"You hear me!? I hope you choke on all you've pinched off me, that'll be your just deserts!" The angry voice bellowed as I made a run for it.
Ahead of me spanned a barren expanse far and wide. Scraggly tufts of grass gave no care as I zipped them by in their listless crumple out from the craggy arid ground, while emaciated trees that dotted the place ever scarcely with barely a leaf on their twig branches stood content as indifferent witnesses to my misdeeds. Behind me, the cantankerous silhouette of a farmer still raged with a cane waved threateningly in the air, having managed to reach that far from his shanty and meager lot of land on rickety bones. His harvest had been pathetic as a result of the prolonged famine, but a bit of skulking proved his stores were well-stocked and rigidly rationed. It was a veritable oasis in the growing graylands that was becoming of Garriene. And often in such times, desperate people would hoard resources for fear of their lives.
Now a good leech would know to take only enough that the theft wouldn't be noticed in the first place, in case for future pickings. But seeing as I had been careless to lose track of the old farmer's comings and goings, I would have to scratch this place off the prospects map for a while. I would be grilled for this blunder when I’d get back, for sure. But first I actually had to get back.
The way was sparse and desolate with a strange heat lingering in the air, which was surprising since the sky bore no glaring sun to bear down on me. Ever was it like this as I had known it, but nothing had kept me from wondering. Nonetheless desert air did its best to sap me of every wetness it could. Even my blood started to feel dry. The one thing that kept me going was a small shrub known as muscmaloi that grew in endemic clumps across these plains. Its bitter bulbs held pockets of equally bitter juice within, and to scarf the plant bile down all in one go was a sure-fire way to knock oneself out, or at the very least be thrown for a disorienting loop. Our own hardy Petra made good example of that. One thing we had to credit her for though was having the guts to be a guinea pig. Her courageous brevity had proven that taking small sips of its juices at a time was enough to get by in this desert. Albeit the taste was still a bitter pill in and of itself. Nothing one could ever get used to.
I had been walking for a little over a few hours now, skirting the edge of the desert with a few dried-up bulbs clutched in hand. My stride went shaky and vision turned hazy from the muscmaloi juice for dizziness held a firm grasp me as would stupor treat a heavy drunk.
"Oh...umm, beg your pardon...sir. I didn't see you there," I apologized to the disgruntled seeq whom I had walked into. Then again, squinting my eyes clarified the seeq to actually be a craggy boulder. "Ugh, gods. I'm in no condition to walk..."
In a couple more hours of walking, my steps had stabilized somewhat after having left the desert and ran out of bulbs to peruse. But that made me all the more aware of how tired and thirsty I was. My joints creaked and throat retched for a moment's respite, but I couldn't stop until I'd arrive. And there it was, an unmistakable sight drew near. A marker I could never confuse deep in this forest. It was a cover of leaves that draped the side of a very large old tree. By now I could barely stand as I made my way into the hollow behind the cover and down the set of gnarled root steps. But at that point I could not hold myself up any longer. Shortly after touching down to the bottom, I collapsed past a blind corner in the wooded grotto.
There I dreamt of a certain town.
It was a pleasant place draped in pastel light. Loving friends bid me 'hello' at every turn and I lived with cake quite figuratively and literally. Though the sights seemed shorter than usual, they were vivid unlike the gray doldrum days I have grown accustomed to. The taste of food was everything I could imagine and beyond. Its people—while mostly ponies—were wide-eyed and wide-grinned. They were alive and lived in a paradise...
It was paradise.
A short-lived paradise, however. The briefest of reveries for the briefest of naps, and the moment I woke, I had wished sleep took me back into its embrace. With no less than four bulbs wrung dry in my hands, I could have sworn I would have been out for longer. A wetness that pooled at my feet suggested that nap I just had might have not been so brief after all.
“Damnit…how long has it been?” The joints in my limbs creaked and groaned as I got up with the weight of my haul sliding off my back and plopping on the ground. The splash it made rang distress through my ears, and my hands quickly tugged at the sling to keep my haul from soiling further in the mud. Stupid me, I left the entrance open. And not only did I track mud in for that, the goods had fallen into the mud too. After all I had stolen from a good and honest farmer, and I didn’t want this harvest to go to waste.
After patting off what mud clung to the bag before it could seep through, I placed pilfered crop on a nearby shelf made of roots away from the muddy ground and rain. Then I rummaged through my person till my hands found hold of a trinket. A small flat card made of chipped metal. With the trinket retrieved, I retraced my steps out the grotto and out into the open, this time making sure to close the cover.
The old hollowed tree I crawled out from was nearly devoid of green leaves like the sparse emaciated trees from before. Its branches seemed like begging arms reaching out to the sky so that it might have its thirst quenched by generous showers. The forest around me fared no better. Collectively, the exhausted hinterland was as though an oversized prickly bush of barbs and spines that grabbed and pulled so others may be drawn in to join their parched suffering and misery. But it didn’t matter if the rains did come anyway. The soil was tired and jejune, nearly sandy save for the packed loam a few feet down that held steadily draining moisture and nutrients. The forest would die anyway. It would become a jagd in time. Just as Purvama did.
Right then, my tummy grumbled in askance for my neglect. That was enough sight-seeing now. I had seen this place well-enough for over a month. My gaze drifted to a certain direction, as directed by my tummy.
The brush was relatively the same whatever step or direction I chose to take, tousling a small cloud of dirt up not beyond my ankles for every footfall. Twig or dried leaf crunched underfoot, but instead of healthy crackles that told of the life they derived from the trees they had broken off from, they let out tired sighs that more resembled a burned thing that crumbled into ash. These were the usual sights and sounds of this nameless forest, apart from which was nothing of interest. Not even a cony for game or a bird to watch. Yet there was one particular place I needed to see. The one place of interest here.
Past a ditch and a few more minutes of walking, I spied a couple of feral pones grazing on a crummy bush. Damn pest, they shouldn’t be here. Kicking up a mess of dirt and leaves, I gave them a startle with a mad wailing dash whilst flailing my arms. Their ears swiveled towards the ruckus I was making, and with panicked hooves, they galloped off. In the wake of the dust cloud they kicked up, I shook the dirt off myself and huffed a breath in satisfaction. The sight of them disgusted me. Knotted manes and matted coats where lice thrived, accreted teeth crowning a muzzle that harbored a foul stench, ever present veins webbing their eyes red, cracked hooves worn rough in a life spent constantly on the move, and all virtually dumb as rock, ignorant of a single civilized word… But I couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. After all, I was the same as them in a fashion.
Past a turn and another ditch by the crummy bush was the object of my interest. And boy, was it a sight.
It was a lush patch of ground fit to be the small courtyard of a well-off merchant or a busy-body noble, a small verdant oasis that would be envied even in Verdandiel. A garden paradise of our own tucked behind a mirage. A wide circle bench I had fashioned with my very hands crowned the lot in the middle, which I thought was a very nice touch, allowing those seated to appreciate our efforts. Really, the sight would be a small wonder to anyone who saw it in these gray times and days. But we had kept it all well away from any would-be trespassers.
My eyes were drawn to the carpet of lush grass that abruptly stopped at the edge of the lot. I hovered my hand over the perimeter it drew and felt its magick as though it were a greeting for coming back home, in the absence of the others.
The patch had been safeguarded by a wandering hume geomancer we had commissioned—and considering how everyone in these parts hated humes, it was a miracle he had ever taken the job in the first place! The singular ward he spanned around the perimeter dictated clearly where the grass started and ended. The ward was a trisection of three simple spells repurposed for our clandestine agricultural intents. Namely, an elementary illusion, a barrier spell and a weak yet benign siphon spell. Through the three fold interaction of these simple spells all under one hybrid sigil, it had ensured two key conditions. Anything that grew here would never reach past a certain height, and their colors and smells were conveniently masked by a mirage from the gaze of far-off wandering eyes and the nostrils of nearby concerned noses. Though, it never seemed to be a problem anyway, considering our choice of plants. They were never the smelly sort, nor were they very tall. In short, our garden was well-hidden.
The other condition it ensured to meet was the very reason the grass was so green. Even the simple act of feeling the cool and smooth blades of grass under my hands as I waved it over them was refreshing. The nutrients that nourished them were funneled from magicks of other far off plots in nearby towns as well as the leylines that fed into flourishing city of Garriene in discrete and efficient cycles. Such cycles meant no one would notice us, and we wanted it kept that way for as long as possible. They all had lots to spare anyway! What were the chance of them noticing small slivers we were leeching?
As I walked in, my gaze swept over the entire lot and the things that grew vibrant and lively in its spacious confines... It almost looked as vivid and pastel as the dream town...
Regardless of daydreams and the state of the world, so long as with had this garden, our survival was guaranteed here. Here in this small plot of land where we grew all sorts of plants in a neat and organized array.
