A Foreign Savior: War On Two Fronts

Chapter 1

I stood in front of this strange-looking hut in the middle of the forest, a cold shiver passing down my spine. Back home, my mom used to tell me all these bedtime stories about kids getting lost in forests and then meeting all sorts of sticky ends. I didn't plan on following in their footsteps.

Middle of the forest? Check.

Strange looking hut? Check.

Weird music and an unrevealed voice? Check.

On second thoughts, maybe the forest isn't such a bad place after all-

The voice took note of my hesitation:

"Why the fuss, do come, my child; now, you know, I'm truly mild!"

Voice speaking weirdly for no good reason? Check.

A sudden rustle in the bushes behind me caused my head to snap backwards. There was nothing I could see in the undergrowth. What if- I gulped.

I looked back at the hut, sweaty palms clasping ever tighter to my revolver. At least those kids never had the benefit of firepower.

With trembling arms, looking backwards constantly, I slowly put my fingers around the handle. It was greasy to the touch. I withdrew, revolted. Green paint was smudged on my hand. Eurgh...

Another rustle. I snapped my head back. Nothing again. Another cold shiver.

Hastily, more determinedly, I grabbed the handle and pushed down hard. The door swung open. I enter, gun half-raised, still looking backwards. "I'm sorry," I began, slowly turning my gaze back into the wood. "I'm just not very sure what to expect here- "

The words died away as I came face to face with the sum of my fears. The voice wasn't human. It wasn't human. It was a... zebra.

I blinked. It was still a zebra. I blinked again. It was still a zebra. I dared not rub my eyes. And then it spoke.

"Welcome, child, Zecora's hut; but, for you, may I ask 'what?'"

My brain wasn't functioning properly. "Y-you're a z-z-zebra!" I exclaimed dumbly.

"Yes, a kind of pony far; please, pray tell, just who you are,"

The weirdness was too much. I raised my gun, comforting myself in the only explanation that seemed even mildly plausible.

"Y-y-you... stay back!" I stammered, frantically backpedaling back out towards the door. "If you d-do any magic, I... I'm gonna shoot!" My left hand groped for the handle back out to the forest. I couldn't find it.

The zebra's shock turned into laughter. "Why, you do fear magic thus? In that case, don't be with us!"

Us? There were MORE of these... things?  "Th-there are more of you!?" I chattered, eyes shooting wide in fear. This gun can only get me so far. "Why hasn't anyone on Earth told me about you... things?"

Zecora - I think that's what she said, earlier - chuckled again. This was definitely unnerving.  "Ah, the zebras, quite rare, we; in this land, I think, just me!"

I breathed a sigh of relief. Alright, so I just have to deal with her. My grip on the gun tightened again as I took better aim. "Alright then... enough of the poems, Shakespeare," I commanded uneasily. "Y-You do anything silly, and I'm blasting you back into... uh... Narnia! Now turn back into your real form, and tell me where I am! P-please," I added, worried that my orders may have inflamed tensions.

The zebra didn't seem to realize that I had in my hand a dealer of death. She merely trotted over and began poking at the revolver with her hoof, her eyes looking up the barrel. "D-don't do that," I tried to menace, but failed miserably. I was shaking all over. I didn't think I could bear causing injury to another being - albeit not human - in the span of one day.

The zebra withdrew to my side and spoke gently, perhaps cognizant that I was, perhaps, not of this world:

"I still don't know what you are; you may come from lands afar.

I am only what you see; I will not a Changeling be.

Welcome, friend, to pony land; in Equestria here we stand;

Peaceful folk we ever are; friendly folk we never bar."

I stood next to the door, still aiming my gun pointlessly at empty space in the middle of the hut, my mind getting more addled by the minute. Changeling? Pony? Equestria? What!?

I sighed. It was pointless to keep up this charade any longer. It's not like I can actually defend myself against magic. I lowered the gun. "I'm sorry... Zecora, is that right?" The zebra nodded. "I'm sorry again... I think we got off to a bad start. I'm Francis, and I don't know where I am. Ok," I clarified hastily, fearing that I might have insulted the zebra's explanation skills. "I know I'm in this... Equestria... pony land.  But I've never heard of this place. Is it in Africa? Or Asia?

