Cantering Death

by Scriber

Second Interlude: Trixie

Two hours before Luna’s message

“I’m sensing a recurring theme, here,” the blue unicorn muttered to herself. Darkness and shadows prevailed all around her, warping the landscape into some manner of menacing bastardization. The sun had barely set a half hour past, not that it mattered; even under a mid-day’s sun, the canopy of the Everfree Forest blocked out most, if not all light. A few pinpricks of starlight, though, managed to poked their way through the thick mass of leaves and branches overhead.

“‘Take the shortcut through the forest,’ they said! ‘It’s the fastest route from Hoofington to Ponyville,’ they said! How convenient of them to leave out the part about the unhappy manticores and the...ugh...mud!” Trixie lamented aloud to nopony in particular. Hoofington had been, overall, a bust - she had been unable to draw the crowd that she had so greatly desired. Indeed, after word of the fiasco in Ponyville a few months back circulated from town to town, the Great and Powerful Trixie was widely regarded as more of a passing oddity rather than a proper showmare. Less ponies at her shows, inevitably, led to less income (not to mention less ego); both of these aspects were shown through her rickety, second-rate used cart and her overall dejected demeanor. Trixie had planned on being out of the Everfree hours ago, but luck was not on her side that evening. A chance run-in with a mother manticore and her two cubs had sent her fleeing aimlessly through the brush, clacking cart trailing in tow: said cart may or may not have lost a wheel at some point, forcing the unicorn to retrace her frenzied fleeing path in search of the damnable thing.

Strange, muffled noises swirled around her as she struggled to haul the cart through the increasingly muddy terrain. Just what have you gotten yourself into? she asked herself.

“A rhetorical question, no doubt,” she scoffed in reply.

There you go, talking to yourself again...

“And just whom, do you suppose, should I be talking to, hmm? The throng of adoring fans in tow, waiting with bated breath for The Great and Powerful Trixie’s next fantastic feat? The wide array of gnarled and garish looking foliage? Oh, I know - perhaps the friendly lion-bat-scorpion monstrosities from earlier? They seemed ever so talkative-” She stopped in both mid-sentence and mid-step, realizing that her voice had risen from a spiteful mutter to an
angry shout.

“...this isn’t getting me anywhere,” she admitted with a sigh. She unhitched herself from the cart, taking inventory of things that would need repaired. Calling upon her magic, she levitated out a length of parchment paper and unrolled it, checking the map for a best guess of her location.

Right, she thought. You just need to get out of this stupid forest, get a good night’s rest, resupply in Ponyville and move on. No shows, no fanfare, no revenge...though it would be nice to put that insufferable Twilight Sparkle in her place. Her body hunched up instinctively at the mere mental mention of the unicorn’s name. She shook her head, quickly dismissing any wandering thoughts or inklings trying to affirm her latter-most notion. Trixie trotted to the front of the carriage, re-affixing herself to the hitch and trudging onward. She concentrated solely on the movement of her hooves - one in front of the other. Repeat. Repeat. Don’t think about Twilight Sparkle. Don’t think about the Ursa Minor. One in front of the other. Repeat.

It was like this for some time; Trixie kept her head clear, for the most part. Every now and again, a critter would scurry into the underbrush just out of sight, causing the already jumpy unicorn magician to shriek. Though Trixie was wholly unfamiliar with the inner workings of the Everfree itself, she found herself thinking more than once that the place was unnatural. After a while, though, a dull glimmer of hope through it all - the brush began to lighten. The canopy overhead seemed to thin out with every step, now allowing more than just a passing glimpse of the shimmering pale moon.

“Finally!” she cried, paying no attention to who - or what - may have heard. Just ahead, there it was; a clearing! She practically galloped toward the edge of the Everfree, exhaling a sigh of relief when she was through. Despite her recent shortcomings, despite her trepidation for returning to the very town that was the source of her failings abroad, a small, muted smile crept across her face. She breathed in deeply, looking upward to the night’s sky and relishing in the plethora of whites and blues spread throughout with the grace of an artist’s brushstroke. Now finally able to survey the landscape sans the obfuscation of thick trees and the like, she noted a small, homely-looking cottage in the distance.

Must be a nice place to live, she thought. A short, sharp breeze blew past, eliciting the slightest of shudders; it was the sort of breeze that had the faintest twinge of a chilly note to it, a wispy harbinger of the winter to come. As the chill swept over her body, she became acutely aware for the first time that evening at just how tired she was - in mind, body and spirit, The Great and Powerful Trixie was exhausted. Keen on putting a good distance between herself and that wretched forest, she trotted onward at a good clip, absentmindedly humming a soft, solemn tune to herself as she did so.

