The company left for Hollow Shades on a cold morning three days later.
The first hard freeze of the year struck overnight, and Vermilion was grateful for it. The provincial roads, which had been a sluice of cold mud all the month prior, had frozen solid as the cobblestone streets of Everfree. Feathers of hoarfrost climbed up the grassy stalks in the fields, turning the autumn-brown expanse crystal white.
“Oh, wow, that’s pretty,” Quicklime said, stopping by Vermilion’s side to stare out at the fields. She wore an offensively non-military scarf around her neck. Yellow, yarn, with little brown ducks embroidered along the rim. “Kind of chilly, though.”
“Eh, it’s not so bad,” Cloud Fire said. Like the other pegasi, he didn’t bother with any cold-weather gear; his thick coat and thicker blood warded off all but the most frigid temperatures. A pegasus could sleep in a snowbank without any ill effect. “How’s that gear? Need Cherry to hold any of it?”
“I think I’ll be fine,” she said. She turned to the road, and the tower of equipment stacked on her back wobbled precariously. “If it gets too heavy I’ll ask for help.”
“We can probably make some space in the wagons for it,” Vermilion said. Technically, the wagons weren’t for personal possessions – they were for essential supplies for the entire company. Bags of oats, barrels of water, tents, tar for torches, weapons, armor, the major’s writing desk, maps, surveying equipment, engineering tools capable of repairing or destroying a dam, and even a special wagon filled with magical supplies that Vermilion preferred not to think about. Something within seemed to whisper to ponies when they drew too close.
“No, it’s—whoa! Hee, almost lost it there. No, it’s fine.” Quicklime moved slowly to keep from overbalancing the load, and began down the path toward the rest of the company.
Eighty ponies and twenty wagons made for quite the sight as they marched along the road. Behind them, only a few miles distant, the resplendent towers of Everfree glowed in the dawn. Their breath formed thick clouds in the crisp air, and the steady, monotonous thud of hooves against the frozen dirt slowly lulled Vermilion into a sort of waking daydream.
It was too bright, too pleasant for thoughts of spiders. In fact, the idea of the monsters seemed so distant now – with the sun warming his face, and nearly a hundred of the kingdom’s elite guard marching by his side, there was nothing to fear. Spiders were just bugs, after all.
Monsters had no magic. The company had twenty unicorns trained in battle spells. Last night, on a dare, Lieutenant Corinthium turned a living tree into a bonfire from a hundred paces with a spark from his horn. The acrid smoke lingered in their nostrils for hours.
Monsters (or, at least, monstrous spiders) couldn’t fly. The company had weather specialists like Zephyr, who could draw hail out of thin air or blanket the world in fog. And that was to say nothing of Major Canopy, the deadliest pony Vermilion hoped to ever encounter. He pitied anything she elected to destroy.
And the earth ponies? Well, they had weapons. And somepony had to keep all the supplies straight. A starving pegasus wasn’t very effective in battle, and pegasi began to starve as soon as they missed breakfast, according to Cloud Fire.
The miles ground on beneath their hooves, and soon enough the excitement of a new movement began to wear thin. He could see it in the unicorns first, the way their ears sagged and their heads dipped lower. Despite the cold air, sweat began to glisten in their coats, and rather than step crisply in time with each other, their hooves began to drag. But through it all they kept on with a sort of grim determination. Unicorns may not be as tough as earth ponies, able to march as far or haul as much, but they were determined.
Pegasi, however…
“I feel… I feel like we missed a break somewhere,” Cloud Fire mumbled. He and Zephyr practically leaned against each other for support as they walked. “We should have stopped by now.”
“My hooves hurt,” Zephyr added.
“Why can’t we fly? We should be allowed to fly. We’d be, like, halfway there by now if we could fly.”
Pegasi did not suffer in silence, like unicorns. Pegasi suffered and complained. Loudly. Vermilion found himself smiling.
“Are they always like that?” Quicklime whispered. She’d stayed by his side all throughout the march, somehow managing to keep pace despite her much shorter legs. She was sweating, and breathing heavily, but the smile she’d apparently woken up with hadn’t gone anywhere.
“They’ll get over it soon. The first few hours are always the hardest,” he said. “How are you holding up?”
“Little tired. Beats being in an office, though.”
Did it? Vermilion had never worked in an office. If it was anything like working on a farm, though, he’d want to avoid it as diligently as possible.
Somewhere ahead, one of the pegasi was whining again. Vermilion smiled and tilted his head back to bask in the sun.
* * *
It took a week for the company to reach Gloom’s Edge, the town at the halfway point on their march to Hollow Shades. True to its name, Gloom’s Edge sat on two important boundaries – the first, visible only to cartographers, was the Equestrian border. Behind them, off to the west, lay the world of civilization. Pony villages, farms, cities, and of course Everfree. The world of law and harmony.
