32 - Hope You Got Your Things Together
Into Midwich Forest again. Bitterroot reflected that, for such an ominous place, they sure were going into it a lot.
They were following the river, but it wasn’t like the first day, where they took it slow and often waited for Code and Charcoal to poke over this or that. No, they were just going about as straight as they could with the river, ignoring anything else besides that. It was more like a journey than a ramble. They had a trail. Easy.
Yet the atmosphere was uneasy as they walked. Not because of any tension or anxiety, but because the Tratonmanians were still processing what they’d heard in the past- hour? Was it really that short? No wonder. Bitterroot could feel their eyes on her. Did they consider her a prophet? Or something else? Maybe someone else talking to the Deormont was unthinkable for them, simply because that wasn’t the way it worked. Already, she was getting the feeling that was going to go looking for a crash course in Tratonmane theology once all was said and done.
One of the ponies seemed particularly focused on her. Redbud; Bitterroot flinched at the sudden knowledge of her name. She was an earth pony, not unlike most of the others. But she kept staring like Bitterroot was a serial killer. Yet, somehow, Bitterroot managed to keep her spirits up.
Eventually, Redbud’s… whatever got the better of her and she matched pace with Bitterroot. “Mind if’n I ask ye ’bout bein’ a timberwolf?” she asked.
Bitterroot flinched and her wings tightened. But she nodded. “Go ahead.”
“Did it hurt?”
…Huh. That was… Huh. Not as bad as the mind part of it, but definitely not something she wanted to think about. Still, she said she’d talk. “Like, physically?”
“Aye.”
Whoof. Bitterroot turned her eyes forward. It somehow felt wrong to look at somepony while saying this. “The… actual transformation was pretty painful,” she got out. “Especially with the- with the eyes.” She gestured at hers. “But after that, it was… I was… kind of submerged. I… was aware, but I didn’t really… feel much. Why?”
“I wish tae ken what’s happenin’ tae Whippletree.”
Ah. “It’s not painful, but it’s… not pleasant. He’s- We should find him.”
“Aye.” If Redbud had any more questions, she didn’t ask them.
They walked for a little while longer before Bitterroot said, “Okay, uh, weird question… This hasn’t happened before, has it? The transformations?”
Redbud gave Bitterroot a Look.
“If you’d asked me yesterday about any gods living in the mine,” Bitterroot said, “I’d’ve laughed it off. But as of an hour ago, I’m open to pretty much anything. …So?”
“…Nay.”
Hmm. Bummer. (Wait, bad, ponies not spontaneously turning into timberwolves wasn’t supposed to be a bummer.) But Bitterroot’s interest had been piqued and she trotted forward a bit. “Hey, Charcoal?”
“Ley lines don’t do things like this,” Charcoal said.
Bitterroot blinked. “…How’d you…”
“Because it’s the first thing anyone would think of?” Charcoal said. “There’s a ley line running through the town for centuries, then one day it burns bad- turns bad, and then two ponies turn into timberwolves within the week. Anyone could follow that. But ley lines aren’t… transformative like that. They’re more growth and… stuff.”
“Oh.” There went that theory.
“The problem with making a theory right now,” Code said from Charcoal’s other side, “is that we only have two data points to work with. Both of the ponies who turned into timberwolves were pegasi, but there are a number of ways that could go.”
“Hmm.” Bitterroot kept walking for another moment as she thought, then said, “My, uh, transformation didn’t start until I went outside in the night, and Crosscut and Whippletree were outside at night when he changed. Do you think there’s anything to that?”
“Quite possible,” said Code. “Night can be symbolic of a loss of control, given how people usually sleep then. Sleepwalking, unconsciousness, darkness making it hard to do any sort of work… sundowning. There was even a brief period where it went further and all madness was attributed to Nightmare Moon. Lunacy.” She gave a low whistle. “Our former princess was not happy when she heard that. In any case, properly applied, transformation magic can be made easier at night, while dispelling transformations can be easier during the day. Which means you were fighting against the current, Amanita.”
“Huh?” asked Amanita from up the line, looking over her shoulder. “Did you say something?”
“Furthermore,” continued Code, “if whatever changed Whippletree is precarious enough to require the night boost, there’s a distinct possibility that the daytime can dispel it. Hopefully, we won’t need to wrestle with an angry timberwolf.”
“And if we do?”
“We’ve got some winged ponies. You can fly back and get the ingredients we need.”
