mean only one thing: a dragon attack. Another scream was familiar in the air, and it was close. It was her parents struggling to fight through the rubble that was their home to her trapped body.
"Rosewood! Rosie, are you there?" Her father and mother were yelling at the top of their lungs, overtaking the roars of the dragon. "Please be okay! Rosie! We're coming to get you out!"
Struggling through the thick smoke to breathe, Rosewood answered out, "Mommy! Daddy! Help me! It....it hurts!"
She could see the silhouette of her parents frantically pushing aside rubble to make their way to their trapped daughter. What seemed like moments felt like hours as Rosewood struggled to breathe in the hot fire and smoke, and all while her parents fought through the rubble of their burning home.
She could almost see them approaching the threshold of her room, what’s left of it, when another roar filled the sky. It sounded close, and Rosewood began to panic. She tried to worm her way out of the wreckage again, but every attempt she made was to no avail. She winced in pain from the pressure on her hind legs. She tried to reach forward to push the beam off, but it was a burning hunk of charcoal by now, and was hot to the touch. What wasn't burning was pressing further on her hind legs, making the pain worse with every movement. The roar was louder once again, only matched by the sound of angry voices. Could it be the guards? Incoherent voices sought to fight the roar of the dragon, and it kept getting closer.
Another shout came from the threshold, "Rosewood, sweetie! We're here! We're going to get you out, hang on!" Suddenly, a crackle came from the beam above Rosewood's legs, and a snap brought the support down on top of the charred wreckage, and brought a terrible pain on Rosewood's body. She screamed in agony, and it joined the mad orchestra of disaster and battle filling in the air.
One last sound came through the deafening noise: an explosion. A bright light rocketed through the sky and whitened out the world around Rosewood and her burning room. Through her burning vision and streams of tears, she saw what looked to be the shadow of the dragon. It was slowly swallowed by the light, and was no more. The light faded, and everything became dark. The smoke had settled, and Rosewood lay still on her bed, lightly trembling. No sound from her voice, no tear from her eye. She felt herself fade from consciousness, and the world around her faded in to darkness.
The damage was done to the town. Countless homes and stores were nothing but smoldering ruin after the attack. Rosewood only met the beginning of more tragedies after the destruction of her home. She had lost her parents to the fallen support beam along with her right hind leg, part of her face was badly burnt, and she was left with nothing. Months followed in aiding the village from the attack, and she found herself in the care the village guard for a while. They brought her to a neighboring town, Bounty, as they sorted out the destruction in Hayfield. She started again, going to school in Bounty and staying in her village's shelter, but things were not looking good for their upkeep. With most of the funds going towards rebuilding, the shelter did not have much to eat, and it didn’t help that Bounty wouldn’t even offer one bit to help out the displaced citizens of Hayfield.
Trouble always awaited Rosewood at school every morning. Her injuries made what would be a normal, young mare in to a disabled, disheveled pony with a wooden crutch. She never knew why she deserved such troubles, and why the adults wouldn’t help her. Over time, she was given the nickname “Scarecrow” because of her one wooden leg, her ragged clothes and her straw-like, dirty mane and tail. If she had a bit for every time those ponies told her they would put her out in a crop field and have the crows peck at her burnt face, she could buy herself away from that place. Where I could go that ponies wouldn’t mock and ridicule me, she wondered. Anywhere seemed better than here.
Every night, the memory of her old life lost to that dragon attack came back to haunt her in her dreams, along with the blinding light. She would wake up in a cold sweat and look at her leg, believing it was still there being crushed under the weight of that burning beam. Nothing was there but a stump where it had been. She could consider herself lucky that she did not perish in that fire. The fire had sealed her leg, preventing her from bleeding out. The entirety of the burn had worked up to her cutie mark, which depicted a sheaf of wheat. It seemed her destiny was in hard work in harvesting wheat and baking bread. She could recall fond memories of how she helped her parents in the kitchen, how that one day of making all that bread for the harvest celebration revealed her cutie mark. Her parents were so proud…
Eventually, the Hayfield camp had to be taken down. Hayfield could never be put back together from all the damage done. Rosewood’s last refuge now crumbled away, just like the ash of her old home. All of this tragedy and misfortune in such a short time left her wondering how many more tears she could cry for her misery. She thought about the great ruler, Princess Celestia, wondering how great she really was if this broken and downtrodden mare could never find help or healing through her fellow pony.