None of those things were visible from Gloom’s Edge. The town lay far from the centers of pony culture. Fallow fields extended to the north and south, half of them sunken into bogs and marshes. A constant fog bedeviled the company for the past day, soaking their coats and chilling them to the bone. Even the pegasi seemed to feel the weather’s sting. The only other ponies they saw were the occasional trader, hauling their wagon toward some obscure destination.
Gloom’s Edge sat on another, much more real border as well: the Creeping Gloom began here, or ended here, depending on your perspective. The town clung to a high bluff overlooking a placid river, and beyond it the lonely forest extended east to the horizon. Mists drifted between the trunks, blending with the shadows and concealing everything beyond the first few yards. Patches of naked oaks and maples stood out from the green pines, their bare, crooked branches reminiscent of bones.
The rickety bridge spanning the river was a triumph of hope over engineering prowess. Past it the road continued, though far narrower than before. The trees swallowed it almost immediately.
And, presumably, there was another town some hundred yards past all this. Ponies would live anywhere, it seemed.
“There it is, fillies. The wild frontier,” Sergeant Buckeye said. The squad was gathered at his behest on the edge of the bluff. Fifty feet below, the river lapped at a scree of fallen boulders. “Y’all should be proud. Not many ponies ever make it this far from home.”
There was a good reason for that. Even his parents’ farm held more charm than the wilderness before them. Smarter ponies, having made it this far, would promptly turn around. But, he thought with a sigh, he hadn’t joined the Guard because he was smart.
“We gonna keep going, boss?” Cloud Fire glanced up at the sky, and despite the thick, low clouds Vermilion knew he was measuring the sun’s position. “’Bout five hours of light left.”
“Doubt it,” Buckeye said. He gestured with his head, where the major and the other officers were huddled around one of the wagons. “I bet we take a long break, move out in the morning.”
“You want we should drop our gear?” Zephyr asked. It was a rhetorical question, as she’d dumped her pack on the squishy ground as soon as they stopped moving.
“Might as well. The other squads are,” Buckeye said. Down the bluffs, the other squads had gathered in their own little huddles, and most of them stood around little piles of gear. A few pegasi jumped from the cliffside and soared over the river, stretching their wings.
Cloud Fire stared after them. “Hey, boss, can we—”
“Yeah, just stay in shouting distance.”
The words were barely out of his mouth, and the squad’s pegasi were already in the air. Their carefree shouts brought a little cheer to the drizzly day.
Buckeye watched them for a moment, then shook his head and turned to Vermilion. “So, private, how’s your charge holding up?”
“Surprisingly well, sir,” he said. Over the past week Quicklime had grown more confident, and ventured further from his side. She was with the major now, pointing to something on the paperwork they had laid out on the wagon’s bench. “She seems to be enjoying it, actually.
“Hm.” He watched Quicklime some more, then leaned in closer to Vermilion. “When we get into the forest, don’t let her out of your sight. Some unicorns don’t use the sense Celestia gave them.”
“She’s not stupid, sir.”
“I didn’t say she was stupid, private.” Buckeye’s words carried a hint of heat. Privates rarely talked back to sergeants, but a week on the road had a way of loosening tongues. “I said you should keep an eye on her. You got that?”
Vermilion nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He gestured at the group of officers with his hoof. “Looks like she wants you now, in fact.”
Quicklime was waving at them. Bouncing and waving, in fact. When she saw she had their attention, she shouted too. “Cherry! Cherry!”
Buckeye snorted. “Cherry? Oh, that’s precious. Well, get to it, Cherry.”
Rarely had Vermilion been more glad to have a dark red coat. It covered his embarrassed flush perfectly. He trotted over to Quicklime before she could shout loud enough to attract any more attention.
“Yes, ma’am?” He kept his voice low when he reached her, barely above a whisper. The company’s entire officer corps was just a few feet away, standing around a map, and Vermilion’s new goal in life was to get through this conversation without them realizing he existed.
“The major wants you,” she said. And with that she trotted over to the circle of officers, butting into them like it was no big thing.
Fear was not an emotion ponies of the Guard were given to. Fully half their training was designed to toughen them against it, put them in fearful situations and show them that they had the strength and courage to overcome it. Climbing high obstacles, traversing ropes over a river ravine, or fighting another pony with bare hooves – every time a pony faced those challenges, their fear shrank, until their fear was contained in a tight, disciplined box, bound in chains, kept contained to a tiny dungeon in their mind.
Despite all that, when Quicklime whispered into the major’s ear, and the officers’ conversation stopped and they all turned toward him, a bit of that old fear escaped and shot up his spine, chilling him in its wake. He froze, then snapped to attention.