Bitterroot wasn’t exactly keen on serving as a being of burden, but, well, pegasus. Being able to move faster than the other tribes generally meant you were saddled with the jobs that required fast movement.
“Maybe we should’ve picked up the ingredients for the ritual,” Charcoal mused. “Just in case. Crosscut told us right before we left, and we could’ve just taken a few minutes to pick them up… But can you imagine carrying whiskey all the way through the forest? We don’t even know how much we’ll need. We practically would’ve needed to take the whole barrel…”
The trip gave Amanita plenty of time to mull over the last few days. With the knowledge of the Deormont, little bits and pieces started fitting together. The townsfolk simply keeping a secret explained a lot, often in the form of a pony suddenly being put on the spot about something and having to pull a reasonable-sounding lie out of the air. Yes, of course the ley line was responsible for the crops, why do you ask?
But there was something she still didn’t know about.
“Arrastra?”
Arrastra grunted and kept her eyes forward.
“Now that we’re… being honest with each other… you heard about the time our room got broken into, right?”
“Aye,” said Arrastra. “And I ken who did it. You’uns had the mother, an’ that’s the Deormont’s symbol. An’ Code, she talked so much about studyin’ it…”
“Which might’ve led us right to the Deormont,” Amanita finished. Imagine the panic they must’ve felt; all that secrecy, undone by someone happening to get curious and investigating backwoods charms.
Arrastra nodded. “We couldnae let you’ns have that, so I talked tae Cabin. She jes’ went in an’ taked it while you’ns were out. She has the keys.”
Quick, clean, simple. Easy. Although- “So why’d she trash the place?”
For the first time, Arrastra looked away from her path. “What?”
A small chill began forming in Amanita’s stomach. “Bitterroot said she saw a unicorn in our room and came to find it trashed. She also thinks a pegasus with a gray head and red wings might’ve been involved.” She swallowed. “Does… Does either of those sound familiar to you?”
Arrastra snorted and returned to gazing ahead.. “Mayhap somepony jes’ plumb didnae like you’ns very much. An’ a pegasus with a gray head an’ red wings? Ye’re off yer rocker. There ain’t nopony like that in Tratonmane.”
Huh. Bitterroot had seen that pony correctly, right? She’d seemed pretty convinced of it. And the second pony had to have broken in for a different reason, which maybe meant a reason no one else in Tratonmane knew. Especially if they were keeping out of sight so well they weren’t noticed. How many secrets could one town have?
Well. One thing at a time. Find Whippletree first.
Maybe their mystery pony was at the end of the line.
“Amanita?”
“Yeah, Bitterroot?”
“How will we know when we get to wherever we’re going? The Deormont just told us to follow this, not how long it’d take.”
“Asks the pony who’s actually talked with the Deormont.”
Bitterroot snorted. “But seriously.”
It was a question Amanita had mulled over during the walk; it’d been going on for long enough, and anything was harder when you didn’t know where the destination was. Fortunately, she had an answer. “We’ll know. It’ll just be… something unusual. Something distinctive. Something we can’t miss.”
“But you don’t know what that something is.”
“…No.”
Bitterroot craned her head upwards. They were maybe a few dozen yards from the eastern wall, still high enough to block out the rising sun, and the cliffs loomed above them like a skyscraper. “I think we’re getting close, though.”
“Gut feeling from the Deormont?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Hey! Everypony hold up!”
The voice from the front of the line sounded more surprised than nervous. When they approached her, she was gawking at- “The river’s gone,” she said, pointing. Indeed, the river was flowing on, but it continued beneath a layer of moss and grass, seeming to vanish right into the ground.
Amanita and Bitterroot looked at each other; both snorted.
“We dinnae have tae swim, do we?” the mare asked as she peered into the hole.
“I hope not,” said Code. “Let’s look around. Can we get some more light?”
“On it,” said Amanita. Her horn brightened and she sent a ball of light spinning forward. For a moment, it streaked past slim trees and threw long shadows in the dark.
Then the trees vanished as it sped into a clearing and soon sparked against the cliff face.
Amanita immediately sent out some more light, this time controlling it more closely. The river had led them to a clearing nestled right up against the cliff, large enough for maybe two Tratonmane houses, three if you got creative. The trees surrounding it were thinner than the others in Midwich Forest, but growing more closely together. And on the other side, burrowing deep into the rock, yawned the mouth of a cave.
