Chapter 58
The Fox and the Rabbit
Across the snowy banks of the forest, a rabbit as white as the snow around it burst forth, running for its life.
Behind it, a fox as grey as a stone dashed after its quarry.
The rabbit hadn’t seen the fox for some time, but knew that it hadn’t relented its pursuit. With a sudden turn, it veered to the side just as the fox appeared from the bushes beside it. It was only able to narrowly escape being pinned to the ground, and hopped quickly away from the jaws of the fox.
Kicking up a flurry of snow into the fox’s face, the rabbit ran away.
Though it couldn’t hear the fox through the rustling branches and the howling wind of the blizzard, the rabbit knew if it stopped for a moment that it would be ended.
It ran through the dense branches of low bushes. Though its progress was slowed, the fox would be too large to follow after too quickly.
The dry, brittle branches of the brush snapped and cracked with every motion of the rabbit. And with every motion, the branches of the plant shook harder than they ever did in the wind alone.
Before the fox could learn its whereabouts, the rabbit slowed to a shuffle.
The opening of the thicket yawned ahead, beckoning the rabbit forth. But, whether or not the fox was waiting for it was a risk it didn’t wish to immediately take.
And so the rabbit waited, shivering in the underbrush. Until the moment it knew that it would be safe from harm.
Twilight ran through the forest, neither knowing or caring where she was going.
Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as rapidly as her breaths.
The gradually deepening snow was slowing her hooves down. And the blizzard that she had run into chilled her to her core. Worst of all, it prevented her from seeing anything until it was almost right in front of her.
Just as things seemed their very worst, Twilight yelped when a long, spindly hand shot out toward her.
She felt the crooked fingers scratch against her face and fell against the nearest tree trunk, hearing a sharp snapping noise as she did.
It only just registered in Twilight’s mind that the thing that reached for her was a bare tree branch blowing in the wind. And the snapping was the many twigs on its ends. Regardless of the harmless encounter, Twilight regained her balance as quickly as she could and stumbled forth through the snow.
Her hooves had grown numb beneath her, swallowed by the cold with every step she took. And whether it had been happening the whole time, or whether Twilight was only just then becoming aware of it, she could feel a tiny pin prick in her legs every time she put weight on them, and her heartbeat was steadily slowing down.
The first symptoms of fatigue.
Twilight knew that if she ever stopped, her life would end. If she rested for even one moment, the creature would catch her and she would join Princess Celestia and Princess Luna.
All around, the sounds of rustling grew louder. She knew her pursuer was upon her. It was only a matter of seconds until the creature dropped on her like a leopard.
With no prior action or warning, four long, spindly arms shot out of the bushes beside her.
Twilight toppled over to her side, and the eight-eyed face of the creature appeared next, fangs bared to strike.
The fangs of the creature struck downward, aimed for Twilight’s throat.
The young alicorn rolled to the side, and felt the fangs just barely miss her.
She rolled again as an arm reached for her, until she was against another tree trunk.
Two arms blocked Twilight from running, while two others reached for her.
Try as she did to run, Twilight’s tail and mane were caught. And she was lifted off the ground.
Twilight bucked frantically.
Her hoof impacted the wrist of the hand that held her tail.
The creature yelped and released her grip.
Twilight wrenched the other hand’s grip from her mane.
The moment she landed back on the ground, the creature raised three of her fists and thrusted them at Twilight, who dodged one after the other as she ran.
Twilight veered to avoid running into a tree, just as the tree was enveloped in a thick, sticky web.
Deducing the creature would attempt such a thing again, she tried to move again and tripped over a rock that was hidden by the snow.
Toppling to her side, she narrowly avoided being ensnared in another shot of webbing.
Hindered by the snow, Twilight scrambled to her hooves just as the creature skidded to a stop beside her.
She dodged another bite, and backpedaled away from each of the four arms that reached for her.
