Weeks passed by, countless and featureless. The only way to entertain himself while time passed over and over was to visit the forest. As the weeks turned to months, he became more and more familiar with it, and became less and less fearful of what lay within. There would be the occasional howl of the accursed Timberwolve, and then silence for the next few days. Nothing in the forest except its winding intricacies were a danger to Clip, and he knew it.
He explored the deeper parts of the forest first, reasoning that if he was to know any true dangers, it would be farther from the home he had found, where the branches of the trees intermingled. Creepers, vines, and thistles were twice as prominent as the clustered trees, the plants barring his path for spans in either direction in some places. While they were rather annoying, the reward for finding a path past them was well worth the struggle.
Beyond was a stream that ran with frequent life. Fish swam along with the streams current, the cool water rushing over smooth and shining stones. Rabbits, deer, squirrels, and other woodland creatures crowded the banks for fresh water. Here and there, as he traversed up and down the stream, there were pools, some larger than a house, in which the animals gathered in crowds and fish clumped together in large schools. He began bathing frequently in the cool pool the next closest to his home, nary a ten minute hike once he’d memorized it. Even though the ten minutes seemed short, and the distance short, the winding and intertwining branches and plants of the forest would play tricks on his mind, deceiving him for distance for the first few weeks. Eventually, though, he did memorize the area in which he resided, and began to move beyond that, into where the trees were so dense no sunlight, save for pinpricks, gave him sight.
It was among those strange and twisted areas where he found himself most comfortable, however. The forest was too dense for any other than small critters to live there, and not enough food for mosquitoes to live. He was free of any concern of Timberwolves too, for they were no spaces big enough for them among the tangled vegetation. He would explore through entire days, and sometimes even through the night, familiarizing himself with the chaotic landscape. He made sure that nothing ever followed him, not even the least curious and smallest of woodland creatures, a paranoia that it would lead to his discovery.
As the weeks turned to months in the cavern, and autumn to winter, he began to create a system to keep him warm through the coldest days. He would take piles of snow from outside and line the inner caves with it, allowing the steam to melt it by midday and it to refreeze at night. It created an icy ventilation system, that allowed only a little of the winter’s freeze through, while keeping the cavern warm in the nights. He congratulated himself for his success, but realized rather quickly that his next biggest concern was food. The plants in the cavern were bitter and hard to chew, almost inedible, and the grass and regular plants he had been eating had died. They, too, weren’t the tastiest, even when the deep, shining beckoned him for a nibble.
There were times when, in desperation for fear of starvation, he would chew the cave reeds, sucking in the bitter juices and enduring the tough stalks for their scant nourishment. Times were tough in the winter, tougher than he would have guessed, and more than once he found his thoughts drifting to the forbidden topic of his attack. During those times when his thoughts drifted, he would either force himself to eat a full reed, or step out into the frigid snow banks outside of his home. Doing this, he forced himself to forget the fateful events of the night and the frightening thoughts of possible aftereffects.
The winter passed slowly, snow rising enough to completely block him in on either entrances. To entertain himself in the lonely days, he would begin to take reeds and dip them into the hot water of the springs. Using their wet tips, he would draw a picture of something, anything he thought of. His goal was to draw the full picture of what he was thinking of before the water seeped into the stone. More than once, he found himself drawing a makeshift map of the landscape around him, and it was at that moment that he decided to begin drawing out a map once spring came.
For the rest of the harsh winter, he stayed isolated, alone in the warmth of his cave. Even the caves splendor and beauty couldn’t entertain him as the dead sun of winter was barely able to emit a glimmer from the gold laced walls. He found himself sleeping through entire days, and when he wasn’t sleeping or drawing, he was impatiently pacing the cavern. He had even gone to the point where, recalling memory, he was able to draw the gold veins in the room with the actual hot springs. A dull, lifeless five months of winter pushed him to the edge of misery from sheer lack of entertainment, and it was a welcome sight when, one day, the entrance facing the hills was suddenly filled with sunlight.
He rushed out without concern for who or what saw, joyful that Celestia’s spring had finally released him from the cold of winter. Snow, still a good six inches deep, layered the depths of the ravine, and a thin sheet of ice crusting the stream. Even so, it was cracked from the heat, a sure sign that the cold grasp winter had on the land was being released.
He climbed out of the ravine for the first time since he’d entered, and looked around at the surrounding hills. Here, where the sun shone through the day, snow was only existent in small, white streaks on yellowed hills, the grass dead from months of cold and shadow. The colt traveled all over the open plains that day, seeing no other creatures but himself as he explored better. He figured that it must have been that the lingering cold had kept them in hibernation, but a note of disappointment entered the thought.
Maybe he just missed the sight of other living creatures after only having himself for company. Yes, yes it must be that. No other reason, no other reason at all. Just his wandering mind forming idle conspiracies and false truths. Nothing more, and everything less.
There was no doubt in his mind that Clip’s mind had been changed due to the attack, he could feel as much. No, what was different was that he could feel it pressing itself deeper and deeper into his mind, like ink into a sheet of parchment. It plagued him, making him doubt as to exactly what was going on with his mind, or if it was even his mind anymore.
He growled at himself for the thoughts, turning towards where he was almost completely sure the lake was. He wanted to visit it, to see what it looked like iced over, maybe to even walk on it. No, not walk on it. That was a foolish thought. The ice could be thin, and the water frigid. He would fall through and wouldn’t be able to get out.
Then at least his struggles would end, a voice in the back of his mind whispered.
Clip shivered, staring towards the great break in the hills that marked where the lake would be. “N-no… Th-they wouldn’t,” he spoke out loud, trying to shut out the voice. He took a shaky step forward, but then decided otherwise about the lake, turned tail sharply, and hastily strode back home.