“Ma’am, Private Vermilion, reporting as ordered.”
“At ease,” Canopy said. She stepped around the map and walked over to him with Quicklime bouncing alongside. The major was only a few inches taller than the diminutive unicorn, but there the similarities ended. Like the other pegasi her coat was already thick and shaggy for winter, but it did nothing to hide the cord-like muscles banded around her legs. A dusting of silver on her muzzle broke the otherwise uniform emerald coat and added a sense of rugged maturity to the raw strength she exuded. Beside her, he and Quicklime both were like foals encaged with a cobra.
Despite her order, he stood a bit straighter.
If she noticed (which she surely did – how could those sapphire eyes miss anything?) she didn’t comment on it. “So, you’re our other monster expert?”
Vermilion blinked. “Um.”
“I told her I’ve been telling you about the spiders, and that you’ve asked more questions than anypony else in the company about them!” Quicklime said. She was beaming, like this was all a good thing. “You know almost as much about them as I do at this point.”
“Um.” Suddenly, a week’s worth of morbid fascination with the monsters they were rushing towards seemed like a poor use of his time. “Ah, I wouldn’t say I’m an expert, ma’am. Just curious. I don’t think we’ll really know anything about them until we find one.”
“Hm.” The shadow of a smile graced her lips. “The first step toward wisdom is knowing what you don’t know, private. Little tip for you: if you ever go into battle thinking you know everything, you’re probably walking into a trap.”
“Speaking from experience, ma’am?” The words escaped before he could consider them.
The smile grew into a smirk. “We all make mistakes sometimes, private. It’s the nature of the business. The winner is the one who makes the fewest.”
“I’ll try not to make too many, ma’am.”
“Very good.” Canopy inclined her head toward Quicklime. “Agent, would you mind giving us a moment?”
“Sure!” She bounced in placed, smiling at them. “Oh, you mean, like, over there? Right, sorry.” She ducked her head and trotted back to the other officers, injecting herself into their huddle with barely a ripple.
And then there were two.
“I’m glad to hear you’re working so well with Quicklime,” she said. “I know she can be a little eccentric, and her demeanor isn’t quite what we’re used to.”
He shrugged. “It’s fine, ma’am. She doesn’t complain, and it’s really neat how much she knows about… well, almost everything.”
“Good, good.” Canopy watched Quicklime for a bit, thinking some deep, officer thought. “When we get to Hollow Shades, she’ll be staying in the town.”
“Ma’am?”
“She’s a good asset, but she won’t be any use in the forest. We need ponies who know how to take care of themselves in dangerous situations. Is that how you would describe her?”
“She’s a good pony, ma’am. I mean, maybe she’s not a soldier, but—”
“Would you trust her with your life?”
“I, ah… I guess I would.”
“Hm.” Canopy leaned in close and lowered her voice. Her muzzle nearly brushed against his, and he could smell the rainstorm scent of her coat. “And what about your squad? Would you trust your friends’ lives with her?”
He swallowed. “She’s a good pony, ma’am.”
Her stance softened, and she stepped back. “I know, I’m not disparaging her, son. I wouldn’t have brought her along with us if I didn’t think she’d be an asset, and I’m sure her knowledge will help save lives. But that doesn’t mean we need to rely on her skills with a sword. Does it?”
He shook his head. “Ma’am, if I may, why are you asking me this? You don’t need my advice.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong.” She laid a wing over his shoulder – a bit of a stretch for her, considering their size difference. “When we go hunting, you’re taking her place. You’ll be our expert.”
Oh.
* * *
They spent the night in Gloom’s Edge. There weren’t enough beds in the boarding house for the entire company, but they all slept inside, warmed by hearths kept blazing throughout the night. For the first time in a week, Vermilion’s bones thawed. It stank inside of smoke and sweat and too many ponies gone too long without a bath.
It was wonderful. When they woke the next morning, an hour before dawn, he needed an extra few minutes to get out of his bedroll.
The earth ponies made it outside first, of course. The entire contingent of them began loading the wagons and warming the company’s meals. By the time the first unicorns made it out, bleary and stumbling, hot oatmeal and coffee were already waiting for them. They accepted the bowls gratefully and settled into their huddles, mumbling quiet conversations that didn’t concern earth pony ears.
Finally, just as the edge of the sun broke over the eastern horizon, Buckeye grabbed a pair of iron pots and took them inside. There was a brief pause, presumably while Buckeye savored the moment, and then a terrible clamor erupted, as of bells not being rung but rather slammed into each other by an angry god. Then came shouting, and a flood of pegasi burst from the doors, trailing feathers and curses as Buckeye chased them out, still bashing the pots together.
Cloud Fire and Zephyr finally found him in the chaos. “Good morning,” he said to them, passing over their bowls.
