If there was a god, he would speak to me through the whistle of the wind, the ruffle of leaves, the waves of the ocean. If there was a god, then he would live amongst the trees.
Feather Dew has always believed that there was something more. There was a primal force in this universe and planet that bound everything together. He wasn’t sure what it was; sure, there were religions and all, but he always found them to be too specific, too encompassing. He wasn’t certain if any god out there could be found through religion alone.
He wondered if this concept—God—would even give him any answers at all, would give any answers to the other creatures that might be out there in the cosmos, as a matter of fact. It just seemed too easy for the “creator” to come down and simply tell his creations the meaning of life and existence itself.
And he felt the slight breeze hit his neck, flicking his mane. It reminded him of touch, a faint whisper. He wondered if something out there talked to him that way. Maybe God liked talking to his creations through his other creations. Perchance this entity preferred to touch all living things through other living things.
Feather Dew shared that sentiment: the wind was a living, moving thing. He wasn’t sure how he got to that conclusion, but a strange part of his mind kept on telling him that the wind is the vessel from which God imparts his omnipotence to everything. The wind is the glue that sticks everything together. The wind acted as if it were conscious, a living being that watched over the Divinity’s creations between the heavens and the seas.
And between said heavens and seas were trees, conquering the kingdom of land. Some trees were small, some were large, and some were so massive one would wonder if any creator out there forged it specifically to be his throne, a gateway between this world and the next, a loft close to heaven.
The trees in the distance reminded Feather Dew of that sentiment, and he truly pondered on whether these trees were made to be that tall so mortals such as himself could feel a little closer to the heavens, the sky. They were uncountable, stretching from one end of the horizon to the other whence they appeared in front of him and his companions.
Feather Dew was glad that he wasn’t alone when he heard it was time for him and his group to pack their things, beginning their traverse through the rainforest to reach their destination. Even in the daytime, there was something about the rainforest that called to ponies and everycreature alike, as if it were the light of an anglerfish in the abyss attracting curious but naive prey, miles and miles down in the ocean.
The Amarezon was, in a lot of ways, exactly that: a deep, seemingly never-ending ocean. It was dark, even during the day, containing flora the size of small buildings and exotic beasts that were so out of this world most wouldn’t even recognise the vast majority of them, let alone their grisly visages—the final thing one would’ve seen before inevitable demise.
Looking at the edge of the rainforest was like looking at the edge of the world and the beginning of a new one. In fact, it seemed that there was only once solace that could help distract one’s fears looking through the veil.
“I like the wind and how it goes through my mane.”
Feather Dew heard a mare speak from the group. He agreed with her words very much. He felt the wind she spoke of as well, felt how it softly caressed his grey coat. The wind itself was soft spoken, and yet it seemed to keep changing directions every time it came. The wind was something that seemed to be everywhere and yet could only be noticed when one was paying close attention.
I wonder how the forest makes wind, the pegasus mused to himself as the wind played with his mane once more. Pegasi do make wind, albeit it’s more of a byproduct of all the other things that they do such as herding clouds or releasing rainbows. He assumed it came from the trees and birds—the trees making the oxygen and the birds spreading it around from the flaps of their wings, a primeval cycle of nature.
The wind, as if reacting to them, wooshed and moved to another direction, as if to say, I’m moving on from the lot of you, or, I have to be somewhere else.
And as the group moved on, Feather Dew looked up to see the sky through the forest canopy as best as he could. The forest was starting to get thicker, a far cry whence they were only moments ago. Try as he might, hard as he may squint, he could see not even a tuft of cloud. We really are in the middle of nowhere, aren't we?
He stopped for a second when he felt a tingle on his hooves. It was as if nature was speaking to him again, through the slight gust that brushed his face and the small dance of a stray strand violet mane on his muzzle. It surprised him somehow.
If that truly is Nature talking to me, then what’s it trying to say?
The grey pegasus pressed on and found himself with his companions once again. As he settled in, Feather Dew kept his words to himself as he overheard an interesting conversation amongst two mares.
“Have I told you the effects of the brew? I heard that they often see jaguars in their experiences and stuff. I haven’t seen them, though.”
The other mare snorted, although it wasn’t truly mean spirited. “I’m not so sure about that. Maybe it’s something they focus on out of proportion compared to the other things that they see during their hallucinations.”
“Well I don’t know, Star. I just thought of it and it just seemed really strange to me. Why would ponies hallucinate jaguars out of anything? Isn’t that weird?”
The mare named Star stopped to get forest debris off her hooves, much to her dismay based on her grimace. “I don’t know, either. It must be a strange thing, you know. Out of all the ponies that know about this, it should be you.”
The other mare heartfeltly chuckled, jabbing a hoof to her chest in a playful manner. “Hah, right. I have done this a few times. You know the story: I was feeling really down, I heard of this stuff from my friends, and I decided to try this out for myself. It’s a bit inconvenient that I have to go to the jungle for it, but it’s whatever.”
