//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: Survival against all odds // by thesupernile //------------------------------// Swirling Gale was tired of searching. Moving where? Following what? They'd scanned and rescanned every inch of the beach. Even sent patrols up and down the coast. Whoever made the message had vanished. Intensely infuriating, the mystery just became more and more mysterious. She was beginning to think it was a trick. Some rowdy foals trying to waste the guard's time. But something disturbed that theory. Firstly, the pile of burned out junk. It looked like a magical surge of some kind. Not what a group of teens would leave. It certainly wasn't the first time a magical anomaly had struck Equestria. The system was efficient now; Princess Celestia had already shipped the metal off to Ponyville for further study. Swirling was beginning to wish she'd never reported this. Save her all these hours in the sweltering sun. Anyone with good sense would have taken to the trees. The trees. No one had searched them. They could provide the answers. Marching up to them, she looked for any secrets hidden in the bushes or grasses. Any kind of distress call was almost unheard of in Equestria. Ponies knew the lands around them and those with a thirst for adventure were quick to join the guard. Except in Everfree. Distress calls were very common there. But this wasn't Everfree. That forest didn't start for at least fifty miles. Briefly, the thought of searching for these ponies there crossed her mind and made her shudder. Resting for a moment along a tree trunk, Swirling stared out at the forest. A nice forest. The kind she was used to seeing from above but never had the time to truly be in. Royal guard training included all sorts of survival activities. Some in forests and others in deserts but Swirling had never really appreciated the forest for what it was. She stopped to look at it. Every bush and every tree. Not searching for hoofprints like she was trained to. Birds called above her in an incomprehensible pattern. Then something caught her eye. Something strange. One of the trees had something scratched into it. Almost unnoticeable. It was almost a wonder she had found it at all. Walking closer, she brushed off the dirt caked onto the trunk. Pitifully etched onto the tree were a series of lines. Kind of like an arrow, though that could just be Swirling’s imagination. At first, she thought it might be a timberwolf. They would scratch trees like this to mark territory. But this wasn't Everfree. So it had to be something else. “Lieutenant Drift!” She called over her commander, “I’ve got something.” “I'm coming over,” Drift ordered, “everyone else keep looking.” He jumped into the air and flew down to her. “Could this be what we're following?” Swirling pointed to the tree, “there's marks in this one. Deliberately cut.” “Looks like timberwolves,” Drift dismissed it, “a pony would've cut a better mark than that.” “But we aren't in Everfree. There aren't any timberwolves out here,” Swirling explained, “the hoofwriting was pretty bad maybe the cutting would be too?” “Perhaps,” Drift looked slightly more convinced, “are there any more of these?” Swirling took a glance around before adding, “not yet. But I would guess we're looking to search that way.” She pointed down the beach. “Go look,” Drift ordered, “if you find some more let us know.” Slowly and carefully, Swirling examined each tree. Until she found another arrow. Almost as bad as the first, it had the same look. Distinctive, once you knew what to look for. She decided she'd find another. Then Drift couldn't possibly dismiss it as coincidence. Sure enough, she found another mark. Cut slightly deeper this time, the pony making them seemed to be getting better. Dashing back down the beach like a cheetah, Swirling Gale reached the rest of the guard. “There's more,” Swirling repeated, “there's more of them.” Drift turned back to her, “then you may be right. Keep following the arrows. I'll go with you.” Swirling nodded relief away. Finally, they had something they could help these ponies with. It was time to save their lives. “Not another step!” Aiden complained, “we're staying here. Wait for rescue.” Days had passed and the group had not found the end of the river. Seeming just as wide and dark as before, the currents of the endless stream of water tormented them, never giving them any chance of crossing it. Admittedly, their shelter had improved. Where before the group had sheltered under bare trees, now the group could boast a somewhat impressive den. A long log between two trees supported a set of five branches, each with a million green leaves to protect the group from the relentless rain that threatened to batter them every day. Empty threats, thankfully. The group wasn’t ready for rain yet. But it was only a matter of time till their shelter would be beaten and bruised by brutal raindrops. Begrudgingly, Isabel