//------------------------------// // Chapter 5: What the Rain Leaves Behind // Story: All Paths Lead Home // by Mystic //------------------------------// All Paths Lead Home by Mystic Chapter 5: What the Rain Leaves Behind You can find the chapter with its original formatting here: Chapter 5 The mare is floating. It takes a moment to realise the disconnect, but there is no denying that she is floating. Through what, however, she has no idea. Around her is a darkness as black as tar. The mare attempts to regain some control of her limbs, but instead they end up flailing uselessly within the inky shadow. She tries to stabilise her breathing, attempting to remain calm. She doesn’t quite succeed. As she endeavours to rationalise what is happening to her, the mare feels her body begin to move, dragged by some unseen force toward a nameless and invisible destination. As the pony finds herself moving, she begins to hear sounds. Voices. Laughter. Whispering. Like wraiths dancing around the edge of her subconscious, the noises remain always there, but incoherent, just too far away to make them out with any clarity. “Who’s there?” the mare cries out into the darkness. The whispering increases in volume and speed, taunting, laughing and jeering at the pony. “Show yourself!” It is a weak cry, one that fades away quickly into silence. Suddenly, the darkness starts to move, twisting and coiling all around the mare, rearranging itself into… something. The mare watches as the shadow writhes and winds itself up into complex patterns that refuse to stay still. She’s not sure how she can see the darkness against a backdrop of nothing but shadow, but the mare begins to spot shapes in the void. At first there is a tree, its ebony-coloured leaves dancing lightly with an unseen wind. After that there is a heart, throbbing with a dark pulse. Next is the outline of two ponies, the larger a male, the smaller female. They approach the mare together, their eyes filled with a murky darkness that refuses to stay focused. The two ponies stop when they reach the mare, and simply stare. There is no emotion. There is no expression. “Who… who are you?” she says weakly. She doesn’t know why she said it; she knows exactly who they are. The two ponies don’t answer and continue to stand still, watching silently, their expressions unfathomable. Behind them the darkness resumes its shape-shifting, now forming the outline of the sun, burning with black fire. The dark flames roar up into the void, visible yet emitting no light. The mare shrinks away from the heat she can feel emanating from the flames of shadow. The two ponies in front of her are impossibly illuminated by the lightless sun. Suddenly, they speak. “Run,” they whisper in unison. “Run.” “What?” the mare asks, confused. “Run,” they hiss. “Now.” Behind the ponies, the sun starts to grow larger and larger, growing and burning, filling up the void with its dark fire. The heat becomes stronger and stronger, and the mare is forced to look away. The two ponies whisper urgently, “It’s burning. Everything is burning. Run.” The sun continues to expand, its surface bubbling, overflowing, a great force growing within it, trying to break out. The roar of the flames engulfs the mare’s hearing, and she feels her coat begin to singe in the darkness. Suddenly, the two ponies in front of her begin to grow panicked. “Run!” they shout. “Please run!” The mare tries to follow their instructions, but she can’t. The void isn’t giving her any traction to move. “I’m trying!” she yells, flailing helplessly in the darkness. “I’m trying!” The sun burns larger and more ferociously. Suddenly, it explodes, sending out an unstoppable wave of flames that wash over the void, engulfing everything in a deluge of destruction. The wall of fire rushes toward the mare, the shockwave sending her flying backwards. The two ponies built from shadow have not moved, and just before they are consumed, they yell out once more. “RUN!” Tears streaming down her face, the mare tries desperately to move, but cannot. She screams out in pain once as the flames reach her, and then there is nothing. Nothing moves in the irreplaceable darkness. It is a place where there is nothing at all. The mare woke, sweat dripping down her face. She tried to suck in a deep breath in an attempt to slow her pounding heart. Next to her, her form partly obscured by a filthy blanket, the filly was still sleeping peacefully on the bed, a small smile on her face. There was barely any light in the room, and the furniture was difficult to make out. The lines of the chest of drawers and the wardrobe seem to almost blur into each other, their existence unclear in the shadow. “Just a dream,” she whispered. “Oh Celestia it was just a dr-” The mare froze, her ears picking up in terror. The cry seeped its way into the room from somewhere outside. “Chaos!” Oh Celestia no. Not them. Not them. The sound was coming from a distance – roughly in the direction of the courtyard. It was followed by the jumbled yells and screams of various other ponies, as well as the ominous metal clanging that rang out jarringly into the morning air. The mare launched herself out of the bed, waking the filly in the process. She raced over and started to pack their saddlebags. They had to leave. Now. “What is it, Mama?” the filly asked tiredly. She froze when she heard the sound of fighting and her eyes went wide. “Don’t worry,” the mare said hurriedly. “They don’t know we’re here, but we have to leave now before they find us.” The filly got out of bed and helped her mother pack up their meagre belongings. The food that they had found the night before proved to be harder to pack than the mare anticipated. Outside the cries and shouts grew louder, coming closer and closer to the house. As soon as they were done, the two ponies sprinted down the stairs and through the hallway to the front door. Reaching the exit, the mare skidded to a halt, suddenly much more cautious. She turned to the filly and rose a hoof up to cover her lips. The filly nodded, shaking slightly as she did. Slowly, the two ponies exited the house and stepped out into the alleyway, casting furtive glances to see whether or not they were alone. Down on the street the yelling was louder, and so was the sickening sound of metal hitting metal - or flesh - that resonated within the air. The mare could always tell when a cry was to be a pony’s last. Cursing the dead end on their right, the two ponies headed left out onto the road, making sure to keep as quiet as they could. Metallic shrieks and cries echoed loudly down the street from the courtyard. The mare watched as a mass of ponies tore into each other, using their hooves, weapons or magic. Screams punctured the air as one by one more limp bodies hit the ground, refusing to get up. The mare could clearly see that there were two sides; one group looked like bandits, the other the Discord cult. The members of the cult appeared to be losing and badly. Already, the ground was littered with the dead. The mare and the filly had just begun to trot quickly in the other direction, trying to stay unnoticed in