//------------------------------//
// The Captured 
// Story: Up Through the Roots 
// by RangerOfRhudaur 
//------------------------------//

She awoke on the sandy floor of a cave, walls of brown stony roots spiraling up into pitch. There was light enough to see, but she couldn't see its source, if it even had one.

She scrambled to her feet, looking around for the wolf, but it was gone; there was only her, the cave, and one tunnel out, sloping down into the dark.

Hesitantly, she began making her way down the tunnel, running one hand along the wall to avoid getting lost. She needn't have bothered, though; the tunnel never branched and never turned, only continued its downward march, deeper and deeper into the earth, before opening up into another cave.

A miniature forest lay inside, thick with canopy and branch and undergrowth. Trunks wider than she could wrap her arms around, swaying vines as thick as rope, boughs laden with leaves and blossoms, a floor tiled with shrubs, roots, soil, and mold. Clouds nestled in hollows, while grooves of bark formed the banks of streams. The world was the forest, and the forest was the world.

A chorus of crows exploded to her right, and she carefully, quietly, navigated her way over. She found them perched around a small glade, cawing and croaking down at a dead wolf, fallen to a crude spear in its side.

"What predator," they called. "what manner of beast this be, that slays its prey with limb of tree?"

And then, in her bones, Wallflower heard the forest's reply, rattling through her like an earthquake:

"No beast that you have seen before; 'tis tribe of Men who left this sore, a tribe who recent came to light and shall from now our fair land blight."

The crows croaked in dismay, then fled, fled from their newly-learned foe. But the forest couldn't flee, and so, without the option of flight, it turned to fighting, to hatred, hating the tribe of Men, and hating her, a Man. Wallflower almost collapsed beneath the sudden weight of its hate, and then witlessly ran again, trying to escape the vines that lashed at her, the roots that tried to trip her, the trees and bushes that pressed upon her, pressed out what little light she could see, turning green to midnight. The forest closed in on her, choked off the light, but still she tried to claw her way out, crawling towards the small, sole point of light the forest left her, a tiny beacon of green in a sea of pitch, a sea she was drowning in, being pulled under-

-and then breaking free from, gasping as she burst out of the wood. She galloped back down the tunnel she'd came by, desperately treading its downward-sloping path in flight from the hateful forest whose vines still grasped at her heels.

Eventually, she managed to return to the cave from which she'd set out, only now another occupant awaited her, a young man clad in muddy felt.

"Hey," she panted in greeting. "Do you know where we are? Down that way," she pointed back up the tunnel. "there's some sort of forest, a really angry one. I barely managed to escape from it alive. Do you know anything about it?"

The man turned to look at her with a bemused smile. "If Everfree truly wished you dead," he replied, his voice gentle and quiet. "you would not have escaped. Naught passes underneath her eaves that she does not know of, and she has many claws with which to catch her prey. No, she did not desire your harm, for harmed you have not been."

"Tell that to the claw marks on my back," she retorted.

"Even many claws, prey may still escape," the man shrugged. "and the stars are not right for her to wield them all. But that time draws near; a sixth star burns in the night sky, and the seventh is almost born. The five begat the sixth, and the sixth begets the seventh, and the seventh begets the spring of magic. When spring dawns, Everfree shall walk again, and wield all her claws once more." Drawing a small harp out of his jerkin, he played a short, sweet song on it, notes like roses echoing off the walls. The comfort those notes provided managed to overpower Wallflower's confusion at his words, at least for the moment.

But then he looked back up at her, face grim. "The dark throne stirs, as well," he continued. "while our other allies sleep. The alicorn is all tribes, and without it we shall not win."

"I don't understand," she replied, frowning.

"You do not," he nodded. "But you will." Then, while she simply stood stunned, he strode away up the tunnel.

"Wait!" she called out as he left. "That doesn't make any sense! None of that makes any sense!" Hearing his footsteps continue away, she quickly followed him, inwardly crying at the thought of having to face that forest again.

As it turned out, though, she didn't; the tunnel led somewhere completely different this time, emerging into a chamber of the Crystal Caverns. Wallflower beamed; she had an idea of where she was, now. All she had to do was hug one of the walls and keep heading up and she would make it back. The nightmare was almost over.

Before she could start, though, a woman wearing what looked like wooden armor stepped into the crystal-light, eyes glinting green in the gem's glow. Shortly afterwards, she was joined by a man, one wearing a faded Camp Everfree jacket and well-built khakis. His hair was grey rather than green, and his skin was duller, but even from a distance Wallflower could see the resemblance between Timber and his father.

"Stumper," the man grunted.

"Willow," the woman nodded. "What news do you bring?"

"The boy has the gift," he replied, faintly smiling. "The water breathes for him when he swims already."

"Train him well," she nodded. "And his sister?"

The smile faded. "Her mind's of metal and numbers," he replied. "She'll run the camp, but the mission must be the boy's. She tries to understand, he understands that it's not his place to."

"Keep her safe," the woman sighed. "Teach her what you can, and keep her safe."

"I will," the man nodded. "What news do you bring?"

"A broken circle, and another cache. I left it at the usual place."

"Many thanks," he mumbled. "For some reason, the kids love alfarrows. Probably because they haven't seen them used."

"You haven't either," Stumper quietly replied.

"I don't need to," Willow snorted. "Everfree has, and she told me what they're like. I may not know much, but one thing I do know is this; listen to Everfree. It just might save your life."

