Fallen Leaves

by SilentBelle

Chapter 2 - A Flame's Warm Embrace

Fallen Leaves – Chapter 2: Flame's Warm Embrace
By: SilentBelle

Amber slowed to a halt and kept low to the ground as she peered out of the Autumn Wood. Multiple plumes of smoke rose from a burned structure that Amber could only imagine had been a small farmhouse. The surrounding fields of ryegrass showed obvious signs of burning, but most of the crop had been spared. The grasses are still moist from last week's rain, Amber reasoned, though she was quick to note that the building had not been so fortunate.

Willow moved up beside her, and frowned darkly at the scene. “Gryphons...” he muttered. “They're attacking again... Then the war's restarting. Of course, the gryphons will never quit until we're all dead.”

“So, then this must have been a raid of a few gryphons,” Amber imagined as she surveyed the damage. “They managed to damage a fair amount of the crop... and burn down the house too.”

“They must be trying to raid as many of the farms as they can, as quickly as they can. Damn gryphons always use their under-hooved tactics, because they know they'd lose in a fair fight. This must have been a quick strike before a pegasus patrol could find them. They lit the building on fire and some of the fields. It puts the place out of commission for a while. Father used to be on a brigade that aimed to stop these kinds of raids. Argent always talked about some of their different tactics. Just like the night when father-” Willow shook his head. “The gryphons are probably long gone by now...”

He moved out from the cover of the bushes and headed toward the burned home. “I'm going to get a closer look. Maybe we can figure out exactly what happened,” he whispered back to her. “Stay here, I'll be right back.”

Amber raised an eyebrow and moved to follow, but stopped at the threshold of the woods. “Seriously? But you can't know the gryphons are all gone. They could be flying overhead. In that field they'd see you in a second.”

Willow didn't respond and merely continued onward in a slow crouch and pushed past the bushes and into the grasses of the field.

What if he doesn't come back? the thought crossed her mind. He wouldn't just ditch me, would he? She shook her head. Of course he won't. But I'll be damned if he thinks he can just leave me alone in the woods. “If you're going then so am I!” she replied in a scathing whisper and cantered quickly to his side. “We're in this together, remember?”

Willow gave her a worried look, but didn't offer any further protest. “Alright, but be ready to run into the woods if some gryphons did decide to stick around. They won't be able to fly very well with all the trees, it's the only way we'd have a chance of escaping if they are still around.”

They both moved forward, keeping as low to the ground as they could, and Amber wished that the grasses were a little taller and more concealing as she kept an eye trained to the sky. What if they're waiting behind one of those clouds, prepared to ambush any pony they come across? It would take all of ten seconds for them to reach us. Nervously, Amber eyed the hatchet that Willow carried strapped to the side of his saddle. She nearly laughed at the absurdity of finding the object reassuring. As if a hatchet would help against a gryphon with a two-foot sword.

Each hoof-fall that they took through the grasses sounded too loudly in her ears, and the afternoon light felt altogether too much as though it were shining solely upon her, instead of the field around her.

After a minute of creeping, the field gave way to an open space around the farmhouse. The backside of the building faced them. It was a small structure, only large enough for a small family. At a glance, it easily reminded Amber of her family’s own farmhouse. Perhaps it was a little smaller, but the blackened heavy oaken walls reminded her of her own home, and the missing rooftop only spurred her to imagine how her own brothers and parent might have reacted, had their house been suddenly set ablaze. I hope whoever lived here got away.

“You go left. I'll go right,” Willow said, indicating with a hoof before moving around his corner of the building.

“Okay,” Amber called back, her voice trembling slightly. We should have stayed in the woods, Willow. She crept forth, staying as close to the charred building's remains as she could without touching the dirty structure.

She peeked cautiously around the corner of the building, and her eyes widened. There, left strewn upon the ground were three unmistakably equine forms laying still. Green and blue were the largest ones, and the smaller form, nestled between the two was purple one. Soot and deep red gashes marred the coats of the larger ponies. The blood had fallen upon the form between them, marking it with a bloodied splotch where his cutie mark would have eventually been, had he lived long enough to find what his special talent was.

