The bat pony hovered in the air as he looked over the edge of the cliff. “Yep. That bridge is beyond repair.”
Tempest gave him a flat look. Genius. She looked at Owlowiscious, who somehow seemed to snarkily agree without even saying a word.
“Sorry,” he said. “We don’t get many land visitors. That bridge was old when I was a colt. We’ll get started on repairs right away. Let’s see, we’ll need to weave a rope, maybe two…”
“Wait. You don’t have any spare rope?” Tempest asked incredulously.
“None that long,” he said. “We don’t get many land visitors.”
“I’m sensing a theme here,” Tempest grumbled. “How long will that take?” She suddenly realized that that had come out a bit more like old Tempest than she’d meant it to. “Uh, please,” she added. That was something ponies said, right?
“Hoo,” said Owlowiscious, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.
She shot him a quick glare and looked back.
“Shouldn’t take too long. Once we find somepony who knows how to weave, I mean.”
Tempest’s eyes widened at those implications, and then narrowed. “Yeah, no. I’m walking.” She turned to Owlowiscious. “You coming, Feathers?”
“Hoo.”
“Alright.”
With slow, methodical steps, Tempest slowly descended the least-steepest side down the mountain. The little rocks slid under her hooves, as she walked backwards to maintain her balance.
Soon, the slope gentled further, and the rocks turned to dirt. She’d made it back to the forest floor, and she’d kept the cart steady the whole way down.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious said from his position hovering to the side.
“Thanks,” Tempest said, trying to not show how the compliment had pleased her. She looked around. There wasn’t much snow here, either, but that was the extent of the good news. The trees of the forest blocked a majority of the sunlight (which is where any snow that did fall ended up), giving the forest a dismal feel. The lack of terrestrial ponies meant no trails, only animal paths and natural erosion.
Still, Tempest was not about to turn back now. With a defiant smirk at the forest, she oriented herself and started walking. Owlowiscious flew along beside her. His flight was very silent. Good for sneak attacks. She preferred a show of force, but stealth did occasionally have some advantages.
But now wasn’t one of those times.
“Do you know any marching songs?” she asked.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious said, almost like he was chuckling.
“Yeah, me neither,” Tempest admitted. “The Storm King wasn’t really big on songs. Or happiness. Or anything but power, really.”
“Hoo,” he said darkly.
“Yeah, no real loss there,” she said, remembering the stone shards at the base of the mountain. She’d refused to believe until she’d examined them for herself.
“Hoo?”
“I know now,” she said, her eyes flicking up towards her broken horn. “In my defense, I didn’t know much about magic. I still don’t, honestly. Any spell I try goes boom.”
“Hoo?”
Tempest nearly missed a step. “I… don’t like to think about that,” she said softly.
“Hoo,” he said, just as softly.
“Not your fault,” Tempest said, feeling more amicable than she would have thought towards the owl and his line of questioning. “I mean, you spend your time with probably the most powerful magic-caster in Equestria. I guess that’s a natural question.”
“Hoo.”
“Both?” Tempest said. She scoffed. “You’d better not be talking about that azure annoyance Trixie.”
“Hoo.”
“Starlight? Huh. Why isn’t she a princess, then?”
“Hoo.”
Tempest jerked to a stop. “Time travel doesn’t count as new magic?” she repeated incredulously. “There’s definitely a story there.”
“Hoo,” he said.
“Cheater,” she said, and she kept walking. ‘Not my story to tell’, what a load. “Still, time travel. Sounds like that could get messy. Better start with something safer, like cutie marks,” she said with a little smirk.
There was no answering ‘hoo’.
She turned to look at him, and he deliberately swiveled his head to look away.
“We will come back to that later,” Tempest said pointedly.
But any thought of cutie mark magic vanished with the light. She walked further through the forest, which seemed to grow darker and darker with every step, though it was likely close to late morning at latest. Her eyes kept flicking from side to side.
In the Everfree Forest, she was unsettled. Here, though, something was wrong. It was unnaturally quiet. Her tail flicked subconsciously, and her ears swiveled.
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious murmured.