Stumper nodded, then gave a strange gesture of goodbye. Willow returned it, then stepped back into the shadows and disappeared. Stumper shook her head, faintly chuckling, then left herself, heading deeper into the caves.

Wallflower left as well, clambering up through the maze of the Crystal Caverns. 'The Realm of Pluton,' Timber called it, caverns of unknown depth and content. There might have been gold down there, or more gems, or monsters out of nightmare. Not even he and his sister knew, and they had years worth of expedition notes to work from. "Some say that we'll never find the end of the Caverns," Timber'd told Twilight once. "that Pluton still lives down there, digging out his realm. I don't know if that's right, but I can't say it's wrong; the deeper I go, the more I feel like I'm a trespasser, walking through places Men were never meant to see."

She shielded her eyes from a blinding light; evidently Pluton's realm wasn't as extensive as Timber said, or she hadn't actually been that far down. She was in the main cavern, now, and saw Stumper...

...tending to her fallen, bloodied form.

And she awoke for real, to the taste of sap dribbling down her throat. Stumper crouched in front of her, holding an empty wooden bowl and crude spoon, green eyes shining beneath her helm of bark.

"Good," she said in that gruff, rough voice, rough as the bark that armored her. "You're awake. That was a near thing, doe; if it hadn't been for Croaken letting me know where you were, this would've been a burial, not a healing."

Wallflower thanked her for the rescue and the healing, and asked her where she was.

Or, at least, she tried to; all that came out was a shrill rasp, and a sharp pain in her throat.

"Careful, doe," Stumper cautioned her, passing her a small bowl of water. "I didn't come too late, but I didn't come soon enough, either. I managed to save your life, not your whole throat."

Knowing that she wouldn't like whatever she found, Wallflower nonetheless couldn't help herself from feeling her throat, now a mass of scar tissue. She knew she was lucky to escape with her life, but losing her voice still made her cry, silent though it was. It wasn't enough for her to be invisible, it seemed, now she needed to go unheard, to disappear entirely.

"Weep not," Stumper soothed her, wiping away some of her tears with a bark-encrusted hand. "You still have your life, and if there's one thing I've learned it's that, given life and enough time, creatures find a way to fix their other problems, or at least help alleviate them."

Wallflower sniffled, and smiled at her rescuer's offer of comfort. It didn't make the pain go away entirely, she doubted anything would be able to, but it helped. Her shift in position had alerted her to another change, though, and she looked down to see that, instead of her familiar sweater, she wore what looked to be woven grass and leaves, twined together to make a surprisingly comfortable shirt.

"I needed to use that coat of your's for bandages," Stumper said, following Wallflower's gaze. "The grass should hopefully be temporary, but even if we can't replace it it should last you for a while. Speaking of," she grunted, standing up. "let's check the rest of you."

While Stumper inspected the injuries on her back, Wallflower looked around her sanctuary, at least hopefully her sanctuary; she was in no shape to do anything if Stumper turned out to be hostile. Slight at the best of times, it looked like she'd weakened further while unconscious, her arms reminding her more of reeds than tree branches now.

Stumper rolled her shirt back down with a clap on her shoulder, saying, "Good news, looks like the infection's gone. Took a few days, and it was touch and go for a while, but-" She was interrupted by Wallflower's frantic hand gestures; she'd been out for days? Using her hands, she tried to ask her rescuer just how long she'd been unconscious.

After a few attempts, Stumper nodded, and said, "It's been two days, almost three, since I managed to find you. Don't worry about your friends; I sent a messenger to Camp Everfree, telling them that I'd found you and was trying to save you. They'll keep your friends calm, at least until you can send them a message of your own."

Once again, Wallflower raised her hands and tried to speak with them; didn't Stumper mean when Wallflower was well enough to go home?

Stumper hesitated, even though she'd clearly seen the spark of understanding in her green eyes. "You," she carefully replied. "might not become well enough to...no," she firmly cut herself off, her vehemence startling Wallflower. "I will not lie to her. She deserves to know. Doe, the reason I didn't say 'when you go home' is because Everfree doesn't want you to go home. She wants you to stay here, like me, and help her."

Wallflower rapidly shook her head and waved her hands; she didn't want to spend a minute longer than she had to in Everfree, not after already losing so much to it.

"I know it sounds bad," Stumper admitted. "but please, listen to me." Grabbing a third bowl from nearby, this one filled with some strange, sticky purple substance, she offered it to Wallflower, who pulled back from its musky odor. "Eat this," Stumper pleaded. "and then make your decision. I promise you, things will look much better after you meet the others. All you have to do," she tapped the bowl against the ground. "is eat this, close your eyes, and dream."

Wallflower crossed her arms and turned her face away from the bowl.

"I know you don't trust me," Stumper sighed. "and you have every right to do so. Why would you trust a strange woman offering you strange-smelling food, after all. But, please, Wallflower Blush-" The use of her name startled Wallflower into staring at the supplicant before her. "-by the greenery that we both love, by the trees we both seek shelter in, by the flowers we both call sweet, I implore you; trust me."

Wallflower saw the truth, then; Stumper was an agent of Everfree's trying to recruit her, but she was also a woman who understood that she'd just been through a lot and that it was natural for her to be wary of strangers bearing strange-scented gifts. She understood Wallflower, she was Wallflower, the Wallflower of the future who'd accepted Everfree's request. She could trust Stumper, she realized, because Stumper trusted her, because Stumper realized that if she betrayed that trust she would be betraying herself, too.

The stuff in the bowl tasted surprisingly sweet, like honeyed milk pouring down her throat and into oblivion.