//------------------------------// // Part II - The Forest // Story: The Effects of Gravity // by Akela Stronghoof //------------------------------// The Effects of Gravity – Akela Stronghoof ---xOx--- Part II – The Forest ---xOx--- Green. That was what Dipper saw when he opened his eyes again. Green. Y’know what’s green? Leaves. Y’know what Dipper had a mouthful of? The boy pushed himself out of the bush and retched out the offending foliage, back arching and fingers digging into the dirt. A wayward caterpillar took a clump of regurgitated plant matter to the face, flailing its tiny legs and flipping end over end into the woody part of the bush. It took a minute, some frantic tongue-rubbing, and three more insect casualties to get the bitter taste off his tongue to the point where Dipper could manage cognition again. Pushing himself up, the twelve year-old dusted off his shorts and looked around, assessing his surroundings. To his right was the bush he had been so unceremoniously dumped into. It was a big, big bush, with leaves not unlike that of a petunia. It was by sheer luck that he had ended up in that one and not, say, the (what appeared to be a) rose bush next to it. If that had been the case, Dipper would have been more concerned with the thorns in his eyes than the leaves in his mouth. To his left was a meadow—no, a clearing, Dipper could easily see the trees on the other side of the low hill—a blanket of rolling grass with patches of bright flowers sewn on. If the ground was a blanket, however, then the sky was a patchwork quilt—sections of brilliant cerulean marbled with bright white clouds, casting light down onto the land. Birds twittered happily, their songs forming a chorus that drifted on the gentle breeze. The delicate scent of honeysuckle hit Dipper’s nose and he took a deep breath, steeling himself. It was rather obvious what the next order of business was. “WHAT THE HELL—” and the next few seconds were a mess of screaming and hair pulling that put an end to the peace of the forest and sent the birds scattering. Dipper was experiencing a debilitating rush of fear, adrenaline, and disbelief that was a common side effect to unexpected events involving mysterious glowing crystals and apparent teleportation. In layman’s terms, he was freaking the hell out. Hyperventilation, lip biting and teeth grinding—all quite normal reactions, considering his current situation. After a short while, Dipper ran out of air and had to sit down. This brief respite allowed him to think of a far more important detail than where he was. “Mabel!” the boy gasped, turning and rising to his feet. He thrust his hands into the fuzzy leaves of the bush and pulled them apart as best he could, peering in. The dark interior of the massive growth was almost impregnable to his sight. The parts he could see were just leaves, leaves, and more leaves. They rippled softly, casting strange shadows on the ground that reminded Dipper of things he’d seen on late-night science fiction movies. A few of the leaves Dipper was holding sprang back into place, obscuring his view—but not before a stray ray of sun flashed pink in the corner of the messy-haired boy’s eye. Heart pounding in his chest, Dipper forced his way into the bush. It took a few seconds—walking through a tight mass of leaves isn’t easy—but the twelve year-old got to where he had seen the flash of magenta (was magenta a kind of pink? Dipper thought it was). He bent slightly and pushed his hand down into the undergrowth. He felt around a bit, but got nothing. Maybe he was seeing things, he couldn’t be sure that he had actually seen Mabel’s hair band, it could have just as easily been— “Zzzz. . . I ask of. . . are you. . . zzz. . . master. . .” The words were unconnected and whimsical, yet the voice was unmistakable. Dipper’s head snapped to the side. That was Mabel talking, no doubt about it. A quick step to the right, almost stumbling as the tightly-packed leaves of the bush provided firm resistance. The boy’s hand went down, pushing through the foliage, grasping, searching, and Dipper’s palm came into contact with something soft. A second later— “uuuuuurgggghhhhahohMYGOSH” and Dipper’s arm was slapped with such force that it sent him reeling backwards, before losing his footing and toppling face first through the leaves and onto the ground. Mabel had, somehow, fallen through the bush instead of into it. She had been asleep, and Dipper had accidentally woken her by patting her head. The brunette was half-sitting, half-flailing about, still groggy and half asleep. Mabel was in the midst of shouting something about some kind of sword and a guy with a spear trying to kill her when her twin crawled over and shook her shoulder. “Mabel! Mabel, it’s