> Mountain of Misfortune
>  by Kiernan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter the First: Wrong Turn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you sure this is the right way, Art?”

“Not as sure as I was half an hour ago, Sam…”

Hidden Art trudged along the overgrowth, pushing aside ferns and branches. He was a pudgy silver unicorn with an electric blue mane and tail with eyes to match. As he was the one holding both the map and compass, he was the first one to ask if there was a path out of the woods. Unfortunately, he was also the reason they were lost in the first place. 

“You just had to go off the trail, didn’t you?” groaned his sister, Forgotten Ability. She, too, was a unicorn, but her coat was a deep slate with light blonde hair and green eyes. “Way to go, Arty. You fucked it up again.”

“Leave him alone, Abi,” sighed the third member of their party, Cucumber Sandwich. They were a lithe, androgynous earth pony. Some guessed they were a stallion, some guessed a mare, but Sam didn’t want to be identified one way or the other. They were a pony first, soft green like an avocado second, with an almost black mane slicked back and cut short third. Their gender wasn’t even in the top ten things they wanted other ponies to think about. “At least he’s trying. What are you doing?”

“Carrying the extra weight, Sam!” She gestured back to show that she was carrying both her pack and her brother’s.

“Pipe down,” called Art, waving his hoof. “I think I know where we are now.”

“You think, or you know?” asked Abi accusingly.

Sam moved forward. “Let me have a look. Four eyes are better than two.”

Art pointed to the mountain peak. “From there, we’re due east, right at the tree line.” He pulled his hoof across the map. “According to this, the site should be in a clearing just south of us. Not that far away. Let’s just hug the tree line and–”

“That’s north, dipshit,” growled Abi, glancing over his shoulder. “Line up the compass rose on the map with the direction the compass is pointing. We’re on the north side.”

“You think you can do better?” snorted Art, shoving the map into her hooves. “Be my guest. It’s only going to make it sting that much worse when your inability to read a map ends with us being lost.”

“You mean like you’ve been doing since that fallen tree?”

“Hey, I put us right back on the trail. It’s not my fault it went to a dead end. Nopony’s trimmed the grass out here in months!”

“It went to a dead end because it wasn’t the trail, doofus!”

“Both of you, shut up!” shouted Sam. “Look, it doesn’t matter whether we’re on the north side of the map or the east. We’re right under the mountain, where the trees give way. That means we’re anywhere along this line.” They traced the trees with their hoof. “I say we follow the trees to the left. We’ll for sure hit the mountain pass exit to the trail, and from there, we can find our way back onto the main trail, and then the campgrounds.”

Art squinted at the map. “I don’t know. If my sense of direction is as bad as Abi suggests, maybe we should head the other way. We might be here.” He pointed to a place on the map that they definitely weren’t. “Or… Is this even the right mountain?”

“Are you telling me I’ve been carrying around your shit for the last half hour because you brought the wrong map?”

“No, this is the right map,” said Sam, snatching the map. “And it’s not heavy at all. You’ve been carrying his stuff because he’s lazy.”

Abi scowled at Art, who was now wearing a shit-eating grin. “I can’t believe you fell for that!” he cackled.

Abi, in response, dumped his pack into the mud.

“Hey! That was uncalled for!”

“Really? Pretty sure I called for it.”

Art folded his hooves. “Well, now, I’m not sharing my snacks with you.”

“I’m not carrying your gear anymore,” scowled Abi. “Next time, don’t be such a dick!”

“Knock it off, both of you,” grunted Sam, scanning the map. “Look, let’s just follow the trees. I want to at least be somewhere dry before this rain hits.”





Within the next five minutes, the clouds had closed in and it had started pouring rain. There was no way they could have made it to the campgrounds, and there was no chance they were going to be able to set up their tents in dry conditions. 

“See what happens when you waste our time with your shitty pranks?!” shouted Abi over the powerful wind. “We could have, and should have been there half an hour ago!”

“You’re blaming me for the weather?!” shouted Art back. “I can’t control the clouds! I’m not a pegasus!”

“You can’t read a map, either!”

Sam had heard enough. “If you two want to stand out here and beat the ever-loving crap out of each other, feel free, but I ain’t listening to it. If you want to be civil, you can join me where it’s dry.”

The two unicorns looked to their friend and saw them working their way to a cave entrance not too far away. Not wanting to stand out here, they both opted to come inside, just in time for Sam to light a lantern.

“Careful,” warned Art. “There may be bears.”

“If there were bears this close to a well-established campsite, wouldn’t the park ranger have said something?” sneered Abi.

“Maybe he forgot?”

“Knock it off,” sighed Sam. “I will kick you out if I have to.”

Silence followed as they took off their gear and set it against the cave walls. Sam took out the map and laid it out on the ground with Art’s compass. 

“You’re not going to try to navigate in this?” asked Abi. “At least wait for the sky to clear up.”

“Just trying to find out where we are,” sighed Sam. “The rain won’t last forever, and neither will my weekend.”

“It’s a long weekend,” offered Art, digging around for snacks.

“But still finite,” argued Sam. “I’d like at least some of it to be relaxing, and I can’t do that if I have to listen to you two bickering.”

“We’d all like to have a relaxing vacation,” chuckled Abi, settling down against the wall. “I suppose this will have to do for now. But if there are bears in this cave, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll have to catch me, first,” smirked Sam. “If they show up, you can bet I’ll be long gone in a heartbeat.”

The trio settled in, with Art passing around some dried fruits and other goodies. Their trail mix was primarily composed of puffed barley coated in honey, mini marshmallows, chocolate chips, and nuggets of dried-out pretzels. It wasn’t a standard trail mix, but a homemade variant.

“So how do we want to pass the time?” asked Art, munching his pretzels with his back against the opposite wall as his sister. “Anypony up for charades?”

“I’m content to just listen to the sound of the rain,” smiled Sam, putting the map away. “I might even take a nap.”

“We won’t wake you in the event of a bear attack,” warned Art. “Not unless tripping over you on the way out counts.”

Sam shook their head. “Just kick me. I’ll probably be kept awake by whatever you’re doing, anyway.”

With a shrug, Art turned to Abi. “How about you? Ready for me to beat your arse in charades?”

Abi didn’t answer. She’d already grabbed a book, Shattered Perception, out of her pack and began reading it, using her unicorn magic to keep her snacks off the pages.

“You know, the moisture in the air is plenty enough to warp and wrinkle those pages,” Art warned.

Abi didn’t bother to respond verbally, opting instead to just make an obscene gesture with her hoof in his general direction.

“You missed me,” he chuckled.

“Don’t care…”

Finding that he couldn’t provoke a rise out of anypony, Art just leaned back and munched on his snacks. There was nothing else to do, at any rate.

When he reached the end of his bag, he crumpled it up and tucked it into his backpack with his gear. “Bored,” he announced. 

Sam’s chin rose to the clouds above. “Rain’s still falling.”

“But I’m bored…”

“Camping was your idea,” huffed Sam. “What did you expect to do while we were out here?”

“Normal camp stuff. Climbing trees, toasting marshmallows, harassing the other camp on the opposite side of the lake, having a big jamboree at the end where we teach those hoity-toity other campers a lesson…”

“That sounds like a summer camp movie.”

“No…” waved Art dismissively. “In the movies, there’s teenagers played by guys in their forties screwing around with teenagers played by mares in their thirties and summoning demons and serial killers. And then there’s the one camper who’s really good at archery, and they end up being the one that survives at first because they shoot the psycho right in the face. But then it turns out he was being controlled by a sea monster in the lake, and it nabs the archery kid right before the credits play.”

Sam looked back. “Have you ever been camping in the woods before?”

“I have,” volunteered Abi. “It’s boring. That’s why I brought a book.”

“It’s not very exciting,” sighed Sam. “You put up a hammock between two trees, climb in, and then just have a nap. We’re not even going to one with a lake, it’s just a clearing with a metal bucket that acts as a firepit. It’s supposed to be relaxing, being one with nature, and escaping the busyness of business.”

“Yeah, but we’ll do other fun camp stuff, right?”

Sam shrugged. “Camping is about relaxing. Having a good time with good friends.”

“If that’s all you wanted to do, we could have done that at home!” grunted Art. “We have video games! I thought you wanted to do camp stuff!”

“Video games are more fun,” agreed Abi.

“Then why did you even agree to come?” asked Sam. “If you think it’s boring and would rather be playing video games, why didn’t you stay home?”

Abi pointed at Art. “He invited me to watch him struggle through an experience he was sure to fail at. Either he’s so good at camping that he makes me free food all weekend, or he gives up and cries. Sounds like a win-win for me.”

Sam shook their head. “You’re both hopeless. Why do I hang out with you two?”

“Because of your morbid curiosity?” offered Art.

“Fair…”

After a long pause, Art grunted and stood up. “Well, I’m off to take a piss.”

“Have fun being drenched,” chuckled Abi, returning to her book.

“Oh, I’m not leaving the cave,” chuckled Art, grabbing the other lantern. “I’m going to find a spot further back.”

“If you find a bear, give us your best blood-curdling scream.”

“Keep your hoof against the right wall,” advised Sam. “When you come back, the same wall will be to your left. The map covers the surrounding landscape, not the caves under the mountain.”

