My hooves skidded against the slick hardwood floors as I ran around the corner then stopped. My heart sank as I beheld what was in front of me.
A split. Great.
Both halls were identical to the one I had been following: Polished hardwood floors, a tidy little trim along the bottom of the rose red walls, and a high white ceiling. Lamps were hung in a fairly regular pattern, and every once in awhile a painting broke the monotony. They offered no clues as to who ran this estate; they were usually of a simple landscape, featuring mountains or cliffs or an open plain. Boring. I had been closely observing my surroundings since I had entered here. Well, as close as I could observe while running at a breakneck pace. My wife was somewhere in here, being held captive by some mad pony, and though I didn't know who or why, I was here to get her back.
Let's just say that I wasn't in a negotiating mood.
I growled quietly as I studied the paths before me. They were identical, and both split off at a perfect forty-five degree angle. They both led perfectly straight for a ways, then went down, presumably a staircase. Maybe a pit of death. Hell, I don't know. Whoever had taken my wife was certainly a sadistic bastard, so I wouldn't rule anything out.
I squinted at the floor, trying to find a hoofprint, a smudge, any indication that a pony had passed this way previously. Predictably, there was nothing. I growled again, and nervously shifted my weight back and forth on my front hooves. This was wasting precious time. My wife, my beautiful wife, was down there somewhere, in the bowls of this miserable mansion. Who knows what grievous torture was being enacted on her? She was pretty tough, but some things no pony should have to endure.
I snarled and pawed at the floor with a hoof, eyes flicking back and forth between the passages. I had to make a decision soon, I was wasting time. I hesitated, though. What if I chose the wrong path? Best case scenario, I would waste a lot of precious time. Worst case scenario, I would trip some trip and fall to my gruesome death, or maybe get eaten alive by spiders. Scenes of my decaying body raced through my mind, followed by sights of my wife, bleeding and crying for a savior.
I know, I'm incredibly morbid. Sometimes I wonder if I'm sane, but I digress.
"Princesses damn this infernal place!"
My shout echoed down the apathetic halls, fading into the darkness, just as I could feel my hope doing. My irritation had boiled over into quiet rage as I stared at this deceptively simple but infinitely irritating puzzle. I closed my eyes and tried to think of something, anything, that could potentially give me a clue. I had studied a decent bit of psychology in my spare time, and it was time to see if that paid off. Most ponies tend be asymmetrically balanced, tending to use one hoof more than the other. They often will tend to use that direction subconsciously, or just as often the opposite direction. If presented with a left or right option, it has been proven that a pony will choose one over the other the majority of the time. I tried to think if I had gone down more leftward or right leading passages. After I failed to figure that out, I compromised and reached out, bucking the closest wall in fierce agitation. The lantern hanging above rattled and swung around, but didn't fall. I glared at it for a moment, then turned back to the choice in front of me. I wished I had something flat, like a coin, to flip and make this decision for me. I know it sounds silly, to potentially leave the fate of my dear wife to something like a coin toss, but I was running out of options.
I narrowed my eyes, and prepared to force myself to take a step forward. I had a fifty percent chance of making the right decision. I wanted to walk forward, but my hooves refused to move. I glared at them now. I knew what glued them in place. Fifty percent was not a passing grade, and before now I refused to place anything on a bet that was any less sure than a sixty percent chance of success. It had done me well in life, until now. I was going to have to accept the fact I had just as good of a chance of making the wrong decision as the right one, and live with it.
No matter what happens...
My ears flicked as I heard a new noise. It was faint, but in the caustic silence that seemed to rule this mansion, it was an earthquake. It sounded like hoofsteps. As I listened, they seemed to come closer. They were fast paced, and irregular, sliding around on the smooth floors, much like I had done. I shuffled my hooves in agitation. I had no idea who was coming, but there was a chance I did have pursuers. I had seen nopony since leaving Ponyville early this morning, but that doesn't mean they hadn't seen me. A place like this was sure to have some sort of security. I listened some more. It was definitely just one pony, and in a hurry. I was a fairly competent unicorn, and had always tested somewhat above normal in magical testing, as well as taking a few combat classes in my more active youth. I was fairly confident in my ability to handle one attacker, or at least hold delay them enough to run away.
On the other hoof, what if they were friendly? Maybe they knew something I didn't and was on their way to help me. However, I knew the chances of that were far slimmer than it being somepony after me. I had to consider everything in this kind of situation.
The hoofsteps were coming closer. Now I could hear them skidding and sliding around the corners I had negotiated just a few minutes ago. Should I run, or stay? If they were unfriendly, maybe I could pull some of the ceiling down on them or something, trapping them and trying to interrogate them. Or I could just choose a passage and run.
Should I go left, right, or wait and face my pursuer?