Beautiful Eyes
“Has anyone ever told you that you have the most beautiful eyes.”
I’m distracted from a jar of shriveled dragon claws and look up at the strange salespony, his pale eyes wide and unblinking.
“I, uh… thank you?”
“I mean it,” he says reverently. “Absolutely beautiful.”
“Oh… most ponies find them a bit unsettling, to be honest.”
I shuffle my thin wings, self-conscious under his strong gaze. If my leathery wings or tufted ears weren’t obvious enough, then my slitted eyes always did the trick to get unwanted attention.
Ignoring his stare, my interest returns to the many oddities in his traveling shop. One dusty shelf has a bundle of dried roots like little children beneath a display of hyper-realistic glass eyes that sat beside a box of crystals that faintly glowed and pulsed.
“Fascinating, aren’t they?” The salespony says, stepping closer. “Here, I’ll show you something really special.” He slides past me in the narrow space and beckons me towards the back of his shop, although it was more like a traveling museum.
“Here,” he gestures to a misty orb, “this is a– oh!”
He knocks over a glass jar and the thing shatters with a crash and explodes. The air becomes thick with fine gray dust, so thick I can’t see. My eyes begin to water and sting, and it burns down my throat and lungs.
“Oh dear, I think that was the ash from Mount Haleakala,” he says conversationally amidst my desperate coughing. Then there’s the sound of stumbling from somewhere in the dust cloud and he falls, knocking me to the floor and somehow trapping my wing under him.
“Oh! I’m terribly sorry,” he says, struggling to stand and only managing to crush my wing under his hoof even more, making me yell in pain.
“Ahh! You’re on-“
“Pardon?”
“-on my wing! Get off!” I shout through my scratched throat.
“Oh, I am so sorry!” He says, stepping back.
I sit up and cradle my bruised wing to my chest. Nearby a window is opened and the air slowly begins to clear.
“Are you all right?” He asks.
I try to answer but I’m suddenly overcome with ragged coughing. It feels like I had just swallowed half a sandstorm, and the other half is lodged in my eyes.
“Here, drink this. It’ll help.” A cup is pushed into my hooves and I don’t hesitate to drink- anything to relieve the pain. I take another gulp and feel like I can talk again without tearing my throat. I breathe deep and relax, wiping my forelegs under my eyes as I begin to see again after much blinking and tears. I notice a strange taste on my tongue.
“What is this?” I ask, peering into the mug.
“Oh, that’s mine,” he says as if surprised he had given it to me. “It’s just water with some medicinal herbs to help my poor back. It might taste funny but it’s quite harmless.”
“Ah. Thanks though, it helped.” I give it back after another repressed cough. It still feels like I had inhaled a sandbox, but better. Now it's just my eyes that are killing me.
“Hmm, everything’s rather dusty in here, isn’t it?” He says, peering around curiously as if he hadn’t just exploded an ash bomb. “You’re more than welcome to keep looking around while I start to clean up.”
“Nah, I should probably get going,” I say, inching towards the open door and fresh air.
“Will you be all right? I’ve heard that timber wolves roam these woods at night.”
“Pfft! I know this place like the back of my hooves. I’ll be fine,” I say with a dismissive wave.
“Still, best to take care," He says slowly. "There are many strange things in this world. You never know what might be out there."
His words send a shiver down my back as he stares at me with the same intense look.
“Y-yeah, uh, thanks… Well, safe travels!” I call over my shoulder, hopping down from his wagon and taking a deep breath of clean, fresh air. Trotting to the edge of the forest, I stretch my wings but stop as the left one twinges. Might as well walk a bit.
The eastern sky is just beginning to fade to a deep, dusky blue, as faint stars began to appear overhead. I head towards the familiar road through the woods, although it was more appropriate to call it a path. It's narrow and crude, just there enough for the occasional cart and oftentimes overgrown with grass and flowers. I trot between the tall, tall trees and gaze about as the shadows stretch and deepen in the old forest.
A good night to be out.
If only my eyes weren’t so itchy.
I press my forelegs to them and resist the urge to scratch. Soon I come to a small, clear stream and kneel beside it, splashing cold water onto my face. I blink hard, and then very quick, then splash some more.
Better. I tuck my head under my elbow twice, somewhat drying my face on my fur.
With the pain lessened, I continue on in the deepening twilight. I pass pine and oak and maple, catch the sweet smell of honeysuckle bushes and see wild grape vines trailing down from high overhead. I take my time, enjoying the smells and sounds of a forest coming awake. Winged things flutter about, and I sweetly coo at brilliant orange spiders in their perfect webs.
Then I think about what the odd salespony had said… strange things in this world. Some are myth and story--headless ponies and flesh-eating spiders and the like.
Others… others I’m almost too afraid to believe. Ghosts of ponies who had been lost and are still looking for a way out. Demon lights that lure travelers to their death. Living shadow and monstrous hounds...
I take a deep breath- now is not the time to fill my head with ghost stories.