Zephyr mumbled something on the verge of actual words. They inhaled their porridge and spent the next few minutes preening their wings. Relative silence returned to the morning as the other pegasi engaged in the same ritual.
Quicklime joined them, a steaming tin of coffee held aloft in her magical grip. “Hi!” she chirped. “Looks like it’ll be a nice day.”
Both pegasi stopped at this and looked up at the sky, their movements so eerily synchronized they might as well have shared a single mind. It always unnerved him when they did that.
They returned to their preening as one. “Will start raining in a few hours,” Cloud Fire said around a mouthful of feathers.
“Maybe turning to snow tonight,” Zephyr added. She spat out a fluff of down.
“Oh.” Quicklime’s ears wilted. “Well, um, it’s nice now.”
“It’ll be fine,” Vermilion said. “Just have your rain gear ready to go.”
Canopy joined the company as they finished their meals. Her wings were already perfectly groomed, and she looked as wide awake as anypony Vermilion had ever seen. How she did it was a mystery – a bit of that officer magic. She stopped to huddle with the chief and other officers while the earth ponies loaded the wagons, and then it was time to say goodbye to Gloom’s Edge.
The town was just waking up when they departed. Shopkeepers set out their displays as the company marched down the single road. A few waved at the column, and a baker handed out little bags filled with bready treats as they passed. Vermilion’s smelled of garlic and butter, and he could barely resist the temptation to tear into it right then and there.
Cloud Fire had no such qualms. Zephyr was only a few minutes behind. Quicklime tucked hers into her saddlebags for later.
A series of haphazardly maintained, narrow switchbacks led down the cliffs from Gloom’s Edge to the river. The gravel slid beneath his hooves, and he focused on the ground in front of him rather than the drop to the side. When they reached the river at the bottom it was with a sense of relief.
They crossed the bridge one squad at a time – it didn’t look like it could support more ponies and wagons than that. He could see the river churning beneath the wood planks, and while the drop wasn’t very far and the water not very deep, Vermilion didn’t think much of his chances if the bridge collapsed. It was with another sense of relief that he reached the other side.
And then he got his first look at the forest, and the relief vanished.
“Who would live in a place like this?” Zephyr wondered aloud.
The Creeping Gloom was the most aptly named place Vermilion had ever seen. It was the name he would have given the forest himself, if he’d stumbled upon it in some smothering dream. Trees like towers rose from the river bank, straight pines and stately maples and twisted, monstrous oaks whose serpentine branches reached out with hanging mosses to encurtain the shadows beyond. Roots grappled with the riverbank, clawing at it, holding dirt and stones jealous against the pull of water.
Dimly visible between the trunks, pale and still and white against the wet black bark, he saw the mists that lent the forest their name. They floated like ghosts, tenebrous, like gauze stretched across his eyes. They would not, he was certain, burn away in the morning sun. They would last forever.
It was exactly the sort of place one expected to find giant spiders. They may as well have put a sign out front.
Into this mass of gray and green the path dwindled and vanished. It was narrower than the road above, barely wide enough for their wagons, but free along the sides of underbrush or questing roots. A hallway carved out of the living forest; a hole in the heart of nature.
“Alright, fillies, stop gawking. We’ve got point,” Buckeye said. Even his booming voice seemed subdued, swallowed by the mists. “Vermilion, you and Quicklime stay near the back of the squad.”
“Should we get our weapons ready, boss?” Gale, one of the squad’s other pegasi, asked. Like the others, her wings were half-raised, feathers standing on edge. Their ears twitched at every sound.
Buckeye chewed on his lip as he surveyed the forest. “Just keep ‘em handy.”
They made slow progress. Within minutes of entering the forest, the river and the bluffs and Gloom’s Edge and the entire world of ponies vanished from their sight. There was only the trees, and the mists, and the creaking wagon wheels, and the gentle thud of eighty ponies worth of hooves on forest loam. Nopony spoke.
As the hours passed, Vermilion became more attuned to the forest’s strange language. The dribble of water in distant streams whispered to them. The pines rustled in the wind, sounding almost like the fields of wheat he’d played in as a foal. When the rains came, as Cloudy had predicted, they added their own rush and patter. Quicklime stretched a poncho hood over her mane. The earth ponies grumbled, but none of them wanted to be the first to put their weather gear on. The pegasi didn’t even appear to notice the rain.
Fortunately, the rain stayed light, but it grew colder as the day passed. By noon, Vermilion’s breath formed thick clouds in the air that drifted off between the trees, hardly bothering to dissipate. As the short afternoon ground on, the rain began to sting their noses when it hit and left little dots of ice in their coats. The earth ponies finally put their cloaks on.
