How Moonstruck Got Her Groove Back

Finite Sledgehammer

Disclaimer: Hasbro's toybox, I'm just playing in it.

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Chapter 7

Moonstruck was not able to take advantage of her last night in a real bed. Sleep was elusive, and when she did manage to drift off, she was plagued by strange, shadowy dreams that she could not recall later. Her alarm went off far too soon, and before she knew it, she was dragging herself into the mess hall for a hearty breakfast.

"Sleep well?" Windwake asked, plopping down opposite her. He didn't appear to have slept much either.

"Nope." Moonstruck grunted around a bite of apple.

She noted that Windwake hadn't bothered to put any gel in his mane, and his minty green and dark teal locks were falling across one eye the way he used to wear it before he joined the academy. Even flying across Equestria he'd been impeccably groomed at all times (barring heavy rain, of course). The Academy of the Trot Royal Guard regarded the traditional pegasus stand-up mane style as a badge of honor; it was exceedingly rare to see a male guardspony without one at any time – especially those with two-toned manes like Windwake whom could trim the royal wave pattern into the outer edges of the mohawk.

"I think you may be more rattled than I am."

Windwake furrowed his brow and tilted his head to the side. She pointed a piece of carrot at his mane. He rolled his eyes upwards then ducked his head sheepishly.

"Ah ha ha, yeah. Guess I am." He closed his eyes for a few moments. "Aren't you scared?"

"Terrified." Moonstruck grunted around a spoonful of oatmeal.

He straightened up a little and scowled. "Well you could show it a little! Geeze, I feel like I'm the only one who's properly freaking out about all of this!"

Moonstruck gave him a blank stare, recalled that she'd said those exact words to her mother once, then smirked.

"Well, if it's any consolation, I'm so far beyond freaked out, and my terror runs so deep, that I can't even muster up the energy to have a proper mental breakdown."

Windwake continued to scowl at her. "That does help."

Sheriff Juniper Berry ambled over to them. "You're in luck, the rains letting off some. You should be departing in a light drizzle."

"Yaaaaaay," Moonstruck said in a small, deadpan voice.

She didn't rush to finish her breakfast; there was a high probability that she would puke soon, and she felt no need to gamble with her stomach. She had also packed everything already and had her saddlebags sitting under the table at her hooves, so she did not need to return to her room to get them.

It was indeed drizzling when she, Windwake and the sheriff stepped outside. Only a few officers were around, mostly going about their usual business. It would be another fanfareless exit, she sensed. It was probably for the better.

They made their way out of the fenced in garden/staging area of the outpost through a tall gate and Moonstruck was finally able to get a clear view of her surroundings. Well, clear-ish; it was still drizzling, and the cloud cover was low enough that it blocked most of the upper reaches of the Broken range from view. The outpost was situated on top of a long, low hill that swept at a shallow angle back towards the lowlands. The north side of the hill seemed to drop off more abruptly into a small, shallow vale. It was towards this vale that they walked. The grass, she was relieved to note, was green and vibrant, and most of the hills she could see were in a similar state of new spring growth. She shouldn't have any trouble foraging for food.

The Sheriff nodded to a pair of fence posts spaced a couple of lengths apart along the ridge, where a cloaked and hooded pony was waiting for them. "Doctor Amber Glen will tell you how to get the best start - there's a trick to it."

"Right." Moonstruck nodded, eyes flicking over the hooded figure, then to the shallow valley below. The fence posts were the start of a wide trail that zigzagged down the steep incline to a pair of standing stones at the base of the hill.

"Ah, we meet again, Princess Moonstruck. Well met." Doctor Amber Glen said, as they approached. He bowed deeply.

"Mornin'." Moonstruck yawned. "Sorry to bust in on you yesterday, thought I might be on to something."

"I-it's quite alright." He straightened up. "When I received the request to instruct somepony how to enter the foothills, I assumed it would be you, and much of your behavior made more sense."

"Did she just barge in and start asking weird questions?" Windwake - mane now properly gelled if a bit saggy in the drizzle - asked wryly.

"Er, yes." The Doctor said.

"She does that."

"Ahem, gentlecolts?" The sheriff cleared her throat and eyed them. "She does need to get moving."

"Right." Doctor Amber stamped a hoof. "This is essentially a stable point in an otherwise unpredictable landscape." He gestured to the fence posts, rock lined trail, and standing stones. "For reasons unknown, anypony who comes and goes from this point will generally be able to travel a decent distance and not get terribly lost until they go deep into the foothills. Additionally, when they do ultimately give up and turn back, they will return to this point, even if they are not actively trying to get back to this particular spot."

