Clip stumbled around the thin tree trunk, panting in exertion. He’d been running for a near impossible amount of time. His neck and shoulders still screamed in pain even though the skin had mended. A day and a night had passed, leaving him to watch the sunrise through the thin grove of birch trees he now stood in. He had no clue where he was now, only that it was far from where his home had been. His home…
Thatched straw roofs and stone chimneys leaking smoke in the early morning as meal was cooked and hooves warmed. The packed dirt that made the road leading from house to house, bare of any vegetation. Each of the one room log houses presented little gardens in the front, carrots, peas, tomatoes, and potatoes all grew in well tended rows. It wasn’t much, but with the crops of afar and the shared store, it would last them the harsh winters that bashed the Equus plain.
Then there were the inhabitants of the village itself. Only a few dozen ponies, probably less than seventy, lived in a small clump in a clearing much like the one he was looking out at. Forest and swamp surrounded their little village, a small path barely worn into the ground the only path out. Few knew of the town, and even fewer visited. More often than not, the year passed without a single foreigner, and the ponies were fine with that. They had their own little place in the world, and they were fine with the bit it was.
With a fond little smile, he remembered the gleepony that had visited not two years ago. The leaves of the surrounding forest had begun to yellow, when suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, a cart had rolled into town. A pony with a dull gray mane and bright yellow coat had presented himself to the villagers. He’d performed all kinds of tricks, from juggling six balls without magic to causing smoke to leak from a stone. The thing that Clip had loved the most, however, was when he had pulled out a lyre.
Carefully handling the instrument, the gleepony had strummed the strings in quick succession before bursting out in an energetic tune. Laughter and dancing filled the small village square as older ponies began to stomp to the rhythm and younger ponies matched up. After observing his older brother dancing with one of the other fillies, he had offered to dance with Violet. Laughing joyously they had thrown themselves into the fray, hooves moving, eyes smiling, and heads knocking. Oh how he wished it were still so.
Gritting his teeth in a grimace as the pain in his neck spiked suddenly, he stepped out into the clearing. It was relatively large, green hills stretching out until they reached another forest. From where he stood, he could see a small blue lake in between to larger hills, a small flat place pointing to him. He began trotting that way, the ground beneath him squishing slightly, no doubt from the rain of the gray clouds he’d been chasing in the earliest hours of the morning.
When he came upon the lake, he took a long draw from it’s clear blueness. As the ripples vanished, he found himself staring at his reflection. His eyes, deep blue stared back. He tried to peel them away from himself, but they stayed, scanning the entirety of his body. His thin legs, his short body, his frayed tail and mane, his caramel coat completely obscured by the swamp mud. As soon as he noticed it, he realized how itchy and uncomfortable it was. The dried mud clung to him in clumps, scratching the sensitive skin underneath his short coat.
Without hesitation, he leapt into the water, yelping at the sudden shock of its cool depths. As he resurfaced, his breath came out in short, sharp gasps as the frigid water seeped into the very marrow of his bones. Wading for a minute to let the chill pass, he wiped the mane from his face. The blue water around him darkened slightly as the coated mud began to wash off, the brown tainting the reflected sky. Running his hooves through his mane and coat, he began to scrub himself down, cleansing the filth of almost two days of running. As he did so, he noticed something strange.
His caramel coat was now darker, and not from the mud or water. The short coat he bore now was a darker brown in color, almost all of the lighter color drained from the colt’s bodice. He noticed the same thing about his mane, flecks of gray showing in his mane. Remembering the occurrence of the night he had been attacked, he briefly wondered what exactly had happened. Was that merely his delirium showing in his eyes, or was there more to it? Was it possible that he had transformed to one of the lycans, become the same monster that had taken Violet?
Shaking his head fiercely, he refused to entertain the thought. His mind had been muddled by the attack, and he was reading too much into simple coincidences. His father and mother had told him his coat would darken slightly over the years as he matured. How had it happened so fast, though? Maybe the stress and brutality of the attack had triggered the sudden changes? He didn’t know much about how his body worked, but it made sense to him. Mother and Father had said age only came with experience.
But why was he still running? Why was he running away from his home and loved ones? Why wasn’t he racing back to the comfort of the village, to warn them of the danger in the swamps and how it had taken Violet? He certainly wasn’t running away from the creature who had attacked him. He was no safer here, in the open lake, than in the swamp with the monster. Not at all.
