Ever so slowly, the carriage worked its way down the mountainside. It being so late, there were no others inside, leaving Prism in a peculiar situation. Normally she preferred personal space, if not isolation, but now was different. She felt alone, in a sense greater than merely the carriage ride. Some small part of her cried out like a straggler adrift at sea, bringing to mind her friends and family. Yet, in spite of this Prism felt hollow and alone.
A creeping sensation of dread overcame her, not a fear of the dark surrounding her, but a more primal thing. She felt truly terrible, a seed of woe spreading roots through apathy in her heart, and now there was no one around. Even the carriage driver seemed a world away, a mesh of wood that might as well be a mountain range. No one was there to blame, no one was there to help.
Prism came the closest to lucidity since entering the blur of the carriage as she realised that wasn’t entirely true. After all, she was still there. If here, alone, she felt such misery, then it couldn’t be the fault of anyone else, the filly’s mind reasoned. A sensation finally overcame the numbness of her body as the carriage came to a stop at the empty station: a harsh pain in her chest, like the sharp stab of a knife.
Clutching at her chest, Prism stumbled out of the carriage, her senses blurring at the agony. She tried to cry out, to yell in pain, but her weak voice failed her like everything else had. Distantly, Prism thought she heard the driver, perhaps some of the guards of the station fussing toward her. Yet beyond that, Prism saw something clearly in the moonlight darkness of the night forest, a light dancing in between the trees.
As Prism beheld the light, she felt a desire to come closer to it, a faint and familiar scent coming to her nose. As her nose twitched at the smell, Prism felt her pain abide by a degree. Thus, still reeling in pain, the filly ran past the ponies trying to help her and into the dark of the forest. Afraid of the forest or assuming she knew what she was doing, not one of the ponies followed, at best resolving to call for a knight.
Meanwhile, Prism followed the entrancing light further away from the path, the scent now starting to resemble something more specific: the flowers in their garden back home. The pain continued to subside, a cold numbness slowly crawled up the filly’s hooves, but she found this preferable to hurting.
Finally, Prism found the source of the light, a small clearing in the dense forest up ahead. The clearing held many mounds and large rocks, but the whole floor was densely covered in vivid blue flowers that opened to the moonlight. In the center of the clearing shone the light, a beacon of gathered moon beams that lit the whole clearing.
A smile gathering on her lips, Prism felt none of the pain that had plagued her earlier, only a numb peace. In the distance, she thought she heard a call for her name, but she paid it no mind as she stepped into the grove, awash in its tranquil nothing. The smell of the flowers was intoxicating, and with the moon above, Prism curled down on the soft bed of flowers and slowly shut her eyes, even the cold fading in sensation from her body as her thoughts drifted away.
A snapping noise would rouse Prism from the start of her slumber. One snap was followed by another, until there was a great cacophony from the darkness of the forest. Prism opened her eyes to the concern, but couldn’t muster the will to do more than half heartedly turn her head toward the sound, shaking off many thin vines and stalks of flowers that had fallen into and through her mane.
There she saw the flowers were on top of her as well, but she wasn’t concerned. Not truly happy either, just accepting. ‘Like a blanket,’ Prism thought mildly, ‘I think I’ll go back to sleep now.’ Yet she was interrupted by yet more crashing and movement, in the forest. Some small part of her mind began to feel concern, a worry perhaps? It was distant, like a half remembered dream, but she felt that perhaps she shouldn’t be here.
It was when she spotted a shape in the trees moving steadily toward her that this fear began to develop more. Suddenly she started to remember all the stories of how dangerous the forest could be, and of the monsters that lurked in it. Monsters that would be all too happy to snatch up a filly like her. Prism’s heart started to race as she moved to stand and found herself incapable. Her body simply didn’t, couldn’t move. Prism started to panic, screaming as best her frail voice could against her better judgement.
Breaths came quickly and ragged as the dark shape approached, knocking aside underbrush in its path toward her. Prism’s fear was finally too much as she simply closed her eyes and held still, hoping that it might miss her among the flowers. Great was her surprise when the stomping stopped and she heard a gruff voice speak softly, “No, pleasepleaseno.”
Prism’s questions were answered when her Pa lifted her head softly, her eyes opening and a smile crossing her face for a moment. Tears filled his eyes, redness in them showing that they weren’t the first. He spoke first with winded and broken words, “I heard … and I thought …” Wiping away his tears he tried to regain composure and try again, “Don’t go scaring me like that.” He tried to pull Prism into an embrace, but was denied by the same bed of flowers that had stopped her movement before, even his earth pony strength surpassed by these mere flowers. Prism tried to struggle before a pallid look of recollection passed Hammer’s face, “Mourning Glories,” he muttered with a grave tone.
He brushed Prism’s mane to calm her struggles, “I’m so sorry Sweet Pea, this has been hard on both of us.” Looking with pride, he continued, “You’ve been so brave, my little knight, but it’s okay to let yourself be sad.” Hammer looked about him, around the glade, “It’s the only way to move on.”
Prism wanted to deny it, she wanted to not hurt, but she couldn’t anymore. The two stayed in the grove until morning, finally grieving together. They told stories of Sight Ward, and discussed openly how they had dealt with the passing. The family of two resolved to traditions to keep her memory, and to new things so they could move on. When the first rays of light greeted them from the dawn, the flowers closed in the clearing, and the ones over Prism had vanished.
The two walked back through the forest to their home, and Prism looked up to her Pa. “How’d you know what those were, how’d you know what to do?”
Hammer smiled down at his precious daughter, “I lived by this forest all my life, I’ve seen the Mourning Glory take more than a few ponies. I’m just glad we were able to find you.” He looked out over the morning sun’s light on the village, as they’d finally left the forest. Seeing their home in the distance he continued, “Besides, I told you we’ll get through this.”
Prism smiled happily as she followed to her bed and a well needed rest. She hadn’t stopped missing her Ma, and she never would, but now she had started to move on.