> Fallen Leaves
>  by SilentBelle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1 - His Choice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Fallen Leaves - Chapter 1: His Choice
By: SilentBelle


His horn glowed a fiery orange from its magic, which ignited his tear-spattered vision. With the tight claw of fear gripping his throat, and doubt bringing a slight tremor to his legs, he drew a few ragged breaths to steady himself. He closed his eyes and set the world around him out of his mind. He focused solely upon the spell before him, it was all that mattered. He couldn't afford to mess up now.

Almost there, he told himself, as he felt his spell touch down on the figure before him. He willed warmth into its once-cool form. It's working! He felt a smile creep across his lips and hardened his resolve.

He flared his magic, feeding it into the two separate spells: warmth and movement. He heard the sounds of breathing falling into sync with his own and he felt the heartbeat, so faint, pulsing along, echoing his own. Then there was a larger movement. Standing? Yes, I knew it would work! It had to!

He dared to open his eyes to look upon the subject of his spell. A pale, beige-coated mare stood shakily before him, taking laboured breaths. Mother! He forced more magic into the spell. He projected it as a warm and loving caress, which kept the mare from collapsing to the floor. She was standing, and breathing. Just wait a minute and you’ll be back. I promise! I can fix this!

A movement caught his eye, even as he continued to feed the spell. The mare's eyelids fluttered slightly and then opened. But the soft pink eyes inside did not show any reaction to the world before her. They just gave a blank stare, right past the young stallion.

No! Come on, look at me! Focus! Please! You have to! He would have shouted the thoughts had he air to spare in his own lungs. Don't give up on me! You promised me you wouldn't give up!

“Willow!” a shout came as the front door to the house slammed open. “What in Tartarus is going on in here?!”

Willow turned to see his brother standing in the doorway, a large silver-coated pegasus stallion, with fiery golden eyes. “A-Argent? What are you doing back already?” As he spoke, Willow felt the spell beginning to slip from his grasp. With a grunt, he turned back to the task before him. “Just a bit more. Come on, focus damn it!”

“Willow, is that...?” Argent couldn't mask the horror in his voice. “What have you done to her?!”

Willow turned in time to see his brother's hoof collide with his horn. The blow took his legs out from under him, and he reeled backward, crashing into nearby wall. His tenuous grip on the spell slipped entirely.

“No! The spell!” Willow managed to shout as his mother fell to the ground as a once-again lifeless shell. Magic shot out from his horn, crashing into the the walls of the living room, carving jagged dark scorches into the wood and crashing into his mother’s body with a sizzling snap.

“Mother!” Willow pulled himself back to his hooves and ran toward her body. “Argent, what have you done?!”

His brother, however, didn't stop his assault, and slammed into Willow before he made it halfway across the room. The magic outburst wasn't enough to faze a pegasus who had the makings of a royal guard. If anything, it only spurred him into further action.

“I could ask you the same thing, brother!” Argent shouted as he pulled Willow to the ground and pinned him. Willow felt a sharp twinge as his brother's hoof smashed hard against his horn. “That magic! What were you doing to mother?!”

The pain was nearly unbearable, and Willow gave up any attempts to struggle against his older brother's grip. He began to shake, and tears flowed from his eyes. “Damn it! I was trying to save her! I was so close, so bloody close! Just a bit more and I could have-”

“She's dead, damn you! She died this morning!” Argent tightened his grip. “And you go defiling her body like this?! You think that's what she wanted?!”

“She wanted to live!” Willow sputtered. “She promised she wouldn't give up!

“Stop being delusional! Everypony has to pass on eventually!” his brother shouted, and Willow could feel warm tears fall into his mane. “We all knew she was going to pass on. I did, you did, and she did. We all did...”

“She said she wouldn't... She said...” Willow sobbed into the floorboards as he struggled to raise his head. Out of the corner of his eyes, he managed to see a motionless, charred husk. The stray strands of her fiery hair were the only indication that it had once been his mother’s body.

“And now we can't even have a proper funeral! Look at what your magic did to her for Celestia's sake!”

Willow took in the sight in earnest. The the ink runes he had scrawled on the floorboards now smoked and the room was filled with the distinct smell of burned wood, mixed with charred hair and flesh. At the center of the runes, his mother lay, sprawled on her side, seemingly more lifeless than ever. All that had made her beautiful and whole had been shattered. Her flesh, a blackened mess, and small white sections where bone peaked free from ashen pile. All because Argent had interrupted him.

Willow’s eyes locked on the the few strands of her red hair.


* * *


“Mother,” Willow called out happily as he entered the bedroom. “You’re awake. How are you feeling today?”

She gave him a welcoming smile as she slowly worked at her mane with a hoof-brush. “I’m fine today, thank you for asking, dear.” She dragged herself into a determined sitting position. “I was just thinking, once I finish brushing my mane, we could go for a walk and see your br-” She was interrupted by a wave of wracking coughs and the brush slipped off of her hoof.

Willow was at her side in an instant, rubbing her back as the coughing fit abated, and slowly eased her back into bed. “Mother, it’s okay. I’ll just tell Argent to visit with you when I see him next. Just rest for now. Soon enough we can go out and visit Argent whenever you want.” Willow picked up the hoof-brush with his magic and began running it through her silky hair.

“I’m so sorry for putting you through this, Willow.” She reached out with one hoof and managed to snag the brush, at the same time she ran her other hoof through Willow’s hair. “I know I’m not very strong, but let me at least do this. Each brush is calming, and each time, it reminds me of you, Willow. You’ll always come back, like a fiery leaf the never falls from the tree.”

Willow, ran a hoof of his own through his hair. “I promise, mother. I’ll never leave you. I’ll always be here for you.” I’ll find a cure.


* * *


“You know, as well as I do, that this kind of magic is forbidden. Using magic on the dead… Oh, mother...” Argent let out a haunted whisper, and moved toward the door. He glanced back, giving Willow a disgusted look. He took a deep breath and hardened his expression. “I'm going to tell the authorities what happened here. After that, I'm going to Canterlot—like mother wanted—and leaving this sad life behind. Don't cause the guards too much trouble when they arrive. I'll tell them that you acted out of grief.” He walked out the door, without looking back. “Goodbye, Brother.”

