//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: The Rivers of Avalon // by Snowy89 //------------------------------// “You can barely even see it from this angle, can you?” Twilight rested on her haunches, staring north, back towards Nestle. Although she knew where it was – the rivers betrayed as much – she couldn’t make out more than a few buildings and terraces from here. “Well, it is underground. Mostly.” Rainbow said, likewise resting. They’d picked up the canoe in the morning with little fuss, and were originally intending to simply set it in the river and be on their way; Channel, though, had recommended a short portage to a much nicer starting point that should shave off some time. Unfortunately, they hadn’t anticipated just how ruddy awkward portaging was going to be – with their backs so cluttered with jackets and panniers, they were forced to carry the thing overhead whilst on their hinds. It was doable, certainly, but quite fatiguing. The path had taken them over a small rise, giving them their last look back; it also gave them a good look forwards, too. From here, the three of them could make out the steep embankments and cliff faces ahead, beginning almost immediately where the Sul merged with its tributaries to flow eastwards as the Whither. Luckily – at least in so far as Twilight was concerned – the pillar-cliffs so common to the Basin’s topography continued on for just a little ways yet. “They’re just so pretty!” Twilight gushed, as they prepared to move on. Rainbow shrugged, hoisting her own end of the canoe up with a grunt. “Cliffs are cliffs.” “You can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the change of scenery from back home,” Twilight insisted. “We have so little karst like this in Equus.” “They’re rocks.” “You don’t like them even a little?” “Meh.” “And you’re not just being difficult?” “Mmmmeh!” “You know,” Squirrel interrupted the budding bickering. “There’s more of that kind of thing south of here, or even far to the east – Riven and Tipple and all that.” “Really! But, shoot – no time to see it.” “No kidding,” Rainbow grumbled, her head occluded by the boat. “We’re heading straight home once we get back. Now! Are you gonna pick up your end, or...?” Twilight jolted, hurrying towards the middle of the canoe to stand between the other two. “Oh! Right – sorry.” She reared up, settling the gunwales as best she could on her shoulders. “We’re good!” “Off we go then,” Squirrel said, her voice echoing dully back from the front; they’d quickly found it easiest to orient themselves by height, tallest at the front, to better balance the burden. Almost immediately they were far too busy concentrating on where to place their next step to carry on talking. Occasionally one of them would trip, or would lose their balance, falling forwards safely on all fours before rearing back up to continue their journey. Twilight puffed tiredly; while she could manage the weight of her gear and canoe – if only just – her posture was just killing her. It was none too soon when Squirrel, after hefting the canoe above her head once again to check on their progress, finally gave them the good news. “We’re here!” Squirrel huffed out. “Let’s get this set down – don’t drop it!” she added, as the grass and soil beneath Twilight’s hooves shifted abruptly to mud and pebbles. Lowering the boat down gently, Twilight got her first good look at where they were. Or, at least, she got a good look at the far bank, seeing as the one they were on consisted wholly of sight-blocking trees, left and right. Across the river – swollen now to some dozen metres wide or more, its current noticeably flowing leftwards, to the east – were yet more densely-set trees, climbing back up the cliff slope behind. Gone were the limnic pillars – facing them now was nothing than unforgiving granite, stretching unbroken down the riverway and out of sight. “It’ll be a canyon, for a bit,” Squirrel said, having noticed her gaze. “Steep-sided, I think. Haven’t been down it myself, but I’ve never heard anything bad about its waters.” “‘No rapids’ is good,” Twilight said perfunctorily, as they’d already covered this briefly with Channel. He’d hedged a little about the details, but seemed confident they could take the canoe down – apparently it was uncommon for anybody to try, though seeing as most would use the barges this made sense. “Might take us a couple days,” Squirrel added, shooting Rainbow a look. “And you’re sure you can fly all day? Because if some of these sections are too gnarled or steep for us get ashore, you won’t be able to get aboard if you’re tired.” “I’ll be fine, mom,” Rainbow snipped, flexing her wings wide. “And I’m definitely flying for the first bit.” “Just signal if you want us to pull ashore,” Twilight said as she loaded her gear into the canoe, sitting now as it was at the water’s edge. “Hoof me your satchels, please.” Squirrel joined her, stowing their gear more or less evenly across the boat. With little ado, she started pushing the boat into the water. “Let’s get in – quick,” she said, hopping in herself. The canoe rocked disconcertedly beneath her as Twilight clambered onboard, quickly making to plant her rump on the thwart nearest the bow. They coasted a few metres out, leaving Rainbow to stare owlishly at them from the shore. “Geez!” she called out to them. “Not even a little warning? What if I’d changed my mind!” “Too late!” Squirrel shot back at her, as the canoe turned to face downstream. “Now get flying! If you end up with a cramp or something we’re still close enough to notice!” “Flying doesn’t work that way!” Rainbow shot back as, with a few quick paces, leapt into the air to glide low over the water, catching up with them in barely a moment. “I mean, the wings are important and all,” she said, zooming past. “But they’re not really the thing, ya know?” “Not really,” Squirrel muttered as Rainbow angled up, gaining height. “Wings are more for steering and expression,” Twilight said, beaming brightly as she lounged at the bow, staring down through the water at the