There were still wolves and bears and foxes, thieves and brigands on the road. But here there wasn’t any road, and certainly no brigands or thieves. Only empty hills surrounded by forest and mountains. Great big mountains, they were too. Near impassible by foot by any guess. Snow stil dusted their peaks, and the forest vegetation below was thick enough that the entire mountain from the base to the halfway up was green. Gray stone was all that was between green and white, giving the mountains a look as if they were a pony wearing a wool cap and green stockings.
Clip realized that the water he was swimming in was probably snowmelt from the cliffs above. He could actually make out a thin blue line when he searched for it, though it disappeared after it hit the green treeline. It did explain the chill of the water, and the freshness of its taste, as if it had been graced by Celestia herself. Suddenly, he realized that he would be in the perfect position to see the Princesses’ fabled city, Canterlot, from where he now swam. Turning his head towards the north, he was disappointed to find himself staring as the sloping green side of a hill.
Swimming to the edge of the water, he raced onto the land, rushing up the hill with urgent speed. Coming to the top, he could see the distant mountain, a mere fable in his village. However, even though the distance had to be dozens and dozens of miles, he could see the great city of Canterlot. And there, barely a speck from this distance, was the great and marvelous castle, where the monarchs of Equestria rule. Even from here he could sense the grace and power held in the structure alone, the silent show of force and culture that could never be matched by its many enemies.
Silently relishing the sight in awe, he paused to think out what was to come for him. He could continue on across this hilly clearing and into the forest beyond. There was sure to be food and fresh water there, maybe even another village if he was lucky. On the other hoof, he could head towards the great city and seek out a life there, maybe even help if indeed his slightest fears were confirmed. Who knew, maybe one of the Princesses themselves would help him to heal completely from the wounds he bore and hone in his abilities.
As soon as he gave the thought a second thinking, he realized how impossible it would be. There were miles of rugged mountain to trek through, and wide rivers to cross with currents strong enough to break boulders. Not to mention the fact that if he were to meet up onto any road, he would be susceptible to the bandits and brigands. Then there would be the actual ponies themselves in the villages and towns on the road. If he was turning lycan, he couldn’t live with himself if he hurt anypony there along the way. No, the forest was better.
Determination setting his jaw shut and encouraging him to set out, he began stepping across the soft, wet ground once again. A wind started picking up from the west, carrying with it small clouds and taking the smell of the rain. His mane blew about his face, the gray speckles in them taunting him in the corners of his eye. He refused to let his thoughts turn to that of what might be, instead focusing on what he must do. The wind seemed to carry the weight of his legs for him, nigh picking him up and flying him to the waiting forest. He had to tarry about the hills carefully lest he stumble down the sloping lengths.
The expanse was larger than Clip had initially thought, the terrain deceptively concealing the long draughts in between hills. The green grass was rather bitter, he found, as he began snacking on the long, uncared for blades to maintain his strength. As slippery and soft as they were to the touch, they were to chew. More than once he resorted to spitting out a clump of the green grass as they refused to be chewed and swallowed correctly. Grumbling at the misfortune, he distantly wished for some of the threaded hay patties, cooked in oil with cheese and parsley on top. A distant meal from where he stood.
The hills began to pass in slower and slower progression as the weariness of running without sleep for the previous day and night without rest caught up with him. He found himself fighting against the weight of his eyelids more than the weight of his legs the longer he tried to ignore it. He mentally told himself that he could rest once he reached the safety of the forest, but his body told him he’d collapse halfway there. Finally, he resigned himself to his tired nature, and he began to scan the hills for any signs of cover he could use.
Climbing to the crest of another of the green mounds, he found himself facing a little flat before it reached a bluff sparsely crowned with a myriad of towering flower bushes and trees.sighing contentedly with the discovery, he began to tread up the steeper hill atop a hill. This would do fine. He would climb into one of the trees, possibly find a soft portion of leaves or a discarded bird's nest, and rest there.
The early morning light had turned to near noon, but to his fatigued body, it might as well have been midnight during harvest season. He was able to keep his head in control long enough to find a comfortable and safe spot in the tree where he could lay without danger. He drifted into a sleepless black realm, no dreams or nightmares visiting him as he rested. His mind became merely a vessel of darkness, refusing thought and action in kind.