“So you're leaving just like that? What about mother? What about her funeral?!” Willow shouted as he struggled to get up on his hooves.

“There isn't going to be a funeral any time soon. Not after what you did here! They'll take her body and have to perform an autopsy and determine what you did to her. This is goodbye, Willow.” Argent merely shook his head one last time, and took to the skies, the door slowly swinging to a close behind him.

What I did to her? Willow slumped in front of his mother's remains. I was just trying to save her. Is that such a bad thing? The sickness took her, and I was just trying to stop it, to bring her back. Was it a mistake? What if it had worked, Argent? Wouldn't you be happy that she was alive like she's supposed to be? He shook his head. No! I wasn't wrong! I just wasn't fast enough. If only I had helped her right away. If only I had been there when she died, I could have saved her.

Argent is wrong! I did the right thing, I know I did. Trying and failing is better than doing nothing at all, and he did absolutely nothing to help her! Now he's going to send the guards after me, just for trying to help? Willow pulled himself off the floor. The guards won't listen to me. They'll think I'm mad with grief, while Argent's always been a top candidate in their books; they'll take his word over mine any day.

Willow shot a glance out of the window and noted the nearby woods. If I leave now, they won't be able to catch me in time; they'd never waste the time on a hunting me through the woods. They don't have the resources to spare for a search. He looked back down at his mangled mother and winced. Am I just running away?

No! he shook his head. I'm stopping them from performing an unjust action. I did nothing wrong, and I'll prove it when I can. But I can't if I just stay here!

He got into motion even as he cobbled his plan together. He ran up the stairs to his room and found his half-empty brown saddlebags and quickly used his magic to strap them onto his back. Where will I even go? he wondered as he quickly looked over his shelves of books on medicines, magic, and anatomy. He shook his head at the impracticality of carrying books with him into the wilderness. He grabbed a small kit of medical utensils and shoved it into his bag.

'Where' doesn't matter, I'll figure that out on the way. It's early summer, so it shouldn't be much worse than camping. I'll have plenty of time to figure out what to do when I'm on the move. For now, I'll just grab what I need.

Willow made his way downstairs and threw open all of cupboards with his magic and filled his bags with some dried foods, but mostly he picked out some items with more of a utilitarian focus: a small hatchet with a holster that fit snugly at his left side, a knife, some scissors, a canister of water, and a length of rope.

He frantically cast one last glance at all the cupboards. I'm certain to have forgotten something, but there's no time, I've tarried long enough as is.

Willow moved to the entrance and forced himself to look into the living room one last time. “I'm sorry, mother. I wasn't good enough to save you. But I won't give up, I will make you proud. Goodbye.” He ran out the door, not bothering to close it behind him.


* * *


Amber trotted away from the sturdy wooden house, quickly and quietly. She knew her brothers, and especially her father, would be entirely unamused when they found out that she hadn't done her morning chores, but she didn't care. Let them be angry, she thought, spitefully. All they ever want me to do is gather acorns and cut wood around the 'farm'.

She made her way across the open field toward the Autumn Wood. About half its trees had coloured leaves and the other half held the vibrant green leaves of early summer. Who ever heard of running an acorn farm, anyway? We could have a proper orchard with delicious fruit, or a field full of vegetables like our neighbors. Not those dumb oak trees.

Her half-hearted indignation came to a halt as she caught sight of a figure dashing across the open field in front of her, heading toward the Autumn Wood. That light brown coat, and red and orange mane and tail were unmistakable at this distance. She smiled to see her best friend. Sweet, how lucky! And if I play my cards right, I should be able to use him as an excuse for skipping out on chores. A smiled crept onto her lips as she ran toward Willow.

“Hey, Willow!” she shouted as she chased after him. “What brings you out here this early in the morning?!”

If Willow had heard her, he had certainly paid her calls no heed. Amber frowned as she noted the saddlebags he was carrying. Going to look for more medicinal herbs in the forest? Didn't we do that just two days ago? She watched him until he disappeared past the threshold of the forest, his form blending in with the surrounding flora. With that coat and hair, he always had a way of blending in with the perpetual half-autumn of the woods.

Amber looked back at her own body, with her deeper brown coat coupled with her solid green mane and tail, a playful smile crept onto her lips. You aren't the only one who looks like a tree, Willow! She let out a small laugh as she chased after him into the woods. Don't think that you can get away from me so easily!

At the edge of the woods, she turned her gaze toward the ground and looked for the telltale signs of Willow's passing. Her eyes were quick to spot the disturbed leaves, freshly snapped bush branches and deep tracks.

“Hah! Sprinting through the forest?” Amber asked aloud and laughed at his blatant trail. “You're making this far too easy!”

She took after the trail at a quick trot, normally she would have walked when following tracks through the woods, but Willow had done such a good job at at making the tracks, she needed only to give the surrounding area the slightest of glances to follow the trail.

As she passed through the colourful forest, she wondered at what herbs or plant he could possibly be looking for. Willow bark? Probably not... We've already passed a bunch of the trees. Chamomile, lavender, poppies... She shook her head free of the thoughts. Hay if I ever know what Willow's going to be looking for out here. He's the doctor, not me. I'll just have to ask him myself.

She quietly continued onward, the dead leaves creating a cold, wet caress for her hooves, muffling her movement until it was as quiet as the sound of her own breath. And the best way to get a truthful answer out of a pony is to catch them off-guard.

A couple minutes later, she passed a low-hanging golden bough of a large birch tree and spotted her prey. Willow had stopped running and appeared to be sitting on the ground amidst a number of bushes. Amber didn't remember the name of those particular plants, but she grinned at how focused he appeared to be.

Quickly, she planned her approach and slowed her pace down to a silent walk. She edged her way between various shrubs and ducked her head under branches, always making sure not to rustle the plants any more than she had to.

With only a large bramble bush separating her from her target, she stepped out behind him, a grin wide on her face.

He hadn't heard her, he remained hunched over in front of the bush. His two-toned red and orange hair was an uncombed mess, and his body shook slightly, as if shivering.

Amber's smile fell into a frown of concern. “Willow,” she called out tentatively, “are you o-”

Willow jumped up and let out surprised, raspy cry. He spun around while his horn sparked to life. His yellow eyes quivered as much as his body had been, and tears stained his face.

