//------------------------------//
// Issue 2: The Wild Lands 
// Story: The Mare With No Name 
// by GC13 
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The dead branch scraped through the dirt and tasted bitter in Tilia's mouth. She had been biting onto the bark for so long that her jaw was starting to ache. Only a little bit further to the campsite, she reminded herself. Just a little while longer...

It wasn't how heavy the branch was that made it tiring—at least it wasn't just how heavy it was: it was the way she had to turn her head. With every step she took she had to use her teeth and neck to pull the dead weight along with her. When she heard the stranger's hoofsteps behind her, and the gentle crackle of the fire she had made, she was relieved.

She carried the branch the last few feet towards the pit that the stranger had scraped out for the fire. When she opened her mouth, setting the firewood down, she couldn't help but stick her tongue out briefly. It was as if she was expelling the taste of tree bark from her mouth.

"Do you think this will be enough?" Tilia asked the stranger.

The mare turned and looked the wood over with the same dispassionate expression she had worn since she arrived in Lemon Grove and during their three days on the road together.

"That should be enough," she said. She sat herself down in front of the fire but still looked up at her companion. "Thank you, Tilia."

"Oh, I'm happy to help." Tilia smiled broadly at the stranger, then turned back to the wood she had brought in. The stranger had built a small fire, just enough to give them a bit of warmth and light as they prepared for sleep, but it still needed to be fed.

Stepping onto it with her hoof, Tilia broke a skinnier branch off of the main piece. She grabbed it with both of her forehooves and pulled the ends down until the dry wood snapped—like a twig, she couldn't stop herself from thinking with a grin. Idly, she threw the wood onto the fire, then trotted to the wagon.

Leaning in, she grabbed a sack in her teeth then turned back towards the fire. Stepping quickly, and with a spring in her step, she joined the stranger at the fire.

"Are you ready to eat?" she asked after she set the bag down. When the mare nodded her assent, Tilia peered into the bag, looking at the sunflowers she had picked along the road during the day's travel. The big, meaty flowers would be quite the treat, and there were enough for dinner and breakfast.

Tilia laid the bag onto its side between herself and the stranger, propping it open so its contents were easily accessible. Eyes wide, and smile wider, she looked to her traveling companion and waited.

The mare looked at Tilia briefly and smiled slightly. She reached towards the bag and took the nearest flower then placed it into her mouth. As the stranger calmly chewed her food, Tilia reached over and took her first morsel.

It was even better than she had hoped it would be. The few daisies she had picked the previous day had been good, and the posies the day before that weren't bad either, but the sunflowers were delicious. She couldn't help herself: she quickly ground the flower into a paste in her mouth and swallowed, then reached for another before the stranger had even finished her own.

"Oh, these are great, aren't they?" Tilia asked before throwing the flower into her mouth. The stranger finished chewing, then swallowed.

"Yes," she agreed. "And far better than grass." She smiled, then reached for her second flower. "A very good choice."

The two sat together for a while, feasting on the sunflowers. They made their way through about two thirds of the bag, but eventually their appetites realized that they were no match for the mass of food that Tilia had collected that day.

Content, Tilia sat in front of the fire. Some time during their meal, the sun had gone down and the moon had risen to take its place. Though the fire was weakening, it was still able to cast long shadows on the trees behind the two ponies.

As the stranger stood up, Tilia pondered to herself. "I don't think I've seen so many flowers since I was a little foal," she said.

"Oh?" the stranger asked. She stepped gingerly behind Tilia, to where the filly had left the firewood. 

"Yeah," Tilia said. "It must have been years ago: it wasn't long after Discord showed up."

The mare briefly turned towards Tilia but quickly looked back to what she was doing. She lifted her hoof up, then brought it crashing down onto the thickest part of the branch. The force was enough to shatter it where she hit, and she threw the resulting piece into the fire. After it, she also tossed in a collection of skinny twigs from the opposite end to help rekindle the flame.

"It was so beautiful," Tilia said as the stranger walked back to her place. "Everypony woke up, and what did they see when they looked out their windows?" She beamed an elated smile. "Flowers," she said. "Flowers everywhere." She turned to the stranger, who was just sitting down, grinning from ear to ear. "Not a bit of grass to be found," she said. "Each and every blade of it had been turned into some kind a flower or another."

