The weekend; a time to kick back and relax. To shed one's anxieties and disturbances, and to forget the things that, in the big picture, don't matter. While Big Mac was a dutiful worker, he was by no means a workaholic; no, that title goes to his sister.

'That mare gets out even less'n I do,' Macintosh chuckled, shaking his head as he lay next to a tree, eyes closed, letting the world pass him by for the day. 'From the sounds of it, the only time she's ever really relaxed is when she visits us... and even then, we often hear her mutter to herself about whatever little errands and jobs she has to run back in Manehattan.'

Opening his eye just a bit, Big Mac noticed somepony coming his way; a very familiar somepony. Zecora seemed to be making her way towards him at a hurried pace, a nervous look in her eye. 'Oh no. What's goin' on here?'

"Big Mac, thank goodness you're here," shouted Zecora, placing her hooves on his shoulders, "I've had a bad omen, a dark one I fear!" Macintosh frowned at the little zebra mare, whose eyes seemed as unsure as they did desperate.

Zecora let him go and stepped back. "I was meditating by a pond in the Everfree... focusing on my chi and the universe, you see... when out of nowhere should my trusty staff break! A staff from a far away land, enchanted for goodness' sake!" Big Mac stared at the zebra, his eyes betraying that he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. She sighed, closing her eyes. "My staff was enchanted, from a potion such magic is granted. It responds to magic in the air, responding to the energy we all share. In kind, loving magic, the staff is strong, as tough as steel, I am not wrong..." She frowned darkly at him. "But when there is dark magic about... it builds inside, then expands out."

Big Mac stared at her, putting everything she was saying together. "What you're sayin' is... yer stick exploded... so evil magic is around?"

"'Tis a staff, no mere stick... but yes, that is the tale told quick." She held a hoof up. "I've been here for months without incident, so whatever changed must be recent! A foul wind blows in the air, so in our quest we must take care."

Big Mac sighed, refusing to stand up just yet, hoping to avert a crisis so that he might resume his nap. "What if your stick jus' broke?"

Zecora, however, grimaced at the mere thought. "The enchantment on it keeps it tough! It would take a manticore to break such stuff!"

"An' your staff didn't take any damage from our adventure?" Macintosh raised a brow. "Stress can have long lastin' effects."

"Great care I take of my tools! A staff is sacred; no stick for fools!" Zecora glared at Big Mac, seeming to grow irritated by him. "Please heed me if you will, because darkness looms in Ponyville!"

Macintosh frowned. Once more, she had that intensity in her eyes, but none of the desperation from before; she was angry. 'Whatever's goin' on has her seriously spooked. Even if I don't believe this, I should at least find some way to comfort her.' Macintosh sighed. "What do ya want?"

"The book is the key to our answer you see..." Zecora frowned. "Please tell me you translated; not procrastinated!"

Macintosh's eyes went wide. 'I forgot... again!? Maybe there is evil magic here, because I'm not normally so bad at rememberin' things! "Uhh..."

Zecora frowned, then pulled a hoof to the bridge of her nose. "... This is great... just simply, great..." She looked back up, as if hoping to find an answer in the tree above them. "I can only hope we are not too late." Zecora shook her head, looking at Big Mac with intensity again. "We must hurry and translate them soon, lest forgetfulness spell our doom!" Big Mac felt a twinge of annoyance deep within his soul at this particular moment.

'Great. All I wanted to do was spend the weekend relaxin' and forgettin' my stresses from the past few days. I can't even have that.'

Big Mac sighed. "Alright." Slowly, he pulled himself to his hooves, once more favoring his sprained hoof; he was confident most of the injury had healed by now, but he was cautious enough not to second guess his doctor's orders. "Follow me." Big Mac turned from Zecora and made his way down the hill, the Apple home a distance away. Just this once, he cursed his desire for peace and quiet as he trotted towards home sweet home.

Opening the front door, he stepped inside the house, Zecora following close behind. Immediately, Macintosh caught sight of his grandmother rocking back and forth in her chair, knitting something or other he was not entirely sure of what. The elder nag looked up and saw the two ponies, giving a warm smile. "Oh, hey Big Mac! Back from yer nap already?"

"Eeyup..." He sighed, looking back at Zecora, then to his grandmother. "Granny-"

"Look, I'd rather our name be able t' go on, but if'n she makes ya happy, I'll bless the weddin'." Granny smiled a bit, nodding. Macintosh groaned, slapping a hoof over his face.