the shadows, when a cry rose out above all of the intangible ones. “Hey! You!” The mare turned, a spike of ice running the length of her spine. Standing just inside the street and a little way away from the fighting was a Discord pony, a wound across his face and side, coating him in his own blood. He was levitating an axe next to him, its surface dripping and glistening within the magic. “Get th-” the cult member began to yell before he was struck in the side by a spear flung by magic, the force of the blow knocking him onto the ground where he refused to get up, the spear quivering slightly in his side. The moment broken, the mare started to run, the filly close behind her. She just had to get away. No matter what, they just had to get away. Fortunately, nopony else saw them, too caught up in the cruel dance of death to notice a mother and her child flee the violence, heads held low to the ground in fear. As the mare and the filly fled, they became aware of just how widespread the violence was. Small fights had broken up all over the city, seemingly overnight. The mare had absolutely no idea where they had all come from. The city had been empty the day before. Wherever they went, though, the Discord cults always seemed to be losing, their dead being the most numerous. The ponies ran further and further away from the city centre and deeper and deeper into the suburbs. Here there wasn’t any fighting, the sounds of death only just reaching the mare’s ears, carried faintly by the soft breeze that was moving over the land, heading south. Behind them, several pillars of smoke coiled their way up into the sky, soon lost in amongst the blanket of grey clouds. The large number of smoke towers and their widespread range showed the mare just how many groups were fighting. Literally the whole city was up in arms, none of whom had been present the day before, or at least, as far as the mare could have told. The two ponies pushed further into the suburbs, leaving the death of the city behind them. Here there was only decay, barely anypony having walked these streets since the end. As the day wore on, the Celestian style towers slowly transformed into individual houses, and the streets became wider. In the distance, the mare was certain she could see the rolling hills of the Manehatten plains. Another few plumes of smoke joined the rest back in the city centre. The mare could swear she could even see one of the sky-scrapers on fire, the small, bright flames dancing out of the destroyed tower, releasing huge amounts of ash into the air. The mare was surprised there was anything left to burn in those buildings. At about mid-afternoon, the travellers reached the furthest outskirts of the city, the countryside definitely visible beyond the organised decay of the suburbs. Here the buildings looked like they had suffered serious earthquake damage, as many had collapsed roofs or walls. A few were gone all together, remaining just as piles of rubble in a small plot of land. “We’re going south again, aren’t we, Mama?” the small pony asked as they walked down the abandoned streets. “Yes, we are,” the mare confirmed. “Are we still… are we still going home?” “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t we?” “Oh. I don’t know…” The filly trailed off, letting the conversation fall by the ashen gutters. They were leaving the city behind them now, and the open fields and gently rolling hills of the Manehatten plains again disappeared in front of them. The mare stood on the crest of one of the first hills and stared out into the ashen landscape, déjà vu hitting her from all sides. “I know this place,” she muttered to herself. “What, Mama?” the filly asked. “I… I used to live near here.” The filly looked at her mother, confusion clear in her expression. “You used to live near here? But I thought you said your home was on a mountain?” “Yes… that’s my home. This is where I used to live before I lived there. Back when I was only a baby.” “So… is that your home too?” “No,” the mare explained. “Or maybe it was one day, but not anymore.” “You can change your home like that?” “Yes you can,” the mare replied. “Home is wherever you call it.” “Oh…” the filly said. “We’re going to go there now, aren’t we?” “I just want to look,” the mare said softly, not quite meeting her daughter’s gaze. “Ok then. We can go and look and your old home.” The small pony said the words firmly, nodding her head once. The mare smiled and began to walk down the barren hill, the next one calling her forward. As the afternoon wore on, the mare struck out a path that headed southeast. It was a small detour, but one that she was comfortable in making. She wanted to see what had become of the house where she was born. Her curiosity had been piqued. It seemed almost oddly prophetic, to visit her old home, but in a way that filled the mare with a sense of dread. The land stayed consistent for the rest of the day, the monotonous barren hills with barely a dead tree on them stretching out for almost as far as they could see. However, in the distance, the mare noticed the ground breaking up into sharper rises, coloured by the familiar smudges of dead trees. She knew her house lay in that direction, on the outskirts of a small hamlet along one of the trading roads. As dusk began to fall, the mare and the filly set up camp in one of the steeper hills, using one of the few trees to dot the landscape as shelter. It wasn’t much – in fact it was more of a gesture than anything else, but it had to do.  A few small stones sat about, lodged deep within the blanket of ash. After a dinner that comprised of sharing a tin of beans as well as a mouthful of water each, the two ponies settled down for the night. The mare refused to have a light in a shelter that was so open, especially since she could still see the burning Manehatten skyline. The sky-scraper she had seen ablaze earlier was now literally engulfed in fire. The gigantic tower was now a pillar of flames, visible for miles and miles - especially in the pitch-black that was the Equestrian night. The filly curled up into her familiar ball, facing away from the burning sky, and fell quickly asleep. The mare stayed awake a lot longer, unable to look away from the burning tower. The mare cannot begin to contain her excitement. She is literally bouncing up and down on the spot, and the small basket hanging around her neck is swaying to-and-fro aimlessly in front of her. She is wearing a costume that has the white outlines of bones painted on it, giving her the appearance of being a walking x-ray. If anypony asks, though, she’s a skeleton. Tonight is Nightmare Night, and the mare has been waiting for this day for weeks, and now that it is finally here, the small pony is about to explode with happiness. “Easy now,” her father says. “You don’t want to wear yourself out!” “I don’t think that will be a problem, dear,” her mother replies, smiling amusedly. “Do you think Spades will be here soon?” the mare asks. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he will be here any minute now.” Sure enough, just as her mother finishes speaking, the mare catches sight of the small colt running through the small crowds of ponies out in the streets. He is wearing a zombie costume, one that looks quite comical considering the googly eyes that are protruding from springs on the top of his head. “It’s alright,” he says, gasping. “I’m here.” “Spades!” the mare exclaims. “Nice costume!” “Thanks! Yours is pretty cool too!” The mare’s mother chuckles quietly. “Alright you two, have fun tonight and remember to be in the park in time for the bonfire, ok?” “Yes, Mom,” the mare says in a sing-song voice before turning to her friend. “Come on! Let’s go get some candy!” The small colt’s face lights up at that. “We should try Miss Chalk’s place first. She always gives us chocolate.” And with that the two ponies were off hunting candy like trained professionals. As the night wore on, their buckets started to fill up considerably with a huge collection of multi-coloured sweets and chocolate bars. The two children loved all of the decorations, and the other pony’s costumes. There were pirates, princesses, fairies and ghouls. They even spotted a few of their friends from school dressed up like scarecrows. All around town the motif of the eye sits on every street corner, its single purple iris staring down at everypony, causing an exciting chill to run down the mare’s spine whenever she sees it. This is complimented by the decorations and stalls that ponies everywhere have set up. There are games and places to buy food, all furnished by hanging spiders or bats. The mare loves every second of Nightmare Night. As the moon begins to creep toward its apex, the two friends make their way toward the park. In the trees there are more bats and spiders that hang from almost invisible wires, swaying gently despite the lack of any wind. In the middle of the park, in the centre of a large clearing, there is a huge pile of logs and branches gathered from the dead wood of the trees around Canterlot. The mare knew that the wood is to be the annual Nightmare Night bonfire. She doesn’t care that some adults say that it ‘isn’t tradition’ – to her it’s exciting. Off to the side of clearing sits a small stage supporting a few musicians. They are filling the air with soft background music, something light and airy to keep spirits high. The mare watches as a small crowd gathers around the bonfire, all waiting expectantly. A unicorn with a single flame for a cutie mark walks up to the pyre, his horn glowing orange in the night. With a bright flash and small pop, the centre of the pyre begins to burn brightly and everypony assembled cheers. The mare smiles widely, watching as the fire begins to overwhelm the piles of wood, licking greedily along their length. As the fire grows, it starts to send up sparks and shoots of flame. The mare knows that they always place small fireworks into its depth, but it still makes her jump every time. “It’s so pretty,” the mare whispers, staring into the flames. “Uh… yeah?” Spades says. “I love Nightmare Night,” the mare suddenly concludes, breaking her own trance. “Yeah, me too,” the colt agrees, glad he can finally find some common ground. “Candy is awesome.” The mare giggles and nods her head before casting her gaze back to the fire. Down in the clearing, the flames continue to grow, bathing everypony in a flickering red light. The next morning, the two ponies continued through the barren wastes. They were heading decidedly southeast now, toward the more broken terrain of eastern Equestria. As they walked they spoke little, instead letting their near-silent hoof-steps do all the conversing for them. Overhead, the light moved steadily through the clouds, illuminating the world for all that it was worth. To their left, though the mare couldn’t be sure, she thought that she could see the barest outlines of great mountains. If she was correct, then somewhere in amongst those dark shadows on the horizon was her home. “Mama?” the filly suddenly asked. “Yes?” “Did… did you have many friends?” The mare paused. “I... yes. I did. I had friends.” “I know you had friends, but did you have a lot?” The older pony looked at her daughter, unsure at what the question was truly asking. “I had a few friends that were all very close to me,” she said after awhile. The small pony fell silent for a brief spell. “But not anymore?” “No, not anymore,” the mare admitted reluctantly. “Except for you,” she added with a small smile. “I don’t have any friends,” the filly said sadly. “What about me?” “You’re my mom, but I guess that means we can still be friends.” She didn’t say the words unkindly, but they still hurt. “I’d like that,” the mare said softly. “All of your friends,” the filly began again, “they’re all dead aren’t they?” The mare’s face fell ever so slightly. “Yes… they are.” “I’m sorry,” the filly said. “Don’t be,” the mare responded. “There is nothing we can do to change it.” “I guess…” the filly said. “Maybe they’re in a better place?” “Maybe.” For the rest of the day neither of them spoke another word. The mare soon became frustrated at the seemingly slow pace they were making. She knew that they weren’t actually moving slowly – it was just an illusion created by the huge expanse of nothing in front of her. That did not change the fact that it was annoying her. They were utterly alone in the vastness of the Manehatten plains. There was barely a speck of anything larger than the remains of a bush as far as the ponies could see, the general enormity only serving to make them feel even smaller. They were unfathomable spots of life meandering over an ashen waste far larger than they could possibly visualise, lone grains of sand on a desert of death and decay. In the distance behind them, Manehatten rapidly became a faint smudge. The pillars of smoke blended into the haze of the horizon, indiscernible from the ever-present cloud up above. The mare wondered whether or not the tower was still burning, though it probably was, considering the smoke. Far too soon for the mare’s liking, twilight began to fall, sucking the visibility from the world. They were far closer to their goal now and would easily reach it tomorrow. The mare’s stomach twisted at the though of it, though. She shook her head, trying to clear the feeling. She didn’t quite succeed. After dinner, the two ponies curled up to sleep, the mare again refusing to create any light in the wide open plains. The filly soon fell asleep, though the mare took considerably longer to do just that. Her mind would not stay still; it jumped at every sound, debated every thought and questioned every emotion. Sleep was a hard-won battle. The two ponies headed out, guided by the cold light of the morning and the wooded gullies in front of them. Overhead, the mare noted with concern the growing concentration of dark clouds, their bulging bodies visibly growing even as she stared at them. A wind was blowing now too. It was cold and swept along the land with a slowly increasing pace, whipping the ash up into ferocious swirls. There was a storm coming. By mid-morning they had left the barren plains behind them and had now entered the wooded region of Equestria’s