Twilight felt herself nearly trip on another rock hidden beneath the snow.
In a desperate move, she ducked beneath another grabbing arm, lifted the rock and threw it at the creature.
The creature dodged easily, and shuffled backwards from Twilight. Never taking her eyes from her prey, the creature crawled up a tree and disappeared into the snowy pines.
Twilight anxiously watched the darkened branches of the tree, trying to anticipate her opponent’s movements.
Unfortunately, the blowing wind kept her from being able to track the creature’s movements. A factor that nearly proved fatal.
Had it not been for a sudden surge of rustling, Twilight would never have heard the creature jumping from the tree behind her.
Without thinking, Twilight fell to the side, and allowed the creature to sink her fangs into the rocky ground beneath the snow.
Looking back as she ran, Twilight saw that once again the creature had disappeared without a trace. She was on the move again, looking for the next opportunity to ambush her.
Twilight could feel how her legs wanted to stop moving and collapse. She felt that at any moment she was going to simply drop from exhaustion.
Drop she did when a patch of snow gave way beneath her hooves, sending her into a tunnel that had been dug through the snow.
Twilight scrambled to reorient herself, only to be thwarted by the slippery walls of the tunnel. With every move, she only ended up back on her face.
Growing slightly dizzier with every failed attempt to stand, she instead started scuffling her hooves against the sides of the tunnel.
The going was slow, but Twilight was able to move forward.
Behind her, she could hear the opening she had fallen through collapsing.
Twilight crawled faster, feeling the chill breeze of the displaced air as the snow impacted behind her.
The exit to the tunnel was growing nearer. If she made it, she would be back in the open with the creature. If she stayed, she would be buried beneath the snow. Of the two, only one option provided her a chance to live.
She could feel the blizzard to her front, chilling the perspiration on her forehead.
The collapsing tunnel licked at her hooves and her tail, threatening to swallow her beneath it.
Breathing deeply, Twilight burst forth from the tunnel just as the entrance collapsed around her waist. After it, more snow slid down the bank and stuck her there.
Twilight wasted no energy to free herself. She writhed, wriggled and thrashed to escape.
A long, black arm reached for her from above. And it was joined by many more.
Twilight batted the arms away, fighting valiantly to not be ensnared by any one of them.
She could feel herself freeing from the tunnel. And with one missed swipe from the creature, the snow that bound her was scooped away.
Before she knew what was happening, Twilight went rolling down the snowbank and landed hard on her side. Shooting her gaze to the bank, she saw the creature clinging to a tree, staying perfectly still, eyeing her.
The creature slowly stepped one foot onto the side of the snowbank.
At the same time, Twilight rose to her wobbling hooves.
As if synchronized in perfect step, they rounded one another, slowly circling, never blinking.
Twilight knew what was happening. The creature was trying to goad her to where she couldn’t escape.
Quickly assessing the situation, Twilight guessed what would happen. The moment a tree moved between them, the creature was going to disappear again. And that would be when she made her move. To ensnare her with more webbing, or to directly plunge her fangs into her throat, Twilight knew she needed a plan for either.
Her hoof bumped something in the snow.
Glimpsing down, Twilight saw it was a fallen branch. One that looked large enough to put to some use.
She looked back up and the creature had stopped moving. Frozen, and with her many eyes locked onto Twilight.
Twilight fidgeted her hoof against the branch slightly, debating what to do next.
Behind the creature, she could see a thick patch of brush. One that looked large enough for a pony to hide in, but small enough for the creature to not be able to follow.
It was the only chance she had.
The creature stood silently, staring with fatal anticipation.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Twilight stayed perfectly still. She wasn’t going to play the creature’s game.
The creature clenched her fists in the snow. But, the young alicorn would not budge.
In her condition, Twilight knew that she was unlikely to make any move in time. Taking advantage of the staredown, she used the brief lull to recompose herself and let go of some of the tension in her muscles.