The hardy trinity was present here. Beans, onions, and taters taking majority of the lot with some newfound roots and tubers on the side for experimentation. They could grow even in grounds that were halfway dried up, but often bore little yields with gaunt appearances and unappealing blemishes. But with water aplenty and magick feeding in from outside, they formed bulges beneath the ground and came out tasty and large. And what's more was that in a special quadrant, there were things that would be scarcely found in today’s dreary market yet still hotly demanded. Things like plump aubergines, cool tea leaves, juicy tomatoes and a low growing vine of zesty peppercorn. The tea leaves were something I had grown particularly fond of, and I had Pleajune to thank for that.
But in the center of the wide circle bench I had placed here for our comfort was another small source of pride of mine. Taking a seat on the bench, I skootched my legs over and looked inward, taking stock of the assorted clump of alba vines and cang shoots tangled in a crisscross mess in the middle of the bench. The others had been skeptical and long dismissed them as weeds at first glance. Yet after a little trial and error, their tummies had grown distended and filled with the tasty stems softened broth of its stew. Further proof of their satisfaction had manifested as off-smelling air passing out through both ends! Not only that, but I had found other uses for the vines and shoots, quickly drying and fashioning them into weaves for baskets, hats and even fire tinder for the leavings too small to make use of. In a few weeks I very well could be able to craft some rope from them, though they currently proved a tad too brittle when dried for the purpose for now.
In any case, we could possibly become self-sufficient in the future, and drop thievery and unsavory trades altogether! Such a future made me shudder with joy. A step closer to the town from my dreams!
The fresh memory of their faces for my contribution came to mind—faces scrunched and loath to admit amazement as they simply nodded their heads in passing recognition. The thought wrapped in haughty nostalgia loosed a chuckle from me as I savored a freshly plucked stem of alba. For now the quick snack abated the rumblings in my belly. I had been the last pink doll to ever crawl out from that well, but they just wouldn't hand it to me even when I had proven I was right. All for some arbitrary sense of seniority. I savored that smug smile that had cracked my lips wide well. And the ghost of that smile that came with the reminiscence was just as smug.
But this was not what I was here to see either. I sighed as I spotted the object of my visit to the garden, filling to the brim.
The reservoir tanks numbered seven in total and were arranged in a neat row next to a line of trees that skirted the edge of the geomanced ward. And they were all overflowing, spilling precious water. The rains had been enough for the gardens. The water in those tanks should have been transferred to our stores below, bucket for sodding bucket. And we had yet to find clean enough pipes in these forsaken graylands to channel it straight to our hidey hole. Seven one thousand litre tanks were barely enough to support all thirteen of us over a week. It was my assigned chore once I'd get back should the others still be away, a vital chore no less. I could already hear their yells and blames howling in my ear. They would grill me for this, I was certain.
It was then I took notice of a small warmth in my pocket, for which my hairs stood on end. It reminded me the other thing I needed to check, and my mind stood in attention. Bringing the small metal card up just above my eyed, I placed it in direct view of the graylight.
It was a salvaged sheet of magisteel, a magicite alloy capable of holding small charges of light as energy. But then one day it had been as if the very ore itself lost all will and confidence in its existence, gradually losing their ability to reliably hold a charge. In time, the amazing technology of that era slowly became a thing of the past, and the once glorious airships that yet piled the skies had all come to rust and eternally rest in the wastes, never to roar to life and fly again. At least that was what the old crochety mog had told us. As melancholy as it had been to all tinkering mogfolk like him, we had bore no yearning, for we were not of that Age. And then as luck would have it, Pyria had found some use may yet be derived of the faulty magisteel. That they could still be used to the gauge the passing of the day, a trade secret she had pried from the drunken lips of an off-guard time mages. In a country where the time of doldrum days were both scarce and hard kept by the masses themselves, such ingeniously crude device was especially handy for those who could not afford time-watching services and even measured candles. That doubly applied to dolls like us, those who were not only considered outcasts but also a commodity to be traded.
The graylight fell upon the card and seeped through as a mildly dimmed spotlight before slowly turning opaque. On the scale Pyria had assessed from zero to nine, the brightness was between six and seven… My heart sank and turned heavy as lead when I remembered that every number away from zero measured roughly three hours... I was out of it for nearly a day! This was not good, not good at all. At least the garden was fine, but I had to get back to the hideout quickly and secure—
I had spoken too late. The leafy curtain in front of the grotto had been torn down, laying as a defeated banner of a besieged castle on the muddy ground as the showers abated.
I was not alone anymore.
...
...
Deep breath.
...
“Tempered mettle, Parnella. Just as Piper told you,” I assured myself in a whisper while breaking off a sturdy branch of a nearby tree. “The others are away on a job, but this is all within your control… Yensa and baknamy scouts oft wander these parts, and that can't be helped at all! They just can’t resist all those tasty vegies we’ve safely locked. Ahaha!" A hysterical chuckle escaped me as I braced myself in the face of the situation that had suddenly spiraled out of control.
Leading with a step over the fallen cover of leaves, I stared down into the depths of the grotto expecting the worse.
Even from here I could already hear the intruders causing a ruckus as they rummaged through our things. With as gentle a touch as possible, I landed my foot on the first step down the rooted stairs, which still caused a slight creak anyway. The sound made me cringe. The ruckus below relented at my meager disturbance, petering out as off-chorded shushes sounded off in the now wary underground. A tension settled and turned the air cloying. As then another weight caught in my throat, I gulped it down to join the first one. The anxieties it bore made my feet fat in treading down the stairs, and my arms shaky even with the weighty bat of a branch in hand. What part of this was any good in the first place!?
“I should just run, I should definitely run away now,” I mouthed voiceless, losing half my spirits at this point.
They knew I was here now, and even isolated fringe races like the fidgety baknamy and wary yensa would readily make contact with others for the chance to trade a single doll off for oodles of goods . They would chase me till I walked my feet off and died of exhaustion. But the others had counted on me! I had been tasked to keep the hideout safe once I got back, and what had I done? Fallen asleep at the door and let these intruders waltz right in! My fears were cast aside by a stronger feeling of shame that I had ever considered running away without doing what I could. At the very least I had to get scope of the intruders. If I could get a count of heads, I could meet up with Piper at the Sphrom outpost and tell her the bad news. Said outpost wasn’t too far off, only a couple of hours at most by foot. After that, it was either regroup and strike back or scrounge about for another sanctuary in this slowly dimming world. Such was our dogged lot in life.
But I wouldn’t let it go just like that.
Anxieties were spurned with each creaking step down the stairs, for in the face of all our hard work being taken from us, a trembling trepidation took root with in me. We had carved out this place by tooth and nail, on our blood, sweat and tears… Those intruders at the bottom of the stairs, scavengers in our hideout…as completely alien their faces seemed to me, their lot was certainly cut from the same ragged cloth as ours. Even as I was not two steps away from touching down to the muddy bottom of the grotto, I couldn’t help but think how equally or even more so desperate these fringe dwellers were.
But that didn’t change anything. They were them and I was me. Even if it meant carving a path straight through them, I had cast my lot with Piper and the others. I couldn't imagine where I would be without them. I'd die before I let them down.
Deep breath... Deep breath.
…
All I needed to do was take one peek past the blind corner and see what I could make of the place and whoever was raiding it. Just one cursory peek and I was out of—
A strong thrust of a hand preempted my head just as I peeked into the dark corridor. Mind taken in a daze, my vision nearly blacked out on me. A bundle of arms rushed out the darkness and grabbed me in my discombobulated state. They were quick to gag my mouth and bind my arms and legs. Apart from dragging down my legs as they pulled me into now unfriendly territory, I was now completely helpless.
Had been minutes or hours now? The place was still dark but that was no surprise since yensa were dark dwellers who churned through sand, and the crafty cutthroat baknamy knew to fashion night lenses from glass-like yensa eyes. It couldn’t have been more than a day. The bruise on my head still throbbed fresh with pain. Whatever the case, I could hear them whispering, their skittering steps surrounding me on every side. They snickered and sneered with hisses, because they knew my worth in the market. There was no escape.
“Go ahead…” I whispered in defeat. “Chop me up and proffer my entrails to the highest bidder.”
They quivered and buzzed even more around me, eager to do just that. It was the most obvious thing to do... Or they could fork me over through wholesale at ten times the price. The ruckus their bickering caused turned nearly indiscernible from magickal static, but then a current of air rushed out from the spot before me. Their leader huffed, demanding silence and undivided attention. I could feel its crabby eyes regarding me coldly.
“You won’t get anything from me!” I defiantly yelled as the leader drew near. With hardened claw hands, it yanked at my hair, pulling me closer. The yensa leader held a blade sharpened on sandstone up to my throat, and with a nick at my skin, I could feel the drop of blood well, readily running down its edge.
“I won’t rat out the others! They are my friends."
Tears began to swell from my eyes, and I felt them run down my face as their sniggering and buzzing stopped.
"My family!”
This was the end for me… With trembling heart, I gave in and awaited the rest of the edge.
