Rain.
Driving rain. The kind that forces you to squint your eyes to a narrow slit and even then you can barely see for the drops hanging on your eyelashes. Each drop was tiny individually but collectively they fell like hammers. Hearing was lost just as much as vision, too - every sound was blurred behind an overarching drone of raindrops hitting and mud splashing. And that mud stole most of the feel as well. Everything was dulled below a caked layer of ooze. Everything besides my aching muscles, at least.
It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t stopped to rest. A full day would have been bad enough, but I’d foolishly thought I could make it home before dark. Now not only was I wrong but I was all the more fool for trying. Pushing to get those last few miles had left me here like this: half lost in the woods with the landmarks obliterated by the storm. I couldn’t even guess if the road was still under my hooves for all the mud. Maybe I was still on it, or maybe I’d lost track three turns ago. No way to tell.
Stopping for the moment occurred to me - maybe I could find shelter. A cave would be too risky. Even if it was normally unoccupied, ursas and manticores didn’t like the rain any more than ponies did. With the strength of the wind and the pounding of the rain, no tree would provide enough either. Maybe if there were two close together with a thick enough canopy it could work… But there was nothing like that ahead. At least, not in my vision. My very, very limited vision.
Besides, that would be giving up.
I wasn’t going to give up. I needed to get home.
In the grand scheme of things, I guess you could call me a fool yet again. I needed to get home because I wanted to be home. Because I wanted to see my family. There wasn't some unmanageable crisis happening or the end of the world. My ma was still as lively as ever and my youngest wasn't sick or anything. The only thing sick was me - homesick.
It really shouldn't have been a big deal, if I was being sensible about this. I could be home tomorrow or the day after and they'd still be there to meet me at the door, full of smiles and laughter and a cool drink to chase away the summer heat. They'd be just as happy to see me then as any other time - a day, a week, a month and it would be the same cheer and love. But, you see, that's the problem. It could be a day, a week, a month… it could be tomorrow. But in my heart I'm a greedy stallion, and I want that today. Tonight.
So I push on.
A voice in the back of my head urges me to wise up. I can't go back now, but going ahead isn't going to help either. I could be running the wrong direction entirely and I wouldn't know it until morning. And speaking of, it's going to be dark pretty soon. The sun was halfway to setting when the storm clouds rolled in, and even if there's no way to see the sun through the muddy, rainy murk? My own internal clock is telling me that what little light is slipping through the clouds is the last of it. Pretty soon I'll be more than just mostly blind, and then what?
But I've never been good at listening to that voice. It demands things like common sense and playing it safe - my wife would be the first to admit that isn't how I live. Though if I'm going to be honest, she probably would laugh about it first and pretend she's shocked I've got a voice that suggests it at all. I've got to follow my heart - always have, always will. And right now it's aching worse than my legs, so I want to get home.
I need to get home.
Of course, it's also those aching legs that betray me. My back-left hoof hits a spot that's more stone than mud. The impact jars straight up my leg as the hoof skids off the rock, slipping in the slick mud and yanking my leg out from under me. The other three flail to try and keep me upright, but there's too little traction and too much gravity. I'm already halfway to the ground by the time my brain understands that I'm moving more down than forward. The impact is hard - painfully one of the first things that hits is my jaw, rapping my teeth against each other and filling my already blurred vision with stars.
It's possible I blacked out for a minute or two. Hard to say, though if I did it can't have been for very long. First thing that I'm able to wrap my thoughts around is how much my head hurts. I think that's a good sign, since if I'm hurting I'm probably not in shock. I almost wish I was, though, when I get a look at my legs.
My back-left hoof - the one that hit the rock - is busted. There's a nasty crack running up it that's already filling with mud. I can't get a good look at the frog in this weather, but there's a fair chance I've hurt it as well. That's just a big old nothing compared to the rest, though. It's my fore-left that's really got me worried. I don't think it's broken, at least, but the knee's definitely not supposed to bend that way. Dislocated for sure - and putting even a little weight on it makes pretty clear that it's in bad shape.
I give myself a minute to rest in the mud while I check the rest of myself. My barrel hurts something fierce, but I'm not having trouble breathing so probably no broken ribs. Feeling around the inside of my mouth with my tongue shows I chipped one of my teeth when I landed, but that's going to be bothersome more than problematic. And while it's hard to tell in the rain, I don't think I see any blood. Guess I got lucky.
Rising up, I try to keep my weight off the one leg. Now I absolutely have to get home. Staying out in the woods overnight without a lame leg is damn near suicide - one sniff from a timberwolf and that's the end of it. With my leg like this I can't run and I can't buck. Hobbling home is all I can do, because staying in the Everfree is even less of an option than it was before. Even that little voice of common sense agrees, for once.
The rest of me - the impulsive heart I usually follows - doesn't argue with that voice. Hurt or not, I still want to get home. Maybe I'll be slower with this leg, but as long as I'm careful I should get there. As long as it's by Sunday. Can't miss Applejack's birthday - she'll never forgive me if I do.