//------------------------------//
// Chapter 3 
// Story: Recipe For Disaster 
// by fluttershywriter 
//------------------------------//

Five minutes after Pound Cake set hoof into the Everfree Forest, he began to doubt his choice.
His mother and father would be wondering where he was. Pinkie would be wondering where he was. Maybe even Pumpkin would worry that he was dead. Besides, he was starting to get hungry. What was he supposed to eat, poison joke? And where would he sleep? He had been expecting to find his cutie mark within a day, but so far nothing Equestria-shattering had occurred. Besides, the blood was drying on his face and his mother hated it whenever he got his coat dirty. White coats took forever to wash out.
Pound sighed and rolled his eyes, turning around and searching for the path that he had begun on. He was startled to see that there were at least twenty different paths, each winding in different directions. He glanced overhead to see if there was any way he could fly out of the forest, but the branches were so tightly wound together that he could barely see any sunlight.
"Great," he huffed, plopping down on the ground and tracing circles in the dirt with a shaky hoof. "Horseapples," he grumbled, hoping that cursing would make him feel tougher. "Horseapples. I'm totally lost and nopony has any idea where I am. This was stupid." Then, blushing—talking to himself made him feel stupid, even if there was nopony else around—he hovered a few inches off of the ground and drifted further down the path. Maybe, he thought, This is one of those paths that loops back to the start. It makes sense. I'm sure that by sunset, I'll be back in Sugarcube Corner, just like always.


It seemed to Pound Cake that Celestia was lowering the sun at an unnecessarily fast rate.
He had spent all day flying around trees and moving so much that his legs and wings ached, and yet he wasn't any closer to home than he was at the beginning of the day. Spending a night in the woods had seemed like it was impossible, but Pound was beginning to see that it was now a very real possibility.
"Hello?" he said aloud, as if another pony was having a campout in the woods. "Can somebody help me?" He kept his voice just above a regular speaking voice, terrified that if he spoke any louder, a manticore would come out and tear him limb from limb.
He racked his brain for every fact he had ever learned about camping and wildlife. Timber wolves only howl a certain time of year . . . well, that wasn't going to help him much. Most sea monsters are actually very friendly . . . well, there weren't any sea monsters in sight. Wear all the clothes you have and bundle up in blankets if you're lost . . . that was actually useful, but he didn't have any clothes or blankets with him. 
Whimpering, he curled up in a ball. He flinched when he heard the snapping of a twig. Was that a squirrel or an Ursa Major? A rescuer or a timber wolf?
"Hello?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Is anypony out there?"
There was silence for a few endless seconds before her heard crackling leaves. Pound's pulse quickened. That was no squirrel. The sound of leaves being stepped on was heavy and rhythmic, accompanied by an odd bouncing noise. What was it? Some odd creature made of rubber? Something that nopony even knew about because everypony who studied it got eaten?
"I have a knife!" he lied hoarsely, attempting to shout. It was useless, he knew—no creature in the Everfree spoke  Equestrian, obviously.
Yet another pause. Pound curled up on the ground and covered his head. Now if it attacked it might rip off his wings, but he'd be able to save his eyes and face.
"Poundy?" asked a familiar voice. "You're not supposed to use knives outside of the kitchen.
Pound slowly moved his hooves away from his face. "P-Pinkie?" he stuttered, blinking and trying to adjust to the darkness. He could see the faint outline of a pony.
"Of course it's me, you silly filly!" giggled Pinkie. Pound felt her hooves wrap him in a hug. He was so relieved that he didn't begin to deal with the logic of the situation for several seconds afterwards.
"Silly—huh? Pinkie, I'm not a filly!" There was no answer from the pink pony aside from a giggle. He sighed and moved onto the more important questions. "How'd you know that I was in the Everfree? And how the hay did you find me? I've been walking all over the place."
She giggled. "Simple, Poundy—my Pinkie sense! Ear flopple double eye twitch wobbly hoof means that a foal is running away into the Everfree Forest, and I figured it out from there!" She waved a hoof absently, as if this was a completely normal occurence. Pound Cake often argued with the logic of her Pinkie Sense, but he decided that there were more pressing matters.
"So if you found your way here, could you find your way back? Like, right now?" Pound asked, growing excited. "I haven't had a bite to eat all day, and I'm really thirsty."
"Ooh! I have food and water!" she said brightly—a bit too brightly, in Pound Cake's opinion. He saw a dim outline of Pinkie rummaging in her saddlebags and pulling out a cupcake and some water. "Here! I'm sure you'll feel a lot better after this. I brought a whole batch of cupcakes! They're a new recipe!"
"Um, thanks," said Pound suspiciously, inhaling the cupcake and gulping down the water. It hadn't gone unnoticed that she hadn't answered his question. "So, Pinkie, about finding our way back tonight—"
She groaned suddenly, facehoofing. "I won't be able to find our way back, tonight or tomorrow or a million years from now!" She paused to consider something. "Actually, I don't know if I'll be able to find my way back a million years from now, because I won't be alive then and maybe there'll be advances in pony technology that can find lost ponies. Well, no, there will—"
"Pinkie!" shouted Pound Cake, losing patience. He was growing colder and he could use another cupcake, not that he wanted to break Pinkie's concentration even more than it had already broken.
"Right. Sorry." She started talking even faster than usual. "See, my Pinkie Sense helped me find you, but it appears to have worn off. My Pinkie Sense doesn't help me navigate new territories. I'm no more useful in getting out of this mess than you are."
"Oh."
Oh.
It took several moments for Pound to comprehend what Pinkie was saying. When he was pretty sure he got it, his hooves began to shake. He sat down, feeling all the blood rush from his head. "So, you're saying that . . . that . . . we might be lost forever? Is that it?"
Thought Pound Cake couldn't make out Pinkie's expression completely, he was pretty sure that she was uneasy. "Not forever, Poundy. I'm sure that we'll be able to find our way out of this forest in . . . a few days? A week or two?" She shrugged. "I tell you, Poundy, I know this forest like t he back of my hoof. Or at least I used to. It's changed in the last few years, and I haven't gone into the forest since a few years after you were born. I started having more responsibilities then."
"But we can't live on cupcakes and whatever water you have in there for two weeks!" cried Pound Cake, feeling his stomach twist. "And Mom and Dad and Pumpkin must be going crazy with worry."
Pinkie waved a hoof. "Oh, don't worry—I left them a note telling them where we were going to be for a while."
Pound blinked. "But, Pinkie, the point is that we're in the Everfree Forest. Knowing where we are might actually make them a lot more panicked."
For a moment, Pinkie looked desperately sad. "Well, of course they're going to be panicked, but what was I supposed to do? Just leave you in here? I figured that you must be terrified, and it's always better to have a partner when you're lost in the woods. The more, the merrier!" She stuck her nose in her saddlebags again and pulled out a blanket. "Now come on, Poundy, you must be exhausted. You sleep, and I'll stand guard."
Pound tried to argue, but he found that he was incredibly tired. He curled up on the ground and let Pinkie spread the blanket over him. For a moment, he was reminded of being a tiny foal, when Pinkie would tuck him in every night. After several minutes, he was asleep.



