//------------------------------// // 9 - A Walk in the Woods // Story: Gloaming // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// I’d probably have a gambling problem if any of this was real money. I kept playing poker — there was something weirdly relaxing about trying to guess who had what — and kept getting the first one to be knocked out. Homeguard proved to be an amazing poker player; it seemed to be impossible to bluff him. Homeguard had just taken my last tokens again when Hailey, spectating, sighed. “You really need to go easy on her,” she said. “All of you.” She frowned exaggeratedly at the other players. “No, they don’t,” I said. “How am I gonna learn if everypony goes easy on me?” “Learning’s got nothing to do with it!” protested Hailey. “You sit around a lot, and sitting around’s boring. You need to stay in the game longer. Or at least have money given to you so you can keep playing after you declare bankruptcy yet again.” “And how do I get money?” I asked. “I don’t want it just given to me. I want to earn it somehow.” Everypony seemed to mull it over for half a second before Homeguard said, “I have a proposition. You are a ranger, yes? You must have some interesting experiences with animals and monsters in the past. If you tell a story, I shall pay you based on how good I think it is.” “I was just thinking that,” said Clearwater. A few murmurs of assent came from the spectators. Not a bad idea. It wasn’t very poker-y, but I didn’t really care. “Alright,” I said. “Give me a second to think. I lowered my head and closed my eyes. I needed something good to justify this. Something unique. Something- “Got it,” I said, looking up. “Any of you ever heard of Chincoteague Devils?” Homeguard, Hailey, Clearwater, and several other ponies nodded, but one of the players — I’m pretty sure it was Granger, so I’m calling her Granger — scoffed. “Those things? Half goat, half dragon, half minotaur? They’re legends. Things made up to scare foals.” “Oh, nooooooo,” I said, laughing. “They’re not made up in the slightest. They live in the Pine Barrens — you heard of it? It’s this huge forest that stretches across southern Chincoteague that, for some reason, earth pony magic doesn’t work well in. Not to the same extent as the Everfree, but it’s a struggle to keep that forest alive. Some ponies think that the Devils are responsible, feeding on the magic of the planet itself. Of course, some ponies also think that they’re the deformed spawn of Queen Chrysalis and a regular pony with incomplete shapeshifting abilities, hence their appearance, but…” I shrugged. All the spectators were watching me intently now, even if Granger still looked a little skeptical. “Now, it was eleven years ago,” I continued, “and I was living a bit west of Chincoteague. There’s not many vicious animals out there, so it’s pretty quiet and I don’t have much to do. Then, one day, two ponies on a hike stumble out of the forest, one of them badly injured, and they start raving about this monster that attacked them. Descriptions of it sound an awful lot like a Chincoteague Devil.” I’d been keeping a glass of water near me throughout the night, and I took a drink now to wet my throat. “Now, although Devils are real, they’re pretty rare, so the police were skeptical. Still, a wounded hiker is a wounded hiker, so I got sent out to investigate, being the main ranger in the area. The healthy hiker takes me to where they got attacked, and it looks pretty convincing, with bark gouged out of trees and stuff like that. I’m leaning more towards it being a Devil at this point. I notice tracks on the ground — which is a bit unusual, since Devils can fly — and follow them away from the site. Eventually, I find what looks like its den. Nothing unusual there. But when I look outside, everything seems greener and bigger. I start trying to pull magic into me, like I was making plants grow, and it comes a lot more easily than usual. A little more investigating, and the rocks have a lot more magic than the rest of the surrounding area. I don’t think too much of it, though, because then I see pony tracks heading away from the Devil’s den.” A low oooooooo came from the crowd, which seemed to have grown. I took another drink of water. “I head back to the hiker and start grilling her about what, exactly, happened. She confesses that she and her friend went off the beaten path, found the den — empty — and her friend, who was a unicorn, found some particularly magic-rich rocks in there and decided to take them for study. Apparently, they were the same naturally arcane kind you see in stone circles. Some time later, the Devil attacked them. Well, it didn’t take me long to put two and two together. See-” “Two and two?” asked somepony (I couldn’t tell who). “How’s that two and two? It could be coincidence, you know.” I glared in the direction of whoever had spoken. “I was getting to that. The difference between monsters and regular animals,” I said. “Monsters need at least a little bit of magic to live, what with all the disparate parts stuck together and impossible physiology. There’s a theory going around — one that I think is true — that, as a gem’s structure is so well-suited to storing magic, arcane absorption leads to gems having