"No, Granny..." He sighed, taking a moment to pause. "... Do we know anypony who can translate Old Equestrian?"

Granny Smith stopped. "Huh? Why? You find a new species of critter or somethin'?" Macintosh, deciding to spare himself some voice, decided to hold up a hoof to gesture for her to wait, before turning and making his way up stairs. Zecora and Granny Smith sat silently for a few minutes, the mare turning to the Zebra and smiling. "Yer a very pretty mare, an' if you an' my grandson love each other, I really don't mind."

Zecora chuckled. "I am surprised your eyes I deceive, for I am older than you may believe."

The zebra responded with a simple chuckle. "That's a tribe secret; from one Shaman to another."

Granny Smith laughed, shaking her head. "Well what am I doin' here? Show me where ta sign up!"

"I'm afraid a Shaman chooses her own successor. To assure those she teaches' minds and spirits are not lesser."

"Ah shucks, I was kiddin' anyway." Granny chuckled, shaking her head. "My family keeps me as young as I need ta be!" All at once, the elder mare's head fell slack. Zecora's eyes widened, surprised. She stood their silently, staring at the Apple matriarch, still and unmoving. She slowly moved a hoof towards her, cautiously, carefully...

Then Granny's head shot up, wide-eyes, snorting. "Watch our for th' bees, they got murder in 'eir eyes!" The elder mare blinked a few times, then looked at Zecora. "Oh, hi there. You here fer somethin'?" Zecora only smirked, shaking her head and chuckling, both ponies turning their attention to the sound of a pony moving down the stairs. Macintosh approached them, a book in his mouth, and then dropped it in his granny's lap.

"Huh" said Granny Smith, eying the tome over. "Well lookie here... where'd ya find this?"

Granny blinked a few times, hummed, then pulled the cover open. "Be careful with them crooks. They'll ask ya for priceless family heirlooms fer two bits, then go an' sell 'em fer a small fortune." She hummed, grabbing a pair of reading glasses from nearby and setting them on her nose, looking at the pages of the book before her, her eyes tracing along the letters. Macintosh and Zecora watched her as she seemed to scan over every detail.

Granny looked up to Big Mac and Zecora, smiling. "... I can't make a lick'a sense of any of this. I figured when you said it was in Old Equestrian it'd be like one of them there fancy plays or somethin', but this stuff's like an entirely different language!" Big Mac suppressed a groan; she looked old and feeble, but Granny had a mean right hoof if she was mad at ya, and no qualms against swatting an adult stallion upside the head in front of company. "However, my cousin Goldie Delicious Apple is a history nut, an' she has records an' such from way back..." Granny hummed. "If anypony in our family can read this durn thing, it'd be her." Granny picked the book up, hoofing it back to Big Mac, who took it between his teeth and sat it on his back. "You'll find her outside'a town. She lives in a lil' ol' house a bit west'a here, kinda a museum to th' Apple Family..."

"Thanks Granny." Macintosh smiled and nodded, giving his grandmother a hug. The elder mare returned it, smiling.

"Oh no problem sweetie. You ask fer so little and do so much. Jus' be sure to have a safe journey, an' be home soon. Braeburn's jus' helpless without you 'round to encourage 'em." Granny Smith chuckled a bit, and Macintosh nodded, a smile on his face. He turned to Zecora, sighing a bit.

"I'm already as ready as I need to be; I came to you ready for a journey." Macintosh nodded a bit, though he felt somewhat dissatisfied that she hadn't even considered if he had refused, or worse yet, needed more time. 'Maybe she was gonna go with or without me?'

Macintosh did not take long gathering a few supplies and necessities for his trip; his new flask (though long depleted of the mix that he had been given by Rich, so he had to fill it with water), some honey (to mix with said water to both add flavor and help sooth his pains) a few apple fritters and a first-aid kit, and, of course, the book (after all, he had to be sure it got there) all nestled neatly within the confines of a saddlebag. He stepped outside, where Zecora had already been waiting for him. He gave his grandmother a quick hug, and was soon on his way down the dirt path leaving the farm. Zecora cast a side-glance to him, a soft smile on her face. "Your family is kinder than most any I see... a love is there, true, carefree..." She smiled more, her attention back on the road. "Until today I've had yet to see in Equestria what your family showed to me."

Macintosh chuckled. "I'm not big on iambic pentameter, but that one was kinda stretched, wasn't it?"

