//------------------------------//
// In The Forest 
// Story: For Forgiveness 
// by sarcastictrixie 
//------------------------------//

Rain lashed against the blue pony’s pelt as she trudged through the  Everfree Forest. Though she was exhausted, muscles aching from this  endless trek, her hooves fell with no regard to the rest of her body’s  complaints. The trees looming above were serving little shelter, and the  broken bits of bushes littering the pathway were getting tangled up in  her tail, but she had to keep going. She didn’t feel she deserved to  rest; she felt guilty about every horrible thing she’d done, and  perhaps, this was an apt punishment. She’d been exiled, despised and  distrusted by the ponies of Ponyville. Mangled by the wilderness, and  reviled by all other ponies, the destitute Trixie felt thoroughly  humiliated by the world, and she’d done it to herself.

With the  passage of time, her intended notoriety had completely fizzled out, and  all she was known for was being an obnoxious brat, a show off with no  real talent. When she thought about it, that was what she really was.  The Great And Powerful Trixie was just a poor attempt at a persona, an  endeavour to feel like she was something memorable, which then got out  of control. She had to be the best; she struggled to stomach the  alternative. Though, where had this manufactured personality gotten her?  Homeless, lonely, and injured. Even her hat and cape were gone. A few  tears mingled with the rain.

With the loss of her hat and cape,  Trixie had lost a major symbol of who she was – they were last fragments  of her persona. Rogue ponies, aware of her actions, robbed her of the  costume to flog as the ‘genuine outfit of The Sad And Outcast Trixie!’.  At least, that was how they phrased it when they gave her one last kick  in the flank before leaving. As for her cart, when she was pulling it  through Trottingham (rather quickly, as she knew she wasn’t wanted), she  got caught on the outskirts, and had it kicked into pieces before she  was driven out of town by those same ponies. At the time, she was  startled more than anything, but thinking back on those two events, her  heart was breaking.

“You’re nothing more than a fraud,” She  mumbled, remembering those words that were spat in her face. Trixie  could feel the ghosting of the hooves on her side, the sensation being  bucked rising to her flank again. It was getting too hard to carry on,  and she slumped down into the mud so hard that it forced the air out of  her lungs. She couldn’t help but cry, the tears adding to the wet of her  rain soaked cheeks. Now she’d stopped, the pain in her body began to  fully set in. Her muscles felt like fire, particularly in her  uncontrollably shaking legs from the strain put on them through days of  constant walking. It was like every inch of her skin had been stung by  wasps. A headache made itself prominent in her skull, manifesting from  the bad thoughts and the exposure to the cold. Her eyes slipped shut  from exhaustion, though she only planned it to be for a moment.

Even  though she was lying down, eyes closed, a rapid dizziness consumed her,  causing her to tense up. This convulsion caused a pain to erupt from a  large gash in her stomach, one she’d gotten from a run in with a timber  wolf a few nights before. He’d managed to catch her belly with his  teeth, and slash down both of her cutie marks when he tried to grip her.  Even the wolves were out to get her, mangling what was meant to show a  pony’s true purpose – she felt she deserved it anyway. Trixie couldn’t  let herself get carried away with her thoughts again, or subdue to her  pain – she desperately needed to find shelter. There was a genuine fear  that if she didn’t find cover, she’d soon succumb to the cold.

As  she forced herself to her hooves, she gave a weak attempt at rubbing  some of the dried blood out of her pelt, but it felt pointless. She  could barely co-ordinate herself, and realized that if she found  shelter, she could still be scented down by another wolf while she was  lying there. At least the rain would dampen her scent, if she even made  it to a spot to rest. Moving her aching legs, she started to stumble  onwards through the forest.

Trixie felt as though life treated her  badly from the beginning, though she found it pathetic to admit it.  Memories of her parents were scarce, if not nonexistent. All she could  remember was that she had a neglectful, miserable nanny who despised her  job, and had better things to do than mind a dense foal, despite being  paid well for it. Quite ungratefully, the nanny had once said she  deserved a raise for having to mind this ‘idiot filly’. Admittedly,  Trixie wasn’t naturally bright, so she’d put in as much effort as  possible to get into magic school. It felt like a waste of time – the  other ponies had a tendency to mock her for her meagre size, being a  blank flank for a long time while she was there, and for her apparent  absence of wit. Despite all the mitigating factors, she tried her best,  in the hopes she could become successful, and that her parents would  show up and congratulate her. When she graduated, no one showed up for  her.

The mare was feeling so much worse now. Her headache had  intensified tenfold, and the lacerations littering her thighs were  beginning to trickle with blood again. Fortunately, the gash in her  stomach was still intact, though it was still agonizing. Each step was a  struggle now, but fortunately, something incredible caught her eye – a  small grove in the bushes. As quickly as she could, she ducked into the  undergrowth, and collapsed into the mud. It was surprisingly dry, and  kind of warm.

As Trixie began to doze off in the shelter, her  ringing ears caught a startling sound: footsteps. Despite the muffling  of the rain, the noise seemed to echo in her dizzy skull, and the  exhaustion kept her eyes closed. She hoped that whatever it was, it  wouldn’t kill her; she felt like she was on death’s door as is. There  was, for a moment, just the patter of the rain, and then a new sound  replaced the footsteps – words. The mare had no idea what the words were  saying, or who was saying them. Before she had time to comprehend it,  she fell into unconsciousness.