a higher-than-usual concentration of magic, so dragons eat them for the magic inside. Anyway, with magic so hard to come by in the Barrens, the Devil was leeching off the magic in those rocks and, once they were taken, followed them. In fact, I suspected it’d follow them wherever the wounded hiker was taking them.” I could still remember the terror I’d felt when I’d realised what was going on. I’d been explaining to the hiker what the Devil was doing to the hiker, and then my brain caught up with my mouth and I knew what the Devil would do. “So I start running back, as fast I can, and a Chincoteague Devil’s already ripping at the doors of the hospital, where the hiker’s recovering. And it’s a small town, so the few cops that are already there don’t really have the training or experience to deal with something like that — no offense, Clearwater-” “None taken.” “-and they’ve barricaded themselves inside. Now, you need to remember: the Devils live in a magic-poor area and it needs to feed off the magic in the rocks to survive. It’s not a bloodthirsty monster killing because it can, it’s more like a sick monster willing to do anything to get its medicine. But the cops don’t know, and I probably wouldn’t be able to convince them. I tried to talking to it, but it wouldn’t listen to me. So without really thinking, I jumped on the Devil and started wrestling it.” I heard a lot of gasps and variations on “Whoa…” or “Really?” I paid them no mind. I was on a roll. “Now, I didn’t want to kill it, but Chincoteague Devils can be nasty when pissed off, and… Yeah. And those claws they’ve got are sharp.” I lifted up a leg to show three jagged scars running down it. “Still, I was battered, bruised, and bloody, but also winning. Then the Devil suddenly stops fighting and looks up. The healthy hiker had the mind to run into the hospital, get the magic rocks from her friend, and run back out with them to distract the Devil. She tosses the rocks at it, and the Devil swoops in, grabs the rocks, and flies away screeching. As far as I know, it never bothered the town again. And that’s how I got into hoof-to-hoof combat with a Chincoteague Devil.” I heard several statements of appreciation. Somepony drummed their hooves on the floor in applause. “Good story,” Homeguard said with a smile. He cut his very large pile of tokens in half and pushed one of those halves to me. I blinked, then grinned. “Well. Game on.” It was nearing midnight when the party finally broke off. I felt like I’d just had a psychological massage, unravelling all the stresses that had knotted themselves into my mind. I was one of the last ponies to leave, alongside Homeguard and Hailey. They were sort of hanging out while I was sampling some of Clearwater’s beers. Aside from liking 190 proof, she had good taste. “And that’s all the beer I’ve got,” said Clearwater. “But I’ve an open bottle of wine somewhere around here if you want some. 974 Champoney. And that’s real champoney, from the actual Champoney, mind you. Technically speaking, it has to come from Champoney to be called champoney. Like how tequaballa has to come from Tequaballa.” “Really? I didn’t know that.” “They are the vintages of those particular kinds of drinks,” said Homeguard. “They are s- “Wellllll, I dunno about vintages,” piped up Hailey from a room over, “at least not for tequaballa. ’Cause the agave doesn’t really grow on vines, does it? Tequaballa is more like the agavage of the drink. …Ooo, agavage! That’s a great name for a rock band!” Homeguard grunted and continued. “They are simply so popular that, as with kleenex and band-aids, the brand name has become synonymous with the product in general.” “Hmm. I dunno, that sort of wine’s gotta be pretty valuable. What does Pomeroy think?” “Go ahead!” yelled Pomeroy from upstairs. “I can’t tell the difference between white wines, anyway!” “Just a little, then,” I said. “I want to be thinking straight when I head home.” “Do you think you will require assistance?” Homeguard asked as Clearwater went to fetch the bottle. For some reason, he seemed a bit tense. “Nah, I don’t think so,” I said. “I’m not even buzzed yet. I’m not too drunk.” “That is what is always said shortly before one becomes too drunk.” Hailey flapped into the room, fiddling with a Rubuck’s Cube. “C’mon, Homeguard,” she said. “Like you know what it’s like to get drunk.” “I never saw the point in purposefully degrading one’s intelligence. I am simply concerned that Swan Dive may continue on her current path of intoxication and become unable to find her way home this late at night.” “She’ll be fine!” chirped Hailey. She dropped the (solved) cube on a table. “Fine as this wine.” She turned around, plucked the champoney bottle from Clearwater’s mouth (I hadn’t even noticed Clearwater was returning yet and she was as shocked as I was), and poured me a glass. “Please tell me it’s still fine,” she whispered to me, but she was still grinning. Fine it was. I wish I knew more about wines so I could what made it fine. I slowly drained the glass, half-filled it again, and drained it again. I hiccuped. “Okay,” I said, “I think that’s enough.” I stood up. Fortunately, the floor wasn’t wobbling. “Thanks for a night out, Clearwater. I needed it.” “Hey, anytime,” said