Tilia turned back to the fire, remembering that day. The family farm grew mostly lemons, but her bedroom window overlooked the family's hay patch. The grass had been really long, almost ready to be harvested, and every blade of it had turned into a sunflower. Discord wasn't one for sameness, Tilia guessed, because since each flower was the same type they were all different shades of all of the colors. Reds, oranges, blues... Even a purple that matched the shade of her eyes perfectly.

"After waking my mother and father, I ran into town," she continued. "I guess I couldn't understand why they weren't excited, so I wanted to tell somepony who wanted to jump for joy like I did."

When she had reached town, there was certainly plenty of excitement about the flowers. Her school friends had been dancing in the streets, and it seemed to be all that the grown ponies could talk about. Still, things didn't stay great for long. Eventually, somepony would get hungry...

"Oh, the town looked so beautiful," she said, smiling. "But the flowers were magic: anypony who ate one started acting like they were a bee." She chuckled, remembering the sight. "Ponies running around trying to collect pollen on their muzzles, shaking their rumps at each other. Can you believe that my friend tried to sting me with her tail?" She chuckled again, then sighed. "We all had a good laugh about that later."

Tilia sat back, grinning. It had all been so long ago, but she could never forget how gorgeous everything had looked. Even though things had gotten so hectic that day, she had still been somewhat disappointed when she woke up the next morning and everything was back to normal. Her parents had seemed relieved, though.

Back in the present, the stranger sat next to Tilia. She had listened attentively to her story, but now her eyes were looking down at the ground Tilia was sitting on. For a little while, the crackle of the fire was the only sound in the camp site.

"I'm glad that you were so young when it happened," the stranger finally said. There was a grim tone to her voice. She turned away from Tilia, instead looking into the fire. "Discord's games were always far more distressing to those who were older, and had grown used to the world having some order to it."

The awareness hit Tilia suddenly. Even before ponies had started acting strangely, none of the grownups seemed happy about the sudden change. "I-" she stammered. "I never thought about it like that. My parents never really talked much about what things were like before, and I was just a very young foal when Discord came."

The fire danced sluggishly as silence filled the space between the two ponies. As it consumed more of its fuel, the fire's color turned to a darker red and its light dimmed. Even just at the edge of their small encampment, Tilia could barely see the difference between where the fire's light was reaching and where it wasn't.

Putting a smile back on to her face, Tilia turned back to the stranger. The mare was still staring into the fire, though, as if she were contemplating something. The red flames reflected off of her blue eyes, the only time Tilia thought she'd ever see a fire in the ever-stoic mare's eyes, and her brows were slightly furrowed.

"We should get some rest," the stranger finally said. She stood and looked down to Tilia. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, and we should get an early start."

"Oh," Tilia said. "Alright." As the stranger covered the fire with dirt, Tilia reluctantly walked to the patch of cleared ground where she would spend the night.

She was suddenly aware of how tired she was. Farm work wasn't easy, but walking for most of the day wasn't either. Setting herself on the ground and resting her chin on her forelegs, Tilia drifted to sleep as she resolved to herself to ask the stranger how she was able to pull the cart all day.





The morning had come and gone quickly. The remaining sunflowers had made for a hearty breakfast, but they had only kept Tilia energized for so long under the brisk pace the stranger was keeping. The day was already half gone, and the stranger had not so much as slowed down, let alone stopped for a break.

Beside her, Tilia managed to keep pace. Her legs ached, and her stomach growled, but she wasn't about to ask the stranger to slow down for her.

Hills dominated the terrain, making it hard to see very far ahead on the narrow path they were following. Luscious, green grass covered the ground, and Tilia's mouth watered at the thought of having something to eat. If she stopped, though, she was afraid she wouldn't be able to get going again.

Tilia had long since given up on counting how many hills the path took them over. Instead, she gritted her teeth and forced her way up the path, fighting gravity the entire way. Each step was a battle when fighting her way up the incline, and her sore legs shouted at her in protest.

Reaching the top was always its own reward, though. On those last few steps, she could finally see over the peak. Her eyes barely poked over at first, and all she could see was the next hill she would have to climb. But the next step revealed a hint of what was to come. Maybe the top of one of the scattered trees would come into view, or she could see a hint of one of the caves dug into the side of the hill.