Zecora grinned. "And I'm not versed in the 'silence type' scene, but you spoke a few words too much it would seem." Macintosh chuckled, shaking his head, both ponies focusing on the road before them once more. Big Mac noticed that the sky seemed to be gray, clouds building up as if readying for rain. 'Strange. I didn't know we were gonna have rain today. Wonder if those clouds managed to drift from the Everfree or somethin'? As they made their way through the town, Big Mac found himself in wonder of how fast it had grown. 'To think, when Granny was a young mare this place was still a lil' farm town. It's grown so much since then... even Granny says that she finds herself in awe of jus' how much has changed.'

After some time of walking, they finally reached the wall that lead out of town and into the wilderness. Macintosh looked down the path, towards the hill which it lead, and considered the woods that lay beyond it. 'At least it's not the Everfree Forest. Won't have to worry about Manticores or nothin' like that in those woods. Worst case scenario, gotta watch out for ticks.' The further they got from the town, however, Big Mac had noticed that the clouds seemed to be growing more dense. 'Strange. I don't think I see any Pegasi...'

"Your relative lives a distance from others... tensions between sisters? Cousins? Others?"

"Nope" said Big Mac, shaking his head. "Far as I recall, she likes bein' alone."

"Ah..." Zecora hummed, turning her attention back to the road before them. Once more, silence loomed over the journey. Perhaps for the best; Macintosh didn't require conversation, and he was certain Zecora was much the same. He could appreciate a little silence; it gave him all the time in the world he needed to think about any number of things. However, as they walked, he found himself reminiscing; he and his parents had walked this path many times on one errand or another. Big Mac vividly recalled a trip he and his father had made shortly after Applejack was born to educate him on the Apple family history.

The smile on his face might tell volumes of the joy the memories brought him. As he looked, Macintosh was pleased to see that most of the place had remained unchanged in all those years. He looked up, realizing that in his trip down memory lane he had failed to notice the clouds getting thicker. "Hm. No Pegasi... why's there a storm here...?"

Zecora, however, seemed quite serious, looking back to him. "Within my very bones I feel quite the chill... we must hurry, the clouds bode something ill." Macintosh gave a simple nod, and the two ponies began to trot at a more hurried pace. As they hurried, Macintosh felt droplets of rain hit his skin; not too surprising. No, what surprised him was the fact that the sky was continuing to get darker. 'What in the hay...? Okay, this is just crazy weather. I need to talk to th' weather commission an' ask them if their Pegasi have been lettin' clouds drift around all willy nilly...'

It wasn't long before their salvation appeared over a hill -- or rather, perched on top of one. A small house, not too big at all, stood alone within the edge of the woods. Macintosh felt the moniker 'house' might have been a bit generous; the place was more like a hut, really, and the boarded up windows always made it seem abandoned. Still, it had a roof, and the rain was starting to get a bit harder, so he would be just as happy in there as anywhere else. Macintosh and Zecora drew closer to the house, his smile growing at the mere thought of being indoors. Upon reaching the porch the two ponies gained reprieve from the rain, but not much else as Big Mac lay his eyes on a sign on the door that served to mock him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ON A TRIP
BE BACK MONDAY!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well horse-apples..." Big Mac frowned, shaking his head. On one hoof, it meant he would get to enjoy his weekend after all, but on the other, it meant that they had wasted their trip. He sighed, turning to Zecora, who seemed quite understandably disappointed. "I'm sorry."

"No, Macintosh. It is okay... you tried your best, that much you can say..." Zecora turned her attention back out into the rain, frowning. "It is inconvenient, however, that we will have to endure this weather..."

"Mmm... nope." Big Mac put his hoof up above the door frame of the house, searching around. He felt something, which earned a grin, and pushed a key from the top of the door onto the floor below. Taking it into his lips, he pressed the key into the lock, twisting, and pulled it back, placing it on top of his hoof and pushing it up on top of the frame again. He pushed the door open, allowing him and Zecora to walk inside. Instantly, the two ponies were hit by the smell of books and cat urine. "Sorry fer th' smell. Goldie likes cats." Zecora offered a simple nod in response, and Macintosh closed the door behind him.