me!” The girl’s exclamations died down and she lifted her arm, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. She yawned deeply, jawbone creaking in protest. Mabel paused, eyes flicking around in confusion, before settling on the one familiar object in her field of vision. There was a sound like a pillow hitting a wall as Mabel catapulted into her brother’s midsection, flinging them both out of the bush and into the bright sunshine of the forest glade. They rolled, slipping slightly the cool grass, and then they were laughing and hugging and crying and they stayed that way for a while. “Dipper,” Mabel finally spoke, the first conscious words leaving her mouth. “Dipper, where are we? How did we get here?” She was looking around, wide-eyed with wonder, taking in the sights. Mabel was an avid lover of nature, and was prone to spending large amounts of time simply staring at trees, rocks, and the like. She had once spent an entire day poking a broken bees’ nest with a stick and giggling (Dipper thought she might have a problem). This place, with the tall trees, bright sunlight, and myriad birds and animals, must have looked like an Eden to her. “I. . . don’t know,” Dipper admitted, brow furrowing. He didn’t like not knowing things. “But it definitely has something to do with that thing we found in the cave. “The glowing rock thingy?” Mabel asked. “But—but—how could something like that do this?” “That Crystal, yeah,” Dipper sighed. The capital “C” wasn’t intentional—there was just something about the Crystal that made it impossible to not refer to it with proper respect. Dipper got to his feet, holding his hand out to his sister and pulling her up with him. “I can’t even begin to think of how, but—I think that thing teleported us. I mean, does this look like Gravity Falls Forest to you?” “Nope!” Mabel replied cheerfully. “It’s a lot prettier, and with a lot less dead leaves!” It took her brother a moment to understand the ramifications of Mabel’s statement. Then Dipper whirled around and dashed towards the tree line, skidded to a stop, and confirmed that yes, there were barely any leaves on the ground. That wasn’t the end of it, either—unlike the familiar flowers in the glade, the forest had bright blue flowers he was dead sure he had never seen before. “Oh no, oh no, oh no no no no no. . . This is really, really, really bad.” Dipper paced back and forth along the forest edge, small clods of dirt kicking up with each step. The preteen girl watched her brother nervously, biting her lower lip. “Um,” Mabel asked. Dipper kept pacing. “Um, Dipper? Why is that bad?” Dipper made a noise and stopped. “Alright. Mabel, There’s a lotta dead leaves in Gravity Falls Forest. They’re all over the place, right?” “Right!” Mabel responded cheerfully, adjusting her bright pink headband. “So,” Dipper continued. “This place has almost no leaves on the ground. Right?” “Mmhmm!” “And—bear with me here, Mabel—it’s not just Gravity Falls Forest that has a bunch of dead leaves covering the ground, is it?” The preteen pointed out. Mabel shook her head vigorously, the motion sending a wave of brown hair haloing around her head like a curtain. “Nope,” she said, face split with a wide grin that turned into a frown as she continued. “It’s pretty much all of the rest of. . . Oregon. . . uh-oh.” “Yeah, ‘uh-oh’ is right,” Dipper cried. “We don’t know where we are, we could be hundreds of miles away from the Mystery Shack, we can’t call Grunkle Stan because we don’t have cell phones, and to top it all off,” here Dipper threw his arms up in defeat, “we’re in the middle of the woods! There’s probably wolves here, and, and with our luck Bigfoot will show up and—Mabel? Where are you going?” The girl had moved at some point during Dipper’s little tirade, and she was currently standing at the point where grass transitioned into the thick undergrowth of the woods. Mabel looked back at her brother and smiled, sunlight glinting off of her braces. “Well, silly, we’re definitely not gonna get back to Grunkle Stan and the Mystery Shack if all we do is stay here and complain! Come on, if we just keep going straight we’re bound to find a town eventually!” And with that Mabel turned and frolicked off between the trees. That kind of logic led to problems, Dipper knew. After all, they were much more likely to get hurt or attacked by wolves or Bigfoot or (god forbid) even more lost while wandering around the deep dark woods than staying put in a brightly lit clearing. The messy-haired boy knew, however, that trying to explain this to his happy-go-lucky twin would be like trying to draw the attention of a hungry squirrel with a burnt tire—it just wouldn’t work, and he’d end up all the more frustrated. He couldn’t just let her