It didn’t take long after entering the Everfree Forest before I felt myself being swallowed by its unrelenting darkness, which I will tell you was far more total than it is today. This pall of dread enveloped me. It was almost tangible, like when you leave a cooled building and step outside into a humid day at the height of summer… except this feeling wasn’t hot and sticky; it was cold and oppressive, almost metallic, ready with a moment’s hesitation on my part to rip out and/or sap away any positive emotion and replace it with this existential emptiness that seemed to radiate from every single thing around me. What wind existed in that place sounded more like the cries of the damned, a symphony I hope never to hear again in my life, as it permeated every single shrub, rock, and tree.
About that last one: After seven hundred fifty years of unchecked growth, the ancient trees of the Forest had long since become giant, forming this canopy that completely blotted out the sky. I knew it was night when I entered, but chances were I’d have no idea if the day broke unless I happened upon a clearing or a lucky sunbeam; they had watches back then of course, but they were manually wound and not for poor refugee farmers like myself. Anyway. Having learned my lesson from the last time I went into the Forest to get those apple seeds, I brought along my family’s mini-lantern. It didn’t provide a lot of light, but it was enough to move by, even if I had to carry it in my mouth.
In those days, there were no easy paths into the Forest, certainly not through it as far as I or anyone else knew; the post roads all made noticeable detours around it. And we set up our homestead in what was in those days a wild, untamed part of Equestria that had no roads at all save for the occasional wagon trails.
That meant the first hour or two – it’s so easy to lose track of time in there – consisted of traipsing narrow paths worn down by the Forest creatures or, failing that, carefully walking or even crawling through bushes and brambles. Their branches and thorns constantly made tiny cuts into my skin as I plodded through. Following these trails was the only real way I had to try and track that Timberwolf to get back Ma’s ladle. I had no idea whether or not I was headed in the right direction.
All my senses were on high alert, hoping I wouldn’t upset any wildlife that might strike out. In the Everfree, as you may have already learned, entities that could attack you amounted to… basically everything.
After some time, I reached a stream. There are many streams and rivers that snake their way through the Forest thanks to its highly uneven geography. I didn’t want to ford yet another body of water if I didn’t have to. Luckily, I found a rotting log not far downstream. Of course it started to collapse under my weight once I had gotten just over halfway across it. Isn’t that how it always works? Fortunately, I managed to scramble to the other side without falling in, but I lost sight of the trail I had been using. So, more sticks and brambles for me. How I never lost my bonnet or lantern or an eye at that point is nothing short of a miracle.
I eventually emerged from the brush to find myself upon what I least expected: a road. It was severely degraded, its formerly raised edges reduced to rubble, grass and weeds poking up through the tiny spaces in between the irregularly shaped paving stones, forming a sickly green floor to the canopy above; but its basic form was clearly visible, leading off in either direction to some destination at that point unknown to me. A few yards away I could see the remnants of two signs: one made of wood that, thanks to the elements, had rotted to the point of uselessness, and an older more permanent one made of stone that could have been a milepost laid long before the War; I had no idea because the weathered writing carved into its side and base was in some alphabet I couldn’t even begin to read – yes, I could read. The Tarpanites of Hippus Valley may not be champions of mare literacy, but Pa made good and sure I got all of what little education he could stuff into my head.
Anyway, from that stone I could go right or left. No idea what lay in either direction. If I’d had a Bit, I’d have flipped it, chosen sun or moon, and gone by the results. As it was, I closed my eyes and turned around in a circle a few times, fully prepared to walk in whichever direction I ended up facing, once the dizziness faded.
I went left.
After maybe a thousand feet or so, the paving stones gradually dwindled until I was on a simple grass path. I continued walking anyway, until I came upon the remains of what had at some point been a sign on the left side of the road. The moist nature of the Forest meant it had become severely weathered, but what of it I could see had writing in both that strange old alphabet and the one I’m writing in now. It seemed to be a welcome sign. A welcome sign for what, exactly, I couldn’t tell, because the path ahead was choked with a thick fog. With my lantern (still intact, hooray) as my only light source, I couldn’t see worth spit.
I tried to approach it, but out of nowhere a female voice called out to me to turn back. Not in any harsh way, mind you. Not ordering me, more… beseeching (you know what that word means, right?), asking but not like a question. I looked all around, trying to find its source. No luck. Then, from in front of me and off to the right, much closer than I expected, emerged the voice’s origin. It was a young but strange Earth-pony mare, only a couple years past filly stage, with a grey coat and yellow and orange striped mane and tail, who had a magnifying glass cutie mark. Her presence wasn’t the strange part, nor was it the fact that I could have sworn through the dim light of my lantern she was translucent; it was the fact that her eyes were completely yellow and emitted a strange light all their own.
“What do you mean ‘Turn back’?” I asked her.
She looked at me and hung her head. “You have the Mark,” she said. “Entering this place will lead to your doom, as it did mine.”
As I stood there trying to figure out what in the hay she was talking about, she turned her glowy eyes down the path in front of me. The fog lifted slightly to reveal the remnants of a settlement, enclosed within a simple wooden fence not unlike the one Pa and my brothers built to mark out our homestead. Several yards in I could see the outlines of dwellings. Ancient single-room homes, over a dozen of them, built in a mud-brick and thatch style that even the traditionalists in Hippus Valley had stopped using centuries earlier. More importantly, all the houses I could see, except one, had partially collapsed and rotted away, leaving crumbling walls and exposed beams sticking out in the perpetual dark.