rocks and fish below. “But the flight itself is ultimately wrought from one’s own innate magic.” “You and your fancy words,” Squirrel rolled her eyes, smiling. “Merely precise,” Twilight said, still immensely pleased that they were finally at the part of the journey that didn’t involve grotesque amounts of walking. They let the canoe bob languidly downstream, not even bothering to pick up the oars and get to work and instead simply enjoying themselves. Looking up, they could make out Rainbow slowly circling high above. Alas, it couldn’t last forever. “Well, let’s get going then,” Squirrel said with a heavy sigh. She grabbed the oars, hoofing one over to Twilight, and began slowly rowing. “I never did ask,” she said after a minute. “How accustomed are you to this?” “Hmm?” Twilight looked up back over her withers, distracted as she was with the scenery. “This? As in, rowing?” “Yeah.” Although the motion wasn’t quite like anything she did on a regular basis, it hardly seemed difficult. “I’m new, but I doubt we really need to pace ourselves much.” “Good, good. “... “So! Do you normally camp much?” “Not really.” “Swim?” Twilight gave her a funny look. “Are you... is this you trying to make small talk?” “I, uhh,” Squirrel hemmed with a guilty look. “Maybe? It’s just that I chatted plenty with Rainbow yesterday – did wonders to confirm just how annoying she is.” Twilight giggled, but couldn’t really defend her best friend in this. “So I figured I might as well try it with you,” Squirrel continued. “Weeell I like books!” Twilight started, figuring she might as well play along. “Or rather, I like knowledge! And books contain that, after all.” “I’ve gotten that impression, yes.” “But I suppose you were asking about swimming, weren’t you?” Twilight said, dutifully trying not to get too offtrack. “I enjoy it well enough – used to vacation with the family to a lake not too far from home.” Squirrel’s brows shot up. “You have foals!?” “What? No!” Twilight snorted, nearly dropping her oar. “‘Family’ as in ‘parents and brother.’ I’m way too young to think about kids.” “Oh, uhh, right! That does make more sense,” Squirrel said, looking anywhere but at Twilight. “I should think so!” By this point they’d traveled a good ways downriver; Twilight was glad she’d kept her jacket on – however warm it may’ve been in the sun, it was jolly chilly down here; given how steep the cliffs were, this place probably saw no more than an hour or two of sunlight a day. Dense trees lined the banks, evidently able to grow comfortably enough within the shade. Rainbow had long since disappeared from sight, but this was of little worry – it wasn’t as though she could fail to find them. Squirrel’s attempt at small talk petered out too; Twilight was little surprised – forced chatter didn’t seem her style. The river wound steadily onwards, joining with other tributaries flowing out of little side gullies and cracks. The morning passed, and the shadows lessened. Twilight and Squirrel were just rooting through their gear for some lunch when Rainbow reappeared, angling low to swoop once overhead; banking sharply, she came back around to a rough hover. “Hey!” she shouted breathlessly down to them. “Pull over! We gotta talk!” “Alright!” Twilight shouted back to her, hastily dropping her pannier to look around for anything resembling an approachable beach. “Over there,” Squirrel said, catching her attention and pointing to a small, shaded alcove they could tuck themselves into. After several metres of rowing the water had become shallow enough for Twilight to simply stick her oar on the pebbly bottom and drag the canoe closer. They soon hit land with a soft bump moments before Rainbow glided to a landing beside them, cobbles crunching as she slid. “Much better,” Rainbow said, still sounding a little winded. “Needed to talk to you two before you got much further.” “Tired?” Squirrel asked, eying the beads of drying sweat adorning the pegasus. “You’ve been flying all morning.” “Well you’d be tired too if you just scouted everything for I-don’t-know how many miles!” Rainbow said snappishly. “Look, I can’t even see the river up ahead – the trees are all overhanging it like mad. No way around it, either.” “Then you’re with us from now on,” Twilight nodded. “Too much of a risk otherwise. Did that section look okay otherwise?” “Dunno – it all just looks like trees from above,” Rainbow shrugged. “Flew low over a bunch of it though; not nearly as many birds fluttering around as I’d’ve expected, but maybe that’s just normal here?” She shrugged again, aiming a look at Squirrel. “Well don’t at me! I walked around all this the last time I was here, remember?” “Mares and gentlecolts: our guide,” Rainbow snarked, hopping onto the canoe before Squirrel could respond, the boat rocking violently beneath them. “I – hold on,” Squirrel muttered, fighting a moment for balance. “I’ll still get you two through this – just because I don’t know about your mysterious bird-lacking doesn’t mean my bushcraft isn’t leagues beyond your own.” “If you two are going to fight, then at least do it while we’re moving,” Twilight interrupted, straining against her grounded oar as she sought to push them back out. “We’re not fighting!” Rainbow insisted as she scrounged around for her own. “Besides – I totally won.” “Gods, you’re annoying. Remember how I said she was annoying, Twilight? She’s really annoying.” “Oh shush, Squirrel,” Twilight said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Now let’s get rowing.” It was startling just how sharp the transition had been. They’d been floating on, enjoying the barest hint of the noon-day sun shining down on them, when the trees either side suddenly started changing from the mostly-straight sprawl of evergreens and cottonwoods to ever-thickening clusters of short, willow-like trees, their upper boughs spreading wide and weaving together like a light-blotting mesh above. “Aaand it’s night now,” Rainbow said, only partially joking. “As long as the water keeps flowing, we’ll be fine,” Twilight assured her, staring up