Her knees wobbled, waiting for the moment she let go entirely.
The creature glanced to the tree that was nearly between herself and Twilight. In a few short moments, she would be able to end her grisly mission. If only her prey would move.
Twilight stood firm, staring resolutely back. She was not going to move.
A thin waft of white seeped forth from the creature’s mouth.
“Don’t make this difficult for me. Run. Fight back. Anything,” the creature pleaded.
Twilight remained still and silent.
“I see…” the creature said.
She gently lowered herself to a crouch.
Twilight pulled her hoof over the branch.
“I’ll try to make this quick.”
No movement was seen. No sound was made.
The creature was already halfway to Twilight when she started lifting her branch.
Twilight held the branch nearly raised up to her chest when she felt the heavy impact of her opponent tackle her to the ground, and go sliding through the snow.
The branch was held against Twilight’s chest, who used it to stave off the creature, who was proving difficult to keep at bay.
Between the many arms and the lashing fangs, Twilight wasn’t sure how long the simple tree branch would hold off the creature. But, that wasn’t the worst of it.
The back of Twilight’s head had gone over the side of a precipice she hadn’t previously been aware of. As if the world had suddenly dropped out of being, there she was on the edge. And she could feel that she was squirming closer.
The creature held Twilight with her free hands and reared up to drive her fangs down.
Without even knowing that she was doing it, Twilight braced against the held branch and pushed herself beneath it.
She slid along the ground, pushing herself away from the edge.
The creature’s aim was thrown off by the maneuver, and bit into the branch Twilight held.
The sudden impact of the bite stopped Twilight from moving.
She was now face to face with her enemy, staring inches away at the eight eyes.
A wet, viscous fluid dripped onto Twilight’s shoulder. Quickly glancing, she saw it was dripping from the branch, exactly where the creature had bit into it.
Yelping loudly, Twilight shoved the branch back and forth, trying to shake off her attacker.
The creature tried keeping her hold, and reached many times for Twilight, only to miss the young alicorn.
Twilight was sliding back toward the edge.
The creature kept trying to grab at her. And in a moment, her hand missed the ground and thrusted right over the precipice.
It was the opportunity Twilight was waiting for. With her opponent thrown violently off balance, she shoved the branch she held in the direction of the creature’s momentum.
With almost no effort involved, she was able to throw the creature off of herself and scramble to her hooves.
The creature tried to stand and reach for Twilight again, only to slip and fall over the edge.
Twilight watched as the creature struggled to climb back up the icy precipice. And for a moment, she thought that her enemy would slip and fall to her demise.
The very idea made Twilight almost relieved to be rid of her, and nearly turned to leave so that she would not have to watch the moment it happened. But, she had turned too slowly.
There was something about the creature that brought a horrible memory to Twilight’s mind. The last enemy she had faced, whose life was in Twilight’s very hooves. How Twilight had failed to save her, and watched how she had met her own untimely end.
The creature slipped further down, and saw a flash of purple through the blizzard shoot toward her. In the next moment, Twilight dove across the snowy ground and clasped the creature’s hand in her hooves.
Twilight pulled as hard as she could, straining her already overworked muscles beyond their normal strength.
The creature held fast, and slowly regained her grip on the frost-slicked rocks of the cliff she was climbing.
Between their two efforts, the creature began climbing back up to solid ground.
Twilight was taken completely by surprise when the creature yanked her forward. But, before she could meet her opponent’s venom-soaked fangs, she pulled herself free and ran as fast as she could toward the thicket in the opposite direction.
The creature continued to climb her way back up, slowly rising over the ledge.
Twilight was nearly at the thicket, eyes fixed squarely on the opening.
Hoping she had been fast enough, she dove forward and crawled the remaining distance to safety.
She entered the dry underbrush, feeling the many pointed branches jabbing, poking and scraping at her.
