Fifth Moon
Year 1 of the Era of Two Sisters
May 30th
Master Starswirl has long encouraged me to keep a journal, as a record for the 'descendants of Clover' he is so certain I will have. Starting today I will heed his advice, though not for the sake of my would-be descendants. I have chosen to start writing now because this is a major turning point in my life, and I feel the need to record these coming years for my memory. Today I depart for the Everfree Forest, to join my teacher at the building site for the Castle of the Two Sisters. There I will witness the first year of the Era of Two Sisters in the presence of the sisters themselves, and continue my studies in magic.
Since Master Starswirl left with the princesses, I have had more free time than I can fill. For years, all of my time has been spoken for by either my teacher or my role as a mage-in-waiting for Princess Platinum (an appointment I will not miss in the slightest). I haven't had any time to pursue my own research, and have traveled only when Platinum's diplomatic trips gave me an excuse. And though I have a fair hoof of friendships to show for my twenty-four years of life, I have had little time to enjoy them prior to the past few months. I fear I have taken my closeness to my friends for granted, and now I am paying the price.
Moondancer was especially moody over my decision to leave Trottingham. She did not speak to me this last week, until yesterday. She seemed to realize then that my departure is inevitable, and since then she has stayed at my side, hugging me as if she means to squeeze me to death. I treasure every second remaining with her, but I wish she were less underhoof during my packing. With all her distractions, I am sure I have forgotten something.
It's very unfortunate that my duties to Platinum and Master Starswirl have kept me too busy to spend time with Glory and Moondancer, and doubly unfortunate that the only reason I have time now is because we will soon part ways. I can only hope we shall remain great penfriends, as I am with Pansy and Smart Cookie. Distance does not mean the end: I must keep telling myself this.
It is painful, saying goodbye to everything and everypony familiar to me, but I have to move forward. I have learned all I can from Trottingham and the many talented ponies there, and now I must rejoin my teacher to advance my understanding of magic. Master Starswirl is the greatest unicorn of our age, and a pioneer in many fields; there really is no other pony to learn about these magics from.
I depart within a few hours, and all is packed except for this journal. I am starting down the best path open to me. It is mostly coincidence (and my teacher's meddlesome nature) that puts me at the crossroads of history as it is made, for the second time since I endured the first Hearth's Warming. I know I will see history made (and perhaps make history myself) because such things seem unavoidable in the presence of the two alicorn sisters, Celestia and Luna. From the court gossip I have heard, the sisters' appearance has been regarded widely as too perfect to be coincidence. Leaders of the three tribes had been struggling terribly to work together, and integrating the previously segregated tribes without stepping on some hooves seemed impossible. The fear of another Winter still remained strong, but politics and equine stubbornness kept progress at a snail's trot. If the sisters had not appeared when they did, relations likely would have deteriorated into a new Winter or stagnated indefinitely.
Arriving about six moons months past, the two have shaken many beliefs that ponykind once regarded as fact. Their heritage and land of origin are unknown, but they quickly proved themselves to be special. Everypony is chattering about them--how both their horns and wings are functional, and how they have the strength of earth ponies to boot. Supposedly Luna's power alone is greater than ten ponies put together, but the gossipers spreading this tale do not say which ten ponies.
Why they came here, where they came from—everypony has endless questions about them, but any answer the sisters give spawns two more questions in turn. The fillies have supposedly confirmed that there are more alicorns somewhere in the world, but how many there are and how magically advanced their race may be is anypony's guess.
I don't know the details of the fillies' discovery. There are numerous stories making the rounds, each more fantastic than the last. Regardless of how they were found, I can say proudly that I participated in what came next. Master Starswirl had great hopes for these fillies from the moment he heard of them, and roped me into his plans for them. I don't know how many strings he pulled to do so, but Starswirl convinced major leaders from all the tribes to accept the fillies as princesses.
Starswirl insisted that I, Pansy, and Smart Cookie all be part of the delegation to officially offer the titles to Celestia and Luna. It was a surprisingly dry affair as we had to jump through a number of ceremonial and political hoops, presenting the fillies with their titles for the 'first time' in front of the gathered congress of tribes, after truly offering it for the first time privately and informally. All that pomp and the two weren't even crowned! That came much later to give all the nobles and delegates and representatives and other toad-heads time to travel to Phillydelphia for the ceremony. I suppose it also gave some lucky metalworkers the time to whip up crowns for Celestia and Luna.
