We Are Born From The Mist

by NeverEatTheLemonsAlone

VII

Still painful.

Hurricane was…displeased…at the level of pain currently jolting through her hoof. It hadn’t ceased since she’d recreated it by stomping on the ring, and didn’t show any signs of doing anything of the sort in the near future. She groaned, muttering to herself as she flew through the overcast sky:

“Ughhh. How? How even? What happened?” Completely disregarding the pain, her mind was reeling. Somehow, whatever dark creature that was, it had stolen a piece of her and replaced it with part of itself, magically fusing the two. The amount of magic necessary to perform such a feat was impressive; she wasn’t sure that even Clover could do that kind of thing.

Perhaps Star could do it, she briefly reflected, but the idea was discarded out of hand. Star Swirl, though intensely powerful, was very specialized. He was a transformation mage: he didn’t create things, or combine them. He changed them. He changed their shape, he changed their fundamental nature. He could morph nearly anything, hence his crowning glory, the Omniomorphic Spell.

It was a nearly mythical piece of spellcasting; when the spell was active, the caster gained an intimate knowledge of the structure and composition of everything around them, allowing them to freely shape the world to their whim. To her knowledge, only Star Swirl had ever mastered such intensely complex magic.

Still, the point remained: even one of the greatest mages in pre-Equestrian history couldn’t recreate this kind of magic. So what kind of monster was the pony? More accurately, how did it do that without even having a horn? For it didn’t. For as magical in nature as it seemed to be, it still appeared to be an earth pony. So how could it cast spells of this power?

These were the thoughts ricocheting through her mind as she blasted forwards, hammering her way through a heavy headwind. Low clouds roared in the sky above her, and she grimaced. The massive storm from the Sleipnir Range had caught up with her, moving far faster than she thought it would. Once again, lightning crackled around her and thunder boomed overhead.

Looking down, she saw nowhere to land. Everything was the unforgiving green, needle-sharp branches and jagged rocks just waiting to stop her progress for good. As dangerous and difficult as storm flying was, this was a time when Hurricane had to do it. There was nowhere to hide.

Once again, the raging winds buffeted her from side to side, knocking her around like some sort of cat playing with an exceptionally feathery ball of string. It didn’t help when the torrential rain started falling, hammering down on Hurricane like an angry god of some sort.

She tried to rise above the clouds, but to no avail; the storm was strong, and she couldn’t punch through to reach them. The force of the rain was stunning; it drove her down, nearly beating her breath out as she strove to fight the weather and fly straight. Needless to say, she lost, and began to slowly lost altitude.

Only a meter or two from the canopy of the forest below her, she spotted a clearing and desperately beat forward, breaking all attempts to maintain altitude. She made it, falling hard into the clearing. Her fall was broken by a large stone, and as she began to fade, the last thing she saw before losing consciousness completely was a small pair of hooves.

Hurricane awoke. This, in and of itself, was a surprise to her. As she’d hit the rock, she was sure that she’d die. More surprising was the fact that she was warm and dry. Opening her eyes a crack, she immediately winced at the intense brightness. A fire burned nearby, and she lay sprawled out on a rug, her dark coat sucking up the heat eagerly.

She let out a soft groan as a brilliant flower of pain blossomed in her head. Gingerly reaching her hoof up to touch it, she felt a massive lump. Her eyes still squinted sharply, she looked around, relieved to see her saddlebags, spear and armour resting on a crudely-cut wooden table nearby.

A voice.

It had been quite a while since Hurricane had heard any voices beside her own, and this certainly wasn’t anypony she recognized. She’d never had any foals of her own; no time to settle down between Equestria uniting and Mist stealing the Nimbus Ring. This was a filly’s voice, high, cheerful…

And piercing. Her headache multiplied exponentially.

“Hey! Mum, Da! She’s awake!” There was a patter of tiny hooves, then a louder clip-clop as two pairs of heavier hoofsteps quickly stepped into the room. Somebody shushed the filly; sounded like a mare’s voice. Then a stallion began speaking to her.