On her shoulder where the creature’s venom had dripped, Twilight felt a sudden stinging, throbbing pain. Hoping against hope that some trace of venom had not seeped into a cut she sustained, she crawled onward.
Behind her, Twilight heard the sudden rustling of the thicket being crushed, and the loud yelp of the creature.
Her plan had worked.
Relief warmed Twilight more than if she had sat by a fire. And with gradually slowing breath, she stopped moving.
Her entire body ached, and her insides felt as if they had dried completely. The winds buffeted her from all sides, chilling Twilight to her very core. But, she didn’t care.
For the time, she had earned a reprieve. And when the time came that she was able to move, she would make good her escape from the creature.
Pete was bearing down upon Mickey and Rarity, cutting a wide swath as he charged with his snow shovel.
There was no time to think, when Mickey tried to untangle himself from Rarity’s hooves.
The two struggled to move away, but it was too late.
Pete scooped up his boatload of snow and slammed it down on top of them both.
He knew that would never be enough to outright kill Mickey. And if his experiences taught him anything, Rarity was just as difficult to finish off.
“Ain’t takin’ no chances here,” Pete grumbled to himself, as he pulled a keg of dynamite from his jacket and applied the fuse to his cigar.
The fuse sizzled brightly, and Pete tossed it to the mound of snow.
Before the keg ever landed, a single, mittened hand reached up through the top of the snow and caught it.
“Eh!?” Pete exclaimed.
Mickey rose from the top of the mound, riding on Rarity’s back, the explosive clutched in his hand.
“Much as ya wised up, yer still the same ol’ Pete!” Mickey declared.
“Mickey. Do please throw that dynamite away. Preferably now!” Rarity said.
“Uh, sure. You got it,” Mickey answered, realizing then he was holding a live explosive.
He tossed the dynamite directly back to Pete.
Pete caught it in his snow shovel and chucked it high into the air, where it exploded.
The light from the explosion was blinding, forcing Pete to cover his eyes.
With his eyes shielded, there was no way for the heavy to block the onslaught of snowballs that were thrown at him.
In seconds, he was covered in snow, and frozen solid within.
“Ha! See you ya like that!” Mickey gloated.
Beneath the ice that immobilized him, Pete turned dark red as his temperature rose. And the ice around him started dripping.
Rarity scrambled from the mound of snow that partly buried herself and Mickey, and slid down the side of it.
Mickey tried to climb off of Rarity’s back, only to be nearly swept off his feet when the fashionista glided forward. He held tightly around Rarity’s neck, hopping along, guessing that she had found some way to modify the boots she was wearing to double as makeshift skates.
The ice encasing Pete melted down to his jawline, allowing him to loose a fierce growl, before he broke free.
Wasting no time, he jammed his snow shovel into the ground and heaved a massive heap of snow over his head toward his opponents.
Keeping his grip on Rarity, Mickey turned back to look to Pete, and saw that he was recoiling his arms. Glancing up, he saw why.
“High noon, Rarity!!” the mouse shouted.
Rarity looked up and yelped when she saw the payload of snow dropping on her.
She had just turned her body to stop the very moment the snow landed inches before herself.
Unable to stop her momentum, Rarity reared back and went straight up the newly formed snowbank, and executed a sloppy somersault before landing back on the ground and skating off in a different direction.
A twinkle of light let them know Nagruk-pak’s squirrel companion was sitting atop one of the totem poles in the town circle. It hopped to another pole and looked back.
It was leading them somewhere. But they knew that before they went anywhere, they had to lose Pete.
However, Pete was already on their trail.
The squirrel had to hold tightly as the pole that it sat upon lurched violently.
Pete had jammed his snow shovel beneath the base of the totem pole and heaved it right out of the ground. Keeping it balanced in his scoop, he flung it directly at Rarity and Mickey.
The glimmering squirrel clung to the top of the flying pole, and watched as the world seemed to slow down as it flew toward the mouse and unicorn duo.
