//------------------------------//
// Chapter 4: The Biologist 
// Story: The Forest of the Golden Abalone 
// by Unwhole Hole 
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There was, in fact, a camp—which was a relief. It was located past the thickest parts of the forest, built on a small flat space held high on the side of a large and foreboding hill. Its surface had some trees, but a type with enormous, thick trunks and roots that clung to rock—surrounded at their base by ominous, gnarled shrubs that reached up like claws. These frightened Fluttershy at first, until darkness fell entirely—and their flowers opened, providing cold but adequate bioluminescent illumination to their path.  

The camp consisted of little more than a lean-to and a spot where there had quite clearly been a fire for some time, as well as a few magically cut sections of logs to serve as seats. It all looked distinctly primitive.  

“You live here?”

The stallion nodded. “Sure. There’s other camps too, though. This place is real big. Couldn’t study it all if I just stayed in one spot, don’tchaknow.”

He levitated a stick and poked it into the center of the black ash where the fire was supposed to be. From a small bottle, he attempted to pour a liquid onto the top of it—a reddish liquid that was really more of an extremely viscous, foul-smelling liquid. He winced as he poured it, holding himself back from the odor—or perhaps something else.  

Then, when he closed the jar, the tip of his horn flicked with violet sparks—and the goo ignited violently, filling the darkness with flickering orange light.  

Fluttershy jumped back from the small explosion, but appreciated the light and the warmth—and the fact that the snailwalkers who had been so disturbingly close on their approach suddenly retreated in the face of the light.  

“Are my eyebrows still on?”

“Um...yes?”

He smiled. “Good. Starting to figure this out, I guess.” He took a step toward her, and Fluttershy cowered—but not in a way that made her feel afraid.  

“Wait, what are you doing?”

He pointed at her wing. “I need to fix that.”

“You know how to do that?”

He nodded, smiling. “I took first-aid in college. In case I ever had to pop one of my own wings back in.”

“You don’t have wings.”

“Sure. Didn’t occur to me at the time, though.”

Fluttershy remained unsure. “Will it...will it hurt?”

“A little. But it’s not that bad.”

Fluttershy was breathing hard at this point. She could barely get a vaccination without an entire crew of burly orderlies holding her down. And that was just a tiny pinprick. She had seen Rainbow Dash relocate her own wings on more than one occasion, and it never seemed to hurt that badly. A wince, then laughter. But Rainbow Dash probably had a much greater pain tolerance.  

“Wait, wait—wait,” she said, breathing even harder.

“On three, okay?”

“Wait! Is that when you say three, or three then—”

There was a massive snap as his magic shoved her wing back into the joint. Fluttershy passed out from the pain.  




When she woke up, the sun had fully gone down. Stars were visible in the sky, as well as the barest sliver of a crescent moon. Time had passed again, and she felt groggy. Her wing still ached, and as she went to feel for it, for a horrifying moment she found it gone—only to quickly realize that it was simply bandaged, tied against her body along with the other for symmetry. The fact that he had done both indicated that he probably really did understand Pegasus medicine, at least to some extent.

She looked up. The fire had grown in size, the slime being replaced by various sticks and pieces of small fallen wood. The stallion was beyond it, staring at the ground—or rather at a hoof-sized snail that was passing the area, leaving a trail of slime in a perfect circle around the perimeter of the camp.  

“Good job, George,” he said, picking up the snail in his hoof and patting it on the head. “Now that’s what I call a circle. Thanks a bunch.” He gave the snail a small piece of moss, and then set it in a small box outside his lean-to. Several other smaller, colorful snails that had been milling around followed it—although very slowly.  

He looked across the fire. His eyes were half-closed, but his smile was kind. “You woke up.”

Fluttershy groaned. The warmth of the fire was pleasant against the misty cold of the night, but she still felt terrible. Sore and sick, and weak from a day filled with fright.  

“Do you want something to eat?”

Fluttershy felt her stomach growl. She recalled that in her youth the sound had terrified her, causing her to think there was a monster inside her and that if she did not feed it her stomach would come out her navel and eat her. In this case, though, she knew she was just hungry.

A bowl levitated toward her, as well as a ladle—and, although she expected some kind of vegetable soup, she was instead ladled with a sticky, foul-smelling dollop of translucent mucous.  

Her stomach immediately silenced. 	

“What is that?”

“Mucous,” said the stallion, sitting on the opposite side of the fire with his own bowl. “The slime from the ramshorn snail is edible but bland. This is from the rare flavor-snail. See, that’s the fun, eh? It’s a mystery what flavor you get. Hilarious, right?”

He stuck a spoon into the goo and, with a horrid sucking sound, pulled it out. He licked it, frowning with concentration. “Huh. Vanilla. I’ve gotten that one twice already. But it’s pretty lucky. I guess today is a good day. It’s correlated to the temperature, don’tchaknow. Cold nights get you savory, warm, sweet. Usually.”  