“I don’t like it, either,” she admitted softly. It wasn’t that she was being watched, though that might have been true. It was dark. But she could handle that. Something here just felt wrong. She wished she had a better word for it.
She heard something behind her. She stopped and turned around, daring whatever it was to move again.
There were no further sounds. She waited a bit longer, just to be sure, then kept walking.
“Hoo?” he asked.
“What? Why would I be afraid of a story?”
“Hoo,” he said with a shrug.
“I know most legends have some basis in fact, but I think ponies would know about a monster who eats cutie marks.”
“Hoo.”
“‘Drinks’, fine,” Tempest corrected herself irritably. “My point still stands.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest huffed. “I know all about pony history,” she said.
“Hoo,” he pointed out.
“I was old enough to make it on my own,” Tempest said.
“Hoo.”
Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Point,” she conceded, and she lapsed into silence as she kept walking.
Crack.
She spun around. Her eyes scanned the forest, looking for any motion, but she saw nothing. “You heard that, right?”
“Hoo.”
Tempest looked sideways at him. She’d heard it clearly. “How good is owls’ hearing?”
“Hoo.”
“I… don’t know how to quantify that,” Tempest admitted. She gave the forest one more narrow look and slowly started walking again.
Owlowiscious returned from a brief flight, his wings making no sound as he returned and landed on the top of the cart. “Hoo.”
“You’re still thinking about that?” Tempest said, grateful for the distraction even if she didn’t want to show it. “Even if a chupamarca did exist—and I don’t think they do—owls can’t even get cutie marks. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Hoo.”
She gave him a sideways look. “No? I don’t know how they’d reproduce. I don’t even know how the storm creatures I led reproduce.” She smiled wryly. “I kinda figured they hatched.”
“Hoo.”
“I guess,” Tempest floated. “But how long does it take owls to learn to fly?”
“Hoo.”
“And ponies can walk within a day, so, you tell me.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest chuckled amicably, but her smile soon faded. She glanced around. Something still felt off.
A rustle in the underbrush made her look over. She glared at the area it had come from, but then heard nothing further.
“Hoo?”
“You didn’t hear that?” Tempest said, still looking for any sign of movement.
“Hoo.”
Tempest glowered at nothing in particular. She had definitely heard something, and it was a little frustrating being the only sane one here.
“Hoo?”
“No,” she said shortly, and walked a little faster.
A few minutes later, he took off, but shortly returned. “Hoo,” he said, facing a different direction.
She looked up at the sky. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure I’m going the right way.”
“Hoo.”
Tempest exhaled. A cliff did not sound good. He didn’t have any reason to lie to her (after all, if he really wanted her lost, nothing was stopping him from just flying away and leaving her), but for some reason, she wasn’t sure she wanted to take everything he said at face value. This forest felt like it was crowding around her, almost suffocating somehow. The walk over the bridge hadn’t cut out this much of her journey, had it? “I don’t really feel like studying geology,” she said, trying to make light of the situation, and she turned the direction he was facing.
“Hoo.”
“Of course that’s a thing,” Tempest said. “What other classes does the School of Friendship offer, proper hugging technique?”
“Hoo,” Owlowiscious confirmed.
Tempest burst out laughing, but before she could crack another joke, a flash of motion behind her made her stop. She lit her horn, magic crackling in the air. “I know you’re there,” she said, keeping her voice airy. “Come on out. I just want to talk.”
“Hoo?” Owlowiscious asked.
Tempest didn’t answer, still focused on whatever it was.
But there was no sound, no movement. Nothing but the wind rustling the trees.
“Hoo?” Owlowiscious pressed gently.
“I know I saw something,” she insisted.
“Hoo,” he said disarmingly.
Not that it helped Tempest’s mood. “I didn’t miss that much sleep,” she said.
“Hoo.”
“Well, that’s the smartest thing you’ve said all afternoon,” Tempest said, knowing she sounded snippy but unable to suppress it. She turned around to open the hatch with her snacks in it. She picked up the bag and realized that it was empty. She’d eaten everything.
Huh, she mused irritably, turning the bag upside-down just in case one of the almonds had gotten stuck at the bottom but finding it still empty. Maybe this is a horror story.