He shifted his weight. "Once past the standing stones, you must travel straight across the vale by hoof. There is no trail past the standing stones - those stones are the last point that ponies have been able to build anything of any sort of permanence. Beyond that, nothing remains. At least, nothing modern. You will encounter occasional ghost towns and ruins."

He frowned and worked his jaw around a little. "They are unmappable, so I cannot tell you which ones to avoid. Some are safe to pass through - even camp in - others are not."

"As I said, proceed straight across the vale and straight up the other side. Do not look back, and do not fly. Once there, you will encounter two naturally occurring standing stones. Pass between them, and be prepared for a drastically different landscape."

"You cannot fly for the first three days, it will simply push you back out faster than if you're on hoof for that time. We do not know why."

Moonstruck nodded, staring into the distance.

"I am afraid that is all I can tell you. These are the only constants."

"Goodie." Moonstruck muttered. She shook her head, and looked back at the sheriff and Windwake. The look on Windwake's face almost made her turn around and run back inside, but she resisted. Barely.

"Well, guess I should get going."

"Best of luck to you." Doctor Amber Glen said, stepping aside.

"Good luck, and safe travels." Sheriff Juniper Berry dipped her head respectfully.

Windwake stepped over and hugged her tightly, which was kind of awkward considering they were both quadrupeds. "Come back safe, okay?" He whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah." Moonstruck grunted, patting him on the back with one free wing. "I think you still owe me a game of Gin-Rummy-Smackdown. Can't let you off easy on that one."

He let out a short, broken laugh, then took a step back, looking away. "Yeah, can't do that."

Moonstruck turned her back to them and stared down the trail, then up at the looming overcast, and what seemed an impossibly long chain of hills stretching, and rising away into the distance. For a while she couldn't coax herself to take that first step. She sighed, closed her eyes, lowered her head, then willed her front right hoof to move, lifting it slowly off the sodden ground, then placing it roughly down. Next was her rear left leg, then left front, then right rear. After she had gone a few trembling steps, she opened her eyes, and started shakily down the steep trail.

Everything changed when she rounded the first switchback; not physically, not exactly, but she could feel it; feel the magic flicker faintly, feel the very earth itself take on a different sort of rhythm. It was very quiet, now that she was paying attention. No birds sang, no deer were grazing down in the lush vale below, no rodents scurried out of her way as she passed. It had felt like she'd entered another world entirely by the time she reached the standing stones. She half turned to look back the way she'd come, was relieved to see three figures at the top of the hill watching her. This, she knew, would be the last she saw of them for some time.

Turning forward, she stared between the roughly hewn stones, let out a long, shaky breath, then stepped between them. Past them. Out into the fresh spring grass and scattered early season wildflowers. Unable to take the stillness, she started out at a brisk trot, listening to the faint clinking of the metal bits of her gear in her packs, the slightly soggy clip clop of her hooves on the ground, the grass whispering past her legs, and the beating of her own heart.

It took her about thirty minutes to cross the vale, and ten to climb the hill on the opposite side. It hadn't seemed that far from the outpost, nor as rocky and steep. As promised, there was another set of standing stones at the crest of the hill among a tangle of imposing thorn bushes.

Moonstruck resisted the urge to look back and inspected the stones instead. They were rather unremarkable; nothing seemed out of the ordinary with them, they just happened to be a little over an average ponies width apart. They weren't even particularly tall. There also didn't seem to be anything of interest beyond the stones; just a faint animal trail winding through the shrubs and prickly bushes. Shrugging, she cautiously stepped between them, then out the other side, where her stomach dropped, and she stumbled onto level ground, even though it felt like she'd just missed a stair at the bottom of a long staircase.

It was snowing softly, the grass was brown, there was old snow lurking in shady patches, and the landscape was packed with dense shrubs and scraggly trees. Moonstruck whipped around to look back between the standing stones (since, presumably it was safe to do that now), but the space beyond the stones appeared to be the same as the one she was standing in.

"Well, that's disorienting," she muttered. At least here it wasn't so silent, there was soft birdsong coming from many of the bushes, and faint rustlings of things in the underbrush. There was no trail to speak of, but the ceiling was high enough that she could see the higher peaks beneath the clouds. They didn't seem any closer than they had before, although she suspected she had gained some altitude.

Moonstruck started picking her way through the underbrush towards the Broken Mountains. She did not have a plan to speak of, beyond making a bee-line towards the highest parts of the range. If the landscape liked to rearrange itself at will, there was no point in trying to find passes, or even trails - although she would happily take a trail if it seemed to lead to where she wanted to go.