“Lass, are ya feelin’ better? We found you laid out in the clearing. It’s only a kilometer or so from where we live. Ya bumped yer heid hard on a rock. Our Fire here found you. If she hadn’t, I dinnae wha’ would’ve happened to ya.”

He spoke with a thick accent typical of ponies from the more northern regions of the world. It actually took Hurricane a moment to decipher it before she responded. Her voice was dry and croaking, as though she hadn’t had anything to drink in days. “Thank you, um…”

“M’name’s Thunderbird, lass, and m’wife is Arc Crackle, but you can jes’ call us Thunder and Arc. I already said her name, but m’filly’s name is Fire. Welcome to the house. ‘Bout time you woke up, you’ve been here for near a week already.”

Hurricane bolted upright, her dry voice panicking. “A week?! I’ve been here a week?! Oh, no no no. I’ve lost too much time!” Her head sharply swiveled, catching Thunder’s stormy gray eyes. “Did a ring of clouds pass by here?”

A little startled by the sudden movements and the rather odd question, Thunderbird put a hoof to his broad chin, thinking. “Hmm, now that ya mention it, there was one passed by two weeks ago, a week and a half, maybe. Why?”

Hurricane shook her head. “No time to explain. I need to get out of here. Do you have anything I can drink?”

Arc came forward, quietly placing a glass of water in front of her. She drained it instantly, then leapt to her hooves, ignoring the pain in her black one. “Thanks for everything, but I need to go now.”

Then little Fire spoke up. “You cannae go, miss. The monsters’ll get ye.”

That certainly piqued Hurricane’s curiosity. “Monsters? What monsters?” Thunder’s face set in a grim line and he beckoned to her. “Well, miss…”

“Hurricane. My name is Hurricane.”

“Well, miss Hurricane, I’ll show you what monsters.” He led her to the door, him walking, her hobbling, and threw it open. "Those monsters."

A bloodcurdling shriek tore through the previously quiet night, and a dark shape quite literally flew towards the open door. The yellow stallion next to Hurricane slammed it with all his strength, barely managing to keep it closed as whatever was on the other side smashed and tore at it, screaming in rage all the while. Hurricane shrank back, her jaw dropping open at the sheer fury that was apparent in the bestial sounds. Finally, after nearly five minutes of this, it went quiet

Thunder released the door, exhaling a sigh of relief, and turned to her, his face stony. "Well, lass? Monstrous enough for ya?" Hurricane nodded frantically as he continued. "They dropped out of the sky on us jes' a short time ago, about when tha cloud ring ya wer' talking about passed by. They only com' out when the sun goes down, and then they shred ta bits anything that goes out."

Arc trotted softly in and spoke for the first time, her voice calm and quiet, in contrast with her husband's loud, rough voice. Her bright blue coat shimmered in the firelight. "Thunder, please. Yer goin' ta scare the poor dear off." He laughed, though not unkindly.

"Scare her off? Ha, I was rather hopin' that she would scare them off! Ha' ya seen what she carries, Arc? That spear's a real weapon, make no mistake! And that armour? This pony's a warrior! Ain't that right, lass?"

Hurricane found herself nodding. "Yeah, that's right. Commander Hurricane, the youngest of the Valkyries of Equestria." The two looked at each other in alarm, backing away slowly. Hurricane cocked her head. "Hey, what's up?"

It was Thunder who spoke next, a thin sheen of sweat apparent on his coat. "Jes' to be clear, lass...Ya said 'Equestria', right...? Commander Hurricane, from Equestria?" She nodded, and his face grew grim. "Those creatures...they're lookin' fer ya, lass. First time they came, they said they were lookin' fer the Equestrian Windstorm. I couldn't make heid nor tails of it at the time, but now..."

Hurricane put it together in her head. "That's me, I guess."

Thunder and Arc nodded sadly. "Sorry, lass." Surprisingly, it was Arc. "Truly sorry, but we need ta ask ya ta leave."

Author's Note:

Thunderbird, Arc Crackle and Fire are intended to have Scottish accents. Accents are hard to type.

Also, I am fully aware that it is referred to in the show as the amniomorphic spell. That means the bowl-morphing spell. I went with something a bit more noteworthy.