Amber felt his magic encompass her. It was a chilling feeling, as if the air around her had become solid, holding her in place. She felt her eyelids beginning to close of their own volition. Sedative magic?“W-Willow! What the hay?! Cut it out, I didn't mean to startle you. Its me, Amber!”

The unicorn blinked and his eyes widened. “Amber?” he asked in horror. The magic dissipated and Willow stumbled backward. “I'm sorry! I didn't think it would be you.”

With a shake of her head, Amber walked right up to him and gave him a wilting stare. The young stallion turned his head nervously at her approach.

“Willow what happened?” She noticed the unicorn flinch at the question, and Amber gasped. “Could it be your mother? Did she-?”

Willow turned back to face her and pulled her into a hug. Tears fell, staining her coat. “Damn it, Amber! She wasn't supposed to die! If only I had been faster! If only I had known! I could have been there, by her side, instead of waking up to find her like that!”

“Willow, I'm so sorry.” Amber tightened the embrace and felt tears of her own cloud her vision. So, she's gone? Even after years of watching Willow's mother waste away, it seemed so disturbingly false. Even behind the sickness, Amber had always respected and looked up to the strong mare that had faced everyday unflinchingly. Maybe I just assumed that she was a golden leaf that was never going to fall from its branches.

A gust of wind stroked the uppermost reaches of the taller trees causing a rustling rain of autumnal leaves to fall. A veil of reds, yellows and browns encompassed the two ponies, and Amber was content to share in Willows embrace until his tears stopped.

“We should probably head back to town,” Amber said solemnly, after a while had passed. She gently eased herself from his embrace. “Your brother is probably wondering where you are, and the whole town will be preparing for the funeral. Besides, my brothers are probably out looking for me by now.” She let out an awkward chuckle.

“I can't,” Willow muttered bitterly. “I made my choice. I'm going to leave Autumn's Reach.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Amber quirked an eyebrow. “Your mother just died, you can't just-”

“I know she died, damn it!” He kicked up a spray of decaying leaf matter from the forest floor and shook his head. “I know what happened, Amber. And I can't go back.”

Amber shot him a measuring look. “Why are you running away, Willow? I know the funeral won't be easy, but I'm here with you. The whole town will be there too. You aren't alone.” She rested a hoof on his shoulder. “So come on, let's head back to town. Okay?”

“No.” He brushed her hoof firmly aside and began walking away from her, deeper into the woods. “I can't go back. I need to go.”

“But why?!” Amber shouted in frustration and ran up beside him. “Why are you leaving? Why are you running away?”

“I'm not running away!” Willow said as he ducked under a branch of a small elm tree. “I'm moving on, damn it!”

“Moving on would involve going back to the village to mourn with the whole town, not running away from it. What the hay aren't you telling me?!” Amber yelled at him. “I thought we were friends, Willow! What else happened? It has to do with Argent, doesn't it?”

He rounded on her, and stared at her with his deep yellow eyes. They glistened from the tears he had shed, but there was a certain sense of strength in the stare that he held, which made Amber uneasy. “It's because you're my friend that I'm not telling you. Can't you see that I don't want to drag you into this?”

“And can't you see that I care about you? I want to help you.” Amber turned her gaze from his intense expression and looked at a nearby pine laced with red needles. “I can handle whatever it is that you are hiding from me, we're both adults. Stop treating me like some dumb foal! I'm going to follow you until you get it through your thick skull to go back to the village!”

“I know you're not dumb.” He sighed and came to a stop, resting against a tree trunk. “But I don't want to ruin your life by dragging you into this. Go home, Amber. You have a loving family that would miss you if you got caught up in this. I can't do that to you.”

Moving up to him, Amber reached out and wrenched him away from the tree. “I'm my own mare!” she shouted at him as he tumbled into the thick carpet decaying leaves. Now you tell me what in Tartarus happened and I'll be the one to decide whether or not my whole life is ruined! Don't keep secrets from me, Willow! It doesn't matter what happened, I want to know. So spill it!”

“I... I tried to bring her back...” Willow said quietly, his voice became a chill whisper.

Amber blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Argent and I, we woke up to find her... dead. I sat there, stunned for a while. I couldn't believe it... I still can't. After a while Argent told me he was going to tell the authorities what had happened and make the proper arrangements: paperwork, funeral plans...” Willow shook his head. “He left, and I was desperate, she couldn't be gone. So I used my magic. I warmed her, got her lungs pumping again, and her heart beating again. She was standing, breathing, and even looking around by the time Argent came back. I almost saved her Amber!” Willow's eyes were desperate and pleading, begging Amber to understand. “But then Argent stopped me before I could get her to a self-sustaining state.”

“Willow... you tried to bring her back from the dead? That's necromancy. It's forbidden.” Amber couldn't mask the fear in her voice.

“I was going to save her, Amber! Necromancy is where you use a dead body for your own means!” he rebuked and pulled himself off the carpet of decaying foliage. He gave her a fiery glare, daring to be challenged. “You know it's my dream to be a doctor! What is a doctor if not a pony who aims to stave off death at every possible turn? I've studied for years: anatomy, healing magics, herbs, and poultices. And I would have saved her! I was so damn close! If only Argent hadn't interrupted...”

“So that's why you can't go back? Your brother...” Amber trailed off. She knew Argent to be a kind and loving brother, though he had a rigid adherence to duty and law that trumped all else. He was aiming to be part of the royal army, and Amber knew that he had the attention of some of the Canterlot royalty. It was all too clear in Amber's mind what Argent would have done, given the circumstances. “Argent... didn't take kindly to your attempt to save her.”

Willow let out a bitter laugh. “If I go back I'll be arrested and probably tossed into prison or worse.” He walked past Amber and shook his head. “Look, you know I'd accept such a punishment if I thought I had done wrong—if I really deserved it. But I know I wasn't wrong, Amber. I know I was close. I just wanted to save one life, and just because of this one failure, I'm not going to let that stop me. You've said it to me before, many times. I have a gift with healing, Amber, and I'm not about to let that go to waste while I rot in a some prison. That's why I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

Amber looked at him as he moved deeper into the woods. It was strange the way her idyllic friend had seeming changed into a whole new stallion from who he was only yesterday. Choices and growing up? she wondered. She thought back to her family farm, her two brothers, her mother and father. Well, Willow, you aren't the only one that can make important choices. With a curt nod to herself, she ran after the unicorn before he all but blended in with the remaining foliage.