A small child and his parents? The scene seemed alien to her. She wasn't a stranger to the concept of war. No, the war had always been a backdrop since the day she was born. Everypony heard the stories of various battles: The Fight for Northhaven, or The Battle of Easterwood. And everypony knew of someone, a family or neighbour who had been lost to the fighting. Willow's father was a prime example. But at the same time, all the ponies who died had been soldiers. They fought valiantly to stop the gryphons from taking Equestria. They fought to stop the scene right before her.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “They were just farmers—just a family. How could they do something like this?” Amber moved over to the bodies and collapsed to the ground. “What did they do to deserve this?”

“Amber? I thought I heard...” Willow's voice called out from around the corner, then he gasped and rushed over to her side. “Damn it! Those bastards killed the whole family! They were just innocent farmers!”

Amber looked down at the small colt's lifeless form. His purple hide held no wounds save for a burn on his back, even if it was pocked by his parent's own blood. But if she looked past those blemishes, she could almost convince herself that the little colt was sleeping soundly in the embrace of his parents.

“Amber,” Willow called to her sternly, and rested a forehoof on her shoulder. The action betrayed his nerves, whether he trembled in fear or anger, Amber couldn’t be certain. However his eyes shimmered with restrained emotion that didn’t ruffle his otherwise blank expression.

Willow closed his eyes and exhaled deeply before speaking again. “I'll look take a look at these bodies and try to determine what happened. If war has really broken out again, any information we gain could be useful. While I do that, can you go and see if there are any supplies left undamaged by the fire?”

Amber just shook her head. “Why, Willow? Why would they do this? Is expanding their country and taking ours really worth killing innocents in their minds? What do they see us as? Look at him!” She pointed to the young colt before her. “He doesn't even have a cutie mark!”

“I know, damn it! The war has never made sense! But maybe... just maybe, I might be able to save him, if there hasn't been too much damage.”

“You mean necromancy?” Amber whispered, her voice trembling.

“I mean healing magic. I have to try and save a life if I think I can. I always promised mother that's what I would do.”

“But he's dead!” she argued back while staring at the body in front of her. “Once somepony's dead, it's over. To try and stop that is just wrong! It's crazy!”

“But what if it isn't?” Willow asked and Amber turned to look him in the eyes.

He stared back with eyes as pristine as a golden autumn leaf, silent and sure. She knew that look of certainty and determination. It was a quality of Willow's that she had admired for a long time. It was a look he wore that told her he would succeed, he knew what he was doing, and he would not be stopped. Just like all those years ago...

Amber Blinked her eyes, and shook herself out of a reverie. And this colt will never get to experience that moment. Amber looked down at the purple body that lay before her. For a second, she saw his coat change to a light wooden-brown, and she saw Willow there, laying still. No cutie mark proudly decorating his flank, only blood. A single yellow eye flicked open giving her that determined stare she knew so well.

Amber shook her head vigorously, and banished the apparition from her mind.

“Amber, are you okay?” Willow's voice came, worried.

She turned to face her friend. Yes, he has those same fierce eyes right now. She then looked back to the lifeless colt, who was once again of purple coat and darker violet hair. His dead eyes remained open as if looking to a world that lay beyond the endlessly blue sky.

With a muffled breath, Amber tasted the scent of burned hair in the air around her. The smell of dried blood, and the sound of buzzing flies caught in her ears. She felt the world turning beneath her hooves and she couldn't stand it anymore. With a moan, she bolted away from the scene, and around a corner of the house and emptied her stomach and burning tears formed in her eyes.

She felt a comforting hoof rub her back, and she let out a small cry. “That child. He could have been you or me. It's just sick.”

“Shh,” Willow soothed. “I'll save him,” he promised her. “I'll move him into the woods and I'll save him. Amber, you don't have to look at the bodies. You can wait for me in the woods.”

“But it's wrong! He's dead!” she protested.

“I resuscitated old Flintlock after his heart stopped beating for half a minute, and the whole village called it a miracle!” he said sternly. “Saving a life is saving a life, no matter how much time has passed. This isn't something I'm going to give up on. So wait for me in the woods, I'll be back soon.”

“No,” she muttered and wiped her face with a foreleg. “I'll see if I can find some supplies inside. If you think that this is the right thing to do, Willow, if you truly believe that, then I won't stop you. I trust you, Willow. You know I do.” Is it right? Is it wrong? Should I stop him?

