The Hollow Pony

by Type_Writer

3 - Ponyville

I became aware of movement long before I opened my eyes. Below me, something bounced and shifted, carrying me. I think I was on a Pony's back, but it was hard to tell, because the pain began to fade in next, reminding me of my grievous injuries.

And whatever, or whoever, was carrying me was not just warm, but hot to the touch. I could feel it through my dented and ruined armor, as it tried to burn its way in through the metal plating. Somehow, I survived, shaking and rolling while being cooked, as I was carried into the unknown.

Eventually, we came to a stop. Cracking open my eyes, I saw the sunsetting sky, and found comfort in it, before I was gently rolled off and onto the ground. The thump jerked my chest, and I realized how sticky it was as the chestplate shifted my insides. My hoof struggled to move, to hold the chestplate down and keep my torso together, and that seemed to startle whoever had been carrying me, judging by the gasp.

“You're awake! Well it's about time, sleepyhead. Applejack punted you a good while back, it’s a good thing she forgot to check the rooftops.”

I groaned, blinking as my head was tilted for me. I couldn't seem to move it myself. Pink hooves entered my vision, and then her face.

She actually had a face.

‘Pink’ was the first word that came to mind. Second, third, and fourth as well. Her fur was pink, her curly, fluffy mane was pink, her horn was pink, she even seemed to radiate pink itself somehow. Her only feature that dared to break the streak was her eyes; I almost couldn't believe it, she actually had eyes. She had eyes of the brightest, coolest blue I had ever seen.

And then I felt the fire once more, burning inside her, hotter than the sunset, hotter than the blast of the shotgun. And this was no flash, but a sustained burn. It never dwindled, just kept burning, kept radiating out. It burned like nothing else had before, even greater than the fire inside that dragged me back to life every time I fell. And she didn't seem to mind at all, just kept standing there, fire rolling off her in waves of pink.

She smiled, and it felt like the sunset shone brighter. I would gladly allow the fire inside her to burn me to cinders, would she only ask.

“You okay? You're kinda staring at me. It's a liiiiittle weird but things are kinda weird in general so don’t worry about it.”

It was hard to pull my eyes away from her. She was hypnotic, in the same way a raging inferno was, but her voice made my tongue remember tastes, flavors lost to me. Dough, chocolate, cinnamon?

Eventually, my eyes snapped shut, and I tried to apologize. My lips moved, but the only sound to emerge was a faint keening moan. I could barely will the air through my lips, my lungs crushed and unresponsive.

“Awwww. Yeah, you're all banged up, it's super understandable! Listen, your Aunt Pinkie Pie is gonna do her very best to help you, just don't even worry about it!”

I let out another whine, and that seemed to satisfy her. “Okay! Stay right here, okay? My friend Rockhoof is gonna have a look at your armor while I go get another friend of mine. She'll help us help you!”

There was the crunch of heavy hooves on loose gravel nearby, before a deeper, burlier voice spoke, heavily accented: “Damn, lass, y'weren't jokin’. Can't hardly see where steel ends and pony begins.”

I opened my eyes again, and this time they were greeted by a stallion as thick and rugged as his voice. I'd vague memories of fur-lined coats that couldn't compare to his own natural blue fur, and he wore a steel-and-leather harness that cut valleys through the fuzz. His own face was just as rugged, a broad, muscled neck supporting a solid, bearded muzzle. His eyes were gone, reduced to embers like the others, but there was intelligence in how he used them to take my measure.

In him too, I could feel a fire. Not a hundredth of a hundredth as strong or as hot as Pinkie Pie's, but present and steady. It was a wonder we didn't melt, with her standing beside us.

“Toldja! That kick could make Discord himself stop cold. I ever told you about the time she kicked a dragon so hard she knocked his head clean off? Big sucker, too! Dragon big, not pony big. Anyway, you check the damages, I'll go get Zecora.”

One moment she was there, and the next there was only a Pinkie-shaped cloud of dust, slowly settling to the ground. Rockhoof chuckled as he stepped closer, and I swear the ground shook slightly as he did. “Can ye talk with that metal wedged that deep in ya?”

I shook my head.

He scratched his beard with a hoof as he examined me and the straps of my armor. “Been a good while since I saw a Hollow busted up as y'are. Though it looks like ye didn't have much to lose to begin with, eh?”

He chuckled to himself, then picked up my cold, dead hoof in his own, hot with life. Shaking it for me, he introduced himself. “Rockhoof, Blacksmith and Storykeeper for Ponyville. Weapons and armor and stories are my specialty, leastwise nowadays. You hold still now, but make some noise if'n I shift something I shouldn't.”

I nodded, and he took a seat on the ground beside me, tugging experimentally at the straps. “This looks like New ‘Questrian Army gear... Very solid construction, probably the only thing kept ye from getting fully mashed. A bit too many plates and pouches and pockets for my taste, though. Ye be a soldier, eh?”

