//------------------------------// // Chapter Twenty-Five: The Journey Back // Story: From the Outside In // by DarkParable //------------------------------// A warning before you continue from here. This chapter will be brutal in comparison with most of this story. There is going to be PAIN, a lot of pain in this chapter. That dark tag is up for a reason my dear readers, so if you were expecting this arc to end as happily as the last, let me quash those hopes now. There are two more planed chapters in this arc subsequent to this one. This particular chapter is focused entirely on Red and his journey back to Ponyville. The next will cover Twi and the doppelganger. The third and final in the arc will cover the after math of the events to follow. You have been warned, and I'm sorry for what I am going to do to these characters. Without further adieu let us begin. Red's breathing was ragged and strained, his sides heaving as he gasped for air. The Everfree was never kind to it's visitors, often doing it's best to seem maliciously aware of their presence and seeming to find a way to guide them into every conceivable danger within its dark embrace. Red's experience was much the same as any other visitor's. For five minutes after he'd left the cave he'd awoken in things had been almost peaceful, a bit too much so. It was testament to how little wood-craft the druidic pony truly had knowledge of that he failed to heed the warning signs of a silent forest. It is partially excusable however as he was already wounded and had lived most of his life in a city, his only contact with the natural world he venerated so highly was the parks and his infrequent visits to his Gran's place. Excusable, but unfortunate. He was taken unawares by the thing that had followed him out of his would-be prison. The cockatrice was upon him with nary a sound, talons and sharp beak laying into the pony with a vengeance. It's ambush was met with a startled cry that quickly turned into a loud exclamation of pain and a god deal of thrashing. Thrashing that dislodged the predator and served only to piss it off. Prey was not meant to put up such a fight when wounded. Cockatrice were normally ambush hunters of a different sort, tricking their prey into catching their eye, turning them to stone, and letting them sit for awhile before returning for an easy kill. A day or two as a statue left the victim disoriented greatly upon their release. It was this that allowed for an easy kill and an easy meal. This particular one however had opted to take a direct approach, seeing the obviously hurt pegasus as an easy kill already. Red wasn't about to let that happen though, but he was in no real shape to fight. He took the next best option. He ran, ran as fast as his battered body would allow. He'd been running for a good ten minutes now, and he could barely hold himself up any longer, his body protesting to almost every movement and his lungs seemingly filled with molten shards of glass. Of course it was when he was just about to keel over from exhaustion that he was attacked again, talons, beak and loud shrieks of his attacker hitting him in a furious whirlwind. Crying out in pain again Red went down and found himself being mauled, if that term can truly apply, by something he'd hoped never to meet. Up till now he had no clue what had hit him, now he did. He caught a face full of furious cockatrice, and an eye full while he was at it. The beast seemed to smirk slightly as its little red eyes flared a bright, madder red. Red Wyne froze for a moment, his body stiffening rapidly and a weight settling over his limbs. His face twisted into an expression of horror as he realized what was happening. he was being rendered little more than a lawn ornament. He had time to think of a single sentence before his mind went blank and time stood still for him. "Oh dear Luna, please help..." It was fortunate for him that his staff was still in contact with some part of him for no sooner had that thought crossed his mind when his plea was answered. Sure, it took a few long moments, moments in which the cockatrice was gloating over it's soon to be meal. With a blinding silver flash Luna's gift to her favored pony cleansed the curse from him, the stone covering bursting apart with explosive force and flinging his beastly attacker away with a loud startled squawk. Bleeding, battered more heavily now, and dazed Red could only lay there and clutch at his chest. his heart hammered rapidly and he was more than oblivious to his surroundings for a while. It was fortunate for him that his would be death dealer decided he was no longer worth the effort and had left in search of easier prey. Red's mind was racing as fast as his heart, consumed with thoughts of what had nearly just happened. He'd so nearly died, died what he was sure would have been a horrid death. He wasn't so sure that he'd not been dead for a few moments to be honest. He'd been so cold, so empty, so... disconnected from everything in the few seconds he'd been no more than a bit of statuary. His mind had been scattered, nothing at all left to be