The living room was an absolute mess; books were scattered all over the place, placed in piles so high one could barely move around or see the walls which, themselves had several pictures of various ponies, most of them presumably Apple family or family friends. The only things that seemed to stand out in the clutter were a couch, a chair, and a coffee table. Big Mac sighed and held a hoof out. "Make yourself at home. She won't mind us usin' th' place until th' rain stops..." Zecora nodded once more, making her way towards a pile of books and looking them over curiously as Big Mac stepped towards the couch and plopping down on it, laying on his side. Macintosh made himself comfortable, laying his head against one of the throw pillows. "Mind if I take a short nap? Didn't sleep too well last night."

"That is fine, be my guest. When the rain stops, I'll end your rest." Macintosh nodded, letting loose a long yawn, then nuzzling into the pillow. The zebra looked at various books, casting a glance back to Big Mac, then back to the books. She picked a few up, opened them, and started reading. The stallion smirked. 'Read all th' books ya want. Jus' a bunch of farmers an' apples in the end.' He let loose another yawn, closing his eyes. He hadn't realized just how tired he was, but he became somewhat more aware of it before he drifted into unconsciousness.

The pitter patter of rain drops on the roof of the house was all encompassing. Hard rain drenched the outside of the house, the sound of wind making the walls occasionally creak.

Macintosh slowly opened his eyes to notice that it was quite dark, save for a lantern on the table. He turned his head about, looking around the room to find only piles of books. 'Oh yeah. Goldie's house...' He turned his attention to a nearby window, seeing that trees were waving around in the rain outside and that the rain was more like a dense fog than anything else. He looked around, suddenly recalling that he had had company before passing out, and that she was nowhere in sight. The stallion pulled himself from his napping spot, standing up and looking around the room. It was then that he became aware that several strange, scented candles dotted the room. 'That's jus' a fire hazard. Why would Zecora light a bunch of candles an' leave 'em unattended?' He made his way to a nearby window, where three of such candles were standing, and looked outside; he could barely see a thing, it was raining so hard.

Big Mac sighed, shaking his head. He was about to turn away and find out where Zecora had gone to when something caught his attention. He looked out the window once more, swearing he had seen something in the rain. He squinted, trying to focus, to see within the sheets of falling water.

"Zecora?" Big Mac raised a brow, but then he saw the mare trot away from the house, disappearing in the rain. 'She's gonna catch her death out there.' Macintosh sighed, really not wanting to have to, but he knew he'd have to go out and get her. He looked around the room, spotting an umbrella holder near the front door with a single umbrella to offer. Grabbing hold of it, he pushed the door open and stepped out of the house, unfolding the umbrella and then stepping from beneath the porch. He grimaced at the fact that the device did not stop the rain from hitting him entirely; no matter how he angled it, some part of him was still getting very drenched. "Zecora," he shouted, pressing forward, "You gotta get inside!"

But she did not respond. She continued to walk away from him, and disappeared once more into the fog. He groaned a bit, following after her. 'What is wrong with this mare? Braeburn is right; she's really set on ending badly!' He pressed forward still, intent on bringing her back one way or another. It seemed to take forever, but eventually, he caught up to her again; she was simply standing there, however, her back to him, as if waiting. He smiled a bit, trotting closer. "Let's get you back inside!"

He stopped, blinking a few times, then turned around, seeing Zecora staring at him, wide-eyed at him. He turned once more. The mare hadn't moved from that spot. As Macintosh looked, he realized what he was staring at was not a mare; it had been a trick of the rain. Up close, he could tell it was a stallion in a hooded cloak. Then, the pony turned to face him; a dark-grey coated stallion with a pair of yellow, slitted eyes.

Big mac stepped back a few steps, furrowing his brow. Suddenly, several other stallions who looked much the same as the one before him fell from the trees, landing with wet splashes into the drenched earth. Zecora rushed to his side, then turned around to face behind him. Macintosh glanced back to realize that they had effectively been surrounded. "You have a book..." said one of the stallions. "It does not belong to you. Give it to us."

"Don't be a fool. We know you have it." The strange, grey stallion stepped forward. "Give it to us, and we will let you live."

Big Mac frowned, looking at the strange ponies. "These th' dark magics you were worried about, Zecora?"

The zebra simply shook her head. "I feel it near, but kept at bay... I set up wards to keep it away..." She turned her attention to the stallions surrounding them, eying them warily. "These stallions arrived a few minutes ago... though they are different... how, I don't know..."

"Last chance" shouted the pony who seemed to be leading the little group, "Give us the book, or we will take it from you." Macintosh stared at the stallion a few moment, sticking his bottom lip out as if in deep thought.

