Scarred Serpentine

by Metanoia

Act II, Chapter XXII

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It was dark, but not like before. The other darkness was welcoming. This one feeded on unfamiliarity.

It was like rain, something that persisted in the background, never the foremost of a pony’s thought. But if it came, it was everywhere.

Darkness surrounded him, encapsulating him in a cage. It was a place, not a thing. It was like rain in that regard too. Rain didn’t feel like an object; it was an event, something someone was in. Something that just happened.

Breathing. Feather sensed breathing, and they were his own.

He pondered whether he truly did that, for it’s as if he didn’t truly exist either. The sensation of his fragile lungs responded, making his insides feel like an old furnace’s interior, charred bits of bricks and coal stuck on random surfaces. It made him choke, and it was painful. Pain reminded him he was alive.

And more of it continued to swoop in as Feather regained cognizance. It throbbed in his body, his wings and back sore, limbs stiff and off as though they couldn’t move, his head and neck pounded by invisible phantoms.

Feather confirmed he couldn’t move by shaking a little. He attempted to move his head side-to-side. The only reward from that was a stab of agony, making him gasp out loud.

“Feather! Feather, are you awake?!”

He deeply regretted opening his eyes. Feather was met with a brightness that encapsulated his vision, burning his retinas even if he’d only kept them open for an instant. Hastily shutting his eyelids, an expression of cringe graced his strained face.

“Ugh... what...?”

“You’re awake! Oh, as Celestia is my witness, you’re awake!”

Feather shrieked as a force wrapped itself around him, making his limbs and his torso and his everything scream out in desperation to stop doing that, you’re killing me! Ragged breaths came from his muzzle as he gazed at the beholder of the force that hurriedly hugged him, his eyes shot wide open in that moment of sweet pain.

There stood River Moon, but something was different about her. She hadn’t that newfound elation she just had an instant ago. She looked back at Feather with trembling lips, as if she were about to cry.

“I... I can’t believe you woke up. I mean! I did expect you to wake up, of course; the doctor and Twilight definitely said you would be okay, but...” The blue mare looked as if she wanted to continue, wanted to say more, albeit she only placed a hoof on her snout, covering her eyes. She let out an ungraceful laugh.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know if you would ever wake up again. I didn’t know, and as the nights passed with me by your side the hope... the hope was slipping from me, slipping from me and Twilight. I...”

Only the sounds of birds remained, the washing of wind. And it seemed a rather calm moment, in retrospect. Feather laid on a plump bed with plump sheets, a bright morning sun casting earthwards saccharine light. It was like any other beautiful day.

“Hey”—Feather’s voice was rough, but he pressed on despite that—“I’m here, and I’m still alive. It’s okay.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying that to himself or to her. “It’s okay.” Maybe those were the words they both needed.

“Feather!” He turned with the best of his ability to spot Twilight under a doorway. She quickly made her way to his side, her face awash with exultation and rapt attention. “I’m so glad you’re up! How are you feeling?”

How am I feeling? His words were much kinder than his thoughts when he spilled them out. “In absolute agony, Twilight; I’m glad you asked.” Feather chuckled, self-deprecating. “But other than that, I think I’m okay.”

A wave of confusion suddenly embraced him as Feather realized he didn’t remember much of what occurred. Even if he could, he didn’t know what happened in the first place. “I’m sorry to ask, but I don’t really know what... transpired? All I remember is being put down and fading into black.”

The other two grimaced at each other, weary. Twilight took the initiative to explain. “Well, erm... you took us away from those Death Whistles and we stopped by a tree to take a little breather. We were talking, and... and all of the sudden this black panther came out from behind us and attacked you.

“You were... the doctor said that you were close to death, Feather. I was luckily able to use my magic to force the panther away from you, but the damage had sort of already been done. It got to your neck, and had it been a couple of inches nearer to your windpipe and vertebra...”

Twilight regressed into silence, for all three of them already knew the answer to that.

“She had to put you on her back to airlift you back here,” River explained softly, placing a hoof on her chest, “we tried to lift you back on the ground, but you started to bleed heavily. We were... we were only a few minutes from losing you completely.”

As their words hit him, Feather could only let out a sweet exhale, closing his eyes. For a moment, he was taken from this hospital room to that place again, a place of no pain, no sorrow. Before he even met Jade. Nothingness. Black. Peace.