into the dense canopy. “The barges do this trip regularly enough, after all.” “That they do,” Squirrel affirmed, still quietly rowing from the stern. The river here was as much as twenty metres across, and probably a few metres deep to boot – they weren’t likely to flounder anytime soon. “So,” Twilight said in the dimming light. “Any guess how long it’ll take for us to get out, Dash?” “Yeah – dozen miles or so,” Rainbow said, her wings fluttering faintly as she scowled into the woods. “Was a little hard to tell, but I’m sure I saw glints about that far along.” “Well, it won’t take us long at all, then.” Although it felt like hours had passed, Rainbow was pretty certain it’d only been one – tops. The scarce light that filtered through had settled into an evening-like gloam, but the air was still fresh and clear, and the water flowed steady, if too slow for her tastes. She was starting to feel antsy too, having done little more than continuously sitting and rowing – the sheer lack of movement was irking her. “How are we not out yet!?” she burst out into the silence. Twilight jumped in her seat. “Geez! Don’t scare me like that, Dash,” she scolded her, scrambling to retrieve her oar from the hull. “It’s just so dumb!” Rainbow continued griping, her wings stretching and folding reflexively. “I should’ve just stayed flying!” Squirrel, for once, stayed quiet. “It’s better that you’re here with us,” Twilight said in a calming voice. “We should stick together in this.” “I know, I know,” Rainbow grumbled – it wasn’t like she needed to be told that, though it was obvious why Twilight was saying it anyways. “Just... yeah, I know.” “We should be out soon enough – with the way the river’s narrowed, we’ve definitely picked up speed.” She was right about that – the Wither was not a dozen metres wide here, little whitecaps foaming at shallow spots hither and thither. “I guess,” Rainbow grumbled, but before she could continue griping her eye was caught by a mossy smudge up ahead. Squinting, she could see it – a great boulder sitting squat in the river, dividing it in twain. “Yo,” she said, prodding Twilight in the back. “What? Oh,” Twilight said, as her gaze followed Rainbow’s pointing hoof. “Squirrel?” “Yeah, I see it. It’s a rock.” “Yes, well done Squirrel, but what I meant was – ” “I know what you meant,” Squirrel huffed. “I asked around about this kind of thing in Nestle – the Wither forks and wiggles a bunch, but it all ends up going where we’re going. Barges always take the wider path, I think – it’s deep enough and wide enough for them.” “Wait! So there’s faster rivers?” Rainbow asked, trying not to get her hopes up. “Yep. I was going to suggest we take them, actually.” Twilight turned back from peering out at the approaching fork. “Do you know if the branches stray that far apart? My map doesn’t have the detail for that, but if they’re close enough we could always portage back to the main route if we change our minds.” “Should do,” Squirrel said, adjusting her oar. “We’ll take it, then? The more time we save the better, and I’d hate to still be in the boat when night falls.” Twilight nodded. “Sounds good to me.” “Alriiight!” The trio angled off towards the southern side of the river, aiming to take what seemed like the quicker of the two paths. Rainbow figured they’d probably have a bit of a bumpy ride – maybe there’d even be rapids! – but it shouldn’t really be a problem given how big their canoe was. The boat bumped and rocked as it passed over the unexpectedly shallow mouth of the branch, immediately picking up speed as it did. “Yes!” Rainbow cheered. “Finally! Some actually speed!” No nevermind that they weren’t even at a trotting-pace, because compared to before? Like lightning. “You that claustrophobic?” Squirrel asked. “What? No,” Rainbow said with some confusion. “But if we’ve got these dang trees above us then I can’t scout and find you again, obviously. Plus... yeah, I hate it when I can’t fly even if I wanted to, but that’s more of a takeoff problem on this thing,” she said, giving the hull a solid thump with the butt of her oar, “than a tree-thing.” Admittedly, she probably could takeoff on such an unstable base, but since she’d just as likely tip the canoe as not when she did, it wasn’t really an option. “I hadn’t thought about that,” Squirrel admitted, tapping a hoof against the hull herself. “You’ve been taking off from a standstill the last few days.” “Well sure – on solid ground.” Around them, the river kept picking up speed until it reached what must’ve been a solid trot, the water burbling loudly all about. The trees thinned perhaps a touch too, letting them see further around them than they could before. “What was that?” Twilight said, jerking her head sharply leftwards. Looking, Rainbow couldn’t make out anything – just bushes, trees, rocks, and... hang on. “Wait – I see something too,” she said, peering into the gloom. “A bear, maybe?” It’d looked like a dark blob darting low over the ground, its form soon lost from sight. “Whatever it is, we’re on a boat,” Squirrel said frankly. “There’s no pony-threats out here, anyways. There’s no way I wouldn’t’ve heard about it if there was.” “I wasn’t getting spooked.” “Well, just ignore it then.” Rainbow intended to do just that, except – “There it is again!” she said, pointing to another of the blobs, like a low, spindly-legged mound. “Or a different one – can’t see nothing in this.” “I... yes, I can see it,” Squirrel admitted, a note of uncertainty in her voice. “Can’t say I know quite what it is, but again – we’re in a boat. We’re fine.” They didn’t see anything more of the odd creatures for a while after, their canoe drifting happily downstream as their branch of the river soon turned to butt up against the cliffwalls, giving them a pleasant sense of security. Their speed had picked up once again though as the river became ever shallower. “Left!” Twilight shouted back to them. “On three! One! Two!” With a grunt, Rainbow pushed down hard on her oar as the three of them worked to heave the stuck canoe off the rocks. With