Winged shadows danced on the ground, agile things that disobeyed the rules their true selves had to.
Birds. Little Feather saw some overhead. He liked to compare himself to them sometimes. They played, they chirped, they flitted about happily without a seeming care for the world. They were always together; a bird seen without at least another was an anomaly. It would be like having left without right, peanut butter without jam.
Ironic it was, for birds could see things no other creature could see. Oftentimes did the world grant great powers to those who’d use their full potential. The tragedy was those who had great powers but cared not to bother with them. Why have wings if one can’t use them; why stay stuck in a cage if one can fly?
And yet some things were like that, mulling around, existing but not living. That brought Feather sorrow. Things truly existed, just in ways they’re not supposed to. So he wondered whether or not things didn’t do what they were meant for because of valor or because of fear.
Somehow the former was worse. An honorable deed for an unfulfilling and detrimental existence? To rot in a cage with a door already left open? Could that even be called honorable, then? That was perhaps the greatest tragedy of all, not the fact that one didn’t fly because they couldn’t. But because they didn’t want to.
“Feather, what’re you doing standing around? They’re gonna leave us behind!”
He snapped out of his daze from his friend Rainbow Dash’s call; she waved as she flapped her tiny wings to keep herself afloat. Without another word and a deep exhale, he ran up to join her and the rest of the group.
“I swear, you should really be more aware of your surroundings,” she remarked, regarding him with crossed hooves. Feather found it ironic she would say that, but in some way she was indeed right. He only ever brushed it off with a cool breath.
“I just like looking around!” Feather replied, “who knows what sorts of things we can see out here.”
That was most certainly true. He and the camping group were treading through forests by the south side of the Unicorn mountain range, north west of Ponyville. Feather knew the sojourn to reach their camp site would take time, but it was a trip he insisted on taking nonetheless.
“Honestly, why couldn’t we just camp by Ponyville? I know you like seeing places and all, and I do like to go on a little adventure myself, but I wonder why’d you want to come all the way here?”
Feather cocked his head at her. “Well, it’s different, you know? Camping at the same spot can be great but so boring sometimes.”
Rainbow merely shrugged. “I guess that makes sense.”
They said not another word to each other. The group continued forward, an older stallion in front guiding them along an undefined forest path. That gave little Feather an odd rumbling inside of his stomach, the fact that the way they travelled turned more crooked, more obscure. If one were to pay little attention to it, they would feel immediately confused and be slowly lost.
Feather compared the sentiment to being pulled down the depths of a lonely ocean: he remembered from the top of his head about how one’s sense of direction—up and down, left and right—would be impeded. It was most certainly a horrifying fate, the feeling of one’s lungs instinctively sucking in the air they so desperately beseeched, only to be met with gushing, salty sea water.
It scared him. But there was a peace in drowning. The preliminary anxieties can tire one, giving them the feeling of being completely helpless, the first minute or two. Then, just at the moment of blacking out, in their last throngs of consciousness, a wave of comfort would impart itself upon them.
The anxiety would go away. The pain would go away. The fear would go away. There would only be peace and acceptance.
Little Feather felt the wind. It was comforting somehow, like that wave of peace that would come forth upon one’s last moments of drowning.
And he wondered if it was some sort of spirit. Was it truly a ghost? It was like it never even happened. Was his young brain messing with him? It came from behind, so he turned to see if anything was there.
Nothing.
There was nothing when Feather looked behind him.
And that terrified him somehow, because there should have been something out there. A beast of the forest? The footsteps of unknown creatures, the rustle of twigs from dancing ghosts? Something dangerous? Something to be concerned about?
Nothing. It was only nothing.
He would have been comforted more with the meeting of stalking predators rather than silence. Predators did something. They existed. They were tangible. Real.
But an unknown thing that doubted even its own existence, behind him, tickling his tail but just barely? It was foolish, surely, for nothingness couldn’t hurt one. It couldn’t even be seen. It couldn’t do anything. It wasn’t real.
Feather glanced behind once more. He was being irrational. But the nothingness was following him. Or something else entirely. Feather was sure of it, like a monster obscured from his wits and vision, waiting.
As he observed the gaps between forest verdure, Feather realized for the hundredth time this evening that the night was inching its way closer to the horizon; if they were not careful, they would find themselves in serious trouble. Or the belly of a beast.
“Seen anything yet, guys?” Twilight was ahead of the trio, guiding their way through rugged forest surfaces with the aid of her light spell.
River shook her head. “We would have told you if we saw something, for the last time.” Feather could sense the growing impatience in her, yet he understood how she felt.
