It had taken me an hour to get back to my cottage after my encounter with that creature. During the trip, I had asked Mr. Otter if he could tell me anything about what the two of us had witnessed. It turns out that he did have information, even if did admit that the majority of it was gossip.
For one, the creature had actually been around for a long time. So long, in fact that only a few forest animals were still alive today when it first showed up. He also told me that its diet was made up of plant matter and fish, and that it seemed content with leaving all of the other animals alone. A mentality, that as Mr. Otter explained, was shared in kind. It was also nocturnal, and had many different areas to bed down in during the day.
That last bit of information grabbed my attention, if my animal friends that lived in Whitetail Woods searched those areas and showed me them, I would know where to go to so I could start helping it. Mr. Otter was a little reluctant at first when I told him that, but he did come around by the time we arrived back at my cottage.
I made an offer for him to spend the rest of the night at my home, but he declined, explaining that he would get to work on spreading the message through Whitetail Woods before he changed his mind.
Bidding him goodbye and good luck, I slung off my supply pack, and jumped into the shower.
As the warm water cascaded down over me and I took my time bathing myself, I felt my mind wander back to that plea for help in the creature’s gaze. The tears that I had restrained during the walk home now came out in full force, only to be washed away by the spray of the water as it bore down on me, and with soft sobs escaping from my throat.
Breaking down like this in a forest in the dead of night would not have been the right time or place. And as much as I still felt regret for the whole Iron Will experience, I’ll admit that if I hadn’t learned how to become assertive in my own way during it, I wouldn’t have been able to hold off the tears until now.
The tears ultimately ran dry, and I finished rinsing off, proceeded to dry my coat and mane, preen my feathers, and go to bed. But before I closed my eyes, I took note of the time. One-twenty five am, I tend to get up no later than six, and prefer to get up at five so I could tend to the multitude of my animal friends.
I had another task tomorrow in addition to what my morning rituals consisted of, seeing as how that creature was nocturnal, once my animal friends finished scouting and reported back to me, I wouldn’t have to waste time trying to track it down and go straight to wherever it decided to sleep.
But I wouldn’t be able to do so without rest. So I closed my eyes and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
I woke up feeling groggy, but that was to be expected, and it was nothing a few cups of black peach tea couldn’t fix. After finishing my morning rituals of feeding and tending to the animals that stayed at my cottage, and to my own hygiene afterword, I then spent my remaining time gathering supplies in a spare pack that I thought I might need.
In the end, I had packed a small stack of paper and several pencils, half a dozen doughnuts from Sugarcube Corner that were a day old yet no less appetizing, a spare blanket and pillow, several combs, and two entire bottles of dog shampoo.
Once that was done, and with nothing else better to do, I made myself and Angel lunch, and waited for any word from my animal friends who were no doubt scouting the entirety of Whitetail Woods.
It was a little past midday before a Ms. Thrush came to my cottage and tapped on the kitchen window, a sign that she had information to share with me. Opening the window and allowing her inside, I listened as she tweeted with a small look of triumph on my face. One of the rabbits had managed to find the creature and was waiting for me on the edge of Whitetail Woods.
Once again, I told Angel to mind the house, and slipping on my spare pack that I had…well, packed, I soon left and trotted back to Whitetail woods, following Ms. Thrush as she led me to where the rabbit was waiting.
I soon met up with the rabbit and we were off. The trip was uneventful, and I soon found myself in front of a large, moss-covered cliff side with a cave opening tucked away in it a little over a mile away from the beaver lake.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked my rabbit escort.
He nodded his head in conformation, and told me that when I was done, he would be waiting for me in brush that surrounded the cliff so he could escort me back.
Looking forward towards the mouth of the cave as light filtered into it, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, adjusted my pack, and trotted up and into the mouth of the cave.
“H-hello,” I asked in my naturally soft voice, “are you in there?”
I hadn’t moved once since that rabbit hopped off, there wasn’t any reason to. So, here I was, waiting for nightfall, or for the panicked, angry mob to find me and skin me while I was still alive, whichever came first. And then I heard it, just outside of the cave.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” a soft, and I guess what could be called pure and innocent feminine voice made its way to my ears.
Innocence. I scoffed internally at that word. There are things I have learned over my past life, and a few more that I’ve learned during my hundred years here. One of those lessons was that innocence does not exist: there is only ignorance.