Before I could answer, he tugged a loose strap and the breastplate shifted against my collarbone. It didn’t… hurt, as such, but the grinding of metal on bone coming just below my throat was unsettling, and I gurgled as he did, which he seemed to take as an answer. It stopped a moment later, as he found the rusted clip I’d tied together and started working to undo it.

There was a click that echoed through my teeth, and he loosened the skeleton of leather straps that kept the armor on and comfortable. He started removing pieces easily enough, legs and then the barrel plating, but as he moved up, he tugged at the chestplate. My chest shifted, things sliding and squirming and roiling inside. If I had breath, it would have caught sharply, but the best I could manage was a gurgling whine.

He glanced up and nodded. “Aye, just the big one. Good news ‘n bad news; once we get that plate out, ye should be fine. Might could even fix up the armor, if y’got a liking to it. But it’s gonna hurt like Tartarus itself when we pull it.”

“Speakin’ of…” He looked up and nodded, as I could hear hooves crunching over gravel once more, and feel the heat of Pinkie Pie approaching. “Plate’s wedged in there hard, ‘cept where it ain’t. Flesh grew right over the edges, and I reckon the bones did too on the inside. Gonna be a mess when ye pull it off, but both should be recoverable. My fur might go grey ‘afore then, though.”

A zebra entered my vision from the side, examining me as I lazily blinked at her. Slung around her barrel was a ratty pair of saddlebags, worn and fraying, and they clinked as she walked. She seemed to have a stack of golden necklaces tightly wrapped up her neck, and a pair of matching golden earrings, though one was broken and all her jewelry was old and tarnished. Her own eyes were worryingly sunken back, and I could see those same burning embers deep within her pupils if I looked closely.

After a moment, she sighed, looking at Pinkie next to me. “Pinkie, if you keep bringing these hollowed remnants to my door, we will both soon find my supplies are no more.”

She began to leave, but Pinkie leapt in front of her. “Hey hey hey no! I promise, this one’s actually aware and everything! She groaned at me!”

She? At least I had that. It was some small comfort, knowing at least a little bit about myself. They both turned back to look at me, and I tried my best to make some noise. Another sad whining moan barely escaped my lips.

Zecora shook her head and tried to leave again, but Pinkie stood on her hinds, clapping her hooves on Zecora’s shoulders. “Please? Pretty Pinkie please with cherries and frosting on top? I get it, you don’t want me bugging you while you work any more, but you’re already here. Last one, I promise. I’ll even make it a-”

“No!” Zecora interrupted, eyes wide with fear. “I will help as best I can, that’s not needed. I may have something in my bag that can help…” She froze, her tongue seeming to spasm in her mouth. Pinkie tilted her head as Zecora quietly mumbled to herself, eyes dipping down towards the ground.

“...as you plead...ed?” Pinkie offered, as she tried to help.

Zecora nodded, remaining silent as she trotted back to me, opening her saddlebags. She rooted around inside for a moment as Pinkie joined us, a worried look on her face. After a moment, she pulled out a glass bottle, green with age, and a clear liquid that sloshed inside.

“This is one of my more recent brews, the best of my efforts and the plants I could find. But be warned, while it can help restore the body, it cannot restore the soul nor mind. What is lost can never truly be returned, and those further in need can only be mourned.”

She inspected the metal plate jammed in my chest again, and then nodded. “Pinkie, look away, you will not want to see this nor get a stain. Rockhoof, please break her neck, so while she heals we can spare her the pain.” Pinkie cringed behind her but nodded, turning around and walking away a few steps, taking deep breaths.

I began to panic. What kind of help was this? Surely there had to be a better answer, a better way to knock me out than this! I felt thick hooves wrap around my neck, draw in tight. I let out a panicked gurgle as I looked around, hoping to find some way out, some method of escape-

Pain filled my neck, and no further, as I felt the crack reverberate through my skull. My vision tilted to the side as I tried to speak, tried to gasp, but nothing came out except my own black ichor once more. I heard words, but they sounded as though I was underwater. Distant, muted. They were slowly fading as my vision did, cold death creeping over me once more.

“We will need to loosen this plate before we pull it free. Push your shovel in here, we will cut…”

* * *

Fire filled my chest. Not the warm, embracing fire from within, but a cold, stinging fire, an attack on my senses. It was unnatural, and my own fire fought it. The two warred in my chest as my flesh boiled until it felt like sludge. My body melted under the heat like wax. It was too much.

My eyes shot open as I let out a strained, croaking cry. It met fluid in my throat, and I keeled over on my side as another coughing fit took me. I lay on my side on the ground, hacking and coughing black ichor across the bare dirt in front of me. It stained the soil, pooled on the top without sinking in or wetting it, and I couldn’t stop coughing.

