A group of friends are hiking when their trip becomes a fight for survival in a world that's not their own
When Isabel's hiking trip turns into a fight for survival in an unknown land, at first everyone is excited. But as hours turn to days, it becomes a desperate struggle for survival.
Hiking through the wilderness was Isabel's dream. Every feeling, from the rustle of the leaves to the gentle breeze against her skin felt so real. So perfect. Endless trees went on forever, pointed like the mountains that broke them and divided them. Silvery snow dribbled down their surface in an inexorable tide. Far below, a lake shimmered with the light of a thousand diamonds. It was amazing despite the stygian grey clouds gathering, each one prophesying violent tempests.
Fortunately, it was only a day hike. They’d be long gone before the storms could strike them. Halfway up the mountain then back. As such their packs contained only a few energy snacks and bottles of water. Isabel carried her knife, but that was essential for any wilderness expedition. Plodding happily down the slope, she kept her eyes on the horizon, where the summer sun threatened to set. But she had a few more hours left. Walking in the dark wasn't as fun as hiking in the day.
Five of her friends were with her. Henry led the pack, with herself close behind. Aiden, Emma and Oscar followed in their own close group, while Phoebe trailed behind.
Holding the map between them, Emma and Aiden squinted at their compass.
“It says we need to head that way,” Aiden pointed down the slope, “Warnings of a steep drop to the right. We need to be careful.”
“No, we're all the way over here. The steep drop was a mile back,” Emma argued, taking the map closer to herself.
“Hey, what's the problem?” Henry grabbed their map and squinted at it, “looks like we're here.” He pointed to a third location, “With those trees over there and that rocky patch to our immediate left.”
None of them had taken this route before and they were coming down differently to how they went up. Isabel looked to her surroundings for clues, but they had just dropped beneath the treeline and could only see a handful of feet in any direction.
“Maybe we should head back?” Phoebe suggested, “to somewhere we knew for certain where we were.”
She was promptly ignored by the three bickering navigators. They never listened to Phoebe.
“Look, it's definitely this way,” Aiden began down a narrow path, barely visible. Despite avid complaints, they followed him downwards. At least it was vaguely correct, even if they ended up in the middle of a bear’s den.
Despite the certainty, two hours later they were still hopelessly lost. Phoebe advocated turning back whilst the others called for pressing onwards. Isabel kept herself neutral. She didn't like it when her friends took sides. They’d tear each other apart before they’d give in.
“Henry,” Phoebe tried, “I really think we should turn back now.”
“We’re basically home,” Aiden countered, “we just need to go that way.”
“Last time you said that we got even more lost,” Emma complained.
“Stop blaming each other!” Isabel yelled over them. Silence came for the first time that afternoon; everyone was fixed upon Isabel. “If we keep arguing nothing is going to get done. Can someone pass me the map?”
Reluctantly, Emma gave it to her. Gratefully taking it, Isabel set it down on the pine needle infested ground. “No one can agree on where we are. Can anyone agree on where we’ve been?”
There was silence, broken by a crash of thunder. Time was running out. They needed to get back before it started raining.
Before she could continue, Isabel felt the first drops of water upon her hair. “Alright, let’s stay calm and we’ll get through this. Together.”
For a moment, it looked like everyone might finally agree. Just as the storm was setting in, they might have their first chance at making it home. It was all in vain. Moments later, rain lashed down the sky and crushed them beneath its monstrous despair.
Everyone blamed each other again. Arguing threatened to turn to fighting amidst that horrid downpour. Lightning flashed across the sky, briefly turning a patch of night sky to day.
All it took was a flash. Brilliant light blinded everyone and a terrible sound ripped through their ears mercilessly.
Then everything was silent and everything was black.
Isabel shifted uncomfortably. She'd barely awoken and already she wanted respite. Everything hurt. Running unrestricted up and down her nerves, pain begged her to close her eyes again. To sleep.
She almost did.
Something nudged her. It was cold and leathery, like an animal’s nose. That didn't make sense. She didn't sleep with animals. Maybe she should open her eyes? Unbelievable pain compelled her to give up. To sleep.
Once again, she almost did.
Another gentle nudge. Groggily, she groaned in pain. Why did her body hurt so much? And why was the ground so rough? She felt she was laying on sandpaper. Did it have something to do with that flash? Firing through her nerves again, the pain begged her to stop waking. To sleep.
But she'd had enough of it.
Her eyes shot open and laying in front of her was a kind of horse. Could she even call it that? Smaller than a horse for certain, if the land around her was any indication. Bright green in colour as well, with a pale blue mane juxtaposing it. Whatever it was didn't seem too keen on sticking around. It was quick to step over her and move away. Undoubtedly it had saved her life. Without that nudge she’d have gone back to sleep. Who knew if she would have ever woken up.
Something twitched. Part of her for sure, but exactly what part she couldn't determine. It shouldn't have been there, yet that feeling had to come from somewhere. Now she felt it, it wouldn't ever go away. Strange and uncomfortable, the new part of her was scraping across that rough surface she was on. Sand, without the paper, she could now tell. She should probably get up. Then she could figure out why she was laying on jagged sand and not her bed.
But she’d never gone to bed had she. Light was the last thing she remembered. Were her friends alright? She’d have to get up to check.
Pushing up off the ground with her hands, she found herself crouched on the floor. This felt better, more natural, than before. But it wasn't natural, she had to get up properly. She pushed up with her hands and attempted to balance on two legs. It should have been easy.
It wasn't.
For some reason, the balance was completely off. Almost as quickly as she'd tried, she'd fallen onto the floor with a soft thud. At least sand didn't hurt much. She'd probably just been groggy, she'd be able to stand next time. Another thud told her she was wrong. “Okay,” she told herself, “don't panic. You got this!” Forcing herself up with everything she had, she managed to hold her balance for a few seconds, something behind her desperately flapping, before she fell back to the floor.
That wasn't working. No point in trying any more. Distant sands stretched across her vision, dividing the blue sea from the green tree. Water lapped up against it, sloshing serenely. Beside her, scattered remains were marooned like ancient driftwood. Most of it looked like broken wood, but amongst it was their undamaged hiking equipment. From the edge of the water, it was scattered like an island chain all the way to her hoof. Her hoof? That didn't make sense. She was a human. Humans didn't have hooves.
Since she was on the beach, she rushed over to the silvery blue sea to glimpse her reflection. Somehow, she knew how to walk in this form. It was a kind of instinct, something she had to have known. The thing that stared back at her wasn't herself. Her face looked like some kind of horse. Deep royal blue fur covered her completely. Purple hair created what looked like a mane. This wasn't her. Why did she look like this?
Glancing gently over the golden sand, she saw five other horse-like creatures. Judging by the scale, they were more like ponies. Like a rainbow, each had vibrant and bold colours like her own. Not all of them were the same. Three looked normal enough, but the rest had horns or wings. Was this some kind of dream?
It couldn't have been. That pain from earlier proved that much; it was gone now. Perhaps she had imagined it. Sounds filled the air and smells littered the beach more than in any dream she knew. Salt assaulted her tongue, brought in by the waves that still lapped across the sands. Rocks jutted out on one side sheltering the bay from the violent waves of the distant ocean. Being on the coast was good as long as they weren't on an island. Wind struck bitterly against her coat, reminding her of the frigid cold that engulfed them.
She shouldn't even have a coat. Or those things she could feel on her back. They must be wings, like those other ponies, making her a winged horse. A pegasus, she decided. One of the ponies was awake and hard at work waking the others. She recognised him from earlier, the one who'd woke her up. Taking action was the best thing, she decided; it would keep her mind off the strangenesses of everything.
Walking over to the pile of rubble that obscured their belongings, she dragged a bag out. It took a surprisingly large amount of effort; dragging with her teeth had to be strange despite what her instinct implied. It was kinda painful too, if you were holding enough weight. Only after she had let go did she notice the awful nothing taste of a bag strap, like stingy sour mixed with crunchy dirt. Though it tainted her tongue, she kept moving the bags.
Whatever they had packed wouldn't last them long. It was supposed to be a day hike. Who knew how long it'd be now. One of their phones was settled on the sand. Poking it with a nose wasn’t enough to get it to turn on. Using her hoof didn’t help either. But nothing was going to get that phone to work. As she picked it up, she noticed the phone was missing its back.
Something had exploded. Unfortunately, it looked totally unsalvageable. Taking out her own phone from her bag, she realised it too had suffered the same fate. Soon she was staring at a pile of exploded phones. Useless metal now.
A few of the other ponies had wandered towards her, wondering what she was doing. Jumping atop the bags, she demanded, “Who are you?” There was a mumbling of disoriented voices. Looking at each of them, surprising familiarity shone from each of them. They were her friends. Those she had gone on the hike with. Staring back at her in fear.
“Isabel?” the pony that had shaken her awake took a few steps forwards, “Can you recognise us? Do you remember us?”
“Henry,” Isabel stated without hesitation, “this doesn't make sense. We aren't supposed to be horses.” Their voices sounded the same, which meant these horses had human vocal chords. Or something capable of mimicking those sounds.
“More like ponies,” Oscar commented. Of course he wouldn't let that slide; the biologist in him probably felt insulted by her miscategorisation, “the body structure is different. Lighter frame and higher…”
Isabel ignored the remainder of his rant about equine biology. Perhaps under normal circumstances she would've humoured him. But she was all out of humour for now. Despite the original despair, comfort now filled her. She was with her friends and, being with her friends, she could achieve anything.
“Do any of you have any idea what happened?” Isabel wondered, “Or how to get back home?”
Silent, harsh, relentless silence. No one had any idea what was happening.
“Maybe it’s a hallucination?” one of them suggested, “it would have to be some powerful psychogenic effect but it’s possible.”
“Maybe we’re dead?”
“Is this some kind of trial?”
“What if we’ve been abducted by aliens?”
Isabel couldn’t take it. Everyone refusing to admit any semblance of truth. She yelled out, “Or maybe we’re actually like this!” Attention was firmly on her. WIthout realising, she had flared out her new wings above her. “Maybe we’re actually hor-ponies and we aren’t going back. I shouldn’t have asked. It doesn’t matter how we got here. We need to be safe before we can start asking that sort of question.”
Though she was no social expert, the general anger from her friends cut her. “I’m sorry,” Isabel backed down, “I’m too stressed about this whole thing aren’t I? We’ll be back home before nightfall.”
“That’s the spirit!” Henry happily remarked, “Come on guys! Let’s make the most of this adventure.” Just like Henry to make everything a game. Survival won’t be easy.
“We need to get going,” Isabel decided, “ditch everything we don’t need and start hiking up the coast. More likely we’ll find a town or something.”