“Duck!” Mickey shouted.
Rarity needed no command, as she was already spreading her four legs as wide as they could go, until her chin was almost touching the snow.
The squirrel’s silvery eyes bulged when it saw the tip of Rarity’s horn lowering to its level and quickly scrambled to the side, where it landed back in the snow.
The totem streaked overhead, shaving off mere splinters as the very tip of Rarity’s horn brushed beneath it.
When it passed, Rarity was unable to stop herself, and she and Mickey were hit hard by the broad end of Pete’s shovel.
Mickey was knocked clear of Rarity, who went spinning away from him. When the mouse got up, he saw Pete had finished lighting the fuse of another keg of dynamite, and threw it to Mickey.
Taking a handful of snow, Mickey hurled a snowball at the explosive and froze it in mid-air, before it dropped harmlessly to the ground.
Pete batted away snowball after snowball that was thrown at him, gradually freezing his weapon. But, it was this that gave him the advantage.
Jamming his shovel to the ground, Pete clenched his teeth around his cigar and bellowed like a diesel engine, spewing a plume of black smoke from his mouth.
Mickey saw then that when he was hitting Pete’s shovel, he had been widening the scoop with a layer of ice that was building up on either end. Now, he was facing down the onslaught of a lethal snow plow.
Desperately, he dove to the side, throwing two snowballs one after the other.
Both projectiles missed their mark, and he found himself buried up to his waist in the snow as Pete plowed past him.
After sliding some distance, Rarity regained control of herself just before she crashed into a wall.
Pitching her front legs up again, she attempted to once again ramp herself up the vertical surface. She could feel her momentum carrying her upward. And this time, she was ready for what came next.
Kicking off of the wall, Rarity twisted in the air turning herself around and righting her hooves beneath herself.
Before her hooves even touched the ground, Rarity felt something swelling up inside of herself. The spirit of accomplishment and ingenuity that she had experienced many times in her own workshop. Only this time, she was doing a stunt that she knew would have made a certain juggler proud of her.
Holding onto the spirit of her beloved, Rarity landed on the ground and found herself facing Pete charging directly at her.
It was nothing. With her momentum already built, the fashionista knew what she had to do.
When Pete was upon her, Rarity shifted her weight upward and easily went gliding over the top of the mound of snow that was plowed toward her.
Pete looked up, and saw Rarity waving at him as she sailed over his head, before she landed behind him and skated toward Mickey.
Veering heavily, Pete tried to turn. If only he had been looking where he was going, he would have stopped before he crashed through the very wall Rarity had avoided, leaving a hole shaped like himself where he had hit.
Mickey was still trying to pull himself free of Pete’s wake when Rarity arrived to help dig him out. Once he was free, they both saw the glimmering squirrel motioning for them to follow it, before it darted off toward the trees beyond the village.
Not wanting to stay around and wait for Pete to catch them up, Mickey climbed onto Rarity’s back, holding tightly around her neck as she skated off after the squirrel.
The house that Pete had crashed into shook and bounced. Inside, the sounds of splintering wood, crashing furniture and shattering pottery violently clamored, until the heavy himself charged through the front door, ripping off the heavy curtain that hung there.
He quickly scanned the area and saw a silvern glimmer, just as it disappeared into the trees.
Pete angrily puffed on his cigar. He knew he could chase them down and continue their fight. But, at the same time he knew that there was only one conceivable place that the squirrel would be leading them. Somewhere that he had already visited himself before Mickey and Rarity had arrived.
Deciding that it would be more prudent to meet them there, Pete stomped his way toward a shortcut he knew, just as the house behind him crumbled to its foundation.
Wind blew across the ragged tops of the dry thicket. Huddled within, shivering under the cold, Twilight Sparkle waited.
The pain in her shoulder felt numbed by the cold, but still throbbed slightly. Shifting to her side, one of the dry twigs poked into her shoulder, sending a sudden shot of pain that traveled to the side of her neck and down her front leg.
