Chapter four: Seeing Red
Snap.
Why had he done that?
Snap.
Fluttershy was only trying to help. She didn’t deserve to be driven away.
Snap.
He was clearly struggling with a problem larger than anything he had ever faced, and she had chosen to stay by his side and offer her wisdom. But like any true villain, he had let her exhaust her own reason before striking back while she was weakened.
Snap.
This wasn’t working. Clearly he needed to do something differently.
Scratch.
A thin, jagged line trailed behind Discord’s outstretched claw as he ran it across the tree’s bark. His cut barely went deep at all, but it still caused a noticeable change - something he had desperately been trying to do. Now there was proof that he had been there, and nobody could say differently.
At least, for the time being. The tree’s bark would eventually recover and remove all evidence of the scratch.
Well, there was a way around that, too. Discord extended the rest of his claws, reared back, and gave a quick swipe at a nearby limb. Several leaves shook and a few twigs snapped, but most importantly were the clean gashes that ran nearly two inches long. These, too, were not that deep, but it was much more than a simple errant line in the bark. This was damage.
Discord paused. Hmph, another irony had presented itself. The tree, though inanimate, had only stood as a support for him in the last hour. Now he was attacking it simply for what it was doing. Just like he had done to Fluttershy.
He growled.
Swipe.
Three more cuts, deeper this time. His claws began to ache.
The heat of anger that had been building in him throughout the day had begun to spark. Discord saw fault in everything around him, whether it was pony or otherwise. Fluttershy had merely been the first to meet his ire. Not long after she had fled, Discord had directed the heat toward other things - things that, like Fluttershy before them, didn’t deserve what they received. The ground was stamped flat in a spot that resembled his cloven hoof. A nearby stone had been jabbed into the dirt, like a monument to his actions. The tree was next, and he wondered why he had not started with it. After all, it was bigger than him.
Another set of three cuts joined the rest, and this time were accompanied by the sight of green, healthy leaves being forced from their buds. More damage. More proof.
But really, what else could he do? With no magic to speak of and change being in his nature, Discord needed to find an outlet for his calling. Since he couldn’t use his imagination, he had to use his body. Physical changes were still changes, and they were certain to give him some satisfaction.
Swipe. Nine cuts became twelve. The bark on the limb began to shred. Healthy wood was exposed.
Except the satisfaction didn’t come, or if it did it was of a different taste. Discord felt himself grinning, but it was not like his usual mischievous smirk. This was uncomfortable. Grim, with clenched teeth, and wound tight like a watch. He decided ‘mechanical’ was a proper way to describe it, and indeed the taste he experienced was metallic and bitter.
No, wait. It was blood, let loose from his claws and flung into his mouth. More of it was flecked across his snout and body. He stared at his eagle-hand in a stoic realization, like he didn’t really know how to respond. Didn’t ponies usually seek aid when they were wounded?
Fluttershy would help him. He could seek her out, despite his biting words to her from an hour ago, and show her the damaged skin and cracking claws. She would push him along toward her cottage, where she would pull out one of her many first-aid kits specialized toward helping animals. She would dab away the blood, apply alcohol and bandages, and insist he refrain from using his hand for a week or more. She would do all of that without hesitation, and he knew it.
But instead, Discord simply let his claws fall to his side, where they dripped his blood onto the dirt. It pooled into one spot, once again showing that he had been there. Proof of his existence.
The tree was definitely changed now. The limb he had victimized was riddled with a dozen cuts of varying degree. Branches had become spotty at having their leaves torn away. Smaller twigs had been snapped off, joining the fallen leaves on the ground. All of it was proof that he had been there.
Discord could do more.
He clenched his lion-hand into a fist and reared back once again.
Slam.
Shards of bark punctured his fur as the impact sent a strong, unpleasant vibration along his arm. Small dots of blood, this time from his other hand, marked the place on the tree limb. Rivulets ran along his fingers and seeped to his palm. The very sensation made him angrier.
It was a hot anger, a dry anger, one that left his throat burning and his eyes narrow. He glared at the spots of red on the branch. Several pieces of the shredded bark had fallen, revealing more of the wood underneath. He was angry at the wood.
With a grunt, he delivered another punishing blow to the unforgiving bough. The splinters that were stuck in his hand were pushed deeper. Nearly all of the ruined bark was knocked loose, fully showing off the clawed wood and the smeared blood. It was a bald patch in an otherwise healthy tree. He was angry at the branch.
Discord moved further along the branch and put both his hands against it, then pushed forward. The limb swayed, but didn’t give any quarter. He growled and pushed harder, leaning all of his weight into it. He wanted the tree to change. Not just something temporary like a small scratch, or even something that could be missed like a patch of stripped bark. He wanted real change, something permanent, that would last long after the blood had washed away and the leaves were carried by the breeze. He was angry at the tree, and he wanted it to change.
But it didn’t.
Discord could not change the appearance of the tree more than he had already done. He pushed and growled and bled, but the limb remained strong. The tree remained unchanged. And that only served to make him angrier.
A few minutes passed, then Discord gave up. He fell against the branch, throwing one arm around it while letting the other dangle. He stood there for a long time, doing nothing except breathe heavily and bleed, relying entirely on the limb for support. Just as the tree had done without complaint. The only reason he finally moved was because of his hands. The pain was finally making itself known.
Slowly, he inspected the damage he had done to himself. His paw was swollen and stained due to several splinters lodging inside. Some pieces were alarmingly large, and might leave scars. It hurt him to just move his fingers at all. His eagle-hand, however, was nearly mangled. Each claw was broken at the tip and cracked along the side, but worse was the skin above. The fingers had been partially shredded due to the edges of the bark. Any deeper, and Discord might have exposed nerves. Perhaps he had already done so - it was impossible to tell beneath the rivulets of red.
Discord gently pushed himself away from the offending branch. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry at his hands. Despite the pain radiating from either one, they had both done what he sought. They had both changed. It wasn’t what he had in mind, but he found it welcoming. He decided that red was a good color on him. Although, maybe he went a little too far in his fury.
He glanced at the branch he had damaged. The scarred patch of wood was lined with blood as well. The edges of the bark were tipped with red. There was even red in several distinct spots along the limb, each shaped like one of his hands. Such evidence would not be easily ignored by those who saw it.
Maybe that would be enough.
He couldn’t say.
But it still didn’t change the facts. Discord realized this, and he felt the hot anger crawl up his spine once more. Worse still, he regained some of his sense, just enough to realize what he had done. His hands were torn and bloody messes. His right arm was sore from the punching. He had assaulted a tree, for goodness sake. What good could come from that?
And what did he have to show for it? A temper tantrum that left him needing stitches.
Gingerly, he lifted his lion-hand up and ran his fingers along the scarred wood. More blots of blood formed from the contact, smearing his own essence. This evidence would have to do for now, even though it would eventually grow back. His arm fell. Any new bark might cave from the damage, and ponies looking closely would see the difference...but over time, they would stop asking how or why. They would stop wondering. Stop worrying.
They would forget about it.
They would forget about him.
Discord spent a long time gazing at the change he had wrought. His anger subsided into numbness, and the heat and dryness left him unmoving. He simply stood there, gazing at the victimized limb, as the smears and flecks of blood dried to a crust. He would have stayed there for all of the approaching evening, and perhaps through the night.
But it was around dusk that Fluttershy returned.