Interim 6
The ringing in my head subsides as consciousness returns. I awake sore, dazed, and with a bad taste in my mouth, either from my nap or the dirt rolling around my tongue. Judging from the taste of iron and soil, I say it’s more the latter.
My eyes struggle to open and focus, revealing a bright, unfiltered world. I test my limbs. Legs feel in place, as does the tail. Left arm intact. So is the right, and it’s got a death grip on something. I force my head to turn over, rubbing my snout through the dirt, and I see the glint off my sword. From what I see it's in one piece. Good: it’ll make a damn useful support.
Using arm, legs, and sword, I arduously pull myself up. With dirt falling out my snout, I start smelling slightly-cooked flesh. I look over my limbs briefly. Not a scrap of my suit remains. Limbs are a bit pink, but that just means a numb pain (all over). As I get to standing straight, I notice the distant, persistent wail. It takes some effort to turn my whole body around to see where it was coming from.
In the far distance is the mountain that holds Canterlot, with thick smoke rising up from where the castle (might) have been. The bulky frames of military airships hover about the peak, and even from this far off I can make out several pegasus sorties flying between them. The sky being blue and the fact I’m able to see all this means the sun hasn’t exploded, so small comfort in that. The sound’s a city-wide alert siren, no doubt. Towns for miles will hear it, and will shortly learn what it’s about. Then the real damage begins.
They’re sifting around for survivors, making sure one in particular doesn’t get out. Subconsciously, my body forces itself to turn and limp to the cover of the nearby forest. They’ll either think I disintegrated when a body doesn't turn up, or they'll widen the search. My survival instinct isn’t banking on the former. Somepony might’ve caught sight of a flaming object flying in this direction. Plenty of curious skyward eyes in those little towns.
Only two things are clear in my head: the grip on my sword, and the need to put further distance between me and that mountain. Seems I landed by a lightly-forested edge of the Everfree, not as much trees. Walking through it is a chore, nevertheless. The greenery has a summer crisp to it, and I begin hearing birds as the siren grows more distant. Can’t say how long I’ve been stumbling like this. Nothing’s moving amid the trees and the day doesn’t seem to be moving. Like everything but me has come to a standstill.
At some point I hear an approaching roar above, and get myself to fall against a tree. My legs, worn out from burns and the walk, half-buckle from the relief of something to rest on. I take some breaths, keeping my free claw firmly on the bark to keep myself standing. I finally notice how dry my mouth is, and even worse, the burning thirst. I turn my focus upward through the leaves in defiance of it.
A V-formation of pegasi soar by overhead, each one the familiar blue blur of the Wonderbolts, with a flawless multicolor streak taking center. Of course Rainbow would be on the search. Always the one to get a job done quick, especially if it’s a national crisis. Would tear off the forest canopy if she had to. Gotta move deeper in before it comes to that.
I shove off my rest stop and resume my aimless stumble into the woods. Body is set to automatic. Mind is too muddled and wracked from the landing, or the explosion, or that... dream, whatever it was. Don’t have the capacity to deem it as a massive hallucination or something else. Head’s too busy jumbling over itself with each uneven step I take to think coherently. Only need to move further, that's important.
Eventually the thirst overrides my other pains and makes my sight waver. Body keeps going forward, though. Trees are getting thicker, more bunched together. Legs begin bumping against trunks and tripping over stuff, but onward they go. Deeper and deeper. Light begins to fade, either by the increased trees or time passing, I really don’t know. Just keep on the path. The path... what path?
Where am I going? I have no idea how far I’m in, what direction I’m heading, or even when to stop. Where is there for me to go, after what I’ve done? Is there any point to keep running? To keep moving at all? The thirst has made my mouth so dry every breath hurts, and my eyes burn from lack of moisture. Why can’t I just lie down? Not get up until... until when? Does it even matter?
Minutes, hours (I don’t know), I make it to the edge of a ravine and my body finally stops. Steady trickling sound from below, only my eyes are focused the darkening woods beyond, a blurry mesh of tangled and impenetrable foliage. Dry hot breaths fill the air, limbs a distant memory. Haze that’s been floating about in my mind sets in completely. Allow myself to drift. Drift, drift away. So tired. Can’t think. Can’t see. Nowhere, no place. Lost. Utterly lost. What good is this? Any of this? Twilight. What now, Twilight? Anyone? No answer. No point. Must stop. Stop and... shut... off...
A wobble and I'm falling head first into the chasm, cool wind against my face. Last thing I recall is a sudden cold shock, followed by weightlessness.
Soothing darkness overtakes me at last.