…
…
…
“Um…Piper?”
…
“What is it, Pearl?”
…
“Don’t you think we’ve taken this too far?”
…
…
What the hell?
The edge of the blade relented and was drawn away. A snap flicked off at the throw of a switch and the lights of our grotto flickered to life. The bright glare caught me unawares, causing me to blink repeatedly. As my vision settled and adjusted, my eyes swept over the ring of cloaked dolls who surrounded me. Behind the yensa masks they had freshly looted, all of them sported slightly different pink manes of varying length and style while some bore some scars or identifying marks on their faces. Their lips cracked in smirks, but apart from Priscilla to my right, Palomina beside her and Pearl who stood beside Piper in front of me, it seemed everyone else took enjoyment in seeing me squirm.
…
“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!!?”
Their sneers evolved into chuckles as I loosed all the wind from my lungs. Why was this funny!?
“I see you’ve kept to the mantra, but not your orders, Parnella. It’s punishment, as plain as your eyes see,” Piper chimed in with a deadpan line on her face. She hadn’t even let a peep out when the others laughed, and their sniggering ceased when our leader continued speaking. “Not only did you leave the cover open and collapse right at the front door on your watch, you also neglected to transfer our reserve water from the tanks above to the stores below. What's more is that all you have to show from that old farm is this paltry sack. A pathetic return, love. Simply pathetic,” Piper tsked while holding up the bag that I had brought back.
Her delivery was a stern and cold knife that cut clean through my anger. The scrunch in my brow eased and teeth ceased to grit and gnash. My mistakes were laid bare on the table, mistakes that could have very well lead to the death of us all.
“At the very least, that sorry look on your face tells me the lesson’s been etched well and good into your thick skull. Honest-to-goodness Urutan Yensa would have done worse and skinned you alive at this point. Consider yourself lucky.” I barely nodded in acceptance of my mistakes. There was no denying my carelessness.
In a moment, Piper drew a long and tired sigh. “Well, that’s that, loves. I’ll be having a bath. All this grit and sand will need a thorough scrubbing to get off my coat.” She sheathed the blade and turned, tossing the weapon, her coat and the mask scrounged from a yensa corse onto her bed before heading for the washroom… Wait a second…
“B-but!” At my words, she cast a sharp gaze upon me, causing everyone to shrink. “I hadn’t transferred any waters to the reserves. There should only be enough water left for a couple of days!”
Piper laughed as she continued walking to the washroom, waving off to the others.
They all joined in her merriment in a round of chuckles while unequipping gear as Pearl drew near and covered the bleeding nick on my neck, explaining all the while. “We apologize for the charade, Parnella. The afternoon had passed well enough by the time we returned. You were just there all this time, and Piper simply insisted we all do this.”
Unbelievable. "What?"
"You were out like a light!" Palomina chimed in with a smirk and pat to my back before cutting my bonds loose. The gesture was lost to the shock that held a firm grasp on me. "You didn't even budge the whole time we walked over you and toiled away to get the pipes running right and proper. Which meant those sodding buckets were none for your worries at all!"
And then Priscilla peeked meekly into our huddle. "The whole chore itself was a load of clothes, don't you think? Walking back and forth a quarter of a mile to empty those all tanks with just buckets by yourself, you wouldn't have finished in time for the morning rains."
"Piper did go a bit too far, didn't she, girls?" Pearl continued while dressing my cut. The other two nodded in agreement. "But she only ever has our best interests at heart. You know this, don't you, Parnella?"
While Piper’s stern hand hadn’t knocked me out earlier, this revelation ensured that I did. My world swirled at dizzying speeds as I collapse on the floor a sobbing mess.
"Oh, the poor dear,” Priscilla exclaimed with alarm. The last faces I saw before my vision gave out were that of the three dolls who tended to me.
Damn them… Damn them all.
A wheezing…cloying cold pervaded.
...
My voiced groaned… “Oooooohh.”
...
I had come to in darkness. It nibbled and gnawed at my flesh, my very being.
“Aaahh, stop…please!”
It was incessant and unending, so painful, so heavy…so oppressive…
And then a thought came to mind. Was there anything wrong? Wasn’t this the order of things, to rest in the coming darkness and return to its depths at mortal coil’s end? Was it really all that or did I simply not want to be here… and feel all of this?
An opening of light cut through the darkness, a creaking sound preceding as its radiance unfurled. With its brightness and warmth, my groggy senses were roused from the lull of darkness and turned fearfully sober. There were haunting shadows all around, the sight of them filling my gaze wherever I looked. Hope and despair entwined as the coldness in my breast began feeling all too alien. My lips parted against mind and body in utterance.
“No…not yet!”
...
This voice...it wasn't mine, yet I had heard it somewhere before.
With seared and crackling limbs I crawled out from the cloying muck I found myself in. I was aware enough to realize I did not want to be here anymore…but it all felt so distant and far away. Fingers gaunt as bone clawed into the mire as if they’ve never felt a thing to grasp upon in ages, and a dormant ache flared with such intensity in my legs past the cold as they geared and churned along the desperate locomotions of a crawl. Every part of my body cried in agony and every fiber of my soul begged for respite the light offered…and yet, I was numb. Not only to the darkness, but to my own plight as well.
Beyond will and intent, my body moved and my voice haggardly droned on, repeating those words over and over. “Not yet…not yet…not yet!” There was nothing I could do but watch as it all coldly unfolded without me. Which begged the question…
Was I truly awake…or was this another dream?
Whatever the case, it had seemed to take forever crawling out of the darkness, toward the door of light that promised respite. The distance closed inch for excruciating inch, and the pain of it all only seemed to amplify as my eyes adjusted and the glare of the light receded. Gone was its radiance as I crawled pathetically into the confines of an unoccupied room. The meager detail of its grey stone walls and the pleasant dresser and bed affair that presented itself were lost to my addled senses. Across the half-open window that let a golden light in to modestly swathed half of the space, a large chunk of green crystal stood in the shadows by the door.
“Falsehood,” the voice groaned as I past the bed to continue my crawl. I was headed for the crystal, whose base glistened in what little rays of light meekly caressed the foot of its mass.
“Yet again…another falsehood...”
Once more the ghost of misplaced familiarity gnawed at the back of my mind. I had definitely heard this voice from somewhere before, and not too long ago at that.
The closer I drew to the crystal, the more I could make out the reflection of a face over the murky shadow became evident in its core...it was that person from that night... I as seeing what she saw!
Her face was slightly longer yet early skeletal and gnawed black in splotches dotting her face, likely for the time spent in that...that unspeakable void. She was the spitting image of Mergo, and were it not for the horns on her head, the angry red irises of her eyes and the darkened pallor of her skin, I would have mistaken her for a long lost sister. Either that or her skin had been dulled by the murky crystal's core, which contrasted the beautiful luster of its outer facets into with a dense cloud of impurities. No, wait...not a cloud. The more I looked, then more I could see the crystal wasn't just dark or murky. There was a figure floating in it. Someone was trapped inside!
Having crawled up to crystal, my arms and legs moved to pull at the crystal and prop my body up against it. Her bony hands grasped for purchase on the crystal's facets, a trembling force telling of a desire to crush the rock into a pulp where it stood. “How could you do this to me…how dare you lie to me again…Midlight!”
There it was, that off-sounding nickname Mergo made of our family name. And the mention of the name, my mind’s eye drew wide and lidless, keen to paying attention.
“You did it again!... Gone and split yourself some…other face, have you? And while my back was turned!”
Her gaunt yet ghastly clawed hands crumpled over the crystal in her desire to be rid of it as her legs shakily kept up stance. I could feel her frustration. The simple act was exhaustive beyond belief. Even as she forced us to stand to full height, our back couldn’t muster a steady stance and so slumped to a wizened and tired arc, bringing us down to eye level of the one suspended in the cry.
"Tell me, Midlight... Is this one another face...you've invented? Another ruse as Mergo runs away...or some beguiled by-stander you've dragged into our mess?" This was definitely the person that had come to collect Mergo that night. But who was she exactly? Who was she to Mergo, and who was this Midlight?
Past the green discoloration, I could make out the figure frozen in the crystal. She bore a pastel purple coat, a pair of auburn eyes resting behind heavy lids, and a horn sticking out from her head and breaking through her dark indigo hair. There as still and cold as the emerald that suspended her, my body stood lull and listless. My face was serene and unmoving in the stasis, suffering neither trouble of the mind nor disturbance of immediate angry growling.
I was here yet I was also there...
It was all so confusing…yet wasn't. Red eyes over yellow irises reflected on the green surface as my mind’s eye regarded my own resting visage. My own self was tangibly present and familiar yet distant and foreign at the same time.
For a brief moment, I saw it...it all made sense...
It was perfect.
When our throat turned coarse and wet when something wet ran down it chillingly, causing our body to shudder. I didn’t think it should be doing that. Blood stayed inside the body, yet on I spoke.