The stallions surrounding them began to walk in slow circles. "Very well then." The leader simply grinned. "Gentlemen, we have our orders. No survivors."

At that, Macintosh saw motion in the corner of his eye. He turned to see one of the stallions charge him, pulling a sword from beneath his cloak, clenching it between his teeth. His eyes went wide, realizing he had nothing to fight a sword with, and ducked, barely missing the sharp edge as it sailed over his head, slicing off the tips of a few of the hairs on his mane. Pushed by adrenaline, he was quick to deliver a solid blow into the stallion's stomach, knocking the blade from his lips. Big Mac stepped aside, delivering a quick, powerful hoof-punch into the stallion's face, sending him rolling, before he noticed another charge him from behind. He held his rear hooves up, pulling his body in like a spring, before releasing, delivering a powerful apple buck to the stallion's face and sending him flying backwards.

Zecora jumped over one of the stallions as he charged her, delivering a kick to his face and making him stumble backwards. Another rushed towards her, sword drawn, and she ducked below his swing, delivering a quick jab to his throat, causing him to choke, dropping his blade and stumbling backwards, hooves over his neck as he coughed and gagged, not defending from the flying hoof-kick to his face that would throw him backwards. Another jumped into the air, doing a flip with a hind-leg extended, ready to heel-drop her, but she grabbed his hoof and threw him backwards. As he stumbled to regain his composure, she threw several quick jabs at various points of his body, striking pressure points. The stallion froze up, his muscles locked, and fell to his side, unable to move.

Macintosh turned for just a moment to appreciate the mare's fighting prowess, when he turned to see one of his attackers lunge at him, sword ready. He jumped to the side, but he wasn't fast enough; the blade sliced at his flesh, and though he managed to avoid the worst of it, he hissed and winced in recognition of a wound being made. He held his leg up, cursing that he was wearing a coat that made it impossible to tell how bad the wound was, and that the rain was making it difficult to see, but he didn't feel as though the wound was too serious. The stallion lunged again, slashing his sword, but Big Mac ducked, delivering a powerful upward thrust with his hoof, slamming the stallion's jaw onto his own blade, causing him to yelp and drop his sword, staggering backwards and putting his hooves over his mouth. "Ahh ff... I think you broke my teef!" He looked up, just in time, to see Macintosh rush forward and punch him in the face, knocking him out for the count.

Macintosh did not have long to appreciate his hard work, however, as several of the stallions jumped him at once, landing on top of him. He pushed, pulled, and yanked, trying to break free of them, before finally popping out and skidding across the dirt. The stallions climbed from each other, staring death at him. It was then that Macintosh had noticed Zecora dispatch the last of her own attackers.

Big Mac's eyes widened as Zecora pulled a book from her bag and started waving it in the air. "You'll have to catch my striped ass to get it!" The zebra turned about, and started to run away. The stallions turned, their attention no longer on Macintosh, and readied to chase after Zecora.

Big Mac was surprised that he was the one to utter those words, though he had no time to think about it as he jumped in the air and threw his weight about, hooves outstretched, delivering a powerful dropkick to one stallion, sending him tumbling against his comrades. The stallions stumbled over one another, but every time one of them stood up, Macintosh would punch or kick him again, sending him back to the ground. "Jus' stay down!"

Suddenly, one of the stallions sent a hoof upward, striking Big Mac in the jaw, forcing him to back-step. A swift kick to the face threw him backwards, sliding across the ground. Big Mac stumbled back to his feet, but another powerful kick to the face threw him backwards, and sent him rolling, slamming into a tree. He pulled himself to his hooves once more, but then, with blinding speed, he was slammed against the tree, a foreleg against his throat as an enraged stallion stared him in the eyes. It was then that Big Mac noticed that this particular stallion was sporting a pair of large, leathery, bat-like wings. His eyes went wide as he stared at the strange appendages.

The stallion threw Big Mac from the tree, sending him rolling towards two others, who grabbed him by both of his forelegs. It wasn't long before he felt his hooves leave the ground.

Big Mac began to struggle against his captors, pulling and kicking. "Nope! Nononono, put me down!"

They began to move forward, soaring picking up both speed and altitude. The further he got from the ground, the more Macintosh felt panic rise in his chest. "The ground! Put me back on the ground!" They did not listen; they kept flying higher and higher, and he could see the ground fall beneath him, his anxiety growing to the point he was afraid he might have been having a heart attack. Slowly, however, their descent stopped, and their speed slowed, if only a bit. Big Mac whimpered and began to hyperventilate, eyes darting around. 'I-I'm not too high! I can still see the trees! Even if I fell from here, I could be alright....'