“Yeah, yeah…”
> Chapter the Second: Down the Left Bend
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Art kept his lantern by his side, holding it aloft in the glow of his horn. It wasn’t that his horn couldn’t produce light; it could, but the lantern was better. All it needed was fuel, and there was plenty of that. 

Taking Sam’s advice, Art hugged the right wall, a task that only seemed difficult because the tunnels were circular, like he was inside of a tube that twisted around. The cave system was surprisingly complex, as he’d already passed two forks on his way down. At least he knew the way back up.

Once he’d found a reasonable spot, that being out of earshot of the rain, and therefore unable to be heard by his sister and best friend, he waved the lantern around, moving it off down some tunnels to make sure no other creatures could hear him, either.

Thankfully, there were no other signs of life, so, confident in his security, Art set the lantern down and lifted his right leg. It had been years since he’d urinated without a toilet, as domestic life had claimed him long ago. It wasn’t something he’d forgotten, he just didn’t want to splash all over himself, especially if there wasn’t a lake for him to dip into. He did wish he was on a soft patch of soil, though, as that would be better at absorbing the fluids than the smooth rocks, but at least he wouldn’t have to keep smelling it for long.

With the last few dribbles slipping out and drifting away, Art lowered his leg and picked up the lantern. “Nopony saw that, right?”

No answer came, save for his own echo. He was safe from embarrassment. 

Placing his left hoof against the wall that had been to his right as he’d come down, he made his way back up the path, following the tunnel back out. As he walked, he began to wonder how the cave had ended up completely circular. Usually, caves were depicted with spikes dripping down from the ceiling and climbing up from the floor, but not this time. Since he’d left his pee spot behind, the walls, floor and ceiling had been dry, smooth stone.

As he passed the fourth fork, he began to feel uneasy. He’d only passed two on the way down, so he should have been back at the entrance. He also remembered that the path he’d taken was a winding one, and the way back had been straight as an arrow. 

Somewhere along the way, he’d missed something. He must have. But how? He’d stayed to the right one way, and to the left the other way. By that logic, he should never have left the wall.

“Maybe I took the wrong path when I finished?” he reasoned aloud. “I should go back to that spot, and try again.”

He turned around and started back down the path. This time, he knew the wall was the same, as his hoof never left it. However, he quickly figured out that this was not a viable plan, as the straight path he had followed led to a dead end at the last fork.

Art began to panic, but took a deep breath to calm down. “I must have misremembered it,” he reasoned, though he didn’t quite believe it. “I must have been paying such close attention to the ceilings and floors that I forgot that I turned right. Silly me…”

He let out a nervous chuckle as he headed back down. “Wouldn’t it be a great joke if I ended up lost down here?” he said to himself. “Ha, ha, Abi, funny joke, you spooked me. You can come out, now. Turn off the illusion, I surrender…”

While he had been hoping that this was a vengeful joke by his sister, the lack of response soon made him reconsider. As much as she did like to watch him struggle, she wasn’t trying to kill him. Or was she?

“You know if I die, there’s nopony to pay your rent, right? You can’t kill me out here and still live in our apartment.”

No response.

He took a deep breath. This was not a poorly-executed prank. On one hoof, that was a relief. If his sister was listening in and making him lose his sense of direction, that meant that she had listened to him pee, and that would be creepy and uncomfortable for both of them. On the other hoof, it was downright harrowing. He was now lost in a winding system of caves, and had no idea how to leave.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His mother had told him, back when he was a colt, that shouting was no way to solve your problems. Well, if he screamed loudly enough so that his voice reached the others, shouting would absolutely solve his problems. He took a deep breath, sat back on his haunches, cupped his hooves in front of his mouth and yelled as loud as he possibly could.

“SAM!!! ABI!!!”

He remained still and listened closely. For a brief few seconds, he heard his voice echoing down the tunnels, but then came a response. It wasn’t his name, but it sounded like Sam’s voice coming from the tunnel to his right. Even if Abi was trying to trick him, Sam wouldn’t. Bringing everypony back safely was top priority for them.

“SAM!! KEEP CALLING!!” Art shouted as he proceeded down the tunnel after Sam’s voice. “MAKE SURE YOU KNOW THE WAY OUT!!”

The path split four times as he went, always going down. Luckily, at every turn, he heard Sam’s voice calling out to him and leading him back out of the cave. All he needed was to keep following it.

And then, at the next junction, the voice was coming from behind him. The way he’d just come from was apparently the way back to Sam and Abi, or at least Sam. He turned around and started back up, only to hear the voice coming from behind him again.

“What’s going on?!” he shouted, to nopony in particular. He sat down against the wall and put his head in his hooves, leaving the lantern in front of him. He knew, for a fact now, that the tunnels were absolute nonsense. He couldn’t make sense of them, anyway. If there was a way to find a path out of here, he didn’t know it. He was good and lost, now. 

He took a deep breath and wiped his face. He may not have been the smartest pony in their group, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. The mountain was just a big pile of rocks. He was smarter than a pile of rocks, surely.

This was a cave under a mountain. Even if he couldn’t figure out which direction was north, south, east or west, he could at least tell the difference between up and down. Below the mountain were just more rocks, but above the mountain… Above the mountain was the sky. If he made it to the surface, he could just walk down and try to find his party again.

He grabbed the lantern and looked around. He’d spotted four paths when he sat down, and now there were three. The paths were changing, he was sure of it now. But still, up was up. With all the confidence he had, he picked the only path leading up and started walking.

At the first fork, left took him up. It was a steeper grade, too, so he was going to reach the top much faster. Then a right, then a left again. 

It was at the next fork that he didn’t know where to go. The slope was so steep by now that he was starting to hurt his knees, and every single path went down from here. Granted, the slopes going down were steep enough that he could slide down them instead of walking, but he didn’t know where he’d end up if he went down one of them, or if he could make it back up. What if one of them sped up into a freefall that would land him on a set of spikes?

“There has to be another way,” he reasoned, thinking to himself. He looked up, and the ceiling looked pretty solid. He couldn’t dig through it.

With a sigh, he considered his best option was to go back the way he came. Sure, it could lead to an entirely new route, but maybe he was making that up in his head to explain why everything felt so unfamiliar.

He didn’t have a chance to weigh that option, either, as the stone holding up his back left hoof suddenly broke, and he began sliding backwards down the path. He tried to dig his hoof into the side of the tunnel wall, but he couldn’t find purchase, no matter how steep the path became. In fact, he was pretty sure he spent a few seconds in freefall before he finally slid to a stop in the centre of a room he’d never seen before.

It was a rotunda, and when he held up his lantern, he saw twelve paths leading out in straight lines, almost perfectly arranged. What’s worse, even the path he’d come from had straightened out when he wasn’t looking. It no longer led up, but out.

Art took a deep breath. He had to face the facts. 

First and foremost, he was lost. He didn’t know the way out, and that meant that he was trapped here until somepony found him. When he was a kid, he’d been told that, if ever he was lost, he should just wait where he was, and somepony would come find him. But if these walls were moving, nopony might ever find him, and worse, they could end up just as lost trying to find their way to him, and be equally unable to escape.

Second, he had to come to grips with the fact that this was not a simple prank. He wasn’t being tricked or made fun of, because what was being done to him was damaging beyond a joke. This wasn’t waiting for him to try and hop in the wagon and then moving it as soon as his hooves touched it, this was more akin to running over his leg with a wagon wheel. This was too far for a simple prank. It was malicious at this point.

Third, he knew that the tunnels were changing. No matter how hard he tried to reason and logic his way out, something or someone was causing the mountain to fight back against him, and he didn’t know who, what or why.

Fourth, and perhaps worst, he knew that he’d been away for quite some time. That on its own was not such a bad thing, but it meant that Sam and Abi were probably about to wonder where he was and come looking for him, or worse, they already were. If they entered this shifting cave, it was likely they’d end up just as lost as he was. While it would suck if he died, that was just one pony whose death he’d caused, even accidentally. If Sam and Abi came looking for him, that’d be two more, and they hadn’t done anything to deserve it. 

He took another deep breath. He didn’t know how much oxygen he had, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that. If he did worry about it, he’d just blow through it faster, and that would  be his own fault.

“Okay,” he whispered. “So, if going up takes me down, and the path is always shifting, then I suppose it doesn’t matter where I go, as long as I’m going. Right?”

He didn’t expect an answer, nor did he receive one. He was kind of hoping to hear somepony from around the corner grow angry at his nonsense, giving him some degree of clarity, but there was nothing.

He picked a path at random and started forward. He wasn’t going to find his way out by standing there. He had to move, and move he did. When he reached the opening, he was in another room, but this time, he spotted a grey pony with a dusty blue tail holding a light, standing in one of the exiting doorways.

“Hey!” he shouted, tearing off after them. “Come back here!”

As soon as he shouted, the pony took off, carrying their lantern into the next room. Art only just spotted the light from his lantern as he slipped around the corner. Every time, it was the same thing, until Art tripped. The other pony, whoever he or she was, was running at the same rate he was, and barring them tripping, there was no catching up with them now. 

“I don’t want to hurt you!” called Art, hoping they could still hear him. “I just wanted to talk, I swear!”

As he stood up, Art could feel something running down his elbow. Moving the lantern into range, he spotted a soft trickle of blood. He’d injured himself when he fell. Nothing serious; just a scrape.