“We're better off staying here,” Aiden, one of the group's earth ponies, suggested, “then we'll be more visible. If someone's looking for us we're more likely to be found.”
“If we keep moving we'll get back to civilization quicker. We can leave marks to tell them where we went,” Isabel argued, “who's to say anyone's even looking for us?”
“Someone will be looking!” Aiden snapped back, “and they'll see us if we stay here. If we keep moving we risk everything.”
Isabel's wings were fully extended and both ponies had their hooves dug deep into the sand. Neither of them were going to budge. Glaring knives at one another, each of them looked ready for another standoff.
Finally, Henry intervened. “What if we left a message? Something visible from the air. Then we could keep moving, mark out our path and be safe in the knowledge that someone could trace our path.”
This seemed to be enough compromise for the two of them, who untensed themselves and nodded. “Okay,” Aiden commanded, “let's get this wood arranged as a message. I think “Help” will work the best? Or should we go with SOS?”
“SOS will give us much larger letters,” Phoebe suggested, “we could write some instructions in the sand in case someone lands.”
“I like that idea,” Henry voiced his support and the group followed. Something about his confidence made Isabel believe him. Strength and power flowed out of his voice like the waves on the ocean shore beside them.
Moving a hundred planks of wood into the letter S was unexpectedly difficult but the morale of the team made progress inexorable. They would be rescued soon. Someone was bound to see the message and catch up.
“Isabel,” Phoebe gave her a nervous glance, “I’m scared. I know I shouldn't be but I-”
“It's ok Phoebe,” Isabel gave her a gentle nudge, “we're all scared. We just need to keep doing little things and we'll get home just fine.”
Phoebe nodded. Although she was the smallest member of the group, she certainly wasn't helpless and she dragged her fair share of planks to complete their sign. It had scarcely been finished before Isabel begged them to continue moving.
“Alright,” she declared, “sign's up. We can start moving now right?”
“Yes,” Henry agreed, “you have your knife right?”
Isabel nodded, “I'll cut an arrow every two hundred metres or so. We're not going to leave the coast so our track shouldn't be hard to follow.”
Oscar had finished mouth drawing his message and now joined the rest of them in haphazardly fastening lightened backpacks onto their backs. It took two of them to put on a backpack by balancing it just right, they could fasten it while the other stopped it falling over.
They’d probably been unconscious through the night as the sun was still high above them in the sky. That meant there would be plenty of hours left for the group before they needed to make camp.
Once they were packed, it was time to get moving. Isabel hoped they'd find something soon. For all of their sakes.
Isabel had urged the group to walk by the treeline. Forests bordered the sandy beach and their path was adorned with sticks and twigs. Walking on the sand had proven to be difficult enough that trudging through mud was better. Mud was worse as a pony; it clung to your hooves and threatened never to let go, dragging you down into an empty abyss.
Yet they kept going.
The first time Isabel stopped to make a mark in a tree with her knife was difficult. Holding a knife with your mouth gave you pretty poor dexterity and made it difficult to cut through the thick bark. Her first mark was barely a scratch and her second wasn't much better. Both were recognisably unnatural but neither were what she was really looking for.
“How long do you think it’ll be?” Emma asked idly, “I wouldn’t have expected us to find nothing for this long.”
“I don’t know,” Isabel eyed the setting sun, “but I think we need to stop and make camp for the night.” Nodded agreement came from the others. All of them were terribly tired. It was an ideal spot with a small river nearby to refill their bottles.
“Alright everyone!” Henry stepped up to lead once again, “We need three people on shelter, two people on firewood and someone on water.” There was a little chatter as people determined their roles. “I’ll do the shelter,” Henry volunteered himself, “and Oscar and Emma will help.”
“Me and Phoebe will get firewood,” Isabel quickly volunteered, not wanting to leave her friend alone.
“Works for me,” Aiden agreed, and the group quickly scattered.
As luck would have it, wood seemed abundant. It hadn’t rained for a little while, despite the ominous mud, which made fire lighting easier. “We’re looking for thin, dry twigs,” Isabel explained, “dead stuff is usually quite good.”
“Ok,” Phoebe wandered over to a bush, “like this one?”
“That one’s wet,” Isabel explained, finding a dead tree of her own, “something more like this. I need a lot of little sticks to get the fire going.”
“Lots of little sticks,” Phoebe repeated, “do you really think we’ll find anyone?”
“I have to,” Isabel smiled, “we all have to. If we believe hard enough, we’ll make it come true.”
“I suppose so,” Phoebe despondently replied, “I just. I’m worried about it all. Why did we come here? Why ponies of all creatures? And why us?”
“I understand,” Isabel offered a little reassurance, “Once we’re a little safer, we can ask those questions.”
“We’re about as safe as it’ll get,” Phoebe pessimistically replied, “I don’t know why but… I’m terrified of what’s out there. If you can be a winged horse who knows what else is out there.”
“You’re right, it is scary,” Isabel admitted, “but let’s keep thinking of this like an adventure. We’re going to get home. I promise.”
Phoebe nodded, “Yeah, just keep going.”
“Come on, we have plenty of wood now,” Isabel pointed a wing, “let’s go back.”
They had to stack wood and twigs on one another’s backs to get them back to the campsite but after a few trips they managed to transport all of it back to their firepit. Hauling over large stones with their teeth and cursing the horrid taste of sandy stone, they made a little circle for the future flames. Isabel got out her knife. It was something she was dreading. Sharp and deadly, knifework with her mouth would likely be impossible.
Using her hooves seemed sensible enough, but if she wanted to do anything on the move, she’d need to learn how to put the wings to use. It seemed to be an insurmountable task. How could she manage to move a limb she didn’t even have, let alone use it effectively enough to do safe knife work.
She had felt the muscles she needed. Wings had a kind of mobility she hardly thought possible. With intense concentration, she managed to get one of them to stay in front of her. Hardly much, but it was a start. Phoebe had gone to help Aiden but Isabel was determined to just hold the knife.
Sunlight glinted crimson red across the westward horizon and the fire had yet to be started. Shakily and scarily, Isabel held the knife with a weak cradle. She could have done better, only managing to hold the blade by wrapping her wing around it, but it was progress. Tomorrow she could get it to work properly.
Henry’s group had no better luck with the shelter. All of them knew how it needed to go together, two poles between the trees and another down the back. Nothing fancy but it would work. However, lacking hands, they were unable to perform even the simplest of lifting and carrying. Not of anything heavier than a basketball. They’d just have to hope it didn’t rain tonight.
The only people with any success seemed to be Aiden. With Phoebe’s help, they’d managed to harvest six bottles of water. All of it would need purifying but they needed the fire for that. A fire Isabel was desperately trying to construct.
Glinting off the fine blade, the light reminded her of how quickly any mistake could kill her but she was the only one who could do this. No one else could even attempt to hold a knife without sticking it half heartedly into their mouths.
She was a bit stronger with the knife in her wing as well and once she got used to it she would be able to cut proper marks into the trees that they passed. That'd help a lot.
Eventually, she managed to create her fire. Luckily one of the others had the foresight to pack some matches. Instant fire was indispensable. For a while she struggled to maintain the flames with her new body but got used to it surprisingly quickly. A lot of things came surprisingly quickly if she put in enough effort.
As soon as the fire was up, Emma chanced distracting her.
“Hey Izzy,” She jumped up behind her, startling the pegasus, “I have wings and you have wings…”
“Yes,” Isabel laughed, “we can have a go at gliding. No flying though. Even if we could get off the ground we'd burn through about a bajillion calories.”
“I found this perfect spot,” Emma rushed down the beach, “there's this rock and it's got a great spot to jump from.”
Standing resolute at the forefront of the beach was a sloped stone. Emma was right about one thing, it looked perfect for gliding practice. One side rose gently, which would make climbing it easy, while the other was steep, making it perfect to jump from.
“What do you think?” Emma asked proudly.
“It looks great, have you tried it yet?”
“No I haven't,” Emma jumped up the boulder, “but watch me. I'm going to be a natural.” She jumped off the rock.
It was a good thing that the ground was sand.
“Okay, maybe not the first time,” she admitted, picking herself up from the beach. Laughing at her friend, Isabel watched her from the sidelines.
“Oh yeah?” Emma challenged, “I wanna see you do any better.”
Taking her up on the bet, Isabel scaled the rock. Another jump. Another fall. Another face full of dirt. Both of them were rubbish fliers.
“This isn't over,” Emma chuckled, “I'm definitely going to figure out how to fly before you.”
“Bring it on,” Isabel competitively argued.
Equally as awful at soaring, the two pegasi practised into the night. Neither of them was about to let the other be the first to take to the air.
They needed three things the first time they tried: wing position, confidence and momentum. Had Oscar been with them, he would undoubtedly have told them himself. He wasn't and so the pair had to figure it out for themselves.
Confidently, Isabel raced up the rock and threw herself off the stone. By keeping her wings gently tilted, she managed to slow her fall. Soft and cool, the air passed over her feathers dancing through each of them before leaving forever. It was magical.
“Yeah!” Isabel shouted, “I got it!”
Emma was quick to mimic her results and landed unsteadily beside her. Without needing to speak, a wave of immeasurable pride passed between them. They'd done something impossible; they'd flown. Returning to camp in a wave of glory, they found the others asleep.
“We've been gone that long?” Emma asked, “It felt like half an hour.”
“I guess they've eaten,” Isabel took out a pair of granola bars and tossed one to her fellow pegasus, “eat one of those. Hopefully they're still good. We'll need to start foraging tomorrow if we don't want to starve.”
“Yeah,” Emma looked frightened by the mention of starvation, “I forget that we're going to die here.”
“Come on,” Isabel optimistically retorted, “we're not dead yet and there's plenty of chance of rescue.”
“No one's going to rescue a bunch of unexplainable horses,” Emma replied.
“Why not?”
“Would you?” She asked, “I know you think we're in some magical fantasy wonderland but what if we're not. Then no rescue is coming. We're doomed.”
“We're not doomed,” Isabel argued, “we can survive out here. Sure, it'll take a few rough nights while we figure this out but all of us are making it out alive.”
“Thanks,” Emma gave a smile, “knowing you believe makes me feel a little better.”
“Get some sleep,” Isabel plopped herself down on the grass beside their fire. In the absence of any shelter, hopes and prayers would be the only thing taking them through that night.
Despair was beginning to set in. Isabel could only hide behind her mask of optimism so long. The group was on borrowed time and the universe was about to ask for it back.
Swirling Gale was flying back from a routine patrol of Equestria’s seafront. Wind drifted between her feathers as each powerful wing flap brought her forwards. This kind of patrol was redundant. Equestria hadn't had any real enemies in a thousand years and those it had wouldn't be stopped by three pegasi. Still, Swirling Gale loved her job as guard. Nowhere else could she get paid to fly around Equestria. Deep blues and light greens twisted beneath her. Any pegasus would notice everything on the ground when flying but Swirling preferred to let them be a blur so that a single memory could capture a whole flight.
