Day 11:
It’s still dark out, but I had decided to keep moving during the night. It is a reasonable guess that I would have been found if I had stayed in that one spot for the entire night. Chances are he (or rather it) was out searching for me last night. My plan is to lead him as far as I can away from the cabin, then circle around back to that general area, as that is where we got lost in the first place. I don’t know much about keeping my bearings, but I figure that if I keep going straight I can make an educated guess about where my overall goal is. Shortly after I finished writing last night I finished making my way down the hill and passed by the remains of Cross. I couldn’t see him due to the intense darkness of this forest, but I could both feel his presence and smell him. Or perhaps it was the same thing. I don’t know exactly how far I am, but I wager it has been about half a mile past Cross. The night has been much warmer of late, but still cold enough that it is essential to keep moving. I wonder how large the Briar Sanctum actually is; I may have left it during the night and wouldn’t know. The plants where I am bear a remarkable similarity to those nearer to the cabin, so it is a fair bet that I have not left the Sanctum behind yet.
I took another gamble with one of the plants in order to eat, and I don’t feel any worse physically than I have previously, so I think I won this round. It was sort of funny, as I was eating my first thought was about this quaint little café back near my home that I used to hang out with Wymble and a couple of my other friends at after school. Never had any money back then, but it was still fun to go sit there and just talk. This forest doesn’t exactly have the same atmosphere to sit and talk in. Not that there is anyone left to talk to; well there is, but I really hope I don’t have the privilege to do so.
Wonderful, the clouds have come back. If it snows again, I’m as dead pony. I’m a dead pony anyway. No! Don’t think that! I still have a chance to get out of this alive, and leave Peers here to rot, him and his Windigo. I still don’t know what that means even. No secret that it is the reason why he became the way he is now though, no doubts about that. I wonder if there was any help for him and I just wasn’t able to see it. That’s it; first thing that I am going to do if I get back is to find out what this thing is, and to see what can be done. For the memory of the pony he used to be if nothing else. I will do whatever it takes to ensure that this never happens again. I won’t be haunted by the memory of three ponies. Two I guess, because I didn’t abandon Wymble; but I still feel like I let him die. I feel that I could have done more for him in the end.
Why am I writing this down? It is because I need to be able to express myself to something? I just fell down a small hole into a mess of the most gruesome looking nettles in Equestria. I really hope they weren’t deadly, just painful. I was in the middle of pulling out those spines that I am now punctured with, when I just felt the need to tell somebody what happened. Still bleeding, still in pain, still have spines sticking out of my stomach and legs, but I’m writing. Maybe I’m going crazy as well.
A sign. An actual wooden sign with words, nails and planks. We’re not the first ones here; some other pony actually was here and got out! I assume they go out, as they would have needed to go and get sign-building materials. Oh sweet Celestia, I can make it, I can make it. The sign itself reads: Outer Centre: two and a half miles from this point, straight ahead. Not the most professional sign I have ever seen, I must admit, but it tells me exactly what I needed to know: somepony has been here at some point, and I am close to being out of the Briar Sanctum. Maybe Peers won’t be able to follow me if I escape just the Sanctum. I don’t care what the Outer Centre holds; it has to be better than this. After all, somepony has been there before; how could it not be?
I’m getting tired, but there is no time to rest. Found another strange but edible plant, so I won’t die of starvation, and I’ll have something in my stomach. I have stopped next to this wonderful sign for a momentary rest. This is peculiar; somepony carved a small note on the back of the sign that I hadn’t noticed before. It reads: “The Outer Centre is mine. If you have been in the Briar Sanctum or the Inner Centre, then go away.” The sign itself is quite old, and the carving isn’t exactly new, but it looks recent enough in comparison to the sign that if somepony is living in the Outer Centre, then they are probably still there. Sorry whoever you are, I need to see another pony right now. I don’t care who it is (well…) I just need to talk and hopefully find a way out. Eat something more than these plants and what I had earlier. Why am I so tired right now? I need to keep going, no time to waste.
Any remaining daylight has come and gone. I fell asleep next to the sign, and the only light which to write this comes from the moon, which is surprisingly bright tonight. I am having to write each of these sentences in segments, as the clouds are currently parading in coats of grey and black across the sky, briefly letting a moonbeam through every once in a while. I haven’t seen any stars yet tonight, but that is no surprise. I have wasted enough time next to this sign and it is time to make up the lost time.
I swear that the forest floor is becoming progressively worse as I continue. I can’t see a thing, and I trip over every single thing that comes into my path. I am going to break a leg or two if I keep this up. To make matters worse, there have been thunderclaps in the distance. They are still pretty far off, and don’t seem to be moving quickly. I thank whatever does control the weather here for that at least. I can’t continue on in this blackness, but I need to keep warm tonight. I guess finding another hole somewhere and curling up in that will have to do. The old Peers once told me that a snow-cave could be warmer than any shelter, maybe I’ll give it a go.
Dang, every time I stop walking or writing, I swear that I keep hearing a noise like a hoof-fall just as I stop. Paranoia can keep you alive, but it can also keep you insane. The more times you look over your shoulder, the more you see.
Cath Wintergreen Amber
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The first appearance of Cath’s middle name, a defense against paranoia perhaps?