Survival against all odds

by thesupernile

Chapter 5

Phoebe was dead.

Frozen, wet and unmoving, she lay dead beneath the shelter. Damp leaves feigned protection. It was still leaking and raindrops fell on her like a grim reenactment of her demise.

The universe mocked them.

Despite knowing the deadly danger of that rain, no one had expected someone to die. They were too caught up in their adventure fantasies. Survival wasn't a fantasy, for nature was brutal. The group scrambled in vain to try and save her. Two ponies to each side, lifting her up to place beside the fire. Begging for the warmth to spread back to her body. To reignite the flames within. So that she could be saved. So that she could wake up.

But she was never going to wake up. No matter what they tried. Because she was dead and death was final.

Isabel stretched a warm wing over her cold body. It was cruel. Why did it have to be her? Isabel had promised Phoebe she'd make it out alive. Was it all for nothing? Maybe they were right. They would all die out here. With her friend, the last vestiges of optimism died.

Tears ran wet along her face, dripping off her muzzle as reminders of that awful rain. Slamming her hoof into the ground she growled, “we need to honour her. Make a grave. Do something!”

Shocked silence came as a response. They'd all been captivated by the naïve belief that survival was an adventure. Now they were seeing why it wasn't. It was as if nature wanted to punish them for pretending.

“Isabel,” Henry put a hoof on her shoulder, “it's alright. We ca-”

“Don't touch me!” She threw his hoof away, “she was frightened. Terrified. This was her first time out in the wild... Now it's her last…”

“Isabel. Let's focus ahead,” Henry said, “we need to keep ourselves alive. For her.”

“Shut up Henry,” Emma joined Isabel, “we've lost a friend. We deserve to grieve.”

Seeing he wouldn't win the battle, Henry relented, “Okay fine! Build your grave but we need to be gone by nightfall. Don't waste energy burying her.”

Gone. So that meant Henry wanted them moving again. It made sense; she didn't want to stay here any longer than she had to either. Memorialising Phoebe was necessary. She deserved it.

By the time Henry had finished, Isabel was already working. She took the leafy green branches of their shelter and laid them down on the floor. Together with a bit of imagination, they made a kind of bed for their fallen comrade. A bit of meticulous flattening later and it was perfect. Or as close to perfect as it could be. They still weren't experts in pioneering.

Isabel lifted Phoebe up with the help of Emma and they brought her over to the leaves, gently resting her body there.

They had to think for a while about how best to lie her down. Ponies couldn't position themselves quite like humans did. Eventually, Isabel decided to lay her down on her side, facing away from their doomed shelter.

Oscar and Aiden had brought flowers. Rainbows of colours, like their own bodies. Red and orange and purple and blue. Black and white and yellow and green. Every colour lined her body in flowery petals. Each petal was nudged and shaken into a perfect position by Isabel and Emma.

It helped a little; it killed the pain slightly. Yet it still throbbed like an unexploded mineshell.

Soon, she lay there in a blanket of petals, like the bed she must have missed from home. A bouquet of flowers tucked beneath her hooves gently, so as not to disturb her endless slumber. Perhaps this world had a heaven. Perhaps this world did not. Isabel had to hope there was. It was all she had left.

Once they were done they whispered their own goodbyes. A few words from each of them. Parting memories of their time together: that time they'd built rafts on the reservoir; that time they'd looked over their hometown from the mountains. That was just before they'd gotten here. Meanwhile Henry watched over them with agitation. Survival worried him. Awful silence returned.

Gone was the aspiration of surviving eternally in this place. Gone was the hope of hunting and gathering to survive. Gone was Phoebe.

Henry had kept the fire going and boiled their meagre harvest from the day prior. Downbeat but dedicated, he spared no time for deaths.

Passing out meals of agony, some happiness returned to the sombre group. Even death couldn't stop the relief of eating. Like a powerful dose of caffeine, it seemed to bring energy back to their lifeless bodies. Maybe if it hadn't rained, Phoebe would've survived with them. To eat this last meal.