go off on her own (look what happened last time), so there was really only one thing to do. Rolling his eyes, fear of the forest pushed to the back of his mind and replaced with exasperation, Dipper trotted off after his sister. “Wait for me!” The sun was lost to view as the two headed into the Everfree Forest. ---xOx--- Rainbow Dash’s wings snapped out, cerulean feathers rippling as her forward momentum halted almost instantly. She seemed to hang in the air for a moment, rainbow mane shining in the sun, before her hooves hit the ground with a muted whump. “So,” Applejack asked, shifting slightly to look at her friend. “What’d y’see?” Rainbow Dash rolled her head to the side, wincing as a few vertebrae popped. “Nothing,” the pegasus replied. Turning to her lavender companion, “Whatever it is, Twilight, it’s either small or hiding in the trees. Sorry.” For the past half an hour or so, Dash had flown above the tangled mass of the Everfree Forest. She did this on Twilight’s behest—Princess Celestia’s protégé still remembered the run in with the hydra, and one time getting chased by a giant pony-eating monster was enough. This time, she wanted to know what she was getting into beforehoof. Like the speedster said, however, aerial reconnaissance was useless if whatever had caused that magic pulse was too small to see from the air (such as some kind of magical artifact) or skulking about below the canopy. Or it could be invisible, some niggling part of Twilight’s mind whispered. It’s Everfree Forest. It would be just like Everfree to make whatever it was invisible. The mage blinked. Where had that come from? Twilight hoped that she wasn’t turning into a cynic. Frowning slightly, the unicorn’s eyes darted over to the trees before focusing back on her polychromatic friend. “That’s okay, Rainbow,” she said. “Thanks for trying.” The lavender pony’s horn glowed, her right-hoof saddlebag unfastening itself. A small, tightly furled scroll floated out to hover a few inches in front of her face. The wax seal in the center was embossed with a golden sun. Twilight opened the scroll, eyes gliding over the contents therein before clearing her throat and starting to read aloud. This was more for her friends’ benefit; the studious unicorn had memorized the contents of the letter over an hour ago, when she had first received it in a puff of green dragon fire. “My Most Faithful Student, I trust that you are already aware of the spike of arcane activity that interrupted the peace earlier today. I am unsure how powerful the pulse was closer to the epicenter of the event, but even here in Canterlot every unicorn felt its effects. My sister and I have decided that investigating this phenomenon is top priority. Take the bearers of the Elements of Harmony and go to Everfree Forest. Find the origin of the pulse and, if necessary, use the power of the Elements to neutralize the threat. A squad of Royal Guards will arrive in one hour. Be careful. Princess Celestia Invictus.” There was a feeling like ice water trickling down her spine. Twilight stared at that last line, the shock of it like being struck by lightning even the fifth time reading it. The Princess never, ever used her full name in letters to the unicorn. It was a thing that just didn’t happen, like Pinkie Pie missing a party, or Fluttershy telling a rude joke, or Rarity wearing an ensemble with both navy blue and black. There was only one reason that Twilight could think of that Celestia would do that—this was serious. Not “who gets tickets to the Grand Galloping Gala” serious, but “somepony could get seriously hurt and spend some major time in a hospital” serious. That, plus the fact that the alicorn was actually sending a squadron of Royal Guards to help them, something that she didn’t even do for an attack by Cerberus, was making some part of Twilight’s brain scream that this was really really really DANGEROUS. The Princesses didn’t know what had caused the massive magical pulse. They were relying on Twilight—bearer of the Element of Magic, personal student of the Princess of the Day, one of the most magically powerful unicorns since Starswirl the Bearded—to find out what the source was and to defeat it if it proved a threat to the safety of Equestria. The bearers of the Elements of Harmony were being mobilized in their full capacity as an asset of the Equestrian Empire. The letter wasn’t an informal communique between loving student and kind mentor. It was military orders. Even as that was sinking in (and Twilight was struggling to accept the information that they had been called to active duty and to get over the fact that that DID NOT COMPUTE), Pinkie Pie was shouting for her friends to look and then the six mares were craning their necks and