Without waiting for his reaction, she slipped into the ruins of the burned structure and looked about, hoping to free her mind from the plaguing questions. The open sky above gave her all the illumination she needed to see within the ruined house and amidst the tendrils of smoke that still billowed around her. The scent of burned wood reminded her of her own family stove. While it didn't carry the familiar scent of hawthorn and baking acorn bread, it did carry the scent of oak, and calmed her nerves slightly.

* * *

Willow watched her walk into the burned farm house. She trusts me, yet she's worried. He shook his head and turned back to the bloody scene before him. It's time I earned that trust. I won't fail this time!

He analyzed the dastardly scene once again, and the blood in his own veins boiled. Those gryphons, they're nothing short of monsters. They'll do anything they can to cause us misery. But I'll fix what I can... He looked the three bodies over and could imagine the scene playing out.

They all must have been in bed for the night when suddenly, they awoke to burning and fire, and their child coughing. They raced out the door as quickly as they could, the colt had stopped breathing by the time they got out. Just outside the door, waiting for them were the gryphons with their swords. In brutal swings the parents were cut down as they kept the child between them. Afterward the gryphons turned to the child but found him already dead from the fire. And before the light of dawn, the gryphons took off...

Willow shook his head and saw the two protective parents on either side of the child, with wounds deeper than Willow had the finesse to heal. But when his eyes turned to the colt, he saw a life that could be salvaged from this blood bath. It's the least I can do. I promised mother I'd make this world a better place. And I will. I have to!

He got to work, and lifted the colt's body with his magic, carrying him away from the barn and into the woods. After a short while, he found a small clearing wide enough in the woods to lay the colt down and begin the preparations. Willow wasn't worried about Amber finding her way back. He knew she could track him with ease. She had proven it time and time again.

He brought forth his magic and gave it a familiar purpose before projecting it into the body before him. He cast the diagnostic spell and instantly he began to feel the problems within the body. Burned back. Numerous small cuts. And... a burned lung. Smoke inhalation, of course.

Willow frowned and focused on the particular lung that sustained the devastating injury even as he pulled out some supplies from his bag. He cleaned off the colt's bloodied coat with a damp cloth, and began treating the obvious burn. All the while, he was still assessing the damage inside the child's lungs, and began to plan out the necessary steps to heal it.

Once the burn on his patient's backside had been doused with disinfectant, and bandaged properly, he pulled out a number of crimson crystals and began arranging them carefully. A ritual for heat containment, so the body retains its warmth. A ritual to feed me the energy from my surroundings so I don't run out halfway through. And the lethargy ritual to numb the subjects pain receptors when he wakes.

By the time he had finished placing three sets of crystals, making sure the spacing was proper to feed the separate consistent spells, Amber had made her way back from the farm. She was carrying two packs over her back, fully stuffed. Her mane and coat had copious amounts of ash and char marking them.

Amber looked at the child's body for a moment with an almost haunted expression in her eyes before she glanced away. “I found food preserves in their cellar. Plenty of hay rations; dried and pressed, like they have in the army.” She set the two heavy bags down at the small clearing. “I also found some small jars of jam down there. They must have had a small orchard nearby, or they knew where to find fruit plants in the woods. They had some raincoats as well. And there were two flasks of lamp oil that thankfully didn't catch when the building burned, though the lamp was crushed under the debris.”

“Good. Nice find, Amber! That will help us a lot if we don't have to worry so much about food.”

“I wish we didn't have to take their stuff.” Amber shook her head and sat down against a nearby tree. “It doesn't belong to us.”

“It belongs to him,” Willow responded, pointing a hoof at the dead colt, “and to his parents. If you died, wouldn't you want your possessions to help the living?”

“I know,” Amber said quietly, “but that doesn't mean I have to like it. They deserve a proper burial and their next of kin should be notified.”

“But we can't do that for them. However, I can try to save him. That's what his parents would have wanted. It's what they died trying to do.”

“So you really can save him?” she asked quietly, and turning her sights away from the body.

“I will save him,” Willow said as firmly as he could, as much to assure her as to belay his own doubts. “It might take a while though.”

She got back to her hooves and moved up to Willow. Grabbing his water flask, she slipped it into one of the bags she had gotten from the farm, and slung the pack over her back. She then retreated to the outskirts of the clearing. “I'm going to look for the Stream of Leaves and get us some water. It shouldn't be too far from here.”