heartland. Here the ground had been too uneven to grow crops, so had been left to act as forest reserves, havens for wildlife. The only settlements here were the ones built along the main trading roads. These roads cut a straight line through the earth, regardless of any obstacles. They had once been the arteries of commerce and production. The mare knew exactly where her house was. Off in the distance a single hill rose up a little higher than the others, its peak crested with grey boulders. It was in the shadow of this hill, a little way away from the town itself, hidden from the world. The mare pushed on towards her destination, curiosity burning inside of her. She didn’t know what she expected to find. For all she knew it was probably destroyed, the walls having faded away into the ash around it. What she did know, however, was that she wanted to find out for certain. At around what the mare guessed to be midday, they stopped. They were so close now, the mare knew. The shadow of the hill loomed up in front of them, covered by dead trees and loose boulders. Her house was less than a mile away, tucked around the side of the hill. “We’re almost there,” the mare said. “To your home?” “Y-… yes, my home.” The filly nodded her head understandingly. After consuming a mouthful of water each, the two ponies continued on, trepidation burning in the mare’s heart. They rounded the hill slowly, listening out to anything out of the ordinary. Above them the hill rose up sharply and all around them the trees watched with burned, dead eyes. The trees here grew thin and far apart, leaving plenty of room to walk amongst them. There wasn’t any undergrowth, having long since died away. The two ponies stepped around the edge of a boulder jutting out from the hill, and the mare froze. In front of her, about one hundred feet away in a small depression in the earth, was the small cottage where she was born. It was a small, mostly wooden affair with a simply furnished roof. The house had small walls, each featuring a few broken windows, their frames empty and dark. The front door was broken, somepony having bucked it down. Around the house lay the ashen remains of a small garden, the once-white picket fence surrounding the flower patch now dirty and broken. The most remarkable thing about it, however, was the overall lack of damage. There was barely a scorch mark on the building, seemingly having been mostly protected by the hill. The mare approached the house carefully, but it simply sat silently and abandoned, watching the mare come closer. The filly walked beside her mother, noiselessly offering support. The garden is filled with flowers. Dozens of them, each one of the gems flowing gently with the wind, brushing against each other soundlessly. The mare watches them move while her mother digs gently into the ground nearby, humming to herself. In each corner of the yard, an oak sapling is growing contently, its fledgling leaves a brilliant green. The mare is resting in the shade of one of these trees, keeping her mother company while she works. Beneath her the grass is soft and smells sweet, spongy and springy beneath her body. Neither of them say much, however. The peace and quiet is comforting. Watching her mother garden is one of the few times the mare stays still for any length of time. She likes watching the flowers go from seeds to the brilliant jewels that lighten up the world when they are grown. It’s spring, winter having been wrapped up only a few weeks before. It’s the perfect time to plant new seeds and the mare’s mother is taking full advantage of the glorious weather. The mare watches the orchids that were planted only last year from their first flowers. She smiles softly. “I like those ones, Mommy,” she says, her voice soft and innocent. “They are pretty,” her mother replies, smiling at the small pony as she does. “Can we plant more, please?” “Not this year. We have to plant new things every year. That way everything gets a chance to grow. Every flower gets a chance to live.” “Oh…” “But don’t worry,” her mother adds, “we will still plant a few more.” The mare smiles. They moved past the desolate garden and approached the broken front door. The door was lying on the ground, its twisted hinges having been bucked right from the frame, splintering the wood in the process. Neither hearing nor seeing anything out of the ordinary to suggest that they weren’t alone, the two ponies entered the house. They were welcomed into a dimly lit sitting room. Bare wooden walls stripped of even the panelling seemed to draw close around the ponies, leaning in on them. The room itself was almost empty, featuring only a broken sofa with mouldy stuffing spread around like the intestines of some horrific murder victim and an empty fireplace, the stone black from use. The mare could see nails protruding from the walls were pictures would have once hung, but now they were bare, having been removed a long time ago. There were two doors that led off from this room, and the mare chose the one on the right, the one that headed to the kitchen. Leaving the empty sitting room behind them, the two ponies walked into a narrow corridor, more empty picture frames on the wall. Here the wooden panelling had been removed to about leg height on the ponies, giving the impression that the corridor had been almost cut in half. The mare took the first door on the right and stepped slowly into the kitchen. Her eyes narrowed slightly when she saw the damage that had been wrought upon this room. Everything had been destroyed. Cupboards lay smashed on the ground, drawers splintered next to them, their homes empty and dark. The oven had been kicked in, glass lying on the floor in jagged chunks. The fridge door stood open. Its grimy interior was sparse except for a few wire racks. Somepony had clearly ransacked this room thoroughly, taking everything, not just items of use. “What are you making, Mommy?” the tiny pony asks in a sing-song voice, her eyes shining. Her mother smiles at her patiently. “I’m making a cake. Would you like to help?” “Yes, please!” the mare exclaims, bouncing as she does. “Excellent. Can you please get me the flour from the pantry?” The mare rushes over to the door, eager to help. She pushes it open and gets up onto the bucket placed strategically so she can access the shelves. The pony stands up on her two back hooves, her balance unsteady. She grabs the white sack of flour with her mouth and begins the journey down. She doesn’t, however, take into consideration the weight of her quarry. With a short cry and a large ‘thump’, the mare comes crashing down to the floor, the bag of flour landing on her face with a soft ‘thwack’. “Ow…” the small pony says, trying to hold back tears. She doesn’t want to cry, she can’t let Mommy down. “Oh goodness!” her mother fusses, rushing over to her side and removing the flour from her face. “Are you ok? Are you hurt?” Rolling over, the mare sniffs once. “I’m… I’m ok…” She stares down at the ground, not wanting to meet her mother’s gaze. “Little one,” her mother begins, lifting her face up with a hoof. “You need to be more