Eventually, it subsided, and for the first time, I drew a shaky, labored breath. My chest continued to burn, my lungs continued to spasm, but I breathed slowly, air in, air out. It didn’t help the burn, and it was too much work to keep doing, so I let my lungs rest once more. At least they were clear, or so it seemed.

The ground was more comfortable than I cared to admit. Even with my cheek pressed against the hard surface, the hard-packed earth was alluring. I could rest here, I thought, for just a few moments. Then, when I was good and ready, I could see what the butchers had done to my body.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the fires warring inside me. Now that I was awake, they seemed to both be subsiding gradually. The twin burns became a scorch, then a simmer, eventually settling into a dull heat. The cold, unnatural fire that had attacked me finally dwindled to nothing, my own internal fire winning out over it, fighting it back. My chest was my own once more.

My attention drifted. Sounds began to filter in. There was the quiet murmur of conversation in the distance, too far to make out the words. Occasionally a set of hoofsteps drifted by, lethargic and unhurried. I couldn’t really tell, but it never seemed like the same pony twice. Nearby, a fire crackled. I was near it, but it was at least twenty leg-lengths away. Over it all, a rhythmic metal clang every couple seconds, of something metal being struck with a hammer.

I groaned as I opened my eyes again, and gathered my hooves below myself. Sitting upright was a struggle, but I managed it eventually, leaning back to inspect my chest. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but the metal plate was gone, as promised. Just like all my wounds before, like it had never been. But underneath, my hide still shifted too easily to be properly attached to my bones, and all the aches and pains from before still burned quietly throughout my body, joined by new ones in my chest and barrel. The only change seemed to be that the fur on my barrel seemed slightly scorched, as if it had been burned a very long time ago but had healed over nicely since.

My eyes were drawn to the fire in front of me, still burning and crackling. It was a decent campfire, but seemed to be fueled by white wood that was easily turning to ashes. Even in the dim light of sunset, it lit up the area, brightening it with calming, flickering light. Oddly enough, a blade had been stabbed deep into the flames, the blade red hot from the heat.

Then a blue hoof grabbed the hilt and pulled it free. Rockhoof was sitting next to the fire, an anvil in front of him and a blacksmith’s hammer in his hoof. He brought the hot blade to his eyes, inspecting it, before placing it on the anvil and bringing the hammer down atop it. Sparks and embers of hot metal scattered off as he pounded a few loose lumps of detritus off the blade, then placed it in a tall bucket to his side. There was a hissing noise and a cloud of steam as the sword cooled, before he turned, picking up a pair of tongs with another red-hot length of metal held in their claws.

He began hammering at the sword, as I stood on wobbly legs, and approached him slowly from behind. What I was planning, I don’t know, but I was angry and scared, and he had killed me before. And deep down, I felt this odd yearning… A strange hunger for fire, like the fire contained within the stallion.

The desire faded as he turned around; he’d heard my hoofsteps as I stumbled closer, and that yearning seemed to fade as we looked at each other. “Ah! You’re awake already, that’s a surprise. Guess Zecora’s brew did work, at least a bit.”

I nodded, and then something next to his anvil caught my eye—a shield, made of stainless steel, or perhaps silver. What really grabbed my attention was that it was polished to a shine, and I could see the slightly distorted reflection of smoke in the sunsetting sky above. His eyebrow raised as I trotted over to it, taking hold and closing my eyes as I positioned it in front of me.

“Lass… Brace yerself.”

I didn’t, and I regretted it. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by the sight of a rotting corpse, barely held together with mouldering fur and sickly flesh. Her face was emaciated, worn down and slackened slightly from time. Her mane was nearly gone, only strands of colorless fur remaining. The rest had all fallen out, lost to the wind. Her lips had pulled back as she decayed, revealing her teeth in a corpse’s rictus grin. Black ichor had dribbled from the corners of her mouth, staining the flesh and trailing down her neck.

Patches of muscle were exposed to the elements, and as she moved her head around to get a better look, the muscles moved too, the inner workings of the body exposed for all to see. I paused as I reached her body, and I realized her back looked strange. After a moment of staring, I realized it was because there was a pair of wings, folded, mouldering. I never felt them, couldn’t feel them now. Useless limbs, held in place by rigor mortis. Her eyes were the worst part—they snapped back up, and I looked deep into the sockets. They were totally gone, and only the burning embers of the eyeless remained.

She was... I was… one of the Eyeless. I had known, on some level. I had seen my hooves, my body, the condition I was in. I knew I wasn’t a pretty sight. I knew I couldn’t be better off than the others I had seen, the others I had killed. But I had hoped, regardless. Hoped that I had somehow escaped that sad fate, that some trace of my Equinity remained. That I had something left, at least.