trying to spot the flying transport that heralded the arrival of the Royal Guard squad. No, no, they weren’t just a squad of Royal Guards, the magical prodigy thought, adjusting her mindset. They were their reinforcements. Twilight finally saw what the earth pony had been pointing out, and violet eyes tracked the gradual descent of the pegasus-drawn chariot. This was just another test, another challenge that Celestia thought her protégé was ready for and could overcome. Twilight Sparkle, Ponyville librarian, klutz, nervous wreck, took a deep, shaky breath. She could do this. Twilight Sparkle, bearer of the Element of Magic, personal student of the Princess of the Day, one of the most magically powerful unicorns since Starswirl the Bearded, stepped forward as the gleaming chariot touched down on the grass. “Twilight Sparkle?” a gravelly voice inquired. There was movement, and then a bulky, gold-armored earth pony jumped down from the back of the chariot. Blue eyes, as hard and sharp as a steel blade, swept over the six mares in front of him (Fluttershy hid behind Rainbow Dash with an ‘Eeep!’), analyzing, calculating, before finally settling on the unicorn in the forefront. “Miss Sparkle,” the massive pony spoke, muscles rippling as he stepped forward and knelt. “Commander Hardwell, at your command, ma’am.” Sweet Celestia’s horn, he’s huge, was the first thought that wound its way through Twilight’s head. That was quickly pushed aside by the much more important question of what in the hay am I supposed to say to that? Twilight opened her mouth, but no words came out. She closed it again and looked to her left desperately. Rarity turned slightly, caught her eye, cocked an eyebrow, and made a ‘go on’ motion with her right hoof. “Um,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Um, uh, thank you, uh, Commander Hardwell, I’m, uh, happy to, uh. . . command . . .you?.” Rarity smacked her hoof against her forehead. Hardwell raised an eyebrow and chuckled, standing back up to his full height and by the sun he’s taller than Applejack’s brother. The Royal Guard raised his eyebrows and stared at Celestia’s protégé, who flinched and averted her eyes. The stallion chuckled, gaze softening. “Nervous?” Twilight looked down, biting her lip. “Don’t worry. First op is always the worst. It won’t be that bad, trust me.” Then the commander turned back towards the chariot and, in a voice that shook the trees and made Fluttershy dive for cover, boomed “SOLDIERS! TEN-SHUN!” There was a scramble of activity as the pegasi hurriedly unhooked themselves from their harnesses and two unicorns practically dove out of the chariot. The four stallions hurriedly converged in front of their commander, standing at attention in two lines—pegasi in front, unicorns in back. “Gentlecolts!” Hardwell rumbled, striding back and forth. “Earlier today, a pulse of magic that came from this Celestia-forsaken forest hit Canterlot. I know it, you know it, and you two back there complained about it like little fillies!” The unicorns in the back had the decency to look rather sheepish. “We have been hoof-picked by Princess Celestia herself to investigate this disturbance, and, if necessary, beat the tar out of whatever caused it! We will be doing this by assisting the Element bearers, who happen to be these six fine mares. If any one of you has a problem with this, speak up now!” The Commander stopped and turned, staring directly at soldiers. The four stallions stayed stoic, moving less than if a cockatrice had caught them, chins upturned. The sun flashed off of their armor, refracted by the curved metal into a thousand little beams of light that made them look like they were glowing. “No? Good! Now, are you ready to do your duty to your country?!” The reply was unanimous, simultaneous, delivered with alacrity. “Sir yes sir!” Twilight stared, mesmerized. They were so regal, so disciplined and well trained. Their commander, too—that was a stallion deserving of respect. Rarity, too, was thinking of the Guard commander—but her thoughts were more along the lines of, to put it crassly, what a stud. The soldiers stood tall and proud, infinitely majestic—at least until the appearance of extreme capability was ruined when one of the pegasi—the younger of the two, by his looks—started shaking in a vain attempt to hold back his laughter. “And what,” Hardwell sighed, his weary tone showing his familiarity with the pegasus’ antics, “is so funny, Storm Runner?” The pegasus—Storm Runner, Twilight thought—fell silent. Then, like the sun peeking over the horizon, a grin spread across his face. He opened his mouth, and, in choked tones so low that the assembled ponies could barely hear him, managed to say, “. . . you said ‘duty.’” He then