Zecora raised an eyebrow. "Africa? Asia? I see;  you are definitely- "

"Alright, so I'm not on Earth then, that's what you're saying," I interjected, not particularly interested in how that line would have turned out. The zebra pondered for a bit, then nodded.

Great.  No family, no friends, no nothing. Despite this, the sinking feeling I had expected didn't seem to really materialize. Earth hadn't been all that good to me, to be perfectly honest.

The zebra gave me some space to mull things over. The sound of metallic clanging resonated throughout the little hut.

After a long while, I finally emerged from my contemplation. "Um... Zecora?"

The zebra looked up from her work. She was slowly heating up a cauldron. Wait, a CAULDRON!?

Images of evil witches eating defenseless humans once again relentlessly flashed through my eyes.

I gotta leave! "Um, Zecora, what can I do around here?" I enquired quickly, silently praying to whatever God was in this land. Let me go, let me go!

"Oh, so soon? Well, that's a shame; sit, let's play a little game!"

Terrible choice of words that only increased my determination to leave. "I... I don't want to get in your hair - mane, Zecora." My once-again shivering hand gently closed around the handle of my blade.  "Please... tell me where else I can go."

The zebra pouted a little bit.

"Right, my child, then head on off; down the path, a sweet smell soft.

Through the river, rushing wild; up the whiff of camphor mild.

Scent the road: forget-me-not; follow it to Canterlot!"

"Um... right, Zecora," I thanked the zebra half-heartedly, still not sure if she had laid some trap for me en route. "Thanks. I'll head on out."

"Fare thee well, and see you soon; now, when lost, do seek the Moon!"

"Okay, Zecora. Thanks again." I rapidly shut the door, slightly relieved to know that I had escaped alive.

I looked up at the sky. The white moon was still very much in the air. It was at least twice the size of Earth's satellite. Seek the Moon? What the hell does that even mean: is this 'Canterlot' below the Moon or something?

I quickly dashed off from the hut, running with still-complaining limbs to a point where the hut could no longer be seen. I looked around. Nothing seemed here. I holstered the revolver and took out my knife. Close quarter combat.

"Right," I mumbled to myself, trying to recall Zecora's directions. "Down the path, a sweet smell soft."

I sniffed the air. No smell besides that of dirt.

I walked around for another minute, sniffing the air like somebody getting high on oxygen. Still no 'sweet smell'.

"Darn it, Zecora, you lied- " I began. But an abrupt recollection - "Do you know, class?" Mrs. Amherst chirped. "Horses have a better sense of smell than humans...". I slapped my palm on my face. Of course. The zebra had given me directions according to her sense of smell. Which she must have thought I had. And I didn't.

I remembered Sun Tzu saying (alright, it was a quote from Total War) "If you do not know your enemy and do not know yourself, you will be in danger in every battle." Guess I'm in constant danger now, then, I couldn't help but smirk bitterly.

I looked around. Every way seemed to lead to more impenetrable woodland. Having no better options, I decided on a random direction and began walking for as long as it took to find something. Above me, the Moon observed, serenely drifting through the star-studded sky.

*

I am bound and gagged to a chair. Travis Hawking and his goons are around me. He's holding his bat, the iron nail menacingly dripping red. A flickering light swings unsteadily above me, revealing moving, changing, vanishing shadows within the darkness beyond. How many people are here? Five? Ten? Twenty? A hundred-

"Well. You're awake." The cruel, slick voice of Travis Hawking notes.

"Mmph!" I struggle against my bonds. Fruitless. A dry laugh from behind me. Footsteps. And then out of nowhere, a heavy hand lands on my face. The chair tips over and I collide with the cold, wet floor. And even through the ringing in my ears, I can hear the laughter. They are jeering. They are taunting...

"Get up." Travis snarled, kicking the bottom of the seat. "Oh wait - you can't."