She came upon a small brook, the crisp, cool water gently cutting a swath into the rolling landscape. A sizeable Oak stood tall on the bank closest to her, and she instinctively made her way towards it. A yawn escaped her lips as she rested herself under the tree.
“To think that I’d want anything to do with another one of these so soon,” she chuckled softly. “Right, then. Just rest here for a moment, then set up camp. Get a proper night’s rest, resupply, then this town will be a distant memory.” She yawned again. “Just gonna...rest my eyes.”
------------------------------------

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

A rolling vibration coursed through the very ground, resonating with the thick earth. A powerful, powerful energy sprang into life all around, diffusing the background magical energies that lie latent throughout all of Equestria and rending them apart for a time. A line - ever so slightly curved - drew a path across the landscape, appearing from nowhere; not bothered by mere trifles such as hills and brooks, it flew through the land with lightning-like speed until it connected with itself, forming a perfect circle. As the connection was made, the line glowed a bright bluish-white with the intensity of a newborn star. Thrum. Thrum. The vibration grew and grew in frequency until the stillness of the night was split by a muffled boom that was more felt than seen, like the aftershock of a great explosion or a rolling shockwave following a massive impact. A translucent blue wall shot upward from the ground, almost as if a great, cosmic curtain were being guided by some unseen rope and pulley. The final connection was made as the great wall converged on a single point high up in the sky, drawing Ponyville and its outlying lands closed.

Trixie, having dozed off under the Oak, was harshly yanked out of her slumber. Her eyes shot open as her horn resonated with the incredible force that swirled around her. A maelstrom of magical energies was raging, invisible to the naked eye but fully revealed to the unicorn via her honed attunement to the inner workings of magic itself. She scrambled to her hooves, setting herself upright as she regarded the shimmering translucent wall of magic that had sprung to life mere meters away. Her eyes grew wide and unblinking as the silent but ever-present thrum that the Barrier of Arcane Guard radiated seeped into her very being, her ragged, thready breath shakily being drawn inward and outward.

“What...” she managed, eyeing the barrier with the highest order of incredulity. “What in the name...” she tried again, not fully noticing her hooves taking her closer and closer toward the wall. A muddled mixture of awe and incomprehension flooded her senses as she gingerly reached forward with a hoof, wanting to touch the structure, to feel the energies flowing within...

...and she found herself back under the tree. Still in the same position, foreleg stretched outward, she was back under the very same Oak from which she had been awoken not a minute prior.

Did you... she thought.

“...just teleport?!” she finished aloud. Feeling a bit dizzy, she sat down on her haunches, trying her best to keep her breathing under control. A chipmunk, clearly undeterred by the magical anomaly which lay before it, scurried past Trixie as she sat, straight toward the barrier.
“Wait!” she called out, unsure of what would happen if the critter came into contact with the barrier. Sure enough, though, the chipmunk met with the same result; just before the furry little animal made contact with the barrier, a barely visible flash of white light carried it backward several meters, whereupon it stopped in mid-scurry and lay prone on the ground, seemingly baffled. The chipmunk and the unicorn exchanged equally dumbfounded for a moment, the former’s eyes seemingly asking, Just what the ever-loving fuck was that?

“A fair question, to be sure...” Trixie answered, somewhat unaware in her current state of mind that her temporary conversant had no means of replying. “It’s...it’s a shield of some sort. Or a wall. Definitely not naturally occurring...and definitely not like anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Right, a mental voice chimed in, what with your expansive knowledge on the subject-

“-hush, you. I’ve no time for another one of our little ‘arguments’,” she chastised herself. She began to pace back and forth, making certain to keep a fair distance from the wall. “Well, it does seem to share some properties with a ward of some sort...but a ward that teleports physical objects? Not very practical. Impressive, no doubt, but not very practical at all.” She shook her head resolutely. Just as she was about to test another theory, a different energy enveloped her completely; it was unlike the wall in that it was not subtle in the slightest. It was almost as if the night itself had collapsed inward and now surrounded her in her own personal cocoon. Had her mind not been elsewhere at that very moment, she would have no doubt noticed her horn glowing as the two great external magical energies clashed with one another.

She heard a voice in her head.

This is a message to all magic-using ponies throughout Equestria. This is Princess Luna, goddess of the Moon. A terrible virus has begun to break out all across our fair kingdom...