They stopped for the night at the first large clearing they found. Moss-covered stone foundations suggested a town at one point, or at least a few forgotten cottages now fallen into ruin. A tiny graveyard sprouted cracked tombstones, their epitaphs obliterated by time. Ponies worked in silence as they set up the tents.
Vermilion dreamed that night of spiders.
* * *
It was still dark when they woke, though it didn’t feel any earlier than normal. The thick trees and constant fog extended the night well past its natural hour.
The pegasi seemed nervous about something, twitching even more than usual. Vermilion tried approaching Zephyr, but she brushed him off with a grumble and buried her face in her porridge. Even the major was not immune – she stood apart from the company, apart from the other officers, her head tilted up as if she were testing the air. Some odd scent mingled with the loam and wet stone that suffused them.
Quicklime found him in the semi-darkness. The gray light seeping in from the east was just enough to give her shape without color. She pressed up against his side.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice pitched low, just for her ears.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Everypony seems kind of, uh, nervous, though.”
“That’s just this place. Once we get moving we’ll be fine.”
Cloud Fire found them next. He already had his gear stacked on his back, apparently eager to get going. His mane was even more frazzled than normal.
“This town better be worth it,” he grumbled. “I swear to Luna, Cherry, you earth ponies are crazy.”
“Hey!” Quicklime frowned at him. “That’s not nice.”
Vermilion set a hoof on her withers. “It’s fine. Sometimes we do get a little too attached to the land.”
“Yeah, but…” Her frown settled into a pout.
Zephyr joined them. “Are we complaining about earth ponies? I’d like to get in on that, if we are.”
“We’re complaining about some earth ponies,” Cloud Fire said. “Specifically, ones who live in Tartarus-forsaken forests a thousand miles from the damned capital. I mean, why would you do that?”
“We can’t all live in floating cities,” Vermilion said. “You’re born somewhere, and that’s your home, and that’s it. You can’t leave.”
“You left,” Zephyr said. She motioned toward the bulk of the company, still packing up their belongings in the dim gloomy light. “They all did.”
“Yeah, well.” He frowned down at the dirt. “There are exceptions.”
“Not enough of them.” Cloud Fire shook out his mane, which did nothing to help it.
“Are you okay?” Vermilion asked. “You both look a little ragged. All the pegasi do.”
Cloudy Fire nodded. “Peachy. Didn’t sleep well, is all. Dreamed I was stuck in webs.”
Zephyr looked up from her preening. “You too?”
“Same here,” Vermilion said. They turned to Quicklime.
She shrugged. “Nope. Sorry. Dreamed I forgot my homework and my exam kept catching on fire when I tried to fill out the answers.”
“What’s homework?” Vermilion asked. He’d never taken an exam, but he was pretty sure he knew what they were.
“It’s, um…” She paused and was silent for a moment. “It’s just a unicorn thing, I guess. Wow.”
“Anyway, most of us dreamed of the damned things.” Cloud Fire spun in a slow circle. “Do you think that’s, like, a sign?”
“I think it’s a sign that we spent the night in a creepy forest on our way to hunt giant spiders,” Zephyr said. For a pegasus, she was pretty level headed. “Don’t read too much into it.”
Still, a sense of unease blanketed the squad, and the entire company, as they prepared to depart. The wagons were finally loaded and the last supplies strapped to their backs when the weak sun finally broke through the mists. Slanting rays of orange and gold filtered through the pine needles and bare branches, catching on the frost and filling the trees with sparkling lights.
The sunlight revealed something else, too. Something the mists and gloom had kept hidden before, but now, bedecked in dew and shining like stars, they called to the ponies below, and silence fell on the company as every head turned up.
Webs, enormous webs, stretched like sails between the trees. Acres of them tangled the branches and bent the trees’ crowns low. Lacy sheets fluttered in the breeze, dangling from cables as thick as Vermilion’s leg. Dead, feathered shapes hung among them, spooled round with white cords.
* * *
It was a testament to their training that nopony panicked. Instead, very slowly, the entire company moved out from beneath the webs and onto the path. They even took the time to bring the wagons, though every moment Vermilion spent under the webs seemed to stretch on for hours. The major was the last one to step onto the path after personally counting every nose.
The path itself was free of webs, though throughout the forest they could see them now, illuminated by the morning sun. Nowhere were they as thick as the clearing, but nowhere was empty of them either. They were as much a part of the forest as the trees and the mists and the sense of endless solitude that had haunted Vermilion since they crossed the river the morning before.
They spread out along the path. Unicorns and pegasi took up positions along the edge of the forest, horns and spears pointed outward. Vermilion stayed a few paces behind them with Quicklime at his side. The other earth ponies took up positions with the wagons behind the warriors. They settled in, and silence returned to the morning.