“I’m sorry if I scared you!” he shouted. “I’m pretty scared, myself, so I know how you feel! If you come back, I really really need your help, and I can’t thank you enough!”

Not knowing if he could be heard, he followed the path they had taken into yet another identical room. As he approached, he spotted the light from the lantern, and the back half of a pony. 

“Hold on!” he called, holding up his hoof. “Please, don’t run. I’m harmless. I’m not trying to hurt you, and if I do, I’m sorry in advance. I’m going to stay put for now, and if you’re willing to hear me out, just stay there.”

The tail end of the pony in front of him didn’t move.

“Thanks. My name’s Art. I’m camping with my friends. Rather, I’m supposed to be, but I can’t find them. Do you know these caves?”

No answer came.

“Do you speak?”

Still nothing. 

“Can you tell me your name? Please, anything to show you can hear me?”

The hind end seemed to be uninterested in anything he had to say. However, as he sat down, so did it. He flicked his tail, and the tail in front of him flicked the same way. He put his bloody elbow back and held the lantern behind him, and the coat, cut and cutie mark were identical to his own. 

“Great,” he sighed. “Not even a day alone in the cave, and I’m already crazy enough to talk to myself…”

Cursing himself for his stupidity, he picked up his lantern and picked a path at random. If there was to be no rhyme or reason for his choices, he may as well not make any, and just let the mountain take him wherever it wanted him to go. If he had no control, then there was no sense in holding onto the illusion of control.

It only took two turns from there to show him something new, though. He found that his path ended in a vertical shaft. Along the side, there was a ladder. And if there was a ladder, there was civilization. Ladders were not grown in the wild, they were made by ponies who needed to climb things. This one even looked pretty sturdy.

Gripping the lantern in his mouth, he looked up and down. It was nothing but darkness, but either way, he should find something, right? Up was the way he picked. It could possibly lead him out of the cave and into the open sky. If nothing else, it would be easier to go down after he reached the top.
> Chapter the Third: Misstep
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rain began to lighten up, and the clouds began to drift away. Sam smiled at the turn of events. “Look at that. Weather’s permitting us exit soon, hopefully. Rain’s stopping, clouds are clearing… We’ll be able to leave soon.”

“Good,” replied Abi tersely. “I really didn’t want to spend all night in these caves. Especially not with my brother.”

Sam turned around. “Where is Art, anyway?”

Abi pinched her book shut so quickly that it sounded like she had slammed it. “He went to take a leak, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. What I mean is, why isn’t he back yet?”

“Oh. How long has he been gone?”

“Longer than it takes to piss, I’ll say that much.” Sam stood up and dusted off their elbows. “Come on, let’s go find him.”

“And walk in on him leaving a puddle on the cave walls? No thank you.”

“Abi, he could be lost, or trapped.”

“Or he could be trying to scare us. Disappear into the dark, then hide behind a stone wall and turn out his lantern, then wait for one of us to approach and then jump out and shout “Boogidy boogidy!” That’s just like him.”

Sam glared at Abi, grabbing her by the wrist. “What if there actually was a bear? Hm? What if he couldn’t make it out to warn us? I agree with you, he’s a pain in the arse, but he’s your family, damn it!”

Abi shrank down a bit. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“This isn’t about pranks. This is about safety. Come on, we need to go look for him.”

Abi nodded and stood up. “You’re right.”

“And if he does pop out from behind a corner and scare us, you can hit him. Hard.”

Abi smiled as she took Sam’s hoof. Levitating the lantern in front of her and hanging it from her horn, the two made their way into the cavern, keeping to the right wall as they’d told Art to do. The path swayed back and forth, so it was pretty obvious that they wouldn’t be able to see Art’s lantern. There were no straightaways, just corner after corner.

“I don’t understand how he ended up lost,” huffed Abi. “There’s been one split so far, right at the beginning. How could he have lost his way in such an easy maze? There’s one path here, and one path back.”

“He could have turned the other way,” offered Sam. “Maybe we should go back and see?”

Abi nodded. “One thing before we go, though?”

“What’s that?”

“ART!! CALL BACK IF YOU CAN HEAR US!!”

After the echo died down, the two stood, silently waiting for a reply. When none came after a few moments, Sam shrugged. “He’s not this way. Now we know.”

“Alright,” sighed Abi. “Let’s go baaAAA–!!”

As she turned around, the ground beneath her hooves gave way, and she slipped down into a hole. It wasn’t super deep, but it was a good four metres. As she fell, the lantern tipped over and went out, cloaking the area in darkness.

“Are you okay?!” asked Sam, as soon as the rubble stopped shifting. They’d scurried backward as soon as the rocks had separated, and were well out of the damage.

“A bit scraped, I think,” called Abi back. “Can you hear me?”

“I can. Hold on…” There was a click, and Sam was bathed in the reflected light from a flashlight that rested between their teeth. They moved over to the hole gently and slowly, shining the light down on Abi. “How’sh it look ong your eng?”

“I’ll live,” answered Abi, picking herself up. The rubble hadn’t crushed her, though it seemed to have tried. Luckily, the lantern was okay, it just needed to be relit. “This looks pretty steep. I don’t know if I can climb out.”

“I have some rope in my bag,” replied Sam, holding the flashlight between their shoulder and ear. “I’ll lower it down and pull you out. Wait right there, and make sure you aren’t actually injured.”

“Okay.”

As Sam ran off to grab their rope, Abi stood up and inspected herself. It had been a nasty collapse, but she only had a few minor scrapes. If anything, she was only angry at Art for suggesting they all come out and do this. It wasn’t something that she really wanted to do, and now that she was injured, this whole trip was ruined for her.

“Abi?”

Hearing the faintest whisper of her name, Abi called back. “ART?!”

“Abi!”

“ART!! WHERE ARE YOU!?”

“Abi, help!”

Abi took a few deep breaths. She had to help, but she couldn’t just leave. Sam wouldn’t be able to follow. And what if she couldn’t find her way back? But… she had to help him. He was an arse, and he’d ruined what was supposed to be her time to relax, but he was still her brother.

“I’M COMING, ART!!” She set up her lantern on the ground and lit up her horn, following the tunnel in the direction she’d heard him coming from. Her horn wasn’t as bright as the lantern, but it was bright enough to see in front of her.

“Abi, where are you?”

“I’M ON MY WAY, ART!!” she shouted back. “I never thought I’d say this, but KEEP TALKING!!”

“Abi!”

Abi followed the voice for well over a hundred metres before taking note that it wasn’t growing any louder. If it wasn’t growing in volume, could she know if she was coming any closer?

“ART, WHERE ARE YOU!?”

“Abi!”

She took a deep breath. “ART! I’M LEAVING! FOLLOW THE SOUND OF MY VOICE!”

As she turned around, the voice came back. “Abi, I’m stuck! Please, help me!”

Damn her unwillingness to be responsible for his death. With a sigh, she took off at a brisk run, chasing after where she’d just heard his voice coming from. She knew she’d have to explain herself to Sam, but it was worth the hassle.

When she came to a fork, she closed her eyes. “TALK TO ME, ART!! I DON’T KNOW WHICH WAY YOU WENT!!”

No response echoed back.

“ART!!”

Silence. Was he dead? If so, whatever had killed him would have heard her, and would be following her now.

“ART!!” she called one final time, to no response.

He was gone. And if she were smart, she’d be gone, too. She turned back the way she came. Luckily, she’d been smart enough to leave the lantern behind and lit up, so she just had to follow the trail back to where it was.

And yet, as far as she could tell, the path had been straight. She should have been able to see the lantern. But outside of the glow of her horn, there was no light. She had to hope that it’d just gone out, because the alternative was another cave-in, and that would mean Sam couldn’t find her.

She took a deep breath. This was no time to panic. She had to remain calm. If she was trapped, she would run out of air and suffocate. If not, she knew that Sam was coming back for her.

Suddenly, a door appeared on the cave wall. It was a wooden plate with rusted hinges and a latch that didn’t lock. Such a latch could only mean that it was made to keep out either lesser minds, or the mindless. A dog could probably open it, but not a pile of sand, a deft wind or a splash of water.

She had to admit, curiosity had her by the hoof. If there was a door down here, and the wood hadn’t rotted clear through, that meant somepony had to have put it here some time within the last fifty to a hundred years.

She rapped her hoof on the door, and part of it shattered away. This wood was older than she thought. Despite the lack of sun and with how dry the stone was, this wood must have been ancient to be this decrepit. 

“Hello?!” she called out. “Is anypony there?”

She didn’t expect a response. If this door was this old, she probably couldn’t open it without breaking it. Not that she would try to break it, it’d just crumble in her hooves.

And yet, a response came. “Abi! Is that you?”

It was Art, and he was louder than ever. “ART!! ARE YOU IN THERE?!”

“Help me, Abi! I’m stuck!”

Disregarding how Art was able to open and close the door without breaking it, Abi wrenched the entire door off the wall with almost no effort. Behind the door was a stone stairwell headed down, and she would follow.

Taking a few steps down, she called out one more time. “Art! Are you down here!? These stairs don’t look saaAAA–!!!”

Without warning, one of the stone steps crumbled under her hoof and she found herself sliding down, down, down into the mountain at an alarming rate. She wailed a deafening shriek, which echoed out around her as she tried to stop, or at least slow her descent. 