My skin crawls and I’m suddenly alert. I'm not sure whether or not I heard something, but there's a feeling- something is out there. Perhaps it's merely someone else walking through the forest. I wouldn't think much of it, except for that indescribable sense of someone watching me. I look around, keeping my ears alert, but there's no sign of anything. My flesh crawls.
I begin to canter, then gallop along the winding path and don’t stop until I crest a small rise, an open space littered with dead leaves. Catching my breath, I look around again, peering into the darkness between the trees.
But there’s nothing, of course. I shake my head, annoyed at letting my fears get the best of me. These aren’t strange woods, and there’s nothing to fear from the dark, I know that.
Strange, though… the shadows are deepening fast- faster than I would have expected.
Had it taken me that long to get here? Or is night falling quicker than it should?
Again, there's the feeling of being watched. I shiver, as if someone is breathing down my neck. Something rustles in the nearby brush.
“Hello? Is someone there?” I yell out.
A bird is startled from its perch, startling me as well, but besides that…
Nothing.
I know I had heard… what? Something, definitely something. Maybe just an animal. A deer, perhaps--they often kept to themselves, maybe whoever it was would leave me be.
I turn to keep going but pause. I thought I had recognized this crest but looking again, something was… off.
Perhaps I had gone down a wrong path, took a wrong turn. Why else would everything look and feel so different? But no, I see a tall dead tree off to my right, I know that landmark. I’m on the right path, it’s just… darker.
A shudder ripples through me as I realize it’s not the forest that’s different.
It’s me.
There’s something wrong with my eyes.
Normally I can see just fine at night, but tonight I… can’t. I rub at my eyes, then hold them tightly shut, and wince at the jolt of pain. I try opening them as wide as I can to let in more light, but it makes little difference. The forest is dark and strange all around me. But I’m on the right path, I know that. Something is definitely wrong, but it’s all right. I can see the path well enough and know that soon the moon will be out, then I’ll have more light.
I keep going. My ears turn this way and that, alert for the sound again, but there’s only the usual whispers of the forest- crickets and mice and wind sighing through the trees. I can’t shake off my uneasiness though. Nighttime is usually so wonderful, so full of life and everything soft and muted unlike the harshness of day. But now it’s all shadow and things lying just out of sight.
I’ve never seen the world like this, and for once I understand why ponies fear the dark.
Hoofsteps.
I lift my head and wait and… there! The far-off sound of hooves on a dry forest floor.
“Who’s there!” I yell out.
It stopped.
“I know you’re out there! I can hear you!”
I keep still and hold my breath, waiting for some answer, the slightest movement.
Nothing.
I know someone is out there.
Or something.
I tell myself to relax, to not jump to conclusions. More likely than not it was just a deer, or another traveler minding her own business. Or a timber wolf.
My ear twitches at the snap of a twig breaking. I don’t know what it is, but I’m not going to stay and find out. I break into a run, my hooves flying beneath me as I struggle to see each turn and twist of the dark road, and soon the path has all but disappeared before my eyes. Am I lost?
I stop.
My mouth is sour and I'm pretty sure something is stabbing me between my ribs. No--I can't stop here, I'm too vulnerable, too exposed. I head off the path, and I only know that from the ground switching from hard-packed earth to leaves that crack loudly beneath my hooves. I have to fumble amongst the trees, groping blindly until I come to one and sit with my back to it, facing away from the path. I realize how much I'm trembling, how damp my fur is. I rub at my eyes again- the pain is building, somehow. It’s as if I had dumped a box of metal shavings into my eyes, and I bite my lip to keep from crying aloud. It's like... it's like something is pressing on them. I want it to stop, but I can't focus on it now.
Something is following me.
I listen and smell but there's only earth and forest all around. Normally that would be a comfort, but now I wish there was something else. Some hint of what was waiting for me in the shadows. The deep, deep shadows.
Suddenly I realize that I can't see... anything. Why can't I see? It's too dark, it's far, far too dark.
There it is again--hoofsteps. Coming closer.
I've had enough. I don't know what's out there, but I'm not going to sit around and wait.
Stepping away from the tree, I spread my wings then twitch them closed at the sudden shooting pain. It’s worse than I had thought, but not unbearable. Twitching, they spread on either side of me and I push off then immediately falter--it was much more painful, in fact. I ignore it, heading straight up as branches and leaves whip at my wings and fur. I burst through a thick tangle of spindly branches and I’m free, out in the open air and safety. The wind is stronger up here, cold against the sweat beneath my fur. I can breathe again, flapping unevenly from my hurt wing, but it’s enough.
Although… I thought it would be brighter up here. A chill spreads through me as I realize it's still too dark.
Something is wrong.
I turn my face upwards and know there should be stars.
There’s nothing.
The sky is empty, or perhaps it no longer exists- only a deep blackness- absolute and unceasing.
My head is spinning and I look down and realize the earth below has also disappeared. I am flying in emptiness, with only the wind and the cold telling me I am still there.