a lurch, they rotated almost perpendicular to the flow before dislodging and continuing down the budding rapids. “‘Both paths should be fine,’ she said,” Rainbow muttered mutinously. “‘They’ll both take us where we’re going,’ she said.” “And they are, aren’t they?” Squirrel replied testily, doing her best to steer them on. “We’ll be fine!” Rainbow just grumbled in response, not at all happy with how rough the trip had become. She was jostled back heavily as they rammed against another cluster of stones. “This isn’t working!” she shouted to the other two. “Leftwards, then!” Twilight called back. “Port! Let’s beach before we break something!” Rainbow grunted again, her oar digging in as they fought the current and aimed for shore. “Canoe’s okay,” Twilight confirmed, having gone over the outer hull carefully with Squirrel. The two of them were on a short, rock-and-mud section of the riverside, still puffing softly from the fight it took to get them just this far. It was abundantly clear that they hadn’t the skill to take to the river again – at least not here, where it was so rough. Unfortunately, the portage was anything but a pleasant alternative. A rustling, crunching noise heralded Rainbow’s return. “It looks pretty clear in there,” she said as she pushed back out of the woods. “It’s only bushy here by the river.” “Walking’s back on the table, then,” Squirrel said, sitting back on her haunches as she pondered the situation. “Might be our only option.” Twilight nodded slowly as she tried to work out just how far away they were from the main river route. “The canyon’s not that big,” she began, scuffing at the ground in thought. “We can’t be more than a kilometre – maybe two – from the Wither proper.” “Oh joy,” Rainbow said, grabbing her gear in resignation. “More boat-carrying, but this time through weird bug-bear-thingy territory.” “I’m sure whatever it was, it was harmless,” Squirrel said, sitting up to gather her own belongings. “And if it’s not, Twilight can always blow them up, right?” “I can?” “Well... can you?” “Umm...” Technically, battle-magic was well within her abilities to perform; unfortunately, she’d never seen any reason to actually learn any such spells before. “Let’s not count on it.” “Oh. Shoot.” Rainbow rounded on her. “Hey! I thought you said there weren’t any pony-eaters out here!?” “I did! There aren’t! I definitely would’ve heard about them if there was!” “Not if the Nestlonians didn’t want us to know!” “‘Nestlonians’?” Squirrel mouthed, aghast at the bizarre word. “Dash, I really don’t think the village conspired to send us to our doom,” Twilight said, hoping to temper Rainbow’s defensive... enthusiasm. “I’m certain there’d’ve been better methods to do so it they did.” “Yeah, well – fine. But if we all get eaten then I totally told you so,” Rainbow harumphed. “Wouldn’t ‘Nestlians’ sound better?” Squirrel mumbled. “No, that sounds pretty awful too,” Twilight said, securing her and Rainbow’s pannier straps. “Now let’s get this canoe up and going while we still have plenty of light. Which way’s north, Dash?” “That way,” Rainbow said, pointing as she wrestled her end of the canoe upside down. “Then we’ve a heading.” In short order they’d gotten the canoe up and over their heads before trooping heavily into the woods, leaving the merrily babbling river behind. Rainbow was right – it was pretty clear out here, the initially thick line of bushes having only extended a hooffull of lengths in. Twilight couldn’t see too much from her place in the middle, but she knew she should have a fairly straightforward time of it – the trees were spaced just far enough apart their path wasn’t too serpentine, although the rocks and ruts in the ground led to more than one instance of cursing and stumbling. Unfortunately, there was one other problem. “Can you still see them?” Rainbow asked, her voice low. They’d been forced so slow by their route that they didn’t even need to stop for Squirrel to heft the canoe above her head. “Yeah,” she said, voice hushed. “Two, now. They look skittish.” The odd creatures had returned; at barely more than barrel height, with four spindly, arched legs, thickly-scaled back, and what Twilight was fairly certain were a pair of pedipalps, they hardly seemed too threatening as they lurched and skittered about. Intimidating, certainly, but logically not too threatening. Unless they were venomous, of course. It didn’t help that all her senses were screaming ‘pack animal,’ either. They appeared to just be observing the trio for now. Normally any sensible pony would find another path, but they were becoming increasingly worried about the waning sunlight. “Slow and steady, then,” Twilight said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “They’re probably just curious, anyways.” “Seriously, Twi?” “Well... they’re not doing anything but watching us, right? So that’s good.” Of course, it was a bit difficult to know for sure given that the canoe’s bobbing kept blocking their sight. It was only a few minutes later, after having dragged the canoe up a particularly difficult slope, that the third one appeared almost directly in their path. “Hold up,” Squirrel whispered, abandoning the canoe as she crouched down low. “Maybe get your hatchet out?” Rainbow suggested, eying the creature warily. Squirrel shook her head. “I’m better off bucking – grab it if you want it.” Twilight split her attention between the two of them while she tried to figure out what to do. Something about this didn’t seem to add up to her, but she couldn’t quite put her hoof on it. “Don’t go charging in, Rainbow,” she cautioned, creeping up to join the other two as they huddled against an adjacent tree. Almost immediately the creature thumped its forelimbs down into the earth, screeching. “You sure you don’t know any blow-things-up spells, Twilight?” Squirrel asked, not even bothering to keep her voice down now. “Nothing appropriate for this!” she squeaked. With a grinding, tearing noise the creature tore rough lines into the earth, chunks of dirt and rock flying all about. A