An hour later, they still hadn’t moved, ready to attack or defend against anything up to and including giant spiders, if only one would show up. The adrenaline that had surged through Vermilion’s veins since they saw the webs had long since vanished, replaced by a nervous energy that burned in his legs.
Buckeye left a few minutes later, walking down the line to join the major. She huddled with the squad leaders around a wagon, and after a moment Buckeye waved back at them and pointed at Quicklime.
“I think they want you, ma’am,” he said.
“Um, okay. Come with me?”
“Uh.” Technically, he shouldn’t. He should stay with his team, to back Zephyr and Cloudy up. But Quicklime was in his team too, so… “Yeah, sure.”
Buckeye frowned when they both arrived, but the major spoke first. “Good, both of you. Do you think this is it?”
Quicklime nodded. “This seems in line with the reports we’ve read, and I don’t know what else could have made them.”
“How old are they?”
Quicklime bit her lips. “I don’t know, ma’am. I don’t even know how we would tell.”
“They’re old,” Vermilion said. He’d meant to say it quietly, but perhaps the silence was more profound than he realized, or pegasus ears were just that good, because the major instantly turned to him.
“What makes you say that, private?”
Everypony was looking at him, now. The entire officer corps. Buckeye’s glare could have set paper on fire. He swallowed before answering.
“The birds, ma’am.”
They turned as one and looked up at the webs. Dozens of tiny cocoons, bursting with feathers, dangled in the webs.
“I see them,” Canopy said. “What about them?”
“They’re geese, ma’am. Geese migrate south for the winter. I haven’t seen one in almost two months.”
Quicklime nodded. “Those must’ve been snared before the migration. So the webs must be at least that old.”
Canopy snorted. “Of course. Luna, I’m an idiot. We just wasted a damn hour.” She turned back to him. “Private, next time you notice something like that, please feel free to come directly to me. Sergeants, get your squads ready, we’re moving out again.”
The huddle broke apart, except for the two of them and Buckeye. The sergeant squinted at him, then snorted. Vermilion could have sworn he saw a smile appear for just a moment.
“Good job, private. But make sure you talk to me before you go to the major. Gotta respect the chain of command. Got it?”
“Yessir.”
“Good. Now, let’s get moving. This place gives me the creeps.”
The company reassembled quickly – ponies stamped at the cold ground, eager to be on their way. They formed ranks on the road, and when they marched it was slower than before, with several pegasi trotting alongside, still with their spears. They kept a sharp watch on the forest.
A few miles later, Quicklime sidled up beside him. “How did you know?”
“Know what?”
“About the geese.”
“Oh.” Vermilion rolled his eyes. “I hate the damn things. They always flocked in our fields, tried to eat everything, left crap everywhere, and they’re mean, too. One of the best parts of autumn was when they finally flew away.”
“Cherry’s an expert on geese,” Cloud Fire added. He had perked up considerably since their hasty wake-up. “I bet he knows more about geese than any pony alive.”
“Shut up.”
Cloud Fire grinned. “So, what’d you do back there? You two giving the major orders now?”
“We just talked about the webs,” Quicklime said. She gave him a little shove with her shoulder. “Nothing’s changed. We’re still going to Hollow Shades.”
“Drat. I thought we might finish the mission early.”
“You got something better to do?” Zephyr asked. She had dropped her gear, putting it in one of the wagons, and carried a spear in the crook of her foreleg. Despite the question, her ears and eyes remained on the forest.
“I’m sure I could find something else. Cherry, what would you rather—”
Buckeye broke in with a growl. “Quiet up there. We’re on a damn march, not a stroll.”
And that was the end of that conversation.
* * *
Vermilion stood on the edge of the path and wondered if it was too late to go back home.
Cloud Fire was at the head of their little foraging party, already twenty yards into the forest. He didn’t walk so much as flit from root to root, using his wings to skate over the carpet of dead leaves. This freed his forelegs, which cradled a short, barbed spear, the weapon of choice for pegasus skirmishers.
“Ready?” Zephyr whispered. She had her own spear out and held it tight against her chest.
“Yeah.” Vermilion let out a long, slow breath. “Yeah.”
And then, before he could hesitate any longer, he stepped into the forest as well.
The fallen leaves beneath his hooves formed a soft, loamy carpet, releasing with each hoofstep an earthy, not-unpleasant scent that recalled memories of playing as a foal on the farm, raking leaves into an enormous pile and then jumping into them with his sister, who giggled and screamed when he tried to catch and tickle her. He froze for a moment, then shook his head to banish the memory and continued walking, following in the path left by Cloud Fire.
There was little underbrush in the forest. They’d walked nearly a hundred yards into the woods, Cloud Fire leading, him in the middle, Zephyr behind, before they lost sight of the path behind them. The gently rolling terrain made getting lost difficult, as long as they returned before sunset. And that, Cloud Fire said, was at least an hour away.