There have been many small congresses since the first Hearth's Warming as we solidify our new borders, but none so great as to call King Bullion and his noble train of snobs into earth pony territory. Yet the coronation did precisely that, initiating the greatest convening of leaders since before the Great Migration as hundreds of ponies of all kinds gathered for the crowning of two previously unknown foals.
Going beyond their new titles, the two were also given a gift of funds and territory to establish themselves. From what I understand, their territory will function mainly as neutral ground for gatherings between the three nations, and the princesses themselves only have governing power within their own lands. I do wonder how all of this will work in practice.
The princesses are also on the new flag of Equestria, and a new, standard calendar system for all three tribes has been adopted in their honour. This new calendar supposedly integrates some recent advances in mathematics and astronomy, so it requires less tinkering to keep it aligned with the seasons as years pass. Ponies are such creatures of habit, I am not optimistic about the adoption of this new dating system (but perhaps my own difficulties shifting from moons to months are colouring my perspective).
The sisters set out to choose their new holdings immediately after the summit, and many hopeful and opportunistic ponies trailed after them. My teacher was among those ponies. At the time I did not join him; I had much to think about before I could make my decision. The new castle is not terribly far from Trottingham, but it is deep enough within the Everfree Forest that following my teacher was a great commitment to make. Even pegasi fear to cross those skies, so chariots and sky messengers are only available for matters and ponies of great importance. I am not considered greatly important, so I shall be navigating the forest by hoof regardless of the dangers. I do hope that better, safer paths are laid through the forest soon, so that I may visit my friends and family more than once a year.
I am dreading my first journey through those trees. The forest is renowned for its untamable weather and beasts. I have read all I can find about the forest, though information is sparse as ponies have been reluctant to go near it. I suppose the new castle will encourage enterprising ponies to explore, but as of now I have little idea what to expect. Entering uncharted lands, maybe I'll discover new magics or new creatures never seen by equine eyes. That might be more exciting if I didn't fear that those new creatures will discover me as dinner.
Along with the reading, I have copied what maps I can find (hopeless though they are, being poorly detailed from the start and outdated since April) and practiced the wildland survival skills that my teacher insisted I learn. Surviving a few days in the small wood near Trottingham is a far cry from challenging the Everfree Forest; I hope I am prepared.
I will write of my journey later. Right now, Moondancer is pestering me to put away my “dusty old books” and spend the rest of my time wandering and chatting with her, as friends are wont to do. Despite my grumbling, I will miss her greatly.
Signed,
Clover
Year 1 ETS
June 2nd
Today I am scheduled to enter the Everfree for the first time. Unfortunately, the caravan I was supposed to rendezvous with has already departed. After I cursed them bitterly and shook my hoof at their stale wagon tracks, I crossed paths with a pegasus mare named Sharpeye who told me the caravan left yesterday. Yesterday, on the first. The travel agent clearly stated that the wagons would roll out on the second, and Globe Trotter's Tremendous Travel Agency is not known for flakiness. They must still be following the old Unican calendar, blast them. I finally get it right and it immediately bites me in the flank.
Until I decide what new course of travel to take, I have made camp in the hills near the forest's northwestern edge. My original plan was to follow the caravan through the forest itself. Now I wonder if I might need to go around. The main issue with going around is that, if I depart from the few clear landmarks I have, my shoddy map will leave me hopelessly lost. The forest's boundaries are also known to grow and shrink at random, so the castle site could just as easily be along the southern edge as it could be right in the middle. Depending on the Everfree's fickle spasms of growth, going around may add many unnecessary hours to my trip. I may also run into some insurmountable obstacle that isn't charted on my map. I will need to find out more about woods and the shape of the land before I choose my next course of action.
I have agreed to let Sharpeye camp with me tonight. She seems trustworthy enough, though her appearance is frightening at first glance. Her eyes have thick round pupils surrounded by a thick band of amber, giving them a hawkish look; I can see how she acquired her name. Her deep orange mane is cut even shorter than is fashionable among pegasi, leaving her with an inch thick stripe of hair running down the back of her neck. Her tail is cut to a bob and bound with black fabric, and her butter yellow coat is smeared with mud, presumably for camouflage. Her hooves are roughshod with short spikes along each shoe's bottom. I have read of such shoes before; they are popular among earth ponies for travel over soft or wet ground, but I wondered why a flying pony would need them. I asked Sharpeye, and she told me spiked shoes are better for kicking with.