replied, “that was the deal. We’ll stay here from now on.” “How's the wing dexterity going?” Henry asked, “think you can tie me a bowline?” “Possibly. Where do you need it?” Isabel returned. Henry pulled out a couple lengths of wire. He explained, “put some loops in these, then we can make them into snares.” “Where are you going to put it?” Isabel asked, “haven’t seen so much as a run in miles.” “Someone will find one eventually,” Henry dismissed her, trotting off to go solve some other problem. Rolling her eyes, Isabel took the wires and laid them out before her. She understood his frustration, if she hadn’t had these wings she would have envied them too. Having "hands" made her feel more useful. Though they were advantageous, the ends of her wings weren’t infinitely dexterous. She thought they were worse than fingers but she couldn't know for sure; half a week was easily long enough for memories to become distorted. Being a pony was becoming almost normal now. Something in her mind told her that was a bad thing; the others would probably think her crazy if she admitted it. She still wanted to go back. Everyone still did, but normality was beginning to take hold. There was too much to do. With human bodies it would be tough, but there were too many of them that couldn't do anything. Sometimes she wondered how she'd fare on her own. Not well, she decided. None of them could survive alone. Most of the others were out looking for food, but Phoebe had stayed. Isabel hadn't eaten since that second day. It seemed like forever ago now and her stomach growled endlessly. Maybe these traps would help. Probably not. They shouldn't really be looking at meats anyway. Plants were easier and, if they were horses, likely more nutritious. But they could survive. To stay optimistic she had to keep thinking that. Demotivation could be the thief of potential. Or death. But that was pessimism talking again. Phoebe seemed the worst off. Already she looked much thinner than before and she'd lost that glint of energy that once filled her eyes. But the glint left when they got here. Since they'd become ponies. Since then, she'd been terrified. Though the trees were thick above them, Isabel could already see the ominous black of the clouds massing like an army. Whatever god had put them there had to be a malevolent one. Sleeping when wet was near impossible. And without shelter it was cold. Really cold. Henry came back struggling with a branch. Almost two metres in length, it dragged up the dirt behind him like a garden rake. It looked heavy and bringing it here was probably a waste of energy. Though that would depend on what it was used for. “There,” Henry looked proud, “tie the snares to that. Loop on the top and tie it on the bottom. We'll put it up a tree or something to catch some squirrels.” Isabel was skeptical of the idea. It felt like a waste of precious time. A squirrel wouldn't feed them for long and they'd only manage to catch one a day at the most. It would be even more pointless if the creatures they now were didn't eat meat. But the others didn't seem to care. They were all pretending nothing had happened. “Fine,” Isabel reluctantly agreed. Arguing would be worse for everyone, “gives me something to do. What do we have in terms of plants?” “Not much. Doesn't seem to be berry season,” Henry informed her. Isabel recommended, “Don't look for berries. They'd probably be poisoned anyway. Try looking for dandelions and nettles. Both make great dishes when you boil them.” “Nettles? You mean like stinging nettles? Or am I missing something?” “Yes,” Isabel impatiently replied, “stinging nettles. Humans can eat them and we probably can too. Just try not to sting your hooves or whatever.” “Alright,” Henry warily accepted, “we'll keep an eye out for some.” Isabel had never actually tried stinging nettle but the few survival books she'd been fortunate enough to read had taught her it was true. They'd have to have a little faith. Being next to a river, they were fortunate that water wasn't an issue. Even if they ate nothing, they should survive at least a month. Possibly long enough for someone to finally rescue them. Emma's comment had weighed on her mind for some time. Being in another world sounded right, but she didn't really know if it were the case. Some things were different. Plants she'd never seen before were scattered about from time to time but she was no botanist, just a girl with a little local knowledge. For all she knew they could be a hundred miles south. It would explain the new plants at the least. The one thing that supported her theory was the stars. It had been too cloudy to really tell on most nights but the glimpses she had seen offered nothing familiar. New stars didn't necessarily mean a new world. But it would mean a hemisphere change at the least. More reason to doubt they were still at home. Another thing that bothered her was the electronics. Everything