The mare in the reflection started to cry, tears welling up from the back of the sockets, and the image became blurry. Strange, the shield had been so well polished only a moment ago…

I don’t know how long I sat there, sniffling and sobbing as every detail burned itself into my memory. I couldn’t force myself to move, nor did I want to. I just wanted to cry.

Time passed. Ponies talked in the distance. More walked past. Always, the endless clanging of hammer on anvil.

At some point, I realized I was curled up in a ball next to that anvil, still sobbing gently. The hard packed dirt I rested against accepted the moisture greedily, as I was occasionally showered by sparks from the endless hammering above. None of it really mattered to me. What was the point?

Deep inside me, I felt a warmth, and I huddled inwards tighter, coddling it with my body. This. I had this fire. That was all I really had, now. It wasn’t much, but it was something. If I could keep it safe, assuming I didn’t just die again, and somepony walking past didn’t take it from me while I was dead.

Time passed. The wind blew the acrid scent of smoke to my lungs, and I coughed gently, shifting in my fetal ball. Sparks showered from above, over and over again.

Then there was pink, and warmth. I was embraced by an inferno, burning my flesh, and I embraced it back, wishing for the fire to consume me. It failed to happen, but the fire did speak.

“Oh my gosh! You’re awake! How long were you sitting here like this? Jeez, I feel terrible, I shoulda been here when you did wake up so I could talk to you and then maybe you’d be okay and not Hollowing out, please please please don’t Hollow out, I swear everything’s gonna be okay, I promise!”

Pinkie Pie. The mare was hugging me. I felt ashamed, unfit to be hugged. I was ruined, horrifying, and she was so perfect. I felt like I was tainting her perfection just by being near her. But I did not turn away, did not force her back. I snuggled deeper into her shoulder like a foal being held by her mother, desperate for Pinkie Pie’s fire.

We stayed there for a little while, Pinkie scalding me with her hug, before Rockhoof spoke up. “Pinkie, lass. Ye’re crowding my anvil. Hug Hollows all sunset if ye like, but your mane’s gonna catch light where you’re sittin’.”

“Okie-doke.” Pinkie spoke with noticeably less cheer in her voice as she pulled back, gently breaking the hug, as much as I tried to cling to her for dear life. As she did, I looked once more at her face, and noticed it was only shy of the perfect image I thought I had seen when I first met her. The corners of her eyes were creased with crow’s feet, and they were dark as though she hadn’t slept in days. Her mane was fluffy and curled, but more than that, it was a mess, tangled and knotted. She must not have brushed it in a while.

Then she was smiling as she gently pulled me to my hooves, and those imperfections seemed to fade. “See? You’re okay. I gotcha. C’mon, let’s move over here.”

I trailed behind her, finally looking around, taking in the town around me as we walked. This seemed to be the town square of Ponyville, or at least, it had been once. The town hall was a burned-out husk, barely casting a shadow to the east. A few tents and lean-tos cobbled from scrap cloth and junk had been built, and other Eyeless (or Hollows, which seemed to be what Pinkie and Rockhoof had named them) were living out of them. Some lay still, watching the town as well, some stared at walls or the sky, while others talked amongst themselves.

Nearby on a park bench, a green unicorn quietly played a harp while a cream-yellow earth pony sat beside her, both deeply hollowed. Pinkie gave them both a happy wave as we passed, and the cream pony returned it while her friend seemed to be lost in the gentle, tinkling notes.

Something glittering on the skyline caught my eye, and I was in awe for a moment as I saw the sparkling exterior of a grand castle through the smoke that hung over the town. Even from where I was standing, I could see how it gleamed, like violet glass. It was towards the edge of town, away from the source of the smoke, but I resolved to investigate that castle as much as I could when I got the chance.

I turned my eyes back below the skyline. Looking down the street, a market had once been erected, though most of the tents were empty or had been torn down, presumably set up somewhere as housing. A few determined merchants continued trying to hawk wares to ponies with less fur than money, but only a few.

Pinkie paused to nuzzle a faded yellow Hollow manning one of the stands, who had seemed to have fallen asleep until Pinkie woke her up. “Hey Goldie! How's business?”

The Hollow blinked at her dumbly for a few seconds too long. “Uh.. it's, uh… slow. Uh... Pink… Pinkie Pie?”

Pinkie never stopped smiling, but those crow's feet returned. “Yup! Hang in there Golden Harvest, it'll pick up! Whatcha selling lately?”

The Hollow scrunched up her eyes, thinking as hard as she could. After a moment, she sighed, and turned around to look for herself. “Uh… pillows. And some knives, like you'd use to chop, uh… something…”

“Like carrots?” Pinkie offered.

“Carrots! Yeah!” Golden's face lit up, and her eyes flared just a little brighter. Then she looked confused. “I haven't seen any carrots lately, though…”

Pinkie leaned over the counter to hug her, and Golden jumped at the heat, before leaning into it. “It's okay, Goldie. I'm sure there'll be carrots soon, you just gotta keep an eye out and the stall running!”