Rough hands grab my shoulders and right me. Travis comes into view again, slapping his bat against his hands. His nose is still broken. He breaks into a devilish grin. Some of his teeth are missing.

"Well, looks like the little jerk got a bit worked up, didn't he?" he lent close for the kill. His breath stank of alcohol and nicotine.

Before I could even mumble a few words in protest, he touches my forehead and presses down hard with his finger. I lose my balance. Another dull thud as the back of my head meets the ground. The world rings. More jeering. More laughter.

"Get up." The legs I now see behind me move, and before long I am once again face-to-face with the mangled face of the school jock. Again he leans in, malice dripping from every orifice.

"Let's have some fun, Francis," he whispers. Silence. I feel his breath slowly creep towards my ear.

"LET'S HAVE SOME FUN!" he screams abruptly, seemingly tearing at my very eardrums.

I barely register the crowd around me breaking into a frenzied bay. "Tra-vis! Tra-vis! Tra-vis... !"

The well-built athlete withdraws. "BRING JOSEPH!" he roars in sadistic anticipation.

"Jo-seph! Jo-seph!" the crowd follows. The shuffling of feet behind me, the sound of cheers and whoops. My heart starts beating faster. I close my eyes in blind terror. A cold chill sweeps down my back.

"Open your eyes, Francis," Travis mocks in a musical trill. "Open your eyes, Francis, or I'll break both your legs... "

Nothing has happened - yet. No winning situation. I slowly creak open my eyelids.

Joseph is standing before me... no. No. This can't be Joseph, my best friend. Gone is his warm face and kind smile. Gone were those boyish freckles and unaligned teeth. This Joseph was meaner, leaner, grimmer. Blood spattered all over his face. His grin is crazed, evil even. Scars on his cheek and left eye. The stench of nicotine and cocaine wafted around him.

"J-Joseph?" I stammer, eyes flashing wide at this horrible sight. My words get translated through the gag into a series of unintelligible noises. "W-what are you d-doing?"

Joseph doesn't respond. He grin spreads. He approaches.

"Give him the bat." Travis' orders make it quite clear what my erstwhile friend is to do.

Joseph approaches with a bat. I silently beg him, whimpering, sobbing. He ignores me.

"Open his eyes." The rough hands of two goons force a contraption onto my face. My right eyelid involuntarily shoots open, despite my best efforts. Joseph is now in front of me.

The nail at the tip of the bat teases a tear out of me as it makes contact with the soft cornea. I am no longer able to speak.

"Nice and easy now, Joseph."

My torturer pauses for a while, an eternal while, before he abruptly begins leaning in-

"NO!" I screamed, arms flailing, tears flowing, as I ejected myself back up into the cool Equestrian night. There I sat, panting, my mind a complete blank. The night air felt cool on my face. Still in the forest. Still on the mat of leaves I had gathered. I was still alive.

Instinctively, I slapped my hand against the right hand side of my face. Half the world blacked out. My eye is still here, thank God. The heaving continued unabated.

Night winds continued to blow. The trees rustled. I dart my eyes around, expecting something, seeing nothing. Except shadows.

Those inching, dark shadows begin to dance around me... Francisssss...

My breath quickened. I look around. More shadows, slowly creeping in, their dark figures silently slipping over the trees and the vines, each one mumbling, whispering... Francisss...

I couldn't care less if it was real or if it was merely a fiction. "N-no!" I yelled into the ether, fumbling around with panicking fingers for my gun and blade. "No! G-go away! Go away!"

Francisss... the rustling leaves and the moving bushes continued to crackle and whisper.

"N-no, go away, go away, g-go away!" I blubbered, weeping uncontrollably under the stress. I raised my trembling gun to the sky. "P-please! L-leave me alone!"

Francisss- the strain was too much. My trigger finger drew back.

BANG.

A terrified squeal from a nearby bush. I snap my head around. Two azure eyes stared back at me. The world stopped.

I ran.