Before I could think better of it (and before I asked about the shoes), I told her my name and that I was going to meet my teacher in the Everfree. Hopefully my name is common enough, and my quest vague enough, that I have not set myself up to be foalnapped for ransom. Master Starswirl would never waste his coin to save me from my own foolishness.
I asked what business brings her to the edge of the Everfree, but she dodged my questions with compliments for my dandelion stew. While I welcome any boosts to my confidence in cooking (my attempts either go very right or very wrong), I wish I could have gotten a direct answer. For while she seems friendly and is a thoroughly fascinating pony, Sharpeye has the markings of a mercenary. In addition to the spikes on her hooves and the small knives strapped below her hocks, she wears a vest with tools hanging from various straps. Some of these items can be explained away as tools of her woodcraft; others are clearly made to taste blood. I dare not ask what she keeps in her pockets.
She may not have told me what she's doing here, but she did reveal her origins. She is one of many in the Windsool clan, one of the pegasus families that previously guarded the ranges just north of the Crystal Mountains. Their clan was one of the first to venture southward during the great migration, a bold choice to make when the land was mostly uncharted. Her tales of discovering new landscapes and creatures fills me with wanderlust, though I am sure I will be completely wandered out by the time I reach my destination.
Sharpeye Windsool is a very interesting mare, and if she wanders as close to the castle grounds as I suspect she will, I may just make a friend out of her—if she doesn't betray me first. I am distrustful of any pony who is so reticent about their manner of employment, especially when such a pony has sharp things strapped to every limb.
She noticed my wariness, but if anything she seems to respect me more for my caution toward her. She gave her honor as a Windsool that she'll protect me well during her watch tonight, and if I know anything about pegasi, it's that they take such vows very seriously. What she does after her watch is another story, but I will worry about that after my sleep. Until then, I am in safe hooves.
Alas, it is hard to write by firelight, and my companion has warned strongly against the use of hornlight. I am told that lighting magic attracts several unsavory creatures from the nearby forest, and sends some beasts into a mindless rage. I am curious whether it is magical energy or pinpoint light that attracts them, but I am not so fool as to test and find out.
Sharpeye has volunteered for first watch. She assured me that a watch is very necessary even this far from the woods' edge, and I am inclined to trust her advice. She says she will wake me for my turn in seven hours, and then take three hours rest for herself. I wondered if that might be too little sleep for her, feeling it unfair to take twice as much sleep for myself. Before I could ask, she informed me that pegasi sleep differently from the other tribes. It's quite fascinating, actually. She says pegasi take several naps throughout the day and night, rather than taking their rest all at once. By taking a half dozen naps throughout the day, they get at least as much sleep as any other pony. I asked her whether she's ever tried sleeping like the other tribes do, but she claims it doesn't work for her; she always wakes up hungry within a few hours.
I wonder what Sharpeye's sleep patterns could imply about her biology. She says she wakes up hungry; perhaps pegasi need to eat more often than other ponies? I wish the existing manuscripts on tribal differences were not so poor. Recorded knowledge of equine racial variation has been poisoned by bigotry and bias for too long. Someday I would love to write the first accurate, fair account of tribal differentiation, though I am not certain Equestria will ever be ready for such a book if relations stay as strained as they are.
I must away to bed now, as I am not a winged pony who can wake well-rested on three hours of sleep. I have decided to enter the Everfree on the morrow, and for all I know, I may not sleep again until I reach the castle.
Year 1 ETS
Morning, June 3rd
My watch last night was uneventful, other than a massive beast flying overhead, blocking the moon as it flew over our campsite. I woke Sharpeye quietly, but after swiveling her ears and listening to the wind for a moment, she assured me it was nothing to worry about. Apparently massive creatures near the Everfree are only a concern if they linger; according to Sharpeye, the thing that flew overhead (her guess was a dragon) was either already full or not inclined to eat ponies. If he were hungry for pony flesh, she said, we wouldn't have seen him until he tried to snatch one of us. She feel back asleep almost instantly, and I was left with my mane standing on end, jumping at shadows for the rest of my blessedly short watch.