By the time her hooves rested at the peak of the hill, though, she could see everything. An entire valley lay before her: grass, trees, maybe a stream. Off in the distance, beyond the hillscape, she could see the canopy of a forest painting the horizon a dark green.

The entire trip down the slope, gravity rewarded her for meeting the challenge by helping her out. Their burdens lessened, her legs sighed with relief and eagerly accepted the reprieve. She could then spend the next few minutes getting to know the new valley she had walked into, before it was time to climb the next hill.

During the whole ordeal, the stranger kept hammering away at the ground with the same brisk pace. If she slowed down at all when climbing the slopes, Tilia swore it was only for her benefit: the stranger betrayed no discomfort, no matter how long the trail wore on for.

Rather than take in the natural splendor, the stranger's gaze seemed much more focused. Her eyes would go from feature to feature, passing over the smaller trees relatively quickly and the big trees and caves more slowly. By the time they were down the slope and on level ground again, she had finished her sweep and was focused entirely on the path ahead.

Tilia's legs groaned as she forced them to climb yet another hill. Just a few steps further... She could see the peak of the hill coming up, just a few feet above her head. One more hill. She promised herself, for the fifth or sixth time, that she only had one more hill to climb.

She made one step, then another. Finally, on the third step, her eyes reached the peak. She could see the next hill straight ahead, and she knew that the easy descent of the downward slope was just a few more steps away.

The hill wasn't the only thing she could see, though. Dark clouds floated in a gray sky, stark contrasting with the bright green of the grass on the hilltop. Tilia looked straight up and saw more of the same gray sky, though the clouds had not reached them yet.

Stuck out in the wild lands, far from any pony settlement, during a rain storm. It would certainly be a heavy one: the pegasi kept the towns clear of rain, and they only diverted some of the clouds to the farms. All of the rain clouds that the farms didn't need would get sent out into the wild lands, so the storms out there tended to be heavy and long.

Heavy, long, and right in their path.

Completely unfazed, the stranger kept walking without even slightly slowing her pace. Dutifully, Tilia continued alongside her.

The rain clouds finally reached them as they arrived at the middle point of the valley. A wall of water poured out of the sky, sweeping towards the two ponies until it overtook them.

Tilia hadn't noticed the chill in the air as the storm had approached, but the drops of rain felt like ice water as they struck her and worked their way into her fur. Before long, she was completely soaked.

At first it was something of a relief. The day had been warm, and the cool of the rain felt soothing to her sore legs. By the time she was halfway up the next hill, though, her legs were crying out with the same pain they had been before. The only difference was that in addition to an ache in her legs, Tilia was cold and wet as well.

When she finally reached the peak of the hill, the new valley didn't have the same majesty as it might have had when brightly lit by the sun. Sure, the green grass was still there, as were the trees. There was another stream they would have to cross, though its cool water wouldn't be the much-anticipated relief for her throbbing hooves that it would have been before.

What had been added to the scene was the never-ending gray sheet that was pouring from the sky. It muted the color of everything, and drowned out the natural sounds of they valley with the never-ending roar of the rain. Even if the birds hadn't taken shelter, there would be no way that Tilia could hear them over the sound. Not only did she hear the rain savagely striking the grass, but it pattered as it hit then slid off of the stranger's cloak, plinked as it struck the cart, and plupped as it smacked her sodden fur.

It felt like each rain drop was adding to the burden she was carrying, forcing her legs to work harder as she struggled onwards. She knew that it wasn't true, though: in actuality, her coat was actually saturated with water and couldn't take on anymore.

That was hardly any comfort. Each drop of rain that struck her coat brought new, cold water to replace the water that had already been warmed by her body heat. Every rain drop took away a little bit more of her warmth, and over time Tilia started to breathe more and more heavily as she started to shiver and her strength was sapped.

It was the third or fourth peak since the storm had started. Or had it been the fifth? Tilia suddenly realized that she had lost count. All she could focus on was putting one wobbling hoof in front of the other.

The march through the rain carried on, hills came and went, and the downpour refused to relent. Everything ran together in Tilia's mind until, in a daze, she stumbled into the stranger's leg as the mare extended it across her chest. Snapped back to reality, at least somewhat, she opened her eyes fully for the first time in quite a while.

Her mind was far away, and her voice was just as distant when she spoke. "What?" she managed to ask.