Pound Cake's first thought when he woke up was that ever inch of him ached. His second thought was that he was in the Everfree Forest, and that there was no hope of him escaping any time soon. Wincing, he forced himself to get up. He feebly flapped his wings, which could barely move due to their near-constant use yesterday. No fast flying today.
He glanced around for Pinkie Pie—she may not have been much, but she was the only other pony with him—and found her curled up next to her saddlebags, softly snoring. So much for being a guardpony.
"Pinkie?" he asked, rummaging around in her saddlebags for water. He took a swig from the bottle as she grunted and looked around, her eyes bleary.
"Poundy? That you?" she asked. She ran a mane through her tangled mane, which quickly popped back into its usual curly state. "We still in the Everfree?"
"Yeah," he said, the hopelessness of it all sinking in. "I was hoping that, you know, maybe we could start trying to find our way home?"
She yawned and stretched. "Sure, sounds good. How'd you get to this little clearing?"
Pound froze. His head drooped miserably. "I-I forget," he whimpered sadly. "Sorry."
"It'll be more of an adventure this way!" said Pinkie, grabbing a couple of cupcakes and shoving them both into her mouth at once. Pound stared at her in disbelief before turning away and walking towards the closest trail possible. 
"I can't believe I did this," he grumbled, talking more to himself than Pinkie Pie. Pinkie, of course, chose to give her two cents.
"Why did you do it, Poundy?" she asked cheerfully, bouncing along beside him.
"I wanted to get my cutie mark," he mumbled, lowering his head in shame. "I don't know why I thought it was a good idea." He hesitated. "Well, actually . . . the thing is, I kind of really badly hurt another pony yesterday. And I thought that, you know, maybe if I got my cutie mark, I'd stop hurting other ponies. I-I know it's stupid and all, but . . ."
Pinkie stopped dead in her tracks. "Well, that's silly," she commented, cocking her head. "I'm just the same as I was before I got my cutie mark! Except now that I know what my special talent is, I know that I'm meant to make ponies happy instead of working on the rock farm!"
"But that's what I mean," continued Pound Cake, wondering why he was continuing the conversation. "You were just working on the rock farm, and then you found a way to make other ponies' lives happy. I want to do something like that."
"You make me happy," Pinkie said, flashing a bright smile at him. 
"That doesn't count," he said, turning away. Anger bubbled up inside of him—anger at himself, anger at Pinkie's insistence on making him happy, anger at their inability to escape the forest.
She giggled uncertainly. "Come on, Poundy. There's no need to get angry, right? We've got to stick together, or else we'll both be lost! At least now, we're lost together, right?"
Pound Cake felt heat rise to his cheeks. He fought down his anger at Pinkie and nodded briefly. "Okay, so where do you think we should—"
The snapping of a few sticks, followed by a cry of pain, alerted him to the fact that there was somepony—or something—else in the forest with him and Pinkie. He felt his heart begin to beat faster. "Pinkie?" he asked hesitantly. "Did you just hear that?"
She giggled and smiled. "Of course I did! But remember what I always tell you: giggle at the ghosties! They're not scary if you think that they're funny!" She took a deep breath and began to sing in her high-pitched, bubbly voice. "When I was a little filly, and the sun was going do-o-ow-ownnnn . . ."
Something large and heavy struck Pound Cake as he took an angry step towards Pinkie. He felt warm breath in his ear, a groan, and . . .
Nothing.