Once Luck Turns Into Habit

by Sinister Voice

Chapter 0 : Dreaming Willow

When Luck Becomes A Habit

by Sinister Voice

Chapter 0

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The Storyteller

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The storyteller's gaze slowly passed over his audience – for a moment he closed his eyes, his horn alight with an eerie green glow that soon covered the book in front of him. Pages turned for a moment and he opened his eyes again as the room began to darken. Curtains drawing themselves over windows until only the green light of the storyteller’s magic and the glow of a couple of candles illuminated the room.

"Well, my little ponies. Let me tell you a story…"

"… a story about a group of ponies that stumbled into an adventure."

"Once upon a time in the magical land of Equestria…"

"A time when the world was wilder than it is now…"

"There was a forest, a lonesome road winding its way in between the trees, far away from any bigger town or city…"

"... but wait, first let me tell you of Willow..."

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Dreaming Willow

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All her life Willow had lived in the forest.

At first there had been only her and her mother and while she grew up Willow learned everything her mother knew. How to live in the forest. Which plants were poisonous and which healed, or both. How to plant and grow almost everything she needed herself. How to trade for those things she couldn't make herself. This and many, many more things. She learned how to cook and to brew, potion and poison alike. And she learned to make the earth and the forest to do her bidding.

Then came the night she received her Mark – the night the dreams started.

The night the branches of the old oak outside of their small hut were covered by ravens, all of them staring silently at the hut.

And then her mother had left – leaving her only with her teacher, her master, whose voice only she could hear.

She and the ravens.

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Four ponies running on three roads leading through one forest all while being plagued by one storm.

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Willow woke with a start while the images of the dream still lingered in her mind. Slowly the young pale green mare rose from her bed and looked outside; the first rays of sunlight just began to crawl over the horizon. Yawning and stretching, banishing the sleep from her limbs, she then turned to a small mirror and frowned as she saw the mess her mane had become during her sleep.

In the mornings, being a stupid hornhead would be easier.

After a sheer endless time unknotting and straightening the dark green, almost black, hair of her mane and tail, both streaked with a single strand of white, she turned to the rest of the room, or rather the hut she lived in. Her hoof wandered to her hornless forehead.

Next to the small cot, directly underneath one of only two windows, was an old vanity table with the even older copper mirror, brush and a bowl with water. The other side of the room was something like a kitchen – a row of several tables, cupboards and cabinets spanned the length of the wall, nets and pots with herbs hanging from the ceiling. Then a hearth, almost too big for the tiny hut, and a small table with two cushions to sit on. The last wall only held the door and the second window, looking out to a well kept herb and vegetable garden, and the forest that surrounded the clearing she lived in; an old, almost ancient looking oak tree dominated the middle of the clearing, and the view out of the window.

Breakfast first, then she would have to interpret that dream.

With another sigh she trotted into her kitchen.

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Willow sat outside, in front of the old oak and stared at a water filled bowl formed by the oak’s roots. Her ears folded back, as she slowly began to shake her head. Growing ever more frantic by the second.

He couldn't be serious.

Her head shot up, glaring at the ancient tree, its gnarled branches and rustling leaves, as if there was someone who spoke to her.

She'd never left the forest... Well she'd been in the nearby village but that wasn't the same, was it?

She sighed and her head dropped again, glancing back at the natural wooden bowl filled with water.

How should she, Willow, a single Earth-Pony find this group of... of... misfits and lead them where they were supposed to be? She was no leader, she wasn't even social. She lived alone in a forest, only travelling to a nearby village to trade some of her herbs and vegetables for wheat. She didn't even know where to look.

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She had once tried to escape her dreams, to change what they foretold. It had not worked.

She had been chased by Timberwolves, unconsciously fleeing in the direction her dreams wanted her to be. Timberwolves which were supposed to only live deep in the Everfree Forest – not on the Edge like she did – and that hadn't even been the worst of it. Turns out if you ignore a prophecy to meet a dragon, said dragon would – coincidentally – develop a tummy ache, and begin to look for a healing herb, a healing herb that – coincidentally – only grew in Willow's garden. Stupid dreams.

Resigning herself to her destiny once again, Willow dragged herself back into her hut and began packing. Stupid destiny.

Since when were willows supposed to be prophetic? She glanced back at the tree, her namesake, adorning her flank. Stupid Mark.

As she left her hut, she hoped that it would still be there when she returned... if she returned.
Slowly the pale green Earth-Pony mare left her hut, her garden, the clearing and wandered into the forest.

Giving a last glare to the oak tree she mumbled: "I hate you master."

Then she was on her way. Following her dream.

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First, however, she had to find a guide.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading the prologue of "When Luck Becomes A Habit".

I'd greatly appreciate any form of critique, praise, expression of utter disgust or something along the lines you could give me, either in the comments or as a p.m.
Especially from those who downvoted the story, maybe it might lead to me improving.

I'll also try to update at least monthly.

All art was done for me by a good, good friend who prefers to stay anonymous but I will upload her stuff to my DeviantArt Account

o

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