"Keep coming this way," Twilight hollered to her friends below. She flew slowly, constantly checking to ensure those without wings were going the right way. While she trusted their senses to pick up the smell of smoke, she figured better to be safe than sorry.
She glanced ahead, knowing Rainbow had flown to the site of impact to make sure the fire wouldn't grow into something unmanageable while those forced to walk traversed the mildly inconvenient terrain. In the daytime, this forest seemed spacious and was easy to navigate. Nighttime brought on a boatload of issues ranging from nocturnal wildlife to missing otherwise obvious tripping hazards underhoof.
"Rainbow hasn't come back yet, so she's probably working to keep the fire under control," Twilight reported to the trio of grounded ponies below.
"Then she must think it's safe to continue rather than flee the flames instead," Rarity chimed in. The unicorn glanced at her dirtied hooves and sighed.
Pinkie's eyes narrowed as she turned to glance at Applejack, "Just think... What if..."
The farmpony leaned away, worried about what she was in for, "Uh, what?"
Pinkie held up her hooves.
"...Aliens."
Applejack's guard went back down.
"Oh, c'mon. Those ain't real. And that's considerin' that somethin' survived that crash. Nothin' coulda survived a fall like that."
"But it could be anything! Something with acid blood! Or something that could suck out our brains! Or creatures that could replace us with fakes to take over the world!"
"You mean Changelings?"
Pinkie raised her hooves as threateningly as she could.
"The Pony Snatchers...!"
Fluttershy shuddered while Applejack remained unconvinced.
"How awful...
"So, Changelings?"
"No, silly! Pony snatchers! Completely different."
"Wait, I think I can hear Rainbow. Everypony hang on a sec."
The five mares stopped in their tracks. In the distance, they could just make out Rainbow’s voice.
"...been put out. But you gotta check this out! It's an Alien!"
"Is it the Pony Snatchers," Pinkie cried.
Twilight shook her head and called back, "We're coming! Stay right there! And don't touch anything!"
***
He could hear voices. Muffled ones. Male. Multiple. Speaking English. One was familiar.
"...Corpsman?"
"Armor's... ...layer could’ve... impact. I don't know, Sergeant-Major."
There was a long pause. The armor hissed as the gel layer began to loosen, allowing his arms to fall to his sides. The needles returned in full force as his limbs slowly regained precious blood flow. Something yanked the chip from his helmet.
The familiar voice spoke again.
"...heavy lift gear. We're not leaving him behind."
Then it clicked. Sergeant-Major. Johnson.
With what little strength he had, he reached out—grabbing at what he perceived as the marine's wrist.
A muffled scream rang out, shocking his senses into full wakefulness.
He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, his eyes focusing on a darkened blotch struggling in his grasp. With his free hand, he switched on his headlamp—almost letting go in shock.
He was grasping one of the hind legs of a horse-like creature. Small wings flapped furiously on its back—somehow miraculously keeping it airborne. It bore a bizarrely-colored coat of sky-blue with a tri-colored mane. Large, expressive eyes were locked onto his—most likely looking at its own reflection judging by how unfocused the creature's gaze was. The emotions it expressed appreared to be a mixture of fear and confusion. What made things strange was how human those emotions were. Other than flattened ears, the face was almost cartoonishly distorted into a terrified expression.
To see that face on an animal shook John to his core.
Upon seeing Cortana's emtpy chip in its teeth, he reached forward—and then he froze. Not willingly, either.
His entire arm was encased in a purple glow before he felt his head being turned to face another direction.
And then he heard words he could understand.
"Let her go."
***
As they drew closer to the impact crater, Twilight flew back down to join her friends along with Fluttershy. While they didn't have far to go, she felt a little extra unicorn illumination wouldn't hurt anypony.
"Aliens... There's no way."
"It's okay to be scared, Applejack... I'm sure Pinkie was exaggerating."
"I was? I don't think—!"
"What she means to say is that reality is often more disappointing than our imagination," Twilight offered.
Then they heard it. Rainbow’s muffled scream.
Without warning, they all took off for the impact crater. Leaping over roots and brush with renewed vigor, the five mares burst into the clearing ready to face their friend's assailant.