But was it real? Was true pain worth it if it also came with true happiness?

“I guess there’s nothing else to say but to thank you guys for saving my skin back there.” Feather eased when he said those words. “Who knows what would’ve happened if I was alone? Thankfully you two were there with me.”

River chuckled, flabbergasted. “What are you talking about, dude? The reason we’re here in the first place is because of you. You even saved us from the Death Whistlers! Why would you thank us for saving you if it’s the most obvious thing to do in the world?”

Feather’s lips formed a small smile, but he lifted his brow as he pondered her words again. “I... Death Whistlers? I don’t understand.”

“I think it would be best to give you more rest,” Twilight interrupted politely, setting a hoof between them. “And besides, we haven’t even called the doctor yet. River Moon, could you please tell her Feather’s awake?”

She obediently nodded and crossed the doorway. Feather noted this room had that old timely feel to it with the wooden walls and the white curtains that draped all but one window, conveniently allowing sunlight to land on his face. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not.

“So, do you want me to explain the Death Whistlers to you? We can give you some more space for you to rest if that’s what you really want.”

“No, no,” Feather insisted, looking away from the unobscured window, thankfully his neck not hurting as much, “I want you to explain this now.” He realized a neck brace held his head, keeping his neck together lest it fall off its hinges.

Twilight levitated over a chair and seated by the foot of the bed, clearing her throat before she began, “Well, you know how we were surrounded by what seemed to be Death Whistles?”

Feather grimaced as he instinctively tried to nod his head, saying instead, “Ugh, yeah.”

“Well, we were talking to some of the locals and they told us that there might be an uncontacted tribe out there that uses these Death Whistles to intimidate outsiders.”

Feather took longer than he might’ve thought to process her words. “There might be a tribe out there? And they use Death Whistles?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, this forest is way more dangerous than we might have hoped. We’re not only dealing with wild animals—or Celestia forbid those jaguars—but we’re also dealing with ponies, other tribes that may or may not exist. They might not be so friendly.” She nervously patted her head, as if the Princess of Friendship was resetting her crown.

Feather thought of the ramifications. There might truly be other tribes out there that won’t reason with them, won’t reason with anycreature. It added a whole new element of complexity to this puzzle.

“I see that he is awake. How are you feeling?” It was the voice of a middle aged mare; when Feather turned his head gingerly to regard her—River Moon by her side too—the unicorn mare wore a white garment with intricate patterns on each cuff, holding a bottle of odd, green liquid.

Feather raised a hoof rather anticlimactically. “I’ve had better days, but at least I’m still alive, right?”

Her laugh was hearty at the sentiment of his dry humor. “It’s a blessing. Both life itself. And the fact that you’ve returned to it. You’re a lucky young stallion, let me tell you that; it’s not everyday that one not only gets attacked by a black panther, but lives to tell the tale.”

“To be fair, I wouldn’t want the first thing to be a daily occurrence.” River Moon slapped a hoof on her mouth and whispered to Twilight, but Feather could hear her clearly. “This is something that happens rarely, right?”

The doctor raised a brow at her. “Big cat attacks are in general quite rare, yes. One is because they themselves are rare, and number two is because ponies don’t regularly go out into the jungle to meet with them, anyway.”

Feather almost chuckled at the cruelty of it all.

“And by the way, I should ask you if you’re feeling anything strange, Feather Dew.” The mare neared to set the bottle of liquid on the bedside table. “Any loss of breath, any dizziness?”

Feather did feel dizzy, but other than the pain that rocked his limbs, extremities, and most especially his neck, he felt nothing that strange. “My head’s a bit shaken, but I think I’m fine. It still hurts, most especially in my neck.”

“Sure. You will need to rest here for a week to ten days.”

His eyes almost popped out of their sockets as Feather gawked at the mare. “A week to ten days...?! That’s way too long; we’re gonna have to find her and all and I can’t just lay around doing nothing!”

“Find who?” The doctor frowned, perplexed.

Feather slapped himself internally for the slip of his tongue. “Nothing, I’m just saying things right now. Ahem.”

The doctor seemed to ignore his little lapse of judgement and levitated the bottle from the table, opening it, saying to him as she motioned, “As for the pain, this will help alleviate it. Open your mouth.”