Looking forward was worse. She flew with Private Blossom and Lieutenant Drift, each wore the golden suit of armour that, in the morning sun, shone like a laser determined to burn apart her eyes.
Scanning the ground below, nothing stood out to her. Everything was ordinary. As it always was. When it did come she almost missed it. Three letters spelt out on the coast. SOS.
“Lieutenant?” Swirling called out, “I found something.”
Instantly, the two pegasi stopped and hoovered beside her.
“Yes, Private?” Drift replied, “What did you see?”
She pointed downwards with a hoof. “Right there, looks like a sign.”
“SOS?” Blossom wondered, “what kind of message is that?”
“Maybe they didn't finish? Or some of it got washed away?”
“More likely it's an acronym,” Swirling pondered, “we could go check it out?”
The Lieutenant nodded his approval and the three pegasi descended to the ground. Steep dives turned into soft landings as the pegasi expertly touched down beside the message in the sand.
“Alright everypony,” the Lieutenant ordered, “let's get the area swept. Leave no stone unturned.”
“Sir?” Swirling called out, “I've found something.”
“What is it?” Drift flapped his way over.
“Some kind of message,” Swirling reported, “awful hoofwriting but it's legible.”
“Help. Moving… something… follow the…” Drift struggled to read.
“Most of the message has been destroyed,” Blossom analysed, poking his hoof at the tideline, “what kind of idiot writes something important in sand.”
“More likely they're stressed,” Drift countered, “no one half dead could haul this much wood. Must've been a unicorn at any rate; doing something like this by hoof would take hours.”
“‘Help’ is pretty clear though,” Swirling said, “we've got to send out a search party.”
“Guys, I found something,” Blossom gestured to a pile of objects. Metal boxes made up most of it, none of it looked remotely usable.
“Looks like a bunch of junk,” Drift assessed, “leave it here with everything else. We've got to go and report this.”
With the lieutenant's order, the three pegasi leapt back into the sky, ready to report the puzzle to their princess.
Morning broke across the endless treeline. Rough and jagged, sand made for a poor bed. Isabel lay there for a second, wings sprawled out across white sands and grit rubbed into her fur. Still felt strange to call it that, though every day it seemed more and more normal. But that could wait; it had to wait.
Forcing herself out of the sand, she shook the grit from her wings. Everyone else was still asleep, though each tossed and turned like a fish out of water. Another day of hiking would begin today but Isabel was again focused on mastering her knife work.
Carving better marks meant more chances of being found. More chances of being found meant a way home. Getting home… Well that's what all of them wanted wasn’t it?
Soon, the others began to wake. Each uttering their own curses towards the quality of the rest.
“Rough night too?” Oscar asked Aiden who was lying nearby.
“Worst night ever,” Aiden complained, “hardly slept. Kept waking up all the time. Stupid sand gets everywhere.”
“Same here,” Emma groaned, “never knew sand could be so hard.”
“I'd rather lay on knives,” Aiden added, “at least their cuts you can see.”
“Same,” Henry echoed, “can't stand rough nights; a few more of these and we'll be covered in bruises.”
“Fur’ll help,” Oscar played at false optimism, “but clearly not enough. I'm not sure I could stand another of these nights.”
Isabel thought it'd stop there but it didn't. There was back and forth about pointless sleep for half an hour or more. Infuriatingly wasteful. They didn't have forever and food was already a problem.
Fortunately, water hadn't been an issue. Inspecting the supplies, Isabel found every water bottle refilled. Hopefully they'd remembered to purify it.
If they rationed there might be a day's worth of food left between them. Two energy bars would hardly replace any energy they used walking but she could survive a while without food. Even if that meant staying in one place.
Eventually her friends gave up complaining about the sleep and began to worry about breakfast.
“How much stuff do we have?” Henry asked Isabel, “what can we spare?”
“We have two energy bars per person,” Isabel reported, “I say we eat one now and another tonight. Try and find some berries or something along the way for tomorrow?”
“Sounds good,” Henry grabbed one in his mouth. Granola bars were shockingly hard to open without hands. It took tearing at the edges for a few minutes before anyone could reach the edible part inside. Another reason to get better at using her knife, she would be able to open things like this for everyone. Imagining the ends of her wings were fingers didn’t really help so she had tried developing a new way of thinking about them. They weren’t fingers. Even if they were, she was beginning to forget what that meant anyway. If she weren’t so focused on their survival, she might have enjoyed being a pegasus. Whatever she’d felt last night when she was gliding was incredible. Going home meant giving that up. Maybe she shouldn’t-
What was she thinking? Of course she couldn’t stay here. She was a human not a pony. All of them needed to get home as quickly as possible. Before whatever was clouding her judgement could make her stay.
They set off once again in search of distant civilization. Tiresome and slow, the hike was much more difficult than yesterday. None of them had eaten or slept properly and all of them were hungry and tired. Isabel managed to spur them onwards, reassuring everyone when necessary.
Phoebe was by far the most prone to fear. Most of the group had been on overnight hikes before but this was Phoebe's first time. Isabel wished it could've gone differently. Phoebe didn't deserve this.
“You holding up alright?” Isabel asked, struggling to cut a mark into the tree beside her. It had gotten easier but that didn't mean it was easy. She'd need to remember to sharpen the knife when they next made camp.
Phoebe returned a weak smile.
“Come on, talk to me,” Isabel encouraged, “the hike gets boring without talking.”
“I'm fine,” Phoebe lied, “just hungry.”
“Of course,” Isabel smiled, “the second I get home I'm going to eat everything in my cupboard.”
“Same,” she laughed. It was good to see her laugh, everyone was beginning to suffer from the general depression that seemed to haunt their efforts.
“Come on, let's catch up,” Isabel beckoned her forwards. Isabel had hardly noticed them dropping behind the others. Now they were twenty metres or so back, it seemed abundantly obvious. Quickly and a little clumsily, the pair of ponies caught up with the others.
Swirling Gale hated giving reports. Benevolent as she was, the Princess remained terrifying. A being that could raise the sun could undoubtedly obliterate her instantly. It wouldn't even be a fight.
But she shouldn't have to worry about that. Princess Celestia wasn't evil. She loved her ponies like a mother loves her daughters.
Long and deep breaths helped with keeping calm. She finally knocked.
“Yes? Who is it?” A voice called out from inside.
Swirling walked into the room and kneeled before the alicorn. She began, “Princess Celestia, I have a report from the western coast.”
“What is it? Is there any danger?” She replied in that unwavering comforting tone that made one's nerves crawl in fear.
“No,” Swirling explained, “we found a sign. Some kind of distress call.”
“Did you search the area? What did you find?”
“A message half destroyed by the waves. Asked us to follow something and to help,” Swirling reported.
“I see,” Celestia kept her permanent smile, “are there any missing person reports from the nearby towns?”
“There isn't,” Swirling said, “the sign is recent. Patrols run on a daily schedule.”
“Then we'll send out a search party,” Celestia decided, “we can't leave ponies who need help.”
Swirling nodded.
“I'll have your troop reassigned to the search and send word to Princess Twilight,” Celestia explained, her voice wavering from comforting to frightened, “I hope the ponies are alright.”
“Absolutely Princess Celestia,” Swirling turned and left.
Walking was getting old. After hours of tortuous labour the friends were exhausted. Deep, blue and inexorably unstoppable, a river rushed before them. It was perhaps thirty metres wide and the current ripped through it so powerfully it made a sound like torn paper. An impassible blockade.
“River,” Aiden reported, “no chance of crossing. Even if we were strong swimmers it would be perilous but in these bodies it’d be suicide.”
“You’re right,” Henry sighed, “anyone up for building a raft?”
“Not here,” Isabel countered, “the current is too strong. We’ll be swept out to sea before we reach the other side. If we want to cross we’ll need to go upstream.”
“Maybe we should stop,” Aiden argued, “make camp here. Find some fish and make some traps and we’d be in great shape.”
“I’m not sure that’d work,” Isabel frowned, “the truth is, none of us are survival experts and we shouldn’t act like we are. Staying here will likely mean death.”
“You said yesterday that we could survive out here,” Emma, shocked by Isabel’s change of heart, commented, “were you just saying that to make me feel better?”
“We can survive out here for a while,” Isabel clarified, “but we need to get back home. If not because of water then because of food.”
“Hunting? Traps?” Aiden proposed, “if we work together we’re sure to survive.”
“How many of you can make traps with your hooves?” Isabel asked, “how many of you can even tie a knot?”
“You can?” Phoebe suggested, “I saw that crazy wing dexterity you’ve managed. A few more days and I’m sure you could tie a knot.”
“Maybe,” Isabel sighed, “but we don’t know. The wild is terrifying and dangerous and awfully brutal.”
No one said anything for a while after that. The initial morale that had propelled the team here was fading fast. “What if we keep going for two days?” Isabel suggested, “if we find nothing we’ll consider that attempt a failure and settle down somewhere. Survive what we can?”
It took a long time to think through that proposal but Henry eventually accepted. He addressed them, “We will continue moving until tomorrow night. If we haven’t found anything we’ll stop there. All of us. By then we should have a good idea as to whether Isabel’s dexterity will be adequate for survival. Emma should try doing the same thing. We’ll need as many people to do fine work as possible. Hopefully everyone can master movement by then. We’ll be in better shape in two days than we are now.”
Nodded agreement confirmed their plan of action. The expedition would continue inland to reach a place where they could cross the river.
As they ducked beneath the trees and continued up the river, a trio of pegasi scanned the beach from the sky.
Swirling Gale was tired of searching. Moving where? Following what? They'd scanned and rescanned every inch of the beach. Even sent patrols up and down the coast. Whoever made the message had vanished. Intensely infuriating, the mystery just became more and more mysterious. She was beginning to think it was a trick. Some rowdy foals trying to waste the guard's time.
But something disturbed that theory. Firstly, the pile of burned out junk. It looked like a magical surge of some kind. Not what a group of teens would leave.
It certainly wasn't the first time a magical anomaly had struck Equestria. The system was efficient now; Princess Celestia had already shipped the metal off to Ponyville for further study.
Swirling was beginning to wish she'd never reported this. Save her all these hours in the sweltering sun. Anyone with good sense would have taken to the trees.
The trees. No one had searched them. They could provide the answers. Marching up to them, she looked for any secrets hidden in the bushes or grasses. Any kind of distress call was almost unheard of in Equestria. Ponies knew the lands around them and those with a thirst for adventure were quick to join the guard.
Except in Everfree. Distress calls were very common there.