Fluttershy looked at the bowl and saw it quiver. She found she had lost her appetite. Still, she felt an urge to be polite. Shaking, she extended her tongue and, despite her body’s every protest, she licked the goo.  

She shuddered, but was surprised by the flavor. It was not exactly vanilla, but oddly familiar.

“It tastes like Celestia.”

“I know, right?”

She paused, listening to him eating his own meal and to the crackling of the fire. No sounds came from the darkness, although a horde of snails of various sizes had surrounded them, stopping at the circle of slime that surrounded them.  

“Um...I know this is a little rude, but if you don’t mind me asking...it’s kind of embarrassing, but...um…” She paused, taking a breath and trying to regain her composure. “Thank you so much for saving me, even if I wasn’t really in any danger. But...what’s your name?”

He looked over the fire and smiled. “I’m Snails.”	

Fluttershy blinked. “That’s very strange,” she said. “That’s the second time I’ve met a pony named Snails. The other one was a little boy in Ponyville.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That’s me alright. I’m that Snails.”

Fluttershy fell silent—and then released a high squeak, falling off her wooden stool and attempting to hide herself behind it.  

“WHAT?!”

“Snails. I’m a unicorn? We used to play Buckball together? You could always do that neat trick with your tail, and I never could figure out how to do it myself?”

“Yes, I heard you, but—but—but—”

“Ha. You said ‘butt’.”  

“But when did you get so—so—”  She took another breath and tried to focus. “Big?”

He seemed confused. “Well I suppose I’ve always been taller than most. Thought that was relative for a while, see, because Snips is short? Nope. Turns out I grew.” He shrugged. “I mean, I’m not so good at counting, but how long has it been?” He scratched his chin. “Let’s see...I think Twilight started her school, what, fourteen years ago?”  

Fluttershy’s eyes widened. She had not even realized that so much time had passed—or, because she had actively suppressed the idea of it. Because she saw the changes in her friends. That their ages had nearly doubled, hers included—and they had grown older. But she had not. And she never would.  

For Snails, though, the change had been dramatic, seemingly impossible—but he had only been a child before. No more than twelve. Now he was in his early twenties, the same age Fluttershy had been when she had first met him. Which only made her feel more sad and dirty than she actually was.  

“I’m sorry,” she said. For several reasons.  

He still seemed confused. “For what?”

Fluttershy cleared her throat. “For...um...not recognizing you.”

He shrugged. “Eh. It happens. I forgot who Snips was at least twice a month. Sometimes more if he got a haircut. It happens.” He paused. “How’s he doing? If you know. I don’t get mail out here. Haven’t found a mail-snail yet. They might not even exist.”  

Fluttershy blinked. “Oh,” she said, trying to recall. Although she was now splitting much of her time in Canterlot, she still maintained her sanctuary in Ponyville—and of course, Rarity was a veritable geyser of gossip that only seemed to increase in quantity with her age. Fluttershy had always been too polite to make her stop.  

“He’s fine,” she said. “But he had to quit his job. From the stress. He was in the hospital for a while. Same one he worked at, too. But he’s much better now.”

Snails nodded. “Yeah,” he said, distantly. “I always told the guy, he works too hard. Gets obsessed with it, don’tchaknow. He was like that in medical school. Poor guy hardly slept, never had the confidence to know how smart he was. And urology isn’t an easy field.”  

“You kept up with him in medical school?”

Snails looked over the fire, once again confused. “No. We were roomates. Went to the same school in Fillydelphia. He went for the MD, I got a PhD in zoology.”  

“Wait—YOU?!”

He smiled. “Because I’m slow, right?”

Fluttershy deepened to the hue of a beet. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I—”

Snails laughed. “That’s the thing. Mildred’s slow too. But even at her age, she almost outran you, didn’t she?”

“I...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. You didn’t mean anything by it.”

Fluttershy, still red, picked up her meal and started eating it—partially to avoid the shame, but also because she knew for a fact that Celestia did not taste that bad.  

“And you—if you don’t mind me asking—specialized in...snails?”

A large smile crossed his face. “Of course! Snails are my special talent!” He paused, looking down at his food—and blushing almost imperceptibly. “And in a way, you’re to thank for that.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “Well...dang, I’m being bashful, even it it’s true, but I always kind of looked up to you, you know? Because no matter how big and scary a creature was, you didn’t even seem to notice. And for me?” He looked down at a snail that sat beside him. “No matter how wet and slimy they are, they sure are beautiful, aren’t they?”

Fluttershy herself blushed, because she understood—even if the way he had seen her when he had been a child was not entirely true. Some creatures were still very, very scary.  