All of Hayfield’s misplaced citizens were scattered after the ordeal, some finding better luck in Ponyville. Rosewood had no such luck of her own. Her fueled distrust of other ponies left her an angry phantom on the streets of Bounty. No one would pay any look to her direction, and like a scarecrow in a farmer’s field, she would scatter all ponies that came near. What was left of this young mare beauty was now sullied, and was spent pushing and shouting away anypony that came near.
A month had passed; the weather began to chill at the end of harvest season. By then, there were not many ponies on the street. Rosewood spent her usual day shrouding her head in a ragged cowl, hanging her head low and walking along the shadiest areas in the town. It was late at night, and not a soul was in sight, save for her. Feeling brave, Rosewood made her way to the main thoroughfare, where the town’s shops and open markets stretched as far as the eye could see. The mere sight of a restaurant made her sick with hunger, and she forced herself from salivating. She had enough trouble finding clean water as it is, and the sight of soda bars made her lips dry. “This can’t go on,” she said to herself. “I’ve suffered enough on my own in these streets. The grass on the ground can’t even feed me.” She scanned the storefronts with her good eye, pondering her next move. “Just one store. Just one….sneak in, take a bit of food. Those dumb ponies won’t even know it’s missing. I’m so hungry…” The very thought of breaking in for food made her itch, and her pace became frantic. She may have lost her trust in ponies, but she was at least willing to forgive their cooking if it meant having one little bite.
She immediately stood stil. She stopped in front of a small storefront with a large window. Inside, she could see stocks and shelves full of assorted bread and baked goods. Everything from Rye to Pumpernickel to Harvest Wheat; the wheat bread caught her eye. She looked back to her cutie mark and remembered that fateful day. How proud her parents were when she discovered her destiny. It was too bad cutie marks couldn’t predict the whole future. What would have changed if that dragon didn’t take away everything from her, she wondered. Maybe this store would be hers, and she would see customers lined up to the streets wanting to buy loaves of bread and baked goods from her shop. The more she thought about it, the less she desired to take that all away. Not one pony in this town gave her a chance, and she gave up on every single one of them. Why, suddenly, did she feel any sympathy for this store and its owner? It was a feeling she couldn’t comprehend. She couldn’t find the strength to send her hoof straight through the window and take a loaf of bread from the display. Instead, her hooves moved her away from the window to move down the street.
“Hey you!”
A voice shot through the dark of the night and stunned the lone mare. “Thinking of breaking in, are you? We ought to put you in jail for attempted robbery,” the voice called again. Rosewood turned to see two of the town guard approaching her from the shadows. Fear filled her, and she began to quiver. If she feared and hated anything more than other ponies, it was prison. The tiny cells, the harassment from guards, the absence of light, and the thought of never venturing out in to the world again; It was all too much for her young mind to handle.
“Oh, now you’re AFRAID of us, little thief? You should be, because you’re not going to like what we do to petty robbers,” said the first guard. The guards had polished gold helmets, and the one who spoke had a red mane and a toothy grin, like a shark spotting prey. The second guard had a blue mane, and he chimed in to the red guard’s statement. “That’s right. Say, tell her what exactly we do to little thieves like this piece of garbage,” the blue guard said. The red guard spoke, “glad you asked, my friend.”
They were closing in on Rosewood, who was backed up to the window, cowering in fear, lightly whimpering. “Well, first we lock you away in a dinky little cell, of course,” he continued, “then we make sure you feel right at home by talking to you REALLY loudly. Even while you sleep! Oh, and we close a few windows up in the cell for good, just in case you decide to think you have any hope of escaping. In other words, you can kiss your freedom goodbye, you petty, ugly, little thief!” The guards were above her head, now, and she looked up to them in fearful eyes. “Come on! Let’s take her to the prison,” the blue guard shouted, “I haven’t got all night!”
“N-No! I won’t go!” Rosewood stuttered, backing away what little she could, farther to the wall.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said the red guard mockingly as he approached her. “I wasn’t under the assumption that you could have a choice. Way I see it, you already chose to see that poor, innocent bakery as a place to do your evil deeds and take what’s not yours. You lost your choice when you decided to attempt robbing that store. You’re coming with me, and that’s final!”
“Yeah,” said the blue guard, chiming in once again. “There’s no hope for you now, little thief. Your little freak show is over, creep.”
Freak...creep...Scarecrow.