Feather had to awkwardly position his neck in such a way that it was almost perpendicular to the ground, sipping on the pain reliever slowly until he was finished. The liquid had a very interesting taste; he wouldn’t say the green substance was either savory or disgusting—it was just unique.

“As I said, it will take time for you to recover, young one. Just know that you need to rest. You have a saying, don’t you?”

She stroked her chin, remembering. “‘Live today, fight tomorrow.’” The doctor smiled, regarding the other mares in the room by nodding. “And you live today, so be thankful for that. I shall leave you all be for now. Call me if you need anything.”

With grateful thanks to the doctor, Feather and the two glanced amongst themselves in the atmosphere anew created by the lack of the older mare’s presence. Feather decided to break the silence as their unfinished conversation returned to him.

“Twilight, you were saying there might be some tribe out there that may be hostile?”

She nodded. “Yes. River and I have been talking about it over the past few days.”

“Wait, the past few days?” Feather might’ve been here longer than he thought. “How long was I out?”

It was not comforting to see the two fidget in their places, although River seemed to be the braver one. “Well... you were out for three days, Feather.”

Huh. “Three days, you say? I... didn’t expect time to fly by that fast.”

“What do you mean?” Twilight’s curious expression turned morbid as an epiphany hit her. “You weren’t conscious, were you...?”

He jumped slightly at the thought. “No, no! I definitely wasn’t conscious. I just... I saw some things while I was out. I was taken somewhere else, so to say.”

“Is it one of those ‘walking to the light at the end of the tunnel’ kinds of things?” River seemed curious about the subject.

Feather let out a simple breath as a response. “Well, yes, it was kinda like that.”

Twilight and River glanced at each other before returning him their attention. “Can you tell us what you saw?”

Feather smiled. In a lonely moment, he was once again transported to that place. The details were both distinct yet vague in some unexplainable way, though he did most definitely remember the end. Touch, he remembered touch, that feeling of completeness this life would never know if he didn’t get to save her.

“No. It’s personal stuff... It’s only for me.”

River gently nodded; Twilight looked back at him with an understanding smile. “I see. River, why don’t we let Feather rest for a moment; we can have this conversation some other time.”

“I agree. Do you want us to bring back anything?”

Feather cringed once again as he instinctively moved his head. “Well, there is one thing.”

After telling them what he requested, his friends gave him consoling farewells and departed. Feather was then left alone with the world, and despite him being in this isolated room, he felt anything but: fresh air in his lungs, the songs of birds, damp scents of a rainforest too mysterious for even his ghost-self to figure out.

Feather glanced out that one undraped window, that previous ray of sunlight now migrating to a spot on his side. What stared back was green verdure and the brown of twigs and branches, and though they seemed like the same, old boring green verdure and brown of twigs and branches, a force reached him from the shadows between their gaps. Foreign. A stranger.

It grasped him, like the mighty crush of a black panther’s jaws. It didn’t bring him back, but it struck a primal emotion in his soul. It was horrifying, yet he didn’t scream or move an inch.

Would nature truly do this to him, leave him scarred and broken but still alive? And so he did what living things did, breathe, and he did too what things that saw themselves more than what they were do. Feather silently wept, and no soul heard.

...the wind blew to the east, heralding the rise of an unknowable sun. To her, she was reminded that it was the last thing she saw before her sacrifice, the blooming of a new day.

The mare came forth to meet her psychopomp, the god of fire and lightning. He was a stallion which had the head of a dog, the guidance of the dead and departed throughout their sojourns in the levels of the challenging underworld.

The two left to start their adventure across the nine levels to reach the king and queen of the dead to grant the mare’s soul eternal peace.

The first level consisted of a mighty river which could only be crossed with the help of a bird, its white feathers the only thing seen in the darkness.

The second level consisted of a temple where the hills of the entire world met; one had to be patient to pass the rolling landscape.

The third level was a path of obsidian as large as the heavens itself, taking years to cross.

The fourth level was a place full of ice and snow, all the souls traversing through here struck by the saddest memories of their lifetimes. One had to make it to the end to let go of these memories.

The fifth level had winds so strong that not even the strongest of pegasi could overcome them; all souls here were whisked away.

The sixth level had souls dodge bolts of magic from an invisible unicorn spirit, each bolt representing a person who had an influence in the life of the departed.

The seventh level contained a jaguar that took away the hearts of all souls, for any worldly possessions the departed still held needed to be abandoned.