“Hey, Willow! Wait for me, I'm coming with you!”

Willow turned in surprise, and his look of disappointment was plain to see. “Damn it, Amber. Why? This isn't some dumb game of tag! Following me will ruin your life as you know it!”

“I know that, you idiot. I did give it a bit of thought, and I'm not about to let my best friend just disappear on me. Look, we both made our choices, so there's no sense in arguing about it further,” she reasoned with a sad smile. “Besides... remember that promise you made me last year?”

“Promise?” Willow glanced at her nervously.

“Seriously? You don't remember?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Remember, you said you were going to head to Canterlot to become a bona fide doctor, and that you'd take me to Canterlot with you when you went? You know, you aren't the only one who wanted to get outta this place.”

“But that was under the assumption that mother would get stable enough to travel,” Willow protested.

“Well, things change, Willow. If I don't leave with you now, I'd probably just run away from home sooner rather than later, anyways. We might as well travel together now. Two birds with one stone, or something like that.”

“That's a poor reason...” he said with a shake of his head.

“What? You really think a mare would want to travel alone in times like these?” she argued back as they passed through the colourful woods. “It's reassuring to know you have a friend watching your back when some random gryphon could come and assault you out of the blue.”

“We both know there haven't been any major skirmishes or battles for the last five years, Amber. I think you'd be as safe by yourself as you would be with me. Besides you really think I’d be any help if we came across gryphons?”

Amber offered a small grin. “Well can't you at least admit that you'd enjoy the company as we travel?”

“I suppose there's that,” he admitted with small, defeated sigh.


* * *


Their hoof-falls fell in a rhythmic slog on the decaying foliage of the forest floor. The wind gusted through the trees' leaves as predictably as an ailing pony's fit of coughing. The coloured leaves graced the two in small showers, but their colour held no beauty to Willow's eyes. He only saw the paling coat of his mother in every leaf. A leaf that I couldn't save... I just let her fall to the ground...

Willow shot a small glance at the mare following behind him, her bark-brown coat and green hair would have been perfect camouflage if they were traveling through any other forest. Why did she have to follow me? I didn't want to drag her into this. Damn it, she should be back at Autumn's Reach. Another wave of doubt crashed against him. We've only been gone for three hours, we could still easily head back before the day is over... Head back so I can just be wrongfully arrested? No! That wouldn't serve any purpose...

“Hmm? What is it, Willow?” Amber asked with a small grin. “Thinking of heading back home?”

“I told you, I'm not going back. I'm just trying to figure out where we should go...”

“What? You ran away without planning out where to go?” Amber moved up beside him. “That's not like you, Willow. Don't you always complain about my 'impulsive decisions'?”

“Well, I didn't exactly have much time to plan,” he retorted and glared at her. And now that you're here, it just complicates matters further... “I guess we'll bring you to Canterlot. Isn't that where you always wanted to go?”

She paused for a moment then scowled. “Hey! What do you mean you'll bring me to Canterlot? Do you just plan on dumping me there?”

“Amber, I told you before, this isn't a game! I'm sure that my brother has told the authorities in no uncertain terms that I'm a criminal. I'll have to stay away from guards from now on. Which means I won't be able to enter a city like Canterlot.”

“You really think that Argent would do that? You're family,” she insisted as she poked a hoof into one of Willow's saddlebags. In a moment she procured a metal container of water and unscrewed the stopper. She took a long swig of water before continuing. “Didn't Argent give up on moving to Canterlot in order to stay with your mother? He cared for her. Surely he wouldn't want you to be taken to a dungeon or anything.”

“He cared about mother?” Willow asked in disgust as he pulled the water flask back with his magic, closed it, and quickly stowed it back into his bags. “Sure, Argent stayed in Autumn's Reach while mother was sick. But where was he when she was coughing up blood? Where was he when mother was shedding tears of worry over whether or not she would see him before she passed on? Where was he when she actually needed him?!” Willow gave Amber an accusing look. “He was around, but he was never home. He should have just gone to Canterlot. At least it would have made it so I didn't have to lie to her... I always had to promise her that if she just got some more sleep she'd see him in the morning. But he never visited with her beyond a stray look through the doorway. He's always cared more about the law and becoming a royal guard than about family.”

“You can't mean that, Willow...”

“Can't I? I did my best to save her. I would have saved her if it weren't for him! All he ever did was stay away from her and ask me how she was doing, instead of asking her!” Willow gave a nearby tree a solid buck and heard the bark splinter beneath his hoof. “And after all that, he's making me out to be a criminal? Let me ask you this, Amber. If he really cared for his family, would he have given up on mother and disowned me? I think it's painfully obvious how much he cares about family.”

“I-I-” Amber was at a loss for words. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean...” she managed, and lowered her head.

“Damn it! No, Amber...” Willow's voice fell to a whisper. “I didn't mean to say that to you. None of this is your fault, and I don't want to drag you into this.”

“I know it's not my fault!” she said and rounded on him. Her aquamarine eyes widened with indignation. “But I can still be sorry for you even if I had nothing to do with it! And get over yourself, Willow. I don't care if you don't want me involved with this, you didn't drag me into it! I chose to be involved and now I am. There's no turning back on that. You're my best friend, and I'm not about to let you just go on alone and disappear, never to hear from you again. So get that through your damnably thick skull already!”

Willow let out a bitter laugh. “Well, I definitely know something strange has happened when you are the one calling me 'thick-skulled'. Look, I'm sorry I've been a bit of an idiot for the last few hours.” He let out a small sigh. “And thanks for following me. I do appreciate the company.”

“A bit of an idiot?” Amber laughed coldly. They walked on at a sullen pace for a while until Amber spoke once again. Her habitual smile had made its way back to her lips. “So, where are we going to go?”