“If that ain’t where we’re headin’, I’ll eat my tail,” growled Arrastra. She took a step into the clearing-
“Whoa, wait!” Charcoal lunged forward and bit down on Arrastra’s tail, keeping her from taking another step. “Duhnt, duhnt guh! Muskug!”
Arrastra quickly backflapped, tumbling as she bumped into Charcoal. “Pardon,” she said as they got back up. “But what’s wrong? Ain’t that jes’ grass?”
“No, I’m pretty sure that’s muskeg,” Charcoal said. She batted some dirt off her nose. “It’s- Actually, let me check.” She delicately walked a few steps into the clearing, like it would explode if she stepped on it wrong. She pushed at the ground-
-and across the entire clearing, it undulated ever so slightly.
“It’s, it’s this big… confection- collection of moss and peat floating on a pool of water,” Charcoal said. “There’s this bog underneath it, acidic and with a lot of decomposing stuff. Muskeg can break if you’re too heavy for it, so you’d fall in and maybe drown or freeze to death.”
“Cheery,” mumbled Arrastra, flexing her wings.
“Although…” Charcoal gave the clearing a quick lookover. “It might not be that deep, this isn’t a large clearing… But around here, just don’t step on grass if it’s not between trees. If it is close to a tree, the ground’s above the water table and can hold your weight.”
“Uh-huh.” Amanita set a hoof on some not-between-trees grass and wiggled it. The ground felt like a stiff waterbed. “I’ll do that.”
“Look, see, the river’s flowing in right here, this is just moss floating on top of it… and it’s probably flowing out somewhere to the north…”
“Right,” Arrastra said, obviously distracted. “C’mon.” She started edging around the clearing, sticking to just inside the trees.
“There’s got to be an outflow somewhere,” Charcoal mumbled, “or else… wait, wait, hold on, are we… really going in there?”
“Aye,” said Arrastra.
“I…” Charcoal folded her ears back. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea…”
“Ye came with us tae help find Whippletree! An’ now yer backin’ out?”
“Well, I… didn’t think we’d… be going in anywhere like that…” Charcoal’s tail flicked. “Caves, caves are… really dangerous…”
“Ye went intae the mine wi’ not a problem,” said Arrastra.
“Because you knew where you were going! That, that cave’s uncharted! We don’t know-”
“Whippletree’s prolly in there, we must needs-”
“I can stay out here with her,” said Bitterroot, stepping between the two of them. “Just so there’s someone else around. You go in, investigate, find what you find.”
“Mmhmm. E’eryone who’s comin’, c’mon.”
Amanita gave a quick wave to Bitterroot and Charcoal, then scooted around the clearing with the rest. They practically clung to the cliff wall as they crossed the muskeg outside the trees; no one fell in and they reached the cave without incident.
As chiropterus echolocation started bouncing through the tunnel, Amanita brightened her horn along with the other unicorns. The cave sloped upwards, soon leaving the muskeg behind. The ceiling was low but the passage was wide enough for half a dozen ponies to walk abreast with plenty of room to spare. Thick roots curled their way out from the muskeg and up the cave, up into the darkness.
“Hey!” Charcoal yelled across the clearing. “Stay safe!”
“We will!” Amanita called back. A not-insignificant part of her wanted to stay back with Charcoal, but she was one of their main sources of light. Staying back would be bad form.
Chirrup. “…Ain’t a branch in the cave as far as I can hear,” said Arrastra. Her voice was growing low, tense, and she wasn’t quite pacing in place just yet. “C’mon.” Without waiting for a response, she set off into the cave, chirping away. The rest of the group was pulled with her and Amanita was caught up, stumbling along until she managed to get her hooves under herself.
She climbed up over a bump in the passage and flinched as her horn scraped the ceiling. The feeling of the entire weight of the mountain pressing down on her was coming back.
“Sorry,” mumbled Charcoal.
“For what?” asked Bitterroot.
“If Whippletree is in there, you… didn’t get to go in and save him. It’s, y’know, heroic, and you’re stuck out here with me.”
“Meh.” Bitterroot flexed her wings in something like a shrug. “I can claim to be a god’s emissary. I got us this far. They can have that bit.”
“Still…”
“In fact, you know what? I’m sorry. We’re following the river because the Deormont said to, but I heard you had the idea of doing it yesterday, before any of this happened. If we’d done it then, you’d be getting the credit. So: sorry for stealing your thunder.”