moment later, however, it skittered backwards and out of sight. The trio stared after it for several quiet moments before speaking. “That’s... odd,” Twilight finally said. Was it a sentry sounding an alert? “Gone is good,” Squirrel said, hushing her voice once again. “We going back?” “And walk the rapids? The shore, that is,” Twilight said uncertainly. “But we must be nearly there, right? Maybe we should press on.” Rainbow snorted, standing on her hinds and peering around suspiciously at everything. “They’ll follow us if we go back, won’t they? They’ve been following us since we took the fork.” “Maybe. Unless we’re nearing their nest, or warren, or whatever.” Going forwards hardly seemed the sensible option, but going back didn’t seem much safer. “What happened to the other two?” “Gone. Or hiding.” They settled into an uneasy silence. Although Twilight knew that the sensible thing was to turn back, her intuition kept poking holes in her thoughts. “Right, let’s look at this rationally,” she began thinking quietly aloud. “Either route can get us to the main river, but as both can attract these creatures those points cancel each other out. Going forwards is more likely to attract attention, mind you, but as it should also have us out of here sooner there’d be less time to attract attention in.” She fell to muttering to herself before speaking clearly again. “Getting there sooner helps us get out of these woods sooner too, though, so that would seem the better option... if it’s a burrow of sorts it’d be even worse, though. Shoot.” “I say we go forwards,” Rainbow chipped in in a whisper, hatchet still in hoof. “Running from things just makes you more scared, right? So let’s not run.” “Don’t know if we can hack and buck our way through them if we get in trouble,” Squirrel dithered, clearly not too fond of the idea, but just as clearly wary of the alternative. “Can you levitate and bash things with rocks and sticks, Twilight?” “Hmm? No – telekinesis impels virtually no force upon the levitated object. I’m surprised you don’t know that.” Squirrel shrugged self-consciously. “Never thought to ask anyone before.” “We can look after you, Twi,” Rainbow assured her, tucking the hatchet under a wing as she fell back to all fours. “So... forwards or back?” Squirrel peered quietly at Twilight, apparently leaving the decision up to her. Well, here goes nothing. “Let’s go on.” The sooner they were out the better, and it was feeling far too much like the creatures would be harassing them no matter which path they chose. “Okay then,” Squirrel nodded as she moved back to the canoe. “Let’s be quiet about this.” The three of them carefully, fretfully, heaved the canoe back overhead and started forwards once more. Progress was exceedingly slow, with either Squirrel or Rainbow’s end hefted high enough at all times to let them keep lookout. While occasionally they could make out one or more of the creatures, they were always keeping their distance – much to the ponies’ relief. They’d reached a small rise when they put the boat back down to rest. Taking long pulls out of their canteens, they sat on their haunches, staring worriedly out into the gloom. “I wonder what time it is,” Twilight whispered to herself. “Probably after noon?” Squirrel muttered back. “Not long after. All goes well, we should be well down the river by nightfall.” “Can we backtrack to Nestle? There’s a deer or two I’d like to yell at.” “Heh – nah, it’s all upriver I’m afraid.” “Dang.” “More of them over there,” Rainbow interrupted, pointing down and left of the way they were going. “See that ridge?” Twilight peered out into the distance; a particularly large tree, fallen with its roots exposed to the sky, quickly caught her eye. Squinting, she could make out movement in its divot. “There’s more around the tree itself, too,” Rainbow added, frowning. “We’ll go wide around it,” Twilight decided. “If that’s some sort of nest, then we don’t want to get any closer than we have to.” “Would’ve expected more of them around there if that were the case,” Squirrel chipped in. “Unless they’re scared?” “I suppose they could be,” Twilight conceded hesitantly. “We are considerably larger than them; plus, we’ve only really seen a few of them at a time – maybe there isn’t actually that many of them?” “Let’s not count on it,” Rainbow said dismissively, looking eager to move on. “Safer that way. I’m good to go.” “Same,” Twilight nodded. They carried on down the steep northern side of the rise, keeping an ever-watchful eye on the ridge. By this point they could see several of the creatures moving about. Curiously, only a few of them were actually watching the party; the rest appeared to be darting in and out of sight, or disappearing up into the canopy. “At least we know where the birds went,” Rainbow mumbled, ears folding back. “And at least they don’t seem to be web-spinners,” Squirrel added. “Unless it’s invisible thread?” Twilight, head ducked low, saw the nearest of the creatures jerk towards them as they spoke. “Quiet!” she hissed out, giving Rainbow a telekinetic poke in the back. “They can hear you!” As if on queue, the creature rapped hard on the ground before charging towards them. Twilight held her breath as it approached, hoping it was just feigning. “It isn’t stopping!” Rainbow barked, ducking out from beneath the gunwales before the creature got too close. “Drop the canoe!” Squirrel and Twilight hastily tossed the canoe aside to land heavily on the ground. While a single one of these things wouldn’t be much of a threat, the shadowed divot was writhing with activity – more were coming. “We should get out of here!” Twilight yelped, frantically looking around. “We can’t leave the canoe!” Squirrel insisted, standing her ground. This wasn’t a canyon for walking through – they were committed now. The creature darted at Rainbow before coming to a thumping stop only a couple paces away, pounding on the ground with its adze-like legs like a baying dog. Rainbow lashed out, swinging her hatchet with abandon, missing as the bug-thing fell back and