“We'll stick to the woods and travel along the border. We should be able to stay ahead of any news of what happened back in Autumn's Reach,” Willow reasoned. “Maybe there will be a small town in need of somepony with my training. I'll serve no useful purpose if I'm just locked up in some dungeon.”

“How serious of a charge is necromancy, anyway?” Amber wondered aloud, her smile fading once again. The mare shivered at the thought.

“It's bad. Right up there with murder, compulsion and possession.” Willow shook his head. “But I wasn't doing necromancy. I was just trying to save her. Argent stopped me from saving her, and that's what really killed her.”

Amber gave him a doubtful gaze. “But you're still going to be charged with necromancy, regardless. It'll be hard to stay away from the authorities if that's the case, even in a small town.”

“But if I can at least make a difference before they catch me, then it's worth it.”

Amber shook her head. “There must be another way...” she trailed off as she sniffed at the air. “Hey, Willow, do you smell that? Smoke...”

Willow gave the air a whiff. “I wonder if it's a campfire.”

“That's not just wood burning... smells like fresh grasses too. Like burning fields.” A quizzical expression made its way onto Amber's face.

“So we're close to a farmers' field? What's wrong, Amber? Farmers burn their fields all the time.”

“Not now. We're just past the planting season and in the first leg of the growing season...” She hummed in thought. “That’s rather peculiar…”

Fires in fields? Willow wondered for a moment as the scent of smoke thickened. A chill sense of dread ran through his veins. Could it be? Gryphons? 

“Amber, we have to check it out. But we should be careful… Try to stay under the trees if possible.”

The mare was already ahead of him, each step she took was muted as she pushed through a series of bushes with fiery red leaves. He moved to catch up.


End of Chapter 1


> 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



> Chapter 3 - Aftermath
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Fallen Leaves – Chapter 3: Aftermath

By:SilentBelle


Within a hastily erected lean-to, three ponies were resting beside the glow of a dwindling campfire. The two conscious ponies had finished eating a plain meal of dried rye grasses under a veil of uneasy silence.

“Willow,” Amber said quietly in an attempt to draw his eyes to hers, but he did not turn his head. She looked him over. The soft glow of the fire painted his coat with a golden hue, and his eyes were peering toward the small campfire, the dying flames forming a smoldering reflection in each eye. “Why hasn't he woken up yet?” she asked, and pointed downward with her muzzle, indicating the smaller form between them.

Between herself and Willow, a warm shadowy figure wearing an over-sized jacket had been laid down gently. The colt's short, dark purple mane splayed out from beneath the jacket and had collected a sizable amount of leafy detritus. The child's breath was a simple rhythmic comfort amongst the darkening forest. With each breath, Amber felt the concept of war and the scene from earlier that afternoon drift off into the recesses of her mind. It was unbelievable. What was once a child lost to tragedy, had been salvaged. The child had a future. He saved a life.

“His body needs to finish resting,” Willow replied quietly, with a voice like worn gravel. He kept staring intently into the dying flames. “He'll wake up when he has enough energy.” It looked as though he was going to say more, but then he shook his head.

’I hope’? Amber guessed at the words that Willow had not said.“It was the right thing to do... Right?” Amber asked and laid her head to rest upon her fore-hooves.

“Of course it was!” For all the weariness in his voice, there was a sense of conviction behind it that summoned a small smile to Amber's mouth.

There were times when having someone who knew what they were doing, with such certainty, was a great comfort, and to Amber, this was one such time. She had always looked to Willow to find that sense of right and wrong where normally she would have faltered on her own.

'If we're lost, then at least we're lost together.' It was an old adage that she had always clung to since the day he had gotten his cutie mark, and it was one that she found a familiar comfort within. She'd trust Willow, as she always had. He had good instincts and could make quick and sensible decisions when it mattered.

“So then, what's the plan?” she asked through closed eyes.

“Same as before: we'll head to Canterlot. We need to bring him somewhere safe. We'll let an orphanage or someplace know that his parents were killed in a gryphon raid. I'm sure we can find someplace to take him.” Willow yawned deeply before continuing. “And then maybe you can-”

“I'm staying with you,” she reminded him.

Willow sighed lightly. “After that we can try to find a place where I can help with my skills. Maybe a small town, someplace where I can leave Autumn’s Reach behind.” Willow paused, and Amber felt him shake his head—a subtle movement that barely stirred the air around her. “Amber, look, I know you wanted to live in Canterlot and open a shop there. You have the skills as a wood-carver to make it. You're damned good at it. I know, I've seen it first-hoof. I don't want to ruin that for you.”

Amber opened her eyes and gave him a small glare. He had finally stopped peering into the fire and was looking at her, a worried crease furrowing his forehead “I don't have to open a shop in Canterlot,” she shot back. “Why are you placing this burden squarely on your shoulders? I’m right here, you know? Look, I know you can't stay in Canterlot because of what your brother must have told the guards by now. And that means you'll probably have to keep on running away as word spreads from town to town, city to city. And with this war restarting I know it can-” She paused to shake her head. “It will be dangerous.”

Willow let out a ragged sigh and bowed his head back toward the glowing embers.

“And if that means that I have to choose between leaving my best friend and never seeing him again, or following him and helping however I can, I'm pretty sure that's a no-brainer.” She leaned her head gently on his shoulder and offered him a sad smile. “So you're stuck with me.”

“I guess so... I'm sorry, Amber.”

“And so am I. But we should get some sleep. We're still a ways from Canterlot. And traveling with a kid is going to make it take a while longer.”

“I suppose you're right,” Willow said. Amber saw his horn light up for a moment, and the last flicks of the small fire before them died out. “He should stay warm enough between us. Goodnight, Amber. Thanks for everything.”

“Of course,” she murmured back and closed her eyes. “It's what friends do.”


* * *

The summer night, a calming embrace.
It held the warmth of a child's breath,
The presence of friends who cared for each other,
And solace from a day filled with death.

Amidst the warm pulse of life
He found a way to breathe calmly.
He knew what he had,
And told himself it would stay.

He closed his eyes, hoping that when tomorrow came,
What he still had would remain beside him;
Hope kindled beside mounting doubt.

If it happened once,
Would it not happen again?