“I don’t care…how many faces you make! Even to the end of time, even after the darkness swallows everything, I’ll hunt you down…I'll rout you out from whatever hole you’ve stuck yourself in! And when I do—“
The doorknob clattered as it turned, and the door creakily swung open.
A tall elegant figure stood in the darkened hallway, away from golden afternoon light. Draped in gracefully designed robes, her emerald eyes gleamed in a predatory gaze.
“You…”
“Oh… Mewt, there you are. What auspicious timing, we were just looking for you,” she said with a condescending smile. As she adjusted the crown that shone dully on her head, all doors and windows shut to a close with bang as she entered. A low chuckle escaped her as she approached. “There is a matter that direly requires your presence.”
“Insufferable tyrant—!“
With a wave of her hand, a force beyond sight launched us into the wall, causing a crack to run across it at our impact. Clattering down as would a bag of bones, we had no strength with which to put up resistance. Barely craning our head up in spite of the pain, the graceful stranger stepped closer when she was certain I would not be getting up.
“Fret not, fret not. I've no curiosities left for your Madmoon heritage and heresy. Still, we mustn’t dilly...” With open arms she greeted us, a sinister light pouring forth from her hands. The light skittered and dance in ethereal echoes till they met in an arc and connected eagerly, forming a luminescent length of chain. “Or dally. As you always say, haste is key.”
Securing the chain around our neck, it burned and seared our flesh, yet my host had even not the strength to muster a scream. Following a quick glance to see it was on good and tight, she turned and pulled on the chain, dragging us across the floor.
“What say you, dearest Mewt,” he managed past maniacal laughter.
“How does butterfly hunting tickle your fancy?”
The fiasco had passed. When I woke the gray day was in the middle of ceding to the coming of its equally gray sibling night.
Climbing my way up the branches of the big old hollowed tree, a pleasant scent wafted faintly from my coat. An odd detail to take note of, seeing as I had come straight from bed. The others must have given me a wash in the meantime. I should thank them for that, but then again after what they just put me through, maybe not.
Refreshed, I sat a hard yet comfy seat on hard grizzled branch. Its bow stuck out from halfway up the old tree at a high enough elevation to afford me a view just above the forest canopy. As the indecisive hue that barely resembled twilight evolved, I regarded nothing but the gray murk in the sky, secretive and reserved as always of the stars or lack thereof that hung behind it, and the audacious glowing patch in the horizon that gaudily demanded my attention...well, at least that was what I felt. The twilight wasn't supposed to be this bland, this lifeless. Dreamy sunrises and sunsets had told me so. On the other hand, I didn't have much to say of the strange glaring lights that shot out from the far-off city of Garriene, even after a fortnight of seeing it so well. Aside from what rumors already said of it, that is.
Word had spread that they had found an entirely new source of magick, or that they've struck gold in some risky expeditions to the old jagds or a previously undiscovered necrohol. Whatever had been the case, the resplendent light that gushed from the city and bled into the gray night sky told of the festivities that went on without end and the appalling indulgences they partook off as if the gray days were counting to an end. Like everyone else who cast a wistful or lazy gaze on the distant golden speck in the horizon, I too was curious of Garriene's sights and sounds. The others were just as curious. The odd one out this time seemed to be Piper. She had only ever looked to the city to use it as a point of reference, a north star in the absence of an actual north star in the empty canvas in the sky. Whatever a north star was. Regardless we all had expressed some desire to come upon the city. Even just to see it at a distance, to sate out curiosities. But she would always argue against the notion.
The creaking of bark and wood caught my ear, and I turned to see Piper and Pearl coming up to join me. The former contented to leaning against the trunk of the tree, indifferently munching on a sprig of alba, while the later scooted a seat beside me, her attention rapt on my disposition.
"Ummm, Parnella?" Pearl began, laying hand on my shoulder. I turned away, not wanting to catch a glimpse of neither of them.
"Please, Parnella. Look at me in the eye at least. I can't apologize properly otherwise."
Pearl was the sweetest and most sincere of us dolls. It would be no fleeting sentiment on my part to say she kept heart for all of us. As Piper is all too aware, weathering the hardships of the trying doldrums could turn the most sympathizing souls numb. Spying a glance at our leader, she held her gaze over me with a calculating and scrutinizing eye. It was typical of her, to never switch off.
"I'm sorry for what happened," Piper offered astutely, her words nearly passing in one ear and out the other. "But it had to be done. Blunders should never be let go on the passivity of thought, lest the lessons they bear be lost to the wayside of thought itself."
Seeing the smile and encouraging looks I got from Pearl, it was as refreshing as a ritzy scented bath to hear Piper apologize for once. Ever rarely did she apologize to any of us.
Hmm, at least she was trying. "Who told you that?"
"Oh, just some words of wisdom from gem cobbler after a stint. Gave me a peculiar gem for my troubles, he did." She returned with a genuine smile. I couldn't say Piper didn't apologize, and at least I could appreciate that.
"Then all that grief you gave me, I couldn't possibly manage all seven tanks by myself before the morning showers, could I?"
Piper stepped off from her lean on the tree trunk and raised her arms to stretch out. "Of course not, love! The point was to see if you would follow orders." After speaking that, she came close and joined Pearl and I on comfy seat on the branch of the tree. "And seeing as you had passed out at the doorstep and not lifting a finger, I'd have had you thrown out, were it not for your meager thievings and help in the garden.
Pearl aptly facepalmed for Piper's reply. "Oh, dear."
"You cheeky..." I shook my head and chuckled at her stubbornness. Piper was never one for sappy moments.
"What you meant to say was, 'I sincerely apologize for dragging your through the mud like that, and I hope you'll find it in your heart forgive me for the grueling punishment.' Am I right, Piper?" Priscilla theatrically read off with an artsy hand in the air. Looking down, we saw her, Palomina and everyone else looking up from the base of the hollowed tree, having come from picking dinner at the garden in all likelihood. It seemed they had eavesdropped on Piper as she spoke her bit. Seeing them all here like this--the less time we spent doing unsavory deeds just to get by, the more it seemed that dream wasn't too far away anymore.
With a wave of her hand, Piper dismissed the sniggering lot.
"Hey, whatever works, you sorry lot. Now get your asses inside and get on with dinner! I'll be with you all shortly."
The others headed down the steps, their minds and voices keen to murmurs and idle banter as much as their stomachs were to the thought of a hearty meal. When they had all headed inside, the three of us were left gazing at the gray sky. We sat there content in feeling the whatever wandering breeze came our way. And when a particularly bright spotlight flashed an errant ray from the golden city of Garriene and caught our attention, Piper broke the silence.
"I know what you're thinking, Parnella," she said in an all-knowing manner.
"Oh, really now? If you're thinking that it's about time you all treated me with respect regardless of my 'age' then yes, you know what I'm thinking."
She stood up, not heeding the sass I tossed her way. "That it is about time we gave up this scavenger's way of life. Find a way that is honest and decent."
My ears shot up straight at the exact words she said and the idea it conveyed. I looked back to Pearl to make sure I wasn't just hearing this all in my head, and sure enough she was just as rapt as I was.
"It's always been a dream of mine since coming to this sad gray world," she admitted to the both of us as she twiddled her thumbs. I had never heard Piper speak so honestly to anyone before, much less myself. And the look Pearl had about herself told me moments like these were far and few between. "We all have them sometimes. The others speak of it in whispers, but they just don't show it. Dreams of a pleasant place."
I wasn't surprised, that the others, Piper especially, would want for a life better than this. Anyone in our scrounging predicament would want so as well. But to share a dream for a future lived in peace...it felt rallying and unifying. That we were destined to find and raise each other up together.
"To live in kindness, beget similar warm sentiments without fear of ill intent and scheming." Her face crumpled into glower as her tone turned from cheery and hopeful to bitter and hard. "But sadly...we cannot. Dolls like us are nothing but debris to the masses. Silver water given shape and form yet still so easily malleable...and dispensable. Such is the cruel reality we were thrown into. We can only live by the hand we've been dealt."
It was the thought that I had always known...but never wanted to truly admit. A truth none of us could ever completely accept. It was why we survived all this time. It was why we were sitting here at all.
"But maybe someday, things will change."
Standing up, Piper gazed upon the gleaming city of Garriene as Pearl and I regarded her. "Perhaps if we simply go off to meet it, we wouldn't have to wait for that someday to come."
Together the three of us looked on over to the golden city in the distance, not for the hearsay that floated about over idle prattle, but for the future it foreshadowed. A bright future that only awaited claiming. It seemed so far off in the horizon...yet already I could feel it in my grasp.
"That would be very nice," I replied, caressing the golden possibility in my hand.
We stared at Garriene for a little bit longer, indulging in daydreams silenty. Then we shared our daydreams on our way to dinner, eager to liken the details. The veggies cooked up were delicious and filling. The sleep that followed was restful and lacked of nightmare.