Willow only nodded and watched her disappear into the woods once again. Her soot-stained form quickly blended in with the surrounding flora. I want to comfort her and tell her that everything is going to be fine. He tossed a short glance at the dead colt. But words are only words. And in a time like this, actions are the only things that truly speak.

With a grim silence setting in, Willow called forth his magic and floated the young body into the arrangement of crystals before him. He quickly called forth the three rituals and turned all his focus onto the young form.

* * *

Amber moved through the colourful woods, but with every fallen leaf that passed her by, a sinking feeling deepened in her gut. The leaves had once filled her mind with thoughts of how she might grow older and one day turn as colourful as the golden or brilliant red trees in the woods. But now, instead of seeing her future in the trees, she couldn't help but feel as though she was watching a young child slipping from a mother's failing embrace with every leaf that fell.

A deep purple crabapple leaf drifted past her nose and she couldn't help but shiver.

Get a hold of yourself, Amber! Focus! She forcibly shook herself and threw the thoughts of Willow and the dead bodies from her mind. She continued onward until she came across the next clearing. All the while, she made sure to note certain trees as landmarks so she wouldn't get lost.

Once in the clearing, she looked up to the sky and spotted the glow of the late afternoon sun and adjusted her path away from it. The river runs through the wood, from the mountains to the north, down to the south. So, then heading east should lead me to it.

She continued for what must have been half an hour before she heard the telltale sound of the softly-flowing river. With the near-empty canister of water, at the ready, she made it to the river bank.

As she passed between a few bushes, she quickly scoped out the area, making certain that no gryphons or other ponies were around. She let out a small relieved sigh, when she saw none. Although the presence of animals squawking and chattering away should have been enough of sign that aren't any beasts nearby, she reminded herself, with a small, nervous laugh.

She moseyed down to the riverside and undid the flask's lid. With a fluid motion, she filled the container up by plunging it into the cool waters. After a moment she refastened the flask and placed it back in her bag.

Shortly afterward, she took the bag off and descended into the waters herself. She ignored the chill and watched in fascination as the water pulled away the soot and char in faint gray tendrils from her brown coat. With a serene motion, she plunged her whole body beneath the surface and was tempted to let the soft current just take her away.

The water pulled through her mane and tail lovingly, cleansing her of the afternoon. She opened her mouth and let the stream take the foul taste from her mouth. For a single moment, she felt whole again. Then she pulled herself to the surface.

She filled her lungs with air and swam back to the riverbank. She looked upstream and spotted her pack resting some distance away. What have I gotten myself into? she had to wonder. Maybe I should have listened to Willow, and just let him go on his own. I could be safe at home right now. At home without Willow, to never hear a word from him again? She laughed halfheartedly at her own thoughts.

She stood up gave a herself a firm shake. She shivered at the refreshing chill that had overcome her and moved back to the river's edge. She leaned over the smoothly flowing, clear waters and took a long, refreshing drink.

As she finished at the stream, she noticed, amidst the numerous coloured leaves that flowed along the waters, a single brown feather large enough to belong to an eagle—or a gryphon—flowing amongst them. Her eyes widened, and she trained her gaze further upstream. Thankfully she didn't see the feather's owner.

Without any further delays, she got moving once again, saddled her bag and made her way back into the coloured woods. With her mind firmly back in the present, she began the small trek back to where she had left Willow.

* * *

It's working! An hour long reparation spell had done the trick. The lungs tissues could finally carry air once again, and Willow began coaxing them into action with his magic while also warming the colt's body until it was the same temperature as his own.

He had the body take slow and steady, deep breaths, while he forced the child's heart into action to draw the air into the blood. He also activated the sedative ritual to stop the child from waking right away. He didn't have any powerful medicinal painkillers in his bags, so magic was his only solid option.

Nodding in rhythm to the heartbeats and forcing the lungs into action with every six that passed, he lost himself to the trance. He left the world around him. None of it was important. One stray moment of distraction, and the spells could go haywire, and the child would be forever denied his right to life. A single moment of weakness, and all would be for naught.

He lost all sense of time and just listened to the pulsing he was causing in rhythm with his own heart, his every breath being echoed by the colts, until eventually, he felt something resist his magic. The childs' heart beat quicker of its own accord, and the lungs began to pump quicker, easily overcoming Willow's own weakening hold on the spells.