The Hollow nodded, looking back at her wares as Pinkie pulled away. We continued walking onwards around the square, and I resumed looking around. Houses and buildings, empty shops or abandoned houses, all walled in the streets. Almost all of them had some sort of fire damage, from minor scorches and burn scars, to fully missing their roofs or having been burned down to the foundation.

“It’s not much to look at, I know, but Ponyville’s our home.” Pinkie said, still smiling as we walked around. “Sometimes things from the Everchaos come over the wall, but we can fight them off eventually before they do too much damage. Usually.”

I hadn’t seriously tried to talk before now, between the fluid filling my lungs and the damage to my chest. Even when I had, I had nopony to talk to. Now that I was among other ponies, living ponies, or at least as close as I was seemingly going to get, I figured it was worth another shot. My voice was croaky, and it cracked as I spoke. My throat felt raw, like I’d had a cheese grater forced down it. But for the first time in what seemed like a very long time, I asked a question.

“Ev...Ever...c-chaos?”

“Mm-hm!” Pinkie nodded. “It… well, it used to be called the Everfree, but then this big fire broke out and we started getting attacked all the time, well, more than we were already, I guess. It was already kind of a huge pain in the tuckus, but now it’s super, super deadly and on fire. If you’re curious we can go look at it from the wall!”

After a moment, she gasped. “Oh! Ohmygosh, you can talk!” Pinkie spun around to face me, and her wings flapped in excitement. “What’s your name? Where are you from? Do you remember anything, anypony? Do you remember what your talent is? When’s your birthday?”

I staggered back, startled, and she seemed to get the message, sheepishly backing off. “Ooops. Sorry, hehe, just excited! I was really really worried you were gonna hollow out, and now it really looks like you’re not going to! So, um, seriously though, what’s your name?”

Suddenly, my throat was dry. “Don’t… Don’t kn-know.”

“Aw.” Her face fell “Well… I’m gonna call you Holly, if that’s okay. There’s been a few Hollys before, but Hollyhock’s been missing for a really long time and the others don’t usually remember that I named them that, so…”

“H...Holly?” I asked, tentatively.

“Mm-hm! Short for Hollow Pony. Until we find your old name, or you remember it!”

Holly. It was an okay name. It might have even been mine. I nodded, and that seemed to make Pinkie happy. I bathed in her radiance as we kept walking, passing by a teenaged Unicorn that seemed less hollowed than most. Her eyes were intact, and her coat was not yet too dulled, a very light purple. She was holding a few crystals in her magic, while a hollowed adult unicorn with pink fur seemed to be teaching her about them.

“...and the thing about crystals in general is they just soak up magic like a sponge. This makes them exceptional as spell catalysts or for infusions, though the color of the crystal is surprisingly important in understanding which type of magic and element they’ll- oh, hey Pinkie!”

“Hiya Amethyst! Hiya Dinky! Teaching her about crystals?” We stopped as Pinkie greeted them, the small protege giving us a nod as she examined the crystals in the light.

The adult mare nodded. “Yup. Refresher on the basics, then I'm gonna teach her how to infuse them with basic elements.” She turned back to her student. “Of course, I’d be remiss to not teach you about some of the traditions and history of these crystals too. Take this black quartz for instance.”

She levitated a small bundle of cloth out of her saddlebags, and unwrapped it, revealing the black crystal inside. “Traditionally these are called Separation Charms, and they’re often given as gifts to friends going on long journeys to keep them safe. Quartz is pretty brittle though, so they don’t take charms or spells very well, and infusions don’t last long…”

We began walking away, Pinkie giving them a happy wave as we left. After we were out of earshot, she turned back to me. “I hope Starlight comes back soon. She’s been gone for a really long time. Dinky’s doing a really good job as the town’s Archmage, though.”

A name I recognized, vaguely, but I couldn’t recall why, and couldn’t put a face to it. The aches of my bones flared again as we kept walking, and we paused by a fountain in the middle of the town square that seemed like it once had water pumping through it. Now, it simply sat as a small concrete basin filled with ancient bits, green with verdigris.

Something had been bugging me since I woke up here in Ponyville. My throat cracked as I spoke, but Pinkie listened intently as I asked, “The… the sun. What’s...wrong with it?”

Pinkie blinked at me dumbly for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“It’s… not right. Doesn’t it ever… move?”

Pinkie stared at me for a good few seconds, and for a moment, I felt silly. It was the sun. It couldn’t change, couldn’t be weird. I was losing my mind.

Then she nodded. “Yeah. Not a lot of ponies remember that, though. It used to rise and set. Doc Brown even used to set his clocks by it.” She shook her head. “Ever since Celestia came back though, it’s stayed put. Supposedly it’s to give the army light by which to fight the demons, but we’ve been fighting for so long… Longer than anypony can remember. Especially since then, because after his clocks started winding down, Doc Brown hollowed out really quickly. He didn’t have anything to set them by any more, you see.”