Our home was smack dab in the middle of nowhere, and our way of life was a veritable purgatory. But all in all--even after the lynching they put me through, it was a good day.
My vision flickered...swimming about in a palette of dull and drab colors.
My mind was heady and shaken. The reason for which I guessed had been the harrowing ride that took me for a tumble down the mountain side.
"Ooooh...my everything..."
Though I wasn't awake for any of the in-between, I was thankful for the nostalgic reverie of a dear memory. For which a tender sigh escaped me.
Not that I deluded myself of recent events, no. Their truths hitched on sobering brisk air, keen on keeping me awake and away from rejoining my blissful dreams. Yet their reminders hadn't made my past any less true. Her words then still held great sway in my heart, a yearning for the idyllic life of peace surrounded by friendly faces. We all had shared that dream in the beginning, but time changed people. I don't know what changed her, but I would sort things out with Piper in time. Why did she betray me? What happened to the others? And where did her determined and focused gaze go? Thoughts turned to the old myths earnestly recounted by missionaries, whose tales set this undeniable cornerstone in our want.
Landscape and riches of Equestria were tantalizing and the stuff of legends, after all. Yet the great cataclysm of Yore had wiped out all the settlers the moment they set foot on the land of temptations, lured by promises of paradise. It was the parable pharist missionaries favored and often lead into over the course of their sermons, a cautionary tale telling of the droves of infidel Pones who had foolishly taken heed to the words of the hateful Humes. Briefly did my thoughts drift over to my wriggling bound hands, my feet that resembled the ghost of a hoof, and the upright form of my body. Ironic that the term so decidedly coined for this convenient form--a necessary form following the great cataclysm and the waning of magick--was the derived word, 'humanoid.'
In any case, I was never an ardent believer of Pharism. Their tenets would do me no good now.
With that tangent concluded, various sensations began to register more vividly, and I found myself lucid in the waking world. As previously noted, my arms and legs were in a bound state once more. A discomforting inconvenience at best. What surprised me more were the sights and the sounds that surrounded me.
Having arrived in a new world that seem to come out of nowhere, I was perplexed to find myself having been chucked in a fairly new wooden cage. A mellow light shone from a lamp that hung across the room, basking everything in the room in its soft though inadequate glow. The room I found myself in seemed to be a supply tent stocked with crates, barrels and all manner of goods. All of which had been propped over honest-to-goodness healthy ground, the thing that caught my eye the most. And none of the drained ashen dirt that littered the Aerie, mind you.
I almost couldn't believe my eyes. Were the lighting of the place any brighter I would have stared at every detail that stuck in and out from the ground, every pebble, every root, every drop of dew, every blade of grass and whatever brave bug dared to skitter out in front of me. But the lamplight waned dimly for a lack of oil. And with my hands as they were, I had to settle for just the smell. It was all so wholesome and lovely just like that little garden patch we used to have. Oh I would dream of the days when I had popped by at leisure and sampled a bite from every plot for a midday snack, and the few times I had of napped the day away on that bench were a great luxury. Ah, those had been the days.
My stomach grumbled with my wistful longing for happier yesterdays. At the very least I wished that the grass was tall enough for me to graze off of--as desperate as I was--or that I could free a hand to at least rub my empty belly in consolation. Alas, neither were the case. Having not eaten in over a day, pangs of hunger were already upon me. Forget about picking the locks on the cage even if I could wriggle free of my ropes. I didn't even have my tools. Hungry and helpless, the only solace I had was a small tear in a seam of the tent that opened right by an odd sack they had left with me in the cage. Crawling up on my sides, I scurried over to the tear in the tent, not minding the sack at all.
A gentle cold light bled in from the outside. Just seeing the band of light cut a color other than gray across the yellow lamp light of the interior was enough to catch my eye. Peeking through the tear to the outside, I was beside myself for the gentle and unimposing hue it imparted over all it touched. Mind you, what I could see was mostly just another tent and some more crates across the way, covering most of my view. Oh how I wished I could reach out past the wooden bars and rend the tear larger, if only to see a bit more of the jungle that stood but a stone's throw away. Nevertheless, I marveled at the sight. It was neither stifling nor stagnant like the gray I had come to know. It seemed to be the middle of the night right now, judging by the lack of hustle and bustle from outside. And oh, it was a beautiful night. How I wished I had come upon this setting under better circumstance. With nothing better to do, I laid my head on the sack, reserving curiosity on the silky pink fleece they left beside it for later. All I could do was rest my head over it and wait for someone to come and treat with me.
'I wonder how long I've been out?' I thought to myself as I dug comfortably into the sack with the back of my head.
And then the thought occurred to me.
'What kind of cutthroats would be so considerate as to provide their prisoners with a pillow to rest their weary heads on?'
Even if this were just some sack of goods, they wouldn't be so careless as to leave it within my grasp. That was when I realized something. The sack I had laid my head on was warm and fluffy...and it stirred unbidden. The small peculiarity gave me cause to rouse up and regard the thing my head just laid on. Turning around hinged by curiosity, I nudged the sack by the skin of my nose.
There, I came upon an unbelievable sight. An unbelievably… cute sight... as far as I could see in this light, that is. I wished I could see her face more clearly.
Craning her sleepy head up, she yawned an adorable squeak of a yawn fit for a chocobo chick, not that I had ever seen a chocobo before. Her yellow coat, had definitely reminded me of the cheery fowl. In the mellow lamp light, she would have blended with the rest of the crates, barrels and sack, were in not for being in the cage with me. It seemed the trailing pink fleece her mane and tail all along. Even more surprising was the pair of beautiful wings that sprouted off her back, struggling to splay out beneath the straps that bound them to her barrel. Such a pity, it was, as had been the case of any winged creature. Those flappers were far too small and wouldn’t hold her up more than a half meter off the ground for a few seconds. Lacking the beak and talons that would have made her a griffon, a closer inspection let take note of the muzzle and floppy ears. She was definitely a pone like me. A feral pone to be exact, but not quite like the feral ones I’ve seen. She certainly resembled nothing of monstrous Sleipnir, though she bore hooves as they did. Her rear hooves in particular had been shackled to a chain staked into the ground that kept her from escaping, and another link leading to a heavy ball for good measure. She clutched the metal ball as though it were a rag doll. The hooves were the obvious giveaway that she hadn’t been given her rites yet either. But what was a feral pone doing here in this new world? Native or not, finding one here was certainly a surprise. It amazed me that she had only been roughed up as little as she had been. Was she someone’s pet? It wasn't unheard of that a noble or other eccentric type would take one in for such purposes...or was she some rare breed, her essence akin to the literary unicorns that were free-spirited, pure, and imparted wisdom to only the worthy?
I had seen my fair share of feral pones before. In-keeping with pones who had received their rites and how other civilized races regarded them, I had instilled in myself an almost superstitious loathing for them I almost never questioned. For a brief moment, my infatuation of her cutesy looks was shadowed by a sense of revilement. I honestly felt disgusted to be in the same space as her. And yet all these thoughts raced in my mind the moment my eyes caught sight of this…peculiar specimen.
It was then I realized she had taken notice of me. In a moment she turned anxious and scared. But something told me this was no ordinary feral pone. My curiosity eclipsed my disgust as I had tossed about to get a better look at her in this dim light, but even the small motion affrighted her into ducking behind the curtain of her pink mane. Her eyes still warily peeked through and kept watch over my every move. She scampered into a corner of the cage, wings eager to shield her trembling form even from beneath their bonds. I continued to fidget my way in advance, which only caused her to backpedal even more.
And then, the unexpected happened. When I was not more than an arm's length away.
There was a glint of familiarity in her gaze. Something about me put her at ease for she neither scampered nor trembled any longer. With chained wary hoof she approached and touched my face. I did not shy away and the glint in her eyes grew. Tears welled. She began to weep. Her voice croaked as she mumbled unintelligibly past heavy sobbing, barely stringing together a jumble of gibberish as she wiped her tears. Poor thing. If only she knew even a single word... Wait a second...she was trying to speak!
"I-I'm sorry, I can't understand a word you're saying," I whispered, hoping no patrol was nearby to hear me. Then I skootched on closer, managing to prop myself on my knees and settle on a squat. "Could you please speak clearly?"
Hearing my words, she stifled her sorrow then hesitantly, she spoke.
"Aehh...aaehhaeha...aaaeehaah."
I could be wrong. Maybe she was just well-trained. For her efforts, she slumped in frustration and rubbed her throat. Then she tried again.
"Eeaaaha...ahheeaaa...ahhhehaaaee...eeaaae...uoooohh."
Her groaning had gone on the same for a few minutes more, at which point I decided enough was enough. It was grating on my ears to hear, however well-intended her non-words were. "Ugh, no! Just stop!" I shouted, causing her to shrink back.
"Are you even trying to speak...or are you just some pet project of a busybody orator?"