It felt much sooner to Vermilion. The forest’s perpetual gloom fed the shadows and hastened the coming of night.
In four days they had drawn four days closer to Hollow Shades. That was, quite literally, the only metric Vermilion had to measure their progress – the forest here, fifty-some leagues past Gloom’s Edge, seemed identical in nearly every respect to the one they’d entered all those days ago. If it weren’t for the pegasi, whose sense of direction was unerring and beyond his simple earth pony understanding, he’d have thought they were marching in place.
Supposedly, Hollow Shades was only a few dozen miles ahead. They would reach it tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. But that meant at least one more night camping in the forest, and their water supplies were low enough that the major wanted to replenish them.
So, foraging parties. Normally the second-most boring duty a pony could be assigned, only barely losing the competition with night sentry duty. Though, now that Vermilion thought about it, night sentry duty in this forest was actually pretty interesting – every flickering shadow seemed to hide something within, every creaking branch bent beneath the weight of an unknown terror. Night sentries never fell asleep here.
Vermilion stepped over roots and rocks, careful not to twist his hoof on something hidden by the leaves. Up ahead, Cloud Fire alighted on a rotting stump and froze, holding still as a gargoyle, before hopping down and continuing deeper into the forest.
A tree to Vermilion’s left shivered, and his head jerked round to see Zephyr crouching on a branch high above his head, the spear held loosely in her hooves. The steel point danced with a fluid grace, as much a part of her body as her tail. Vermilion would never have said so aloud, but Zephyr’s skill with weapons made Cloud Fire look like a bit of an amateur.
“You doing okay, Cherry?” she asked. Her eyes never stopped scanning the trees.
“Fine,” he said. “And don’t call me that.”
She just grinned. Her wings beat, and she soared ahead, taking Cloud Fire’s place at the front of their little column.
He stayed between the two of them whenever possible. They were better trained, better armed, and of course could fly, though the advantage of that in a forest filled with gigantic webs was up for debate. He had no spear, only a saber in the earth pony style, heavy and thick and meant for chopping, a weapon of strength and power rather than elegance and skill. The hard steel blade was only half-heartedly sharpened – the edge never lasted when used by an earth pony as it was intended.
He turned his head, brushing his chin against the grip. Yup, still there. It was his only bit of comfort.
“Hey, you okay?” Cloud Fire asked.
Vermilion scowled. “She just asked me that. Do I look terrified or something?”
“Well, a little nervous.”
His scowl deepened, and he pushed past Cloud Fire. There was a gentle slope leading down to what looked like a ravine and possibly a creek. The scent of fresh water drifted up to meet him.
Zephyr was waiting for him when they reached it. She flitted to the far bank and took a position between two trees whose overgrown roots dangled over the rocky creek. A trickle of clear water flowed between the stones and pooled in the ravine’s bends.
“Good enough?” Cloud Fire asked.
“Should be.” Vermilion braced his legs and jumped, landing hard on the round river stones. Several cracked beneath his hooves, the sharp reports echoing out into the forest. Zephyr flinched at the sound, her wings rising as if to escape.
He shrugged the barrel off his back and set it on the stones. The creek wasn’t deep enough to simply submerge the barrel – he would have to fill it a canteen at a time. He dug the tin out of his pack, unscrewed the lid, and held it beneath the freezing water. His lips went numb almost instantly, but he held it until the bubbles stopped, then tipped it into the barrel.
It barely covered the bottom. He suppressed a groan and filled the canteen again.
“Hey,” Cloud Fire called down. “How long is this going to take?”
“Less time if you help.”
“Um.” Cloudy watched him refill the canteen and empty it into the barrel. “It looks like you’re doing fine, actually.”
Right. Vermilion bit his tongue and repeated the cycle again.
By the time the barrel was half full, his mouth was too numb from the cold water to hold the canteen. He set it down and worked his jaw a few times, getting the blood flowing again, when Zephyr suddenly jerked upright. Her spear, which she had let dangle loosely in her hooves, shot out and quivered in her grasp. Cloud Fire followed an instant later, his ears straining toward the forest.
Shit! Vermilion hopped to his hooves and fumbled with his sword, managing to slobber on the grip but not much else. He could barely feel the wood handle, and it slipped between his teeth. A sudden rush of adrenaline set his heart to racing, beating so hard it shook his whole body. The gravel beneath his hooves buzzed in time with his pulse.
Before he could draw his sword, Zephyr relaxed. “Sorry, it’s nothing. Just nerves, I guess.”
“What was it?” Cloud Fire asked. He was slower to lower his spear.
“Thought I heard something.” She frowned and shook her head. “Sorry.”