completely aware of anything. It was only after the fact that the various inputs from whatever had passed for senses could be felt and made any sense of. What if he had died? What would have happened to his friends? More importantly what would Twilight have felt? Never mind the fact that he'd be gone forever, as a druid he knew this was coming eventually. He'd join the great cycle like all things would, but Twilight... Her happiness and well being mattered so much more than most anything else to him. If he died he knew she'd be hurt, perhaps devastated. He wasn't sure if she cared for him quite as much as he did her, but that didn't matter. He could only focus on how it would have hurt her to lose him. Then there was the matter of that thing that had attacked him and drug him off into this thrice cursed forest. Was it still hanging around Ponyville, gathering more victims? If he'd bit the big one just then, no one would be able to warn the town... He had to pull himself together and get back, and he had to do it as soon as possible. With a groan he struggled his way to his hooves, hissing in pain as he disturbed his new injuries. His back was a mess of stinging scratches and aching puncture wounds and blood flowed freely from those, matting his fur and staining it darker than it already was. He could faintly feel a bit of damage to one of his wings, but he couldn't bring himself to look. He had more important things to do right now, namely surviving and getting back to his mare friend. With that goal to galvanize him he set off at a steady, and quite slow, limping pace in what he hoped was the vague direction of home. Twenty four hours later. A day had passed since he'd began his walk back, and he was hopelessly lost already. His injuries were more than enough to keep him from even taking a short upwards journey to see if he could get his bearings, especially the damage to his right wing. The cockatrice had done a serious number to that, and it was no wonder it had gone numb. It was cloven straight to the bone in more than a few places, a great number of his primaries ripped or broken beyond salvage. It would take a bloody miracle for him to ever fly again if he got out of here. As it was he'd done what he could to try and prevent it from getting worse. He'd stumbled, quite literally, into a patch of blood moss and had packed the worst of his wounds with it. The herd served to staunch bleeding and keep the wounds closed, not to mention it offered a faint amount of pain relief, though that was more than likely his mind playing tricks on him. In any case he still staggered on, stopping every now and again to lean heavily against his staff and attempt to make heads or tails of where he was headed. It really didn't help that the forest all looked the same. Twisted trees that seemed to loom over him with a sinister air. He could almost swear he heard them whispering to him every now and again. "This way... Come and sleep beneath my branches. Let my roots take you, hold you, choke the spark from you." some would say. "Keep to the path, it leads into the maws of Umbra..." others would hiss. Seductive tones, like a lover's whispers sometimes would utter the words "Let us take you little mortal, become ours...". It was these voices and the faces that seemed to adorn many of the trees around him that made him cling tighter to both his staff and to his goal. Get back home alive. Stop that... thing... Collapse into Twilight's arms and cry himself empty in relief at seeing her again. Shaking his head sharply Red tried to tune the voices out even more and just staggered on again, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched once again... The second night, an hour after Red's collapse. He couldn't go on any more. Not without rest. His body demanded that he lay down and let it recuperate from two straight days of walking while wounded. It was an impressive feat and spoke volumes about the iron will that drove Red on. Such a thing will only take you so far however, and it had taken him as far as it could for now. He'd finally been unable to continue an hour ago. Now he lay sprawled in an inglorious heap, breathing shallowly and bleeding from a few reopened cuts. He shivered, teeth chattering softly, his back and wing feeling as if they were aflame. He was more than sure he had some kind of infection going, and it would only get worse. Luna above, what could he do? He had no medical training beyond a bit of basic herb lore. Will bark and blood moss would avail him not right now though, not if he was getting sick enough to require antibiotics, the good kind you only got in a hospital. With these thoughts dancing about in his mind and gnawing at his resolve and will to continue on despite the pain his eyes slowly drifted closed and sleep took him. His latest stalker crept closer, sniffing softly at the ground and watching the sleeping pegasus with an almost disinterested look.The beast smiled a predatory grin... It's children would have a host after all, and one large enough to feed them for days after hatching. Creeping closer on eight insectoid