"Follow me," the stranger said. "We're going off the path a little."

With that, the stranger started walking again. She veered right, onto the grass, and Tilia followed. Her teeth chattered, her legs shook, and the wet grass tested her tenuous balance. Again, she focused on putting one hoof in front of the other.

The stranger's pace was much easier to match, though. No longer driving forward, she stepped slowly and carefully. Her eyes were fixed firmly ahead, at the entrance to another cave. This one was dug straight into the hill, and looked quite large. The opening would easily accommodate the two ponies and the cart, and provide shelter from the rain.

Tilia's stomach churned upon the sudden realization, and she hung her head: the stranger had noticed her shivering. They were going to stop because of her. Instead of helping the stranger, she was slowing her down.

The truth was, though, that Tilia was relieved. She couldn't stop shivering, and she had been so cold for so long that even a patch of dry dirt to curl up in seemed inviting.

She clenched her jaw shut, finally stopping the chattering of her teeth. The cave entrance was just a short distance away, and could finally make out some details through the pouring rain. It was surprisingly regular in shape, neatly rounded at the edges, much like most of the other caves in the area. No supports held the ceiling up, and Tilia briefly worried that the whole cave might collapse at any moment. She was far too exhausted to be picky about her shelter, however.

Her first hoofstep into the cave immediately filled her with dread. The air inside was cold, enough to keep her shivering despite being out of the rain, but something more magical hung in it as well.

A sense of death pervaded the entire tunnel complex, which suddenly seemed extraordinarily large. It wasn't the smell, old earth with the smallest hint of dampness, but she felt it in her nose all the same: the must of decay. Likewise, though all she could feel under her hoof was tightly compacted dirt, she still sensed blood on the ground as she walked. Nervously, she pulled a hoof up and examined the bottom, but saw nothing more than a tiny bit of mud caked onto it.

The chill in the air curled around her body, uninvited, and quickly wormed its way into her fur. A sharp tingle ran up her spine as the cold reached her core. She closed her eyes and clamped her jaw shut again as her teeth resumed their chattering, enduring the air's icy onslaught.

Her teeth finally stopped their jumping as the tingle subsided, and Tilia let out a deep breath of relief. She opened her eyes, only to find herself face to face with the ghostly image of a disembodied talon, opened and grabbing at her face.

Instinctively, she jumped backwards. Her heart began to race, and she prepared to run as quickly as her aching legs could carry her.

As quickly as it had appeared, though, the talon dissipated into a nebulous cloud of water vapor—her own breath. Tilia's head quickly turned to the stranger, who was stepping out of the cart's harness just a few feet away.

If there was any danger, Tilia assured herself, the stranger would be the first to know. Nervously, Tilia forced a smile on to her face. There was nothing to worry about; she was just cold.

Still, Tilia could understand why the cave would unnerve her. It was pitch black inside, and the storm clouds outside let precious little light into the cave mouth. Beyond maybe ten feet in, Tilia couldn't see anything. Her own shadow was difficult to see, due to how dark the floor was.

Even over the torrential downpour outside, Tilia could hear the sound of water dripping from her tail, chin, and legs onto the dirt floor. Each massive drop hit the floor like a boulder, kicking up dust and leaving an enormous crater that nested in the ground like a new lake.

The tremors of her shivering caused water drops to fall off of her quickly, with several plummeting to the ground at any given time. It wasn't quick enough, though. Too cold and wet to worry about decorum, Tilia shook the water off as best as she could. She bounced her head up and down, swayed her tail behind herself, and even slammed her forehooves into the ground a few times to get some stubborn drops off of her flank.

With great effort, she had mostly succeeded. Her fur was still wet and matted, but it was no longer saturated with water. She could already feel the cold air creeping under her coat, brushing up against her skin. It was giving her another chill, but it was also slowly drying out her fur.

Once she saw that Tilia was finished shaking, the stranger finally removed her cloak. She set it onto the cart, and pointed her body deeper into the cave. After standing silently for a moment, she turned her head back to Tilia.

"Try to get warm," she instructed her. "I won't be long."

Her teeth chattering again, Tilia nodded her head and curled up on the ground. While the stranger walked deeper into the cave, quickly disappearing from sight, Tilia tucked her legs tightly against her chest. Her legs were cold, like the rest of her, but she could feel them warming.