My words stung fresh wounds. She gritted her teeth whilst bringing her hoof up again to rub at her throat, but before long she broke into sobs once more. The winged pone craned her head down in defeat, falling in a slump right in front of me. This pone...she was too sensitive to be feral. There was no doubt of that.
"Oh, no. Please stop crying," I called to her attention, and she looked past her mane as she still wept. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to be cruel."
For the simple apology, she opened her arms and took my in a weak embrace, chains clinking as she neared. Her gentle touch reminded me so much of Pearl, and now I regretted ever raising my voice at her. But the something else caught my curiosity, a raw patch devoid of fur.
"Hold on. Can I please have a closer look at your neck?" She rubbed at again before turning her head up and bringing it closer to me. She definitely was intelligent, not just a well-trained pet. Too attentive and responsive to be one.
"These sore spots...no, not sore spots, it's a scar." In the dim light I was barely able to catch notice of the faint yet rough scab that rubbed large across her neck. The large scab was flat and looked as hard as a callous, but nothing about them seemed natural. "This was closed with magick... You've been muted?"
What reason would anyone have to mute a riteless pone, and yet the sigil was missing. Not even a trace of warmth to find. The thought perplexed me with a myriad of circumstances buzzing in my mind.
"Who would do such a thing? Can you recall when the sigil was set on you?" If a sigil had been used at all, that is.
I onced her over as she gathered her thoughts. At first she opened her mouth to answer, but stopped when she realized nothing would come of her dumb mumbling. Her listless gaze swept the ground in pensive recollection to no avail. It was then I caught sight on another peculiarity, a brand on her flank peeking from under her wing.
"Hold on." It was a sigil of some sort. I could not make out its exact detail in this dim light. But what I could infer was curious enough if not queer. Cheery fluffs of pink, a set of three to be precise, or so it seemed. They almost almost seemed to flutter even in stillness, as if their joyful jaunt over the fragrant flowers of an imaginary meadow had been captured in the branding.
"What is this strange sigil?" She kindly brought her flank closer so I could inspect it as well. How thoughtful of her.
I definitely had more questions than that, but it was all I could muster, having not eaten and literally fallen off a mountain.
She gathered her thoughts once more and moved to speak, but stopped short of a pain from her throat which she consoled with a hoof. Frustration seeped from her as she shifted her head and took breath after anxious breath. Voiceless and caged with a stranger, it was another fray in her spirits. She shook head down and let out quiet sobs once more.
So it seemed she was just another prisoner, as I was. "I am deeply sorry. There's nothing I can do."
In the midst of my own exhaustion and her sobbing, this exchange had hinted me to one clue at least. This pone had seen other pink dolls before. She must have. The others could be alive!...or she could have met Piper. Damnit all, my luck's been foul since the other day! Then again, I had no idea how long it had been since she and the two bangaa spirited me from the Aerie. Was this even Sandata's camp?
I cursed inwardly for catering that fleeting hope, and yet I clung to it nonetheless. They could still be alive. Piper must have known what fates our family met, and that was something to look forward to.
What I didn't look forward to was being taken by an uproar of a surprise.
There was a thrum in the air, subtle yet resounding. It was a faint feeling that I would have easily missed, though somehow I felt it. It was there one moment, and then it was gone. Then the next thing followed...no, stampeded. Feeling an immense weight run over and tug at the hair of my tail, a rush of wind surged forcefully behind me. The yellow pone, startled, dove into me for cover. Neither of us saw what had happened, for the canvas of the tent fell over the both of us and the light of the lamp was put out, though I could still hazard a guess. Something had crashed into the tent. It taken half the wooden cage in its wake, with the falling beams and nails thankfully missing us by mere inches. Hehe, lords... Had I still been sitting in that spot...ugh, I shuddered to think about the pain I would have been suffering.
We were both still under the tent canvas when wood further cracked, split and creaked open, followed by coughing and a set of footsteps falling and making their way over the wreckage.
"And you said I'd get myself killed!" A newcomer hacked past his coughs, just outside the canvas that separated us from him. "Well then, look who's NOT crumpled in a puddle of blood and agony, Spike! See well with your eyes who's still alive and kicking!...Spike?... Spike?"
His shadow casted on the canvas that draped over what was left of the cage. He looked around but deflated when he was unable to find the person he addressed.
"Oh, right... Well, onto business then."
The newcomer grabbed the canvas and tore it away. A moon hung brightly behind his back, casting a gentle cold light as he stood there and regarded the yellow pone in particular. The newcomer was built large and wore a light yet spartan hooded uniform that covered him from head to toe. Also he wore goggles and a mask that hid his face.
"There you are. Lucky of me to find you so soon. Now, come away." He leaned in and reached out with a hand, but I put myself between him and the yellow pone in spite of my bound state.
"No one moves an inch until you start explaining yourself!" I wasn't in a position to make demands, but fat chance was there of me sitting idly by.
"I see you have a friend." His hand reaching to his sides, he pulled out a knife and quickly struck without warning. I thought I was dead, yet I felt my neck with my hands and inspected my person to find I was completely unharmed. It had only dawned on me a second later that he had freed me of my bonds. "No matter, she come with us too."
He chuckled amusedly as I rubbed the sore spots left by my rope burns. "Looks like we've another head to count in our cadre. An emboldening turn of events if I do say so myself."
Reaching out to me with a hand, he pulled me up and I took stock of the damage he had done. There was a boulder made of metal and wood that had rolled over the crate, nearly uprooting the large tree that had stopped it. A hatch opened from the side of it, where I guessed he had emerged from. There was a large sigil inscribed on its surface, one I was not familiar with. I could feel an ethereal static emanating from it.
"Quite the disastrous entrance you made," I commented sarcastically, kicking up a piece of debris. "You know, you only missed me by an inch." My index finger and thumb nearly touched in a pinch for that egregious what-if, a gesture he took in stride. "Even ran over my tail you did! Had I been sitting right over there as I just had not a few minutes ago, you could have killed me. And who said I was joining your lot?"
He chuckled at my apparent annoyance. "'Could have' being the operative word, my dear neophyte," he answered past his mask which muffled his words. This arrogant bugger, he was so set on me joining his little club. "The count of casualties is still inextricably zero, miraculously the alarm's yet to be raised, and you both are free from that cage. I'd say the goings have gone quite well."
Oh, my poor tail, it ached. Fret not, I would have words with him later. There were more important things at the moment. "Ugh, whatever. Just help me find something that can break the chain of this yellow one here."
He only nodded as he regarded the winged pone with a peculiar scrutiny. As if she'd struck his fancy. Hmm...
After scrounging through the wreckage that had become of the supply tent, we had found a sturdy enough axe that could break the winged one's chain clean off. Though the manacle still rung around her back leg, she buried her head again in another embrace around me. Tears of gratitude trickled into my ragged clothes, but I didn't mind. They could use a good wash anyway. And we could remove the manacle later anyway.
"Oh, how appalling," said our savior as he dropped the axe in hand. Pulling a piece of cloth out from a pocket, he then removed his mask. "It's a such a lovely night, yet I've broken into a sweat!" The wavy bangs of his apple red mane bounced as he shook his head, and with the cloth in hand he wiped over the yellow fur of his sweaty face. Bringing out a flask, he quenched his steaming self with a hearty swig. From the refraction of the spritz of water that fell from his lips in a cool sigh, his green eyes glistened in the cold moonlight.
It had just dawned on me that the gentleman who had saved us was no ordinary pone. He was just so ruggedly handsome, and he was so very...awful about it! Oh, the nerve!
While the elements indeed fortuitously aligned for his little spectacle, he had definitely practiced this smoldering act. This guy was a wolf with a pone's face. Now way I would fall for this. And yet, a slight warmth radiating near my belly told me someone had... Oh no.
"Don't tell me you've been smitten by this scoundrel, yellow one?" Furiously she shook her head. Seemed my guess hit the mark, and she blush a madder warmth over my belly for my intuition.
"How cruel of you? To only ever address a beautiful creature such as her by a plain unfitting moniker such as...'yellow on,' ugh," he rebuked with a shudder. Hunkering his large frame down, he extended his hand and bid her close with a bulb of gysahl he produced from his satchel.
"Now here's a thought, why don't I call you 'Freesia?' It’s a pretty enough name for one like yourself.”
‘Freesia’ didn’t object so much as her attention laid mostly on his hand. Oh well, it was better than calling her 'yellow one,' I'd give him that. Her approach was meek yet gradual, turning from hesitant to eager at the offer of the juicy green, her bellying grumbling as a reminder. "Seems my hunch was spot on. Dear, you are famished!"
Another grumble sounded off, feeling particularly close, yet no one but I really paid mind. Oh right, offer her some food and not me. It wasn't like I was hungry myself—
“There, there. Don’t you worry, Freesia. The ever trusty Famran here will keep you safe.”
This idiot, how much longer could he keep his back turned!?
“The others shall be pleased to meet you—agh!”