they'd had was destroyed by whatever brought them here. Isabel guessed that their circuits had been overloaded by energy but that conclusion didn't seem satisfying. Though sometimes conclusions weren't. Endings can be painful but the mysteries would haunt her. Night was rapidly approaching their quaint campsite. Distant flashes of lightning streaked the sky. Phoebe was watching them too but she seemed distant. Tired. The long days with no food were getting to all of them. Phoebe the most. As the others returned, the first drops of rain began to fall. “We found some nettles,” Aiden happily declared, “and a few dandelions. Don't suppose we could get a fire going?” “We could try,” Isabel muttered, “the rain might put it out if it picks up.” “Sorry?” Emma asked. Even as they waited, the occasional drop had turned to a continuous drizzle. “Not if this rain keeps up,” Isabel explained, “I'm not an expert fire lighter.” “So we'll go hungry till tomorrow?” Aiden summarised. “These things are what we make of them,” Henry interrupted to boost morale again, “we've gone days without food, what's one more night?” A collective groan of annoyance. All of them needed food. Another night was more than another night. It might as well have been forever. “A rough night at that,” Emma summarised, “this rain is going to kill me.” “Get under the shelter,” Henry ordered everyone as the drizzle picked up, swirling into a torrent. The shelter had never really been big enough for all of them to comfortably sleep beneath it. There was always a plan to expand it eventually. Never had there been enough time. Someone had always slept nearby to give the rest of them some space. Today it was different. All of them huddled under that blanket of leaves suspended above them. It was their only hope. Worse still, the wind was irregular. It blew water into the corners of their building so that dry space became even more limited. Only now had any of them seen the wisdom in upgrading to an A-frame that morning. Two walls was better than one. But not as good as four. Raindrops cut at them like icy knives, bringing wave after wave of shivering cold. Cold. So cold. As more and water flooded over their flimsy leaf clad umbrella it brought with it frigidity. Until now, the nights had been mild. Until now, the nights had been tame. Until now, none of them faced the harsh nature of the elements. Now it was a trial by fire. Clutching together like a family of penguins, the ponies within huddled for warmth. Fleeting warmness in a hailstorm of ice. In the centre was Phoebe and around her everyone else crowded. Shifting and squirming to bring back the spark of heat that lit the fires within. Endless cold. For a moment, Isabel forgot she was in a temperate forest and pictured herself in an icy tundra. Rain felt like snow and puddles like ice. Fur might have saved their lives on another night. It kept them warm when it was bone dry. But once water had seeped its way in, fur became infected; it was a superweapon turned against its creators. Fur froze to their backs as they shivered. Cold cut deep. Too deep. Glacial winds brought more deadly frost. It kept on. Huddled closer and closer the ponies fought for their lives. Swords of heat against a mountain of cold. Doomed from the beginning. Sleep was a mere fantasy. A dangerous fantasy. Wearied, all of them hoovered on the edge of consciousness. But sleep meant death. Body temperature would drop and they would be gone by morning. Though none of them were unfortunate enough to have lost blood, all were malnourished. Malnourished souls were vulnerable and the rain knew it. Throwing another fusillade of watery artillery strikes, the clouds refused to yield. Merciless in their unending bombardment of the survivors. Cold turned to fear. Fear turned to death. But then it was over. Suddenly as it had started, the dreadful downpour finished. It was over. They were alive. “I've never been so cold before,” Aiden's teeth chattered, “we need to get a fire going. Now. Before we all freeze to death.” Isabel was immediately on it. Lighting a fire with wet wood would've been hard. It still would be. But they had char cloth and kindling in their bags. Hopefully that could swing the balance in their favour. In the subzero temperatures, fire was their last chance. It was slowly and sluggishly that Isabel completed that task. Every part of her wanted to go to sleep. But she knew that meant death. She wasn't going to die out here. None of them were. Soon, flames shone with lifesaving warmth. Glinting like golden slices of heaven, that fire twinkled and shone. It was magnificent. Everyone crowded around the emerging bonfire. Everyone except Phoebe. She lay silently where she had been earlier. “Phoebe?” Isabel yelled out to her, “Phoebe?” Desolate silence was all she heard. Oscar was closest to Phoebe; placing a hoof over her heart told him everything. Cold as ice. No heartbeat. Phoebe was dead.