For a while, she enjoyed the break. Gradually, her shivering stopped and she finally stopped feeling so chilled. She turned her body so she could look outside, where the rain continued to come down. Tucked snugly inside the cave, however, Tilia was finally dry.

Eventually, however, the sense of dread she had felt upon entering the cave came creeping back. Even with her dry fur keeping the cave's air off of her skin, Tilia still felt that same uncomfortable tingle creep back up her spine. She found herself looking over her shoulder more and more often, even though the darkness stood not even five feet behind her. If anything, it was slowly inching towards her: looking back again, Tilia could swear that she could see even less of the cave than she could before.

Her chest rose and fell quickly as she took rapid, shallow breaths. Slowly, with stiff and aching legs, she rose to her hooves. She turned and faced the darkness, stepping backwards nervously. Her mouth opened, like she wanted to call out to the stranger, but the words got caught in her throat.

The panic was rising in Tilia, and her wild eyes darted from one side of the cave to another looking for whatever it was she sensed was after her. When she exhaled a breath of mist, like on a snowy winter day, she gasped and her eyes grew wider: she remembered the talon from when she first entered the cave.

This time, though, the mist was unformed. She could sense life in it, however, and saw it thrash in its rage at her as she backed away from it. Too scared to breathe, she held her breath as the mist inched towards her. She didn't dare breathe in, even as her lungs begged her for air.

When she could endure no longer, she flung her mouth open and filled her lungs with the most air they had ever taken in at once. Just like that the mist was gone, destroyed as she inhaled. Nervously, Tilia held her breath again. She could feel it, whatever it was, waiting.

Tilia couldn't hold out forever. Again, the air burst from her burning lungs and immediately turned into an angry, amorphous mist. Her lungs still burned, though. Partly because of her thirst for air, and partly out of sheer panic, she breathed in and out quickly, unable to help herself.

Each breath she exhaled would struggle to take some form or another. Tilia could feel their hatred, though she couldn't make sense of the shapes they were trying to take. Maybe she didn't have to: the chaotic forms meant "danger" to her, and each one terrified her more than the last.

Again, the sensation that something was behind her seized Tilia by the mane. Clumsily, on wobbling legs, she swung her body around only to come face to face with the empty outside. The rain was still pouring, and its dull roar came back to her ears as she could feel the tension leave her body and her breathing return to normal.

Feeling calm again, she lay back down on the floor. She needed more rest, not a senseless panic attack. Tranquil, she laid her head on her forelegs. The warmth of her cheek on her leg felt nice, and it was good to finally rest her head.

Hearing the sound of hoofsteps behind her, Tilia's head quickly shot up and spun back. Looking into the empty abyss of the dark cave behind her, she could see nothing. Nervous, her heart rate quickened again.

When she heard the stranger's voice, she exhaled in relief.

"Tilia, are you alright?" the mare asked.

"Yeah," Tilia replied. When she heard the stranger start fiddling with the cart, she turned her body around and saw her stepping back into the harness of the cart. Tilia narrowed her eyes. "Was that..." she started, holding her mouth open in disbelief. "Were you...?"

"Yes," the mare answered simply. "But don't be afraid: it's over now." She nodded to Tilia as she tucked the harness snugly against her chest. "Again," she said. "I won't be long." With that she disappeared back into the cave, towing the cart behind her. 

A few minutes later, the mare's hoofsteps reached Tilia's ears again. Wordlessly, the stranger stepped out of the harness and approached her. Still tired, Tilia didn't even bother to look back.

"Tilia," the stranger said, breaking the silence. As Tilia's ears perked up, and she finally turned her head to look at the mare as she lay down beside Tilia.

"I'm proud of how well you did today."

Confused, Tilia's head angled to the side as she looked the stranger in the eye.

"I know it couldn't have been easy for you: the hills, the rain." She motioned back into the cave with her head. "But we got here in time."

The two sat together for several minutes, silently staring into the rain. Now that she was out of it, Tilia could finally appreciate its savage splendor. It demanded attention, and it wouldn't let itself be denied.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" the Tilia asked, still staring out of the cave.

Tilting her head gently to the side, the stranger continued contemplating the scene outside.

"Yes," she finally agreed with a smile. "It is."