As the message played out, she remained paralyzed. She shared the condition with tens of thousands of other unicorns throughout the land as they were made to listen to Princess Luna. Luckily for the Great and Powerful Trixie, she was quite alone at the shores of the small brook in the outskirts of Ponyville, save for the occasional nocturnal critter or three. Her widened eyes drooped a bit as the not so subtle energy of Luna’s message faded from her, and Trixie gasped as the implications of the message sent her brain into overdrive.

“Virus? Re-animates dead tissue?! Good heavens! Oh my goodness...oh, this is not good, not good at all! Am I safe here? Should I get to the center of Ponyville? Perhaps they have a plan in the event of a catastrophe such as this...no! No, I can’t I can’t show my face in Ponyville again - can I? I just wanted to hit a couple vendors bright and early, avoid a big crowd of ponies, slip in and out unnoticed and get on the road! Why? Why is this happening to me?!” she wailed, trotting back and forth frantically.

“And what a brutish telepathy spell, as well! I mean, fine, the Princess has been away for a thousand years, but surely she’s been made aware of the advances in the field of psychic magic? A full-body paralysis is a rather...inopportune side effect, I should say! But no matter. I’m fine. I’m fine, and I need...I need...”

She dashed over to her cart and began rooting around in the back, tearing through assorted boxes and crates. “No...no...not there, not there either...oh, where did I put - aha!” A soft, pink glow formed around a set of piled garments as they were whisked out of the cart with a bit of her magic. She dressed herself quickly and with little fanfare; a form-fitting, deep blue cloak hugged her midsection, thin fabric on the back end billowing outward to cover her pair of cutie marks. It was adorned with a pattern of pale white threads that matched her mane, interlaced throughout like a series of stripes that gave the ensemble a two-tone look to it. A series of six jet-black elastic bands around her tail drew the hair together into a tightly knit mass, allowing for easy movement. Her white mane, streaked with highlights of the faintest blue, she wore pulled backwards to keep the locks out of her eyes.

“There,” she said with an air of finality. “Hopefully that will keep anypony with an exceptionally sharp memory from recognizing me.”

You’re really going back, aren’t you?

“I’ve no choice in the matter,” she answered. “Conventional wisdom states that safety lies in numbers, right? Besides, should Ponyville be accosted by those monstrosities the Princess described, it would be an excellent chance to redeem myself. Just think!” She cried, her voice momentarily taking on her showmare’s demeanor. “The poor, paltry citizens of Ponyville, saved by none other than The Great and Powerful Trixie! Why, the sods would probably worship me! They’d erect a statue in my honor!” Then came a roar in the distance, haunting and absolutely inequine. “...but perhaps Trixie is getting ahead of herself.” She shuddered.

Trixie decided to leave her cart behind; it would only get in the way, and her possessions were more than likely safe on the outskirts of town. Though she did not want to admit it to herself, The Great and Powerful Trixie was terrified. Her scare earlier with the unhappy manticores had done enough to shake her, but learning of undead monster ponies potentially roaming about was the proverbial cherry on top of the screwed-up cake. As she trotted, her ears stood on full alert, picking up every minute shuffle and rustle that the night brought to her. She thought she heard a grunt and craned her neck in the direction of the sound; upon hearing nothing further, she was just about to continue onward when she again noted the cottage she had seen earlier. There did not appear to be any lights on in the home.

Hmm. If the resident or residents are not unicorns, one would do well to imagine that they are unaware of what’s happening. Perhaps you should go and inform them?

“Right,” she scoffed indignantly. “Help Ponyville. Just what has this two-bit town ever done for Trixie?”

Stop that. You know that the situation at hoof is far more dire than the petty resentment you still harbor for this town.

“...petty?!”

Petty, indeed. Come now, Trixie. Drop the showmare act for a while and be a decent pony for once. You and I both know that it’s the right thing to do.

“Ugh, fine!” she shouted, perhaps a bit louder than intended. “Why do you always have to be right, you incessant, damnable voice?”

I’m your conscience, remember? It’s my job.

“Hmph.” With a feigned reluctance, Trixie turned and started toward the cottage. She didn’t get far - a few steps, at most - before the grunt came again. Closer, this time. She froze, dropping to the ground and making as little noise as possible. Just ahead, the form of a stallion came into view.