But the gods were cruel.

Collecting up their bags and stamping out the fire, each passed a final gaze over their fallen friend. Staying with her was no longer an option. They needed help and they couldn't count on someone coming for them.

Isabel stared at her fallen friend. She deserved better. Flowers in the woods could've been a burial. She deserved a burial. But as much as she wanted to stay with her forever, she knew as much as Henry did that they couldn't. Lest those that survived join the ones that died. By moving quickly, they could ensure Phoebe was the only one.

Something about saying put was dissatisfying now. They'd gone days travelling without issue but the night they stayed was the night she died. It was completely irrational. Though the beliefs were based in correlation and coincidence, they still stuck.

Isabel had an idea. Curling her wing below her, she tore three feathers from it. Three dark feathers from the forefront of her wing. A little piece of her. Laying them on Phoebe's corpse felt good. She would stay with her forever. She could stay to comfort her through death. Another tear dropped down her cheeks.

But finally, they left their fallen friend and trekked back down the river.

---

Swirling was getting fed up with these arrows. Somehow, they'd managed to get much better without helping any more. It had taken her almost three hours to realise they hadn't crossed the river. Had she seen the sideways arrow a few hundred metres in the forest she might have guessed. Their placement was awful. At least they cut through the bark now. Otherwise she'd never have been able to follow them.

They'd gone at least ten miles now, and unfortunately, the survivors had chosen to walk up the river that lead straight to the Everfree. Hopefully they'd decide to cross the river sooner rather than later. Otherwise they'd have even more trouble to worry about.

Another of those marks. One of the ones with the line underneath it. Usually that meant they'd camped nearby. Searching for signs was easy enough; she'd been taught it in the guard. And sure enough, she could see the ruins of a fire peeking through the bushes.

As she reached it she stopped. Frozen in place by what she saw.

“Private Gale?” Lieutenant Drift asked, “is everything alright? What did you see?” Once she'd caught up she froze too, paralysed by shock and horror.

Before them lay a dead earth pony. They were too late. Someone had already died. Waves of angry self hatred boiled up within her. Had she been a day earlier would this pony be alive? How about two? She could have done more.

Except she couldn't have. Her best wasn't enough.

But there were still more to save. Flowers adorned the body, the kind that had to have been placed by someone. More ponies meant wore work but if any of them survived it would all be worth it. She just had to hope that some of them might.

Swirling placed her hoof onto the pony's cheek. Stone cold. The body had been here for a while.

Most peculiarly, three blue feathers rested upon her chest. A very strange action for a pegasus, feathers weren't worth much, but it did tell them something new about the group. They had pegasi.

Which made it even more mysterious. If they had pegasi, why hadn't one of them flown up? They would have seen exactly where they were. Or they could have flown to call help; Ponyville was many miles away but a pegasus could easily cover that in an afternoon. On foot, it would take much longer. At least three days hike for a soldier, more for these malnourished survivors. Maybe she was one of those pegasi that couldn't fly. But they were rare. It was another coincidence in a long list of coincinces.

That would have to wait for later though. Now they had the body, they needed to send it back to a town. Somewhere it could be buried properly.

Ponyville was ideal. Ponies there were already on lookout for survivors, though it was impossible anyone would ever make it that far.

Swirling wanted to stay with her, feel the death of this unknown pony she had failed to save. To respect her death. But time was ticking for the remaining ponies.

They'd leave the body here. Another guard would collect it. They needed to catch up. And fast.

Comments

[Hollowed Specter]

Can we make a Telltale Heart. Friends are supposed to be able to live to tell their tale not die meaninglessly in this sprawling tomb.

[Slightly Dazed Bystander]

Oh, the heart of the Everfree, huh? I'm having trouble working out what will kill them quicker; the environment or the wildlife.