The fear was gone, now. They pulled the last straw, and the gears of rage began to turn within her mind. No one calls her a freak. No one calls her a creep. No one makes fun of Rosewood.
No one.
She gritted her teeth and stamped her front hooves to the ground. The guards were startled, but their surprise was quickly replaced with playful attitude. “Oh, did I say something wrong,” the red guard said while he mimicked the mare’s hoof stomping. “I always enjoy a challenge!” He nodded to the blue guard, barking, “Take her down!” The blue guard dashed to the side, forming a flank near Rosewood, while the red guard charged forward to tackle her. The guards seemed so slow to her, as she sidestepped the charging guard and grabbed him by the neck with her front hooves. Using his momentum, she sent his head careening through the shop window behind her, shattering it to pieces.
The blue guard filled with rage, shouting, “You’ll pay for that, you creep!” He charged towards her with ramming force, and struck her left shoulder. He was faster than she thought, and the force of the blow sent her skidding on the dirt. With her body already weak from malnutrition, she couldn't put up a fight.
The blue guard stood back, preparing himself for another charge. A sound of thunder echoed in the distance as the guard made his charge towards the weakened mare. Rosewood’s body was aching, and it would be too slow to get up and move out of the way of his attack. The blue guard was upon her, now, and he was just about to ram her. A flash of lightning, and the guard was still.
He was only inches away from Rosewood’s body before he was stopped dead in his tracks. A sharp and intense pain ran over the blue guards body, as he looked down to find that a wooden leg had stabbed directly through his chest. He felt the blood rushing out of his body, and began to numb. It would be the blue guard to feel the last blow as he toppled to the ground, petrified. Rosewood pulled her wooden leg from out of the still laying body of the guard, and with some effort, she pulled herself up from the ground.
She winced as she felt something small and cold fall on the smooth side of her cheek. She looked up and saw drop after drop of rain begin to fall down from the heavens. Each drop began to mix with the tears on her own face, as her fury met its apex from every mental, physical, and emotional scar she endured, now made manifest in this very moment in time. She opened her mouth, and her words made war with the rain and thunder.
“I am sick of this world! I’ve lost everything to this wicked place around me, and you only now express your sympathy to me. Do you know what I’ve had to endure? I’ve lost my family, my face, my pride, and my home.” Her weak legs stomped to the ground in rage, regardless of the pain she felt in each stamp, as she continued to shout to the sky. “It was clear you never cared for me or cared about me. I was foolish for thinking you would one day see that when I wasn’t at my weakest. I’ve been wrong all this time, and it’s clear to me now, more than ever, that I’m truly not wanted. Fine…fine!”
“I’ll go. Seems I still have enough pride in me left to see myself out of everyone’s lives and not out of life itself. But where I will go, even the sky will not find me. And I will never return again. You hear me, Celestia? You have won, and I’ve lost everything. I will leave the world running the way it wants to. Maybe I am just a scarecrow. Maybe I am just a freak. Maybe…”
Her voice trailed off, and she ceased stomping. She looked over the scene of the attack from the blue guard lying still on the ground, bleeding profusely, to the red guard out cold in the bakery display. She saw the puddle of blood in the rain, and looked back at her wooden leg. What was left of the blood had washed out in the rain and ran through the cracks in the ground from where she stood. She didn’t want to think about whether or not he was still alive.
She hobbled past the blue guard’s body to the red guard, whose body was decorated in shards of glass and bread. Out of all the suffering she went through in her life, she found some comedy in this picture, and it cooled the burning anger in her mind. Looking over, she saw a single loaf of harvest wheat bread still in its display. The hunger struck again, and she didn’t hesitate to clean the glass from the bread and pick it up with her teeth.
The rain around her began to lighten to a drizzle, and with the loaf in her mouth, she began to walk down directionless towards the shadows of the town. She kept walking until she eventually made it to the edge of town. In her view, there was a sea of trees and forest, high mountains, and a long dirt road. The road stretched onward through a low point in the mountains before its path could no longer be seen. To Rosewood, there was only one clear choice to be made at that moment. With only a piece of the loaf left in her mouth, she ate the last piece and made her first steps out of the town of Bounty and in to the path of the dark forest ahead of her.
End of Prelude
Author's Note
If you want something musical to go along with this chapter, feel free to play these albums as you read (neither of them have lyrics): (Artist - Album)
God is an Astronaut -- All is Violent; All is Bright
Cloudkicker -- Beacons