Pinkie seemed to slump slightly, eyes drifting towards the ground. “He’s… still around, I think. Wandering, crazy, outside the walls. He was attacking ponies when Applejack kicked him out. I… helped her do it, because he just wasn’t himself.”

I hugged her tightly, and she brightened up, after a moment. “You should ask Rockhoof to tell you about Equestria. He remembers it better than I do, I’ve been focusing really hard on Ponyville.”

I cringed slightly. I wasn’t exactly excited to talk to Rockhoof again. He didn’t exactly seem the friendliest sort, but I nodded and broke the hug, looking back towards the burly stallion. He was still hammering away at a piece of metal on his anvil, apparently working through a long order of swords.

Pinkie saw my hesitation, and put a hoof on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about earlier, too. At least Zecora’s medicine worked, right? And Rockhoof’s really nice once you get him talking about history. He’s just…” She sucked in her teeth. “He doesn’t get why I’m trying to keep everypony cheered up, why I keep ’bothering’ with hollowed ponies like yourself. He’ll understand, see you’re not as far gone as the others.”

I nodded, and she smiled, before turning and trotting back towards another group of Hollows. As soon as she was gone, the very air felt cold around me, the fog chilling my fur in a way it hadn’t before. Shivering, I began trotting back to Rockhoof and the neverending rhythmic clang of his hammer on his anvil.

He was doing it too, I realized as I approached. Rockhoof was an earth pony, and yet he held his hammer in his hoof, or nearby his hoof, somehow. It was as though he held it in an invisible claw at the end of his leg. I racked my brain, hoping to remember anything like that from before, but my memories from before the bookstore were as foggy as ever.

He noticed as I approached him again. “Well then. Pinkie give you the tour?”

I nodded, sitting next to him. “Said… ask y-you about... Equestria?”

He paused in mid-swing, looking at me. “You don’t remember either, do ya lass?” Setting it down on the anvil, he turned to face me. “Well… Where to start... “

After a moment, he nodded. “When I was a young lad, back in my village, Equestria was this little kingdom down south. Even back then, there was Princess Celestia. She was part myth, but the Equestrians worshipped her. Built grand cities like Canterlot, great shrines to her, ‘cause the legend was that she made the sun rise and the moon set. When I came here… Ehh, long story, not much in the mood to tell it now. But let’s just say I skipped a thousand years, and she only seemed more powerful when we returned. Armies to her name, great gleaming towers of glass and steel and marble. Equestria was a few million ponies strong: pegasi, earth ponies, and unicorns all living together and making it what it was.

“Thing is, a few years after I got back, Celestia started getting sick all the time. Said her magic was getting stolen by the dragons. And Equestria militarized towards ‘em at a moment’s notice, these great armies making war on the big lizards just because she asked it.” Rockhoof shook his head. “That’s when I picked up the hammer and anvil here. We fought ‘em down to the last drake, but Celestia didn’t hardly get any better. That’s about when the Everfree lit up, and these demons started spilling out and attacking all the settlements around it, burning ‘em down to cinders. Thankfully we could hold ‘em back after sharpening our swords on the Dragonlands, but they just keep coming still today.”

“Celestia set out for somewhere out west, then, her golden guard in tow. And her sun followed, setting over the ocean and staying put. I reckon’ that’s when she lost control of it totally, because it hasn’t moved an inch since. Eventually she came back, taking control of the armies again, and fighting back the demons even more fiercely. That’s pretty much where we’ve been since, locked in this stalemate against the demons from the Everchaos with the sun frozen in sunset.”

I nodded, laying down on the ground to think. It was a lot to take in. After a few minutes, I looked back up to where he’d begun hammering again. “Why… Why c-can’t I… d-die?”

He scoffed. “Not just you, lass. Nopony can. We call it the Hollow Curse. Happened a little while after Cloudsdale fell, ponies just started getting back up when they died to the Demons. The more they died, the more corpsey they started to look. It takes a while too. Back when we still had clocks, would take weeks for a dead pony to get up. Like they never stop healing when their heart stops, and eventually their body is satisfied enough to start moving again.”

He paused in his hammering again, looking right at me. “Try not to die too much, yeah? The more you die, you more of yourself ye lose. Things you can’t ever get back once you lost ‘em. Your body, then your mind, your soul. Memories, feelings, anything rattling around in your skull rots and stays rotten. Eventually you’re just a mad Hollow, hurting anypony around you, searching for what you lost.”

After a moment, he glanced over at Pinkie, still wandering around and talking to the other Hollows of Ponyville. “Neither of us wants to see ye go hollow. More than you are, anyways. Think I would’ve already myself, if it weren’t for-”

There was a shout from one end of the square, and we both turned to look. A ragged Hollow, with faded yellow fur and wild eyes, had bolted into the square, shouting about something. “Applejack! She’s comin’, hide!”