Regardless, the next thing I heard was the soft rustling of natural litter that soon gave way to soft tocks of hooves hitting stone. Judging by the location of the sound, it was safe to assume that the owner of the voice was in the cave mouth. I could still escape, technically. But that would mean going out into the sunlight, and for me, death was preferable compared to the burning rays of the sun. That and they probably had ambushes set up for such a situation.
“H-hello, are you in there?” the voice asked what I can only assume was me directly.
Well, I guess there wasn’t much point in delaying what was inevitable. Drawing in a deep breath, I let loose another one of my howls. Either it would scare them off, or they would bull rush me as fast as the cave mouth would allow. If I had any, my money would have been on the latter. There was a pause before the clopping of hooves on rock echoed around the chamber. It appears that the owner of the voice took my howling as all the conformation they needed, and allowed themselves into my dwelling. I didn’t bother to see who it was, keeping my listless gaze facing the same direction that it had been all day.
“O-oh, I guess you are here. Hello sir, o-or miss, I-I’m sorry, I can’t really tell if you’re a stallion or a mare.” The voice stuttered.
Well, if she was going to delay the inevitable, the least she could do is call me by my proper gender.
“I’m male.” I responded, loud enough for my company to hear.
Or, rather, that’s what would have happened if the second I opened my mouth and tried to talk didn’t result in a sensation of extreme tearing pain from my throat right were my vocal chords were located. Needless to say, I immediately rolled over, got onto my knees and hands and started coughing, gaging, and quite frankly, gushing blood from my mouth for a handful of seconds before the bleeding stopped.
Well, what else should you have expected, you idiot? I berated myself in my own head; you haven’t talked in the hundred years you’ve been here!
Oh, and my small episode resulted in my current company screaming her head off. Why though? It’s not like any living soul would ever care about my wellbeing. Hell, even I didn’t want to care about my wellbeing. But I was unfortunately cursed with a very powerful self-preservation instinct, one that I couldn’t break no matter how hard I had tried.
“O-o-oh my gosh! W-what happened? A-are you going to be okay?” The owner of the voice…whisper-shouted…somehow.
As my blood started to seep into the cracks and down into the earth, my company quickly scrambled over to my head, just outside of the remaining pool of crimson, and into my vision. I didn’t have to look at her directly to recognize that pink, loose mane or the canary yellow her coat was made up of. And on that face of hers, blanched and teary-eyed, was concern. If she looked in a mirror or someone else bore witness to that expression, they would have called it genuine. I called it for what it was: a lie.
The pain in my throat was now completely gone, the chords must have healed themselves during the small, one-sided exchange. That was something else about my new body, whenever I was injured, I would heal at what could only be called unnaturally fast speeds. But that only applied to whenever I injured myself, or was harmed by the environment. Injuries inflicted on me by other living beings would heal at a more natural rate. But that was fine. After all, physical pain and I may not be very well acquainted, but it pales in comparison to my other hurts.
After I coughed out the last of the blood, I unceremoniously dropped onto my side, facing the yellow Pegasus as I came to a stop. I just lay there, seeing her without looking at her, feeling and yet not registering the cold, rough and yet slick with moisture rocks on my side.
At least she stopped screaming once she asked those questions of hers. Her face started to gain more color as what I assume the shock of what she had just seen dissipated from her, and yet that “concern” was still etched onto her face. She just waited there for a while, probably waiting for the rest of the shock to work its way out of her system.
Then, when her face fully regained its color, and her eyes had tears flowing from them freely, she unslung her pack and with a burst of her wings propelled herself onto me. I barely felt it when she connected to me. I expected a knife to be racked across my throat at any moment.
So imagine my befuddlement when instead of the kiss of cold metal, the only thing I registered was two small forelegs doing their best to hold onto my head in what I assumed was meant to be a comforting hug, and for an equally small face to bury itself in my left cheek. Then there was moistness, attached to muffled sobs and a shuttering frame.
But why? Was this yellow Pegasus truly so delusional that she managed to fully convince herself that such a thing as kindness actually existed? How incomprehensively naïve, bordering on the irredeemably stupid. If she thought she could truly change me, that a simple hug would somehow magically take away all of the hurt and darkness I’ve experienced in my past life and continue to hold within me in my current one, she would only be setting herself up for failure. But she would have to figure that out for herself, that is, if for some reason, the mob doesn’t tear me apart first.
While I was thinking about this, the yellow Pegasus had managed to calm herself down enough as to where she no longer held onto me like a limpet, but was instead petting fur on the side of my neck. It was just for her own comfort, I’m sure.
I took in a breath and sighed. I was starting to get exasperated now, what was the point in all of this? Couldn’t you just have the courtesy to call in your cohorts instead of pointlessly doing…whatever this was?