Now Star looked curious, as was Feather Dew. “Now that you say that, curiosity is getting to me. I wonder, what would you tell me about this brew? Even if it’s just one thing?”
And the silence that came after her inquiries was a bit disconcerting to him. Now the other mare was looking out into the distance, apparently thinking. Star must not have wanted to be rude, for they kept walking despite the lack of a reply coming from her companion. That seems odd; I wonder what she’s thinking.
He knew this brew was no joking manner. The concoction in question, called Ohteotl, contained magical elements that can induce interesting effects and hallucinations from what he had read prior. One of the most interesting magical hallucinogens out there, and it’s made from a plant, he half-joked, half-described. That’s what it was. An entheogen from a plant.
How do they even discover stuff like that, let alone brew the thing?
“Everycreature, we are almost there!” yelled a friendly voice with a strong accent. Feather Dew must have gotten used to walking despite having the ability to fly, and it seemed that everyone else was panting a bit when they heard the guide’s words.
It was understandable, though, for the jungle was beginning to not only get hot but humid. For the other creatures, he didn’t know how uncomfortable it must be for them as all he had to do was periodically readjust his wings to get specks of forest bits and sweat off him.
It’s getting dark and we’re going deeper and deeper, the pegasus thought, and it’s really something to see all types of creatures here. They were mostly ponies in the group, but there was also a minotaur, what seemed to be a changeling couple, a hippogriff.
I knew Ohteotl is all the rage these days, but I wonder if it’s starting to get too popular, the pegasus concluded as he scanned the rest of them. We’re all here to experience the same thing, though. That’s the point. What’s it really like to take?
“It’s like seeing yourself out of your body.”
Feather Dew and Star looked at her with the perks of their ears.
“It’s like seeing yourself out of your body, Scarlet?”
The other mare—Scarlet was her name—gave her a cool breath and a chuckle. “It really is something, Star. I... it’s something that I can’t necessarily explain well. It’s like being in a dream and how you can’t remember it really well after you wake, but in that moment it’s the realest thing in your life. It’s like peeking at the next life.”
“Hm. It is an odd thing, yes, you’ve told me. I... I just hope I get to see something new if what you’re saying can apply to me.”
Scarlet's expression turned wise. “I wouldn’t say you would see something new, I would say you’d look at things differently.”
“We have arrived, everycreature!”
Disrupting, the group looked to where the guide pointed.
It was a sight to behold the more it was looked at. The spot was simple yet fascinatingly delightful. Nestled amongst the trees were little huts peppered in nooks and crannies in places with no forest flora; at the center of it all was a large, central hut. All of the structures in the retreat were either made of wood or dried leaves: wood for the support beams and walls, dried leaves for the roofs. Torches and orange lamps peppered the area, giving it a cozy glow—the warmth of flames.
But what the real kicker was the large clearing adjacent to the area of the huts. There was a waterfall flowing water into a brilliant, aquamarine blue pool. The ochre cliffside the waterfall poured down on was carved beautifully, no doubt from the flow of water over countless years. There were even hammocks and vines hovering above the water from tree branches to let anypony lounge under the shade of the sun and the cool of the water all day. It’s rather quiet, this place, Feather pointed out. It really does look peaceful.
As the guests oohed and ahhed, some letting the tension of travel out of them through pleased sighs, the guide let himself smirk a little. “Ah yes, how tranquil, is it not? Come now, let us settle our things and relax in the shades.”
The guests were shown to their individual huts and around the retreat. While the other guests had no problems being pampered by the caretakers, Feather Dew felt anything but when his assigned caretaker attempted to spoil him rotten.
It was already awkward enough when the caretaker mare tasked with his well-being asked what massage he wanted out of twenty-seven different options, but it became even more so, to his dismay, when she asked if she wanted to fix his belongings even though they were barely anything to begin with.
“Ah, it’s okay. I can sort all my stuff just fine.”
“If you insist, good sir. If you want a massage, come to me.”
The mare with the admittedly cute accent, though, left him be, and he was glad that he could be left alone for a moment, keeping note of that one massage that actually sounded interesting to him. I remember having bad times with hotel staff back in Califoalnia. He visibly cringed at the thoughts resurfacing. Don’t mind all that, now.
After all, that’s the reason I’m here, right? To let this stuff go and gain a new perspective. To find something in me I’m not even sure I understand.
He sat down slowly inside of his accommodations, taking in the deep atmosphere of the Amarezon properly for the first time. Feather Dew felt a tad uncomfortable sitting his rump on what were essentially dried leaves, but he didn’t move an inch save for scratching his violet mane with golden stripes running its length when it strayed once again.
How dumb of me for losing my hair ties the moment I try to fix my mane on the train, he calmly yet begrudgingly admitted to himself. Maybe I can ask the mares for ties or something.
Feather Dew internally found it a tad funny.
And yet he let his mane flow down his cheeks, in front of his purple eyes. This was a really long trip, but it’s barely getting started. I already feel tired, he admitted to himself. I just hope it’s worth being here.