She may be awful at soothing my worries, but I am grateful for Sharpeye's presence. If she had not been here, I would not have slept at all last night. I suspect my journey would have ended quickly had I not met Sharpeye, as I would undoubtedly have attracted all manner of beasts by using my hornlight as soon as the sun had set.
With her help, I have plotted my next course. She says the caravans rarely come more often than once every two weeks, and sometimes two months pass without one; I cannot wait that long. I would run out of supplies within the week, and be forced to return to Canterlot for more provisions. Then I'd have to bear a second farewell to my friends, and I hate saying goodbye. Once was hard enough. For these reasons, I have chosen to traverse the forest on hoof.
Sharpeye has shared some of her knowledge of the local topography with me, marking some crucial locations on my map. The waypoints she has marked should allow me to travel through the forest in relative safety and comfort. If I can find my way and keep a good pace, I will reach my target in about two days. Sharpeye has encouraged me to hire a guide, but why bother with a guide for a two day trek? She also seems to have little faith in my navigational skills, for she has marked many more waypoints than the ones leading directly to the castle site. She told me not to panic when I get lost, as if my getting lost is inevitable.
She has offered to accompany me to the first waypoint, and as soon as I break my camp (Sharpeye has nothing to pack away), we will set out for the forest, the most dangerous part of my trip. I keep worrying that I've forgotten something, but after all the supply checklist rechecking I've been doing, that may only be nerves. I do hope I am prepared.
Evening
June 3rd
All was well until I took my leave from Sharpeye. She left me at the first waypoint, an odd clearing filled with blue flowers I've never seen before. Sharpeye warned me to keep well back from the flowers; their kind is called poisoned joke, and touching them can cause magical maladies of all sorts. While I am sure their effects are humorous from somepony's point of view, such handicaps could prove deadly in the forest, and Sharpeye did not know if their effects could be cured.
A sense of dread stole over me then, as I realized that everything in this forest could be a danger. I have studied botany extensively, but I have never seen any of these plants. I do not know how, but the lifeforms in Everfree Forest seem vastly different from those outside the forest, alien to anything I am familiar with. Even a master woodspony would struggle to adapt in this place, and I am no such master of woodcraft.
I admit now, as I realized then, that I had been overconfident in my ability to tackle the forest alone. Overconfidence has long been my greatest flaw, with pride as a close second. When I realized that my Everfree trek might be too much for one pony, even a well-studied mare such as myself, I was still too proud to turn back. I did sacrifice some of my pride to beg Sharpeye to guide me through the forest. I offered her coin for the job, but she says there are places in the forest even she fears to tread, and the number of bits I offered was too low considering the risk it would take to earn it. That did not soothe my anxieties of traveling alone.
Sharpeye tried to cheer me up by saying that she has errands elsewhere that can't be delayed, which would keep her from guiding me even for all the gold in Equestria. She says she'll do a flyover of the woods along my route when she returns, and she'll bring whatever is left of me to the castle for free if she spots me from the air. I do not think this mare understands the concept of cheering up.
After Sharpeye briefly lectured me on things I must beware of in the forest, all vital information that I've undoubtedly forgotten, we said our farewells. I walked a narrow path between patches of poisoned joke as she took to the sky. I stopped to watch her depart, and in that moment I wished I could trade my horn for a pair of wings.
I navigated through all of the joke patches successfully, and my walk was rather pleasant for a while, as I had a neatly packed path to walk with sun shining on me through the canopy. I heard all sorts of birds, none of them familiar with me, and at some point I grew too complacent with my journey in the Everfree.
My first problem came after four hours of walking, when I realized that I should have reached a fork in the path at least an hour ago. Sharpeye marked it as a point where the one previous path split into three, and told me to be very careful to take the left path, as it was both the correct direction and the safest path to my goal.
I have stopped where I am to consider my next move, and it helps to write out my thought process when making such decisions. On one hoof, if I have passed the junction then I should turn back until I find it. On the other hoof, my calculations (or the scale of my map) could be wrong, and the fork may still lie ahead of me. My compass tells me I am headed south, which might take me closer to the castle; really, it only tells me that I'm not so lost that I'm going back the way I came.
