Seven apples on a witch's tree.
Chapter published 28th Sept 2014
***********
June 1230AC
Deep within the Everfree Forest, unexpected occurrences were not to be... unexpected. What was about to occur, however, was a little more unexpected than most.
The darkness of the early morning hours was rudely interrupted, prismatically spilt, as a single tiny point of light suddenly appeared many body-lengths above the ground. Leaves on the nearmost tree branches were alternately pulled towards, then pushed away from, this point of light as it grew, slowly at first, then popping out to form a ring of light almost two body-lengths across.
Licks of magical energy arced from the ring, scorching any leaves that came too close, igniting any that somehow survived the scorching and ended up any closer. Ribbons of coloured energy - writhing bands of cerulean and turquoise, cobalt blue and pale heliotrope - weaved their way around the edge of the ring, twisting and turning around each other. Bright colours played their way across the dull browns and greens of the forest as each of the ribbons fought for dominance.
The air inside the ring shimmered, turning at first cloudy, then more akin to the surface of a large pan of bubbling water.
The power output of the ring increased, arcs of magical energy flying free from the maelstrom, touching down far from their point of origin. Wherever the arcs ended their short yet tumultuous journeys foliage popped and burned, flash fried by the sheer amount of thaumic energy bleeding off into whatever it touched, converted into light and sound and heat as it dissipated across the surface of Equestria.
From the bubbling mass held in the eye of the ring, a large object erupted, travelling at speed, arcing through the air of this warm summer night. The object, a figure, hit the ground hard, rolling through the undergrowth for quite a ways before coming to rest against the base of a old, gnarled oak tree.
Within seconds of depositing its payload, the ring had lost its ribbons of colour, compressing itself back down to a single point of light again before winking out of existence. After less than a minute since it had first appeared, all that was left to betray the fact that the ring had ever existed were several scorched patches of forest and a waft of ash smoke that floated away on the gentle night breeze.
Well, that and the naked figure still laying underneath a tree.
Seconds passed, followed by minutes, before the figure stirred.
An eye opened, followed by another. Golden eyes took in the surroundings.
Fingers grasped at rough bark and low hanging branches as the newcomer pulled herself to her feet.
With the ring gone, all that was left to bring light to the undergrowth was what few rays the full moon pushed down between the forest’s branches. It was not much, but still more than enough; she had lived in darker environs than this.
Lifting her face to the sky, what sky she could see, long auburn hair swept across her back, playing across naked skin the colour of sun burnt sand. She sniffed at the air, turning her head to better catch the breeze.
In this form her nose wasn’t as good as it could be, but it would do. There was civilisation far to the north east, nothing but more forest in the other directions... no, there was something to the south.
Not now, maybe later.
As she considered the scents and smells, her eyes watched the stars, watched them as they moved, movement so imperceptibly slow that most would never see the way that they danced, could not pierce the curtain hiding the underlying magic behind their being, seeing the naked truth with their own orbs. Normal eyes could not see what she saw, could not hear what she heard, could not sense what she sensed... but she was anything but normal.
Dawn was only a few hours away, she should move.
Slowly she headed north, unsteady on her feet at first but quickly becoming more stable. A shuffle became a walk, a walk became a stride, a stride became a run.
Dawn approached; the moon falling, the stars trailing in its wake like the needy children that they were. The sun arose; claiming the sky, bringing the day.
Fingers curled, compressed, retreated, reformed. Toes pulled back inside hooves, sand coloured fur flowed its way over sand coloured skin. Ears moved, teeth flattened, eyes widened. Terminology changed just as the form did the same. Shoulders to withers, feet and hands to hooves. Biped to quadruped.
From within the darkness of the treeline the pony burst her way out onto rolling pastures, low grasses brushing around her ankles as her movements came to a halt.
Sniffing the air at her leisure, watching the sun as it carried on with its merry dance, completely unaware of her presence, she chose her destination
At no more than a casual trot, she set off towards the nearest town.