She shone her horn a little brighter, at the cost of more energy, and what she saw was a dead end. She covered her head, knowing that soon, she was going to hit the wall far harder than she could walk away from.
> Chapter the Fourth: Faux Pas
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam picked up the rope and wrapped it around their shoulders. They’d hoped to use it for setting up camp, and wondered if it was even possible to do so after this. After all, this line was made to hold the weight of a tarpaulin, not a pony. 

Or two, if they managed to find Art, as well. 

They shook the thought from their head. “Come on, Sam, they need you,” they whispered, turning back into the darkness. It would be better if there had been another movable lantern, or a flashlight that could either harness to the chest or strap to the forehead. Having to hold it was awful. Still, it would have to do. 

Back into the cave they went, flashlight between their teeth, rope around their shoulders, and, just in case, a first aid kit on their back. It was possible that Abi had been injured in the shift, and had been too shocked to notice it. It was also possible that the rock had shifted again. In either scenario, it would be a good idea to have it. In the event that they didn’t need it, they could carry it back together. 

It wasn’t long at all before Sam realised that this wasn’t the right tunnel. Opting to turn back and leave, they found their supplies right where they’d been left, and opted for a new expedition, taking careful note of what turns they made. The second time, it ended in a dead end.

“Okay, something’s up with this mountain,” they sighed. Setting down the flashlight, they closed their eyes and took a deep breath. This had to have been a recent development, as the caves changing should have been a big enough red flag as to stop any rational park ranger from putting a campsite nearby.

They opened their eyes. The cave had changed again, without making a noise. This time, however, the path back led to some kind of light. 

Sam was sceptical. Walking down a dark tunnel towards a light seemed like it would be a bad idea, as it was oft associated with death. Sam wasn’t wanting to die, but given that Art and Abi were equally trapped, if not worse, there was little point in fighting the mountain. 

The light turned out to be the setting sun, and the end of the tunnel was literally a path out of the cave. They could even see the entrance they’d set up in nearby, and this was very odd because Sam had looked for other cave entrances and not seen this one. 

Skidding down the muddy path back to the entrance they’d been resting in, Sam thought to try again. They knew this was theirs, as their bag had their name and cutie mark embroidered on the front pocket. Unless there was somepony else named Cucumber Sandwich with two friends named Art and Abi, where Art liked snacks and Abi liked books, this was the same place.

But it couldn’t be. Every expedition into the cave had always taken a right turn. Art had gone to the right, Abi had gone to the right, and Sam had gone to the right. So why was it that now, the only way to go was left? The paths were changing. There could be no other explanation.

Sam sighed. “To the left it is…”

The path started off smooth enough. It gave Sam a bit of time to reflect on their actions. Yeah, if the caves were shifting, that was a dangerous turn of events that could lead to their death, but what else was there to do? Sam couldn’t just leave the others here.

Then again, what if this was a prank? Art was known for his japes and jests, but he wasn’t malicious. Anything that would inconvenience him, too, would be quite a stretch, and even if it was him, he’d have grown bored of it by now. At least his jokes would be more exciting than walking in circles in a cave. If this was a joke, it wasn’t one of his.

But then, who would do this? Abi would never. Aside from just not liking pranks, even if this were hers, she’d never wilfully cause damage, especially to herself. Risking becoming lost in a cave was too far, especially without something to occupy her time. She didn’t do this.

So then, who did? Earth ponies like Sam couldn’t do magic like Art and Abi. That ruled out any pegasi that might have been flying around, too. They didn’t like it, but Sam could not deny the possibility that some unicorn had happened upon them in the caves and was trying to destroy them. Some old hermit who’d been in here since the days before Luna’s return, angry that they’d disturbed the silence of the caves.

No, that was crazy, even as conspiracy theories were concerned. Sam shook the thought from their head just as quickly as it had arisen. There was no hermit in these caves out to destroy them. If there were, he’d have at least come forward and told them to leave before resorting to killing them. They didn’t look remotely threatening, except perhaps Abi when she was angry.

What one unicorn would even have that much power, let alone enough to move the rock silently? Even Celestia, as much as she liked pranks, wouldn’t endanger them. Diamond dogs? No, this was way outside of their territory. Giant rock-eating worms? Then who was closing the tunnels behind them? None of this made sense. 

Not seeing a rock in the path, being too deep in thought, Sam tripped and cascaded down a previously-unseen pile of gravel. The stones were all smooth, but that didn’t stop them from striking them as they rolled down above them, pinching their skin as they dragged them under, and smacking them as they tumbled down. 

When the pebbles finally stopped, Sam felt as if they were lying on a bed of marbles. They turned and looked at the path they’d just come from, inspecting it with the flashlight. Unfortunately, the wall they’d just slid down seemed to be only loosely connected pieces of stone. Any shifting they did would just cause more of it to collapse, and the rocks nearby were too loose and round to build any kind of stairway. Sam thought back to Abi, who was waiting for a rope to pull her out. Unfortunately for Sam, the rope was around their shoulders, not tied to a sturdy anchor at the top of the pit.

“Fuck,” sighed Sam. “I can’t believe I’m stuck down here.”

Thankfully, they seemed to be uninjured, as the first aid kit had burst open and landed in a pool of mud. All of the sterile bandages were now ruined with a thick layer of muck.

They waved their flashlight around a bit, looking for a place to sit against the wall. They needed time to think, and that would probably be easier if they were sitting, because they’d be pacing, otherwise. 

One of the walls, a large flat one, seemed to be covered in coloured moss, so to avoid spores, Sam opted for the opposite wall to lean against.

“Okay, Sam, breathe,” they said, closing their eyes. “Let’s think this through. First and foremost, you can’t return back the way you came, because that path’s blocked off by rubble. Even if you could, the caves…”

They froze for a second and shined the flashlight over the way they’d just come from. No path existed.

“Okay, you still can’t go back that way… but maybe that way won’t be that way for very long. I can look away, and soon, there will be another way to go.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam closed their eyes and waited a minute before looking back to the wall. Unfortunately, it was still just a wall, for once completely unchanged. 

Sam took another deep breath, trying not to panic. So far, the walls had been changing, but this time, nothing. They turned back to the flat wall, and the moss hadn’t moved, either. Even the other end of the room seemed sealed off.

As they turned back, however, they managed to catch a look at the flat wall again. With the wall covered in so many colours of mosses, there could at least be some interesting patterns. In fact, why was there even moss growing down here with no light?

Upon closer inspection, however, it wasn’t moss at all. The various different colours were put there intentionally, because this was some kind of crude paint.

Sam immediately moved as far away from the wall as they could so that the flashlight would shine as widely as possible. It wasn’t two steps before the splotches began to form shapes, and then recognizable figures. 

At the top were what appeared to be bat ponies, creatures often considered to be relatives of the pegasi. In fact, Sam thought at first that they were pegasi, but the wing shape of the largest one, possibly the leader, was clearly modelled after the wings of a bat, and they had sharp teeth poking out from their lips.

Below them, at first, Sam thought were earth ponies, but they turned out to more closely resemble crystal ponies. That, or the paint was only chipping off on them, and they weren’t meant to be transparent.

Oddly enough, there didn’t seem to be any unicorns, though. Sam went through the entire crop of crystal ponies working on the farms, wearing leashes with no collars, some incomplete, and could not find a horn on any of them. Even looking into the skies above through the layers of clouds, there were no unicorns or alicorns there, either. Where could they be?

As Sam’s flashlight scanned the wall, it came across an opening. It was actually door-shaped, like a carved archway. That hadn’t been there before.

Through the archway, Sam noted that the wall was only about two metres thick, and on the other side, was still flat, and covered in paint. This one actually showed the unicorns, and hearkened back to the tale of Hearth’s Warming. With that thought in mind, the bat pony at the centre of the first mural was similar to how Commander Hurricane had been described, except as a bat pony. Granted, every pageant came with its own iteration of what he looked like, often even played by a mare, but in books, he was always shown with a firm jawline, violet eyes and a cream coat, as was the big pegasus on the first wall.

If that was the case, then the first wall depicted an ideal world for the pegasi of old. Those leashes holding the earth ponies were actually whips, and were being used to drive the enslaved race to work harder. 

That meant that this mural was showing some battle between the unicorns and the pegasi of old. The unicorns were firing blast after blast into the sky, and the pegasi were dodging them and slashing  and stabbing with their weapons. The excessive use of red in this painting made it very clear that this was a very bloody skirmish, and a line running through the painting starting blue and turning red as it went meant that this was likely the battle of Red River.

There was something off about this mural with the unicorns, too. Every one had two horns, rather than one. It was too consistent to possibly be a mistake. This was done intentionally. For some reason, the pony who painted this thought that unicorns had two horns. Then again, they thought that Commander Hurricane was a bat pony, and that earth ponies, such as Sam themselves, were not valuable enough to fill in. 

Something wasn’t right about this. The pegasi were clearly the main focus, as they were most often depicted as being superior. That in itself meant that whoever painted this thought that the pegasi from that era should have won. Granted, Sam thought that the harmonious union was the best possible outcome, but the reason their second choice was earth ponies winning was not due to any racial pride, but a dislike for the concept of slavery.