As fate would have it, I got my answer when she got off of me and walked back to her pack, glancing at me every third step as if I would cease to exist if she took her eyes off of me for too long.
I’ve been here for a hundred years, I thought, I’m not going to vanish just because you take your eyes off of me.
She was at the pack now, head inside, rummaging through it. When she pulled her head back out, she had in her mouth a small stack of paper and several pencils. Trotting back over to me, she stopped at a rock flat enough to act as a makeshift writing table and placed the sheets of paper on one side with the pencils on the other.
“I know you’re sapient, I can see it in your eyes. And I was hoping that you would know how to read and write. That way we could still talk to each other without speaking. Oh, and my name is Fluttershy.”
I’ll admit it was smart of her to plan ahead like that. Well, if nothing else, I could tell her my gender, and ask what the hell was taking so long.
Taking a pencil in my hand and making sure not to break it, I wrote down what I thought needed to be said.
‘I am male. Tell me, when do you plan on calling in the others so that you can kill me?’
The small look of triumph on Fluttershy’s face was quickly crushed when she read my question, and replaced in record time with a sickened expression.
“K-k-kill you? No! That’s not what I’m here to do! I didn’t even tell anyone you’re out here in Whitetail Woods! I’m by myself, honest!”
Honesty? In my experience, that concept is nothing more than mask others wear to hide their true intentions.
I wrote some more.
‘I don’t believe you. Why would you have attempted to find me if not for that reason?’
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that question. But as much as I hated to admit it, Fluttershy’s
response did leave me minutely curious, even if it was dishonest in nature.
At any rate, she sat down after reading my inquiry and proceeded to explain herself while looking me in the eye.
“When I encountered you last night, while you were crying on the end of the rock pier, I saw your eyes. I saw the pain and the sadness as clearly as I see it now. But I also saw something else in them: a silent screaming plea for help.”
Fluttershy’s voice started to crack at that last bit, and tears that made themselves absent soon came back in those blue eyes of hers.
“I-I couldn’t just ignore that. That’s why I’m here, to answer that cry for help.” She choked out.
As she spoke, I saw a certain weight make itself apparent on her shoulders. It wasn’t physical by any means, but that made the strain that much more difficult to bear, and she soon found herself lying on her stomach, weeping freely. And through the wailing, the coughing racking breath, and the red and puffy eyes, I just lay there. How could I offer her comfort if I haven’t felt it myself? And besides, she had no reason to try to bear my burdens.
Yet, as I watched Fluttershy crying without looking at her, an idea slowly took form in my mind. I didn’t trust her, and I didn’t believe her. But if she was serious about her own delusions, then I would humor her. For the next six months I would make this cave of mine my permanent home. If she wanted to “help” me as she claimed, then it would make her finding me far easier. But when she came to her senses and actually gathered another witch-hunt to come after me, at least then I would be able to die. Or maybe there wasn’t a bloodthirsty mob outside waiting to tear me into a thousand unidentifiable scraps. She could easily be a scout.
Fluttershy had stopped crying by this point, and proceeded to pick herself back up before using a spare sheet of paper and using it like a tissue. After that was done, she dragged herself back over to her pack and unpacked whatever she had in there.
Without anything better to do, I took note of the items she pulled out. I counted a spare blanket and pillow too small for me, a box of baked goods, and…shampoo and several combs? My expression never really changes all that much during the day, but Fluttershy must have somehow picked up on my unasked question.
“My animal friends told me that you eat nothing but fish and plants, so I thought that you would like something sweet for a change.” She explained, placing the box within my reach.
Baked goods mean nothing to me, I commented to myself, food only exists to fulfill a purpose, to provide fuel for one’s body; it doesn’t have to taste good. And that explains the rabbit from earlier.
Fluttershy continued, undeterred.
“I thought that you would like some extra bedding, but I forgot to take your size into account.” She admitted with a sheepish blush.
I can see that. I thought.
“And I noticed how matted your fur is, so I was hoping you would let me groom it for you? I-if you don’t mind that is.” She asked.
Still holding the pencil in my hand, I wrote down my response.
‘Don’t you have more important things to do than give me a bath? I can’t see myself being worth all this effort to anyone.’
Fluttershy shook her head at that and was quick to rebuttal my response.
“No, you’re the most important priority for me right now, and even if you don’t believe you’re worth it, I do.”
Another response, with the sound of graphite scraping against paper over an uneven surface.