careful.” “I… I know…” she whispers, trying to bite back the tears. She can’t cry, she just can’t. Her mother smiles at her gently. “Now, we have a cake to make, and I need my number one assistant on board. What do you say? Do you think you can help me beat the mixture?” The mare nods her head quickly, a small smile breaking on her lips. She can beat the mixture! And then maybe she will get to lick the spoon afterwards! The tears are already disappearing. “Well, what are you waiting for?” the older pony asks, a mischievous grin on her face. The mare jumps up, ready, willing and able to help, her previous mistake already forgotten. It was time to make a cake! The mare and her daughter left the kitchen, re-entering the wooden hallway. The door at the end of the corridor was the one on the left, and it led to the study. This room had always acted as a place of solace between the two sections of the house. The living areas of the kitchen and lounge room formed one side and then the bedrooms were on the other. The old wooden desk that had sat in the middle of the room was gone, the musty carpet now bare and empty. There used to be bookshelves on these walls, but all but one are gone now, the lone remainder lying splintered on the floor. The window on the far wall was broken. The rotting curtains clung onto their rusting supports. Walking through the room, the two ponies left the study. In front of them was another corridor, identical to its counterpart on the other side of the study. Four doors branched off this hallway, two on the left, and two on the right. Both of the ones on the right were bedrooms, while the two on the left were the bathroom and sitting room, respectively. The mare paused to briefly examine the first bedroom, the one that had been her parents’. The only piece of furniture left in it was the empty bed frame, the springs rusting and covered in grime. The walls were bare, and the ground was filthy, soiled rags lying discarded next to gruesome stains on the carpet. There was a foul smell in the air. The mare closed the door quickly. The bathroom door was open, partly revealing a grimy interior. The tiles’ current condition was a stark contrast to the glistening white that her mother had always kept them in. The mirror on the wall was shattered, shards of glass lying, un-reflective, on the dirty floor. The medicine cabinet beside it was broken, the doors hanging on limply, the shelves empty. Outside, the wind whistled through the broken windows. It had picked up considerably in strength since they had entered. Filled with apprehension, the mare approached the last room of the house cautiously. This was her room. It was where she had lived. It was her rock of stability in a world where growing up is never easy, never straightforward. A long time ago this was her home, and this room was the centrepiece to that idea, the cornerstone of her identity. It was her bedroom. Inhaling slowly, the mare paused in front of the door while the filly watched on silently. Lifting her hoof up off the wooden floor, the mare pushed open the door to reveal – The mare is colouring in a picture she just finished herself. The picture is of herself and her parents. All three ponies are smiling under the shade of a big tree while above the sun smiles, literally, down on the family. Around them are flowers, some of them red, some blue, some white. On the top of the page reads the crudely scribbled title: ‘Me and my family’. The memory shifts. A doll sits across from the mare, and she is serving it tea. She lifts the tea-pot as carefully as she can, trying to make sure it doesn’t shake. “Mwor tee?” the mare mumbles through a clenched jaw. The doll stares back at her in silent and constant agreement. Tilting her head slowly, the mare pours out some of the invisible liquid into an empty cup before placing the tea-pot back in the middle of the table. She sighs; this feels kind of silly. Another memory. Now she is lying in her warm and cosy bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. Her eyes feel so tired, almost as if something is physically weighing them down. Outside, the trees are illuminated by the light of the moon, their leaves now appearing almost silver in the night air. Her mother walks into the room, smiling as she always does. “Bed time, little one,” she coos affectionately. “You have a brand new day waiting for you tomorrow.” The mare yawns, her ears popping slightly as she does. She smacks her mouth open and closed twice to clear them. “I love you, Mommy,” she says sleepily, rapidly losing the fight to stay awake. “I love you too, little one,” her mother replies. “I love you too.” Her voice echoes slightly as the mare falls into a deep sleep, soon lost in a world of dreams and peace. “I love you too.” - nothing. Absolutely nothing. The mare froze, staring into the empty room. It was completely empty; every piece of defining furniture had been removed. The panelling on the walls was gone, leaving the insulation peeking through into the dimness. Even the curtains were missing, their empty supports sticking out of wall, framing the top of the window. There was literally nothing inside, nothing except for two ponies, their shoulders low to the ground, their mouths closed. Suddenly, the mare turned to leave. The filly jumped back slightly, taken aback by the abruptness of her mother’s movement. “What’s wrong, Mama?” the filly asked. “We shouldn’t have come here,” the mare said simply, walking out of the room. “Why not?” the small pony pressed, almost tripping over her hooves to catch up. “Because there was nothing here. There was nothing left.” Nothing except the memories. “But-” “Let’s just go,” the mare interrupted. “We need to find someplace to camp. There will be a storm soon.” The filly fell silent at that, letting her body fall into a natural rhythm next to her mother’s. They left the house, stepping over the broken front door, and left it behind them. Not once did the mare look back. Not once. While the two ponies had been inside the house, the weather had gotten progressively worse. Now the wind whipped around them ferociously, tugging at their clothing with sharp, cruel talons. Ash swirled through the air in lines, racing across the earth like the runners of old. The clouds were almost black now, their bodies huge and bulging, just waiting to explode onto the earth in a torrent of rage. The mare pressed on through the trees, keeping head down low against the wind. The filly walked close behind her, trying to use her body as some sort of slip-stream. Heading southeast, the mare saw what she was looking for, or at least the indication of it. The land became much more broken in the south, falling into steep gullies and ravines. The mare knew from her time as a child here that there were several caves in these gorges – perfect shelter from storms. Pushing themselves onward, the two ponies drew nearer to the jagged scars in the earth. They were like the claw marks of some gigantic monster. The trees stood evenly, their branches creaking in the wind. Upon reaching the first canyon, the mare looked down the length of the gully