A light moan escaped the child's lips, then he fell back into his own sustained breathing pattern. Willow opened his eyes in awe to see, in the shadowy veil of the forest, cast deep from the setting sun, the child was breathing once again, on his own. He'll live! A tired smile broke his lips and he shed tears of joy. He'll live. I knew it wasn't impossible.

Willow carefully diffused the magic before it could slip out of control. The glowing red crystals of the ritual blinked out as one. All of the crystals had been spent and were naught but fractured chunks of crimson among a carpet of dead leaves. He was glad he had brought them with him.

He heard a small rustling from nearby and he blinked into the darkness. It took him a moment, but he noticed, resting against a tree trunk, which was as deep a brown as her own coat, was Amber. She looked to have dozed off. When she had arrived, Willow had no clue, but he was very glad that she had remained as quiet as she had.

“Amber,” he called out to her. His voice burned and he nearly coughed with how dry his throat had become.

She woke with a start, but when she met his eyes, her breathing steadied and the tension within her brow softened.

“I did it! He's going to live!”

She let out a gasp and sprung to her hooves, scrambling over to the child's side and inspected the gently breathing form. “You really did it,” she whispered in disbelief, then shook her head curtly. “We need a campfire; he has to stay warm. You do that, and I'll build us a lean-to. And he should drink some water, right?” She moved over to Willow's bags and procured the hatchet from one side. “I filled up the flask. Here.” She quickly retrieved the container from her bag and placed it beside Willow.

“Amber,” Willow said, embracing her in a short hug, and giving her a tired smile. “Thanks for trusting me.”

She returned with her own strained grin and eased out of the embrace. “Get a drink before you choke from dehydration. Your voice is worse than old Flintlock's was.” She let out a small laugh and moved to the edge of their clearing. “Better get started before the sun's fully set.”

With fatigue setting in, Willow took a quenching drink and then began to administer the water to the sleeping purple colt. He then gathered a fair number of nearby twigs, small branches, and dry leaves, then cleared out the surroundings of any flammable materials. Before too long, he had a small fire going.

He breathed a soft sigh, as the golden glow encompassed him and the young colt. See Argent, you were wrong. I could have saved her, just like I saved him.

End of Chapter 2

Comments

[-Brutus]

However, I can't tell if he ends up brain-dead from being 'dead' for too long or have his soul already departed, leaving behind a empty shell of colt?

I only can hope for best but with this theme, I shouldn't hope too much.

[Azarune]

3895187 Indeed...
Anyway, I can't wait for the next chapter!

[Soaring Skies]

Man, I've been waiting for this chapter to get updated! Great work on this one, too!

We're in this together, remember?

And so it begins...

[vader10001]

Silent, have you read the Dresden Files series by Jim Butcher? Willow's motivation for learning necromancy really reminds me of a character from one of the books. The idea of using necromancy as a type of healing magic isn't particularly common, though it is a cool idea.

[SilentBelle]

3896129 I never read the Dresden Files, though I've heard enough good things about it to consider adding it to my "to read later" list of books. Would you recommend it?

[vader10001]

3897097

I would very highly recommend it. The series has amazing writing and the books have just been getting more and more epic as they have gone along.

[dancing mop]

Oh, you updated this! I kinda didn't watch this story, thinking that I'd be seeing the chapters at the proofreading stage anyway...so I kinda missed the update.

I guess you don't need this proofreader anymore?

I do love where this story is going. All the foreshadowing is making me really fear for Amber and Willow when the gryphons finally do show up. And judging by what I see here, I have no idea what's gonna happen to that colt.

[SilentBelle]

3906119 Actually, I totally forgot. It's been so long. Now I feel awful about that I'll be sure to send you Chapter Three once I go through it and fix it up a bit more.

[dancing mop]

3906199
It's cool. It's your story, not mine.

But, yeah, that'd be nice if you did.

[Riverwing]

I didn't think he'd manage it. I just hope he didn't revive a shell.

[ilubatar nuctemeron]

The water pulled through her mane and tail lovingly, cleansing her of the afternoon. She opened her mouth and let the stream take the foul taste from her mouth. For a single moment, she felt whole again. Then she pulled herself to the surface.

Lovely picture!!! <3!

[ilubatar nuctemeron]

I love your ART!!! You're a genius!!!
<3