“Hello?” called Sam, turning around. “Why do you want me to see this? What do you want from me? What do you want from us?”

No answer returned, no door was made available. In fact, the one Sam had just come through was now blocked off. Rather, it was a flat wall, as if the path had never existed. It was just more of the same painting.

Sam looked at the painting again, more closely. The unicorns… or rather, the bicorns, as they would be, seemed to be losing the fight, as the pegasi were the ones crossing the river. This was counter to what was taught in the schools, that being that the unicorns attacked first. It was said that this battle, like several others before and after, ended in a stalemate. Sam had always wondered why there were so many stalemates, but any research into the subject was full of contradictions. The only thing anypony was sure about was that no one was sure what happened.

A clattering rock drew Sam’s attention, and they turned around, drawing their flashlight along the back wall. The rock was still spinning, but a pathway just behind it had opened up. Only a single rock had clattered, when otherwise, the path had opened by itself silently, as an entire wall had given way. It was odd that this tiny loose stone was the only thing that moved and made a sound. 

Something wanted Sam to go this way. There was no other explanation. Whatever was blocking off paths and opening new ones, whatever force was controlling their actions, it wanted them to go down this path.

Well, Sam wasn’t a coward. If something was trying to challenge them, Sam would meet it head-on. Whatever it was, it was intelligent enough to notify them of changes after they occurred, but only if it wanted them to know, creative enough to put these murals together, and fast enough to not be seen so far. That meant it wasn’t bears, though there could still be bears in the mix somewhere. It was too soon to tell. 

“I know you can hear me,” called Sam, their brow furrowing. “I’m coming for you. It’s best if you decide now whether or not this whole show is what it’s cracked up to be. If you give me back my friends with no harm, I promise to leave no lasting harm on you.”

The tunnel shifted before Sam’s eyes, turning into a stairwell leading up. 

“Thank you for your cooperation,” they smiled as they started up the stairs. “I promise you, whoever you are, that we mean you no harm. All we wanted was a place out of the rain, and now that the rain is over, we’re happy to leave you be. Or stay and chat, if that’s what you want, but it seems you’re not interested in talking back.”

The path shifted again, turning left and bending back the way they had come, but this time going up.

“Let me be clear, though. I don’t take kindly to anypony hurting my friends. If they’re injured already, I’ll forgive only so much. Try not to test my patience…”
> Chapter the Fifth: Pitfall
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Art held tightly to the ladder. He must have gone at least half a kilometre up, and there was still no place to step off the ladder and just stand. Two rungs had broken, almost causing him to fall. That would make descending even more difficult. In addition, his hooves were shaking. If the rungs were breaking, it was safe to say that the bolts holding the ladder to the wall could just as easily be ready to strip away. If this ladder gave way, he would never survive the fall.

He took another shuddering breath and continued up the ladder. He didn’t know what could be up here, aside from a possible exit, but the light wasn’t at the end of the tunnel, it was in his mouth, and he couldn’t see anything else around him. 

And then he spotted the end of the ladder. Half a metre above that, a small cliff. He could probably rest there, as there was sure to be more tunnel for him to follow. If not more tunnel, at least something. Nopony would make a ladder going all the way up here, devoting the time and resources to secure it to the wall, if there wasn’t something up here worth going to. And even if they had, then at least he could rest for a bit before trying to go back down.

It took a fair bit of effort, but Art did manage to climb up onto the ledge. He slipped once, and was sure in that moment that he was dead, but he managed to climb up and secure himself. There was indeed more tunnel to follow, but for now, he was content to just be sitting on stable ground. Or at least, what he assumed was stable ground. 

“I should have brought something to eat,” he panted, more from stress than exhaustion. “I would kill for some trail mix right now…”

A popping sound further in the tunnel drew his attention. 

“Is somepony there?!” he shouted. “I need help!”

Silence. Then another pop, followed by some kind of burbling. 

Based on prior experience, Art had to wonder if what he was hearing was, in fact, his joints popping and his stomach rumbling. It wouldn’t be the first time today that he saw himself  as reality folded over on top of itself. After all, he’d chased himself through the rotund chambers less than an hour prior.

Then again, that was silly. It had been silly then, and it was silly now. More likely, it was something moving in there. As his mind raced through the likely solutions, as well as some unlikely, he concluded that the pops were drops of water, and the burbling was some kind of moving water. A river? Maybe he could follow it out.

With a glimmer of hope, he stood up and followed the noises. Maybe the pond would have some grasses or something that he could eat, or maybe the water was drinkable. Maybe the exit was down a waterfall, and he could make his way back down while breathing in the cool, refreshing spray. All manner of things could be true.

Alas, none of the answers he came up with were accurate. While there was moisture flooding the air here, it was not a pool, but a tiny trickle running down the wall from a tiny polyp in the rock face; the beginning of a stalactite. The water trickled down to the bottom of the cavern, where some kind of mould, or perhaps some kind of anaerobic moss was growing. The popping was coming from the bed covering the cave floor.

On closer inspection, the burbling seemed to be the growths slurping up the water and then pumping it through its mass to propagate outward. The popping was little globules at the end of tiny stems spewing spores into the air. By the time Art found this out, several caps had popped up and hit him in the face, and it even left behind a sticky residue.

Immediately, he scuttled away, almost afraid to breathe as he knew the dangers of fungal infections in the lungs. He gasped, however, when his flank hit a wall. He was at a dead end.

In a way, this was good news. The wall wasn’t the cliff he’d just climbed, as slipping off of that would have been disastrous. Blocked off was way better than falling for who could say how long, culminating in instant death.

He grabbed his mane and put it in front of his mouth and nose. It wasn’t a great filter to keep out spores, but it was better than nothing.

“Okay, I can’t go back,” he reasoned. “I can’t go back, and going forward presents some problems. I don’t know how hazardous those mushrooms are, but I can safely assume that they’re not good to breathe in. That’s just almost universally true. Maybe I can burn them?”

He conjured a small flame with his horn and pushed it gingerly toward the fungus. He had to concentrate, as spewing fire was not exactly a common spell, and quite complicated. Most ponies who could would much rather just light a match, or a candle, with a simpler spark. 

As the flame drew near, a loud screech rang out as a cloud of spores came in contact with the flame and caused a flare. Art almost let the fire go out at that, but managed to keep it aglow. A few more loud flares rang out, spouting torrential jets of flame until the fire touched one of the distended caps. 

Immediately, the cap exploded in flames, sending flammable spores everywhere, which set off other caps, which set off even more, until the sheer force from the concussive blasts managed to put out the flame. 

Art was already on the ground, holding his ears to keep them from being damaged by the sound of massive explosions echoing all around him. It was almost as if five dozen artillery firework shells had gone off mere centimetres from his face. 

He picked himself off and brushed his face. He had a few burns, and was lightly shaken, and now his head was throbbing, but that only served to tell him that he was still alive. The dead didn’t feel pain, after all. 

He let out a small whine. It didn’t do him any good, but it made him feel better. Past the ringing in his ears, he couldn’t hear it, and the popping of the mushrooms was muffled, distorted by his tinnitus. He considered shouting out, screaming for help. After all, he’d just made an exceptional amount of noise. If anypony had heard that, they’d be listening now. But if they called back, he’d be unable to hear them, and unable to tell them where he was.

After two minutes, however, he could hear again. If anypony had heard, they’d be headed his way. Part of him hoped that he’d just ruined somepony’s crop of edible fungus, because they would be very interested in removing him from the caves as fast as possible.

“Hey, I broke your garden!” he shouted. His voice was very hoarse. “All of your precious mushrooms, destroyed! Come grab me and throw me out!”

All he heard was the popping of mushrooms. No voices called back to him. 

He pushed his lantern over the top of the patch of mushrooms. He held the lantern high, not wanting to accidentally ignite any more spores. The entire bed was destroyed, but some parts of it were more destroyed than others. In fact, there was a clearing now where his flame had touched down. The explosion had left a sizable divot in the floor of the cavern.

He took a deep breath. He could probably jump to the clear spot if he took a few steps to do so. From there, he could inspect further down the line. Now that he knew how the spores reacted to fire, he could possibly even clear the cave out in sections, as long as he crouched down, closed his eyes, and covered his ears. 

He set the lantern down in the clearing, making it obvious where he needed to land. He could jump that, for sure. All he needed was a running start.

With his tail touching the dead end of the cave wall, he rushed forward, leaping into the air. For a doughy customer service representative with a penchant for drawing pictures in his downtime, he managed to clear the gap rather cleanly, his hooves touching down right in the centre of the clearing.

Unfortunately, this caused an unforeseen turn of events. His hooves did not stop with contacting the stone, as between those two surfaces, the water beading down from the stalactite mixed with the slime oozing from the mushrooms made the surface very slick. He immediately slipped, sliding forward into the bed of mushrooms in front of him. 

Looking at them from nearby and being struck with a few pressurised caps was one thing. Sliding through a bed of them, with thousands of tiny pops slamming into his underside was a whole different can of worms. As soon as he stopped sliding and slipping and found even the tiniest amount of purchase with his hooves, he rushed back to the clearing, just so he could stand up.

Panting and shivering, he looked down at his chest. Aside from being covered in slime, his skin looked like it had been burnt, or eaten away. It felt like his skin had been torn away, as if the cave floor combined with the water had wet-sanded away his chest. He was bleeding, too.