Although the sun began to depart, the forest still bred that humidness. The aura surrounding him was at best uncomfortable and at worst subtly violent: damp air, the growing dimness from the forest’s canopies, the scant but nevertheless existent rustle of leaves here and there, reminding them that despite being alone, they never truly were.
There was also the fact that they haven’t found anything yet: not a clue of the lost city of Tlekokalli or of Jade anywhere they looked. Feather had scouted as hard as he could—and he knew the others did, too—but as their search carried on, as time passed by without even a mere sighting, their hopes were being put to the test. He sensed misgiving looming in the air, so dense Feather swore it would eventually turn solid.
When Twilight paused to make her light illuminate brighter, Feather knew the sun was gone for good to be shortly replaced by the moon. He didn’t want to accept it, but he knew nature wouldn’t care of any sentiment he had.
“We haven’t found anything,” Feather said simply, more to himself, “it looks like we’re going to have to go back some other time.”
“Awww,” River both pouted and physically deflated, “I had a feeling we would strike lucky tonight. Would be too easy somehow, in retrospect.”
“I told you guys not to feel down if we didn’t find it today,” Twilight quickly reminded. “Even I didn’t expect to; this jungle is just so dense that it seems like anything could be lost in here.”
Feather gravely nodded. He understood what she meant, but he couldn’t shake that feeling of disappointment off of him. Feather didn’t really expect to find her now, either, but a certain somber blanketed his soul, making him crestfallen.
“Yeah, let’s go back.”
So Feather and his friends turned and headed back to the direction of La Orilla—with the assistance of Twilight who held both the map and a compass they borrowed—to save themselves from any further risks the Amarezon may have had in store for them.
The route in which they traversed differed from the one in the beginning leg of the search, so they continued to comb with seeking eyes the landscape, hushed and obscured. It was the same monotony—if that was a kind word—Feather had come to familiarize himself with, and yet the epiphany wedged slowly into his mind.
Without the help of a map or compass, they would be utterly lost here. Those two objects were the only things between them and the complete mercy of the rainforest. It sent a familiar shiver down his spine.
There were no landmarks, no place where he could point at and say, “this is where I once was because I saw that earlier.” There was none of that because there was no way anyone could remember the endless details the Amarezon proffered.
Every tree looked the same yet didn’t; every vine felt familiar yet slightly changed; every leaf and every branch whence they came were startlingly recognizable yet totally new and foreign at the same time. It’s like a force was rearranging the world around them every time he gazed upon something to cause even more confusion and distrust.
When Feather looked back at the rainforest flora, it was as if it stared in return. Something gazed back, something that knew where he was and what he was planning to do. Was it some god’s intervention, a sick joke by whatever was cruel enough to play with their prey in an environment like this?
It was dark now, truly veiled to the point where Feather almost faltered his balance. Was he standing up straight or was it just his body messing with him? Only the light of Twilight’s spell could help them now.
Feather relied on his hearing to supplement his shrouded vision. He stuck a hoof out just in case. Feather heard his hooves crushing twigs and fallen foliage on the forest floor. He could hear the faint crickets and bugs. He could hear his quiet breath, a gentle thing in a world of such brevity. He heard... screaming?
All three stopped on their tracks when it paused and repeated, a singular, low screech that echoed from the distance.
“Did you hear that?” River glanced over her shoulder in disquietude.
“I did, too. Twilight, what is that?”
Feather found it unsettling when she didn’t respond, merely scanning their surroundings in a seemingly hasty effort to find the source of the noise. “I don’t... I don’t understand how this is happening.”
“What is it?” Feather didn’t get a response because there were now two screams that sounded, seemingly closer to them somehow. They were clearer. They started low and ended high in pitch, anguished and in pain.
“It sounds like Death Whistles, but... who’s...”
Four whistles blew, each equidistant and surrounding them. Feather draped a wing over River Moon as she took a step back. Something wrong was about to happen.
Then a large cacophony of whistles blew all around them. The noise shattered his nerves, a thousand shrieks that came from every direction, the clamor of an entire gathering being sacrificed condensed into a little sphere that encompassed the three. Trapping them.
Twilight encased them inside a protective shield, a magic bubble of purple that would render them safe from the harm and noise of the whistles.
Except that it didn’t.
Despite the barrier, the whistles came back even stronger, reverberating powerfully, as if angry at them for their mistake of being here. Feather and the two mares smashed their hooves against their ears to protect them from the raucous of the instruments of suffering.