‘I only go out at night, and it’s still daylight. Despite whatever you seem to think that you can do for me, I know that you can’t follow me everywhere. Sooner or later, you will have to go back to your home.’
“I know that,” confirmed Fluttershy, “but I would still like to try and straighten out your coat before I go. And besides, it will be night soon.”
She was right about that, the glow from the sun was now starting to diminish rapidly, and it would soon be dark out. Also, I would have to forage, and it had been a while since I had any fish in my diet. But before I could write this out to her, I heard a growl from Fluttershy’s midsection, which was accompanied by a blush on her face.
“Sorry, I guess I forgot to pack something for myself to eat, and it’s getting close to dinner for me.”
This warranted a change in what my response. Shifting my gaze without physically moving my eyes, I took note of the baked goods and gently pushed them toward her.
‘Eat then, I never did like sweets anyway. And before you deny it, I doubt I would be able to keep the sugar down, I’m just too used to bland food.’ I wrote.
Fluttershy opened her mouth to protest at that, but another, louder groan silenced her. She looked between me and the sugary confections several times before deciding to just roll with it. She opened the box and the contents were soon gone, with only a slight paunch to provide any clue as to where they went.
As she stifled a burp, I noticed that the glow of the sun was now fully gone. Even though I never truly want to get up, my self-preservation would not allow me to stay idle. So, I shifted myself and prepared to stand at my full height, but not before I wrote one final comment.
‘You are fooling yourself if you think you can truly help me, none can. One day, you will realize that some hurts cannot be healed.’
Not waiting for Fluttershy to respond, I got up and left the cave, but made sure to keep my strides short enough for her to follow if she chose to. Smelling the air, I took note that she did not gather a witch-hunt for me this time, but now that she knew where one of my dwellings was, it wouldn’t be long before word got out.
There was the sound of the shuffling of hooves on forest debris and patches of rock as Fluttershy raced to catch up to me due to my head start. It soon leveled out as she trotted by my side, her pack having been filled with items again if the odd rustle was any indication.
“How do you know that your hurts can’t be healed?”
I didn’t ignore her question so much as the fact that I couldn’t respond to it, at least not without going through another episode. At any rate, the rest of the trip to the lake was uneventful, and I soon came to a rocky part of the shore with Fluttershy still following me. I had found that the rocks extended well into the lake, and as a result it was the best place to get catfish.
Wasting little time, I waded in up to my lower chest while Fluttershy watched me form the shore, concern and worry still etched on her face, before she unslung her pack and flew her way over to me. Maybe she was worried that I would drown myself. Not likely, after all I didn’t have any intention of doing so last night when she had startled me, and I have no intention to do so here and now.
Taking a deep breath and ignoring her sounds of alarm, I dove beneath the surface, nictitating membranes covering my eyes to protect against any debris and provide proper focus to my surroundings. Feeling around the nooks and crannies in the rocks, I found what I was looking for and in one swift motion; I grabbed my quarry by the gills and punctured its heart with one of my claws. Blood pooled out from what I could see was a twenty pound blue catfish, large enough to keep me going, but not large enough to completely sate my hunger. The multitude of wild plants would make up for that.
Standing back up above the surface, I took in a deep breath as miniature waterfalls cascaded off of my coat and back into the lake, leaving only small droplets behind that I imagined caught the light of the stars as they clung to me. Ignoring this, I made my way back to shore with my catch before I proceeded to eat. I didn’t tear into it like a wild animal. I took my time, eating slowly not from restraint, but from a certain type of lethargy that cannot be described to those who haven’t felt it.
Fluttershy landed next to me and patiently waited for me to finish my meal. It took an hour or maybe a little more for that to happen, but when the final scraps of flesh disappeared down my throat, she spoke up.
“Will you let me groom you now?”
She was persistent, I’ll give her that. Fine, though. I needed to wash off the remains of my meal anyways. Turning back to the lake, I waded in until I was knee deep, then I lowered myself until I was sitting on the bottom of the rocky bed. Taking water in my hands, I splashed my mouth and throat until they were rinsed clean. Then, getting back up and walking back to the shallows, I laid down on my stomach with my head resting on the bank twitching my left ear at Fluttershy.
Thankfully, she understood the gesture, and was soon rubbing me down with shampoo. I had never tried maintaining my coat aside from washing off any excess debris that seems to be attracted to it like a magnet. So it came as a bit of a surprise when the matted fur was combed out with virtually no effort on her part.