continued to pound on the ground. “Get the canoe out of here!” she shouted back at them, her voice cracking. “Grab your end,” Squirrel said as she started pulling her own end forwards. “We’ll drag it!” Twilight hurried, pushing the canoe scraping along the ground while Rainbow kept close, her wings wide as she postured at the creature. More of the things were pouring out of the divot – Twilight was far too busy for a good count, but guessed as many as a dozen. Fear gave them legs as they quickly made more progress in those few minutes than they’d made in the last quarter-hour, as they pulled and shoved their transport onwards, heedless of the stones and roots they scraped and butted against. A shout from behind broke the daze she’d fallen into – Rainbow had lunged again to swipe at the thing, its brethren fanning out close towards them. With a dull thunk her hatchet clove into one of the creatures limbs, cracking it, pink and white poking through the broken shell. It leapt back squealing as Rainbow readied herself for more, roaring indiscriminately at the creatures. Something seemed to break inside of Twilight. She was frightened, she was tired – a small part of her was even sad at the poor thing’s misery. But she would not just sit there while Rainbow was hurt, ‘no combat-magic’ be damned. She abandoned her efforts with the boat, looking desperately around for anything she could use as a weapon. Her horn glowed as she spied a long, straight-ish branch, ripping it from the nearest tree and shearing off its twigs. Rearing up, she held it spear-like in her hooves, her pasterns locking it tightly into place. She never learnt much about using weapons, no matter her brother’s attempts to teach her, but she thought she could remember just enough to go down swinging. Squirrel had settled on Rainbow’s far side, hunched low to the ground, muscles taut. As much as Twilight wanted to say something – anything – her mouth didn’t seem to want to work anymore. She was breathing rapidly, deeply as though she’d just run a race, but before she could try and tame it the nearest of the things pounced at her. Frantically, Twilight thrust at the creature, striking it a glancing blow midair; the thing slid along the shaft, bouncing off her shoulder and nearly knocking her to the ground. She struggled to regain her footing, berating herself as she tried to remember everything she could about how to stand, how to step, and how to strike. But in the heat of the moment all she could do was thrust and bash awkwardly, knowing that she could do it with so much more force, knowing she could do it with so much more alacrity, but being far too busy just trying to survive to actually do so. The creature reeled under her clumsy assault, skittering back to hide amongst its kin. Beside her, Twilight could make out the blur of movement, of cyan and dun rolling and leaping and darting, but it was all she could do to concentrate on her own situation. She stepped forward, the knobly branch sliding roughly through her forehoof as she harried the creature, trying to keep it as far away from her as possible. The creature easily sidestepped her attack, but she kept at it, thrusting over and over at whichever beast was closest, at whichever one wasn’t moving for even a moment. She stumbled, dropping her point to the ground to keep her balance. As if waiting for this moment, the nearest creature leapt up at her neck, smashing against her shoulder as she cowered instinctively. It clung to her, scrabbling and scratching as it tried to bite its way through her jacket. Branch dropped, she batted frantically at it with her hooves; panicking anew, her horn glowed bright as she dumped a blast of raw magic towards it, a discordant mass of pressure that made her ears pop, but succeeded in knocking the thing off of her. She swung an empty hoof blindly at its retreating form before scrambling to pick up her branch again, thrusting wildly in front of her as she hastily retreated back towards the others. The creatures started falling back almost as one, hissing and thumping – but clearly wary of them. Risking a glance, Twilight saw three – no, four – of them on the ground, writhing, or trying to drag themselves away from the ponies. Rainbow and Squirrel both looked worse for wear, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with them. “We need to move the boat.” It took a moment for Twilight to realize that the words had come out of her own mouth. Squirrel blinked dazedly at her before darting towards the bow of the canoe, pulling it onwards as she stared wide-eyed back at the things. After a moment’s hesitation Twilight moved to join her, shoving at the stern, her head turned perennially over her withers to keep watch. They had a dismal time of it, far too distracted and ill-coordinated to make much progress, but their efforts in the fight seemed to have intimidated the creatures – they’d followed only enough to hover about their injured kin before they all faded from view amongst the trees. The next half-hour passed in panting silence; Twilight pushed, Squirrel pulled, and Rainbow stood vigil – that was enough. “Stop,” Squirrel said suddenly, making the other two jump in surprise. “We’ve some distance now – grab some water and check for injuries.” Twilight hadn’t realized until now just how parched she’d become. She didn’t protest, releasing her end of the canoe to lay back wearily against the hull, her horn aglow as she plucked out a pair of canteens. “Dash,” she said, hovering one over to the grateful pegasus. Taking several long pulls, eyes on the thin woods around them all the while, she rolled her shoulders, examining herself for any open cuts or breaks. Not finding any, she looked over the other two. “Just bruises, I think,” Rainbow said, hoofing back her canteen. “If there’s any blood, it’s not enough to go through my jacket.” Twilight nodded as she tried to ignore the mixed fear and anger at the thought of a maimed Dash. “‘Bout the same here,” Squirrel added, stretching widely and carefully. Undoubtably they’d all be