When he finally drifted back to consciousness, the day was turned dark and the waning moon shone brightly over the plains, giving it an eerie flow that gave Clip warmth for some reason. He found that his back was now resting on the rough bark of the oak branch, and groaned at the discomfort he felt in between his shoulders. Sitting upright on his branch, he found that the sky was visible directly above him, the stars shining almost as brightly as a stove fire. He gave the winking lights a soft smile, silently marveling at a beauty he had yet to appreciate in his life. Yes, he could see why some would argue that Princess Luna’s kind nights were superior to Princess Celestia’s harsh days.
Leaping the distance down the tree to the ground, he felt the soft grass brace his impact. He landed on his hooves, finding it easy to steady himself in the cushion-like ground, and to his surprise, the slight gilt from landing didn’t cause any amount of pain in his shoulders. Smiling even brighter, he looked around to find the best course to the forest. There wasn’t much impeding his path in any direction, nothing but grassy hills for a couple more miles with the occasional tree or stream or pond, and many of those hidden from sight in the dips between the hills. Deciding straight would be the best guide for him, he set off, the blue moonlight lighting his path.
After three slightly larger hills, he reached a small ravine with a stream running through the bottom. Climbing down the mossy rock face carefully, he observed the crystalline water. There were a few small fish swimming in it, the current gently guiding them but not forcing their way any quicker than they desired. Lapping up the sweet water, he was surprised to find that this water, unlike the snowmelt streams and rivers from the mountains, was warm. Curious, he followed the water up until it ran underneath a series of large rocks and into the ravine wall. After a brief amount of time investigating the area, he found that there was a small, dark crack in the rock race. Huffing with frustration that that was the only visible entrance aside from the space the water was coming through, he punched a hoof into the face.
The rock shattered easier than glass in winter, crumbling to the ground and rolling into the water with quiet splashes. Clip’s eyes widened at the now large hole in the face, large enough for him to easily crawl through, maybe even walk through, if he were to crouch. Slowly looking down at his hoof, he carefully raised it to his face, half scared that it too was shattered. The keratin, however, showed no signs of splits, rather, other than the regular scratches formed from travel, he found it in better condition than he had ever seen before. Smiling, he turned his gaze back to the black hole in the rock face. Crouching so low that the fur on his stomach was grazing the mossy rock beneath him, he entered the cavern.
The rock clenched onto his fur, scraping at his skin as he crawled through the darkness. It seemed that the crack had led to a small tunnel probably formed by reserve rainwater that flowed in and through the crack. The tunnel was long dry, the lichen crumbling as he passed by it, but the air was moist and warm, and perhaps even a little more humid than the marshes. The rock became sharper the further he went, the jagged edges scraping at his skin in an attempt to break. To Clip’s surprise, his skin felt rougher, like a carrot left too long in the sun, and refused to break against the assaults of the terrain. He had begun to notice it, actually, when the bark of the trees and the raking branches of bushes had failed to cause him harm.
Suddenly, with merely more than a pull, he was in the main chamber of the cavern, the sound of rushing water filling the air as much as the steam. His eyes had been given time to adjust to the darkness as he crawled through the darkness of the tunnel. He was grateful for it, as he was now able to view the majesty of the depths of Equus.
A waterfall, nearly thirty spans tall, fell from above, the water foaming and frothing at its base. The ceiling of the cave, at least fifty spans above, was sprinkled with an assortment of gems, all shining brilliantly in blues, greens, purples, teal, pinks, and other indescribable colors. His grin returned in full as his gaze slowly took in the rest of the chamber, the clay gray walls smooth in contrast to the sharp tunnel he had emerged from. Here and there, gems dotted the walls, and he even spotted veins of gold running across the walls like creepers on a tree. To his left was a series of rugged ridges stuck out from the stony black wall, forming a rough staircase to the waterfall’s source.
He climbed the steps, his hooves ringing off the stone like brass on steel and echoing throughout the chamber. His jaw hung freely as each second more marvelous wonders were revealed to him as the darkness faded from his eyes. Plants, green and fresh, sprung from forbidden corners of the cavern, leafy despite the complete lack of sunlight. Others, long strings of moss and lichen, hung from the stalactites and crawled up stalagmites, lining the gray with green, giving the dead cavern life. When he reached the top, however, his jaw snapped shut, his eyes widening instead.