Twilight recoiled from the pain, holding her shoulder, then froze completely.
The sudden movement had to have been noticed. Somewhere, the creature was going to come for her again. Somehow, her pursuer was going to find a way to circumnavigate the brush, reach in and pull her out.
For many seconds Twilight waited to hear a sound. For anything that was beneath the rustling of the brush and the howling of the wind. A step. A crack. A sudden downfall of snow from the trees above.
Nothing was heard, and Twilight felt a twinge of relief. The pain in her shoulder slowly subsided. Beneath her hoof, Twilight felt something that shouldn’t have been there. Something that was large and hard to the touch.
Slowly, she uncovered her shoulder.
Twilight’s heart sank at the discovery. A red scratch was raked across her shoulder. Around the scratch, her shoulder had swollen up and turned a sickly dark purple. And around that, her coat was stained with the dried residue of the creature’s venomous fluid.
As carefully as she could, Twilight took snow in her hoof and breathed heavily onto it. Slowly, the snow melted away, until it was thick and slushy.
Taking the slush, she rubbed her hoof around the swollen wound.
The sudden chill against her skin sent a wave of shivers through Twilight’s entire body. Much of the pain she felt before was now gone, numbed by the slush she liberally applied. Until another sting of venom seeped into the scratch.
Gasping sharply, she swallowed the urge to yelp, and continued to more quickly rub the affected area.
In seconds, the slush dripped away. The hoof Twilight had held it in was now number than the rest of her which was contacting the snow she laid in.
The wound was cleaned. Any trace of the dried venom was gone, and the pain she felt was more subsided than ever.
Hoping the poisoning was only superficial, Twilight slowly crawled onward through the brush, ready to make good her escape.
With every movement she made, her entire body felt as if it were crying out, begging her to stop moving.
Twilight knew she couldn’t stop. If she rested for too long the cold would end her life as easily as the creature.
Every inch was overbearingly slow. But, the more she moved, the more Twilight felt her body cooperating.
She had no way of knowing how long she had been dragging herself. But after so much time had passed, she saw the exit to the brush appear before her.
That was it. Her ticket to freedom lay in front of her. Just a few hooves away, and she would hopefully be far from the creature. But, even if she were, where would she go after?
No matter where she went, Twilight knew that the creature would follow her. No matter how far, how desolate, how isolated, there would be the fanged, many-eyed face of her hunter. She had abandoned her friends, and her magic was taken away. Nopony could help her. Not even herself.
In time, Twilight was upon the exit. The wind had stopped blowing momentarily, and all was completely silent. Beyond the edge of the brush, she saw another patch of the dry bushes twitch.
She froze, waiting to see who or what had done such a thing.
In the next moment, a small, white rabbit crawled into view.
Twilight quietly sighed to herself. Only a rabbit. Nothing more.
The sight of the rabbit brought to mind something that she hadn’t thought about since she was a filly.
When she was young, Twilight had read an anthology of folk tales from around the world. Among them was a story from Trottingham about a fox and a rabbit.
One day, a rabbit who was hopping through the forest found a fox caught in a trap. The fox begged the rabbit for help, pleading to be freed.
The rabbit was moved by the fox’s plea. But, was also wary. It asked that if it freed the fox, the fox would in turn not try to eat it.
The fox gave his word to the rabbit that the moment he was freed, the two would part ways and never see one another again.
Taking the fox’s word, the rabbit undid the trap and freed the fox. And the moment that it was free, the fox rushed forth and bit into the rabbit’s back.
The rabbit asked the fox, “Why did you go back on your word?”
The fox replied, “What did you expect? You knew what I was when you saved me.”
Twilight remembered how what the fox had said perplexed her so. All her life, she was told that all creatures who were given a second chance were happy to take it. And whenever she had given others a second chance, she had found the lesson to be true.