* * *


He was young, so young he remembered not the whole scene before him. He knew he was home and his mother was playing with him as they waited for Father to return from his shift at the base. Father was going to pick Argent up from school on the way home.

Even then, in Willow’s earliest memories, his mother was growing more frail with every passing day, but she wasn't about to let it stop her from being active. She was going to overcome it. It was just a passing cold, a flu that would be gone in a week or two. Or at least, that's what she had always told him whenever she fell into a bout of coughing. And he believed her gentle lies.

The afternoon began dragging on, and the creations of painted wooden building blocks were quickly losing their appeal. Willow made his way into the kitchen and watched as his mother prepared supper. He took in the aroma of the cooking vegetables and spices.

She always was a great cook. She even had a cutie mark dedicated to it: a pot over a fire.

With a small smile, she tested the soup and then nodded to herself. “Willow, it's going to be perfect, just the way he loves it after a long day at the base.”

“Why is Father always home late?” he had asked. “He never plays with me anymore.”

“Your father has a very important job, Willow.” His mother smiled at him and ran a hoof playfully through his colourful hair, tossing the strands into disarray. “He's working to keep us all safe. Remember how I told you about his cutie mark before?”

“It's a buck-ler?”

She laughed kindly. “Yes, a buckler. It's a small shield to protect things that are important to you. Every day he's protecting us, keeping us safe.”

“Protecting us from what?”

“From the war,” she replied sadly.

“War? What's that?”

“It's...a bad thing that your father protects us from.” His mother shook her head. “And he does it because he loves us very much. He gives everything he can to keep us safe and happy.”

“I'd be happier if he was home. Why does he have to be gone to protect us? Can't he do it here?”

She smiled at his question. “Because it's safer this way. One day you'll understand, Willow. He's doing his best for all of us.”

More hours passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. He had eaten and so had she. The food was getting cold sitting on the wood-burning stove, as the fire inside had since died out. His mother kept looking out the darkening windows every few minutes, the reflection of her frown, was plain to see.

Eventually a knocking sounded at the door and she rushed to open it. Outside stood the local school teacher—a gray earth pony mare, with a darker slate and chalk as her cutie mark—and Argent was beside her. Willow happily rushed over to meet his brother, but Argent pushed past him with a hurt look on his face and hurried away toward their bedroom.

“-never came. I'm sorry. Maybe he's just working late today. I would have come back sooner, but Argent was looking forward to seeing him all day, and he didn't want to leave the schoolhouse and kept asking me to wait 'just one more minute',” the teacher explained quietly to Willow's mother.

“That's okay.” Willow's mother sighed. “I'm sure he got caught up with his work. Thank you for bringing Argent back home. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

Willow caught a worried look from the teacher's face before the mare turned to leave. The door slowly swung shut from his mother's gentle push.

“Willow, why don't we go and see what your brother is doing?” his mother asked, casting another glance at the darkened pane of glass.

“Okay!” he replied cheerfully and ran over to their bedroom.

Little did I know that father would never set hoof through that door again. I can't even remember what he looked like. For a moment, he saw a blur of orange and felt the warming embrace of a feathered wing settle around his shoulders. He had died that night. Him and a group of three others. A patrol found them—their bodies—the next morning. All of the ponies had been cut down by the gryphons' swords. Father's red buckler was returned, as a battered mess, along with the news. That scene, more so than any other, was the blow that worsened Mother's condition and placed her in bed from then on.

Willow watched the image of his younger self and mother walk to the bedroom and they disappeared behind the door. The house grew quiet and dark. Only the barest of outlines marked the oaken door of their home.

With a creak, the door swung open. Silver moonlight poured in through the gradually widening rectangle. On the other side of opening, his mother's body lay. It was torn, burned, and a messy wreck. Small plumes of smoke still emanated from her broken corpse. Disfigured by his spell.And Argent's interference. Now she's gone, just like Father. But I could have saved her. I could have...

Just past the bloody mess, upon the path that led to his home, he noticed something else. A small colt of purple coat, and darker mane. He lay on one of many the stepping stones that formed the path to his home—a path that trailed out of their plot of land, but instead of heading to the town as it should have, it was devoured by the nearby Autumn Wood.

Willow walked up and stepped past the misshapen mass that was once his mother. With every moment he laid his eyes on it he heard his brother's shouts in his head, he smelled the burning flesh, he saw her racking coughs, he tasted the mouthful of blood that she had choked upon while they all slept. He felt his stomach churn.

He forced the image from his mind and looked past it. He moved past it, next to the quietly sleeping small colt. The form shivered and Willow sat down beside him and gently wrapped a foreleg over the small pony in a protective embrace.

I'll save you. I promise. I can do at least that much. I have to.


* * *


A small groan sounded from nearby, and Willow awoke with tears of sleep in his eyes. He was greeted by the movement of the small colt waking beside him. He's awake! he thought with joy. The doubts he had harbored, which he had tried his best to keep hidden and muffled, slid from his shoulders. He looked down at the colt and grinned in relief. It worked! It really did!

The purple colt blinked in very slight confusion, and looked around with strikingly orange eyes. The look of confusion only deepened when he laid eyes on Amber, who slept on his other side. “Where?” the child quietly asked and turned his head toward Willow. “Who?”

“You're awake,” Willow gave him a reassuring smile. “How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

“Hurt? No...” the child began to move, getting to his hooves. “My legs... tingle. My throat,” he coughed slightly, “dry.”

“You must have slept on your legs a little differently, restricting the blood flow a bit.” Willow reasoned. “The feeling should pass. Your throat should get better over time, so long as you keep drinking water.” He was already using his magic to fish out the bottle of water from his pack.

The child nodded nervously. “Okay... But who?”

At the child's voice, Amber began to stir. She rolled onto her back and opened her eyes while a small smile played on her lips. Quickly the smile turned into a look of surprise as she stared up at the colt.

“Wow, you have really beautiful eyes,” she murmured before making a wide yawn.

“That is Amber,” Willow mentioned with gesture of his fore-hoof. “And I am Willow, pleased to meet you. What's your name?”

The child looked at him blankly for a moment. “Name?” The child stared off into the distant trees. His eyes moved, as if searching for something. “Comet?” he said in a slow and confused drawl. There was level of uncertainty to his voice, as if he were unsure of his own name. “Where... am I? The Autumn Wood? What happened?”