Out of dumb curiosity, I walked a few steps further, at which point I noticed the remnants of a gate hanging open and a grassy path beyond, meandering between the ruined homes. I turned back to talk to the young grey mare I had met, but she was gone. Instead, looking forward, I saw a pony come out of the one intact house and walk slowly towards me, back-right leg dragging slightly. Another mare, older, this one with a dull grey coat and wispy red mane. She was thin: skin and bones thin, as if she had become partly mummified. From what I could see, she had no cutie mark despite being full-grown. Her eyes had a distinct blood red glow to them, useless as headlamps. She walked up to the open gate and stopped, looking directly at me.
“Do not cross this threshold,” she said in a raspy voice, pointing her shaky hoof toward the open gate. “If you do, you will never leave this village alive. I cannot stop them, and I no longer care to try.” I don’t believe I’ve ever heard a pony sound as sad as her, before or since. I hope no one ever does.
Sad or not, I hate it when ponies speak in cryptic riddles, just as much now as I did back then. I briefly put my lantern down and asked, “What’re you tryin’ to tell me, miss… uh…”
“Mitta,” she said, slowly. “This village, Sunny Town, is a cursed place. Long ago, we committed an unforgivable sin. We were punished by the Princess, as I now know we deserved. But, shortly after, the Corruption of the Forest reached us and twisted us. They became abominations, while I… I was the only one able to retain any sense of self, for I felt remorse the others did not. Yet my guilt endures. Even I cannot remain lucid for long. Ruby will… guide you… though she refuses to… show herself… to me. I wish… I could say…”
At that point, Mitta’s head began to twitch violently, as if she was fighting some sort of bug that had entered her brain.
“You must… leave… NOW,” Mitta croaked as she slumped to the ground, her breathing horribly laboured. I wanted to help her, but the sight and stench of a dozen undead rotting pony corpses rising from the ground put an end to that thought. I picked up my lantern, turned around, and hightailed it back the other way, as far from that place as I could get.
After about a minute of galloping at full speed, I ran into the yellow-eyed mare again. Or rather, I ran through her.
“Wah!” I screamed before collecting myself and righting the lantern I had just dropped. “Y-you’re ‘Ruby’, right?” I asked her.
Ruby nodded.
“I’m Antonovka. My family calls me ‘Annie’.”
Ruby gave a polite bow. Clearly she knew her manners.
“A-and… you’re a ghost,” I said to confirm what I thought I’d seen.
Ruby nodded again, this time obviously sad.
“What in the hay happened?” I asked her.
Ruby shook her head, a quiet ethereal voice coming out from her form. “I do not wish to discuss it.”
Well, that conversation was going nowhere, so I decided to take a shot in the dark. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a Timberwolf with a thing stuck in its head, would you?”
Ruby cocked her head at me and appeared to raise an eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell due to her eyes being literal light beacons. “No. I keep my distance from Timberwolves, a force of habit from when I was alive, though they may still pose a danger to me. Here in the Forest, the line between life and death is not at all solid.”
“Well, I guess that’s fair enough,” I said. “By the way, how come you’re able to leave that village when that other pony didn’t go past the gate?”
If Ruby had been capable of crying, I think she would have right then. “When the Corruption subsumed Sunny Town, I was already dead, so I was not affected, except perhaps by its restoring my form and giving me a wider range of movement. As for the Curse, I am why the Princess did so. Mitta probably would have broken the Curse had she been allowed one more week, but the Corruption froze everything forever. No pony consumed by that village can ever leave it.”
I nodded, pretending to understand. I decided to ask one more question: “When I reached this old road here, I went left and found y’all’s village. Where’ll I end up if I keep going the other way?”
“There are many ancient roads leading through the Forest, some in better shape than others,” Ruby said. “All roads will eventually lead to the capital, Everfree.”
“Well, that explains how the Forest got its name,” I mumbled.
“Even when I was alive, that city was in ruins and had been for a hundred years or more. No pony of pure spirit ever goes near the place, for it is the heart of the Corruption. Although, legends tell of a group of ponies living among its remains,” she warned.
“You don’t think they’d help me find my ladle?”
Ruby stared at me, her jaw dropped. “You… came into this Forest because you lost a ladle?”
“Well,” I said, “My family’s a bunch of poor refugee farmers. Soup’s about all we can make and it’s the only ladle we got, and it’s my fault for losin’ it, so it’s my responsibility to get it back.”
“You are serious,” she asked flatly.
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Well then,” Ruby said with a nod, “Maybe I can help you. My cutie mark is a magnifying glass. It means I have a talent for finding things… although I shortly thereafter found my own death as a result…” she hung her head in shame, trying to cry again but failing. Then she perked her head up. “I will use my ability to help you.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” I said. I stuck out my right forehoof to shake, then smacked my face after a minute when I realized I was talking to a ghost. “Let’s go.”
We walked down the decaying paved road, passing an unreadable carved stone milepost or broken light beacon every so often. Then, I stopped as a thought suddenly crossed my mind.
“Ruby, why are you walking? You’re a ghost, right? Can’t you fly?”
I think I saw the young mare blush. “Walking is just… more natural for me. Perhaps it is my way of denying my mortality.”
“Yeah, I can understand that… I guess,” was all I could say in return.
Just then, we were startled by something dashing across the road, something huge. Given the fact that it didn’t destroy any trees in the process, we both figured it had to be a Timberwolf. One with a silvery glint on its head.
“My ladle!” I near-screamed. Like an idiot, I turned in the direction the thieving pile of wood-hewn wolf had run. “I’m goin’ after it.”
Ruby held out her hoof to stop me, but being non-corporeal, there wasn’t much she could do except let out a furtive “Don’t…”
I wasn’t listening as I leapt off the road and made my way even further into the uncharted depths of the Forest.