I think I shall walk on for one more hour, and if I don't find the fork in that time, I'll turn back. I may end up losing several hours of progress, but that will be better than being hopelessly lost as I travel an unknown pathway.
Evening
June 5th
After continuing forward on that mystery path yesterday in search of my missed fork, I turned around only to find that, about two hours walk back the path was overgrown by the thorniest, unfriendliest vines I've ever seen. All this had grown up to block a path that was definitely clear four hours before! Both the path and surrounding woods were so tangled in thorns that only a pegasus could have gone around. I tried burning my way through, but the flames produced copious amounts of oily green smoke that smelled of camphor and mint, much like the popular chest rubs sold for congestion.
My heart began to pound when I noticed that the smoke was not dispersing, filling the air around me with choking fumes as it sank toward the earth. The flames were burning cold like ice, and the smoke produced was cold and heavy like winter fog. I do not know why my magical fire interacted with the vines that way, and such unnatural coldness still fills me with terror after my brushes with windigoes. I smothered the flames and fled, traversing the same section of path for the third time, any wasted time preferable to lingering among those mysterious vines.
I had to give up on turning back, and that pretty fork in the road with all its promises of a safe journey are forever lost to me now. At that point I was only hoping that the path ahead of me would not be overgrown as well, as then I would have to guess my way among the trees and whatever nasty surprises they held.
Thankfully, before long I ran into one of Sharpeye's alternative waypoints. After praising her in my mind and promising I'd thank her properly if I got out of the forest alive, I stopped to plot my next path.
Sharpeye had marked mostly waypoints that would be unmistakable when you found them: the first fork in the path she led me to, a tree covered in different types of fruit, a dragon skeleton surrounded by silver grass. This particular location's landmark was a massive purple crystal formation that looked remarkably like a set of waterfalls set into a cliff side studded with caves and gems; the sight was incredible, something ponies would travel across Equestria to see if they knew it was here. Running between one of these formations was an actual waterfall with water that I hoped was pure enough to drink, as I planned on drinking it regardless. Around the basin of water below the fall, there was a meadow filled with lush grass and numerous flowers. Among the greenery were birds of every color, rabbits, squirrels, butterflies, and many other creatures; I happily observed that there was nothing threatening or strange about any of them. The majority of them fled at the sight of me, and at the time I wondered what had taught them to fear ponies. Recalling Sharpeye's advice about this spot, I made myself a very large meal of the grass while taking care to avoid any flowers.
According to my map, this clearing was not on my originally planned path, but I hadn't ventured far. Cutting through a small section of woods could take me back to my intended path, and not long after that I could reach my next waypoint. Having half a day of light left, I decided to leave the safety of the clearing and continue on.
After stuffing any empty space in my packs and belly with grass, then waiting again to digest a second large meal so soon after the first, I headed eastward toward the treeline.
As soon as I entered the forest, I lost about two-thirds of my sunlight to the surprisingly thick leaf cover overhead. There was still plenty of light to see by, but I made note to myself to avoid the heavy woods at any time near nightfall.
The trees there were uniquely odd, though I did not notice it at first with how carefully I was watching for monsters, vines, or poisoned joke. Rather than a variety of trees as I am used to seeing in forests, this area had only one type. Every tree had dark, thick bark that was nearly black and long, spindly branches. The branches were tipped with collections of smaller twigs, almost like an eagle's talons in shape. I saw no leaves on any of the trees I passed; rather, every trunk had a coat of some strange spotty lichen. I dared not touch it or the trees themselves, but I am itching to study it someday. I suspect that the lichen is somehow helping the trees live without their leaves.
I walked for over an hour without sighting a single animal larger than a bug. Of bugs there were many, and many of them looked unfriendly in one way or another. In addition to the massive scorpions and ants on almost every surface, there were spiderwebs large enough to net ponies. I don't know what they are finding to eat; all of the webs I saw were bizarrely empty of both spider and prey.
Eventually I managed to find the path. This part of it was lined on each side with spotted toadstools of all colors, and Sharpeye had told me that as long as I was very careful not to harm any animal or any of the toadstools while I walked the path, I would be safer here than in any other part of the forest. She would not say why.
I had passed several smaller creatures walking the same path as myself. Badgers, ferrets, and even mice crossed paths with me as I walked, none of them showing concern at my appearance. From this and Sharpeye's warning against harming the animals, I suspected that the path's colorful boundaries marked a place of magically-enforced peace, where prey animals could walk without fear.