But this wasn't Everfree. That forest didn't start for at least fifty miles. Briefly, the thought of searching for these ponies there crossed her mind and made her shudder.
Resting for a moment along a tree trunk, Swirling stared out at the forest. A nice forest. The kind she was used to seeing from above but never had the time to truly be in. Royal guard training included all sorts of survival activities. Some in forests and others in deserts but Swirling had never really appreciated the forest for what it was.
She stopped to look at it. Every bush and every tree. Not searching for hoofprints like she was trained to. Birds called above her in an incomprehensible pattern.
Then something caught her eye. Something strange. One of the trees had something scratched into it. Almost unnoticeable. It was almost a wonder she had found it at all. Walking closer, she brushed off the dirt caked onto the trunk.
Pitifully etched onto the tree were a series of lines. Kind of like an arrow, though that could just be Swirling’s imagination. At first, she thought it might be a timberwolf. They would scratch trees like this to mark territory. But this wasn't Everfree.
So it had to be something else.
“Lieutenant Drift!” She called over her commander, “I’ve got something.”
“I'm coming over,” Drift ordered, “everyone else keep looking.” He jumped into the air and flew down to her.
“Could this be what we're following?” Swirling pointed to the tree, “there's marks in this one. Deliberately cut.”
“Looks like timberwolves,” Drift dismissed it, “a pony would've cut a better mark than that.”
“But we aren't in Everfree. There aren't any timberwolves out here,” Swirling explained, “the hoofwriting was pretty bad maybe the cutting would be too?”
“Perhaps,” Drift looked slightly more convinced, “are there any more of these?”
Swirling took a glance around before adding, “not yet. But I would guess we're looking to search that way.” She pointed down the beach.
“Go look,” Drift ordered, “if you find some more let us know.”
Slowly and carefully, Swirling examined each tree. Until she found another arrow. Almost as bad as the first, it had the same look. Distinctive, once you knew what to look for. She decided she'd find another. Then Drift couldn't possibly dismiss it as coincidence. Sure enough, she found another mark. Cut slightly deeper this time, the pony making them seemed to be getting better.
Dashing back down the beach like a cheetah, Swirling Gale reached the rest of the guard.
“There's more,” Swirling repeated, “there's more of them.”
Drift turned back to her, “then you may be right. Keep following the arrows. I'll go with you.”
Swirling nodded relief away. Finally, they had something they could help these ponies with.
It was time to save their lives.
“Not another step!” Aiden complained, “we're staying here. Wait for rescue.”
Days had passed and the group had not found the end of the river. Seeming just as wide and dark as before, the currents of the endless stream of water tormented them, never giving them any chance of crossing it. Admittedly, their shelter had improved. Where before the group had sheltered under bare trees, now the group could boast a somewhat impressive den.
A long log between two trees supported a set of five branches, each with a million green leaves to protect the group from the relentless rain that threatened to batter them every day. Empty threats, thankfully. The group wasn’t ready for rain yet. But it was only a matter of time till their shelter would be beaten and bruised by brutal raindrops.
Begrudgingly, Isabel replied, “that was the deal. We’ll stay here from now on.”
“How's the wing dexterity going?” Henry asked, “think you can tie me a bowline?”
“Possibly. Where do you need it?” Isabel returned.
Henry pulled out a couple lengths of wire. He explained, “put some loops in these, then we can make them into snares.”
“Where are you going to put it?” Isabel asked, “haven’t seen so much as a run in miles.”
“Someone will find one eventually,” Henry dismissed her, trotting off to go solve some other problem. Rolling her eyes, Isabel took the wires and laid them out before her. She understood his frustration, if she hadn’t had these wings she would have envied them too. Having "hands" made her feel more useful. Though they were advantageous, the ends of her wings weren’t infinitely dexterous. She thought they were worse than fingers but she couldn't know for sure; half a week was easily long enough for memories to become distorted.
Being a pony was becoming almost normal now. Something in her mind told her that was a bad thing; the others would probably think her crazy if she admitted it. She still wanted to go back. Everyone still did, but normality was beginning to take hold.
There was too much to do. With human bodies it would be tough, but there were too many of them that couldn't do anything. Sometimes she wondered how she'd fare on her own. Not well, she decided. None of them could survive alone.
Most of the others were out looking for food, but Phoebe had stayed. Isabel hadn't eaten since that second day. It seemed like forever ago now and her stomach growled endlessly.
Maybe these traps would help. Probably not. They shouldn't really be looking at meats anyway. Plants were easier and, if they were horses, likely more nutritious. But they could survive. To stay optimistic she had to keep thinking that. Demotivation could be the thief of potential.
Or death. But that was pessimism talking again.
Phoebe seemed the worst off. Already she looked much thinner than before and she'd lost that glint of energy that once filled her eyes. But the glint left when they got here. Since they'd become ponies. Since then, she'd been terrified.
Though the trees were thick above them, Isabel could already see the ominous black of the clouds massing like an army. Whatever god had put them there had to be a malevolent one. Sleeping when wet was near impossible.
And without shelter it was cold. Really cold.
Henry came back struggling with a branch. Almost two metres in length, it dragged up the dirt behind him like a garden rake. It looked heavy and bringing it here was probably a waste of energy. Though that would depend on what it was used for.
“There,” Henry looked proud, “tie the snares to that. Loop on the top and tie it on the bottom. We'll put it up a tree or something to catch some squirrels.”
Isabel was skeptical of the idea. It felt like a waste of precious time. A squirrel wouldn't feed them for long and they'd only manage to catch one a day at the most. It would be even more pointless if the creatures they now were didn't eat meat. But the others didn't seem to care. They were all pretending nothing had happened.
“Fine,” Isabel reluctantly agreed. Arguing would be worse for everyone, “gives me something to do. What do we have in terms of plants?”
“Not much. Doesn't seem to be berry season,” Henry informed her.
Isabel recommended, “Don't look for berries. They'd probably be poisoned anyway. Try looking for dandelions and nettles. Both make great dishes when you boil them.”
“Nettles? You mean like stinging nettles? Or am I missing something?”
“Yes,” Isabel impatiently replied, “stinging nettles. Humans can eat them and we probably can too. Just try not to sting your hooves or whatever.”
“Alright,” Henry warily accepted, “we'll keep an eye out for some.”
Isabel had never actually tried stinging nettle but the few survival books she'd been fortunate enough to read had taught her it was true. They'd have to have a little faith.
Being next to a river, they were fortunate that water wasn't an issue. Even if they ate nothing, they should survive at least a month. Possibly long enough for someone to finally rescue them.
Emma's comment had weighed on her mind for some time. Being in another world sounded right, but she didn't really know if it were the case. Some things were different. Plants she'd never seen before were scattered about from time to time but she was no botanist, just a girl with a little local knowledge. For all she knew they could be a hundred miles south. It would explain the new plants at the least.
The one thing that supported her theory was the stars. It had been too cloudy to really tell on most nights but the glimpses she had seen offered nothing familiar. New stars didn't necessarily mean a new world. But it would mean a hemisphere change at the least. More reason to doubt they were still at home.
Another thing that bothered her was the electronics. Everything they'd had was destroyed by whatever brought them here. Isabel guessed that their circuits had been overloaded by energy but that conclusion didn't seem satisfying. Though sometimes conclusions weren't. Endings can be painful but the mysteries would haunt her.
Night was rapidly approaching their quaint campsite. Distant flashes of lightning streaked the sky. Phoebe was watching them too but she seemed distant. Tired. The long days with no food were getting to all of them. Phoebe the most.
As the others returned, the first drops of rain began to fall.
“We found some nettles,” Aiden happily declared, “and a few dandelions. Don't suppose we could get a fire going?”
“We could try,” Isabel muttered, “the rain might put it out if it picks up.”
“Sorry?” Emma asked. Even as they waited, the occasional drop had turned to a continuous drizzle.
“Not if this rain keeps up,” Isabel explained, “I'm not an expert fire lighter.”
“So we'll go hungry till tomorrow?” Aiden summarised.
“These things are what we make of them,” Henry interrupted to boost morale again, “we've gone days without food, what's one more night?”
A collective groan of annoyance. All of them needed food. Another night was more than another night. It might as well have been forever.
“A rough night at that,” Emma summarised, “this rain is going to kill me.”
“Get under the shelter,” Henry ordered everyone as the drizzle picked up, swirling into a torrent.
The shelter had never really been big enough for all of them to comfortably sleep beneath it. There was always a plan to expand it eventually. Never had there been enough time. Someone had always slept nearby to give the rest of them some space. Today it was different. All of them huddled under that blanket of leaves suspended above them.
It was their only hope.
Worse still, the wind was irregular. It blew water into the corners of their building so that dry space became even more limited. Only now had any of them seen the wisdom in upgrading to an A-frame that morning. Two walls was better than one. But not as good as four.
Raindrops cut at them like icy knives, bringing wave after wave of shivering cold. Cold. So cold. As more and water flooded over their flimsy leaf clad umbrella it brought with it frigidity.
Until now, the nights had been mild. Until now, the nights had been tame. Until now, none of them faced the harsh nature of the elements.
Now it was a trial by fire.
Clutching together like a family of penguins, the ponies within huddled for warmth. Fleeting warmness in a hailstorm of ice. In the centre was Phoebe and around her everyone else crowded. Shifting and squirming to bring back the spark of heat that lit the fires within.
Endless cold. For a moment, Isabel forgot she was in a temperate forest and pictured herself in an icy tundra. Rain felt like snow and puddles like ice. Fur might have saved their lives on another night. It kept them warm when it was bone dry. But once water had seeped its way in, fur became infected; it was a superweapon turned against its creators.
Fur froze to their backs as they shivered. Cold cut deep. Too deep. Glacial winds brought more deadly frost.
It kept on. Huddled closer and closer the ponies fought for their lives. Swords of heat against a mountain of cold. Doomed from the beginning. Sleep was a mere fantasy. A dangerous fantasy. Wearied, all of them hoovered on the edge of consciousness. But sleep meant death. Body temperature would drop and they would be gone by morning. Though none of them were unfortunate enough to have lost blood, all were malnourished. Malnourished souls were vulnerable and the rain knew it.
Throwing another fusillade of watery artillery strikes, the clouds refused to yield. Merciless in their unending bombardment of the survivors. Cold turned to fear. Fear turned to death.
But then it was over.
Suddenly as it had started, the dreadful downpour finished. It was over. They were alive.
“I've never been so cold before,” Aiden's teeth chattered, “we need to get a fire going. Now. Before we all freeze to death.”
Isabel was immediately on it. Lighting a fire with wet wood would've been hard. It still would be. But they had char cloth and kindling in their bags. Hopefully that could swing the balance in their favour. In the subzero temperatures, fire was their last chance.