The stone I tossed bounced off him nicely, though I would have to savor wiping that smug face off him later. “You…that hurt! What was that…for…” With a hand to his head, he trailed off and turned pale, seeing what I had pointed to behind him.
With radiant wings flared and aglow, the gleaming visage of armor floated down and clinked as it landed. A righteous aura emanated from its polished off-green steel, harkening to the day I first laid eyes on such fine craftsmanship. But I had no time to ogle. As the knight within moved, plates of form-fitting armor slid gracefully and perfectly over each other, not scraping once through each motion. The knight unsheathed a sword and pointed its tip straight at us. The self-proclaimed 'Famran' had put himself between the knight, and Freesia and I. Though now that I cared to notice, the winged knight didn't seem all that big. In fact the knight was smaller than Famran, perhaps even less than a head taller than I.
"Escape with Freesia! Just run straight into the woods!" He said with an outstretched arm. "I'll buy you two some time!"
The knight was closing in step for step. No words of warning were spoken, simply a furious stare that would distracted. "What makes you so sure we can get away? Other soldiers might be scouting about in patrol! And what about you--"
"Just trust me! I've thought this through," he assured in a glance back. Confidence was in his eyes, I'd give him that.
With no other choice, I had to at least try. Seeing her frozen stiff just right behind me clutching my leg, I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook Freesia to her senses. At the sight of the knight approaching, she erupted into a muttering and panicked mess, but it was right for her to be so. "Snap out of it, Freesia! We have to run!"
At my words she only panicked even more. Freesia backpedaled anxiously and broke out into a run for the woods a short sprint behind us. At least she would get to cover first, so I turned to check on Famran in a glance.
Then there was a pounce just outside my field of vision and a squeal, followed by a crunching thud to the ground. My heart skipped a beat. "Ahaha, just in the nick of time, I see! Nearly skittered from my grasp, you mangy pone!"
I instantly regretted taking my eyes off her for a moment. Tanzan had slunk out of nowhere and pinned Freesia to the ground.
"Aww, did that get you riled, you worthless doll?" He pulled her head up by here mane, a rivulets of blood running from her forehead and nose. She didn't struggle, neither did she move. I couldn't tell if she yet breathed. "There's just no leashing your petty sympathies now, is there? Even feral fodder, the likes of this sad pone is enough to get your heart bleedin,' you fokin' doll, ahahahahaha!"
Anger took over me and I was ready to lunge at the lizard with all my fury. "You bastard!"
But our savior quickly intervened with a bisque orb and threw it down to shatter. Smoke engulfed the vicinity in a smothering wave, causing Tanzan and the knight to cough. I was thankful Famran had given me his mask and goggles, though that meant he was at the mercy of the smog himself.
"This... wasn't the smart choice at all," he regretfully commented past all his coughing. "Seems I have to everything myself, as always."
"No, you don't. My blunders are mine to deal with, so let me--"
"You can't! Let me worry about Freesia," he grunted past whilst gripping my arm. "It's important you escape, Piper insisted it so if I ever found you here!"
My eyes went wide at the mention of her name. Who was this Famran? How did he know her? And what mess did I exactly get myself into? Question after question only added to the pile with no answers in sight. My gaze shifted between the forest but a stone's throw away, and the two other coughing figures who slowly gathered their bearings in the dissipating smoke. At the chances of seeing Piper face to face and getting everything sorted, I hesitantly took the first step. But that meant leaving the both of them behind...
It took a moment's hesitation, but not one more than that... I turned and ran away.
I'm sorry, Freesia.
"If I find one scar on her, I'm holding you responsible!" Behind me, Famran yelled, last I heard of him before slipping into the thicket. "I wouldn't have it any other way, love!"
...
My breath had grown haggard, leaving a raspness my throat. Sweat trickled down all over my body, and I hadn't even had a thing to drink since Sahmad's kindness.
...
Most of all, my battered body ached even more so now, this prolonged run exacerbating what weariness had already borne down upon me. The deeper I went then more the forest in turn grew ever gnarled and unknowing.
...
I couldn't tell how long I had been running, but seeing what little pursuit of lack thereof gave chase, it must have been more than a couple of hours by now. At this point, the air had turned thick and humid.
...
Recalling the hazed disarray I had pointed myself away from, I had run in a straight line and never veered off since. Now my bearings were lost as was my guiding moonlight. It was dark all around me with nary a peep of light shining through the unbroken canopy. And worse yet, I was painfully aware of how helpless I was, wandering blind in this darkness...but not for long.
I had no way of seeing it, but found me nonetheless. Not a trip over stone, nor a low-hanging branch that took me for yet another tumble down. It was impact that met my face with the force of a brick.
"Guooohh!!!"
...
...
...
...
...
The wee hours of the morning were a passing of twilight just as much as dawn and dusk were. Temperatures were quite brisk and cold for it, too. A biting cold enough to gnaw through my fur. For that I rubbed my hand to my chest, hoping it would induce even a fleeting warmth. Such were cold hours usually reserved for ghosts and disembodied sentiments to drift freely as would some pilgrims of the mortal coil wander aimlessly during the trials of the day. Not a soul stirred nor hurried, as all likely had their heads down to fluffy pillows and warm beds, or whatever fared well-enough for a substitute in parts such as these.
Not I, however. I was alone, standing just outside the infirmary.
Regarding the earlier thought, I found it strange to be awake at such hours, when all others would be sleeping, though I had largely gotten used to waking up in the middle of the night over the course of my short yet eventful life. Rather it was neither ghosts nor sentiments that kept me up now. And it was most definitely not of the peculiarity of there being an infirmary at all, considering this nature of the expedition and its...participants. Still it had boggled me nonetheless, that an infirmary was the first building that had been erected on site, carved to the side of a craggy cliff at the foot of the great mountain. It was a fancy that crossed my mind for a few moments, but still a tangential fancy to fill the gaps of boredom.
What had really bothered me so was that it was dark out still, and I should be sleeping. It couldn't be helped. A loud ruckus rocked the outpost and jostled me from slumber not half an hour ago.
My sights had lingered squarely over the curtain that covered the way in. With candlelight in hand, I had ducked my head past the door and saw smoke dissipating over where stocks and supplies should be, over a ten minute walk away. There I had stood, wary for any movement or sign of encroachers, but none had come. The ruckus had only ever seemed to be isolated to the supply station.
…
…
Had it already begun?
…
Or was it just another raid by those crazed changeling? The poor souls.
...
It had been some time. The candle had snuffed itself out in my hand, the wisps of its wake gone in the wind. There I shivered in the cold, eager to return to much needed rest, and yet the birds already were starting to wake and chirp in the trees, not long after the ruckus settled. Their sounds were a veritable miracle of nature to my ears. The woods were so colorful and vivid compared to that of the graylands. Then again now was not the time for daydreams and tangents. I needed to keep alert.
Yet the alarms remained silent throughout the camp. Knight Undaunted must have dealt with the intruders personally, so I returned to the infirmary.
However, even as I climbed back into bed. The confines of the blanket were still toasty, though falling back to sleep had proven difficulty in the face of a handful of distractions. In the midst of a splitting headache, a fresh wrap of bandages rung my head tight, and worry was an ever-sprouting weed in my mind. A subtle throbbing behind my eyes persisted, no thanks to that emotional waning star of a pone. Before treatment, any light brighter than a match had turned excruciating to look at, though I hadn’t much to worry about in that respect, thanks to Ravness’ efforts. To think even with the pathetic stub on her head, the crazed mare had mustered that much magick in a place like this. But the thing that bothered me the most was the peculiar case of my hand. Not only was it itchy, a strange sensation emanated from the space where it should have been, over the bloodied and bandaged stump that had become of my arm. At least, these two among the many mysteries that had plagued me for so long were revealed to me and made sense at last… The disappearance of...her hand and the mystery of that scar on her neck.
Yet for all these things come to light, my heart grew only more encumbered and sullen.
…
…
Silence passed cloyingly as I let the weight come to settle. Nevertheless, this fate was my cross. What I had given up to bear it didn’t matter now. It would all only come back to me one what or another. For now, I could only pray for Levy and their safe passage as I always have.
And at the very least, I was close to falling asleep now...it was oh so nice...feeling slumber's gentle embrace...
...!!
And then came another ruckus, a clatter of barrels coming down. Though it wasn’t as loud as the last, I still couldn’t help but get up to see what it was. Then followed an obnoxious sound, an obnoxious voice stifled behind a hand. Recognizing that familiar sniggering, I peeked through the door to see who it was. It was that despicable Tanzan across the way. He was skulking in the shadows with several items clutched close to his person, bearing that wily grin he unfailingly sported whenever he was in middle of getting away with something. In all my displeased years of knowing him, I’ve seen enough to be sure of this personal tell of his with certainty. He didn’t even bother to set the fallen barrels right up again. Then again, I wouldn’t either, since some golem would come by sooner or later. Whatever the case, he was the only living soul around to talk to. I would have much rather talked to Sahmad, but the gentle giant wasn’t around.