Unfortunately, I was not as confident in my safety when I met a pack of timberwolves along the path. After freezing in surprise, I stumbled backwards and began to run. I did not look back to see if they followed, but I also did not make it far before I tripped over a toadstool, sending it and myself sideways into the dirt.
I rolled quickly to face my lupine pursuers, but they had stopped (much closer behind me than I'd expected) at the moment I tripped, and were looking just as frightened as I myself felt. They fled off the sides of the path, hopping deftly over the toadstools as they went.
As I got back on my hooves, I heard a sound that made my every hair stand on end. A dreadful shrieking, like a thousand terrified foals, sounded from further ahead. Preferring timberwolves to whatever fey nightmare might enforce the rules of the path, I followed their lead and leaped from the path, thoughts of my destination forgotten in my haste to escape. I ran with woods blurring before my eyes on either side until I felt my heart would burst, and after pausing to catch my breath, I ran still further until my body lathered with foam and my hooves felt like sandbags.
The shrieking had stopped after what seemed like hours, but I was still jumping at shadows and even worse, I had no idea where I'd run to. I was back under the thick canopy again, and by now it was getting alarmingly dark and cold. To make matters still worse, I worried that the scent of my fear, sweat, and obvious exhaustion would call predators to me like a dinner bell.
I knew I had some hard choices to make, and fast. One more false step and I would never have the chance to make another. I have confronted the idea of my own death before, even had moments where I thought I was doomed, but never before have I felt so hopeless and alone. When the windigoes closed in, I had Pansy and Smart Cookie by my side. In these woods, my only company at death would likely be my killer.
Running out of light, I made a torch out of a dry tree branch and an oil-soaked cloth, clumsily starting it with flint rather than magic; I wasn't sure if fire magics might attract any predators, and I didn't want to find out in my tired state. I figured that with the way I reeked of sweat, a torch would not make me much more noticeable to predators, and if I got lucky I might frighten lesser beasts with the flame.
With the light issue solved, I set out with water and shelter as my next goals, feeling a bit of my confidence returning. If I could find shelter I would be safe, I told myself, if only for the night. If I could find shelter, I could survive. As if sensing my growing courage, the sky chose that moment to start pouring icy rain. The oily fire on my torch was blessedly stubborn, but my deadline for finding shelter had clearly shrunk.
I found my sanctuary fairly quickly, in the form of a shallow cave set halfway up the side of a lumpy cliff face. With time I might have found something better, something I didn't have to check for bears first, or something with a safer exit. Thankfully this cave had no bears, but any surprises in the night would either trap me in the cave or force me to stumble down the slope to escape.
There was no chance of gathering firewood in the rain, so I huddled down behind my torch in the mouth of the cave. I fell asleep with my bags still on my back, a choice that I was happy for later that night.
I woke up later feeling tickled and itchy, and opened my eyes to notice my torch burned to embers and the sky still dark. I chose to risk hornlight for a moment because I had a very, very bad feeling about the tickles I felt.
My horn lit, and I observed that I was covered in spiders. My hooves were covered in spiders, my flank was covered in spiders, my hornlight gave half the light it should have because my horn was also covered in spiders. I thought I hated spiders before that night because of that silly foalhood incident with a daddy long legs, but being covered in spiders made me hate them more than I thought possible—and by hate, I mean fear. I fear spiders. I'm terrified of spiders.
I was so afraid, having woken from my sleep with a crunchy eight-legged coating, that I forgot my magical control and instinctively flared my body into a fireball. Shrouding my coat in flames was an elegant solution to my dilemma; the flames that could not hurt me roasted every last spider instantly.
Less elegant was the way I sprinted out of the cave mouth screaming and covered in flames, hurtling down the slope like the flaming idiot I was. I was fortunate not to break any bones, but I twisted my front left hoof as I tumbled to a stop. After that I couldn't have climbed back up to my cave shelter even if I'd wanted to. Though the spiders crawling all over me might not have intended to eat me (they certainly did not bite me), I didn't fancy the idea of cuddling with more of them.
Blood still rushing from my earlier panic, I decided to just keep going without direction in the hopes of finding more shelter or a waypoint marked upon my map. This wasn't an ideal decision, but at that point there were no ideal decisions left to make.