Meaningless to me, but it galvanized a few Hollows into moving, pulling others up with them and dragging them away. Some followed, some seemed confused, but the herd began to disperse, ducking into the empty buildings of the town square, running down alleys, or hiding behind rotted barrels.

Rockhoof’s eyes narrowed. “Damn. Lass, ye better hide too. That moron riled them up again...”

Hide? Hide where? Panicking now, I glanced around. Rockhoof had a cart nearby he’d been using to store his tools and weapons he was working on. It was a broken-down mess of rotting wood and rust, with one of the wheels having snapped off at the axle and the cart resting on the remaining one at a perilous angle, but the shadows under it looked deep enough. I dropped to the ground and scuttled under it like a rat, while Rockhoof watched, furrowing his brow at my choice in hiding spots. There was no time to hide elsewhere though.

From under there, I also had a fairly decent view of the town square around me. With only the least-hollowed ponies, or those without any others to take care of them remaining, a heavy silence fell over the square, interrupted only by the slow hammering of Rockhoof back at his anvil. Sound carried well, now.

Pinkie stood in sharp contrast to the Hollows that had fled, striding out to the middle of the square, not far from the little bonfire. She was facing away from me, but I could see her legs shaking as she waited.

She didn’t have to wait long. After a moment, there was a sound, the galloping of hooves, and four soldiers came around the corner like wild dogs, turning sharply as they began to spread out, searching. Instantly, I recognized the Eyeless Commander leading the pack. She kept her shotgun drawn, cracked open over her foreleg, but she slowed down to a stop as she approached Pinkie.

“Howdy, Pinkie.”

“Heya, Cuz.” There was little excitement in her voice now, simply resignation.

If the Commander noticed, she didn’t seem to care. “You see a Hollow come running down the street here? Yellow fur, brown mane?”

“You mean Caramel?” Pinkie asked with a sigh.

The Commander nodded. “So you do know him. Good. Where’s the bastard holed up? Caught him nosing around the south gate.”

Pinkie shook her head. “I haven’t seen him, Applejack. But I do remember him. Don’t you?”

Shrugging, Applejack turned back to the other soldiers at her heels. “Spread out, watch the alleys. Might still make a run for it.” They nodded, and she turned back to Pinkie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t even remember his name these days, do you?”

Applejack stared at her, the embers of her eyes flickering gently. “Why would I remember a thievin’ bastard Hollow?”

“He used to be your cousin, Applejack. A distant one, sure, but he was an Apple once.”

She snorted. “Apples don’t go hollow, Pinkie. Guess I ain’t never told you that before, or maybe you’re goin’ Hollow yourself. We’re hardy stock, don’t let it get to us. Now, you gonna help us track him down, or you wasting my time?”

“No time left to waste.” Pinkie sighed. “I’m not going to help, Applejack. Please, let it go.”

Applejack snorted again. “Hah! Like Tartarus I will. You know we can’t keep Hollows in town, Pinkie, they’ll make others go hollow, make it spread. We gotta keep ‘em out, throw ‘em out if any get in.” She glanced around the square. “Gonna have to start busting down doors soon, making sure you ain’t hiding any here. You got a problem with that?”

Everything about Pinkie’s body said that yes, yes she did have a problem with that. “I… no. Go ahead. There’s… nothing to hide here in town, Applejack. All the monsters are outside the walls.”

“Reckon we’ll see about that.” In a flash, her hinds snapped out, and a stack of barrels exploded into splinters. She rolled with the move, twisting to bring her shotgun to bear as she swept the debris for anypony who’d been hiding in them. But there was none, and she let out an annoyed snort as she continued investigating the square.

Her eyes swept the cart where I was hiding, and I froze, hoping I was as hidden in shadow behind the axle as I hoped. Thankfully she moved on, nodding to Rockhoof. “Blacksmith. How’re them swords and armor comin’ along?”

“Decent,” Rockhoof grunted. “You get word about when the next resupply shipment is coming? Runnin’ out of old swords to sharpen up and resmelt.”

Applejack made a noncommittal grunt, and resumed her search. After a moment, her embers landed on a lean-to, trailing cloth flapping gently in the wind. She grabbed a flap of the tent with her teeth, before she flicked her head and ripped the canvas away. The hollowed unicorn and her earth pony friend had been huddled together under the cloth, and they withered under Applejack’s gaze while the militia ponies around them drew their weapons.

Applejack guffawed in laughter as she dropped the remains of the tent. “Knew it. Pinkie, y'all got an explanation for this?”