Clearwater. “I’m here if you need me.” “And, speaking of needing,” I said, my mind jiggled, “you wouldn’t happen to have a nailgun I can borrow, would you? I need to replace some boards on my shed.” “Oh, yeah, gimme a sec to get it.” Once I had the nailgun in my saddlebags, I said my goodbyes to everypony and left the house. The world might’ve been tilting a little, but it could’ve been my imagination. I was rattling my light gem for illumination when Hailey said, “Hey! Swan!” Then she was at my side so smoothly and silently I barely noticed her. “Bet I know what you’re gonna say,” she said, “but you’re sure you’re okay going home tonight? Pretty dark out there?” “Really sure,” I said. “I’m used to the dark.” Hailey nodded. “Thought so. It’s just that Homie can be kinda pushy. Didn’t want to come off the wrong way.” She saluted. “Anyway, later.” The downside of Clearwater’s house being along the scenic route: going back was a pain. The road twisted through the forest like a snake, and I knew I’d have to double back when I got into Delta proper. The alcohol was wearing on me, not in drunkenness, but fatigue. Every step I took seemed to be a little heavier than the last and I was wishing for my bed before I’d gone a mile. I know my directions. My house was to the east. The road was heading south. I looked down the dark road — zigging and zagging, lined with trees looming on either side — then to the left, into the woods — harder to walk down, but a heck of a lot shorter. Of course, there were animals out there. Bears. Wolves. Other nasties I didn’t know about. Probably just as cranky as I was and a lot better-armed. Unwilling to talk to me, possibly hungry. Not to mention the predator killer. Plus all the uneven ground that was treacherous while sober during the day. And a general lack of civilization for you to orient yourself. But, still. A heck of a lot shorter. I’m not going to pretend this was smart. Or even anything resembling intelligent. I will defend that I was probably a little tipsy. But, I admit, only a little. So. Cutting through a forest. At night. Yeah. The moon was a waning three-quarters gibbous. Not quite a full moon, but still bright enough to almost see by. City folk don’t realise just how bright the moon can get in areas without light pollution (the answer is “very”); the only reason I kept my light gem ignited was because forests and easy traveling go together like oil and water at the best of times. Forget the trees reaching clawlike into the sky and their gnarled branches reaching out for you — the most intimidating thing about a forest at night for me is the risk of twisting a hoof. But I settled into a cautious, weaving sort of mosey, subconsciously analyzing the ground even as I was stepping on it. An owl hooted into the night — definitely a spotted owl — as I surveyed the forest. There was only a smattering of clouds with the occasional angel spitting on me, so the moonlight filtered down through the trees and let me see just how far I was from civilization. I’ve been out in plenty of environments at night, but none of them have the quiet menace of forests. Personally, I’ve always thought that was because it manages to combine our fear of the dark (trees casting irregular shadows on the ground) with claustrophobia, of all things (no matter where you run, you’ll always hit a tree unless you turn) and a cartload of things for something to hide behind. It’s like a dense fog; you’re never inhibited, yet everywhere’s a hiding place. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise that I soon felt like I was being watched. I looked up and all around; the trees loomed above me, their branches providing a thousand places for a stalker to perch, while any number of dips and dives in the land could’ve kept me from seeing someone hiding in them. I took to looking over my shoulder, listening for out-of-the-ordinary sounds. Nothing. Was I just being paranoid, or was my intelligence catching up with my actions? Even with the animal killings, there were still all sorts of nasty things in the woods and the predator population wasn’t gone. It was very well possible that something was sniffing me out and trying to get a feeling for me. At least it wasn’t the killer; that thing only struck once every week or so, and with the last murder so recent, there was no way it’d attack again so quickly. Right? I whirled around. I saw nothing behind me. I heard nothing but the wind. Not even birds. I swallowed and picked up my pace. I managed to stay on a straightish path even though I started looking suspiciously at shadows. As my anxiety overpowered the alcohol, I started looking for what few landmarks there were. To my relief, I picked out recognizable ones. They weren’t much — a specific twist in the stream here, an unusual cliff there, a clearing I could barely recognize — but I was headed in the right direction. Eventually, I make out one or two of the few lights in Delta that were still burning between the trees. My heart lifted. That’s when I heard the slobbering and ripping. It was quiet, distant, but definitely there. I froze. Whatever they were, they were eating, so they wouldn’t be interested in live prey. If worst came to worst, I could get away if