When my blood rush faded, I collapsed in the middle of walking. I thought two panicked sprints in one day was too much and my body agreed; against my own good sense, I closed my eyes as I lay upon the ground.
I must have fallen asleep, but when I opened my eyes again the sky was still black as pitch past the trees. Rain was still falling, and I was soaked and freezing again. I was still exhausted to the bone, so I knew something must have stirred me to waking. After seeing what sat before me, I wished I'd stayed with the spiders.
I wondered what taught the small forest animals to fear ponies; last night I found out. Less than a stone's throw from me stood a grotesque parody of equinity, a beast that was pony in shape but clearly not in manner. It was large, a bit larger than the tallest of stallions, with a bone-colored coat and flat, featureless eyes of solid black. As I stared at it in mute horror, covering my nose against its rotten odor, the creature stood up on sick yellow hooves and began to circle me. It walked like a predator, slinking around me in a prowl exaggerated by its skeletal figure. Its coat had a faint glow which made it unpleasantly visible to me, letting me see every bone moving beneath skin and every needle-sharp fang in its maw.
As I sat rooted to the earth in fear, it did something that surprised me more than anything: it began to speak with a snaky hiss. I do not know how it spoke my language, or even if it was truly speaking Equestrian. Perhaps it had some magic to make itself understood by anypony. Regardless of how, it spoke, and its rhyme was ingrained in my memory:
“Fear is a flavor I find most sweet.
In most it's as rich as a well-marbled meat.
You're no exception, but what I most wish
Is to indulge in an even more savory dish.
For when an equine feels fear in their soul
For safety, they'll give what makes them whole.
So to each who falls beneath my shade
I offer a bargain: go free when you've paid.
My toll is heavy, but not so steep.
Compared to death, salvation is cheap.
Pay my price, and when next you awaken
You wont even know what it is I have taken.
Choose now: will you give what you wont even miss?
Or will you succumb as I give you death's kiss?”
After it finished its rhyme, it continued to circle me, obviously giving me time to choose. I needed that time, though not for its choice. I'm no fool; I've read enough faery tales (and heard enough spoken ones) to know what happens when you bargain with creatures like this. Maybe I wouldn't notice what it had taken, but I'm sure it would be something important, something like my soul or my free will.
Instead, I used my short time to come up with a plan. I am not a gambling pony, but I had little choice in this circumstance. Having no prior knowledge of this creature, I had to deduce what I could from its appearance in the hopes of finding a weak point. Its teeth were the biggest physical threat, and its ability to spout off poetry at me probably meant it was intelligent. It might even have some magic, going by the glow. None of this was good news for me.
However, its features seemed almost too perfect. Some of the most dangerous creatures in existence don't look threatening at all, and there are some harmless creatures made to look more dangerous than they are. I doubted that this thing was harmless, but perhaps it was trying to seem more powerful than it really was. Everything about it was calibrated to give an appearance of complete control and great power. It wanted its prey to think it was the stuff of nightmares because then they'd believe themselves helpless, welcoming even a partial escape and allowing it to feed with no struggle. Or at least, that's what I was banking on.
I waited until the beast circled and came into view, then closed my eyes tightly and let off the biggest light show I could muster. Gambling again that I wouldn't attract other nasty things with my magic, I used fire magic instead of light, throwing a great fireball right into what I hoped was the creature's face. I am glad for my knack with fiery magics.
I did not spare the time to see what effects my fireball may have had, instead turning tail and running with everything I had left. Between fatigue and my twisted hoof, what I had left was not much, but it seemed to be enough. When I had run as far as I could and heard no sounds of pursuit, I collapsed again at the edge of a grassy meadow. I was thrilled to recognize it as the clearing with the crystal fall. I wasn't disappointed to find I'd backtracked as it was likely the best place I could have stumbled on, short of finding the castle itself.
It was in the meadow beneath the falls that I wrote this journal entry, after taking a full day of rest to recover. My hoof still hurts and my every muscle is screaming, but I am in far better shape than I was last night. I will set out again by a different route once I have fully recovered. With abundant food, water, and shelter, I am in no hurry to leave my sanctuary. Honestly, part of me wants to stay here forever and become a feral pony, just so that I don't have to face the uncertainties in the trees again.