Everything she read about that story had been a complete reverse of what she had learned. And she began to think that perhaps saving the creature from her demise had not been the wisest action. Then again, it wasn’t a fox she had saved.
Her mind was made up. She was going to face the creature and end their encounter.
Once more, the wind began to blow. And before Twilight moved, something else had.
In the branches that hung over the brush, something moved through the screen of needles and snow. Something with coarse, dark hair, which moved without a sound.
That was how the creature had been moving so silently. She was waiting for other noises to mask her own movements.
Twilight felt slightly bolder, now knowing how the trick was done, and where the creature was hiding.
In its own thicket, the rabbit watched as Twilight slowly emerged into the open.
The young alicorn looked up, carefully watching the shape in the tree.
The rabbit slowly crawled out of hiding, careful not to alert Twilight to its presence.
The dark shape in the tree suddenly lashed out, leaping from the branches.
Twilight jumped at the sight, but quickly saw that it was a grey fox which had leapt onto the rabbit.
There was a brief struggle and the fox wound up tangled in the brush, allowing the rabbit to run free.
For a moment, the fox struggled against the brush, then pulled free. Once it had, it resumed its chase after the rabbit.
Unaware was Twilight of the presence in the branches that overhung where she was.
The branches bent under its weight, trembling with the same eager anticipation as the creature within them.
From the trembling, a pine cone fell and landed in the snow near Twilight.
As if somepony had told her what was coming, Twilight heeded the falling pine cone and dove in the direction the two animals had gone. Just as she landed, four spindly arms with a net of webbing stretched between them slammed into the snow.
Twilight didn’t stay to watch as the creature dropped from the trees into the clearing in the brush. She was already running as fast as she could to escape.
The creature took her net and heaved it at Twilight.
The net spun overhead, spreading to its full breadth as it lobbed toward its equine target.
Twilight was nearly out of its range, when the net entangled her both of rear legs.
With a yelp, the young alicorn rolled and tumbled through the snow, until she stopped with her face in the ground.
She rolled to the side, just as the creature’s fangs pierced the snow where she once was.
There was nothing else for it. Twilight knew she was out of options. She would have to keep rolling side to side, until she was caught and gouged by the fangs of the creature.
She jerked her head to the side, narrowly dodging a hand that reached for her, and found that her head was now facing down an incline.
It was the only bid she had for survival. And Twilight rolled the rest of her body down the slope.
The going was rough. Every bump felt like she was being tossed up and landing on concrete and the view of the spinning world was making her nauseous. However, it was taking her further from her opponent than what she would have been able to do with her legs bound.
The creature charged after Twilight, periodically losing her in the fog of the blizzard, and catching only glimpses of her lavender coat against the white.
She caught herself when she felt her frontmost leg step over a ledge into nothingness.
Twilight had gone. And the creature knew that there was only one direction she could have disappeared to.
Carefully, she reached her hand down the face of the cliff and found a spot to grip. After, she reached her other limbs down to take hold of the rocky face.
One hand grabbed onto a rock that was covered in frost and slipped downward.
Twilight stifled a gasp as she watched in mortified shock the great, black hand that slipped into view of her shelter beneath an overhanging rock.
The hand reached down past the shelf she perched upon and was followed by another. And then another and another.
Twilight never saw the creature’s entire body, assuming that she was somewhere more to the side of the opening. And after pulling the last bit of webbing, which had shredded during her downhill descent, from her legs, Twilight cautiously peered down the side of the cliff.
She just saw the last of many legs disappear into the haze down the face of the cliff and breathed a sigh of relief. But, Twilight knew it was not to last. Unless she found some way to escape, she and the creature would be dueling forever.
Only, there was no place for her to escape to. Not to her friends. Not back home. Not to Princess Celestia.
Trying to push those thoughts from her mind, Twilight carefully walked along the stony path of the shelf, trying to find refuge in a world that was now against her.