//------------------------------//
// The Myth 
// Story: The Fog on the Other Side of the River 
// by tastetheRainbowDash 
//------------------------------//

	There are tales, tales as old as Celestia. Tales as old as Equestria. And tales as old as life itself. Some of these tales are tales of heroism, or legends. Not this tale.This tale is a tale as old as life, a tale explaining pain, and misfortune. This tale may not even be true. This tale, this very tale, is a myth. 
Celestia has most likely to seek the truth behind this myth. Maybe some other pony has tried to discover hard core truth and fact into this myth, but to all, it's nothing other than an overly told fairy tale used to keep little fillies and colts out of the horrid Everfree Forest. The tale was of a dark lonely figure. The tale was of me.





I sit there, all alone in my forest all day, watching. 
What do I watch for? 
I do not know. That would have to be one of the questions I've been asking myself since I was a young gentlecolt.Actually, I do not even remember if I was ever such a colt, or even a colt at all!
As I sat there, I thought. Thought about how I could make my long painful days of loneliness easier to handel. 
There was nothing. I could not do anything to make my life easier to live. I was doomed with a curse. The curse of being so obscure in my surroundings. It was never my fault that I had chosen to live in such a place. I actually enjoy it.
But the loneliness kills me deep inside.
Sure, there are animals surrounding me, but whenever I try to neigh softly at them, the get frightened and run off. Some creatures are not made to look as kind as a bunny, and I was one of those creatures.
I noticed something strange in all my years. everypony other than me could talk, eat, and see fine. That is,everypony but me. 
Did I have some sort of birth defect? I honestly can say that I was different. I was too different. Is this why I feel attached to this side of the river? The side that nopony lived in? I guess so. I could be myself here, not that I really had a choice.
Finally, after sitting down for quite awhile, possibly a few hours, I stood up. At this point of the day, I was hungry. I slowly walked, due to the lack of explanation of why I should run, I searched. Searched for a berry or two. I found my favorite, Synsepalum Dulcificum, better known as sweet berries or miracle fruit. Each bite I took, the berries grew sweeter and sweeter. This is why I loved them so much. I felt like I could eat anything with these. And I could, Literally.
The best part about these fruits was that miraculin, a sugar substitute, sticks to your tongue to give a sweeter flavor to everything you eat closely after. 
So I ate grass. Considering there were only about three perfectly ripe fruits. I was still hungry. Surprisingly, I eat a lot, for somepony as thin and slender as I. And for somepony without a tongue.Yet I can still taste.
For somepony with no mouth, I could still eat.
For somepony with no eyes, I could still see.
And for somepony with no nose, I could still smell.
And smell I did. There was a wonderful sent, carrying me off into the dark forest that was my home. For this scent was so old yet so new, I have smelt it only a few times before. It was the scent of fresh meat. Fresh young meat. I haven't had this since the years of the Princesses' castle was just across the river. And I have never smelt the smell over on this side of the river.
I ran. I ran at a full gallop to see where this scent would take me. The scent of fresh meat grew stronger, and finally, I could tell what it was. And it wasn't a what. It wasn't an it. It was two its. Two young ponies. 
I kept running, trying to figure where the two ponies would be. Sniffing the air once again, I smelt their age. They were teenagers, old enough to be out of school and to have a job, but not yet old enough to have foals.
My curiosity grew. I could smell their gender, both female. This made all the more difference. I have no idea why, but mares just smelt and tasted better than males. It was just the way it was. But sometimes the male stallions did smell good. They usually end up tasting horrible.
I galloped faster towards the scent. Oh, my Princess, did they smell delectably good! 
The final thing I had to sniff out before finding the two mares' location was their breed. They both smelled of the same breed, but as far as I could tell, I didn't know which race they were. I slowed a bit, before once again starting to jog toward the two unidentified mares in a light trot. 
Getting closer and closer, I was getting hungrier and hungrier. These two would surely satisfy the hunger that the miracle fruit and grass could not. But one thing was confusing me. I still could not identify their race.
Still jogging over to where the two stood, I stopped. I could smell it now. The smell of feathers. That was why I couldn't identify their race. I'm around feathers everyday, and have been for my whole life. The two ponies were young, female pegasi! Pegasi were always my favorite. They're fiesty and they put up a good fight. I always win of course. 
I came up to a clearing by the river. I didn't want to get too close that they would see me, but I wanted to get close enough.
There. Over to the right of the clearing was a small patch of trees that would conceal me quite well. Quietly trotting over to the trees, I pondered on the fact of what they would taste like. 
But that was before I saw them. One was a light blue, like a petunia. Her mane was multicolored and styled in a colt-ish manner. The other was a pale goldenrod color, with a slightly curled light pink mane. I was surprised I knew my colors so well, for I have never ventured outside of my forest.
Then I noticed what the two were doing. The petunia one had a book. I could just make out the title, Myths and Mythical Creatures. The other was shrunken underneath a lone tree in the center of the clearing. Laid out in front of the blue pegasus was a set of shiny metal objects. I knew what they were. Knives.
The pegasi weren't lost as I thought they would be. They were hunting. For me. 
I took an careless step back, and a loud crack was heard. I had stepped on a branch. The blue mare turned and stared right at me while the other shrunk behind her tree even more. 
I turned around and galloped as fast as I could in the other direction.