to find that the walls were too short to hold any caves. Frustrated, she began to pick her way down the steep slope to get to the other side. The walls of these ravines were covered in scree, now even more slippery because of the ash. Placing her hooves carefully to make sure she didn’t slip, the mare climbed down to the bottom of the valley. It was quieter down in the gully, the wind struggling to puncture its depth. The shelter provided by the shallow walls allowed the trees in the bottom of the ravine to grow a little taller. They were almost the same height of the ones sitting on top the cliffs. The mare wasted little time in finding a route back up on the other side, one with small boulders that provided a more stable footing. Making sure that the filly was still behind her, the mare began to climb. When they were near the top, they sky began to break. Large, fat raindrops plummeted to the ground, striking the ash with a soft pfft or the rocks with a loud slap. There were only one or two now, but soon there would be countless numbers. The mare turned to the small pony behind her. “Hurry. We have to hurry.” “I… know…” the filly gasped out, making the mare realise how fast she was pressing them. “It’s not much further,” she said more gently. The filly just kept on climbing. At the top of the ravine, the mare raced over to the next miniature canyon. There was only a distance of about twenty metres between the scars in the earth, and so the mare covered that distance in no time at all. “Come quick!” she called back excitedly. “I think I’ve found one!” The filly quickly closed the distance between them, trying to catch her breath as she did. Down in the gully she could see that her mother was right. A black opening gaped at them from about eighty feet away from their position. Eager to get under shelter as soon as they could, the mare began racing down the wall of the ravine, slipping and sliding as she did. Around them, the raindrops started to fall more often, their cold bodies hitting against the ponies’. At the bottom of the gully, the mare started to race up to the cave, making sure that the filly was behind her. The cave was framed by a ring of rock, its surface weathered and beaten. The mare slowed when she drew near to the entrance. It was silent inside. The only audible sounds were the ones from the fledgling storm. Taking the lantern out of their saddlebags, the mare lit it and let the light pour into the cave, illuminating it with a flickering orange light. The cave itself was small and empty, only about twenty feet deep. The walls formed a rough cylindrical tube. Small piles of rubble lay scattered around on the ground. It wasn’t much, but it was warm and it was dry, two facts the mare breathed a sigh of relief for. She didn’t want to risk infection in the cold and rain. Behind the mare, the filly also entered the cave, staring blankly at her new surroundings. She shook herself to clear most of the water from her mane, and then sniffed once. The mare undid the buckles on their bags and let them fall to the ground in a rough heap, clanking as they did. Outside there was a flash, followed closely by the resounding boom of thunder. The filly jumped slightly at the loud noise as the earth shook slightly. A second later, it began to rain, only this time, truly, properly rain. The mare watched as the ash soon became soaked into a mushy slush as the sky continued to deposit torrents of water onto the ground. The mare’s stomach suddenly grumbled loudly, and she stared at it, frustrated. Then again, it probably was time to eat. She wasn’t sure if it was just the storm, but it was very dark outside. The pony sat down and tiredly withdrew some tins of beans and their stove. She stared at the filly expectantly, who joined her on the cave floor. “We don’t know how long the storm will be,” the mare said. “So let’s try and get some rest, ok?” The filly nodded her head, waiting patiently for her food. When it finally arrived, she gobbled it up greedily, licking the plate clean of any scraps of sauce that may have been left. The mare did the same, savouring every last morsel. To finish up the meal, the mare passed the water bottle to the small pony, watching as she drank from the old metal canteen. When she had finished, the mare took a mouthful herself, letting the poorly cleaned water, tainted with a faint metallic taste, wash down her dinner. The two ponies settled down after that, resting as outside the rain continued to pummel the ground. There was so much water that the mouth of the cave had formed into a miniature waterfall, the rain rushing down into the valley below. Occasionally the world would be illuminated by a great flash before it shook with the reverberating explosion of thunder that followed shortly after. Later that evening, the filly perked up quietly, obviously coming to the end of a long internal discussion. “Mama?” she began slowly. ‘Yes?” “Where are we going now?” Her voice was hesitant, unsure.  “Home,” she said. “We’re still going home.” The small pony frowned slightly. “But… but what happens if we get there and there is nothing left, just like at your old home today?” The mare was silent for a long time, staring past the filly and out into the rain, watching as it fell with a vengeance, soaking the earth till it overflowed. “I’m still going,” she said finally. “But why, Mama?” she pressed almost pleadingly. “Because I have to see where I lived, just one last time, no matter what’s waiting for me when I get there.” She spoke the words more to herself than her daughter. “I… don’t understand,” the filly admitted. “I know,” the mare said, suddenly apologetic. “And I’m sorry.” “Will we be ok, Mama?” the filly suddenly asked.   “Yes we will, don’t worry. I promise to look after you.” “But will you be ok as well?” “Of course I will be. If you’re ok, then so am I,” the mare said matter-of-factly. “Ok…” the filly said, but she didn’t look convinced. “Look, try to get some rest ok?” the mare suggested gently. The filly nodded once before laying her head back down on her makeshift pillow. She wrapped her tail around herself tightly and turned her head away from the mare. Frowning, the mare followed suit, preparing herself for sleep. She pulled the blankets around her tired and battered form tightly before she reached over and blew out the light, extinguishing all visibility, leaving nothing but the sound of the wind and the rain as they fought against the earth. The mare knows the shadows this time. She watches them writhe with a certain air of familiarity, waiting for them to take shape into something recognizable. Almost as if it recognises her complacency, the shadows seem to hiss and move faster, pressing down on the pony with an intangible weight. She grimaces slightly in discomfort. Suddenly, they subside slightly, cooling off as they move. The mare watches as they rearrange themselves, forming walls, a roof and a floor. Before long, the mare finds herself in a cave, identical to the one she should be sleeping in right now. Beside her stands a figure, wrapped in the darkness, its eyes glistening like obsidian. The