As he tried to breathe, to both calm himself and clear his head, he noted a crackling sound coming from his throat. There was no avoiding the obvious; that ploughing face first into the bed of mushrooms had caused him to breathe in an uncountable number of spores, and they were now stuck to the inside of his throat. There was no doubt that he was in trouble now. Any denial he might have had in the form of “I should probably see a doctor when the weekend is over” had been heightened to “I need to cancel my weekend plans and see a doctor right away.”

Walking the mushroom-laden path was a bad idea. It had been from the beginning. Trying to burn them away had seemed a good idea, but they were explosively flammable. Trying to go over them was also a sound thought, but terrible when put into practice, due to how surprisingly slimy they were. 

In the end, it seemed that he had no choice but to walk across them. Leaping would cause him to slip again, and sliding was bad, and he did not have the energy to blow them all up. He didn’t even know how far they went. There could be miles of this stuff, and he was only a single unicorn. 

He picked up the lantern and held it in front of him, stepping as softly and precisely as he could to have as few caps touch his hooves as possible. Every step caused his hooves to hurt, as if his flesh was being torn apart. His hooves were battered by the caps that popped off, but that was the least of his concerns. Far more than that, the spores stuck to his fetlocks, and it wasn’t long before he could feel it burning. Worse still, he could feel the same burning sensation inside of his lungs and throat, and all over his chest. 

He began to feel tired, and soon after, nauseated. If he wasn’t so focused on continuing, he’d have stopped and fallen asleep. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. He knew now that reaching the end of these mushrooms and finding an exit to the cave was a life-and-death situation. To quit now meant death. Continuing on from here was the only way.

Eventually, his bloodied hooves stepped on something that was not solid ground, but a hole that the blanket of mushrooms had grown over the top of. His mind had gone fuzzy long before, and his hooves were screaming out in agony, so he didn’t feel it at first. He was falling before he realised it, and landing in the pit below, he found that there was no way back up. Unfortunately, the only way to go was up, and the walls were covered in slime, as were his hooves.

He was trapped down here. He was trapped down here and he knew it. There was no way he’d be able to climb out. 

“HELP!!” he shouted, his voice destroyed. “HELP ME!! SOMEPONY, PLEASE!!”

And as usual, there was no response.

It was hard for Art to breathe. He didn’t know why, but he could feel a horrid scratchiness inside his throat. He couldn’t quite place it, it was just a coarse raspiness. His voice just gave out. 

He slumped down against the slime-covered wall, into the pool of gunk on the floor. He had to hold the lantern aloft, lest it go out entirely. He was exhausted, but he had to hold it up. The light was all he had left. 

“What a harrowing thought that is,” he thought to himself. “This lantern is the last inch of my life. I always thought it would be when I was old, lying in a hospital bed over a disease I haven’t even heard of yet. I wanted kids. I wanted a wife, or at least a marefriend. And now… nothing.”

He started coughing, and after a few hard wheezes, a chunk of fungus came up. The mushrooms were already growing inside of his lungs and throat. That was the harbinger of his death.

He slowly lowered the lantern toward the slime, and as he hovered above the surface, he rasped, “If all I have left is this light, and I am to die, then let this be my final decision. These spores shall never harm another pony again.”

As the flame came in contact with the spore-coated slime, there were a few loud pops, but the liquid put it out. He was now alone with nothing. He could feel his skin being eaten away, and in that hole, that was all he had to look forward to.
> Chapter the Sixth: Up the Creek
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Abi’s body crashed into the stone wall, it gave way, as if it were the door at the outlet of a garbage chute. She tumbled to the floor, rolling over and slamming into the wall. It was painful, but she could keep going. 

She stood up and looked around. No longer was she in a cave, per se, but rather some kind of hallway. The floor was flat, the walls were stone panels, and there were unlit sconces lining the walls. Given that her entrance to this section was through a door that led to a stairway, this all seemed to indicate that somepony lived here. 

However, there was no telling how long ago that was. If somepony still lived here, they could help her leave. Then again, it was possible that nopony else had been down here in centuries. Carved stone had a tendency to stay carved for a long time, especially if there was no rainwater to wash it away.

“ART?!” she called as she regained her breath. “ARE YOU DOWN HERE?!”

Her voice echoed down the halls, but there was no reply. The only change was a cold wind rushing down the hall.

As she shivered, she lowered the intensity from the glow of her horn to just her immediate surroundings, rather than all around her. She didn’t need the light, per se, but if anypony was around, it would help them see her, and it would also alert her if there were spiders, snakes, or anything like that crawling near her.

There was wind down here. That meant that either something was moving the air down here, or there was an outside force, perhaps the actual wind, that was creating some kind of airflow through the tunnel. For example, if, at the end of this hallway, some wind were to blow across the entrance, it would create a vacuum that would suck the air towards it. If there were a volcanic vent at the other end, the hot air would try to escape, cooling as it went until it was chilly where she was. Or, the wind could be pushing straight through.

“Follow the wind,” she sighed. “That’s probably the best way to solve this.”

As she stood up, the wind rushed by her again, this time in the opposite direction, then back the original way. It was like the cave was breathing.

The hallway was huge. A dragon could easily fit down this path, or an ursa, or some other giant beast that lived in a cave. Maybe even some eldritch horror with giant claws and tentacles on its face.

She shivered again, not from the cold, but from the imagery she had conjured up. It was a horrifying image she had designed, and she hoped that such a creature didn’t truly exist, and especially not in the same cave she was trapped in.

Of course, if something was breathing, it had to be breathing in different air than it was breathing out. Otherwise, what would be the point of breathing?

She took a breath herself, and immediately regretted it. Whatever was breathing, it had halitosis, and it was one of the worst cases she’d ever smelled. It was like sewage, as if the beast sustained itself by slurping up the contents of whatever septic tank it could find. 

Waving her hoof in front of her nose, she called out again. “HELLO?! IS SOMECREATURE LIVING DOWN HERE?! I’M SORRY TO INTRUDE IN YOUR HOME, BUT I NEED HELP!!”

Only the rush of wind answered her. She couldn’t tell what direction the breathing was coming from, only that it stank. Could she really trust that whatever it was was sapient? A dragon would probably have warmer breath, and an ursa wouldn’t help her find the exit except by chasing her away from its den, so what could she hope to achieve with words, really?

She turned to the left and turned up the light on her horn, enough so that she could see both walls. She had a fifty-fifty shot of picking the right way to go to find whatever lived here, if anything. That granted an equally good chance to find the exit.

She started walking, glancing up at the walls. Whatever lived here had to have been sentient. The carvings on the walls were very intricately designed, and the repeating pattern made it clear that this was not a naturally occurring formation, but something that was planned out. But that could have been ages ago.

She passed panel after panel, sconce after sconce, and there were no visible doors. There was only more and more hallway, running in a straight line. There weren’t even any corners.

Come to think of it, her entrance had been through one of the wall panels, that was actually a chute door held closed by gravity. That panel didn’t look like a door when she’d looked back, but a wall panel. Could it be, then, that the rest of these panels could also be housing secret doors? There were some possibilities.

She approached one of the panels and placed her hooves on it. A firm push yielded no results. Trying to slide it was equally fruitless. And there was no section of panel that was able to be pulled, so nopony was going to be able to do that.

She moved on to the next four panels, finding each one just as immovable as the last. “Hidden doors,” she scoffed. “What a stupid thought. Who would want to live in a place so full of hidden doors that you couldn’t find the real ones? Who in their right mind would want to live in a place so confusing?”

She sighed and continued on, idly pressing her hoof against each panel as she walked, just in case. If one was a door, it would feel different, for sure. If not, the hallway couldn’t go on forever. Eventually, she’d find something.

As she pressed her hoof to a wall panel about two hundred metres down the hall from where she started, she suddenly fell over, with the door swinging open to her touch. She hadn’t been expecting it, and because she wasn’t braced for it, she tumbled end over end until she landed in a wet hole. 

“Eugh,” she groaned, picking herself up. The slop she had landed in covered her face, and after wiping it from her eyes, she brushed it from her horn and looked around.

The very first thing she noticed about the room was the echo. Her groan bounced back into her ear four times before she could take in the smell. And what a smell it was. She had thought the cold wind in the hallway smelled bad. The warm air in here was even worse, practically burning her nose with every breath.

A drop echoed in the chamber, and she lit up her horn a bit more. She was on the bank of some kind of lake, and a lot of thin stalactites hung from the ceiling. What she had landed in was some kind of colloidal substance; a solid suspended in a liquid. Mud, most likely.

In the middle of the lake, underneath the stalactites was a very tall island, made from the dripping above. The stalagmites almost reached the bottom of the stalactites, meaning that they would soon form some kind of pillar. 

She turned and looked back away from the lake. She obviously hadn’t come here from the lake itself, but from the hallway above. She could see the door, still hanging open slightly, as well as a small stairwell leading up to it. A few nails sticking out of the stone suggested that some wooden steps had led up here at one point, but had long since rotted away.

A loud splash brought her attention to the lake. A series of ripples emanated from the island, though didn’t seem to be centred on the shore. Something had fallen into the water, or had created a bubble just off the island.

“Hello?” she called, hearing herself respond back. 

