//------------------------------// // Chapter 7: Storm // Story: CiderCon Chronicles // by SSCiderConOfficial //------------------------------// CiderCon Chronicles Chapter 7: Storm "...remember, the storm is a good opportunity for the pine and the cypress to show their strength and stability..." - Good Roots, Arborist The changeling was running through a dense forest alone on a dark, moonless night. Around him in the darkness an army of thick, black, thorny vines wound it's way ceaselessly towards him. They wound over and around everything in their path, leaving only darkness in their wake. Although his fear of the vines was great, what drove his legs to run was the goal ahead of him. He didn't know yet what it was, only that it was imperative that he reach it. He ran on, dodging and leaping obstacles. Instinct guided his feet towards his goal. He felt the vines snaking ever closer, and picked up his pace. Suddenly, he was there. There, huddled in the darkness, were Bramley and Warm Welcome. They held one another in wordless fear of the vines that now encircled them. The changeling walked over and quietly sat down next to Bramley. Now that he had reached his goal, the horror of the situation washed over him. The three of them sat in the midst of a veritable sea of encroaching thorns. As far as they could see, nothing but vines existed. He looked at Bramley and Warm Welcome and saw the unabashed fear in their eyes. He leaned closer and put his hooves around them. The three of them huddled together in impotent fear as the vines closed in. Thunder roared, a peal loud enough to shake the ground. He awoke from the nightmare with a start, and sat bolt upright. He looked around, utterly disoriented. He was in a bed in a darkened room somewhere. It was night. There was a storm raging outside. He struggled to piece things together. He remembered being in the gully and the confrontation with Bramley's Parent (he couldn't bring himself to use the term "Mother"). He remembered passing out. The events in the dark forest with the vines had, apparently, been a nightmare. He must have been brought here (wherever that was) while he was unconscious, and he must have been out for quite a while because it was early afternoon when the events at the gully happened. As the initial shock wore off, he began to notice more details about his surroundings. On the bedside table was a framed photo of a group of colts and fillies arranged in rows with a older mare standing beside them. In front of the first row was a sign that read "Miss Slate - First Grade". He spotted, amongst the group of 10 or so, a colt that was undeniably a younger version of Bramley. Across the room, atop a chest of drawers, was a photograph of Bramley's (what did he call her?) “mama” grinning from ear to ear holding a "pie" in one hand and a ribbon with the words "1ST PLACE" in the other. "So this must be their house." he thought to himself, as he could think of no good reason for a stranger to have pictures of another family. For several minutes he sat there, unsure of what to do next. He collapsed before Warm Welcome had her change of heart so, as far as he knew, she was still fearful and angry. On the other hoof, though, he was in their house so that was a good sign. Also encouraging was the fact that he wasn't tied to the bed or otherwise restrained. He tried for several minutes to listen for sounds of movement or voices from the rest of the house, but the rain and wind buffeting the house made it impossible to hear beyond his room. At last he decided to get out of bed and investigate. He slid out from under the covers and placed his back hooves on the floor. He winced as the floorboards creaked loudly. He crept to the door and tried the knob. It wasn't locked, and he took that as a good sign. He opened the door, and peered out. The room that he was in was at the end of the hall at the top of a staircase. To his right, and across the hallway were two other doors that he assumed were other sleeping rooms. Now that he was in an interior hallway with a little bit of buffer from the white noise of the storm he could hear voices downstairs. He waited for a moment, listening to the voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but at least he was pretty sure that it was just Bramley and Warm Welcome. He moved toward the staircase. Although he was scared, and hesitant, he fought the urge to move stealthily. He didn't want it to seem like he was trying to "sneak". As he neared the top landing, the voices were much clearer. He was sure now that it was just the colt and his Mama. Their conversation was light, jovial. They were discussing some recent event. He took a deep breath, and started down the stairs. The stairs creaked, and the conversation downstairs stopped. He continued his descent into the lower level of the house. Half way down, the right side of the staircase wall opened into the large downstairs room, and an ornate wooden banister took its place. He hesitated at that last step. He stooped to peer out into the room below. And was met by two smiling faces. Warm Welcome spoke first "Thank goodness you're up! You had us a mite worried!" The changeling goggled at her, dumbstruck. Bramley chimed in "C'mon down. We can getcha sumthin more ta' eat. And we'd love to get a chance to visit with ya' a little." The changeling came the rest of the way downstairs, and was beset by a storm of "hospitality". Warm Welcome ushered him into a chair by the fire, and settled him in with pillows and blankets. Bramley hurried to the kitchen and returned with a whole pie, which he placed on the end table beside the changeling. He allowed himself to be swept along by their kindness, to just give in and let himself be cared for. When Warm Welcome and Bramley had finished with their ministrations, they settled themselves back down onto the couch, and looked expectantly at him. He looked into their eyes, and saw nothing but kindness, love, and charity. He smiled wider that he ever remembered smiling before, and cried. After a few moments, he wiped his eyes. When he looked back at Bramley and Warm Welcome, he saw that they were crying as well. He looked at them and began to speak, but caught himself when he remembered that they couldn't understand his language. Warm Welcome saw an apologetic look in the changeling's eyes. Then a "FWOOSH" of colored fire exchanged the changeling's form for his piecemeal pony-changeling shape. She was glad to see that the "fire" didn't set her chair or blankets ablaze, on the contrary, it didn't give off any heat at all. He looked at the ground in embarrassment, and his words came out in a jumble. "I'm sorry Ma'am. I don't want to startle you or upset you. I'm so grateful for your kindness, and I can't speak like this in my normal form. I just had to do this so I could say thank you. I'd have died if it weren't for you and your son's efforts to save me. You got so angry when I changed before. Please don't be angry with me. I promise I’d never hurt either of you, I just..." His words trailed off as he felt a mare's hoof slip around his shoulders, and draw him into an embrace. He melted into it, and began to sob. He could feel the love blazing from her, nourishing him. Warm Welcome held him and cried with him for several minutes. When his tears subsided, Warm Welcome quietly said to him : "Sugar, I'm sorry for the way I treated ya'. I don't know what happened to ya', or how ya' came to be here, but we'll help ya' get better." Bramley walked up and added his hooves to the mix. The three stood and held each other, while outside the storm raged on.