pony-shaped shadow approaches the mare, watching her with its lidless gaze. “Mama?” it asks quietly, unsure, testing. “Yes, little one?” she finds herself replying out of habit. Though she’s not sure she could have said anything else whether she had tried or not. “Why is the world burning, Mama?” the shadow-filly asks. “It’s not burn-” the mare begins, but stops, her mouth open in horror. Outside the mouth of the cave, there is a sickening orange glow, casting a horrific light onto the forms of shadow inside. The mare watches as the orange glow reveals itself to be fire, the flames licking along unseen fuel as it roars into an unstoppable inferno. She gasps as she sees the rain, the long shafts of fire shooting down from the sky, engorging the destruction on the ground. “I… I don’t know,” the mare says, her voice shaky. “But it is burning, Mama,” the shadow-filly replies. “It’s burning everything. Look, even the rain is on fire, Mama.” “No…” “How can we escape now? How can we get out if everything is burning, Mama?” Her voice is flat, neutral and apathetic. “We… can’t,” the mare admits, her heart sinking. “Well, there is always one option,” the shadow whispers before turning and walking towards the entrance of the cave. The mare looks up, horrified. “Wait! Where are you going?!” “Going? Where am I going?” the shadow says, stopping just in front of the entrance, her entire body seemingly illuminated from within by the fire. “I’m going someplace nice, Mama. There is something there that I have to see one last time.” She is begging, her voice cracking as she tries to get her shadow-daughter to stop. “Please don’t leave me! Please, please don’t leave me!” The shadow-filly looks at her. “Please, please don’t leave me!” The mare is crying now, the hot tears streaming down her face. “Please!” “It’s too late now, Mama. I’m already leaving.” She starts to walk toward the entrance. “But where?! Please don’t leave!” The shadow stops, one hoof reaching out toward the fire. She turns her head slowly, her face blank. “Home. I’m going home, Mama.” The shadow steps out into the fire. The flames roar eagerly to engulf her entire body, utterly consuming it in a wall of fury. “No!” the mare screams. “NO!” The mare jolted upright, her whole body shaking. Outside, it was barely raining anymore, the thunderous downpour replaced by the soft sounds of water dripping from branches or rocks. The wind also almost gone as well, leaving just the ghost of a breeze in its place. The fact that the mare could see anything at all told her it’s already dawn. Her whole body was drenched in sweat, so the mare rolled over onto her front so she could stand up. Throwing her gaze around her, her eyes fell on the shape of her daughter, whose wide eyes stared up at her in fear. “Are you ok, Mama?” the filly whispered. “Y-yes,” the mare replied. “I’m ok. It was just a dream.” “I had a bad dream,” the small pony said almost wistfully. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No…” “Are you sure?” The filly was silent for a moment, gazing outside of the gaze, watching as the occasional drip of rain fell from the roof. “It’s stopped raining, Mama.” “But…” She stopped. “Yes, it has.” “Will we be leaving today?” the filly asked “Yes. We should probably keep moving,” the mare replied. “Ok.” The mare walked over to the mouth of the cave and peered out into the gloom. The earth was still very dark, and the clouds were thicker than normal, turning the air into a dark, bruised colour. Along the walls of the gully, the mare could see the remnants of the storm-water rushing down in several impromptu rivers to join a six feet wide stream down in the bottom. The storm had been ferocious, and several trees had been uprooted, lying in the mud, their bodies shattered and broken. Turning back inside, the mare opened the saddle bags and prepared a meagre breakfast of some savoury biscuits she had found in the Manehatten house. They were rock hard and stale, but they were food. The filly still devoured it all without complaint. The mare knew that they were not desperate for food - thanks to their find in Manehatten. But she didn’t want to waste anything, especially considering she had no idea when they would be able to find food next. She did note, however, the disturbing lack of fuel for their small stove. She should have looked harder in Manehatten. Gas was even harder to come by. She didn’t really use the stove much now, but the old notions of trade were hard to remove. Gas used to be worth a lot to the right pony. Used to. After breakfast, the mare readied herself for travelling, strapping on their saddlebags with a routine as worn as the bags themselves. The filly stood waiting by the mouth of the cave. She looked down at the ground, muddied and covered in an ashen slush from the storm. “We will have to go slowly,” the mare said. “So be careful, ok?” The small pony nodded her head once to show her understanding. Together, they stepped out of the cave and resumed their journey south. The ground proved difficult to walk on; the mud sucked on their hooves greedily, squelching with each step. They made their way to the top of the ravine and started to head southeast along the rest of the scars. It soon became apparent to the mare that they couldn’t keep climbing down and up each one, and so instead they moved along the top of the ridges. She would wait till the canyons were shallower before attempting to scale them. In each ravine the mare could see the damage inflicted by the storm. Huge paths of earth had been cut out by the rain, the erosion causing small landslides along many of the steeper cliffs. Entire trees had been brought down by these landslides, now lying in the rivers at the bottom. At about midday, the mare stopped in front of the largest canyon they had encountered all day. This one broke the pattern they had found and was running from the northeast to the southwest rather than the northwest to the southeast. The sides of the gully were almost sheer drops. Trees and boulders jutted out of the walls at regular intervals. The mare looked down both ends of the valley, and saw that it seemed to stretch on for as far as they could see, almost in a dead straight line. Down to the south, visible in the distance, the land was broken by several more gullies that appeared to connect to large one in front of them. Rather than climb these, the mare went northeast, hoping that it would end soon so they could get back on track. They followed the ridge, surrounded on their left by a thicket of dead trees. The wooden corpses grew close together. It gave them the appearance of huddling together for warmth, their branches all leaning southwards with the wind. On their right, the ground fell away sharply to a distance of about sixty feet. The two ponies kept away from the ridge, choosing to walk along the edge of the thicket. They kept the ravine in their sights at all times. The mare focused on placing each hoof onto the ground, watching as each step sent flecks of mud flying up onto her clothing. She was covered in splatters of mud – just like what she had seen on the