keeled over onto his side, wheezing and giggling hysterically even as the pegasus next to him buffeted his head with a wing. One of the unicorns in front sighed and put a hoof to his forehead, while the other had to look away to conceal his own grin. Commander Hardwell turned to the mares, and in total deadpan said, “He’s an idiot, but he can fly.” He looked like he was about to say something to Storm Runner, but a certain cerulean pegasus beat him to it. Rainbow Dash had been waiting for a while, and if there’s one thing Rainbow Dash doesn’t like it’s waiting. Some might say, “Waiting is just sitting still. Rainbow Dash lies down and doesn’t move for hours at a time, so why would she have a problem with just waiting?” The answer is simple—they’re totally different. When you’re relaxing, you’re doing it on your own terms. You decide when to start, you decide when you’ve had enough and are going to go do something else. When you were waiting, it was other ponies that determined whether or not you got what you wanted, how long it took, and what you had to do beforehoof. Waiting on lines, waiting for mail, waiting for food—waiting was never fun, no matter where you had to do it or what you were waiting for. Waiting for the Royal Guards to show up so you could go on an adventure to find the source of some weird magical pulse? Not an exception to the rule. Still boring. Then, the Royal Guards had finally arrived, and Rainbow Dash had thought that her wait was over. They had to go now, right? It wouldn’t do to wait—they were on the Princess’ orders, for pony’s sake! But no. No, first they had to have a speech, and then the pegasus on the right had to crack a joke and have a giggle fit and even though it was actually pretty funny that wasn’t the point and they still weren’t moving. “Excuse me!” the pegasus shouted, wings extended, a few strands of rainbow mane stirring in the breeze. All eyes turned to Rainbow Dash. “Can we—gee, I dunno—actually do what we came here for?” “Rainbow Dash—” Rarity and Applejack started in unison, ready to rebuke the speedster for her lack of manners. “No, she’s right,” Hardwell said. The cowpony and the fashionista turned to the soldier, incredulous. “We’ve wasted enough time fooling around.” By now, Storm Runner had stopped laughing and was once again standing at attention. “Let’s move out. Fillies? In the middle, if you please.” There was some grumbling from Rainbow Dash (I’m a grown mare, I can take care of myself) and some swooning from Rarity (my, how chivalrous!) but then they were ready to go, Twilight standing beside Commander Hardwell. “Are you ready?” Hardwell rumbled, looking down at the unicorn by his side. Twilight glanced at her friends. They stood there, looking right back at her. Rarity caught Twilight’s eye, and the white unicorn nodded slightly. Applejack and Rainbow Dash both had small, confident smiles, though the pegasus’ was more like a smirk. Pinkie Pie was bouncing slightly, an uncharacteristically serious look on her face, and Fluttershy had even stopped shaking. The lavender unicorn felt a sudden swell of pride and affection. Her friends were willing to brave the unknown for her. Even though the command to go into the Everfree Forest wasn’t compulsory (Princess Celestia would never force anypony to go somewhere dangerous against their will), Applejack, Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Pinkie Pie, hay, even Fluttershy was ready to follow her into one of the most deadly places in Equestria. Honesty, Generosity, Loyalty, Laughter, Kindness—Twilight couldn’t ask for a better group of friends. “Yes,” Twilight said, turning back to the Commander. “Yes. We’re ready.” The sun was lost to view as the ten headed into the Everfree Forest. ---xOx--- Mabel hummed a tune as she padded across the log, arms outstretched to help her keep her balance. Behind her, back on the ground, Dipper gulped as he looked down towards the rushing water. “Mabel,” he enunciated carefully, “I still think it’s not a good idea to try to cross on a log. What if—what if it’s rotted, or hollow or something? You could fall, and—and—” “And what,” Mabel called back. “Get my shoes wet?” The twelve year-old boy looked at the stream, which was, indeed, only about an inch and a half deep. A frog hopped in and sat, underside touching the bottom and head above the water. “Geez, Dipper, you really need to relax.” Dipper sighed and gave himself a mental slap. Mabel was right, as much as it pained him to say. He really did need to relax. Even though they were god knows where, that didn’t justify Dipper being scared of every single little thing. Cautious, yes, but not in full-on freak out mode. So, the next thing Dipper did was climb on to the log himself. He