It was slowly and sluggishly that Isabel completed that task. Every part of her wanted to go to sleep. But she knew that meant death. She wasn't going to die out here. None of them were.
Soon, flames shone with lifesaving warmth. Glinting like golden slices of heaven, that fire twinkled and shone. It was magnificent. Everyone crowded around the emerging bonfire. Everyone except Phoebe.
She lay silently where she had been earlier.
“Phoebe?” Isabel yelled out to her, “Phoebe?”
Desolate silence was all she heard. Oscar was closest to Phoebe; placing a hoof over her heart told him everything. Cold as ice. No heartbeat.
Frozen, wet and unmoving, she lay dead beneath the shelter. Damp leaves feigned protection. It was still leaking and raindrops fell on her like a grim reenactment of her demise.
The universe mocked them.
Despite knowing the deadly danger of that rain, no one had expected someone to die. They were too caught up in their adventure fantasies. Survival wasn't a fantasy, for nature was brutal. The group scrambled in vain to try and save her. Two ponies to each side, lifting her up to place beside the fire. Begging for the warmth to spread back to her body. To reignite the flames within. So that she could be saved. So that she could wake up.
But she was never going to wake up. No matter what they tried. Because she was dead and death was final.
Isabel stretched a warm wing over her cold body. It was cruel. Why did it have to be her? Isabel had promised Phoebe she'd make it out alive. Was it all for nothing? Maybe they were right. They would all die out here. With her friend, the last vestiges of optimism died.
Tears ran wet along her face, dripping off her muzzle as reminders of that awful rain. Slamming her hoof into the ground she growled, “we need to honour her. Make a grave. Do something!”
Shocked silence came as a response. They'd all been captivated by the naïve belief that survival was an adventure. Now they were seeing why it wasn't. It was as if nature wanted to punish them for pretending.
“Isabel,” Henry put a hoof on her shoulder, “it's alright. We ca-”
“Don't touch me!” She threw his hoof away, “she was frightened. Terrified. This was her first time out in the wild... Now it's her last…”
“Isabel. Let's focus ahead,” Henry said, “we need to keep ourselves alive. For her.”
“Shut up Henry,” Emma joined Isabel, “we've lost a friend. We deserve to grieve.”
Seeing he wouldn't win the battle, Henry relented, “Okay fine! Build your grave but we need to be gone by nightfall. Don't waste energy burying her.”
Gone. So that meant Henry wanted them moving again. It made sense; she didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to either. Memorialising Phoebe was necessary. She deserved it.
By the time Henry had finished, Isabel was already working. She took the leafy green branches of their shelter and laid them down on the floor. Together with a bit of imagination, they made a kind of bed for their fallen comrade. A bit of meticulous flattening later and it was perfect. Or as close to perfect as it could be. They still weren't experts in pioneering.
Isabel lifted Phoebe up with the help of Emma and they brought her over to the leaves, gently resting her body there.
They had to think for a while about how best to lie her down. Ponies couldn't position themselves quite like humans did. Eventually, Isabel decided to lay her down on her side, facing away from their doomed shelter.
Oscar and Aiden had brought flowers. Rainbows of colours, like their own bodies. Red and orange and purple and blue. Black and white and yellow and green. Every colour lined her body in flowery petals. Each petal was nudged and shaken into a perfect position by Isabel and Emma.
It helped a little; it killed the pain slightly. Yet it still throbbed like an unexploded mineshell.
Soon, she lay there in a blanket of petals, like the bed she must have missed from home. A bouquet of flowers tucked beneath her hooves gently, so as not to disturb her endless slumber. Perhaps this world had a heaven. Perhaps this world did not. Isabel had to hope there was. It was all she had left.
Once they were done they whispered their own goodbyes. A few words from each of them. Parting memories of their time together: that time they'd built rafts on the reservoir; that time they'd looked over their hometown from the mountains. That was just before they'd gotten here. Meanwhile Henry watched over them with agitation. Survival worried him. Awful silence returned.
Gone was the aspiration of surviving eternally in this place. Gone was the hope of hunting and gathering to survive. Gone was Phoebe.
Henry had kept the fire going and boiled their meagre harvest from the day prior. Downbeat but dedicated, he spared no time for deaths.
Passing out meals of agony, some happiness returned to the sombre group. Even death couldn't stop the relief of eating. Like a powerful dose of caffeine, it seemed to bring energy back to their lifeless bodies. Maybe if it hadn't rained, Phoebe would've survived with them. To eat this last meal.
But the gods were cruel.
Collecting up their bags and stamping out the fire, each passed a final gaze over their fallen friend. Staying with her was no longer an option. They needed help and they couldn't count on someone coming for them.
Isabel stared at her fallen friend. She deserved better. Flowers in the woods could've been a burial. She deserved a burial. But as much as she wanted to stay with her forever, she knew as much as Henry did that they couldn't. Lest those that survived join the ones that died. By moving quickly, they could ensure Phoebe was the only one.
Something about saying put was dissatisfying now. They'd gone days travelling without issue but the night they stayed was the night she died. It was completely irrational. Though the beliefs were based in correlation and coincidence, they still stuck.
Isabel had an idea. Curling her wing below her, she tore three feathers from it. Three dark feathers from the forefront of her wing. A little piece of her. Laying them on Phoebe's corpse felt good. She would stay with her forever. She could stay to comfort her through death. Another tear dropped down her cheeks.
But finally, they left their fallen friend and trekked back down the river.
Swirling was getting fed up with these arrows. Somehow, they'd managed to get much better without helping any more. It had taken her almost three hours to realise they hadn't crossed the river. Had she seen the sideways arrow a few hundred metres in the forest she might have guessed. Their placement was awful. At least they cut through the bark now. Otherwise she'd never have been able to follow them.
They'd gone at least ten miles now, and unfortunately, the survivors had chosen to walk up the river that lead straight to the Everfree. Hopefully they'd decide to cross the river sooner rather than later. Otherwise they'd have even more trouble to worry about.
Another of those marks. One of the ones with the line underneath it. Usually that meant they'd camped nearby. Searching for signs was easy enough; she'd been taught it in the guard. And sure enough, she could see the ruins of a fire peeking through the bushes.
As she reached it she stopped. Frozen in place by what she saw.
“Private Gale?” Lieutenant Drift asked, “is everything alright? What did you see?” Once she'd caught up she froze too, paralysed by shock and horror.
Before them lay a dead earth pony. They were too late. Someone had already died. Waves of angry self hatred boiled up within her. Had she been a day earlier would this pony be alive? How about two? She could have done more.
Except she couldn't have. Her best wasn't enough.
But there were still more to save. Flowers adorned the body, the kind that had to have been placed by someone. More ponies meant wore work but if any of them survived it would all be worth it. She just had to hope that some of them might.
Swirling placed her hoof onto the pony's cheek. Stone cold. The body had been here for a while.
Most peculiarly, three blue feathers rested upon her chest. A very strange action for a pegasus, feathers weren't worth much, but it did tell them something new about the group. They had pegasi.
Which made it even more mysterious. If they had pegasi, why hadn't one of them flown up? They would have seen exactly where they were. Or they could have flown to call help; Ponyville was many miles away but a pegasus could easily cover that in an afternoon. On foot, it would take much longer. At least three days hike for a soldier, more for these malnourished survivors. Maybe she was one of those pegasi that couldn't fly. But they were rare. It was another coincidence in a long list of coincinces.
That would have to wait for later though. Now they had the body, they needed to send it back to a town. Somewhere it could be buried properly.
Ponyville was ideal. Ponies there were already on lookout for survivors, though it was impossible anyone would ever make it that far.
Swirling wanted to stay with her, feel the death of this unknown pony she had failed to save. To respect her death. But time was ticking for the remaining ponies.
They'd leave the body here. Another guard would collect it. They needed to catch up. And fast.
Pinching starvation hovered omnipresent in the corner of her mind. Though eating was better since they'd discovered the bitter taste of nettles, they hadn't found nearly enough to go around. It made her feel sick too, the flavour was atrocious, but it was all they had. They needed those nettles.
Another camp had been built before her. Much like the ones before but bearing the vague marks of growing expertise.
How long had they been here? It felt like forever? It was another day. Another morning. Monotony merged into a single monolithic memory. Of hunger, pain and despair. It all felt so similar now. As if her whole life had been a tragedy.
They were searching for higher ground now. Somewhere they might catch the distant glow of a town or have someone else catch the distant glow of their own megre fires. Through the trees, they could see mountains far in the distance. Hopefully they wouldn't need to go that far to get a good view. A small hill would do the job. There had to be plenty of those around.
Beside her, Oscar was trying to make a knot with his hooves. It was hopeless, but he was surprisingly determined. Isabel understood, they'd all been trying to make themselves as useful as possible. But hooves couldn't tie a knot and his horn wouldn't help him like her wings.
Sparkling a ghostly blue, the rope was suddenly suspended in a blue aura. Isabel was up immediately and ready to intervene if anything went badly. It slithered through the air like a flying serpent, moving this way and that seemingly at random.
It wasn't random. Oscar seemed to control it. Looking up at his horn, she could see it shared the same glorious blue haze. It looked magical. Seeing what it did, maybe it was.
Magic. If that was possible for a unicorn… who knew what else was. A whole new avenue of possibility and danger was opened.
“Isabel?” Oscar looked terrified, “you see this too right? I'm not hallucinating?”
“I do,” Isabel was fascinated, “it's coming from your horn. Do you think it's magic?”
“I don't know,” Oscar's panic turned to mystified confusion, “it defies everything I know about science.”
He concentrated hard and the rope knotted itself. Whatever dexterity that had was infinitely better than Isabel's wings. She began to empathise with Henry's jealousy. The things they could do if they all had that power: tie knots, lift logs, maybe even lift a person over that river.
Maybe not. That would be bound to end in disaster.
“I have telekinesis!” Oscar yelled happily, “I have telekinesis! Isn't that awesome?”
"Yeah," Isabel nodded, still unsure of how to react.
"What do you think I can do with it?"
“Tie knots at the least,” Isabel said dumbfounded, “who knows what's possible.”
All the commotion had caused Emma to stir. Ever since that night in the bitter cold shelter, she'd been slow and lethargic. It was getting worse; she'd barely left bed all day.
The leading theory was sickness. Some kind of cold from the time in the frosty rain. Feed a cold. That's how the saying went. Unfortunately, they didn't have any food.
But she could still recover. She wasn't dead yet. And that meant she was bound to get better. No cuts were infected. It was probably a cold from that night. Right?
She had to get better.
But it stalled their progress again and Henry was restless. He wanted to keep going. All of them did really. The more distance between them and that fateful campsite the better. Emma wasn't going anywhere though. If any of them were abandoned they would surely die. Survival together was better than survival alone.