Willow watched as Comet tried to piece his memories together. And he offered the water bottle to him silently with his magic. What do I tell him? That his parents are dead, killed by gryphons? Or is a white lie the proper choice? He gave a worried look to Amber, who was getting to her hooves and was wearing a solemn expression.

“Do you remember anything from yesterday, or the night before?” Willow asked. “What's the last thing you remember before now?”

“I was... tired?” The searching expression on the young colt only grew more frantic as he spoke. “There were faces... green and blue—but who? It felt warm. A voice sung to me. And the smell of smoke.”

“Willow,” Amber said quietly, nervousness, causing her voice to waver, “I think something's wrong with his memory.”

“His memories were damaged?” Willow thought for a minute. That's entirely possible... He was dead, and now he's back... But at least he's alive. And the memories seem like they are still there. It might not be permanent damage, but just a short-term side-effect of being brought back.

“So, Comet... that's your name is it? Just Comet?”

The colt tilted his leaf-riddled violet head of hair as he considered the question. “No... Lolium Comet. But they always called me Comet. They...” Comet trailed off, and a mask of frustration covered his face as he twisted his mouth into a pained snarl. “Who are they? Why don't I remember? What happened?! Who- Who am I?!”

Amber rushed over to his side and pulled him into a firm hug. “Shh,” she shushed. “It's okay, Comet. You don't have to force it. Your memories will come back in time. It's okay.”

“But why? What happened?” Comet asked in a strangled voice. “Who are you? Who am I?”

Amber gave Willow a pleading look, as if to say, 'Do something!'    

“Look, kid-” Willow shook his head. “Comet, calm down. We'll explain it as best as we can—our side of the story. You deserve to know; it's your right to know.”

“Willow, he's just a child,” Amber said, warningly, as she turned from from Comet and looked into Willow’s eyes.

They shared a moment with their eyes locked together, but Willow kept his gaze defiant. “I know... but he needs to know. Something! Anything!”

“I want to know,” Comet insisted.

“And I will tell you.” Willow nodded and sat down upon the leaf-cover ground before beginning his story and he beckoned Comet to drink some water.

“We were traveling through the Autumn Wood when we saw some smoke. It was coming from a rye grass farm. The place had been attacked, only hours before. Amber and I decided to investigate the scene a bit...”

Willow noticed Amber cringe as he spoke, and he forced his mind not to bring up the sanguine-blemished memories. “We came across a... grotesque scene. I won't go into the details, but we found you there with two other ponies. We assume they were your parents.”

“You had all been attacked before we arrived. Your home was burned to ashes, and I did what I could—I'm something of a doctor you see,” Willow said dumbly, the words sounded false in his ears. They were too simple and detached from the emotions surrounding the event, they felt hollow and empty. “And so I managed to save you, Comet.”

Comet set down the water bottle and blinked a few times, letting the words sink in before his responded. “So... my parents are... dead? And my home is gone?”

Willow found it strange, how simply the colt asked these questions. There was no emotion behind his words. It was as if he were questioning to reaffirm the time of day, instead of the death of his parents. “Yes,” Willow stated, a hint of anger blossoming in his voice. “They are dead.”

“Oh...”

“'Oh'?!” Willow shouted, getting to his hooves. “'Oh'?! Your parents were killed and that's all you can say?!”

“Willow!” Amber interceded, stepping in front of him. “Don't yell at him, it's not his fault!”

“I'm sorry,” Comet said, looking slightly stricken.

“No!” Willow rebuked. “Damn it, no!I'm sorry! You've done nothing wrong. Nothing.”

A heavy silence fell amongst the three, and Willow could not find it within himself to meet the child's eyes again.

“Why don't we get some breakfast?” Amber proffered. “Surely you must be hungry, Comet.”

The child looked down at his own body, as if he could read how hungry he was. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I guess I'm hungry.”

Willow moved over to a pack and began pulling some of the compressed rations out with his magic. “We don't have much, but I'd rather not have to forage for food right after waking up.”

“We're having hay for breakfast?” Comet asked.

“Hay will have to do. Maybe we'll come across a ripened fruit tree as we go.” Willow sighed. “We didn't exactly pack for a luxury trip here.”

“Hay will be fine,” Amber said pleasantly. “Though come to think of it... 'Lolium'... Isn't that a strange name?” Amber mused as she sat down next to Comet.

“Huh? Why's it strange?” Comet asked frowning at her.

“No more than Acorn,” Willow pointed out and distributed each of them a portion of compact dried hay rations. “Ambrosia Acorn.”

“Hey, you know I don't like to be called that! Just call me Amber!” She grimaced. “Ambrosia's a stupid name.”

“Really? I rather like it,” Willow said, and he felt a small smile unwittingly grace his lips. “Your parents gave it to you. It's something that you should treasure, for their sake.”

“I still prefer Amber,” she muttered back.

“But why's my name strange?” Comet wondered as he bit into his hay ration.

“Oh, Amber just doesn't know what 'lolium' means.”

“I do too!” Amber protested. “It's just a weird name is all.”

Willow smiled back then turned to Comet. “She really doesn't know, she's just too proud to admit it.”

“Willow!”

“I...” Comet said worriedly as he prodded the other half of his small meal with a hoof. “I don't know what 'lolium' means either.”

“Well,” Willow began quietly and gave the colt a small grin. “Ask me when Amber's not around, and I'll tell you what it means.

Comet smiled a bit at that. He then hummed to himself as he finished the last of his food. “So if Amber's other name is Acorn, then what's yours, Willow?”

“Rays...” He let out a sigh. “I'm Willow Rays. My family name comes from my father's side. Golden Rays...”

“Oh, that name works,” Comet said. “He must have looked like the sun.”

“Hmm, yeah. I suppose he did. Mother said he had a coat of bright orange and his feathers were warm, just like the setting sun.”

“Hmm.” Comet looked up to a few small patches of sky that could be seen between the half-skeletal trees. “Flying must be neat... Did he ever take you flying?”

Willow shook his head sadly. “No... He never had time for it.” He never had time for anything…

“Oh... it would be a really cool thing to do, though.”