took one step, then another, and another. Huh. Mabel made a good choice in river crossing points; the log stayed steady. The brunette was already off at the other end of the riverbank (streambank?), calling for her brother to hurry up, that slowpoke. Dipper shuffled forward another few feet, got to just before the middle of the log, and— Crack. Uh-oh. The next think Dipper knew, he was sitting in the stream, feeling the cool water pass through the seat of his pants like sand through a sieve and hearing Mabel’s hysterical laughing. The two halves of the log sat on either side of him, slowly turning as the slow current tugged on the ends. The messy-haired boy scowled, pushing himself up as the water flooded his shoes. Dipper squished back to shore, grumbling all the way. Stupid lousy logs. Mabel was still laughing as Dipper reached her. “Hey, hey Dipper! Guess what? I guess you need to learn to go with the flow!” The preteen girl fell into a new round of laughter as her twin shook himself, trying to dry his soaked clothing. “Shut up,” Dipper said as they kept walking. “Hey Dipper, is your favorite season fall?” “Shut up,” Dipper suggested. “Y’know, I wood have helped you, but I was too far away!” “Shut up shut up shut up.” Five minutes and too many wood and water-themed puns to count later, the twins had gotten out of sight of the river. The trees were thicker here; only a small amount of light filtered down between the leaves. Shadows moved silently across the ground, forming strange shapes, breaking apart and finding new partners to continue their mysterious dance. It really was beautiful, Dipper thought. Unlike the forests on the Oregonian mountains, these felt. . . clean. The difference between a nature preserve and the deep rainforest. The boy breathed in deeply. Dipper could get used to this—the peace, the feeling of calm, the holy crap what was that noise. Bothe of the twins froze. The cracking sound had come from behind them. Slowly, carefully, dreading what he might find, Dipper turned around. There, standing nine feet tall, acid dripping from massive fangs, muscles rippling and eyes glowing, was. . .nothing. That was just his imagination. The messy-haired boy relaxed and adjusted his hat—all there was were a few dead bushes, wood gnarled and twisted. Dipper breathed a sigh of relief. Of course there wasn’t a monster, even though he complained a lot he wasn’t actually that unlucky— And then the bushes opened glowing green eyes and started growling, so so much for that. Dipper said something he had once gotten punished for saying and grabbed Mabel’s wrist. She was staring wide-eyed at the living bushes as they twisted themselves into facsimiles of wolves. “Mabel,” Dipper hissed, eyes locked on the beasts. “Run.” They turned and ran. As they moved, the bush-wolf things howled, a high, piercing noise that resonated in the twin’s bones. Dipper risked a look back—saw the creatures loping after them—screamed like a little girl, and kept running. ---xOx--- Twilight stopped, ears twitching. Noticing this, Hardwell made a slashing motion with his hoof. The rest of the group came to a halt. There was silence for a moment, as the assembled ponies ceased their movement. Then, in the distance, they heard what sounded like a scream, rising in volume. Twilight bit her lip. “It sounds like somepony’s coming this way,” she said, turning to the larger stallion. “Should we—” “Well, let’s go help them!” Rainbow Dash declared loudly. “I mean, it sounds like they’re in trouble!” She jumped up, wings extending—and Applejack, who was next to her, bit down on a tuft of rainbow tail and yanked the cerulean pegasus back onto the forest floor. “Applejack!” Rainbow cried, wings folding back to her sides. “Why’d you do tha—” “Because, Miss Dash,” Hardwell whispered harshly, “That may not be the best idea. We don’t know who that is, if it even is a who. It could easily be the cause of the magic pulse, and dangerous to boot. Stallions,” the earth pony ordered, “Phalanx positions.” The Royal Guards sprang into action, forming a large, even pentagon around the six mares. “Hold.” They stayed perfectly still and silent, listening to the screams. It was high pitched, and—wait, no, that’s two voices, Twilight thought. Why would there be two? The screams grew louder and louder—Hardwell and his stallions braced themselves—and two blurs shot out of the bushes, between one of the gaps in the pentagon, and one of them slammed directly into Twilight Sparkle, sending them tumbling end over end. Every pony present whipped around, looking at Twilight and the—thing—on top of her. Twilight blinked, staring directly into Dipper’s eyes. And their voices rose in unison, a wordless scream that shook all of Everfree Forest.