A huge, bipedal creature had a hold on Rainbow's hind leg. Large green plates with intricate overlays and peculiar shapes created a strange armor-like carapace on top of a blackened skin that peeked out between each piece. A pair of bright lights projected from its head, illuminating its prisoner perfectly.
Twilight reacted immediately, spreading her wings and grasping the creature in a powerful telekinesis spell. She turned the creature's head to face her, wincing as the lights washed over her face. A polarized glass visor blocked the creature's face from view.
"Let her go," she stated firmly.
"Twi, can't ya just force it to let her go," Applejack ventured.
"I want to see if it understands us," Twilight replied, not turning around.
For a few seconds, the two parties stared at each other with suspicion.
Finally, Rainbow managed to wiggle free of the creature's loosening grip. She flitted over to Twilight, scowling at the alien with distrust.
"If I let you go, will you promise not to hurt anypony?"
She waited several uneventful seconds. To her surprise, the creature nodded.
Amid the gasps of her friends, she smiled. "Good. I'm letting you go."
Slowly releasing the spell, she straightened up to her full height while the creature did the same. At least two feet taller, the "alien" struck an imposing figure in comparison to the alicorn.
Suddenly, the creature pointed at Rainbow Dash with one hand, the other opening to expose its palm face-up, as if expecting something.
"Huh? You want something from Rainbow?"
The creature tapped its palm twice before pointing at Rainbow again. Immediately, Twilight understood.
"I thought I said not to touch anything, Rainbow..."
"What?! Whaddya 'ean," Rainbow whined through gritted teeth.
"Spit it out!"
"That thing just tried to ri'y leg off and so'ehow it's still 'y fault!"
"It doesn't belong to you! Just give it back!"
"Fine! Ptooie!"
The strange glowing metal scrap Rainbow was holding in her teeth sailed forward. The creature deftly caught it in its palm before aligning it with the back of its head—slotting it inside.
For a moment, the two parties stared at each other as if expecting the other to do something.
With a sudden burst of speed, the creature took off—vanishing into the brush.
"W-wait! Come back!"
Rainbow crossed her arms. "Nice meetin' ya, jerk..."
***
"W-wait, come back!"
Ignoring the plea, John dashed through the foliage in a desperate attempt to distance himself from the purple horse. The way it effortlessly rendered him harmless worried the SPARTAN-II. He had to make sure it couldn't do it again—being captured was something he never anticipated could happen to someone with his skills.
Then again, running into something that could psychically paralyze him with a single thought wasn’t something he had anticipated either.
He lamented the loss of his equipment he had been forced to leave behind in the locker. While he had no idea if any of the gear even survived the landing, leaving any scrap of UNSC tech in the hands of any dubiously-intentioned parties was never a good thing.
After a few minutes of hustling through the dense undergrowth, he noticed lights dancing between the tree branches ahead. Flicking his headlamp off, he felt his way forward as he slowed his pace to a crawl. Moving as quietly as his MJOLNIR Mk-6 armor allowed, he crept up to the forest edge to peer through the leaves.
Beyond stretched a few gently sloping hills dyed blue by the full moon in the sky. Nestled between them was a large, brightly-lit town composed almost entirely of Tudor-style homes with thatch rooftops and stone chimneys. John hit the 2x zoom on his helmet, the small camera's feed broadcasting directly across his visor. He counted at least a dozen more of the small horse-creatures patrolling the streets.
The longer he watched, the more he noticed how peaceful it all was. A young couple walked side-by-side, eyes locked as they shared sheepish smiles. An even smaller horse—most likely a child—pranced ahead of its parents who both looked on with a warm, appreciative smile.
"Heya!"
John froze, the source of the voice barely a few feet away from him. He checked his motion tracker, frustrated by the lack of warning he had received. Perhaps his stalker had moved below the minimum movement threshold of his armor's hardware, although it would have had to been slower than a crawl—a highly unlikely possibility. He had been sitting there for only a couple of minutes. He'd been scanning his motion tracker for the duration of his prior retreat and was certain he hadn't been followed.
"Are you a Pony Snatcher?"
John burst out of the woods, sprinting full-speed towards the western horizon—keeping himself parallel to the town. While he didn't want to get closer to any sort of civilization, he also could no longer return to the forest. In addition, running too much could also cause more harm than good—he was still suffering the side-effects of being brought out of cryo too quickly. Any movement requiring effort required a larger amount of focus to enact as his half-frozen muscles demanded more time to thaw.