Oh, thank Celestia! she thought. Now at least I won’t be alone. She straightened herself and was just about to call out to the stallion when a long, throaty howl sounded from his lips. Trixie was not the only thing to freeze this time: a raccoon, out and about looking for a bite to eat, stopped mid-step, paw dangling in midair as it turned to regard the stallion. In a flash, the stallion bounded toward the raccoon, paralyzed in fear. He snarled maliciously as Trixie finally noticed something very, very wrong about him - the glowing red eyes, hot little pinpricks of pure hate that were a horror to behold. The stallion made short work of the raccoon, tearing muscle from bone as the creature yowled in surprise and pain. From scattered bushes and the like, more woodland critters popped their heads up, curious as to the source of the sudden noise.

Trixie could do little more than merely watch as the stallion became a one-pony whirlwind of death, attacking anything and everything that fell into his line of sight. A squirrel was bitten clean in half. Two chipmunk heads were gone in a flash, leaving tiny twitching bodies in the wake. The stallion set upon a weasel, greedily gorging himself on its flesh and entrails as the small mammal was brutally town apart. Horrible pops and squishes mixed in with the cries of the dying; suddenly, a white rabbit willfully threw itself into the fray, deftly leaping atop the stallion in a fit of rage that would be somewhat cute in other, less grim circumstances. The rabbit scrambled onto the top of the stallion’s head, clawing at his burning red eyes, giving the wounded a chance to scurry away to the best of their ability. Trixie, meanwhile, seized the opportunity and darted into a nearby bush, trying her absolute best to keep from shaking. Through the branches, she saw the stallion shake his head violently, casting off his small, white tormentor: he snarled and started toward the dazed rabbit when the door to the cottage opened, the slightest of creaking sounds causing him to stop dead in his tracks. Trixie could only make out the most minute of details - a yellow coat, a pink mane.

“ANGEL!” the pony in the doorway cried. The rabbit came to his senses, quickly hopping toward the pony as the stallion gave chase. The pony from the cottage tried to slam the door shut just seconds after the rabbit was safely indoors, but to no avail - the stallion barged his way through, ramming the door with his skull. Trixie gasped as panicked squeals and the sounds of upended furniture escaped the open doorway. Spurred into action, she hardly noticed the form of a small, brown owl swooping downward, surveying the situation before flying back into the calm of the night. She emerged from the bush, cursing silently as one of her rear legs became ensnared in a few branches; she freed herself easily enough, but the brief moment of hindered forward progress gave her pause for thought.

What do I do? Oh, by Celestia’s mane, what do I do?! I can’t fight that thing! It tore those animals to pieces! How do I fight something like that?! What...can I use magic? I know levitation, object manipulation, cloud summoning...would any of those do me any good? Oh, that poor pony! I hope she’s ok! I’ve...I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to do something!

Against her better judgment, defying both selfish and self-preserving aspects of her mind that were screaming at her to flee, she galloped toward the cottage. The bodies of dead and dying woodland critters lay before her, and she tried her best not to gag; broken forms of mammals and birds alike were scattered about with little care. As she neared, she slowed her pace and tried to move as quickly but as silently as possible. Trixie ducked down when the reached the front of the home, then craned her neck upward to peer into the cottage itself. The inside was a mess; an upended table here, some broken chairs there. From what she assumed was the second floor, she could hear a rhythmic, dull pounding. She shuddered as her mind tried to fill in the blanks.

Maybe...maybe she’s already gone... she thought to herself. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m no hero! I-I can’t...I can’t...I can’t do this! I’m so scared! Skittish as she was, the sudden flash of white light accompanied by a sharp pop! did little to help matters. The Great and Powerful Trixie clasped her two forehooves over her mouth to stifle a scream as she ducked her head back down, shrinking against the exterior wall. Her heart had leapt right into her throat and was threatening a full-scale emergency evacuation. She sat still for a time, then gasped as she drew a lungful of air, having temporarily forgotten how to breathe. She repeated the motion; breathe in, breathe out. In, out. In and out.

There...there. Much better. Much, much better. She strained her ears to listen, and heard what sounded like a mare crying out, followed by several bodies galloping up the stairs. Trixie chanced a glance inward, and saw through the window a flash of purple tail disappearing up the stairwell. Some far corner of her mind sprang to life as the visual clicked; it did not, however, make its way into the forefront of her mind at that moment. She found herself reaching outward with her magic, a sort of testing of the waters as she mulled over the unique energies that had now been blended in with the rest.

Who could that have been...and how did they get inside without me noticing? Perhaps there’s a back door, maybe some sort of side entrance...but that energy signature! I know I’ve sensed it before...but where? And when?