Sitting there waiting made Isabel feel useless. She couldn't help Emma. No antibiotic medicines or painkillers that might have eased the pain. They had only hope.
They'd need an awful lot of hope.
And hope was fading fast.
Twilight Sparkle was examining the third of the metal boxes that had been delivered to her. Stranded ponies were an oddity but Twilight hadn't seen technology like this before. Each had some kind of purpose and they were all similar enough that they must have had the same function. They were some advanced arcane device by the looks of it. But why would some random ponies have that?
The damage on them was severe, too much to allow any of it to be successfully salvaged. Any hope of reverse engineering it was a flame miles away.
Burned and blackened, these devices had been used as a magical conduit. Whether that was the intended use of the objects, without the survivors, they could not hope to know. An anomaly like that would have to be powerful. She was surprised that anything survived. Unless they were just observers of course. Like a lab experiment gone wrong. That would make more sense. But why the middle of nowhere? And why getting lost?
Picking up a report, Twilight scanned through it. Survivors… Going up the river… Feathers found… Pegasus… She'd only been keeping a token of focus on the investigation. Celestia had been more interested in the ponies but Twilight couldn't turn down a magical mystery. Though now she wondered if perhaps she should have.
A blue bolt of lightning hit her hard enough to knock her over. Initial shock was replaced by confusion as she saw the light blue pegasus’ rainbow coloured mane. One who's enterances like this were all too common.
“Rainbow Dash?” Twilight asked, “what are you doing?”
“Sorry Twi, I was working on a super awesome trick for the wonderbolts but I think I put a couple too many spins in it,” Rainbow jumped to her feet and looked over the reports with sudden interest, “what's this about… Survivors?”
“Princess stuff,” Twilight dismissed her, “I'm not that involved with it. Just reading the reports from the guard. I've been focused on these artifacts.” She tried to direct her friend towards the metal boxes in vain.
“Survivors of what?” Rainbow prodded further, returning to the survivors, “was it some kind of disaster? What happened? Was it awesome?”
Rainbow just stared expectantly at her. She couldn't dodge the question for long.
Twilight sighed, “we found a distress message on a beach almost two weeks ago. Some of the guards have been tracking them down.”
“Cool,” Rainbow Dash kept asking, “any idea who they are?”
“No we don't. We've found some feathers, so there's definitely a pegasus. The sign had to have been made by a unicorn so there's probably one of those as well. And…” she scanned through the rest of the report.
“If that pegasus is half as cool as I am, there's nothing to worry about. They'll be safe and sound before you can fly to Cloudsdale and back.”
“And an earth pony,” Twilight added, “they found her.”
“They found her? That's good right? Why do you look so sad?” Rainbow nudged her friend.
“She died Rainbow. They found her dead. And they give the rest of them a week at most.” That was just numbers though. Numbers could be wrong. Couldn't they?
“Oh,” Rainbow dropped down from her flight, “I see.”
Twilight gave an anguished growl, “why can't we find them?” She read the next report, “all identification attempts failed? Who are these ponies? No one just shows up out of nowhere. Celestia has good records dating back to Princess Luna's banishment. How have they missed them? Why aren't they found? Why can't-”
She stopped herself and took a deep breath, moving her hoof out and away from her as she did. One of many calming techniques she had tried to teach herself to use.
“Please find them…” Twilight muttered, turning back to her papers, “please…”
Taking her level, Rainbow exited the room, deflated and distraught. News of death wasn't cool.
Another sunrise greeted the weary crew. Rays of light streamed through the trees as the sky painted itself blood red.
Emma's condition was worsening. Her body was hot and she was sweating. Even if she survived this, she'd be the first to die of starvation. Sweat was a waste of energy. Energy they didn't have. Why couldn't there just be more nettles? Isabel was surprised she'd ever be glad to see them.
Oscar's magic had improved, getting stronger and more precise than it ever was before. He could lift with ease the logs that had taken them hours to get into the trees. The kind of life-saving skill they all needed. If he knew half as much about survival as he did everything else they might have had a chance out here.
But he didn't. And they didn't either.
Her mind was wandering again, as it began to when they stayed in one place too long. It went to the future. After they were rescued.
It was a scary thought not many of them had pondered. What would they do? Isabel was sure, for her part, they were in an alien world. How could they ever hope to learn how it worked? Maybe they never would. Or maybe it would be easy. But getting home seemed more and more like a distant fantasy.
Home was relative anyway. Isabel had never really felt welcomed anywhere. It was why she quit scouting seven years ago and why she left home as soon as she was eighteen. How long ago that felt now? It almost made her laugh.
Home was a distant dream to her. The wilderness was the closest she had ever gotten. Before it was life or death. And before Phoebe... Nevermind.
Now she didn't think she'd ever step foot in a forest again. Even looking at a tree might bring back the memories. But stomach growls interrupted her thoughts.
Hunger. Everything before felt more and more like a dream to that hunger. Hunger could control a pony and drag them to places they never would go on their own. Fortunately, she could still make good decisions. Or at least, she thought she could. Hunger could mess with your brain.
Emma started coughing again, which brought Isabel back to the real world. No one else could die. She wouldn't let them.
But that cough rang out like a dirge. She begged it to stop. To let her friend go. Unrelenting, each only got more and more fierce. Preemptive tears brimmed in her eyes. Losing another friend wasn't something she could take. Flooding down her muzzle and threatening to make a puddle at her feet, the tears only got more and more intense. Emotions erupted from a dormant mind.
Emma grabbed her shoulder, “Isabel. Listen. It's not your fault. Spare your tears till the water isn't precious. Please. Don't die for me; don't die because of me. You need to survive. Tell our story. Me and Phoebe both-” she was interrupted by a fit of violent coughing. Clinging to life she uttered her final words, “keep going for me. Please…”
Her grip went slack. Isabel watched as the warmth of her eyes faded. Adrenaline pushed her headfirst again. She couldn't let Emma die.
Brain reeling with a thousand possibilities, she defaulted to CPR. It had to work. It had to. Emma couldn't be dead.
Ten compressions in she heard the crack of ribs and thirty compressions further and she began to give rescue breaths. One two three, then back to compressions. But it was hopeless. CPR wouldn't cure disease. Emma hadn't died of a heart attack. She'd died of a mystery illness in an alien world.
She was gone. Another friend was gone.
And it still looked hopeless.
Standing before another dead friend was a bitter experience. One that tainted the tongue and stuck invariably to it. Never would it go back to what it once was. They were forever changed. A part of them exorcised.
Another floral ring had been constructed by the remaining members. Golden red poppies and little blue roses. By four, no longer six. No amount of tears could bring back the other two. But still they dripped down freely like waves let through a floodgate. Unstoppable torrents of water.
Three more feathers, this time placed over the head like a crown. Another little part of her would stay with Emma forever. She looked like a Queen. Queen Emma. It was fake but felt so real. As if a goddess had died before them. A second goddess.
Whispering their goodbyes, the final four set off again. Again to the depths of that dark forest. Again to certain death with a dash of survival.
The expedition found their second body. Seeing the bright green wings, Swirling Gale assumed the worst. Another death.
She was right to do so. Her fears were realised again in twisted justice.
Laying before her was the second casualty of the mission. Death was rare in Equestria. Since Celestia had ruled, wars and preventable death had plummeted. Two deaths was practically a disaster. Only a guard could take it without breaking. They were trained for it.
But Swirling feared for the lost civilians. Surviving with the guilt of death on their shoulders. It would be hard.
Another triplet of blue feathers lay upon this body. Their mystery pegasus lived. Some reassurance in treacherous misery. Marks still adorned trees but they were still just as difficult to follow. The guard wouldn't catch them if they kept moving. But from the evidence of the camp, they were only a day or two behind. If they just stopped, if they could just wait a little longer, the weeks of tracking would be over.
Swirling chewed on a sandwich. She hated being out here. Must be a thousand times worse without the constant resupplies they received. Tracking ghosts across a wilderness was tough work but it wasn't as tough as being the ghosts.
Something about that cerulean pegasus intrigued her. The decisions she made were… quite frankly awful. Feathers for the dead? Every pegasus knew the dead deserved better than mere feathers. Wasn't that why she had the flowers there?
It would have been funny if not for the circumstances.
Being on assignment was never fun, but the thirst for adventure ran deep in the guard. Something exhilarating pushed her onwards. A kind of bittersweet satisfaction as each moment in the story became more and more clear. She knew it was silly, just some foalish drive. But it felt good to save people. Good to find their stories. Good to remember them.
Maybe that's what her life was all about.
Isabel stared up at the rockface. Towering over them like a rocky mousetrap, it screamed of danger. Cold and silent, the rocks stood firmly in their path.
“No way are we climbing that,” Isabel rejected Henry's proposal, “are you guys crazy?”
“Come on Izzy,” Henry's poisoned voice encouraged her, “everyone else is coming. You come with us or you get left behind.”
“Just look at it,” Isabel complained, “hooves aren't going to grab that.”
“It’s about seven metres. I don't know why you're complaining,” Aiden hissed, “you're the one with wings. Just fly your way up.”
“Not a chance,” Isabel declared as an ultimatum, “someone's going to be hurt.”
“We need to get to higher ground.”
“Then we find a way around!” Isabel begged, “please. Don't do this!”
But Henry was already climbing. No amount of complaining would stop him. Aiden followed just behind him, taking all the same hoofholds he did.
Surprisingly, they seemed to make it up. Thankfully, the wall wasn't quite vertical. Stretching up at a slight angle was about the only good thing about it. And it was dry, the hot sun had taken care of that for them.
But it was a huge risk. If any of them fell they'd be in incredible danger. Even if they survived the drop.
With a huge sigh, Isabel put her hoof on the wall. This was a mistake but so too would staying behind be. Perhaps the rock was better than the hard place.
Shakily, she launched her second hind hoof onto the rock. Now completely at the mercy of the climb, fear leapt into her throat. But taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax. She was practically a bird. She wouldn't fall. She'd be fine. Hoof forward. A few more deep breaths. Another hoof forwards. Calm thoughts. A little further. Soon, she'd scaled almost a metre. A seventh of the way. The remainder taunted her with malicious eyes.
Henry had reached the top now and offered Aiden a hoof for the final leg. Grabbing things with hooves wasn't easy, but Aiden and Henry had found it quite easy to lift remarkable weights. Perhaps it was some magical super strength. The same way Oscar could use telekinesis.
Oscar had just begun his climb. Coming in last, he had the benefit of knowing all the do’s and don'ts. Which holds were firm and which would crumble at the slightest touch. But that wouldn't stop either of them making mistakes.
