The clatter of hooves echoed down the endless, inky abyss of labyrinthine corridors within the cave. Despite its impressive facade, the inside seemed somehow even larger, cutting off all external light within minutes and leaving her staggering forward in the pitch-black. While she had no inclination of her destination, that invisible force—that silent voice in her mind ushered her on, whispering acrid thoughts in her ear as it guided her past turnings and distractions. She passed an oddly luminescent patch of rocks but paid it no heed; this was not her goal, she had to move on, the blinding void had more for her than simple oddities.
It felt like days had passed as she trotted on with an almost heretical fervour, but just as the first specks of doubt began to flicker in her mind, a blinding light crept around the corner of the upcoming passage. Like a demon embraced by the divine, she edged toward it with trepidation, one hoof sheltering her sensitive eyes as she pressed on, slowly acclimatising to the relatively fresh air and clouded sky-light once more. The moist, heady mould of the living forest gripped her throat, but offered a welcome reprieve from the stale, blood-like taste of the cave. Its exit was very much like the entrance, with four monolithic stone spires reaching towards the sky, but really the only thing of note in the vicinity. Trees to the left, trees to the right, trees ahead... What could she possibly hope to find this deep into a cursed wood? She craned her neck to bite the cloth sack balanced on her back, taking it in hoof to expose the slate frame within. The smiling faces of deceit renewed the acid in her veins and steeled her resolve, but even with that, which path was the way forward? The barbed tickle at the base of her skull was a wash of screaming nonsense, like a violent scribble given voice and just as useful. She was the only thing she could trust now, so what would she do? She looked down at the photograph again, this time at her decapitated body, which was holding its hoof up, pointing forward. Sure, why not.
The path ahead more or less made its own way, and she was in no position to argue with it. At first there was nothing but a corridor of trees to make sense of left and right, carpeted by endless grass and capped with a sea of cloud, but after a while landmarks began to appear along her route. She passed between a small lake and a cave that held aloft the husk of a tree, surrounded by an inexplicable graveyard of wood, as though some ancient terror had killed all life in the area. As unusual as the sight was, it bore no relevance to her journey, and she continued on, winding her way between two desolate crags and into a swamp. The mire's putrefaction was almost overwhelming, with its thick ichor clinging to her hooves with every step she took, slowing her progress down to a crawl. Forcing her way forward, she suddenly found herself knee-deep and steadily sinking, unable to free herself from the devouring, earthen maw. As the cold slime slowly pulled her down, she noticed a thick vine hanging from a branch overhead. Having few options to choose between, she reached into her polka-dot bindle and pulled out the framed photograph, flinging it as hard as she could with a twist of her neck. Spinning in a shallow arc, the carved slate managed to cleave just enough of the cord to bring it down, landing mere inches from her. With a few strained pulls of her jaw, she started to make gradual progress against gravity, pulling herself toward solid ground. As her forelegs grazed the muddy banks, she exhausted her final ounces of strength to exhume her hooves and claw her way ashore.
Lying on her back and heaving in sweat, she turned her head only to be met by those same smiling faces held within the life-saving frame as it protruded from the soft ground, jeering at her struggle. Scowling, she pushed herself up, leaning forward just in time to watch the tips of her bindle sink beneath the brown sludge, forever entombed beneath the Everfree Forest. Gummy's collar, their photo together on his first birthday party, the key to her party-cannon closet, all lost... all useless. Items can be replaced and memories are eternal as long as you are still alive, and she was, for better or worse. She stood to her hooves with a sardonic sigh, picking up the cold frame in her mouth and balancing it on her back. She would stick to the edges of the swamp for the remainder of her trek, wherever it was taking her.
After clearing an ocean of blue flowers and a particularly stubborn, twiggy bush, an unexpected sight appeared before her. There sat a small, run down, rotten little shack in the middle of the woods. It appeared to be abandoned, given its cold and lonely façade, so surely nopony would mind if she sought shelter inside. There was nothing to smile about this conclusion to her journey, but at least it was over—for now. Reaching out for the door handle, she couldn't help but recall the moment she was ejected from Ponyville, sealing her fate with one final, spiteful slam; a barrier of wood closing behind her, and not the last time.
As she stepped into the musky room, the glint of something on the floor immediately caught her eye through the heavy air. A hoof-mirror lay shattered beside the bed. It didn't seem as old as the room around it, so had somepony been here recently? A stabbing sensation pierced her temple, urging her to seek the cold comfort of the bed within. Her mind was as foggy as the dusty air around her, struggling even to recollect how she had arrived here. Perhaps a little sleep would help to make sense of things. Closing the door behind her, she trotted past a large wicker basket and climbed onto the sunken bed, placing her framed photograph on the table beside it. Rolling onto her back, she stared at the black-speckled ceiling's wooden slats, unsure if this wooden box was any safer than the forest outside. Her mind wandered back to the past—back to ponyville and those who had betrayed her. If glares had power, she would be sleeping under the stars tonight. The more she thought about them, the angrier she got, and the angrier she got, the more she hated herself, and the more she hated herself, the more she hated them for changing her. They did this to her. They made her life a living nightmare. Everything had been fine before Twilight Sparkle arrived in town. She'd had friends—lots—a good job, a warm house, a loving pet, happiness... Now she had nothing, nothing but bad memories and bitterness; sweetness turned sour. She wanted to lash out, strike them, convey her pain... but they were intangible. Ghosts of the past, or perhaps projections of the present. Surely they were still laughing at her behind her back after all this time, so far away; or perhaps they had forgotten her completely—a memory left to rot like the hut she lay in.
She turned over, facing those mocking smiles on the table, and noticed an old typewriter in the corner. The keys looked as though they had seen some use, though the ink ribbon was limp, and the only sheet of paper around hung limply off the spool, yellowed and beaten with age. Who would come to a place like this to type messages? Who was there to write messages to anymore? Perhaps the world outside this forest had all been a dream—some fevered nightmare that would fade with time, leaving her to live contently in this life devoid of others. Maybe it had all been a dream, and she had always lived alone in this hut. Anything was better than these memories of happiness that haunted her. The pain you wake with from a nightmare fades in time, but pain in the real world scars you for life. Perhaps if she wished hard enough she could wake from this nightmare, warm and loved in Sugarcube Corner, cuddling Gummy as she ate a slice of cake. No. No cake. The very thought of it turned her stomach as she lay there, despite it aching from not eating in what felt like forever. Maybe that was what the old Pinkie Pie would do, but that wasn't her anymore, not until the memories of this dream faded. For now, revenge on those ponies was the only just desert she craved.
She rolled back to face the ceiling and kicked the wall, causing a bunched-up cloth to fall back over the window and cover the room in a twilight darkness. As much as her stomach demanded attention, the exertion of her travels had drained the energy she needed to seek food. Just a short rest on this lumpy mattress would be enough, then she could go in search of mushrooms, or whatever the beasts of this forest called sustenance. At least there was a well just outside the hut, so until some pony told her otherwise, it made sense to make this her home. 'Home sweet home'...