they noticed me. Since I couldn’t tell what direction the noise was coming from, I continued walking for Delta and rattled my light gem. Just my luck. It was coming from ahead of me, and as I slowly approached Delta, the sound grew louder. I stopped when I thought it was thirty feet ahead of me and bit my lip. Whatever it was, it either hadn’t noticed me or (far more likely) just didn’t care, since it already had a nice… something sitting in its belly. I could go around it, but then I wouldn’t know what it was and wouldn’t know how to react if it stopped eating. But if I took a look at it, well… Walking up to a carnivore in the middle of the night. Not the smartest thing to do. What the heck. I was already doing one stupid thing. Why not two? Walking in the direction of the sound, I rattled my light gem again. I really wish I knew why I did that; if it’s only been on for a few minutes, trying to stimulate the magic more won’t make it any brighter. Habit, I guess. I lifted it up and squinted into the darkness. Not for the first time, I wished I’d gotten the kind with red light. But I saw it: a shadow I recognized as a bear, bent over a body and eating it. For a second, I was terrified that it was a pony, but the ears were too pointy and it was a bit too large. It wasn’t long before I recognized the body as a splintercat. I let the gem drop and was about to go back to the road when I got an idea. Wolves and bears had different perspectives. Maybe the bear would give me more information than the wolves had. I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to do it, but the bear was right there; why not try? I cautiously approached the bear. “Um, excuse me,” I called out. “Mr. Bear?” (I really hope “he” isn’t a Mrs. Bear.) “Ursa? Or- Urso?” I never know what to call animals. “Hey! Can I talk to you?” The bear stopped eating and looked up. After a moment, he growled softly and went back to chowing down. “This’ll only take a second, I promise.” Grunt. “Please?” Huff. The bear pulled his muzzle from the carcasse and sat down very heavily. A good start. “Okay. So there’s a monster — well, I think it’s a monster — killing animals around here, and I was wondering if you knew anything.” I couldn’t see the bear’s facial expression in the dark, but I suspected he was giving me the ursine equivalent of “you can’t be serious”. He had the right tilt to his head. A gust of wind blew past us and suddenly the bear roared at me, a bloodcurdling and bassy hammer of sound. Run! screamed my instincts. And most of my training. But I stood my ground, if taking five steps back but not running qualifies as that. “Look, look, look,” I said quickly. “I don’t want a fight. I just need you to-” The bear took a step forward, his growls low. «You smell of them.» Them? Them? And I’d had contact with them recently? “You mean there’s more than one?” I asked quickly. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, you need to-” Suddenly the bear’s head snapped to one side. He froze and sniffed. I followed where he was looking, but couldn’t see anything. “What is it? Is something out there?” The bear acted like he hadn’t heard me. He roared into the night, more emphatically than he had at me, and started to back away. He paused, then he roared again, louder. Another pause, then he turned and ran, smashing through branches and bushes. “Wait!” I yelled, bolting after him. “Tell me what’s-” I didn’t hear a thing. A pony-sized silhouette shot out of the darkness at speeds faster than I could imagine and slammed into the bear without slowing down, yet I couldn’t feel any wind from its passage. I heard several loud cracks and the bear rolled out of easy sight of my light. I could see his shadow struggle to get up, but something yanked him down hard as if he’d been hit with a giant hammer. He began screaming. Finally, the smarter part of my brain spoke up. Run. You can’t fight it. Did you see the way it moved? I can’t outrun it. That doesn’t matter. TRY. This is the monster. I know it. So what are you standing around for? RUN! I need to know. I’m dead anyway. RUN! I didn’t bother giving my smarter half a response. I galloped after the bear as best I could. He was screaming, wailing in agony, making sounds I’d never heard a bear make before. His body was blocking my view of whatever was attacking him, but I could hear it. Wet rips, sickening slobbers. My stomach turned over just thinking about it. I tried to run around the bear, but his body was lifted up like a ragdoll and thrown into a tree hard enough to snap the trunk in two. Even earth ponies didn’t have that kind of strength. A pony-shaped shadow was standing where the bear had been. Darkness obscured its features. I slid to a stop. Should I run? Could I run? How fast was it? It hadn’t attacked ponies before; would I be the first? Why in Tartarus had I walked into a forest at night? Then a familiar voice came from the darkness. “Stupid fucking animal…” Oh, Celestia, no. No. It couldn’t be him. It just couldn’t. He’d already wrecked my life enough. Why was he the one responsible? The shadow casually walked into my light. Even though I knew who was coming, I swear my heart stopped when I finally actually saw him. “Yo,” River said with a bloodstained grin.