butchers of this new world. She quickly looked away, choosing the sky instead. There she was met with the tumultuous clouds. They were still so angry, rolling within each other, charged with a pent up rage. Crack. The mare froze, her ears snapping to attention. Beside her, the filly stopped mid-stride, one of her front hooves still raised off of the ground. The two ponies waited, listening intently. They were met by silence. Cautiously, the mare took a step or two toward the trees where she had heard the sound. She peered between their cracked and burned bodies, her vision quickly running into an accumulative wall of trees. Inside, nothing was moving. A soft swirl of ash circled around a branch that had fallen to the ground. The forest was dead, and it was falling apart. There was nothing there. There was nothi- Suddenly, a soft striking sound caused the two ponies to snap toward the other side. It had sounded like two rocks, or hooves, hitting against each other, and it had originated from inside the canyon. The mare’s ears pricked up. There it was again, a soft, sharp clipping sound, repeating again and again. Then it was silent, the emptiness resonating in the air. Her heart pounding, the mare undid the saddlebags and handed them over to the filly. She made sure to stick the knife into a loop of fabric on her front leg before she passed the saddlebags. “What are you doing, Mama?” the small pony whispered urgently, her voice filled with fear. “I’m going to have a look,” she replied. “Go hide in the trees, ok? There is a boulder inside, wait there.” She didn’t want her daughter with her in case she had to run away. The small pony wasn’t as fast as her; the cave had shown her that. It was better she hide. “No, Mama!” the filly whimpered. “Don’t go!” “I’m just having a look. Please go and hide.” Her voice was quiet, but blunt. She wouldn’t risk being ambushed again, and she was certain the forest was clear. “But-” “Now,” the mare pressed, placing the saddle bags over the filly’s back as she did. “I won’t be far. I promise.” The filly stared at her briefly for a moment, her eyes both terrified and sad. She opened her mouth but then closed it before turning and walking toward the boulder. The mare watched her go for a moment, her figure disappearing between the trees. She felt a stab of guilt spike through her gut, but ignored it. She was being proactive now; she wasn’t going to fall in to another trap. The mare made her way slowly over to the ravine, keeping her body low to the ground to minimise the sound her hooves made. She winced every time they made a wet noise in the mud. The mare crept closer to the edge of the gully. She stuck her head out over the edge and peered downwards. Sweeping away from her, the walls of the valley fell down into a collection of trees and boulders. At the bottom, she could see the white-water of a raging stream, engorged by the storm. A sudden flash of movement caused her head to jerk to the side. She stared intently down the ravine, watching for the shadow that she could have sworn had just danced behind a tree. She waited, but there was nothing, just the faint sound of water moving a long way below. The mare began to move, walking down the edge of the ravine, keeping her eyes fixed on the offending tree. She had moved about eighty feet down the gully when her eyes locked onto more movement – a shadow, dancing lightly down the gully just a little bit further down. The trees blocked her view, so she couldn’t be sure. She stopped a little way further and glanced back. She had come further than she had meant to, the thicket of trees blurring in the distance. Her brow furrowed, she had come all this way and found nothing. Absolutely nothing. She lightly kicked a small stone off the edge of the ravine and watched it dance down to the bottom. Just the like the shadows before… She groaned. How could she have been so stupid? How- A small scream cut its way through the afternoon air, a piercing cry that turned the mare’s heart to ice. It came from the trees. “No…” she whispered. Her daughter. Panicking, the mare spun on her hooves, preparing herself to sprint toward her daughter. Suddenly, the world slipped, disappearing beneath her  The mare watched as the world corkscrewed on itself as she fell. Her body hit the slightly sloping gully wall, and she began to roll uncontrollably, carried by a wall of mud and stones, all loosened by the rain. The mare felt several stabbing pains as she rolled, her world blurred and incoherent as around her the trees passed by as shadows. Then without warning, she came to an abrupt stop, hitting a bank of ash hard. Coughing, her whole body aching and sore, the mare tried to clear her head. The remains of the landslide ran up the steep wall in front of her. Around the pony it continued to deposit trickles of loose earth. She groaned, which sent a stabbing pain through her side. Shaking her head slightly, the mare tried to stand. Her muscles ached and there were several shallow cuts and scrapes that burned as she moved, but otherwise everything seemed to be in one piece. The mare sent a silent thank you to the heavens that she had missed all of the trees or boulders on the way down. She froze. The filly! She was still up on top! Her eyes widening in panic, the mare desperately looked around. On both sides the walls were too steep to climb, and the ground would have been too loose anyway. Realising that she only had one other option, the mare began to sprint along the gully, searching for a place where she could climb up. As she ran, her whole body groaned in protest. Gritting her teeth, the mare forced herself onwards. After what felt like an hour, the mare finally found a slope gentle enough to climb. She pushed her aching legs up, cursing her hooves as they slipped in the mud. Gasping for breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire, the mare crested the top of the ravine. A cold wind was blowing, chilling the sweat clinging to the mare’s coat and clothing. In the distance on her right, the mare could just make out what she hoped was the thicket of trees. Steeling herself, the mare kept running. She had to keep running. She breathed a small sigh of relief when she realised that this was the thicket where she had left the filly. Her whole body began to tense now, fearing an ambush. Trying to stay quiet, yet move as fast as she could, the mare made her way into the trees, listening for anything other than what sound she herself was making. Up overhead, the light edged its way toward the west, rapidly slipping away from the mare. The trees stared at her accusingly, watching the pony move desperately toward the boulder. Her heart froze inside her chest when she saw her quarry, the rough stone standing in amongst the lengthening shadows. There was nothing nearby. There was absolutely nothing. No filly and no packs. There was nothing. A/N: A massive thank you to Sessalisk for editing, and an equally big thank you to everyone for reading. Questions? Comments? I appreciate feedback of any kind, so please let me know how you are finding it! I shall see you for chapter 6!