But there was more response. After a few seconds, she saw something launch from one of the stalactites into the stalagmite island with a wet plop. It was a solid mass, rolling down until it ended up stuck to the side wall. 

Something didn’t seem right about those stalactites, either. There was something about them that didn’t seem quite right. She couldn’t tell from here, but they almost looked like they weren’t stalactites at all. 

She took a deep breath and shook her head from the smell. She could almost taste whatever it was. She held her breath and thought to herself, “I could probably reach them to check them out.”

As she took a few steps out into the lake, it was clear that the hot liquid was becoming deeper. What’s more, the soft mud beneath her made her sink even further, and soon, she was up to her knees. She wasn’t even a quarter of the way out, and the water would only be deeper if she continued. 

So instead, she opted to walk around the lake. Surely, there was an area that was less deep to cross, if not an elevated path. Granted, that would make the island a peninsula, but she wasn’t married to the idea that it was an island in the first place. 

It was hard to move this close to the water, though. As her hooves sunk in the mud, it displaced around her, and when she tried to lift her hooves, it would suck her back down. There was some solid ground further down, but having something pulling her down was terrifying. 

She moved away from the water to make it easier to move, but tried to keep enough light on the shore to take note of what was around there. There were no fish in the pool, at least as far as she could see, but it looked like there were a few crabs, or perhaps some kind of lobster-like creatures scuttling around. 

She soon found a path just under the surface of the lake that led to the island. She made her way down to the water’s edge and started walking across. The water came up to her chest now, and the mud was up to her elbows, but that was the deepest it ever went. Just when she was having second thoughts, she started moving back up as she reached the island.

The smell was even worse over here. She shook the thought from her head and tried to climb up the stalagmite. It was very wet and slippery. But that was to be expected, as water and chunks of mud seemed to be sliding from the stalactites above. 

She managed to make her way up to the top, and by some miracle, she heard voices. “Yeah, I saw that one. It was kind of impressive, but I thought she was trying a little too hard. With a high degree of skill, it should appear effortless, even if it’s not.”

“I mean, yeah, I know what you mean. But even with her flailing about, she still managed to do the whole thing in one go. Honestly, anypony fully cognizant after taking such a beating is impressive, even if you could tell that they were giving it their all.”

Abi looked around, trying to find the source of the voices, but was unable to source them until she climbed a little bit higher. The stalactites were hollow, and the voices were coming from them. More importantly, there were ponies up there right now, and they had little more important to do than discuss some mare’s performance. She needed only let them know she was down there.

The stuffy, stinky air had taken its toll on her. It was hard to breathe, and unpleasant to boot, so she had opted out. If she was going to draw their attention, she needed to shout, and to do that, she needed a lungful of air. 

Opening her mouth and taking a deep breath, she was caught off guard as something shot out of the stalactite in front of her and lodged itself in her mouth. It hit her with such force, in fact, and caught her by such surprise that she lost her grip and fell to the ground, colliding with the ground with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs.

Thankfully, the ground was soft, so she managed to land fairly safely, but the water was starting to drain into her impact site, splashing on her face.

Or perhaps, water wasn’t what to call it. While the ground had hit her hard, as had that lump, she was hit even harder with the realisation of where she was. This was not a naturally-occurring underground lake. She had been trouncing through a septic tank, she’d been punched in the throat with a log of shit, and now there was a steady stream of piss dripping onto her horn.

It took her some time to regain enough of her breath to sit up, and even longer to stand. Breathing was hard, and she really didn’t want to, but she had to. Likewise, she didn’t want to climb up the pile of shit and scream into a toilet pipe that she was stuck in the septic tank, but she had to. 

She began climbing as soon as she could stomach it. She wanted to vomit, and if she weren’t trying to save her waning energy for climbing, she would absolutely do so. She could still taste the vile clump that had forced its way between her teeth. She couldn’t tell if the liquid dripping down her face was sweat or urine, but it didn’t matter now. She had to hold it all in until she at least had confirmation that somepony was on their way to save her.

About halfway up, her grip gave out. She had reached for what looked like a sturdy point, but it was brittle, and fell away, slamming into her knee, forcing all of her weight onto just one slippery anchor point.

This time, rather than slamming into the ground, she slid down, and quite a bit further, too. There wasn’t anything sturdy enough to grab onto that didn’t break on impact. She didn’t stop until she was underwater.

She wasn’t far from the surface, and she had regained her lung functionality. She just had to swim up. She wasn’t the best swimmer, but she could swim. She kicked off the bottom of the pool with all four hooves toward the surface.

Unfortunately, she didn’t move. The same suction that had been pulling her down as she walked the shore was holding her hooves in place. It was like quicksand. Except, it wasn’t sand. She was caught in a puddle of quickshit.

She had to pull herself free. She yanked on her hooves, one after the other, but none of them were budging. Every single one was stuck in the muck. 

She began to panic. The air above was foul, but she still needed it. She would die if she couldn’t take a breath. 

She pulled and pulled, and yet, nothing came of it. Her lungs burned from holding her breath. Her eyes began to well up as her lips began to weaken. She could almost feel herself turning blue.

In a last-ditch effort, she released all of her air in as loud a scream as she could, but her call for help would only burble on deaf ears. Once her lungs were empty, there was nothing left. Unable to hold onto what little strength she had, her light started to flicker, and a minute later, went out entirely, and the lake was still once more.
> Chapter the Seventh: Lost Histories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam huffed as they climbed the stairs. They turned and twisted as the stairs kept going up and up. “Are you still listening?” they called out. “I could use a break. A chair, some water… I know it’s a bit much to ask, but I’ve been climbing these stairs for at least fifteen minutes.”

As Sam rounded the next corner, the floor flattened out. A short distance away, an archway lit up the area. There was a light in the next room, free from the bounds of the flashlight. With a small sigh of relief, they leaped forward, rushing into the light.

The room was very large, just like the rooms with the cave paintings. This one, however, rather than being a flat sheet of wall, was a rotunda, starting and ending with the single entrance. The light came from an oculus in the ceiling, which, despite the fact that it was well after nightfall, shone down into the room as if the sun were directly overhead. It fell directly onto a blue and pink crystal fountain that burbled up water from the ground and dropped it into a basin below, which drained back down into the stone.

The water was neither stagnant nor stinky, so Sam scooped up a small amount, swished it around in their cheeks, and held it on their tongue for a moment. Everything seemed to indicate that it was clean and safe to drink. This was, after all, the very definition of a mountain spring, so this was, by definition, mountain spring water.

After drinking a fair amount, Sam looked around. Like those below, these walls were smooth and covered in paint. Thanks to the light from above, they could see the whole thing. It was divided up into six sections, denoted by a carved pillar between each one, barring the last one which had a doorway that was sliding closed.

“I understand,” called Sam. “You want me to see these paintings before I go. Right?”

They stepped up to the first one. Commander Hurricane was featured prominently, inspiring a field of troops. Or at least, that’s what he seemed to be doing. He was holding up a sword, shouting something at a team of cheering bat ponies. For all Sam knew, he was telling them that they were having taquitos for dinner that night. In all likelihood, though, if somepony decided to immortalise a moment on a wall like this, it was likely a huge event. Most plausible, he was rallying them for a fight.

“Did you want me to talk about them?” asked Sam. “This one, I can’t tell where it is, but it was before a battle, right?”

No response. Whatever magic this was, it was at least able to carve words into the stone, or something, right? It was able to answer their calls for a way forward and some water. A simple yes or no would do.

Sam shook their head and moved to the right, where the next painting hung. This one showed a herd of crystal ponies, being directed by a couple of bat ponies across a field. The crystal ponies were chained up. Sam knew that Sombra had done this, but was unaware that the bat ponies had, too.

As this was much clearer an image than the first one, it was obvious that there was something off about these crystal ponies, too. They weren’t just regular crystal ponies, but something else. Some of them did seem to be regular crystal ponies, but there were so many more with alterations not common on crystal ponies. Sam knew that transparency was an issue with paint, but a lot of these crystal ponies were solid through, and had stony growths on some of their joints. 

“I’m guessing these aren’t actually crystal ponies, but some kind of precursor to them? Maybe a rock pony? Or perhaps they were always called Earth ponies, just, they used to be more akin to the earth?”

The next painting also had a clarifying detail. Once more, Commander Hurricane was standing on an elevated platform, and it looked like somepony shy was standing behind him; Private Pansy, perhaps? A whole squad of bicorns were tied up, each of them sporting two nubs where their horns used to be, all looking up at the stage.

Commander Hurricane was holding a kukri, stained red with the blood of the bicorn he was butchering for all to see. This bicorn, like all of the others bound below, had two nubs, meaning the previous painting where the unicorns had two horns was a conscious decision.

The bicorn Commander Hurricane was displaying seemed to still be clinging to life, despite the circumstances surrounding his current predicament. Hanging by his neck, his organs had been spilled in front of him, being collected in a basket by a small crystal pony whose mane and tail had seemingly been shaved off. 

While this seemed to be needlessly cruel, Sam kept a brave face. This was a dark time in Equestria’s history, to be sure, and even more so, they were in the middle of a war. While it would seem to be too far to go by today’s standards, the bat ponies from thousands of years ago probably would have done something like this. 