My wings stutter, throwing me off balance and suddenly I don’t know what is up or where I am or if I’m flying or falling. My heart lodges in my throat as I beat my wings that were threatening to shut tight as terror seizes hold of me.
My leg is struck, then my wing, and I must be flying too low, too close to the forest top but I don’t know where I am and I can’t see!
Something hard whips at my face and I’m falling, crashing through the trees. I scream as my right wing almost catches before the branch snaps with an earsplitting crack and I keep falling, heavy branches striking my back, my wings…
Stars burst in my mind as my head slams against something immovable. It feels like my soul is nearly pushed out from my body and I gasp but can't take in air through my crushed lungs.
Seconds pass, and slowly I can breathe again.
I’m on the ground.
I lie still, my head throbbing and I’m not sure whether the ground is actually spinning or it’s just me. I try to lift my head and let it fall back again, dirt and stones digging into my cheek.
I open my eyes, or think I do. Everything is black. I just lie there, gasping as tears drip into my fur.
Eventually I pull myself up and the pitch-black world is spinning. I reach out a shaking hoof, touch something solid, and jerk away. But when I reach out again it’s only a tree. I drag myself over to it and wrap my hooves around the sturdy trunk, the rough bark scratching against my fur. The ground sways beneath my hooves and I feel sick. If I let go I’m afraid I would fall far, far away and never find my way back.
Everything hurts. I rub my face against my foreleg, putting pressure against the growing pain in my eyes.
Something rustles in the bushes and I tense, my heart caught in a vice. I think… I think that was an animal. I hope.
I can’t stay. I have to… oh no. Oh no….
Where am I?
I don’t even know what direction I had flown, and the forest stretches for miles. I could be anywhere. Where’s the path? I don’t know.
I peer sightlessly around, and while I’m very sure I’m still in the forest, the only things that seem truly real are rough bark against my fur, and damp earth beneath my hooves.
A long drawn out howl echoes through the forest and nearly makes my heart stop.
I don’t know where I am or where I should go, but I can’t stay here.
Flying is out of the question. The very thought of it only makes me cling tighter to the tree. For a moment I have to fight against the horrible swooping in my stomach at the memory of flying in the blackness. I won’t fly. Besides, I’m not sure if I can anymore- one wing won’t fold in, but only hangs at my side.
I have to walk. I have to go. Now.
After several attempts, I finally brace myself and let go of my tree, my one anchor to the real world, and step into blackness. For a moment I stay still, waiting for the earth to drop away beneath my hooves. Nothing happens, and I relax. Distantly, I hear the familiar screech of a barn owl and it comforts me.
I can do this. I have to.
I force my legs to move, prodding the air and ground in front of me before each step. I slowly make my way past invisible trees and thick undergrowth. Hopefully I’ll come across a path, otherwise I might be stranded. I may not be found for days and days… if ever.
Far away, something moves through the brush.
I freeze, and my heart freezes as well.
I don’t call out this time- don’t make a sound.
I hear it moving again like it’s coming closer, or perhaps that’s just my imagination. Terror rises within my soul, and bile rises in the back of my throat. I am being hunted. And I can’t run. Can’t fight...
The noise stops.
I can’t stay here.
As quiet as I can, I move through the dense brush, heading away from whatever it is chasing me. But it’s not just terror I think of. The pain is getting worse. Much worse. Not just my body or my wing or my throbbing head, but my eyes.
It's unbearable.
I bend forward, biting back a scream. It’s like something is squeezing my eyes, an indescribable pressure. It’s no longer an itch- something is tearing at the back of my eye. I dig my hooves into the ground so I’m not tempted to do the same to my face.
I want to rip out my eyes--anything to make the pain go away.
Nothing helps. Soon I can’t help it, and I scream and bury my hooves into my face, rubbing against my eyelids, pulling at my tear-damp cheeks. I pant and scream again into the empty night, still rubbing at my eyes.
Something is wrong. What is it? What is wrong! Why won’t the pain go away!
I become aware of a strange building pressure behind my eyes, too deep for me to reach. I open my eyes wide, wide as I can bear, my hooves grabbing at the lower eyelids. I hunch forward as I nearly choke on my tears, my forehead almost brushing the ground.
Wait…
I pause, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.
Wait… it’s lessening. I can’t…
Then something falls in front of me, dropping to the forest floor.
No.
That isn’t… can’t be…
With trembling hooves, I feel among the dirt and leaves and find a small, perfect sphere, hard as glass.
I don’t breathe. I know that if I dared to lift a hoof to my face, it would be empty.
It didn’t hurt anymore.
Again… the noise.
Right behind me.
I can hear each muffled step, the hiss of a cloak slithering over dead leaves. A shiver runs down my spine, yet I don’t move.
The stranger stops, so close I can hear its breathing.
Then… a low, familiar voice.
“Like I said- you really do have the most beautiful eyes.”