legs the arachne's grin grew wider. The spider-like monster was a gruesome sight. It's body was that of a rather beautiful mare, but that's where the beauty stopped. Eight spidery legs, a bulbous abdomen in place of a mare's tail. A face that way a hideous mixture of pony and spider with six black orb like eyes that twinkled with malicious glee... Slowly it leaned closer to it's chosen incubator, fangs glistening and dripping a clear venom as it opened it's mouth wide and prepared to sink it's fangs deep into Red's neck. It never got the chance. It's would-be prey jerked up suddenly, blood red eyes boring into it's own now startled orbs with a feral sort of intensity that honestly frightened the spider creature enough to send it scuttling back a few steps. The last sight it saw in life were those eyes, a predator's eyes set into the face of a prey animal as it felt the pain of an impossibly hard blow against it's skull for a split second. Red awoke some time later to find himself snuggled up to a cold corpse, his staff driven clean through it's head right up to the mid-point of the weapon. Bites covered the flesh of the beast here and there and he couldn't get the strangest of tastes out of his mouth. Needless to say he hastened to reclaim his staff and get moving again, frightened by the implications of all he'd just seen... and tasted. Third day, Red's fall and the death of a dream. It was noon now, and Red was no longer lost. At least not in the physical sense. Not too long after his flight from the clearing he'd collapsed in he'd felt some innate sense tugging him in a slightly different direction and he'd allowed it to guide him. He had nothing better for directions after all. Mentally however, Red was lost in a bramble patch of caustic thoughts and vague memories. He could still... taste... that thing on his tongue and teeth. Some part of his mind told him to seek out more, a primal part of him that relished in the fact that he'd taken a life to sustain his own. Exercised his right as an apex predator... An apex predator that he no longer was. Be that as it may, that part of him wished to feel the jarring thump of driving his staff through that thing's skull once again. Wished to watch as the light drained from those six shocked, and delightfully fearful, eyes. The other part of his mind hadn't changed it's goals in the least. Get to Twilight. At the moment however, it was that feral side that was winning as it were. Oh his thoughts were clear enough, but he could feel his pain and exhaustion muted senses sharpening, his ears swiveling to track the sounds of small prey, worthy of a quick snack, in the bushes. He could smell the faint scent of fear and musk off of those animals as well, and it made him salivate. This disgusted him on some level, meat wasn't necessary... So why did he crave it now? Why did he want so strongly to pounce upon some small rabbit or another and tear into it with his teeth? Eat it raw and squirming. To taste the blood on his fan-... Wait, he didn't have fangs. Didn't even have canine teeth any more, he only had the flat grinding teeth of a herbivore... Right? He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth and blinked in surprise at what he found... Canines, canines sharp enough to have cut his tongue on. That stopped him short and drew a gasp from him. He ran his tongue over his teeth once more and found nothing out of the ordinary... He'd have dismissed the feeling of a hunter's teeth as a fever induced hallucination, save for the taste of blood slowly spreading over his tongue from the small cut on it... The same cut he'd gotten off that... imagined fang? Now he was just plain scared... Shaking his head vigorously he resumed walking, plodding along mechanically as he tried to school his addled mind to stillness. He'd not gone five steps before the earth suddenly was gone from beneath his hooves. With a startled scream he plunged headlong down a pit and landed in a heap with a couple resounding cracks. Still screaming, this time in pain, he looked down at his for leg and mutilated wing. His leg was bent at an unnatural angle, clearly broken... It was the wing however that had him screaming all the louder. The weakened appendage lay on the ground, only attached to him by a few stubborn bits of flesh, the bone snapped cleanly at the base. He'd landed on it heavily it seemed. Slowly darkness consumed his vision as he succumbed to the pain and knew no more... His cries had drawn attention however, thankfully of the friendly sort. A hooded figure picked it's way closer to the crumpled body not five minutes later. "Oh dear, oh dear.... What have we here..." the figure muttered softly, clearly female by the voice. She carefully looked the poor boy over and tutted softly to herself. "This broken wing, I cannot mend... Seems this one's flight has met it's end. Still though to life he does cling. Perhaps an end to pain I can bring..." Carefully, oh so carefully the figure gathered up the fallen and broken body of Red, his staff, and severed wing before calmly walking away, seemingly unbothered by her burden.