Charcoal flicked her ears. She frowned and faux-whined, “HEEEeeeey… But, really, it’s probably good that we didn’t come here yesterday. We didn’t know about Whippletree maybe being a timberwolf, and if that’s the way he is right now, at least they’re prepared.”
“That’s a funny way of avoiding disappointment.”
“Is it? Because that’s the way I feel.”
Bitterroot shrugged. “Eh. Maybe.”
Charcoal frowned and shook her head. She trotted off a slight ways into the forest to take a drink from the river. When she came back, Bitterroot said, “Didn’t you say muskeg is acidic?”
“It’s not that acidic, and I’m upstream. The water’s about as safe as anything else in this forest.”
“Right, yeah.” Out of curiosity, Bitterroot put a tiny bit of weight on the muskeg; the slight flex was surreal, like the earth itself was spongy. “Muskeg is weird,” she said.
“It’s a sort of peat,” Charcoal said. “Lots of pants- plants that are decomposing but aren’t all the way there yet. This means it’s pretty infertile as soil, so trees like this-” She patted one of the nearby ones. “They don’t get the nutrients they need, which is why they’re so ski-”
She blinked and patted the tree again. She took a closer look at it, brightening her hornlight. Not only was the tree skinny, but it was pale as well. Charcoal frowned, looking up and all around. “Huh.”
Bitterroot followed her gaze. Whatever she was looking at was lost in the forest. “Huh what?”
“Aspens.”
The cave sloped slightly upward, still moving straight. The frequent chirrups of echolocation had faded into the background for Amanita and she didn’t flinch whenever she heard them anymore. But her light could only reach so far and the cave stretched off into the darkness ahead of them. Arrastra kept nearly moving out of her light, waiting for everyone to catch up, trotting ahead again, and repeating. Amanita couldn’t shake the feeling she was being guilt-tripped, even if only by accident.
The roots were irregular and she stumbled over one of them in the semi-dark, narrowly catching herself before she smacked into the floor. They were big, especially if the bog outside was supposed to be acidic. What were they heading towards?
“Maybe we should’ve sent a pegasus to get those headlamps,” said Code as she almost tripped over her own root.
“Eh,” said Arrastra. “They wouldnae have been much use. Not yet.” To be fair, the cave hadn’t branched off yet, so there was only way they could’ve gone. “Mebbe if’n we dinnae find him soon.”
“Are- Are you sure?” Amanita asked in a quiet voice that the cave still magnified. “It won’t take long. We can-”
“I dinnae want tae lose ary more o’ my family,” snapped Arrastra. She immediately came to a stop, sucking in a breath and closing her eye. “Pardon,” she muttered, “but…”
She turned around to face Amanita. “I’m old. I’ve seen ponies pass on. But they were, most o’ them, older’n me. Whippletree’s more’n twenty year younger. I ken it’s comin’ in time, comin’ fer all o’ us — hay, I ain’t got much time left in meself — but…” She paused. Her wings rustled. “Death… It hits different when ye’re one o’ the oldest ponies ye ken. Whippletree’s still got time left. I dinnae want him tae lose that.”
Amanita opened her mouth, closed it. What Arrastra was talking about was familiar, more familiar than she really wanted to admit. Whippletree might not be dead yet, but Arrastra was still driven to get him back. So Amanita gave her what she’d received from Circe at first: a concession. “The cave might be long,” she said. “Why don’t we turn around and get the lamps at the first fork?”
Arrastra pawed at the ground once, but nodded. “Aye,” she said. And without another word, she turned around and set off into the dark again, chirping. Code gave Amanita a small nod.
They’d only been walking for ten seconds when the cave changed. Past a certain point, every surface was flat and carved, the angles turning sharp and the ceiling growing higher up. Everypony’s pace slowed, even Arrastra’s. She came to the line where natural gave way to artificial, but didn’t cross it. “What dae you’ns reckon?” she muttered. Her wings twitched, like she wanted to keep moving, and her hoof strayed to her chainsaw.
Code set her hoof right on the edge of the line and Amanita felt the magic in the earth twist. “I feel… something,” she muttered. “Something strong, but not nearby. I don’t think there are any harmful enchantments in the hallway.”
“Good.” Arrastra promptly stepped forward-
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
The entire crowd flinched at the voice slithering out from the stones. Female. The militiaponies quickly arranged themselves in an outward-facing circle and herd mentality pushed the others to follow suit. Amanita felt her legs shaking as her blood rushed faster.