For now, his objective would be immediate evasion.
His brow furrowed inside his helmet—the Spartan had never been the best at being stealthy. While he had learned to camouflage himself in any environment thanks to his training, the difficulty added from wearing MJOLNIR Mk-6 Armor made almost all of that knowledge completely useless. The extra bulk, general noise and single paint color made being stealthy in it far from inconspicuous. Every step was obnoxiously loud and every movement was punctuated by the suit's actuators.
That was without mentioning he had been found so rapidly despite being completely concealed in the forest.
He briefly thought about eliminating his pursuers one-by-one but dismissed the notion. The last thing he wanted to do was to make himself a wanted criminal of the only civilization around for what could be hundreds of miles. Disabling them was a possible solution, but it would most likely lead to the same consequences as simply killing them. For now, running was his only option.
A red blip appeared on his tracker, approaching fast. The whistling of the air being split over something flying above filtered in through his helmet's speakers.
"Where do you think you're going?!"
He recognized the sound of the winged horse that he'd caught earlier.
"While we're here, why don't you answer some questions for me," she began, lazily gesturing at him just out of arm's reach.
Weighing his options, John realized he would have to default to Plan B.
Hopping once to plant both feet on the ground, he leapt straight at her—wrapping his arms around her middle. She gave a squeak of surprise before he looked straight at her, holding her in front of him.
"Sorry about this," he half-lied. With a forward heave of his upper body, he slammed his helmet into the horse's forehead in a vicious headbutt.
She made no sound during and after the cranial collision, her eyes rolling back into her head. Slowing to a stop to kneel in the grass, he gently set her down on her side. He hoped they wouldn't be too upset by his actions—at this point, he was getting a tad desperate to get them off his tail.
As soon as he was sure her condition wouldn't worsen beyond a bitch of a headache, he took off again—following the large smoke trail still lingering in the sky. Without anyone having eyes on his position, he felt was free to pursue his own objectives without tipping his hand to the enemy.
The longer he eyed the Dawn's fiery wake, the more concerned he became. Anyone with half a brain could probably figure out where he'd be headed. All he could do was try to beat them to it.
As he crested another hill, he noted a large forest filling the valley up ahead. He contemplated settling down for refuge—killing himself to get to the ship first didn't sound appealing. A few hours respite would slake his body's cries for rest and let him keep a brisk pace for future encounters. Then again, physical rest might be the only need John could meet.
While he didn't need to worry about water thanks to the suit's fluid recycling system, food was going to be an issue in the long run. The cryo supplements he consumed while unconscious wouldn't last him a day—they helped the body return to normal function after exiting cryo-sleep but weren't exactly calorie-rich. There was no telling how long the journey to the Dawn would take. Intense cardio wasn't exactly a low-calorie workout, either.
After a few minutes of moving through the woods, he slowed his pace to a walk as he began to cool down. Taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate, he continued walking for a few more minutes.
As he counted out the seconds, he noticed how much this world resembled the Earth-type worlds he had been on. The abundance of nature reminded him of the training camp in the mountains surrounding FLEETCOM. Memories of stalking fellow SPARTAN-II candidates in the darkened forests of Reach sprang unbidden to his mind. It was meant to be a competition—with a single loser being left behind to fend for themselves on the mountain. John had stubbornly disobeyed the order by leading the other candidates in an attack on a guarded Pelican dropship.
He remembered how pissed CPO Mendez was after he learned they had both disobeyed the order and beaten his personal marines unconscious. It was one of the scariest and simultaneously most gratifying moments of his training.
Slowing to a stop, John slumped against one of the larger oaks—his weight causing the leaves to rustle from the impact. A tiny part of him grew worried someone would see the tree shake before his fatigue carelessly pushed the thought aside.
Fighting off sleep for a moment longer, he brought up his suit's mission clock. At 22:57 hours, he reasoned that the clock needed no adjusting. The moon had yet to rise meaning the night was still on the early side. He set an alarm for four hours—a generous amount of time by his austere standards. Tucking himself into a large hollow facing the direction of the crash site, John's head lolled back against the tree as his eyes slid closed.
Almost instantly, he fell asleep.