“Oi, you lizard,” I hissed at him before he could slink past a corner. “What are you doing sneaking around, eh?”
Though it seemed he was too far away to hear me, he did drop some of the items he carried. They clinked to the ground and glistened in the moonlight, rolling away a bit as he picked them up. With his precious cache steady in his arms once more, he disappeared past a corner. Though a cutthroat ruffian he may be, he was now officially under the princess’s employ, absolved of any past crime and protected from conviction by her name. And yet there he was, still sticking to shadows. What scheming was he up to now…
Leaving the infirmary a little grumpy, I made to stalk the bangaa a good pace away, far enough for him to not notice me. Rounding the corner he had just ducked into, something clinked at my feet. It was a jar he had somehow missed and left behind. It rolled out from the dark and settled in soft moonlight, its contents glowing in contact with the light.
'Moongrass? What need had he for a spice at this hour?'
Mess call would ring at morning’s first horn anyway, so why worry about food? Ugh…don’t tell me he was smoking it. The telltale glow of a bonfire painted a boulder a splotch of orange by the tree line some distance away. I approached the boulder with the lightest step I could muster. But before I could reach it, something ruffled beneath my step.
Looking down, a curious bag made itself known as an indistinct blob in the shadows. Moving it to the moonlight, I inspected its contents. Uncinching the knot that held it to a close, a fluff of vivid feathers nearly bounced from within, hued in soft yellow. Past the heavy scent of dirt and the blood wafting from the bottom of the bag, it smelled faintly of flowers plucked fresh from a meadow. Did he drop this as well? That idiot, where was he ever going to peddle off this mess? Sure, the smell and the blood could be washed off, but that risked scrubbing of its potential as a catalyst. Not to mention this was the first ever outpost in the Agrippan Jagd, there was no market! Who was ever going to…buy this from…wait… Hmm, flowers from the meadow…
My heart sank and turned heavy as lead when the sudden realization struck swift as lightning. No, not a realization...a reminder. How could I forget! Legs tensed as I entered a mad dash, foregoing stealth entirely. In spite of that, I came upon the bangaa relishing the bliss of his meal, completely indifferent to everything around him, even the stack of crates that had fallen in my wake near the end of my run. I was right in front of him too. Yet he continued to eat without a care in the world.
The slavering lizard long slathered a bone he had stripped clean, savoring every lick. “Oooh, most succulent…most savory! Why hadn’t I switched to pone meat sooner?” He ran its length all through the length of his mouth, savoring it in one more lick before biting down hard and eating the bone entirely. Tanzan enjoyed its taste thoroughly in a manner a child would a cookie, then downed a bottle of ale in one go to prolong his high. Seeing him so enraptured brought him down to a new low in my eyes, a level lower than scum. “What would Sandata think? No, he’s likely on the stuff himself already…Mmmm, the selfish bastard. If I play my cards right, maybe I can get the rest of that sniveling pone in my next wage. Better yet, I should ask for freshly butchered pone in every wage! Oooh, are they delicious!”
He started with the smaller ones, before moving onto the next bone and the next, each crunch coming off as a harmonious choir of bells as far as his ears was concerned. The smell was disgusting. It was a mix of all the alcohol he had stolen and the faint scent of dripped fat wafting from the pit he had roasted his meal over. The only thing that stopped me from vomiting was my sheer anger. When he finished the last bone, his attention finally turned to me.
“Oooh, a slacker’s come to the party awfully late. What was your name...quite easy to forget with a face like that. Sorry, little doll, I’m fresh out now!” He cruelly jested with a snort and smug grin on his snout. Tanzan then brought up a plate up from the ground, covered in sauce with the small wooden skewers pinned under his fingers.
“See this, you stupid pone? All empty! No more! Never took you for a cannibal though. If you had come a bit earlier and begged, I would have given you some out of the kindness of my heart! Hahahaha!”
His laughter was smug yet reserved at a volume that was hush enough. Most of its sound was muffled by the thick growth of surrounding forest. Had he laughed any louder or dug the fire pit any closer, the sights and sounds would have alerted our presiding Knight Undauted, and Tanzan would have a received a swift and strict beating for this all. Seemed like he thought this through to an extent.
Dabbing his fingers in the sauce on the plate, he licked his fingers clean one by one as she approached me. “So what can I do for Sandata’s dog of a doll? Didn’t your master—“ He cut himself off when he spied the thing in my hand. The bag of feathers that squarely aimed my ire at him.
Plucking the bag from my grasp, he eagerly inspected it. Hmm, he clearly thought I had taken some for myself. Next thing was he’d likely call me a thief, the predictable cretin. “Oi, oi, oi! Where’d you get this now, you thief!? If I find so much as a single feather missing, I’ll—”
See? Predictable. Yet for all that predictability, the last thread patience in me frayed. With a stern hand to his chest, I shoved at him gently.
“Ah, now this is a laugh,” he chuckled as I kept pushing, not budging him even an inch…yet.
The sigils of earth flashed across my mind.
“You've some nerve to steal from me. But if you think your scrawny self can put on a dent a bangaa like me, you're scrapped in the head!" He cricked his knuckles and neck, amused to see what outcome might develop in giving me this opening. "Well let's see it then! The best shot this mongrel doll can muster—”
"If you say so," I replied wide-eyed and smile bared toothily.
Bearing down on him with more pressure, he was forced to take a step back, followed by another and another as I gradually pushed him to the wall. His face devolved from an amused grin to stark disbelief as I performed a feat he never thought possible. “Oi, is this it?" He still doubted. "I've killed pones with more rough and tumble than--gah!!”
I ramped up the pressure and pushed him all the way to the boulder, his back going flat against it. Bullets of sweat ran down Tanzan’s face as he realized fully the force I bore down on him. Losing composure, he struggled to get free. Wriggling under my grasp proved counter-productive as my hand caught under a rib, cracking at his sudden jerking and causing him pain. He screamed in agony, and while he was preoccupied by the pain, I set my hand back on his chest squarely and doubled the pressure. His larger bangaa hands wrapped around my neck and lone arm, he desperately attempted to squeeze the life out of me as I slowly beat him within an inch of his. His efforts were futile, as the sharp pain that beset him stole strength from his arm. And so Tanzan squirmed, and screamed, and cried as I kindled all the dread and fear in his mind… He even pissed himself, the poor bastard.
He saw them clear as day. I too could see them, reflected in his gaze as he screamed. The maddening nightmare in the eyes that saw moonlight.
If I wanted to, I could kill him right here. The temptation was there and oh, it was tantalizing to resist! But I didn’t…I could have but ultimately I stayed my hand. Even a cutthroat ruffian like him yet had a purpose to serve, as far as I was aware. Though with one final push, I shoved him into the boulder in an earth trembling crunch, burying him snugly into its rock. Bangaa were a sturdy folk, and I’d even see some that had taken a saber to the arm and walk away as if it were nothing. Tanzan would survive this ordeal, of that I was certain. Now onto more pressing matters.
Tanzan’s eyes fluttered open and close in a rapid erratic pace. His head shuddered as he began frothing in the mouth. Placing my hand squarely on his stomach, I pushed its contents out and guided it up his throat. The vomit spilled in a disgusting arc to the ground. It missed my face by inches.
The hot steaming mess he regurgitated pooled as a puddle on the ground. Shredded meat, brittle bone and a hint of uncooked blood mixing in with all the alcohol he had imbibed and the stomach bile that broke it all down. Any other person would have gagged with revulsion at the look of it, but I would not shy away. Her wings didn’t deserve such a gastric end. With my remaining hand, I scooped the mess and carried it to the fire pit, taking several trips to pick up every morsel. There, I tossed meat cud after stinking meat cud into the smoldering pit and buried it in the ash of the flames that roasted its flesh.
With that matter concluded, I ran my soiled hand on the bark of a tree, and huffed a content sigh before turning back. Yet something else caught my eye, a tiny sullied thing that stuck out from the top of the ashen heap. Curiously I picked it up and regarded it in my hand. It was a length of bone chipped by the flame yet remained none too brittle. In fact it wasn’t brittle at all and even bent slightly. A lithe and resilient thing plucked from its unwilling owner who had the wherewithal to beg for mercy, mercy the cruel bangaa had none to spare. This short length of both was no longer than my finger, yet it had endured flames that only knew to roar and incinerate.
A ghost of a smile crept over me.
And here I thought I had merely taken a detour to indulge in a reckoning on the side. The outcome was ever more auspicious than I had imagined, that I would come upon this meager vestige and make it the moon’s fated vessel. Oh, their heads would turn for circles!
As for the sorry bangaa who I’d interred in the cold rock, he got what was coming to him.
Passing by his hole, I took one more glance before turning back in. The mere sight of him disgusted me, and I spat over his comatose face out of spite.
“Just deserts, you hopeless bastard.”