A sudden blizzard had blown through as the mare slept, blowing around her campfire and tearing at the stones of her hide. She had awoken to the trampling of rocks striking the stone floor, forcing her to rush and gather her things. As she captured her only hide, she came face to face with the worst storm she had ever seen. The night sky provided no light other than the lightning strikes that struck down from the clouds, cutting snowflakes in half and torching whatever tree might have gotten in its path.
After putting away the hide, she returned to the entrance and stared out the doorway, eyeing the wind that cut stone and drudged up rotten floorboards. The decaying ruins of houses around her monstrous dwelling were being destroyed even further, though she thought it impossible. Just as she started to back away and return to her quarters, hoping the storm would end soon, lightning struck a tree within her cone of vision. She would have thought nothing of the powerful showing done by the elements had a terrifying scream not accompanied the sight.
In the flames that wrought the tree, the abyss could be seen. A celestial being. One of many masters. A god.
Her heart shot into her throat. The unseen was seen and it had been struck by nature's wrath.
With the light of the roaring fire that soaked and charred the tree, Hawkeye could see every detail upon the deity. It was the first of flyers she had ever seen. To this point, the only other that crossed her path had been a walker thrice the size of the most prominent kin within the remnants. That one had been grey, its bones showing, and feathers coated its underside like the opposite of a bird.
This one, however, was black of body and lack of spirit, translucent tentacles covered the celestial as if it were a corrupt snowball. It had no eyes, only a mouth that resembled the beak of an octopus. The god shuffled between the trees, grabbing the wood with its tentacles and pulling them down. It floated forward, rushing into the ruins as if it feared its surroundings.
For the mare, she knew the almighty would be heading for refuge, for the enormous dwelling she had made into her own. Rushing back to her quarters, she quickly shoved the door shut and pushed the wooden box against the frame. Tossing her bags to the furthest corner and covering the bed with the snowy hide, she hoped her scent would not draw the divine.
Crawling beneath the frame of the bed, Hawkeye hid with the mold that now liberally coated her back and head.
She waited. If the god entered her room, she would hold her breath for as long as she could manage. It wasn't something she could do well - a forty second max - but it would suffice, she hoped.
A ruckus erupted from the entrance, the unseen had pushed through the broken doors. She listened to it slithering its tentacles along the walls outside her door, but this passed as it continued. When it made its way back, she could hear a knock, the writhing tendrils pushing and prodding at whatever it could grab. But it was when the door fell, broken off the bottom hinge, that she knew to hold her breath.
One cutie mark. Two cutie mark. Three cutie mark. Her count had started, hoping the god would leave before she was forced to gasp for air.
The frame cracked from the size of the god. Though the tentacles were transparent, creating a wispy look as they moved, they held a mass that could crush a pony's head in a matter of seconds. These tentacles tapped the wooden box she had barricaded in front of the door before moving to the wall. It followed the edge until it came to her bags.
Four cutie mark. Five cutie mark. Six cutie mark.
She could see it smother the straps in its tendrils, wrapping around and gauging the contents. It lifted the saddlebags into the air before dropping them back to the ground, only to wait for something else to happen.
Seven cutie mark. Eight cutie mark. Nine cutie mark.
A high-pitched growl echoed from the god's mouth as it slapped at the bags, shaking the contents. As if studying their reaction, the god hissed and mewed, slinking against the walls around her belongings. She wondered why it chose to examine her things after finding no trace of her.
Ten cutie mark. Eleven cutie mark. Twelve cutie mark.
Once it finally gave up, she saw the tendrils slump across the ground, dragged to the edge of the bed. With another screech and growl, the hide she had placed on the bed was thrown off, forming a pile on the ground to the left. He struck the fabric repeatedly, screaming at it with a murderous fury.
Thirteen cutie mark. Fourteen cutie mark. Fifteen cutie mark.
Lifting the hide, Hawkeye could not see what exactly it was doing. It was not until the god dropped it back to the floor that she saw the bite taken from the cured hide. He sounded like a choking bird, regurgitating food for its young, though this god did not spout its contents.
Sixteen cutie mark. Seventeen cutie mark. Eighteen cutie mark.
With a volley of strikes, the god furiously slapped the top of the bed before pulling up the mattress and throwing it against the other wall. Had there not been another square beneath, Hawkeye would have been in the open, an enticing meal for the beaked god.
Nineteen cutie mark. Twenty cutie mark. Twenty-one cutie mark.
The tendrils wrapped around the posts and shook the bed, sending more mold onto the mare's back, sliding down her sides. With another screech, the tantrum by the god had subsided and the divine pushed through the cracked frame, dragging its tentacles with it.
Twenty-two cutie mark. Twenty-three cutie mark. Twenty-four cutie mark.
Though the god had vanished out of sight, the mare knew better than to trust a single inspection.
Twenty-five cutie mark. Twenty-six cutie mark. Twenty-seven cutie mark. Twenty-eight... Twenty-nine...
The god returned, slapping its tendrils against the frame and letting out an ear-shattering screech. It was the final outburst. As soon as it finished, the god once again left. This time, the door of the enormous dwelling shattered against the stone. The angered god had left in a rampage.
Finally able to breathe, Hawkeye remained still. She would not sleep, she would be a statue until the morning light.