The eight level was a place where souls could see the lives they lived before. They would see their memories pass in preparation for the final level.

The ninth and last level was where the departed finally met the king and queen of the underworld, and it was here that souls would finally be granted their eternal peace.

Before the mare moved on, she asked her psychopomp if she would ever see him again. The psychopomp replied:

“You have always known me. I am found in the most unexpected of places, the result of seemingly unbridged consequences. Whenever you see an act of kindness or even a simple breeze of the wind, I am there. Know that things are more intertwined than they might seem.”

“How are you enjoying it, Feather?”

He lowered the book to meet Twilight’s eyes, the alicorn nibbling on some tacos she purchased moments ago.

Feather only needed a short instant to think of an answer. “It’s okay enough; this is the kind of thing I wanted to read, anyway. How these people view the afterlife is very interesting, you know.”

Feather wasn’t allowed to regress into the silence he wanted, for the purple mare interrupted, weary in her expression, “You’re not... you’re not looking into this because you’re afraid of it, are you?”

“Well,” he stated, “I don’t fear that. Death is an odd thing to fear. It’s a little foolish, isn’t it? What I am scared of is other things.”

“Like what?”

Feather sighed. “I don’t... I’m not sure if I want to, you know. It’s a strange thing.” He glanced outside to where the night blanketed all, only oases of lamp posts harboring most light. And the stars too revealed themselves, but only dimly. Too far away. Unreachable to most, and those that could ought be radiant deities.

“I know how much that means to you,” Twilight whispered. Feather didn’t turn to regard her. “I see it every time you look out there. Rainbow Dash herself has told me even when you were little you liked doing that.”

Feather pressed his lips, snuffing out bad memories.

“It’s hard to accept, but quite easy to understand,” she continued, and her voice slightly wavered. “Things sometimes aren’t what they seem, huh?”

“Yes.” A pause. “I know that. I know nature’s unpredictable.” The stars answered neither of them, and they didn’t twinkle. “Why do I care about it so much?” He faced her, eyes boring deep into hers, a longing deeper still set inside him. “It’s just little things.”

“I’d rather you say that than not take things for granted,” Twilight replied.

“What does that mean?”

“You know,” she answered quickly. “You know what I mean.”

Feather pondered her words. That was unlike Twilight at all, to say something as vague as that. I already know what that means. To take things for granted, or to not take things for granted.

“You appreciate things,” she said. “That’s a beautiful thing. And they may not be real, and they may not even matter, but it’s important to you. Isn’t that enough of an answer as to why it means anything? Because you just do?”

An amused exhale escaped from his nostrils. “I suppose it does. I... my mind’s still muddy. And even if it weren’t, I just don’t know what to make of all of this.”

Twilight proffered a helping smile. “That’s okay. There are things that take time, and others won’t be fully understood. Don’t beat yourself over that, okay?”

Feather couldn’t help but smile back. Sincerely. “Okay.”

He leaned back as best he could and eased. “I still like it, though.”

When Twilight didn’t reply, Feather continued, “I still like it. I like the wind in my mane, the blue of the sky. That’s the dream of most, right? A dream of flying. Quiet times. Although a part of me knows that it’s not all cupcakes and rainbows. Reality differs from us sometimes. Perhaps that’s the reason ponies praise gods and the forces of nature, not because they’re whimsical or brutal, but because they’re both.”

Twilight returned a smile of her own, a smile more understanding and genuine than it was happy.

“Yo, I’m back. I got the popcorn you wanted, Feather. Caramel, right?” Through the doorway entered River Moon, holding a batch of popcorn on one hoof and balancing some drinks and empanadas on her back.

“Yes, that’s right. Thanks, by the way.” She placed all the food items on his bedside as he regarded her, “This is going to be tough to eat, though.”

River sneered as she took a chair and sat abreast him. “I can spoon feed you like the ambitious child you are; it’d be hilarious.”

“River Moon! Don’t joke around with Feather like that!” Twilight shot her that infamous glare.

“Relax, Twi. It’s fine. I’m just glad we’re all here.”

“Yeah, listen to him, Twi. You know, this is going to sound super random, but I had an interesting conversation with the local... how should I put this lightly... the old crazy guy of town while lining up to get Feather’s popcorn.”

Twilight and Feather glanced at each other curiously. “The old crazy guy of town?” Feather inquired. “What did he tell you?”