feeling this tomorrow, but for now they seemed to be okay. “I don’t know if they have venom or not,” Twilight said, lurching tiredly back to her hooves. “If anyone feels weak or, I don’t know, dizzy, say something immediately.” Not that there was anything they’d be able to do about it. The other two nodded as, in unspoken agreement, they stowed their canteens and set about pushing their canoe onwards, still far too wary to blinker themselves with a portage. The merry chattering of water was like music to their ears. Twilight had long since lost track of time, but given the dappling of sunlight ahead, it was likely not long past noon. While they hadn’t seen any sign of the creatures since the fight, they hadn’t dropped their guard either. So it was that, rather than break into a trot at the sight, they only breathed sighs of relief as they warily carried the canoe onwards. Her back and shoulders were killing her. They’d ceased pushing along the ground, instead taken to holding up the boat between them – while good for keeping on eye on their surroundings, her body really wasn’t meant for this. Even Squirrel was starting to flag. “I think you’ll be doing all the rowing, Dash,” Twilight puffed out as they neared the river. “My arms feel like lead.” “Current’ll do most of it for us,” Rainbow replied, hatchet still tucked under a wing. “But I gotcha.” They stepped out onto the narrow bank and sat the canoe on the water’s edge. Although the tree cover was noticeably thinner here, the area was still cast in gloom and shadow. “Right – let’s get this loaded.” They quickly doffed their gear and stowed it back under the thwarts; once done, they pushed off into the river, soon getting caught up in the current. “Oars out and rowing,” Squirrel said once they’d reached the deeper central parts. “I want to get out of this mess as soon as possible.” “No kidding,” Rainbow said, hesitating a moment before finally setting down the hatchet and tucking it close to Squirrel’s gear, before she grabbed an oar. Twilight just groaned as she picked up her own and made an effort to keep pace. The rare spots of sunlight felt warm on her fur, their number growing as they went, the canopy thinning above them. “Sorry,” Twilight mumbled. “Hmm?” “About before – going on instead of falling back to the rapids was a really dumb idea.” She shrunk in on herself, unable to look either of them in the eye. Rainbow snorted, wings ruffling in agitation. “Going back would’ve been dumb too, right? Those bugs would’ve attacked us either way, but this way we’re on a river now, and not lugging a boat all over the place anymore – that’s way better.” “But they weren’t aggressive before,” Twilight insisted. “If that fallen tree was their burrow, or an entrance to their nest or something, then they might’ve left us alone if we’d gone back.” “Maybe,” Squirrel chimed in. “Or maybe they’d’ve just waited til nightfall – we wouldn’t’ve gotten out otherwise today.” Rainbow growled, digging her oar in angrily. “Yeah, about that – how the hay didn’t anyone tell us about the pony-eating monsters in there?!” “I... don’t know,” Squirrel admitted. “I didn’t specifically – I just asked about dangers along the route, you know? Maybe they’re new.” “Maybe they’re not even pony-eaters?” Twilight wondered. “Herbivorous animals can be quite violent when defending their territory. If true, maybe that’s why noone told us?” The explanation sounded weak, even to Twilight. “Pretty sure you’re just splitting hairs there, Twi,” Rainbow said. “Like, fire doesn’t eat people or anything, but you still tell people if things are on fire, right? ‘Cause it’s still hot.” “Yeah,” Twilight deflated in her seat. “Yeah. Perhaps a newly invasive species, then. I suppose the barges don’t stop anywhere along the river, here?” “If there’s no docks or villages, then definitely not,” Squirrel said, staring into the woods around them. “It’s a pretty big canyon, too, and there were, what, only a dozen of them?” “‘Only,’ she says,” Rainbow scoffed. “Something like that,” Twilight said, studiously ignoring her. “Let’s make a note to ask about it in Beech – maybe someone there’ll know more.” She also carefully made a note to never to go back to Nestle again, just in case Rainbow’s conspiracy theory was right. They relaxed in the afternoon sun; with the canopy ever-thinning above them, they were largely content to simply drift downstream, enjoying what little light still pierced the canyon walls. Having given up on her attempts to row, Twilight tugged out her mapbook, figuring she’d do well to at least work out where they were. Unfortunately, the maps were too large-scale for her to make out much in the way of details; she could make out what she thought was the ill-fated branching they’d taken earlier, but for all she knew it could just as well be a different one further ahead. If that wasn’t the case, however, then there was a solid chance they’d get to within a couple hours’ travel to Autumn Beech by nightfall. What further branching there was appeared relatively inconsequential, with wide plains that should open up soon on the northern bank. Beech itself appeared to sit right at the fork where the Whither split into a myriad of little riverways, the majority of which then joined together to flow north and south of the low mountains east of the city. One of these southern branches was what they were looking for – one that would take them through the Seven Mines mountains, thus swiftly bypassing the treacherous north Coriander. Unless they’d been mislead about that, too. Soured by the thought, Twilight huffed, slapping the maps irritably. “What’s up?” Rainbow asked, midstroke. “Remember Waffles? From Nestle?” Rainbow set aside her oar, ears perked. “It’s been, like, a day, Twi – yeah, I remember.” “I’m just wondering... can we even trust her and Channel, now? About the shortcut through the mines. After those creatures...” Rainbow frowned. “I hadn’t thought about that.” “Weren’t you two going to ask about that in Beech?” Squirrel chimed in from the stern. “I still don’t think