A firm tree root was a bad hoofhold, Isabel found out seconds later. Luckily, she'd tested it before putting all her weight upon it. The poor thing was uprooted in an instant. Another hoof forwards. Both of the remaining climbers were high now. Aiden had been lifted to safety and Isabel begged to be with him. All she needed to do was get two more metres. She'd done most of it. Two more shouldn't have hurt. One metre.
Crunch.
An ear splitting scream rocked out from below her. Overpowered by the crash from even further downwards. Isabel glanced down.
And instantly regretted it.
She should have seen Oscar's horned head, threatening to poke her if she didn't speed up. Instead she saw no one. Oscar had fallen.
She almost let go then. Almost joined Oscar. Fell down an insurmountable cliff. But she didn't. Painful hoof after painful hoof scaled the rockface. Fear cut her deep and strangled her. Begging for forgiveness meant nothing. Forgiveness was a lie. Only pain meant anything.
Then she felt the hard grip of Henry and she was up. Safe in the sanctuary of solid ground. Away from that treacherous wall.
But Oscar hadn't been so lucky. He was still down there. With no one to help him. And a whole host of injuries at the least. At worst...
Isabel didn't want to even consider that.
A yell brought back a slither of hope. He was still alive. He could be saved. Maybe even join them up at the top of that cliff.
Except he couldn't. All of them knew it. Any hope of scaling that cliff had gone when he had fallen. Fear would kill him next time. Even if he hadn't broken any bones.
“I'm alright guys,” he yelled up at them, “I'm not dead. I'll wait here for rescue. My leg… it hurts. If not broken it's probably fractured. I… I'll make it. Keep going without me. Please.”
He wasn't dead. He had hope. Maybe whoever was hunting them could help him. Or maybe they didn't exist. Isabel could only hope.
It was outside of their control now. It had been a stupid decision to climb. One that could cost Oscar's life. None of them could get down. And if there wasn't anyone to help him...
Oscar could easily die.
But for better or for worse, Oscar was on his own.
Isabel dropped him his final gift. Another three navy feathers.
It elicited a yell of complaint, “I'm not dead yet Isabel.”
“It's a parting gift,” Isabel deflected, “I want those back. You better not disappoint me.”
“I won't,” Oscar promised, “an order of three feathers to go. We'll meet again soon.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
A hundred miles. Swirling cursed the resilience of these ponies. Who walked a hundred miles half dead without so much as a break. They were almost at Everfree now. Just a mile north.
If they were still alive, Everfree would surely kill them. Timberwolves wouldn't spare survivors. And stranger things than Timberwolves lived in that forest.
Movement.
Movement meant life. Was someone still there?
Hope filled Swirling's tired body. Were these the survivors? Had her mission finally finished? She pleaded with Celestia for strength.
One unicorn lay in a slight clearing. A survivor. This was the closest they'd been in forever. Swirling's body filled with anticipation.
Rushing into the clearing, the guard sat beside the unicorn. Only then did he see the wound.
Beneath him, a broken leg, bent out of shape like a canteen spoon. Blood seeped out of it endlessly. Swirling had training, she could save the unicorn. She had to save him. Someone would survive. Someone had to survive. She hadn't trekked through the woods for nearly a month for nothing.
Even as she did the lights in his eyes were fading. “They went up,” he wheezed in the voice of agony, “I fell.”
He collapsed back onto the ground. Try as she might, bandages wouldn't save him. Even a healing potion wouldn't fix blood loss.
Still she tried. Forcing as much pressure onto the wound as possible, she wrapped the leg in a thousand bandages. No expense could be spared. This unicorn had to survive. She had to. Someone had to survive…
The unicorn lifted three blue feathers. “No,” the guard pleaded, “don't go.”
“How long?” He asked weakly, “have you been looking?”
“Just almost a month. Don't worry, we're going to save you. You'll be alright.”
“Isabel was right,” he smiled, “after everything she was right. About everything 'cept moving. We should have stayed. Should have...” he coughed.
“What do you mean?” Swirling asked, “who’s Isabel?”
Oscar laughed, a pained weak breathy laugh, but still a laugh, “get these back to her won't you?” He handed her the feathers, “tell her Oscar sent you.”
“Oscar?” Swirling was surprised, it was a very not pony name for a pony. But now wasn't the time for those questions, “that's your name?”
Oscar nodded. “I promised her. Keep it for me.”
With that he fell silent. Swirling knew death when it came. Guards were familiar with it. But it stung worse than any corpse she had found before. She had failed. Another pony was dead. Why couldn't she just go faster? Someone had to survive! They needed to! Why couldn't someone survive?
Thick greenery seeped across their vision. Overgrown bushes overgrown with more bushes. The kind of endless green that stained your vision long after it was gone.
Progress was slow through this forest. Suddenly, they'd gone from a normal forest to a temperate jungle. Thick brambles slashed at their legs. Again, fur was a useful protection, but it wasn't impenetrable.
Isabel missed the easy going of before. Gentle uphill was all they knew now. Uphill trampling their way through bracken made their journey even harder.
How many miles had they gone since their journey began so many days ago? It had to have been a month by now. Perhaps even more. Hunger famished minds made for bad clocks.
Time would drag on at the best of times. But this was not the best of times. It was the worst of times. And so time crawled even slower.
Roots crept down like sinister mangroves, twisting and turning like nightmares incarnate. Thick trunks broke the line they hoped for and made it crooked and jagged. How she wished she could actually fly. Then she could just fly over this horror. Be done with all the perilous plants.
It felt swampy and the air had an acidic taste, though by now that could be her hunger. Headaches had turned to migraines and fatigue. Each step felt like a mile.
They hadn't eaten since Oscar… Since Oscar fell. He was probably still alive down there, waiting for them to call help to his location. There was still hope. Still hope. Hope.
Grim nights had forced sleep from them. Luxuries that couldn't be afforded when food and shelter were so expensive. Since climbing, the river had become inaccessible and their canteens ran dry. Two days and they'd be dead. If something else hadn't killed them first.
Ahead of them was another of those empty dens that were scattered along the hilltop. Unlike their previous forest, this one seemed to be hostile. Warnings of malicious danger that might be called upon them.
Bears likely. At least they should keep their distance so long as they knew where she was.
With how much sound they seemed to be making, they must've been heard miles away. But that could've been the hunger too. Or the thirst.
Never again would she take for granted all the things she had for so long. Now she didn't have it, she realised how lucky they'd been to find that river.
And before that? Running water. Food. A warm house. All things Isabel would've given anything for.
Now she had do do everything. Everything to keep going.
She hardly remembered the time before that doomed hike. Being a pony seemed as normal now as being a human ever was. Hooves were a little inconvenient at times, but wings were pretty neat, once you learned how to move them around. All that stopped her enjoying them properly was that growl of hunger and the howl of her stomach.
Howl? That wasn't a stomach noise.
Too late did the group realise. Another howl. This one so much closer. Wolves.
Isabel racked her knowledge for anything that might help her. What did wolves hate? How did they fend them off? But her hunger starved brain offered no answers. Behind her, a gap in the trees brought in crisp sunlight. Lighting the way to dusty death.
But if she didn't figure this out it would be her candle that would go out like a walking shadow.
Henry ran.
Chaos was quick to take hold. Aiden followed Henry into the woods and a flash of green followed them. Green glowing eyes, like some kind of monster. Isabel kept moving back. Slowly, facing where she believed the creature to be. Henry and Aiden were long gone, but there was more than one wolf. She kept moving backwards. A hundred metres. Two hundred.
Then she saw it.
Dark wood logs were forced together by some evil god to make that thing. Sticks for features and thorns for deadly claws. Solid, like it had been carved from one block then shattered and reassembled. And beneath leaves that looked like eyebrows the glowing green flashlights peered out at her. It was terrifying. A creature that looked like a wolf but made from wood.
On top of it all was the smell. Like decaying wood, it overcame her and threatened to suffocate her.
For a moment, Isabel considered if it were a hallucination. Wolves couldn't be made of wood could they? But then if magic could exist... anything was possible.
She still backed closer to that clearing. Her only hope, as distant as it could be. However, now she was near, she realised it was a high cliff. Only death awaited her there.
But death awaited her here too.
Flashing wooden teeth and claws, the timberwolf struck. It was brutal and relentless. Like daggers into a steak, the teeth clamped onto her hind leg.
Sharp fiery pain flew through her. Paralysing her nerves with overloaded signals. Worse, was the feeling of warm blood soaking out. Hopefully it hadn't cut an artery. But fortune was certainty not with them anymore. It had left long ago.
A sharp kick to the nose was enough to force it to retreat. But the pain wouldn't stop. Isabel couldn't run. She couldn't fight.
There was only one option. Cliffs might be deadly for a creature of the earth. Wolves couldn't fly. But she could. And she was only ten metres from the edge.
A final burst of adrenaline fueled that desperate last attempt at survival. Throwing herself from the cliff, she began to fall. The ground got closer and closer as the pain from her leg stung her to death.
She fell.
Swirling was tired of this pony. Tracking carvings on a tree to three doomed souls was hard enough on a pony.
Worse, Drift had abandoned her. Some matter of urgency in the north. Leaving her alone to track shadows.
They were deep in timberwolf territory now. The marks had led her here. To a small clearing by the side of the cliff. Thankfully, the markings were distinctive now. Otherwise she certainly would've confused them with the claw markings of wolves.
But the marks stopped. Nothing in any direction. Only a steep cliff face and forest. Perhaps the timberwolves had gotten them.
She couldn't believe that. Someone had to have survived. Someone had to be here. Where had they gone? They couldn't be dead.
But there was nothing. She'd not been strong enough, fast enough or smart enough to follow them. Now at least three ponies were dead. Maybe four. Or more. None of them knew how large the group was.
Swirling stopped. Upon the ground was a stain of blood and three blue feathers. Not expertly placed like the rest, but randomly scattered, as if they had fallen out in a scuffle.
Three blue feathers.
Another dead pony. Maybe the pegasus herself. It was evil of the world to have dropped three feathers in her own death. Some sadistic sarcasm. But evil was all she'd seen. From death to death evil was always close behind.
But nature wasn't evil. It didn't try to kill the survivors. She had done that. By moving too slowly.
They were dead. The search was over.
Wind rushed across her wings as Isabel fell to certain death. The angle needed to be just right to keep her up. Just right.
Pain distracted her from the task that needed to be done. Blood dripped down with her, falling down that immense drop. Phoebe, Emma, Oscar. All of them had died for nothing. Now she would too. Impaled upon a rock at the bottom of the mountain just because she couldn't remember how to fly.
The universe really was cruel.
A twitch in her wing jostled them into the right angle and all at once her fall turned into a steep glide. Air rushed into her face, not her chest and she was moving.
She was flying.