With eyes furrowed in thought, a sudden series of noises emerging from the second floor jarred her out of her introspection - specifically, a roar, followed by a squish, then a thump. Cautiously, she righted herself and peeked in through the window once more. There was nopony to be seen on the main floor. Trixie shifted her weight nervously, uncertain of what action - if any - she should take.

Perhaps...perhaps that monster got them all...

And then, they emerged from the top of the stairwell - the same yellow pegasus from moments before, accompanied by that small white rabbit and...her. The mare whom had been the very source of her recent misfortunes. The mare whom she had silently sworn revenge upon, so many months ago.

“Twilight Sparkle.” she spat aloud, not caring in the slightest if anypony heard her. Her face carried the expression one might expect after one steps in something unpleasant. “What is she doing here?” The question, rhetorical in nature, of course went unanswered. Trixie made certain that she could not be seen and silently observed the scene playing out before her. The pegasus had sat down on a rather comfortable looking couch, which was one of the only pieces of furniture not destroyed from the madness which had transpired moments ago. The pegasus was clearly shaken; tears streamed down her face as she spoke, and Trixie - despite the shock of seeing her arch-nemesis - couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt for not helping. Twilight Sparkle appeared to be merely listening to the pegasus as she spoke, offering a comforting hoof here and a few kind words there. Try as she might, though The Great and Powerful Trixie was unable to make out what was being said indoors. Movement from behind the pair seated on the couch signalled the arrival of a small, purple dragon - no doubt Twilight’s assistant - and a rather woozy-looking owl. The yellow pegasus mare spoke for a few more minutes, then fell silent. Twilight Sparkle nodded her head, beginning to speak to the group. It was maddening, not knowing what she was saying, but Trixie read the expressions on their faces and tried to fill in the gaps on her own. The expression worn by the purple unicorn grew into a hardened resolve, interspersed between notes of anger and...remorse, perhaps? It was the sort of feature that was, in its very nature, undefinable. She noticed the yellow pegasus mare for what would be the last time in the next few hours, not quite looking at the purple unicorn, who appeared to be in some sort of trance. Her eyes began to glow an ambient hue - subtle at first, as if the pale clouds themselves had gently kissed her eyelids, growing into a spectacular array of lambent light beams that streamed from those glowing orbs. Trixie gasped as her horn began to hum in tandem, a not entirely unpleasant pitch resonating within her skull. A whispy, nebulous white light enshrouded all left alive inside that humble cabin - and in a flash, they were gone.

“Wha...”

Trixie was absolutely dumbfounded.

“I’m sensing a recurring theme, here.”

Comments

[Trumpetturtle]

That was pretty cool.
Trixie's intracommunication was really funny.

[Bairiko]

yay more zomponies! :D i was wondering what trixie was up to during the outbreak, but i figured she was going to get infected and attack one of the mane 6 or something, but this works better :D cant wait for more

[Minitheif]

Perhaps I've read too many shipfics, but that line about Twilight's magic resonating with Trixie's horn makes me think Twixie, despite the type of story this is.

[Shadowstep]

36884
Well there is still time for her to get infected^^

[Midnight Moon]

37049

What? It wasn't obvious already?

I do enjoy the story so far. I think I'm particularly fond of the way the characters are reacting to the crisis. PInkie I'm still in the air about. I'm not totally satisfied with her but I'll see how she develops.
Altogether I will keep reading.

I'd like it if the mane players do not die however I would like a crisis related to them. An undefinable wound or some such. I'd also like some clarification on something Luna said. She said specifically that the zombies' fluids were "lethal." I took this as indication that the infected fluids were inherently necrotic and/or otherwise poisonous and led to the likely death of anypony who came into to contact with them. That would then lead to their deaths and thus their resurrection.
Judging from the Spitfire scene however. It doesn't seem to carry the lethal properties Luna implied or the scene didn't have the same degree of ambient detail/foreshadowing that other scenes had.
If you could clarify this now or sometime in the near future, I'd appreciate it.

Also, I'll be sure to email a suggestion soon. Possibly after a few more chapters though so I better understand the characters' stances in a zombie apocolypse.
And, If you'd like another arbitrary background zombie or pony, I'll gladly submit my OC and his brother.

[Midnight Moon]

39161

Take a closer look at the comments. Other bronies already asked the same thing, and our good friend Scriber took the time to answer them. He did state that, due to the nature of the virus/curse/whatever he's going to call it, only colts get infected from the fluids, and mares can resist it unless mortally wounded.

As for the crisis bit, I beat you to the idea. Several times, in fact. Have you read the second interlude? That was my suggestion. And there are two more on the way.