//------------------------------// // Seven years and eighty-one days // Story: Equestria [No Hope] // by -Arcana- //------------------------------// Sunlight fell through the forest’s canopy roof, alighting on three tents that huddled together in a small clearing. One of the tents yawned open as a tired unicorn mare crept out into the foliage. The solar rays danced on her evening blue coat, in step with the swaying leaves of the canopy. She let the sun fall onto her face, helping her wake up as best it could. It couldn't compare to a fresh cup of coffee, but these days it was the best she could do. Gingerly, for she did not want to wake the tent’s other occupant, the mare reached in and pulled out a small book and pen. The book, which was her journal, had her name inscribed on the front cover in looping letters, “Aurora Wish.” She was the only one of them who still kept the date, a force of habit from her job as the Fillydelphia timekeeper. Opening the journal, Aurora flipped through the handwritten pages until she found the most recent one which displayed a series of dates. Today was the 14th of autumn, in the year 1012 AMM. It had been seven years and eighty-one days since the ponies began turning. That’s what they called it, though they had met some who called it the infection, the cataclysm, or even just the end. Aurora looked up from her journal, just in time to see her young daughter, Radiant Hope, walk out of the tent. The filly was only seven and already looked so much like her mother, with the same evening blue coat and mint green mane. The only difference between them was the streaks of magenta mane that Hope had inherited from her father. “M-Mommy, I had that d-dream again,” Hope said with her still prevalent stutter, “The one where I’m r-running.” Aurora sighed for she knew the dream her daughter was talking about. Hope hadn’t had that dream for a few days, and it was assumed that it wouldn’t come again. Aurora set aside her journal and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. The little filly returned the hug, and the two shared a moment of mutual comforting. “Tell me about it,” Aurora finally said, wanting to share and perhaps alleviate some of her daughter’s troubles. Hope started, “Well… In the d-dream, I w-was running. I-I was running because s-something was after m-me… something s-s-scary. I t-tried to call f-for you, but you w-weren’t there Mommy… I e-even called for Daddy…,” Aurora felt a twinge of sadness at the mention of Hope’s late father, “B-but then I saw s-something in front of m-me. It was a… a statue, but n-not of anyone I knew. It m-made me feel better, and it m-made the scary thing g-go away. Then I-I woke up.” Aurora stroked her daughter’s mane in thought. It scared her to no that her daughter had such sad dreams. Hope had been born within days of the disease and had not known life before it. This dream only added to Aurora’s fears of how this world would affect Hope. Still the statue was new and Aurora took it as a sign that there was still hope for her daughter. “Don’t worry Hope. I’ll never leave you.” By this time the other had begun to rustle with the waking movements of their occupants. Two figures emerged into the clearing and greeted Aurora and Hope warmly. They were the only friends they had left in this world. Zigbar was the newer of their companions. The zebra had met them a few days after they had lost their previous travel group. The fact that he was a mute made him hard to communicate with sometimes, in fact they never new his name until he wrote it on the ground one day, but he was helpful, and smart, and knew a lot of useful medicine skills. The other was named Poinsettia, and had actually been Aurora’s neighbor back in Fillydelphia. It was by some luck that they had managed to find each other again, and though Aurora found Setti’s optimism, at times, grating, she was glad to have the earth pony friend around. Setti was also the one who believed most in the myth of Mercy, and was most concerned with making sure they traveled toward where it was rumored to be found. They had all heard about the town of Mercy (even Zigbar though he never let on if he believed in it) from different sources as they traveled. The stories weren’t always the same, but they always had similar details of a walled city where the infection had not invaded, where civilization thrived, and everyone was safe. Setti instantly latched onto these tales as a falling pony would latch onto a branch, but to Aurora such a branch seemed too gilded to grow and so she wrote off Mercy as just another myth. The group worked together to pack up the camp and move it as they did every few days. Scouting the forest, Setti said that on the other side she saw a large hill, though she had not gone over for fear of leaving the forest alone. The canopy was their only protection from being seen by one of the flying ones. Still Setti kept to her optimism about what may be on the other side. “It’s close. I can tell,” Poinsettia said out