//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Going to Ruins is Never a Good Idea // Story: The Forest of the Golden Abalone // by Unwhole Hole //------------------------------// Several glimmering snails were engaged in circling a more decrepit, largely empty camp. They moved around it, creating perfect concentric circles. More snails of the same type watched on from the distance, engaged in their own tasks of collecting exotic-looking fungi from the trunks of dark, rough-barked trees. This part of the forest was far deeper, and shaded so severely that it seemed to be almost night. Snails, looking haggard but alert, supervised the snails. “George and his friends are magic,” he explained. “They make a protective seal. Out here, they won’t be able to trace us with spells, there’s too much magic in the air on the path we took. Here. Cover yourself with this. But don’t eat any, trust me on that one.” He threw Fluttershy a bottle of liquid which, without even opening it, she knew to be a type of mucous. “W...what were they?” she asked. “No idea. I never really figured it out, but I didn’t know there were more than one. Whatever they are, they bleed black. And they heal. Real fast.” He sighed. “Nothing stops them for long. If they get hurt, they just get up. Smooshed, squozen, knocked down a hill, buried, drowned, frozen, pickled, burned, not even magic can do anything permanent. At least with Tuo.” “I didn’t know there were ponies like that.” Snails shook his head. “I don’t even think he’s a pony, not exactly. You haven’t seen him naked. I have. A lot.” He smiled. “He’s super buff. Dark gray body. Huge black mane.” “Oh my.” Fluttershy shivered, though, because she knew a pony who had once looked almost exactly like that description. She knew because she and her friends had murdered him. “Why are they here?” Snails shook his head. “Don’t know. Never had one visitor, not even Snips. He’s terrified of snails, actually, the poor guy, and he’s not outdoorsy.” He paused. “But if I had to guess they look a lot like mercenaries, eh?” “Mercenaries?” Snails nodded. “Helping that old guy out, looks like.” Fluttershy nodded. She was a pacifist and had no idea how mercenaries worked—but it would explain why they had armor, mechs, and Crystal Empire technology. Except that it made no sense how they would have gotten it. Those items were reserved for Cadence herself, and the various secretive wizards that surrounded her. “She was speaking Crystallic,” she said. She frowned. “But I don’t think she was a crystal pony. Crystal ponies look like earth-ponies, they aren’t usually unicorns.” “Weird." Snails shrugged. "I’m at a loss.” Fluttershy paused, then looked north. A few large, horned snails were wandering between the trees. “What’s out there?” “Just more trees. More swamps.” Fluttershy shook her head. “You said there were ruins.” Snails bristled, and sat down. “I said that? Huh. I don’t remember it.” “Don’t lie to me, Snails.” She glared at him. Not with full force, but enough to make him recoil. “Sorry,” he said, looking down at the dirt and several adorable snails that looked back up at him. He shook his head. “I’ve only been there once. And I’m not going back. I can’t.” Fluttershy repeated herself. “What’s out there?” Snails paused, gathering what few thoughts he had. “I don’t know why there’s so many snails here. But I don’t think they always were. Snails are polyphylogenic. They didn't evolve from one source. Too many to be a coincidence, right?” He groaned. “This place used to have ponies. Or...maybe they weren’t ponies, but I think they were. There’s a city in the center of this place. Or what’s left of it.” He shook his head. “They’re gone now. Been gone for a while.” “Do you think that’s why he’s here?” Snails’s eyes widened. “Snails…” He let out a sigh. “Okay. So. I’m not smart.” “Don’t say that—” “Let me finish. I’m not that smart. Just persistent. Slow and very, very steady. But there’s one thing I know. When it comes to old ruins, stay away. First rule they teach you in graduate school, eh? We’re not Daring Do. She’s fictional. Ruins are always bad. Old magic? Always bad. Old technology?” He shivered. "Even worse." “Daring Do?” An idea suddenly burst into Fluttershy’s mind. She knew where she had seen that stallion before. One that looked almost like him was on the cover of some of Rainbow Dash’s books. The series she loved that Fluttershy could never get into—because, of course, they were far too stressful and gave her nightmares. “I never read more than the first one,” admitted Snails. “I wasn’t so good at reading and they kept me up at night. To scary. Snails, snails aren’t scary. They’re cut and pretty and wet. And even the mean ones, if you understand them, they’re not that bad, you know?” He shook his head, harder this time. “But that’s a dark place, Ms. Shy. I don’t even known if it’s a city. Not the kind you live in. More like...I don’t know. Like a big machine that doesn’t move. Something buried.” He paused, then frowned. “Maybe that’s why they put the snails here?” “What would anypony want with it?” Snails did not answer—but the glimmer on his face indicated that he knew. “What is it?” He still hesitated, then finally spoke. “He looked awfully sick, didn’t he?” Fluttershy nodded. “He was old. Earth ponies live a long time, but they’re not like unicorns. They still get old eventually.” Snails let out a long sigh. “There’s a legend. And I...may have destroyed a few books to keep it secret. Please don’t tell Twilight.” “What kind of books?” “Bad books. Because ponies don’t need to know. Not if they’ll come here and hurt the snails. Not if they’ll get hurt in the city. It’s better that way.” “What is in the city, Snails?” He looked up at her. “There’s a legend,” he said, simply. “They say whoever built the city worshiped the Golden Abalone. If it ever existed, I think it’s extinct now. Like an allegory, right? A story.” He paused. “But if it is real…” He sighed. “They say that its nacre can cure any disease or curse, no matter how bad.” “Nacre?” He nodded. “It’s mother-of-pearl. The lining on the inside of its shell. But, to get the nacre…” He shook his head. “If it’s real, it’s the rarest, most beautiful snail in existence. But if somepony were to get their hooves on it, they would have to...have to…” Tears welled in his eyes. “That’s what Tuo's here for.” “But you said he regenerates. Can he even get sick?” “He won’t use it himself. He’ll put it on a shelf in a vault and look at it. Or just know he has it.” He wiped his eyes. "Or...if he's a mercenary, he'll give it to that old guy. So he won't be sick anymore." Fluttershy took a breath. “Unless we stop them.” She had said it quietly. Quietly in the hopes he had not heard—but he did, looking up, his eyes wide. “Yeah,” he said. He did not even question how. Perhaps in the past he had stopped Tuo before. Maybe he could figure out how to do it again. He had better—because Fluttershy had no idea how to even start. “Can we get a message out?” Snails shook his head. “It would take days to get to the edge of the zone. The snells won’t take us that far. Too dry.” He paused. “But you said there were others.” “Right! The Agency!” Fluttershy did not know why she was excited. She had no idea if they were the good guys or not, but she was motivated almost solely by hope. The hope that maybe they would care enough to stop illegal poaching on their own property. Or maybe the intruders were the reason they were getting incorrect readings. Maybe that was the problem all along. Her spirit fell. She was not sure even they could be counted on—or that they would be able to even realize that their crew had been lost by the time the bad ponies made it to the Abalone. It seemed that she and Snails may very well have been on their own.