“Until you slipped and fell from the other pony's grasp,” Willow said bitterly.

“Oh, lighten up, Willow!” Amber nudged him in the shoulder. “Just because you're scared of heights doesn't mean that it wouldn't be a lot of fun to go flying sometime.”

“I am not scared of heights. I have a healthy understanding of the probabilities at play when a pony without wings takes to the air. It's just a risk that I'd prefer not to take.”

“Because you're scared of falling.” Amber smirked and finished the last of her ration. “We should get going though.” She stood up and took a swig of water from the water canister and passed it to Willow. “We can head toward the river and follow it south until the edge of the forest. It's important to keep hydrated and all that.”

“Good idea.” Willow nodded and used his magic to strap on his saddlebags.

“Where are we going?” Comet asked worriedly as he looked around the forest, trying to get an understanding of where he was. “What's to the south of here?”

“Canterlot.” Willow finished strapping the bags on his back and then used his magic to help Amber with hers. She shot him an appreciative smile as the two filled sacks that they had gather from Comet’s ruined farmhouse were laid across her back.

“Why Canterlot?” Comet wondered, as he shook out his purple mane, freeing it of many dried leaves.

He's never going to stop asking questions, is he? Willow sighed. “Because it's safe there, and it's dangerous out here by the border.”

“Why?”

Willow grit his teeth and Amber chuckled at his expense. “We'll explain that to you on the way, Comet. Are you ready to do some hiking?”

“I guess... but what’s so dangerous about staying out here?”

“As Amber said, we'll get explaining on the way,” Willow replied.

With their packs prepared, and their breakfast eaten, the group of three began their trek through the coloured woods, leaving the clearing behind. Amber led the way with Comet just behind her. She was quick to begin asking him questions about his home in an attempt to see how much of his memory was missing. When Comet came up short, Amber shared some of her own stories of life on a farm, quickly deflecting the child's interest from the darker questions that he might have otherwise asked.

A child who has no real memory of his parents? He watched the two and thought about Comet’s simple and quiet reaction to his parents' death. Without memories he didn't feel the anger that should have been there. He was more angry that we were eating hay than the fact that his parents were killed. Without memories... he's... wrong? Broken? Are those the right words? he wondered. Then a darker thought clawed its way to the forefront of his mind, Can he regain those memories? The scene of Comet's murdered parents reappeared in his mind and he scowled at the sight. If that's what he ends up remembering... should he?


* * *


“And that's how you make acorn bread,” Amber finished explaining. “It's a delicacy, and my family's pretty well known for it. Of course, being well known in a small village is hardly anything noteworthy. But it is darn good bread.”

Comet looked in wonder at a nearby oak, some of its distinct browned leaves fell from the branches. “Wow. I never knew acorns had any use. I thought only squirrels ate them...”

“Well, we do have to chase away squirrels from time to time. The cute little vermin.” Amber chuckled. “Though they are rather annoying. They'd eat bare our whole crop if we didn't keep 'em away. They also try to dig up the acorns we plant. They can certainly be a hoof-full. It would be nice if we had somepony to handle and negotiate with the animals, but we haven't had one in years. Those squirrels just don't understand the concept of ownership. Or maybe they just don't care. I don't know. I'm not a squirrel.”

She looked at the child beside her and tilted her head inquisitively. “Do you know if you had any squirrel problems on your farm?”

Willow let out a laugh as he overheard her question. “What kind of squirrels are you thinking of, Amber? Squirrels don't eat grass, you know.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. Though inside, she was quite pleased to hear laughter from him that wasn't entirely burdened by dark thoughts or cynical undertones. “I wasn't asking you, I was asking Comet.”

“Um... no... Not that I know of...” The purple earth pony shook his head gently, then stopped walking and close his eyes. “I remember seeing squirrels in the woods. With these colourful trees--the Autumn Wood. There were small apples, and berries. Somepony was with me. I helped pick the fruit, and there was jam...”

“Jam, huh?” Amber cast a small, guilty glance back at the bag on her back. “We actually made acorn jam, back in Autumn's Reach, you know.”

“Huh? But it's not a fruit. How can you do that?”

“Well... it's not really jam, it's more like a butter that you can spread across bread and other foods. If you crush certain acorns enough, you'll get oil from them and it turns into a butter with enough effort. We use the acorns from the blue oaks for that.”

“Wow, you have blue trees too?”

“Well, it's a greenish blue. It's hard to tell by itself, but against the six other types of oak trees, you can really see the blue.”

“You really know a lot about oak trees,” Comet pointed out.

“Well, I'm an Acorn.” Amber puffed out her chest with pride. “And even an Acorn away from home will know all there is to know about oak trees.”

“But compared to that... I don't know very much about the grass that we supposedly grew...” Comet looked up to her worriedly. “Then does that mean I'm not good enough to be a Lolium?”

“What?” Amber felt aghast. “No, no, no, of course not! You're entirely worthy of your name. I'm sure you'd make your parents proud!”

“Mom and dad...” the child frowned at the words he spoke. “Proud? But I don't remember anything about the farm, or them... Why would they be proud of me?”

“Because you're alive, Comet!” Willow said fiercely, walking up to the colt an staring into his orange eyes. “They wanted you to live! They are proud because they are your parents, ipso facto.”

“Ipso...?”

Willow shook his head. “It's just a saying. But it means that your parents are proud of you, regardless of what you've done. They died to save you, so that you could live on. You owe it to them to be worthy of their love and sacrifice!”

“But how?” Comet asked, a confused look sprawling across his face. “What should I do? What can I do?”

“You'll figure that out in time,” Willow muttered and walked on ahead to lead them through the woods. “We all do, eventually.”

Amber moved next to the child and rested what she hoped was a comforting hoof on Comet's shoulder. She gave him a gentle smile. “Don't worry about his words too much. Willow's just doing his best to do what he can. He always has.”

Amber watched as Willow passed a few trees and faded from sight. She couldn't repress a look of worry as she stared after him, but she swiftly replaced it with a smile, as she forced her mind back to the child before her.

“So, Comet, do you remember learning about tracking ponies through the woods?”

The quizzical look she got in return turned her soft smile into mischievous grin.


End of Chapter 3