Fluttershy continued to bathe me in the waters of the beaver lake, at times hovering above the surface to prevent getting her wings wet, and at others actually standing on my back with her small hooves rubbing in the hygienic product before straightening out my coat and rinsing it off. I wasn’t keeping track of time as she did this, nor did I find any comfort or relaxation in it. As I stated before, I had no trust in her, nor did I believe she was genuine in her efforts to help me. I guess that was part of the reason why I allowed her to touch me: a hope for death coupled with the lack of motivation to get her to stop.
Still, I had to admit that I would likely not die this night. Fluttershy didn’t seem to be carrying a knife or any other kind of weapon on her, but nothing was stopping her from telling the others that I was out here, or from rectifying her mistake at a later date.
I hadn’t been paying attention to the time, but my impromptu bathing session came to a close before long. My back, sides, and the top of my head were now free of matts, but my stomach, legs, arms, and tail were still like they were before. At any rate, Fluttershy was now sitting on the bank less than a foot from my nose with an apologetic look on her face.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get the rest of your coat, but I used up all of the shampoo I brought with me.”
Slowly, I got up to my full height and walked back to the rock pier where we had first met, with Fluttershy trailing behind me after she had reslung her pack over her shoulders. Walking to the end of it, I crouched down on all fours and stared out over the expanse of the water. The trees that lined the edge of the woods had yet to get their full growth in; it was still spring after all, as evidenced by the lukewarm crisp in the air. Behind me were the cattails that Fluttershy managed to sneak up on me with, and near the center of the lake I could make out several beaver dams. The night sky was crisp and clear as it usually was, with the multitude of stars spread across its expanse glittering as if an artisan took the dust of a thousand diamonds and blew them into the air, where they stay suspended by some force beyond ones comprehension. The lake’s surface was still to the point where it almost resembled a sheet of glass as it usually was most nights this time of the year, providing the illusion that it was made of stars as they were reflected by the night sky.
It was beautiful, but it always seemed to have a certain measure of sadness, as if it was a piece of art in a museum that deserved to be seen for its beauty, but to only be kept in storage because no one ever saw what it was truly worth, only that they passed it by without a second glance.
Similar to myself in some respects, but vastly different in others.
I heard the soft tocks of small hooves coming up from behind me, and the shifting of weight as Fluttershy sat next to me. There was a small gasp as she beheld the sight before us, followed by a certain measure of awed silence as she attempted to digest it. For my part, I kept my silence, not like I could say anything anyways. It stayed that way for a brief time, with me still feeling the crushing weight on my being, and with her to awestruck to do anything else. But that ultimately came to an end when the quiet was broken by a voice by my side.
“I-I’m sorry,” Fluttershy said with a tone that said that she didn’t want to leave, “but I have to go back to my cottage.”
“Before I do though, would you maybe tell me your name?” she asked, taking out a sheet of paper and the same pencil I used earlier.
Not an unreasonable request, so I obliged, with the sound of graphite on compressed wood fibers. Only for letters were necessary, and if she wanted to know what the meaning of my name was, she would have to look it up for herself.
‘My name is Dolor.’
Fluttershy read it a bit more quickly than I thought she would, soon turning her attention back to me after she put back the paper and pencil.
I had expected her to leave after addressing me once again, but what I did not expect was for her to rear up on her hind legs and hug my neck as well as she could with our differences in height.
“I don’t know what caused that look in your eyes,” she whispered, “but I won’t stop helping you until it has been replaced with a better one.”
My only response was to sigh as Fluttershy removed herself from my neck and trotted away from me. But I could tell that by the way her hooves were falling, she wanted nothing more than to come back and stay by my side. In short order, they faded into the distance, bound for her own home.
Once I was sure she would not be coming back this night, I lowered my head and took stock of my reflection. My gaze that I had come to know so well in the hundred years I’ve been here stared back at me unchanged. My vision became blurry as tears started to roll down my muzzle only to be interrupted by the silhouette of a large, purple winged unicorn with a flowing, star-studded mane and some type of what I assume was patchwork armor and a black tiara on her head right behind her three-foot horn.
Snapping my head up to her location in the sky, I felt a certain calm wash over me as she descended to land on the same pier that I was currently crouched on.
As I turned around to look into those blue eyes of hers, I couldn’t think that maybe, just maybe, the reaper had finally filed my application.
“Greeting creature,” she addressed me in a soft tone, “I am Princess Luna, Keeper of the Night and Guardian of Dreams.”
The calm that had settled over me dissipated at hearing her name and titles. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that the grim reaper would have trolled me like that. But damn if it wasn’t crushing regardless.