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” he asked, perking up. “To see the snails? Is their a friendship problem?” He looked around. “Is it me? I’m the only pony here. Am I supposed to go back now? I’m not finished with my research, but if Snips needs me I’ll be back with bells on my toes...if I had toes, I don’t, but you get the point, eh?”  

“No, no, you’re fine.” As much of a shock as it had been to see him, Fluttershy understood. He was a biologist who, as his name, cutie mark, and demeanor implied, specialized wholly in the study of snails. He had come to this place with the intent of researching them, either ignorant or ignoring the severe danger of a place where a largely unnamed Equestria agency had dumped its snail-based monsters. Or  maybe he knew—and that was exactly why he had come.  

“I was helping someone survey the area,” she said—and then suddenly stood up. “Oh my Celestia, the plane! It crashed, and Sampson was still on it, we need to—”

She started to run, only to be pulled back by  her tail. It hurt, but she felt her wings struggle against her bandages as she let out a moan.  

“Now wait a minute, you can’t just go running down the mountain at night,” warned Snails, calmly. “It’s not safe. You could fall. And the ones that come out at night, they get mean sometimes.” He pointed at the circle. “Have to stay in the circle, you know? George is a magic snail. They can’t cross the barrier until the slime wears off. And that won’t happen until the sun comes up.”  

“But the plane—”

“I saw it,” he said. “Tracked it to you, but it didn’t look good where it went. Don’t even know what a plane is, but I saw it blow up real big. I know where it went. We can go there in the morning.”

Fluttershy sat down, staring into the darkness, knowing that things were staring back at her.  

“We were attacked,” she said.  

Snails frowned. “By what? The flying snails aren't aggressive, but if you hit a flock of them they might have done some damaged. Been conked more than once on the old noggin, when it gets cold they drop out of the sky and all…”

Fluttershy shook her head. “No. It was a pony. A unicorn.” She shivered, looking over her shoulder. At the unicorn sitting behind her.  

He seemed as surprised as she did, though. “Huh,” he said. “Well, that’s a bit odd, seeing as there’s no ponies here. Not anymore. Just me. I think that’s because I can talk to them.”

“You can talk to snails?”

“My dissertation was on gastropod linguistics, yeah. They don’t actually talk much, but some are real smart. Especially the brain-snails.”

“Because they have big brains?”

He winced. “Sure. We’ll go with that one. Anyway, they’d notice ponies. And I haven’t heard chatter.  Not even a little. There’s no ponies out here, let alone a unicorn.” He paused. “Except me.” 

Fluttershy believed him. She doubted the little boy she had known in Ponyville could cast the war-magic that their attacker had. But Snails was not the little boy she had known. He was a unicorn with a doctorate—admittedly one in biology, but no one in Equestria that was a field utterly inseparable from magic. Especially when it came to monsters.  

“Why were you flying it anyway?” he asked.  

“Some ponies needed my help,” admitted Fluttershy. “They said we needed to check the area because snails kept getting out and hurting ponies.”

This seemed to surprise Snails even more greatly. “Well, that’s not right.”

“I know. I don’t why they would be so mean.”

“No. I mean because none of the snails here have been doing that.”

Fluttershy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I keep an eye on the borders. It’s not safe for them out there. And half or so are magic-tagged, at least the big ones or the dangerous ones. Nobody strays too far from the edge.”

“But they said there were attacks.”

Snails shrugged. “Maybe they were wrong? Or maybe I’m wrong. I dunno. It’s happened before. I’m an expert, not Celestia. I get things wrong sometimes.”  

“Do you know the name ‘Eternity’?”

Snails shrugged. “Not really. That’s not a common name for a pony, but there’s been a few in history I guess. Female wizards.”

“What kind of wizards?”

“Dark. Always dark. Very dark.”

“What about Bon Bon?”

“Oh, sure. I know Bon Bon. I think we’re cousins? Real shame about what happened with her and Lyra.”

“Yeah.” Fluttershy stood up and moved closer to the fire. “I don’t even know what’s going on.”

“You’re in a forest with lots of really impressive snails,” said Snails, as if it were obvious.  

Fluttershy smiled. She supposed he was right.  

Snails stood up. “It’s late. We should go to bed.”

“We?”

He gestured toward the lean-to. “I didn’t have time to build a second one, but it’s fine. We can share. It’s big enough. You’re pretty small.”

Fluttershy felt herself blush. “No, I don’t think—that wouldn’t be appropriate—”

“Why would that not be appropriate?”

Fluttershy blushed even harder, but Snails just shrugged. “Well," he said, "I guess I can stay outside, then. It’ll rain before dawn, but it’s fine. I’ve been damp before, and you don’t seem like you’re used to being wet.”

“Eep.”

“Exactly. You take the lean-to.”

“No, no I couldn’t do that…”

Snails smiled. Fluttershy did not know why her hearts were beating so fast—but she doubted that, either way, she would be getting any sleep on that particular night.