River sighed, looking as if she's about to elaborate another rabbit hole of hers. “Well, he lambasted me for running around in the woods and getting you hurt, which I kind of understand—you seem to be the talk of the town—don’t get me wrong, but he also said something about how the Death Whistlers weren’t even... real in a sense.”

Feather stopped reaching for his popcorn, ignoring her claims that they were the talk of the town and focusing on the latter part. “Hold on, explain how they weren’t even ‘real in a sense.’”

River grabbed her drink and took a sip, setting it down before beginning, “You know how there might be a tribe out there that uses those Death Whistles?” Feather and Twilight nodded. “He told me that... he once talked to this tribe when he was younger,” she elaborated slowly, “and when he asked if they were the ones who did the whistling, they said they had no idea what it was; they were just as confused as the La Orillans.”

Feather’s gears in his head churned and jammed. “Wait. He talked to a tribe that said even they don’t know where the whistling came from?”

River Moon nodded. “Correct. He also stated that this tribe lives deep in the jungle; as in they have explored every single little crevice there is and they have absolutely zero clue who or what causes those whistles.”

How did that make any sense? There was a tribe out there that supposedly knew all the little nooks and crannies there was, and even they didn’t know where the whistling came from? How was that possible? It’s as if there’s some barrier blocking them from-

His heart stopped.

“Hold on. Hold on,” he put his hooves on his face. “Twilight, would you say that these whistlings are magical in nature?”

She gave a meek shrug. “I would infer that they are. We didn’t see anypony or anything, and it’s as if those whistles came out of nowhere. That certainly isn’t normal behavior at all.”

River nodded. “Yeah, it’s like they only exist to be a huge annoyance so ponies would go away.”

The jammed cogs and springs of his brain shattered into a million pieces, yet it’s as if these fragments were the very pieces that fell into place to complete this unsolvable jigsaw.

...I am found in the most unexpected of places, the result of seemingly unbridged consequences... Know that things are more intertwined than they might seem...

...exist to be a huge annoyance so ponies would go away...

...a secret code... secret knowledge...

The barrier.

Feather laughed, yet it remained soft and controlled. He wheeled his head back as he placed a hoof on his temple, chuckling still, and despite a pain throbbing from his neck and back, he could not care.

Had Feather been a little more tumultuous, one would’ve assumed he was a madman, a madman who’s finally solved an unsolvable enigma. Detached from reality. But complete for the first time. His chuckle grew louder, and he felt truly alive.

“Feather, what’s wrong?” Twilight retracted her hoof and glanced at River as he let out an exhale and only smiled.

“Can’t you see?” Feather waved his two hooves and put them together. “It’s all connected. A ‘barrier’ around Tlekokalli? The tribe here not being able to find any sort of physical evidence of the Death Whistlers? The fact that it’s seemingly only purpose is to ‘annoy ponies for them to go away?’ Those Death Whistles are the barrier!”

Twilight Sparkle and River Moon stared wide-eyed at each other, as if they’d just discovered fire for the first time. “That’s”—River stuttered—“That’s how one can pass it through ‘secret knowledge.’”

“The secret knowledge isn’t a code or a password,” Twilight realized. “It’s the fact that... it’s the secret that one can... follow those whistles to eventually reach the lost city.”

“And it makes sense,” Feather continued, “because for strangers like us, we wouldn’t know. We would see it as a threat and try to run away to safety; exactly like we did. The whistles even started with only one, quietly, progressively increasing in numbers and volume the longer we lingered, further prompting us to flee. But if somepony knew that following them was the key to eventually finding Tlekokalli...”

They were right there. They were that close. At that moment in the darkened rainforest he was taken to once more, covering his ears from the penetrating shrieks of the Death Whistles, not realizing it was their ticket to reach Tlekokalli.

“What do we do now?” River seemed meek despite the development, setting a hoof on her temple.

Feather was steady as he looked back at the two and said, “Isn’t it obvious? One way or the other, we’re going to have to follow those whistles.”

Author's Note:

The end of Act II is nearing! Act III won't be as long, though it's—in my mind—the most interesting of the two. The next chapter will be the last for this Act, and the chapter after that may be the longest out of the ones published so far (I might split them, though). I've been working to reduce word count, because I admittedly have a tendency to add unnecessary details while writing