the pony-eaters were a trap – doesn’t feel like it, anyways – and the bypass is kind of well-known.” “We’re definitely double-checking on that in Beech, yes.” Twilight shook her head slowly, clapping her mapbook shut and tucking it back away. “I don’t know – maybe I’m just being paranoid.” “Understandable,” Squirrel conceded. “On that note, how’s everyone feeling? It’s been a couple hours now, I think.” “Sore,” Twilight grimaced. “Just sore – luckily.” “Same,” Rainbow grunted, returning to her rowing. “The sooner we set up camp the better.” “We still need some distance,” Twilight said, gesturing at her stowed maps. “We should be able to get to within a couple hours of Beech by evening.” “Ugh. At least the current’s still good.” “Mmhmm.” The sun was beginning to disappear behind the hills rising ahead. It was some hours now since they’d come into view, appearing low in front of them as soon as they’d left the canyon. The day had warmed up around them nicely, leaving them in good cheer as they kept a weather eye out for somewhere to pitch their tents. “And that’s when I punched it right in the face!” Rainbow crowed. “It totally would’ve bitten grumpy Squirrel in the flank if I hadn’t!” “Really,” Twilight drawled, glancing at Squirrel to see her rolling her eyes; Rainbow had spent the last several minutes regaling them with her actions in the fight, despite the fact that they were both there beside her. Perhaps it was practice for when they got home? “You know it! It was all she could do to not fall down crying in thanks.” “That doesn’t sound very much like Squirrel,” Twilight noted doubtfully. “She hides it well,” Rainbow nodded sagely before whipping around to grin at the mare. “But that’s why she’s gonna give us a discount, right? A flank-saving discount.” “... I’ll think about it.” Rainbow shrugged. “Meh – better than nothing.” “Are we close enough to call it a day?” Squirrel asked, none-too-subtlely changing the subject. “We should be good,” Twilight nodded, quietly pleased with how far they’d gotten despite their fatigue – they’d have plenty of time to plan things in town tomorrow, this way. “See somewhere good?” “Sort of – the bend up ahead has enough of a beach for us; the trees will be nice, too.” The three of them began rowing again with renewed vigour, eager for rest and a hot meal. The canoe bumped gently up the pebbly slope, Twilight hopping on out with a splash to drag it further ashore, the other two close behind. Taking stock of the location, they found themselves in fairly clear wooded area that should hopefully shelter them should the weather turn foul overnight. “I’ll scout around,” Rainbow said, immediately taking to the air. “While she’s doing that, I’ll find somewhere level to camp,” Twilight said, heading into the woods, needles and twigs crackling with each hoofstep. “Plenty of firewood,” Squirrel added, head held high as she peered about cautiously. “We’re well away from the beasties here, too.” “We’ll be safe,” Twilight said, as much to assure herself as Squirrel. “Dash’ll spot anything suspicious, anyways.” “Except they burrow, right? That’s what you said,” Squirrel said, as she started to sound rather spooked. Twilight gave her a friendly shoulder-bump. “We’ll be fiiine, Squirrel – don’t worry about it. Besides, we roughed them up once; we can do it again.” “Of course we can,” Squirrel said, relaxing somewhat. “Of course we can. This looks as good as anywhere, doesn’t it?” They’d wandered several metres in, finding a fairly even, stony spot that looked decent. First checking around for any ants or the like, Squirrel began setting loose rocks in a circle before gathering some firewood; at the same time, Twilight made her way back to the canoe. She was just shuttling the last of their gear to the campsite when Rainbow thumped down. “How are we?” Twilight asked, pleased that Rainbow didn’t look worried. “All good,” Rainbow said with a flick of her tail. “We’re in a thin strip of trees, maybe a hundred metres at most across? Just meadows and more mountains after that.” “Sounds lovely,” Twilight said, dropping the gear into the pile. “How’s Beech? Could you see it?” “Yup! Built on some hills around the rivers. Lots of farmland too – might be rice or something?” Rainbow frowned before shaking her head dismissively. “Danged if I can tell from this far – it’s growing in mud, whatever it is.” Squirrel tossed the last of the tinder into the small stack she’d gathered. “Does sound like rice,” she agreed as she grabbed her panniers and began rooting through them. “If you’ve got any food you want cooked, grab it and we can get going on dinner.” They’d picked up some tubers and roots in Nestle, figuring the variety would make up for the extra bulkiness. In short order they’d gotten Twilight’s pot out and set to boil on the fire, while the three of them kept busy gathering more wood and getting their tents set up. Night had fallen by the time they were done. “Potatoes and carrots,” Rainbow mused, poking at the pot. “I guess it counts as a stew. Sorta. Would be better if it hadn’t gotten dark so quick though.” “We could pick up some herbs in Beech?” Twilight suggested. “You won’t likely be able to scrounge anything growing wild afterwards.” “Or before,” Rainbow sighed. “Ah well. Maybe they’ll have some oregano?” “We’ve the time to check,” Twilight said, as Squirrel passed out some cheap wooden spoons and bowls she’d picked up in Nestle. “It wouldn’t make sense to leave until the day after tomorrow, bright and early in the morning.” She yawned before digging into her food; it wasn’t half-bad, all things considered, though that may’ve just been her hunger talking. Eventually they ran out of excuses to stay awake. They chatted briefly about keeping a watch, but ultimately decided there was no need to feed their paranoia; plus, not only did they all really need the sleep, but none of them had any experience keeping watch, so they’d probably just end up passing out anyways. With that decided, they doused the fire, crawled into their tents, and tried to find some rest.