“Something?” Vermilion called up. “What’s something?”
“Just the wind, I guess.” She sighed. “Come on, let’s finish up and get back to camp.”
Yeah, get back to camp. That was an idea Vermilion could support. He leaned down to grab the canteen again when a flicker of movement caught his eye.
There, in the shadows beneath the bole of an overhanging tree, something crawled between the dangling roots. He froze as a spider the size of a house cat emerged, feeling its way forward with long, slender legs that ended in sharp points. It didn’t seem aware of his presence, just feet away in the middle of the ravine, or it simply didn’t care. After only a few seconds it changed its mind and skittered back into the shadows beneath the bank.
Okay. Okay. He forced himself to breath. That wasn’t so big, was it? That was, like, nothing.
Up above, the two pegasi muttered back and forth to each other and gestured out into the forest. He opened his mouth to call up to them.
He never got the chance. Something heavy and fast slammed into him from behind. Hairy, sharp, bristly things wrapped around his shoulders and dug into his flesh. He drew in a breath to scream and nearly choked on the hot, fetid stink rising from his assailant. He managed to shout strangled warning as he stumbled to his knees. The legs wrapped around him tightened, followed by a sudden, crushing pressure just behind his left shoulder.
It’s biting me! It’s biting me! Blind panic took over, and he rolled onto the river stones, thrashing and kicking uselessly. The claws wrapped around his neck loosened, and for a split second he could turn his head enough to see the dark, cancerous shape clinging to his back, studded with hairs and eyes and legs and fangs.
He found his sword with his jaws and tugged, but it refused to budge. A choking, horrifying terror seized him, and he pulled on the hilt harder than he’d ever pushed or pulled or shoved or kicked anything in his life. The wood grip cracked beneath his teeth, leather straps snapped, and the blade exploded from the scabbard, tearing it apart lengthwise. He spun the sword around so fast his neck muscles popped, and the spider went flying from his back, crashing onto the stones. It scrambled, legs flailing at the air, and righted itself. Dark ichor dribbled into the stream.
Vermilion stumbled and tripped over his own hooves, landing with a splash. He scrambled away, about to scream again, when a brown blur flashed in front of his eyes.
Zephyr stood over the spider on her hind legs. She had the spear in her forelegs, thrust down into the horror, pinning it like an obscene butterfly. It twitched, legs scratching at her belly, then curled and fell still.
A crunch of gravel: Cloud Fire landed beside him, spear held ready. It shook in his grip, and for a moment the harsh breathing of all three was the loudest sound in the ravine.
Vermilion swallowed. He tried to speak, but the air simply flowed out past his tongue in shuddering gasps. The world seemed to sway and go gray around the edges of his vision, and he sucked in a deep breath.
“There’s more,” he finally choked out. “In the roots. More.”
Cloud Fire’s eyes danced over to the roots, and he froze for a moment. “Zephyr, up,” he said, and he spun, wrapping a leg around Vermilion’s midsection. His wings beat, and with a sudden lurch they were airborne. Before the deep-seated earth pony fear of not having any hooves on the ground could set in, they were back on land above the ravine.
Zephyr landed on his other side. The head of her spear and a full foot of the shaft were wet and black and dripped onto the leaves.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It b-bit my shoulder. Can… can you see how bad it is?” He didn’t dare turn around himself to see.
Cloud Fire cursed and started tugging at his gear. “Okay, don’t move, I see the, uh… huh.” He paused for a moment, then yanked something off Vermilion’s back.”
“What?” Zephyr crowded forward, but she froze too. Then she snickered.
“I think you’ll be fine, Cherry,” Cloud Fire said. He stepped around and held up his discovery – a dark fang, as long as a dagger and glistening like polished marble, severed clean from the spider’s body by Vermilion’s sword. The tip dug several inches into his rations tin.
“That? That’s luck,” Zephyr said.
“Maybe it just wanted biscuits,” Cloud Fire said. He sniffed at the sliced end and made a face.
“Saved by a rations tin. That’s, like, the most earth pony thing ever.” Zephyr giggled, then glanced down into the ravine and licked her lips. “But, uh, we should probably leave.”
Vermilion nodded. “I second that.” He picked up his sword and nearly gagged at the foul smell rising from the blade. His scabbard was ruined, so he carefully stuck it into his saddlebags.
Cloud Fire peered down into the ravine. “Should we get the barrel?”
“Do you want to get it?”
He swallowed. “No, I want to get the hell out of here. Zephyr, see anything?”
“Nothing.” Her voice came from high above, and Vermilion started in surprise. She’d somehow flown into the branches in the brief instant he looked away. “We moving?”
“Yeah. Fast.”
They didn’t quite flee back to the camp. They weren’t running in fear.
But it was pretty close.