Outland

by Dafaddah

Courting Trouble

As usual after his swim, Shad masked his scent with plant rubbings, and then gathered dried wood for the fire and flowers for tomorrow’s breakfast. He was having a perfectly ordinary day, doing what he normally did. He climbed the ridge and surveyed the lake in the distance.

He froze mid-step. Something felt wrong! The only sound was the breeze through the leaves. It was...

A quiet!

On alert, he closed his eyes, devoting his full attention to his sense of smell. His flaring nostrils where the only part of him that showed any evidence of life.

There!

It took him a moment to place the scent. It was one he associated to the swamps, an acrid smell that had no place here atop the ridge. There was also another scent on the wind, faint, but different from the first.

Altering his focus to his ears, he noticed a gap in the hubbub of the forest to his left and slightly behind him. His heart beat faster as he grew more certain by the moment that he was being watched and probably hunted.

Knowing better than to look in the direction of the quiet, Shad paced slowly towards a thick copse of trees along the path that led down from the ridge. His ears swiveled to the rear. He had barely taken four steps when a twig snapped.

Already primed for trouble, Shad dove left to the ground and towards the copse of trees. He heard more than felt an impact on his right flank as he slid in the dust several ponylengths. Propelled by the impact, he came to a stop at the top of an inclined path that led down to the water's edge.

Rising to all fours, Shad galloped down the dangerously steep trail. He didn’t stop to look back, nor did he when a furious below issued forth behind him. Turning a bend in the path, he threw himself through a low gap in the underbrush and rolled in almost perfect silence to his hooves, where he stood stock still, as if one of the critter statues of the forest. His heart pounded in dread.

Shad knew to be patient when a predator was stalking. He waited thus hidden for close to a half hour, and was just about ready to leave when he heard something he hadn’t in a very long time. His ears turned towards its source. It had almost sounded like... Shad’s heart skipped a beat and he turned his head back up towards the ridge. Cautiously, he took a few steps, wary of every slight sound and scent.

Back on the path, he still hadn’t heard the voice again. The breeze brought back the swamp smell, as well as that other scent. Like the sound that came before it, it stirred something deep within him.

Not trusting his memory, he forced his breathing to settle down, pulling a long draught of air in through his muzzle. There it was again, that faint smell, almost lost under the rich mix of odors the wind brought to his flaring nostrils. The forest hid many beasts, each with its own distinctive smell. This scent was very different, but still, something about it stirred a longing in within him.

That’s when he heard the second shout. A shout like he had only heard Momma make. Everything she had taught him told him to run, but he could not bring himself to do it. He had to know what critter had made those shouts. Resolutely, he gazed up the slope and silently made his way upward.

The clearing in the forest was roughly circular, with a diameter of some ten pony-lengths. Grasses and flowers grew barely knee high, fading into shrubs at its border. Zecora examined its periphery closely, then nodded to herself.

“This lonely glade is the perfect size. Now to lure inside my prize!”

She took a special jar from her saddlebags, placing it in the middle of the clearing, and then pulled the cover off. Immediately a foul pang rose from the small container.

“A stench that would turn stomachs most hardy, calls the lady basilisk to the party!” she intoned with a wry smile. Saying an invocation over the pot wasn't really necessary, but she did enjoy the irony of using a predator’s nature against it. The basilisk that pursued this enticing perfume would find something other than a potential mate awaiting!

From her saddlebags she took out her mirror and the small hoof sized ball. Basilisks were hard to kill, but equally slow to recover from a massive blow, a fact that she was counting on, as her objective required catching one alive.

“Don’t be shy, my big green cow. It’s your turn to be milked now!” She snickered. She had said the words on previous successful hunts. The phrase had become a good luck charm of sorts, and she needed both luck and skill to pull this off!

Zecora hid in a thicket, and waited with the patience of the hunter. Carefully extracting a daffodil sandwich from her saddlebags, she munched silently while she waited.

She was still brushing bread crumbs from her hooves when sounds in the bush betrayed the approach of a large animal.

Zecora’s ears pricked up in concern. That the creature would approach so noisily meant it was probably agitated, and thus far more likely to be dangerous than one bearing merely amorous intents. Either the lure was faulty, or something else had upset the creature. Whatever the case, at least it was arriving from the opposite side of the clearing. She turned her back to it and raised her mirror, using it to quickly scan the forest.

A moment later there was a crash and a large female basilisk emerged from the undergrowth. It flicked it’s tongue, tasting the air left and right, obviously expectant. Nevertheless, it advanced on the jar in the middle of clearing and stopped in confusion, looking for the male basilisk whose enticing aroma permeated the air above it.

Zecora backed out of the thicket. She needed to throw the ball at just the right spot to stun the creature, so she could milk its poison glands safely while it lay unconscious. The best strike would be to either side of its head where small holes denoted the openings of its ear canals.

She cantered carefully to the side, keeping the basilisk in view in her mirror. The trick was to wait until the beast looked away to strike, usually not so difficult when it was distracted by the search for a mate. However this creature seemed not to have any illusions that there were love prospects present, and focused her attention entirely on the zebra mare moving quickly around the edge of the clearing.