“Try to teleport us out of here!” Feather yelled in the reprise of the Death Whistles’ paused moment.
Twilight shut her eyes, a sparkle igniting from her horn. But nothing happened. She did it again. Nothing happened. The alicorn was in shock as her breathing became unstable.
“My teleportation spell won’t work!”
“WHAT?!” River grabbed and shook her from her shoulders. “Try again!”
Poor Twilight didn't even get to respond as the whistles blared once more. Feather tightened his jaw shut as he pressed his hooves into his ears once again. The volume was increasing with every interval. When the horrified screams stopped, the thought came to him quickly as he elaborated it even more so.
“We’ve got to book it when it stops! We don’t have any other choice!”
“But-! How do we know if it’s safe-”
“We can’t afford that! We just have to go as quick as we can!”
Feather already pressed his hooves on his ears once again as he anticipated the next blow. Sure enough, it came, and it came hard, harder than it ever had. He swore he could feel the mighty blow of a thousand warriors dying in battle, screaming their final chants of whatever valor they had left in defeat.
Once the anguished screams halted, Feather wedged himself between Twilight and River, wrapped his wings around them, and pulled them along as he made a sprint for it. Twilight’s barrier quickly died out as he led the three away to escape the harrowing caterwauls.
Adrenaline gushed Feather’s hooves, the rush of blood coursing his veins and arteries as he held onto his two friends for his dear life. He couldn’t even feel their heartbeats; all he felt was the rough movement of their gallops as they ran for their safety, their sanity. Feather pushed himself to run even the slightest bit faster as he heard once again the echoes of those terrifying whistles from behind him.
He didn’t even know when they stopped, but they did indeed finally pause by a large tree, collecting themselves and their breaths, Feather setting a hoof on its trunk.
The adrenaline began to fade, and so what was left was discomfort and aches. His chest felt sore. His wings burned from holding on to his friends like they would never meet again had he let go. He felt a slight pain in his joints from the sudden sprint he initiated.
What was that thing? What kind of... thing could do that?
A shiver slithered Feather's spine as he heard those Death Whistles once again, albeit they seemed like they were moving, sauntering away, echoing out like a fleeting dream. The group was left alone in the quiet of nighttime.
As he looked on to his friends, Feather allowed himself a glad exhale, an amused breath amongst a maelstrom of confusion and uncertainty. “Hey... are you guys okay?”
River and Twilight stared at him with wide eyes; they were obviously still shaken but River Moon nodded shortly. “Yeah. I... I’m okay.”
“I am too,” Twilight said, letting out huffs and puffs. Her eyes suddenly turned wide. “Wait, I dropped my map and compass! I didn’t even realize I lost them; how are we supposed to get back?”
Feather peered skyward. “We can take turns going up the forest canopy,” he quickly suggested, pointing, “It’ll be hard, but it’s not like we have a choice.” He allowed himself a pause. “Come on, we should really get out of here. I don’t want us to be in danger any longer.”
“Hold on, before we go.” River came forward, placing a hoof on his shoulder and giving him a small smile. Gentleness twinkled from her eyes. “I... you know, thanks for saving us back there, even if we don’t know what happened. You stuck to your quick thinking and it got us out of there.”
Feather couldn’t hide the small blush that graced his face. “It’s nothing; hey, it was just what needed to be done in the moment. If I was in danger like that, you guys would do the same thing, right?”
Behind them was a growl.
Feather couldn’t even turn completely before a force hit his side, overtaking his balance and slamming him to the forest floor. He instinctively tried to break free, tried to scramble away to safety, but powerful limbs pinned him down. There was no escape.
He gasped as pain seared from his extremities, whatever beast constraining him slashing his coat. Then he felt a great pressure on his lower neck, and at that moment, Feather knew that this was what it felt like to drown. This was what it felt like to have life being snuffed out of someone. This was what it felt like to die.
The pressure on his neck lasted a split second before it suddenly ceased, though it had as if lasted an eternity. The force that’d pinned him down too let go.
Feather could faintly hear the beast that broke him step to the side, roar, and flee into whatever hell it hailed from. Leaving them. Leaving him.
Twilight and River tried to talk to the injured pegasus, but he didn’t understand them. He couldn’t understand what they were trying to say. He was way too hurt to do anything.
There was a ringing in his ears. He could scarcely make out purple and blue forms, frantic before him, seemingly beseeching for hope. For assurance. For something, anything.
But he couldn’t do it anymore. That’s when Feather felt it. There was a wave of peace that washed over him as he faded into the abyss.