That was a new voice. Macintosh felt himself thrown upward, his heart stopping for a moment as he spun and felt gravity pull him back down. He stopped, dangling upside down as hooves grabbed his hind-legs. He yelled and shouted, his voice already giving out, his chest heaving back and forth in absolute terror as he stared at the drop; it was moving, suggesting that the stallions were still flying forward. He turned his attention, however, and it was then that he realized something was flying next to them.

A dark chariot flew next to them, a large, round emerald, a cat-eye slit in the middle, adorning the front, lavender decor making it seem imposing, yet elegant. The chariot itself was pulled by two more of the strange, bat-winged, pegasus-like bat-ponies, and its sole occupant wore a thick, black cloak. They turned to look at him, and Macintosh was surprised to see that he could not make out a single detail beneath the hood; save for one. A long, black horn protruding from underneath the covering. The figure stared at him, silently. "Does he have the book?" The voice was definitely a mare, far as Mac could tell.

"No, my queen" said one of the stallions. "The zebra has it, and she fled. The others are below, likely already on her tail."

She hummed, staring silently at Big Mac. "He is of no importance then. Do as you will." A chuckle that emanated from the two stallions made Macintosh's panic return, his chest heaving as they flew even faster. The rain pelted his face, stinging with each drop.

"You shoulda just did what we asked. We would have kept to our word and left you alone."

Their speed continued to increase. Macintosh felt his body tilt back against the wind, his heart thundering in betwixt his lungs. He had never been so terrified before in his life, far as he could remember; he was even too terrified to faint! But that wasn't the worst of it.

For a moment, he was completely cold, empty even. For but a brief moment, there was nothing. That moment that his brain tried to register just what was happening. He watched as he seemed to stay airborne for a few scant seconds, before he began to descend. Then, the realization hit him. The realization of what was happening finally came, and at that moment, Big Macintosh screamed. He screamed loud, louder than he had ever screamed before. So loud that his voice quickly gave out, devolving into a tired cry that poured from his vocals as he plummeted towards the trees below. He flailed his hooves helplessly, as if he might grab something or spontaneously learn to fly, but it was useless, and deep down, he knew it to be so.

He fell through the treeline, slamming hard into a branch, breaking it in the process and, bouncing from another one, slamming into a tree nearby. He fell, striking another branch, though this one stood strong; instead, he rolled off from it, dropping a few feet before finally slamming into the ground hard, throwing dust and debris around him.

There he lay. Motionless. Defeated. He stared into the darkness of the woods. Eyes tired. Spirit empty. A few droplets falling into the dirt beneath his face, dripping from his eyes. The world was a blur, details lost to the building liquid in his eyes, born of terror. He heard no sound, so he wasn't sure if he could make anything out anymore. Macintosh tried to move, but his body would not respond to his commands; his limbs lay still, as if he had done nothing at all. He tried to speak, but his throat was fed up with all the effort. He lay there, completely broken, defeated, staring into a vortex of muted, dark colors as darkness crept further along the edges of his vision.

As he lay there, eyes wet with tears he wished to deny, a terrible thought crossed his mind. A thought that terrified him only slightly less than the actual fall.

He lay there, unable to do much more than blink, if even that, pondering upon this question. Indeed, he could not move. Indeed, he wasn't even sure he was breathing anymore. This question rang through his head continuously, until something in his broken, blurry vision shifted, something that stood out among all the mixed, muted hues.

Slowly, one of the blurs was growing. It was coming closer. Something was coming towards him. Tired though he was, he was desperate to live.

His mouth moved, but nothing came out. He wanted to say the words, but his throat wasn't allowing it anymore.

A few more tears left his eyes as he stared at a blur that he could not identify. He thought of his family, of his grandmother, of his sisters. He thought of how sad they would be if he never came home. A fire burned in his chest, though his body failed to acknowledge it. His strength was fading fast, and as the blur reached him, he could only make out a vaguely pony-shaped being. He pleaded once more, his mouth moving tiredly, voicelessly, begging to be saved.

Macintosh tried to keep his eyes open, but the struggle was lost. He could fight no more, and finally sank into darkness, his thoughts before doing so focused on the family he loved.

TO BE CONTINUED...

A World Without Princesses

by PonyTom

Chapter 5 - Dark Skies