If the cave before had been beautiful, this one had no word in any language to describe the splendor and majesty of this new one. The water came bursting from the ground in the center of this newer chamber, raining in a golden flower of sprinkling water. The color came from the strong light of the gold reflected from the tiniest bits of sunlight that crept through little holes in the ceiling, reflected and refracted through various crystalline gems that lay embedded in the walls. The walls themselves looked as if they were made of the finest silver in Canterlot, glistening with the water that had soaked and smoothed the stone. The entire chamber was damp with the steam of the hot springs, Clips mane and coat matted to his skin in a way that he found pleasant, like a warm rain after a harsh winter.
He traveled deeper into the chamber, finding the plants in this area of the cavern even greener than the ones in the previous chamber. They seemed proud to be growing in such a place, each one without a frayed ending or bent stem. They seemed almost golden with the light on them, like in the great tales of golden places and heavenly views. Chuckling softly to himself, Clip knew that none of the storytellers or gleeponies could have imagined such a place as the one he’d found, nor would they ever. It seemed as if the Mother of Equus had taken her grace and majesty along with the Father’s Sun and Moon and implemented it in one place. In Clip’s mind, he knew that no place could ever rival this cavern's beauty, nor anything be called beautiful unless it too were like this cavern.
He forced his eyes from the view, instead slowly plodding forward, into the spray of the gushing water. The warm droplets fell quickly but softly, settling on his fur and spreading warmth over the entirety of his bodice. It felt as if he were being gently wrapped in a moist, warm blanket in front of the fire after autumn’s first frost. A sense of homesickness settled over him as he stared into the spray of soothing water. He briefly wondered if he would ever see the first frost on the fields on his family’s farm, the shimmering white crystals sparkling in the early morning sunlight. The thought was instantly shot down by some sort of instinct that there was no place left for him back in his home, nor song any other inhabited area. For some reason, however, the thought wasn’t as soul-crushing as he should have felt it to be, rather, he acknowledged it, looked around him at the golden caverns, and decided it was his home. At least, until he found someplace possibly with a better entrance and easier access to food.
He shook his head. A strange image had popped into his mind when he had thought of food. Instead of imagining a golden loaf of bread or ripe string of grapes from the vineyard, he had imagined a fish, raw and wriggling. He shivered, blaming it on the nightmare he’d had on the night of his attack. It had been terrible, imaging himself eating another living creature, even if it was to sustain him. He had been surprised that he had awoken to the rising sun and not the Royal Guard on Princess Luna’s orders to lock him up for being a monster. Actually, if the Royal Guard had any reason to be there, it had to be because of what had happened to Violet.
Violet…
Screams of pain echoed in Clip’s head, the sound of snapping bones replacing the sound of water on stone. The rushing water became the sound of draining blood, and the crashing of the waterfall the snarls of the demon being that had taken his friend. The feeling of a stomach, filled on the blood and entrails of his dearest friend, made his stomach roil like a pot boiling over.
Gulping down bile, he sniffled slightly, letting sorrow and despair wash over him for the first time since the attack. He moaned slightly, mourning the loss of his dearest friend and loved one. He had been sure beyond youthful foolishness that if he were to ever marry somepony, it would have been her. There was no comfort in the warm water that now dripped from him, as his tears too began to flow in stream with them. A small bit of anger crept through his heart, running through it like pumping blood, but it was doused in the cold of sorrow.
He cried for an amount of time he couldn’t keep track of, maybe ten minutes, maybe ten hours, but either way, it felt like ten years. When he finally awoke from his tearshedding, however, he awoke with a set jaw. He may be unable to avenge Violet for the wrongness of having her taken so young, but he would find a way to prevent another tale such as hers.
He looked around and spotted a crevice in the wall face. Walking up to it, he peered through the cracked stone, easily large enough to allow him passage. Beyond it lay a short length of stone till it reached shoots of grass, and beyond that, ferns and trees. He deduced quickly that this was another part of the cave, but instead of running out into plain, it ran out into the forest he had seen. Setting his eyes in a hard squint, he could see sunlight brightening the grass and trees, but not the short stony patch to his little view point.
Climbing through the narrow enclosure, he exited in a rather small cave. The ceiling was only four or five spans above his head, easy enough a fit for a full grown stallion, but rather hard for a creature as such he had been attacked by. Perfect cover. The entrance was also hidden near completely by a wall of greenery, sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy. Trees of all sizes barred the path save for one that was tall enough to pass under the branches of. Ferns, some as tall as the smaller trees, shot up in every place where a tree or bush wasn’t, and even then there were exceptions. Everything was a brilliant bright green, but still inferior to that which was in the very cavern they guarded. Smiling, Clip knew that nopony would find him here.