loud, but mostly to herself, “My great grandmother was a fortune teller, and I inherited some of her clairvoyance. Watch, Mercy will be just beyond that hill. I can tell.” “I’d settle for a lake to refill our canteens,” Aurora commented. She knew better than to burst Setti’s optimism with her realism, but also new better than to raise false hopes. So while she never challenged Setti’s fantasies, she also never supported them either. “Come here Hope, I’ll help you strap on your saddlebags.” Aurora brought Hope close and magically tightened the small saddlebags, making sure they wouldn’t be uncomfortable while they walked. “M-Mommy, do you b-believe in Mercy l-like Aunt S-Setti?” Hope asked in a low tone. “Well…” Aurora began, unsure how to answer without bringing her daughter down, “I’d like to.” There was a silence between them just long enough to startle Aurora when Hope broke it, “Me too…” Aurora bent down and kissed Hope at the base of the horn, bringing a smile to the filly’s face. Aurora wished she could hold that smile in her mind forever, for it gave her such comfort. The camp was all packed, and the travelers set out toward the edge of the forest. The ground was uneven with roots and moss, although Setti told them that it was nothing compared to the terrain in the Everfree which she had once visited as a botanist. Still Aurora had to stop a bit too often to help Hope over a tricky root. She offered each time to take Hope’s saddlebags, but the filly was determined to pull her own weight in the group. “Those saddlebags are probably twice your weight Hope,” Setti pointed out. “I’m n-not that skinny!” Hope defended Aurora giggled at her daughter, but was cut short by Zigbar’s urgent hoof. They had not even noticed that he stopped, but now the zebra was motioning them to be low and quiet. They obeyed and crept with him up to a small rut. Aurora motioned Hope to stay low before she and Setti peeked over the edge into the clearing ahead. The sight within caused them both to stifle gasps. It had been some time since they had run into a turned, and it was hard to believe that they had forgotten how horrible they looked. This one was standing over the body of a downed deer, its dull coat spattered with blood. Its mane and tail hung was matted with dirt and dried blood. Its face was turned away from them, attending to the deer, its kill. Zigbar was already in the clearing. He had somehow gotten a club like branch from somewhere, and held it in his teeth as he stalked behind the creature. The creature didn’t hear Zigbar’s advance as he was completely absorbed in the deer’s guts. Zigbar was inches from the turned, when he raised the stick high in the air. Aurora quickly moved to cover Hopes ears, not noticing the twig snap before it was too late. The monster stiffened and raised his head from the deer, meeting the stick as it crashed down. With one sickening thwap! The beast was down; still two more were added to make sure it remained that way. Zigbar threw the bloody club from his sight, hopping to never lay eyes on it again. Aurora didn’t realize her eyes had been closed, but opened them anyway. Setti stared blankly, and was muttering something. Hope was clinging to her almost painfully as tears streaked from her shut eye. “Setti,” Aurora tried to break her friend from her trance. “…” “Setti?” “…This won’t happen in Mercy.” “Poinsettia.” Setti startled as though from a dream, and then focused in on Aurora. “Will you take Hope around to the other side of the clearing?” Setti swallowed and nodded. Slowly she took Hope’s hoof and led her where she was meant to go. As Hope was led away, she made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a cry, looking at Aurora, her very expression pleeding to stay by her side. Aurora tried to give the most reassuring smile to her daughter, then turned and walked out of the rut and into the clearing where Zigbar sat. Zigbar appeared to be recovering from the whiplash. He sat a ways from the body, his head held by his hooves. Aurora walked towards him, and against her better judgment glanced at the turned. The face was now visible with its sunken eyes, blackened teeth, and blood soaked muzzle. Also visible was the grooved spike of a unicorn horn. Zigbar swiftness was suddenly so much more valuable as an turned unicorn would be hard to incapacitate without surprise. Zigbar rose up with Aurora’s help and stood woodenly. His eyes darted around trying to look everywhere but where the body now lay. In the end his eyes locked on the pony and seemed to lose all light. Aurora clasped the Zebra’s shoulder and tried to communicate her support as if by telepathy. Zigbar eyes met hers, and he bowed his head in gratification of the gesture. The two walked to where Poinsettia and Hope were now standing. Not much was said between the four after that. Not much was said when they reached the end of the damned forest, never to enter again. Not much was said when they reached the hill and saw that the other side was barren and alone.