Feather Dew then tried to say something, anything, but found that he could only focus on his breathing now.
Then the gust came back. Was it trying to interface with him, and if it was, what was it trying to say? It was like the wind was trying to mimic the movement of his chest going up and down, slowly coming to sync with it, like two synchronous metronomes beating as one on a table or the seconds hands of two clocks eventually ticking together.
Like two ponies coming together and having their bodies close, starting with different heartbeats but eventually, given time, beating as one in complete harmony.
There was a stillness in his heart he couldn’t assimilate, a song of unbeknownst melodies causing a stark but comforting silence that made the world move even the tiniest bit slower. Was this what the wind was speaking of? Did it know something he didn’t?
He puckered his lips and shook his head at the thought, letting himself return to reality for the moment. Feather Dew decided to regain cognizance by looking at his belongings.
There wasn’t much: a saddlebag filled with some of his personal info, a notebook, a pen, an instant camera, film, and a few photographs he brought along when he felt the need to look at them. He learned that in Ohteotl retreats such as this, material possessions were of little importance.
That’s what they all say, don’t they: why even try to bring things from this life when you can’t to the next?
The aura of the rainforest turned from dangerously beautiful to just dangerous. The sun had set a few minutes ago, now plunging the massive rainforest into the twilight. The stallions traversing through knew they only had a few precious minutes before the sun and its light would completely fade away and night was to settle into what was, for all of them, the most dangerous adventure of their lives.
The Conquistador amongst them scanned the forest for something, anything strange or lethal that may be lurking in the shadows. “We only have moments to spare,” he barked to his men, stoic, “then we’ll have to go back to camp.”
And he found it rather pleasing when nopony rebuked. A few of them had hesitations on doing this conquest. It was clear in their faces that this unforgiving environment was starting to get to them, an unforgiving part of nature so large yet stowed away—undiscovered for so long.
Coming back to the camp safely was the one thing everypony agreed with.
The Conquistador took a moment to gaze up as best as he could through the forest canopy. He had never seen trees this large, leaves so massive, and the bugs! The bugs in this place were absolutely enormous! He thought that his local pub was loud during the week-ends; the bugs in this place buzzed and chirped louder than even the hollering of drunk stallions. He swore he would try to get a few of them back to show the king when he arrived home.
He hoped it would be the least interesting thing he would show the monarch, though. Who knows what other kinds of secrets this forest had in store? It was going through an entirely new world where the bugs don’t care about you and the animals don’t care about you and the trees blocked most of the radiant lights of any star in the night sky.
“We’re going back,” the Conquistador calmly told his men. “The sky is turning dark. I don’t want us all to be here for long.”
And as they turned to return to their safe space, one of his men spoke, “I wonder if we’re ever going to find it, this place the natives speak of. I want to see all the treasures they say they have. To see if it’s real.”
The Conquistador commented, “Patience is key, Arctic Ace, but until somepony finds it, it’s only legend.”
He and his men spared not a moment to return to camp. And as the air filled with relief, the Conquistador wondered if this place they were seeking for truly was real. Until then, like he said, it was only the makings of a legend. He hoped it was more.
The sun was obviously lower now compared to when they had arrived only hours ago, even under the obscurity of the forest canopy. The guests had many wellness activities they could attend to this fine evening: swimming, lounging on tree branches and hammocks, massages, yoga. It was not only an Ohteotl retreat, but a wellness retreat, too.
I didn’t know yoga could be so hard!
Feather Dew wiped his back with a towel after the admittedly good cleaning he had by a small stream nearby. It turned out that there was a pathway around the waterfall and cliffside that led to a quaint stream. The water that cascaded down the pebbles and rocks were incredibly clean and clear to the point where he even took a small sip to quench his thirst.
I thought yoga was supposed to be relaxing. He returned his thoughts to the yoga session. Maybe it’s just my state of mind. After all, yoga was supposedly all about breathing and good posture. Or maybe it’s just not for me.
Then he remembered what a mare who was by his side told him. Don’t be tense. Relax, but know that you are in control of your own body. He kind of appreciated her wise words, and he admittedly felt good the moment they wrapped up, feeling his core most especially.
They’re right; I really should focus on my core more than wings, Feather dew quipped. His employment required him to have a sturdy body and the endurance of migrating birds, though perhaps he should lay off focusing on his wings and work on his torso.
But the pegasus didn’t have much time to think about that. Not now. When the sun set, it would finally be time to do what they had all come for, the elephant in the room.
He put his towel down by the fresh, wooden bed, and peered over his belongings one last time by the small table. I’m not allowed to bring anything with me inside: no cameras, no writing materials, nothing.
Feather Dew made his way to the door frame, although he paused for a second.
The wind. He felt it come back to him, washing him over and sounding like the subtle crashing of waves. His soul felt the slightest bit stranger at that moment, as if a string wrapped around his heart was tugging from an unknown object in a removed plane of existence. Was it a premonition, a prophecy? He looked back at his room one last moment before finally taking his leave.