Normally, Zecora had the advantage of speed with such a huge monster. This one, however, was more canny than most and seemed content to simply rotate in place, keeping its face towards her while periodically lunging a step or two forward in order to strike at her with its tail.

Zecora danced out of the way, easily avoiding strike after strike despite the limited field of view afforded by the mirror. She stopped and abruptly reversed directions. The beast was confused a moment, but quickly responded and turned its head back towards her.

Several minutes later, she still hadn’t had a clear shot at the beast. She had to admit she was getting winded, and she was wondering if it would be wiser for her to retreat into the forest. That was when the creature again showed a canniness uncommon for its kind. It moved its head to one side of Zecora while striking with its tail on the other. The pincer movement surprised her, and the beast’s tail struck the mirror from her hoof.

Zecora had always prided herself on being able to keep a cool head. It took all of her willpower to not turn around. Instead, she tried to keep the monster in her peripheral vision while she plotted the best course into the bush to retrieve her mirror. That was when she saw a tiny reddish-brown muzzle topped with large hazel eyes, peeking through the leaves at the clearing’s edge. For the barest fraction of a second she froze.

The momentary hesitation was all the basilisk needed. Zecora felt a crushing impact on the side of her head, and saw her saddlebags spinning off into the bush. Her next impression was of wild grasses on her face, and then everything went dark.

Shad slipped through the bushes and thickets, hearing the sounds of a serious scuffle. Peeking under a branch he finally saw the sources of all the noise. It was a long, low monster, with a greenish hairless skin and legs with huge claws splayed out to its sides. He knew immediately to avert his eyes from looking towards its head. It was a basilisk, and fighting it was a pony!

The pony was big, and striped black and white. It wore shiny rings on its neck and its left foreleg, and it wasn't looking at the creature! It stood on its hind legs with its back turned to the monster and kept its eyes on a large, flat, oval object clasped in one hoof, while holding a small ball in the other. The pony jumped out of the way whenever the monster lunged.

For several long heartbeats, he stood frozen, unsure what to do. Then, the monster whipped it’s tail to the left while leaping to the pony’s right. The tip of its tail neatly hit the oval object and sent it flying off into the bushes. The pony did not dare look at the monster’s face. It probably knew that the monster could turn critters to stone if they looked it in the eye.

The pony turned in his direction. He saw its eyes grow wide. Just then, the monster lunged and its tail hit the pony on its head, sending it crashing to the ground. The ball the pony had been holding dropped from its hoof and rolled to a stop inches away from his own.

Shad trembled. His heart beat furiously as the monster advanced on the prone form of the pony.

No! No, no, no, NO!

There was nothing at hoof he could use, no stone or even a broken tree limb. He saw the ball the pony had dropped. He didn’t think, he just picked it up and screamed in rage. The monster froze mid step. It answered his shout with a roar of its own. Knowing he might have only a moment before it closed its mouth and he was turned to stone, he threw the ball as hard as he could in the direction of the monster’s head, while diving backwards into the thicket.

There was a flash, and then a muffled thud that he felt at much as heard.

A moment later, the monster screeched so loud that it hurt his ears, and through his hooves as much as his ears, he felt the monster crash through the bush as it thundered away.

Shad picked himself up carefully, and warily approached the prone pony. A cold sweat washed over him and left him shivering as he crept closer.

Please be alive! he thought.

There was no blood. The tightness in his barrel relaxed a bit, and he was able to draw in a shuddering breath.

Up close, the pony seemed a bit smaller than he remembered Momma to be. Ever alert, he turned an ear towards the sound of the retreating monster. It wasn’t decreasing anymore. He turned both ears in its direction. The noise of its passage seemed to be getting louder again! The monster was coming back!

Shad knew he had only seconds to act. The pony was much bigger than he was, but he was strong, Momma had always said so. He wedged his head beneath its withers and pushed himself under. With a heave he rose shakily onto all fours, the pony’s weight settling onto his back, though its legs and head trailed in the grass.

Momma had taught him what to do when he couldn’t gallop away and was hunted by something bigger than he was. Shad knew where to go, and was grateful that it wasn’t too far. After scary minute, he pulled the pony into a low thicket between two large plants, making sure neither he nor the pony touched their wide thick leaves. Just beyond the plants, he halted and tried to catch his breath.

The monster came clomping back through the forest, not even bothering to mask its impending arrival. No doubt it was following their scent, as he had hoped it would.

Sensing their presence nearby, the monster grew more cautious and slowed its advance.

The monster has to stay mad! he thought. Taking a deep breath, Shad let forth another loud shout with all the defiance he had in him.

The monster answered with its own cry of rage. Emboldened by hearing only a colt’s voice, it rushed towards them.

Shad stood his ground, legs shaking. Just as the tree branches above him trembled, shedding leaves on him and the pony, there was a flurry of whistling sounds and loud snaps. The monster bellowed again, this time in pain and frustration.

It's caught!

Shad frantically scuttled out from the underbrush with the pony still draped over his back. He dared not look back lest the monster’s gaze turn him to stone. Either the snakeplants had ensnared the monster good, or he and the pony would soon be dead. He galloped for all he was worth, putting as much distance between them and the monster as possible before it broke free of the snakeplants.