//------------------------------// // Frustrating Foliage // Story: Anamnesis // by Background Bystander //------------------------------// "I-wha-what just happened?" Ambrose sputtered, slowly rising to shaky hooves. "According to our brains, and those brownies, we've been spat out into a forest," Louis examined himself, "and we're still horses." He finally got up, attempting to stretch out his stubby limbs. Ambrose kept a keen eye on the branches, studying their swaying movements, "So what does that mean then? As to where we actually are?" "The living room still, more than likely," Louis glanced up at the smoldering star in the sky, burning once where the light hung, "What's left of it at least." "You can say that again, we fucking trashed the place! What didn't get eaten up by these trees literally crumbled away!" Ambrose hung his head and heaved a sigh. Perhaps it's best we're not there, I can't even begin to imagine how much this'll cost to fix. "Yeah...maybe using drugs as an escape mechanism wasn't the best idea we've had." Louis said before catching a glimpse at Ambrose's back. His wings were now filled with flightless feathers, many dangling broken from their sockets, "You alright? Looks like you took a hell of a hit back there." Ambrose gave them a slight fluff, causing a few to fall out, "I'm alright, branch in the hallway got a good whack on me, the bastard. Probably be feeling that one when this is all over." "If you say so man, those wings aren't catching any airtime any time soon." Ambrose shrugged slightly, "Wasn't booking any flights tonight anyways. I only just learned how to open them, I don't think they let you fly a jumbo jet on your first day of flight school." A faint smile appeared, "Besides I'm a tough gal, a smack from an overgrown shrub isn't putting me outta commission." He puffed out his chest as he flexed his muscles. "A tough ol' bird, like the one we get around in." Louis said with a smirk. "That's right." Ambrose giggled. "Yeah, and I think I'll put a lid on any future magical endeavors for the time being. Last one sent us somewhere...somewhere..." In the remnants of their residence's recent removal from existence, they were now standing on a beaten path within the forest. The trees towered around them, tops touching the sky as their gnarly roots gouged into the grassy surface. Impenetrable walls built from the bricks of brown and green foliage made looking through the clusters of tree trunks near impossible. The air was thick with a misty fog that seemed to decrease in transparency the deeper you delved into the depths of the forest. Smells of plants, both familiar and alien wafted into his nostrils, filling them with the sweet seductive scent of berries and flowers. His ears twitched to the sounds of rustling leaves, menacing creatures that lie in wait. Though not a cloud hung in the sky, the land was smothered in a blanket of palpable dread pouring out of every nook and cranny. "...somewhere I really don't want to be right now." Louis finished with a nervous tone. "Agreed, this place is giving me the creeps." Ambrose looked down both ends of the path before motioning to Louis, "Let's head down the way, with the less ominous looking fog." "As opposed to your average, everyday ominous looking fog? Yeah, I second that," Louis said, as he began to walk on wobbly hooves, "Man, now I really wish I had my regular legs back." "Sorry Lou Lou, looks like we're hoofing it from here," Ambrose said, before stopping, "...Shit, I said that out loud didn't I?" "Sigh...You did," Louis grumbled as they trotted down the trail. The walk went about as well as you'd expect: no sign of progress, aching legs, occasional groans of frustration and constantly checking to see if something isn't sizing you up for supper. Neither one had checked to see if there were any kind of landmarks they could tag for later, they more than likely going around in circles. Though it wasn't all bad, this never ending trot gave them plenty of practice with their new walking style. It wasn't second nature, but they weren't gonna be face planting every five seconds now that they found a rhythm. They didn't even need to watch their steps, something their necks would be eternally grateful for. However, this walking was doing a real number on them mentally, as the trees seemed to be nearly endless, almost as if they were repeating themselves after a short period. Their brains seemed to be skipping, never catching that next connection needed to create an exit. Eventually, Louis came to a stop, eyelids barely staying alert. Ambrose turned to look, “What’s the trouble?” “Calling a break, my legs are killing me,” Louis collapsed under a tree, a lush covering from the all-seeing sun in the sky. Silent. Celestial. Ambrose would’ve argued, but there’s no point to dispute something you wholeheartedly agree with, so took a spot next to him, leaning back on the large trunk. “Not for too long, though. We still got no clue what’s roaming free around us.” Free…”Everfree…” Louis found these words mumbling from his mouth. “Hmm?” “I-uhh, just had a name come to me…for the forest, I mean.” Louis picked his head up, scanning his surrounds, “…Yeah man, just sorta came to me, what do you think?” “Everfree?” Ambrose scoffed, “I think Ever-Lost is a better fit in my opinion, but I suppose that works too.” “Yeah…the Everfree Forest,” Louis smiled slightly, putting his head back down. A strange wave of relief washed over him, the fact that he could put a name to this place. Strange considering he wanted nothing but to never see it again, a wish that would be granted soon. It was most likely his brain acting up again, now that it didn’t have to focus on his limb’s repetitive motions. He now found himself caught in the swaying motions of the trees, softly singing an old tune to himself. A comforting song from a less comforting time a half-century past; it seems a little bit of imagination can go a long way. Either that, or we haven’t gone too far as a society since then, still going at each other’s throats for the most minuscule of mishaps. Shit, what would Fogerty do in this situation? Would he try to make any sense of it all, to use his talents to twist a tune of love and tolerance? No, he already gave us a blueprint