“Mother said she’d keep you away while I was busy.” The voice was almost curious, but also sort of detached, like it was curious only because it’d otherwise be bored. It flowed and coiled down the cave, magnified more than echoes alone could account for.
“We’re makin’ ourselves scarce,” Arrastra hissed. “Now.” Her tone was such that nopony questioned her. The group dispersed slightly to move more efficiently, but they stayed packed. Not quite rushing but more than walking, they made their way back down the cave.
“Well, if you’re here, I’ll need to figure out what to do with you.” Beneath their hooves, the roots of the tunnel shifted, roiling, creaking. A dozen somethings snapped like the trunk of a falling tree. In the darkness ahead of them, the glowing green eyes of a timberwolf pierced through the gloom as a growl rolled up the cave.
Another pair of eyes appeared.
Two more.
Five more.
The party stopped. Growls rippled through the cave like the grinding of a massive mill.
“I didn’t plan for this, so it might get messy if you don’t hold still.”
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Randomly check my updates, and see a chapter was posted 29 seconds ago. Fate has smiled upon me.
From Chapter 7:
I'm not sure what this means exactly but I don't like the sound of it.
Typo.
Another unique thing about Bitterroot is that she's been raised from the dead. Might that be another common factor?
Hmm... an outsider or someone who's always been hiding their wings?
Midwinter and Carnelian are mother and daughter, aren't they? This speaker sounds a little too alien to be them, but... gah. Considering all the curveballs we've been thrown, I'm starting to wonder if they were red herrings all along...
Aww, shiiiet.
Cue the music.
And they'd left behind the one individual who might have enough firepower to be an effective deterrent against woody creatures!
Here's hoping that Charcoal gets to have a badass moment coming to their rescue next chapter.
I actually said "Oh no" out loud at that.
This is not good but hopefully Bitterrot and Charcoal will be able to help since I have te impression that Charcoal already figured out that Aspen timberwolfs are connected to that cave. A burning nirik might scare the timberwolfs enabling the group to deal with them in some way.
I hope we won't have to wait long before we figure who that voice is and who the mother is she mentioned.
I think I need a map to understand the geography going on here. The valley runs north-south. Tratonmane is at the south end. So is the Doermont. This new cave is at the north end, right? I thought the river was flowing north-south, but this sounds more like it's flowing south-north...
Everyone's like, "dang... the firepony stayed outside." I'm more interested in Bitterroot staying outside. Y'know, the pony with the direct line to the Doermont.
...Charcoal and Bitterroot should be an absolutely killer team here.
And here enters player 3
Though i have a bit of a question with the river, are they following the leyline next to the river, or down the new path the river bent towards?
11938185
The river starts at the southern end of the valley and flows northward. The valley is open at the northern end, but that's after well over a day's worth of travel. The cave is in the eastern wall of the valley. The river doesn't end there; it approaches from the south, curves into the muskeg, then exits and keeps heading north.
Now that that's out of the way...
Hmm...quite strange that the alleged pegasus is an unknown to the town. My suspicion is going back to Midwinter and Carnelian. I don't remember all the details but perhaps a disguise to throw off suspicion?
...
Awwww hell.
YEP. THERE IT IS.
So that's... eight Timbermearhwolves? Not ideal! I wonder where we're going from here...
Also loving the use of a muskeg! I enjoy it when the weirdnesses of wetlands are utilised in stories beyond the Generic Swamp.
There's an awful lot of talk about Timberwolves (the wooden kind) recently, for obvious reasons, but as I recall (and reread) from earlier chapters that Midwich has been under siege for years from actual flesh and blood wolves, wolves that were far larger than they had any right to be. And Amanita autopsied a bear that she said had very unusual blood, almost thick like sap, which was killed by a Timberwolf, as if they were in conflict with the wildlife for some reason (which would logically include the killer wolves).
I suspect there is a fourth party to the Timberwolves third, and it's driving me fucking insane not knowing what that might be.
Immediately I realized what it was... In my youth the city was surrounded by places where this hapens. Less now because of climate change and engineering efforts but recent floods made water to return on top of these old bogs.
Many bodies, presumably one mind. This is several varieties of not good. There is a kirin in reserve, but depending on the cave’s ventilation, a rampaging nirik might do more harm than good. We’ll see how this goes, but I can’t imagine it’ll be pretty.