Time Marches Onward

As I was planning to leave for the roads between Ponyville and Canterlot, Rainbow stormed into the guest room. She was clearly worried for my well being, and probably my sanity as well.

“Are you fucking crazy Cal? Just rushing off like this to save that filly? When were you going to tell me about this?” Rainbow was clearly more concerned than she was angry. I tried to comfort her about me leaving.

“Listen, Dashie, I can handle this. I don't want you to worry,” I lied, knowing that I couldn't handle any of what was coming my way.

“That's the thing, Cal... I will worry. I wanted you to be my first. If you... if you die out there, we won't get that chance. Just stay here. Don't take the high road, you don't have to,” She tried pleading with me, but my mind was set. All I could do was comfort her.

“Listen, Dash. A few months ago, I was feeling down. Real down. Vinyl and Octavia caught me about to hang myself, and they helped me down and took me to their house. They fed me and cared for me. They saved my life, Dash. This is the least I can do for them,” I explained, tears coming to my eyes as I remembered that night when I first met them.

“Well then this is the least that I can do for you...” she said softly, kissing me. She laid me back onto the bed and began to rub my cock with her hoof. As I began to stiffen, she put the tip into her mouth and continued to work her hoof up and down. When I began to moan with pleasure, she moved forward, rubbing her clit against my member, shaking with the pleasure. She soon began pushing me into her, slowly sliding down onto my cock. Sweet Celestia, she was amazing. She began to move faster, up and down, the mesmerizing motion lulling me deeper into the pleasure. She leaned down and kissed me, moving her tongue across my teeth and then all of the way into my mouth, still fucking me the whole time. She shuddered with pleasure, suddenly crying out as an orgasm hit her. Her juices and the contractions of her already tight pussy sent me over the edge and I came into her. As she rolled off of me, exhausted, the last words I spoke to her that day were the most true words I've ever said:

“I love you, Dash,” I whispered. I quietly left the room as she drifted off into an almost-sleep, leaving the pony that I loved to go on a mission that would likely kill me.

Before I left, I thanked the Apple family for all of their hospitality, and went to visit Octavia and Vinyl again. I found Vinyl pouring herself a glass of whiskey. Upon seeing me enter, she poured another and slid it across the counter top. She looked more depressed than I'd ever seen her. She was almost like a different pony, and it hurt me to see her like that. I sipped the whiskey and looked deep into her eyes. I saw nothing but pain and hatred for whoever had taken their foal in there.

“I'm going to fix this,” I said in a quiet voice. “I don't care how I have to do it, I'm fixing it,” I finished off the rest of my whiskey, the strong liquid burning my throat the whole way down. I fought the urge to cough and held it down. Before Vinyl could protest, I got up and left, ready to do what needed to be done.

The next week was spent wandering the road between Ponyville and Canterlot. A few times I passed Royal Guard troops looking for the filly along the roads and the edge of the everfree forest, which lined the first half of the road. When I got to the edge of Everfree, I knew what I had to do. I took a deep brath, and I walked into the unholy place. And when I did... The atmosphere changed. It wan't at all subtle enough. It was an instant change. The air was thick and smelled of rot and death, and the fog blocked my vision beyond ten or so feet. I kept walking, trying not to notice the smell. Soon, I got to where I wanted to be. I walked down into the grotto and called Jorge's name. No answer. I called again. Opening his bedroom door. What I saw there... It scarred me.

There, on the small bed, lay Jorge, his neck cut through to the bone, his stomach ripped open and his entrails spread across the sheets in the pattern of a spider's legs. The thick metallic smell of blood filled the air, and a soft gurgling escaped Jorge's ripped and mangled throat every few seconds. But that wasn't the worst of it. On the wall behind Jorge, painted in fresh red blood, were the words “Happy Hunting, Cal”

How did they know I was looking for them? I thought. Suddenly Jorge began gurgling frantically. I ran to him, trying to help. The madness of the situation caused me to lose my cool. I began screaming Jorge's name, and trying to fix his mangled body before I broke down crying. Jorge had been my friend since I'd first come to Ponyville at the age of fifteen. And they had taken him from me. This was personal now. I was going to kill whoever had done this.