for these troubling times. Run through the jungle, don’t look back. At least these thoughts were keeping him away from their peculiar predicament. It wasn’t a completely alien concept to him, plenty of times before he found himself stoned out of commission, but not like this. No anchoring to reality whatsoever. Swept out into a sea of paranoid delusions populated by ponies and trees, none of it made any sense. Ambrose shuffled a bit, leaning over to Louis, “Hey Lou, wanted to ask you about that bathroom thing, y’know since we got a minute.” Louis shook his head, “Save it, I already told you why I wouldn’t say.” “Just say it, you’re starting to annoy me with all this vagueness,” Ambrose said, “It can’t be as embarrassing as this whole mare thing for me.” “It’s not embarrassing, it’s just-“ Louis sighed, sitting up, “I went to the toilet, puked my guts out, and then my body decided to get rid of everything else.” “Oh, you pissed yourself…I see,” Ambrose scooted away. “No I didn’t piss myself! It was worse than that!” “So you shit yourself?” Ambrose recoiled. “What? No! I-“ Louis grumbled, rubbing his temples in frustration, “Not that kind of worse, more the fleshy kind of everything,” Ambrose looked confused, so he continued, “It felt like…my whole body was on fire, man, everything started dripping and peeling…I fucking tore my face off with these hands,” He shoved his forehooves in Ambrose’s face, “After that the shower took care of the rest of my body. There, finished.” Ambrose saw Louis’s face twist up, probably replaying the events in his head, “Well, at least that explains your bitter attitude…and the blood.” “Yeah, well there’s your summary. I’m not giving a full fucking book report.” Louis huffed, crossing his arms. Ambrose chuckled a bit, “And I thought I had it bad. I barely noticed my body changing until someone started screaming bloody murder,” He peered, catching an eye roll from Louis, “Only then did I realize I was becoming a horse. Not gonna lie, freaked me out just a little bit.” But now Ambrose could breathe a little easier knowing his trip wasn’t the worst, though it did suck Louis was on the receiving end. Seemed to be par for the course the last couple of months, perhaps years. They had only just started catching up again after a long hiatus of focusing on their own lives, separated by states. The cool breeze passed through his fur, causing a hoof to twitch, “Alright, no more moping around, we gotta keep moving.” Louis groaned, “Five more minutes, man? I’m really digging this bark, nice and sturdy,” he traced a hoof down the trunk, giving it a few dull knocks. He closed his eyes again with a tired smile. Ambrose snorted and gave the tree a forceful strike, causing the tree to shake violently. And an enormous mass to fall on top of Louis. “AAAHHH! IT’S GOT ME! IT’S FUCKING GOT ME! RUN AMBROSE! RUN!” Louis screamed, struggling to slip free of the object. Yet with every kick and pull, it seemed to ensnare him even tighter into a straight jacket of string. “IT’S A FUCKING SPIDER! NO!” “Louis…” “I’M SORRY AMBY, I’M SORRY FOR BEING SUCH A DICK! FOR EVERYTHING!” “Louis.” “TO THINK IT WOULD END LIKE THIS-“ “LOUIS!” “FUU-huh, wha?” He stopped moving, finally getting a chance to see what had caught him. It was a cube-like contraption made of wooden sticks and multiple panels of paper in a rainbow of pigments. Connected to it was a long, thin string now finding itself spooled around the spooked stallion. “What the-wha-is this a fucking kite?” Louis exclaimed. Ambrose grinned, giggling to himself, “Yeah, you just got ambushed by a kite.” “Oh ha-ha, this just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?” Louis attempted to unwind himself, only to tangle himself even further, “Can I get a hand, man?” He barked. “Sure, I’ll lend you a hoof,” Ambrose said with a devious grin. “Fuck you.” After a slow sequence of stripping and snapping of strings, Louis had been freed of his paper-mache prison. “This is getting stupid, who the hell uses a kite as a trap?” He shouted, kicking the kite to the side. “A trap?” “Yeah, man, last time I checked we don’t have any kites in the house, unless you got some weird hobbies I don’t know about,” Ambrose shook his head, “Exactly, so someone’s screwing with us.” Louis trotted back and forth in thought, “I knew it, I fucking knew it. She’s gotta be behind it, no other way…” “Who are you talking abou-“ Ambrose caught on, “It’s not Nicole Lou. She’s long gone by now. Nobody’s setting any traps on us.” “How would you know if that girl-that bitch-isn’t pulling some shit?” “Because I’m the one who actually met her,” Ambrose retorted. “For like five seconds, on a drug deal!” “I’m telling you, she didn’t seem like that kind of person.” “Then who could it be, Amby? Is Charlie waiting in the weeds to come kill us?” Louis replied sarcastically. “No, but if you keep screaming and breaking shit…in a neighborhood, someone definitely will show up.” Ambrose stated. "What do you mean?" Louis asked before it clicked, “…No…you don’t think-they wouldn’t…we haven’t had any problems here for months, man! They wouldn’t do something as cruel as that, would they?” Louis’s heart began to race, movements becoming skittish and frantic. The only times they’d been called was just for mere noise complaints, called in by those who were too busy dealing with the stick up their ass than to allow anyone to escape with the heinous crime having a bit of fun into the late hours of the night. He’d had a few run-ins with them before back in his hometown, before fleeing over to the west coast. Even if the people’s attitudes were different, theirs remained constant—a brutal, unforgiving, unfeeling constant. Even now, he could hear the rhythmic thumping of that cold, oppressive march, trampling everything they came across in big black boots. Off somewhere in the distance, becoming louder, steadier. That’s when Ambrose began shaking him, “Louis, back to reality please!” Louis looked at him with glassy, unfocused eyes, “You hear that too, don’t you?" Those boots were real, and they were coming closer. As their ears twitched and turned to the distant steps, a new sound could be heard: voices. Louis was shaking in place, unable to move as one simple thought managed to whimper out, “Cops.”