Growling under her breath, she nodded. “Yes. That’s Lyra and Bon-Bon. You’ve known them for years, Applejack. You went to their wedding. Please don’t do anything rash-”

“I don’t recognize ‘em. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, Pinkie, you’re hiding these rogue Hollows! Now, where are the rest?” She drew her shotgun and pointed it threateningly at Lyra, but if the green unicorn noticed, she didn’t seem to terribly care. Slowly, delicately, her hooves twitched at her breast as though she were still playing her harp. At her side, the cream earth pony hugged her tightly, and glared at Applejack harshly enough for the both of them.

Applejack just snorted again as she looked between her captives and Pinkie. “Best tell me, ‘afore this Hollow gets something a lot worse than thrown outta town.”

“I’m going with her,” growled the earth pony, as she pushed herself in front of the Hollowed green unicorn. “Wherever she goes, I go with her.”

“Suits me.” Applejack replied, with a shrug. “Pinkie. Where’s the others?”

Pinkie’s teeth were grit tightly. “There are no others, Applejack. You’re killing the town, you realize that? Every time we do this dance, have this talk, we lose ponies. Ponyville doesn’t have many more to lose, and then we’ll just be ‘-ville.”

“Gonna have less if there’s Hollows here, spreading their damn curse.” Applejack snapped her shotgun’s breech open, to check that it was loaded. “Now, that's your final answer? Ain’t hiding any more?”

Pinkie hesitated, and Applejack only raised an eyeless eyebrow. “Ah can tell when you’re lyin’, ya know. Just so you're sure.”

Pinkie sighed, then looked sadly at the two hollows. “Yes. I’m sure. I’m sorry-”

Applejack cut her off with a snarl. “Don’t apologize, Pinkie. Nothin’ to be done for ‘em.” After a moment, she nodded. “Reckon’ I believe you though. Now, you two, follow behind. You go running or try to fight, y’all are gonna get thrown outside with a belly full of lead. Won’t be outrunning any demons then.”

The other soldiers drew in close as Pinkie started sniffling, and Applejack began leading the pair out of the Square. As they left, we could just hear Applejack drawl, “An’ keep an eye out for that yellow bastard. Might still be around here.”

As soon as they were gone, the sniffling fell apart into full-on sobbing, and Pinkie collapsed against the side of the cart, where I was hiding. I think I startled her when I crawled out next to her, but after a moment, she eagerly hugged me, and pulled Rockhoof in close to join her. As the rest of Ponyville’s residents filtered back out of their hiding places, Pinkie sighed.

“Welcome to Ponyville, Holly.”

Author's Note:

So this is a BIG chapter, not just in word count also in how many concepts and characters and details of the setting are introduced all at once. It's another chapter that went through several revisions, and I still feel like it's not my BEST work, but I do feel comfortable where it is. When I had finished this chapter, I felt confident in my decision to publish, although I did hold off in order to get some more chapters up and posted as a buffer.

The song for this chapter is: The Be Good Tanyas - Waiting around to die
(I have listened to the original, but I prefer this version, and feel like how slow and quiet this cover is makes it much more suited to hollowed and melancholic Ponyville.)

I've also got an April Fool's chapter prepped to post, although I'm not sure if I'll post it next week or the week after, as it would fit better tonally. This chapter ends rather heavily, and having a "joke" chapter follow it up feels distasteful, because of that.

As always, if you enjoyed the story, I have a Ko-Fi set up to serve as a tip jar!
https://ko-fi.com/type_writer

4/8/20 - Minor update for geographical consistency. Swapped two mentions of "east" and "west." Quick explanation; Equestria's sun rises in the West and sets in the East. There's a good reason for this, I promise.

6/2/2020 - Lots of very minor phrasing changes, as well as typo and tense corrections, as requested by EQD as part of the story submission process.

Comments

[Quakeponi]

Wow, this is going places I didn't expect. I really like this story so far!

[sandbag]

Loving it so far. Can't wait for the next chapter.

[Non Uberis]

Big part here that threw me: Pinkie Pie is mentioned as having a horn when she's carrying Holly? Made me think this was unicorn or even alicorn Pinkie, which seemed like it might make sense with how much force of personality she still has in this world of hollows (could've even been like Gwynevere parallel in a way), but if that was the case I would have thought there'd be more of a big deal made out of it, and yet it doesn't get brought up again. Not sure if purposeful and going to be important later or if it was just a mistake.

[Type_Writer]

10204730
Very definitely not a mistake, heh. Though I do appreciate the attention to detail!

[Vesper Skies]

Pinkie is an alicorn quite interesting

[Love able chaos]

Princess Pinkie and Applejack's kind of an asshole in this interesting.

[Stoner Dash]

This is an excellent story so far! Im reading it in the downtime while I wait to be summoned. \ [T] /

[Sylica telca]

Oh man.... how many times has applejack died? Its actually really sad 😢

[Sylica telca]

I hope our holly regains her normal body again

[Teraunce]

Wow! AJ has gone so hollow she's only a couple deaths away from being feral.