The forest erupted around me. Silence broke into the mechanical whirr of insect wings and an alien language of clicks and squeaks. I didn't care. I couldn't afford to look back. For the second time in a day, my legs screamed back into action. Vines and twigs snapped under me. Thorns and branches nipped at my exposed arms and face. I didn't care. The whirr was catching up.

There was only one solution. I raised the gun again, firing an unsteady round into the sky. The clicks and squeaks fell back behind me. Anything, anything to buy more time!

Mud spattered on my legs and seeped into my feet. Searing cramps once again tore through my limbs. The outside noises faded: the only thing I could now hear were the sounds of my pained breath, and the continued pat-pat of my tormented body.

My head began to bob back and uncontrollably, what little strength I had left quickly abandoning ship. No, hold it together, hold it together...

The sudden glint of gossamer appeared on my left. I snapped back into being. That whirring sound - those beating wings - those azure eyes... I came face to face with a living nightmare. Black shadow; black, horned shadow; black, horned shadow with legs shot through, glass-like wings flitting, opening its mouth, its vampire-like mandibles glinting in the cruel moonlight-

BANG. The creature fell back, squealing and spasming. Another respite. My heart is pounding. My legs are aching. I turn my head back, once again losing control... any moment now... my life would end-

Light! The woods opened up, ever so slightly, in front of me. Light streamed in from its entrance. A path led through it - a path - escape.

I bolted, ignoring any shrill protests from my body. The world grew brighter. The forest grew thinner. The whirring got lighter... and there: I was out in the open.

The blur continued, however. I kept on running, desperate, grabbing at that one chance left to live. Clucks began to emanate from startled chickens nearby. Mooing from cows, unhappy about this midnight disturbance. The sound of an angry and bewildered dog, barking madly from inside a home. The sound of gushing water, emanating from the wild river flowing some ways ahead...

Crack. My knees hit the pavement as I crashed onto the upward section of a cobbled bridge. My long-suffering legs had had enough. Life flashed before my eyes as I savored the touch of cold stone, bracing myself for being eaten by-

Wait, where are they? I rolled over, groaning and moaning with the exertion. The silvery moon looked down, high in the sky, silently mocking my pitiful fitness. I tried to raise my head. No go. My head thudded back down onto the cold stone, heavy as a rock. The moon resumed its mockery. Too spent to retort, I holstered my gun.

The whirr of those creatures had gone, the clucking had gone, the mooing had gone. All there was now was the splashing of the water, running wild below this cold stone bridge...

Wait! A bridge! My brain finally clicked back into action. Bridge - civilization - help!

Heart fluttering, I took a deep breath and tried to sit up. Failure: my legs refused to respond. "Dammit," I breathed in resignation. Tired hands pushing against the surface, I flipped my grimy self, my heaving abdomen slamming down onto the icy masonry. And then, like a slug - what I've been reduced to - I slowly squirm and inch my way up the bridge.

Even before I had reached its apex, I had become sufficiently impressed. Below me, a veritable town, more beautiful that most of the places I had been acquainted with. Thatched houses, grand trees, marble-carved fountains, a colonnaded and awe-inspiring rotunda - that must be a Town Hall or something. This can't have been built by ponies, I thought, recalling Zecora's words. No pony could-

"Halt!" A gruff voice behind me puts an end to my rumination. "Who goes there!"

Great. I sigh in defeat. I try and move my leg. It hurt bad. I couldn't possibly run any more. "I-I'm sorry, I... "

"It speaks, Captain," a smoother voice responded. "Something like 'I'm sorry', or something."

"It's not a pony, Private," the Captain replied condescendingly. "It isn't saying that."

"P-please... " I plead. Didn't Zecora say something about this being a friendly place?

"Now it's saying 'please'- " the Private remarked.

"No it isn't, Private," the Captain interjected. "Now follow protocol, or you'll be on trough duty for the next week."

I was too exhausted to respond anymore. I just closed my eyes and prepared for the inevitable.

"Sorry for this," the Private apologized. "In one... two... three... "

The sound of sparkles. My world turned black.