“May I ask what’s the point of this?” sighed Sam. “I already know things were bad back then. I can’t go back and make everything right. Things are so very different today, and I can’t think of something common enough that I can do something and simultaneously bad enough that I want to. If you’re trying to call me to action, You’re going to need to be a lot more specific.”

The next image was just as gruesome. Earthen crystal ponies were tied up in a bin, with a few bat ponies bleeding everywhere around them. A pile of wings was scattered about behind a table, with joyous bicorns laughing as one with magic wrapping around a gnarly-looking knife chopped and hacked at the left wing of a captured and bound bat pony. It seemed as if the bat ponies that had been captured by the unicorns were having their wings removed and turned into a facsimile of modern earth ponies, and then put in the same place as the earth ponies, as if they were the same. Granted, a pegasus without wings would bear a lot of resemblance to an earth pony, but still, it wasn’t the same.

It did cause a bit of a reaction in Sam, though, as it seemed to suggest that being an earth pony was a bigger insult than death. If being an earth pony was considered torture, then they were glad to live in a time when this sort of thought was significantly less common. It still showed up from time to time, but it was rare, and never so intense as this. It reminded them of something they’d heard a while ago; that art was all about how it could make you feel, and that good art was anything that caused you to feel powerful emotions. To that end, this must have been good art. Despite that fact, though, Sam didn’t want to hang this on any wall.

“I have made clear my intentions,” shouted Sam. “I don’t want to stay here. I had hoped we had come to an understanding. I’m not here to cause you harm. I know you don’t like earth ponies, but I honestly mean you no ill will. I just want to reunite with my friends and go home.”

They paused for a moment before moving on to the next one. Things were starting to become uncomfortable, and Sam was almost afraid to continue. Whoever was in control of the situation, they were unhappy. It wasn’t enough to just wait for things to play out. Sam had been honest, just wanting to leave, just wanting to take their friends out of this place and go somewhere where they would be harmless. With a deep breath, Sam shook their head and moved on to the next painting. If nothing else, perhaps commenting on each one would earn some kind of insight, if it didn’t open the door.

This one was a bit more tame. Commander Hurricane was back, as was Private Pansy, now confirmed. They were in an infirmary, tending to wounded soldiers. For once, the earth pony stand-ins were not being beaten, but shown some modicum of respect. It wasn’t a lot, as their whole body of work here was to act as assistants to the doctors; carrying their stuff, bringing them things, moving the wounded around, and other menial tasks that required little to no brainpower. Any jobs that required thought were left up to the bat ponies. That would certainly be a mistake, as Sam could spot several malpractice cases in this image.

This painting, along with the last two, seemed to paint the bat ponies as the greatest force for all that was good. While the bicorns would torture and demean their foes, making them wish that they were dead, the bat ponies would instead grant that wish, making an example of the captured foes before ending their existence entirely. It also painted the bat ponies as caring about each other, at least enough to ensure that their injuries healed up properly.

“I understand that you have a lot of respect for Commander Hurricane. To be honest, I thought he was kind of a dick, but a lot of that mostly comes from the fact that, had we both lived at the same time, he’d have forced me to give him half of the food that I grew, or he’d rain hellfire down onto my fields. If I were a pegasus, he probably wouldn’t hate me, but I’m not. I can’t control the circumstances of my birth any more than anypony else. I don’t understand where all of this hatred is coming from.”

There was but one painting left, and it marked a very clear stylistic change. Two horizontal lines divided the painting into three. At the top, the bat ponies reveled and rejoiced in their victory over the dreadful bicorns. 

This was made obvious by the bottom section, which contained the bodies of the bicorns, beheaded and stripped of their flesh, but for every body, there was a skull somewhere else in the painting, either as a trophy on display in the clouds above or set as a reminder in the middle section.

And that is where all the earth ponies were. Some wore smiles, others donned looks akin to beaten dogs, but all of them worked, and with very few bat ponies there to maintain the workflow.

For as gruesome as it was, though, it did display something spectacular. While it wasn’t as good as the current situation, where the races lived in relative harmony, not just the three that were spoken of in the legend, but many more on top of that, this still displayed a modicum of peace. While the earth ponies were enslaved and the bat ponies reaped the reward, there was no visible fighting. There was no competing to find who was the most important, just the two remaining races living together in harmony. 

“While I stand behind the deeper meaning in this, there is something that I have to say. Peace does not have to come at the cost of other ponies’ lives. My friends are unicorns, and we see each other as equals. In fact, I just called them my friends. You and I could be friends, too. All I want right now is to go home with the ponies I love. Please, just… Open the door and let us out. That’s all I ask. Whatever you want, just tell me, and I’ll do what I can.”

The sound of sliding stone rumbled through the room as the door opened. Taking one last swig of water from the fountain, Sam walked to the entrance. While the next room was very dark, a glowing paint lit up the trail and one of the walls. It also covered the stalactites and stalagmites. 

As Sam followed the path painted before them, they noticed several breaks. As they came to the first one, it pointed toward the painted wall. As the pillars stood in front of it, the image was one of Sam, standing out in the middle of a field. 

Feeling a bit on edge, they moved to the next break in the line. This one had Sam looking up from their field work to put on a straw hat and pick up a garden hoe.

At the next break, The field was ploughed, and when the line ended, the field was planted and crops were growing out of the ground.

“You want me to be a farmer… I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I’m an accountant. I don’t know jack shit about agriculture. You’re asking the wrong pony.”

There was no more line to follow, and no response. Sam clicked the flashlight back on and waved it around a bit. With the light on it, the painted path was entirely invisible, only able to exist in the dark.

“I may not know anything about agriculture, but I know that food production is way up since then. The number of ponies starving to death per year is at its lowest point in recorded history. Sixteen reported cases in the last year. There’s plenty of food. I can even bring you some, if you let me go. I promise, I’ll bring you something to eat as soon as I have my friends back.”

Suddenly, the ground gave way under Sam’s hooves, and they fell into a tunnel. It was a very steep slope, and they started sliding down, unable to find purchase with their hooves. They managed to hold onto their flashlight, but that didn’t much matter, as they soon found themself all the way outside, quite a bit higher than they expected to be. 

It was only at this point that they lost their stability, going from sliding on their hooves to tumbling through the air. Sam didn’t stay in the air, not being a pegasus nor a bat pony, or even a breezie. Every second or so, there was contact with the ground; either a rock or a patch of dirt. 

Soon, the dirt gave way to grass, being much softer, but no less impactful. There was no slowing down, however, until they hit the first tree. By the time they hit the fourth, there was friction enough to stop.

Sam groaned as loud as their lungs would let them. Being hit on the head multiple times in rapid succession had disoriented them quite a bit. They could tell where up was because the trees were growing that way, not because they could feel the force of gravity. 

For several minutes, they just lay there, thankfully in the beam of their flashlight shining through the grass, letting their body readjust to the new situation. Only when they were sure that they were able to see in front of them, hear their own voice talking back to them, and able to feel the pull of the earth properly did they feel comfortable doing a systems check.

“One, two, three, four, five…” moaned Sam. Aside from checking their hearing, it was good to make sure that they still knew how to count. Following that, they watched their front hooves as they tried to move them. First at the wrists, then the elbows, and finally, the shoulders. Nothing seemed to be broken, and any visible cuts were minor, at worst.

With all of that, Sam brought their hooves to their neck, checking it for any immediate damage. Finding none, they looked left, then right, then up. Nothing but soreness and stiffness; nothing seemed out of place.

Rocking up onto their elbows, they checked their ability to hold their neck upright without the ground beneath them, and then their ability to look down. Their stomach and chest were scratched up pretty badly, but everything still looked to be intact at a glance.

Lowering down to the ground, Sam slowly rolled onto their back and inspected their back legs for damage. There was a fair bit of blood, but nothing but skin was broken. It was gruesome to look at, and there was always the danger of infection, but no breaks after multiple collisions was a welcome bit of news. 

Sitting up was going to be a chore, as they were still on an incline, and their tail was up over their head. If Sam was going to sit up, or even stand up, turning around the other way was mandatory. 

With a few deep breaths, Sam managed to lift their body up onto their hooves. It was quite a bit more difficult than they were expecting, and they immediately fell sideways onto a tree trunk; the very same one that had stopped their descent. It hurt a lot, but having anything to help support them at this stage was a welcome addition to the equation.

For a few minutes, they just stood there, letting their body adjust to being upright again. While they had spent most of the day and half the night upright, that tumble had done quite a bit of damage to their inner ear. Staying up on their hooves was now an ordeal.

Still, after about half an hour, Sam picked up the flashlight and started taking steps back down the mountain. While they had promised to bring back food, they would need to go find some, first, and the closest source was in their bag. If their friends were released, too, their bags were in the same spot, unless something had happened to the bags while they were gone. At this point, bears would have been surprising.

They managed to make it back before sunrise. Neither Art nor Abi had returned, and their packs were right where they had been left. There was no way that Sam could make it to the camp site, either. They were staying here for the morning.

“I’ll be waiting right here,” they called into the darkness. “Send my friends to me, and we’ll all drop in a little something for you before we go. I think you’ll find this very fair.”

Rifling through Art’s bag for a snack, Sam lay down at the mouth of the cave, looking inward with the flashlight they’d only just been able to hang onto. After a snack of carrot and broccoli chips, they laid their head down on the ground, exhausted from the hike back.