Flying felt like its own perfect magic. Wind in her mane and air under her feathers. Dancing through her wings, air flowed elegantly across them. She could fly!
Of course she'd glided a couple of metres before, but nothing like this. It was so much more real. More beautiful. More perfect.
Far below, the ground rushed by as if she were on a train. Except so much more clear.
Never before had anything come close to the feeling of that wind. That air, the sun above her. All of it drowned out the pain and the hunger and the thirst and filled her with unbridled joy.
Even better was what she could see in the far distance. Much too far to fly and maybe even put of reach on hoof, was a medieval looking town. Somewhere she could be saved. At long last.
Hope saturated her thoughts. She could get help for Oscar. Find Aiden and Henry. They would all be alright.
Then she crashed into the bushes and pain overwhelmed her leg again. Bearing any weight was impossible in this state and alone she had no help.
Thankfully, the wolf hadn't punctured her artery, when it's thorny teeth had sliced her calf, otherwise she would already be dead. But a slight mercy didn't mean she was home free.
In fact, it was quite the opposite. She had only the pack on her back to treat the kind of wound she should have had a hospital for. Blood flowed unrestricted. Sticking to her fur, sanguine red.
It hurt to even think about, but she was quick to sling her bag from her back. Looking back on it, she should have insisted on carrying the first aid kit; Henry had it. He wouldn't find her out here. That was more likely than a million lightning strikes.
It wasn't that bad, at least she knew they had a better chance than she did. She was without vital equipment and they weren't.
So she had to improvise. That was what what had got them this far after all. The thing humans, or maybe ponies in this world, were known for. Improvisation and intelligence. She could use all the intelligence she could get.
Blackness crept into her vision as she scanned the bag for anything that might help. Nothing fit the bill: a bottle of water long emptied, a bag full of nothing, a towel, a box of matches... A towel.
Ripping it out of the bag with her wing, she brandished it like it were a golden sword. It was a sword to vanquish bleeding and with strength she didn't know she had, she fought back the emerging tiredness. Just like before, sleep was death. She had to stay awake.
Stay alive.
Pulling it around her leg, she yanked it as tight as possible, keeping constant pressure on the wound. An improvised bandage. It wasn't pretty, a towel pulled tight over her leg and tied roughly at the back. But it could save her life. If it worked.
She would have to hope it could. Else she would die and it would all be for nothing.
She had a new goal now, that strange town in the distance. With it's rooftops and streets and walls and towers. It could save her life. How far it was, Isabel didn't know. Too far, she imagined.
But she couldn't let go of that hope. It was buried deep into her heart, twisting and pulling at her from an impossible distance. Forcing her to keep going despite the insurmountable odds.
The woods were still thick with bushes, though unlike before, there appeared to be a trail cut out from it. Little used, by the evidence of the overgrowth, and unpaved, but a traversable path nevertheless. It better not wind too much, Isabel thought, she couldn't take walking in circles.
In fact, she could barely walk at all.
Certainly, she shouldn't have walked. In ideal circumstances. Walking risked reopening the wound or upsetting the bandage. Muscles moving could damage the limb and force an amputation. Or kill her. That was always a possibility.
But maybe the gods would finally have mercy. She had no other choice regardless. Staying here meant death too.
So she stepped onto the trail.
And she almost collapsed in pain.
Searing agony ebbed through her muscles. Unbareable, awful, stinging, flaming, endless pain. Begging her to stop moving, Isabel's body berated her for forsaking it. For her betrayal.
Even hope was struggling to keep her going. Agony incarnate. Struggling atop struggling struggle. It hurt to think. To feel. To breathe. Let alone move. Or walk.
Yet she kept going. Step after step, crawling her way along the loosely trampled pathways in desperation. Desperate hope of rescue. Before it was too late.
It might already be.
She was living on borrowed time. Only hoping she might afford to repay it, she had no other choice. Pain or death.
Some might choose death.
But Isabel had to survive. For Phoebe. For Emma. For Oscar and Aiden and Henry too. All of them could live on in her story.
If she survived.
So she kept struggling.
Gloomily, Swirling Gale entered Lieutenant Drift's office. It was a dismal place, made of soft cloud yet feeling cold and hard as concrete. A single desk sat in a sea of nothing. Meager in comparison to the size of the room, though the room wasn't large. And posters of nothing were plastered as propaganda against the walls.
Behind the desk, sat the pony she reported to. The one who would finally call her search off. End the suffering.
Between her teeth, she carried a final report on the survivors. Though she could hardly bear to carry it; it felt like tungsten.
All dead it would explain. Search over. Nothing else.
Trembling, she dropped it onto the desk. "Unfortunately," she stammered, feeling every word like a knife to her heart, "the survivors... Are... They're all dead..."
Drift only nodded. He seemed to understand her in a way that went beyond sympathy. "You did your best. Remember that. Whatever you do, don't blame yourself. Don't forget all the good you did."
But Swirling did blame herself. Regret for what could have been drowned her. Suffocated her with the idea of blame. Could she had gone faster? Spent less time with the bodies? Found the marks earlier? Or was it just fate?
It couldn't be fate.
She couldn't accept that it was meant to be. Ponies were supposed to be able to change things.
Except no one could change the past.
"I can tell you're pretty cut up about this," Drift placed a comforting hoof on Swirling's shoulder, "take it from me, you get caught up in what you did wrong and you don't remember all the things you did right."
"I know," Swirling lied, a quick hoof brushing away a lonely tear.
"No you don't, but you're still young, I wouldn't expect you to," Drift replied, surprising Swirling Gale with his forthcoming honesty, "I'm putting you on leave for the time being. Go see your family, your friends, whoever you want. You have the time off. We'll contact you when we need you back."
"Thank you," Swirling nodded, fighting back more tears. She couldn't understand. Her failure meant the world to no one and to everyone. It stung as badly as any wound ever could.
"Why don't you stop by Ponyville and deliver your report to Princess Twilight? She's been taking an interest in the case," Drift explained, "if not, I can get someone else to-"
"I'll do it," Swirling interrupted, "I'll make sure it gets to the princess. I need something else to do with all the time you've given me."
"I commend your commitment Swirling Gale. You should be proud of yourself."
But she wasn't proud. She felt like a failure. This has been her first mission in the guard that really mattered and she'd messed it up.
Looking out at the city of Cloudsdale, her eyes flicked across the cloud pillars and the stormy spires. Pegasi fluttering to and fro across her vision patternlessly. All sights that her mystery pegasus would never see again. Cloudsdale was the spiritual home of the Pegasi and it felt wrong to stay here after she had failed.
Yet the city didn't care. It was beautiful despite the survivors absence.
Maybe a break would be good after all. She needed something to take her mind off the recent events or she'd go crazy with regret.
Just needed to get that letter to Ponyville first.
Easy.
Huddling under twisted tree roots wasn't a good way to start a day. Wet mud stuck to her fur and her mane was caked in dirt. Grass and weeds stroked her with crisp, wet, dew covered fingers. And yet Isabel didn't care.
She hadn't slept, of course. With that inexorable pain ringing through her nerves she couldn't hope to catch a moment of respite. Even in rest.
Since losing blood, she'd felt cold and tired. Lethargic and slothish. The kind of demotivating tiredness that dragged down ambition turned toxic with circumstance.
Compounding this, was the dehydration. Faint dizziness had grasped her mind, warranting all kinds of awful decisions and making worse the pain of the wound. She could hardly trust her mind any longer. Not without anyone to bounce ideas off.
Without friends, Survival was near impossible.
Hunger too pinched her thoughts, making all the problems a million times worse. Dealing with life threatening injuries would have been bad at the best of times, dealing with it while half starved in the forest was completely different.
Hope was still distant. She could see the glow of lights through the impossibility thick trees yet she was still much too far for much hope of rescue. Someone living on the edge of the forest might save her life with their home's position. If anyone lived there. But maybe they didn't.
Hope may have been distant...
But it was there. And Isabel loved it. For it tasted of sunlight.
And it kept her crawling forwards despite the unendurable fire that covered her leg. Sunlight could burn as quickly as it could warm but people still crave it. Delight in its glory.
Though it throbbed with pain, her ramshackle bandage had kept her alive. Blood had stained through the towel, undoubtedly ruining the fabric. But it kept her alive and that made it worth more than gold.
Every now and then, she would consider adjusting it or trying to find another object in her bag that might help obtain the same effect. So she could replace the bandage with something better. Improve her chances.
There wasn't anything else that could be done. Her fate was on the wind. It could go anywhere and she couldn't stop it.
But pain had to stop. To stop, she needed to reach the town. To reach the town, she needed to walk. To walk, she needed to endure more pain.
A vicious cycle of torture; it was what she was used to. It would be strange being back in society, having a job again, committments. She'd miss a little of the freedom of the wild.
But that freedom came with a high price. For her friends, it had been their lives. For her, immense suffering. She begged for her own life now. Pushing against limits to cheat fate.
What was fate anyway but cruel?
She could beat this: survive, call help for her friends, find the others and take another step.
Step after step up another torturous hill, through a forest with no end. Upwards again, till she reached the crest of the microsized mountain.
There she saw the most beautiful sight her eyes had ever seen.
White walls held up a roof of grass. Bright and brilliant, light poured out a plethora of windows as evidence of life within. A thousand bird boxes peaked out of the mossy rooftop and a chimney poured out kind smoke.
Ringed with a little stream that could easily be crossed with the small arched bridge that sat near the entrance, beckoning her inside.
It looked beautiful, with plentiful wildlife to accompany the fairytale cottage. Hares and rabbits played in the grass while birds tweeted in the treetops. Isabel had to rub her eyes to make sure it wasn't a mirage.
It wasn't.
But even better than a cottage, were the two ponies that stood at the base of the hill. Isabel could hardly tell what they might be doing, but at that moment, it didn't matter. She needed help and they were help.
"Help!" She cried out in desperation, praying that these ponies weren't mere illusions. "Help!" She yelled again, till their heads turned in her direction.
A moment later, both had taken to the air, desperate to cover the remaining ground to the crawling pegasi as soon as possible.
Isabel could barely stand, so she allowed herself to fall to the floor. For the first time in weeks, she felt safe again. It felt better than anything.
"Are you alright?" The left one, a yellow pegasus with a flowing pink mane, asked, "you look terrible."
"Fluttershy – look!" The other, who seemed to have both violet wings and a horn, yelled in alarm, "look at her leg."
It was said with such authority that Isabel scarcely avoided glancing down at the wound herself, despite knowing exactly how it looked. Blood had stained through the towel many hours ago and looking again wasn't about to change that.
Besides, she felt weak and dizzy. A moment too long and she would pass out.
She uttered a final message, "Find the... The others..." Before she fell to the grassy floor.