At first, the non-plan seemed to work. She made her way through the scrublands without incident, and descended into a deep, sheltered gorge - where it was more springlike - shortly before nightfall. There, she set up camp, refilled her canteens, and ate a slightly heartier version of lunch that consisted of half of a slice of travel bread, a little dried fruit, and various greens she was able to rustle up in the general vicinity.

"Well," she said to herself after the evening chores were done and she was sitting next to the fire snuggled up under a blanket, and her cloak on top of that to protect against the drizzle and occasional snowflake. "One day down. Who knows how many left."

She tilted her head back to squint at the gloom lurking overhead that was blocking the stars. Her mother had taught her to navigate by the stars when she was a tiny little filly, but she sensed that would not be useful here. At least Breezy's ability to light a fire anywhere with pretty much anything seemed to have rubbed off on her a little - most of the deadfall she'd found had been damp, but she'd been able to get a fire going with little difficulty.

Now that she thought about it, she was starting to regret tuning Patch out whenever she started prattling on about birds. Patch was an avid birdwatcher - that would probably be useful out here. And Windwake had always been the dumbest forager ever, and had tried pretty much every wild berry that grew in Trot, so he'd have a half decent idea of what was edible and what wasn't - or at least the guts to sample one and find out. And Acorn knew everything there was to know about plants and mushrooms so he'd be able to find food in the darnedest places, and... and...

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, a few tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"I shoulda insisted on bringing Breezy and Patch and Windwake."

Her brother would have been useful, but he was a little young to be embarking on a very dangerous quest.

The precipitation began to pick up, shifting into rain with a little snow mixed in. Moonstruck sniffled, then retreated into her tent. Once inside, she wiped a few more tears away, folded up her cloak and placed it in the corner near the flap, then climbed into her bed roll. It was going to be a long, cold night.

---

The three day no-fly-timeframe rolled by slowly, although Moonstruck was confident that she was making some decent progress, insomuch that she had not yet been sent in circles. The morning of the fourth day she waited for the weather to clear a bit before taking to the air. She resisted the urge to fly high, choosing instead to cruise along only three hundred feet above the landscape. This seemed to work for a while, but sudden winds would force her higher, or lower, or off course, and by the end of the day she'd spent more time fighting the wind than anything else.

The next day she decided to only fly when she reached something that she could not climb easily, or go around without veering far off course. She soon found herself in a rather vexing stretch of steep, rocky hills with few sources for water, and little green vegetation. While it was not as cold here as it had been elsewhere, not much was growing in this area yet. Thankfully the rain had stopped, and the skies were clear, so she had a perfect view of the higher mountains that did not seem any closer than they had before, even though she was five and a half days out from Stirrup Springs.

Moonstruck came to rest on a knob of granite and contemplated her next move. She had been back and forth across the general vicinity several times, but she had not found a good way through this particular stretch of hills. Winds were strong out of the north (where she wanted to go), and at higher altitudes; the going was tedious on the ground, and it was getting late. She stared at her elongated shadow, then scanned the ridge directly in front of her. She had not tried teleporting yet - she was hesitant to do so, considering all of the distortion out here, and this area in particular seemed to have a lot of magical noise, not unlike static on a radio broadcast. She squinted at another spire of rock about a hundred yards away.

"That should work." She muttered. She stood up, lowered her head, fixed her gaze on the spot she wanted to teleport to, and cast her spell.

A split second later, she stood on the other spire of rock, intact, and unharmed. She grinned and turned around. She wasn't sure how far she could get like this, but it was certainly worth a shot. Spotting another good place to teleport to, she repeated the process. It worked again, but now she could feel a distinct sort of magical something building up around her. Her ears popped a couple of times, as she swept her gaze around her, searching for any sign of attack, or even a sudden thunderstorm. Deciding to err on the side of caution, she sprang off the boulder she was on, landed a little roughly on the ground below, and trotted across the ridge to a less steep area where she could climb down more easily. The foothills were riddled with little river canyons and shallow gorges where the foraging was generally better, so she'd been camping in them whenever possible. The sun was low enough in the western sky to start searching for a suitable place to camp, and this little river valley seemed to be as good a place as any.

The climb down to the valley floor was fairly easy, and there was indeed more palatable vegetation growing around a babbling brook. There were a number of scraggly looking trees growing in the more open spaces, and a lot of old stumps and mounds that indicated that the logs were still present under a layer of dirt, rocks, and moss. She wondered if a flood had swept through here at some point and felled the trees; but the stumps, and their logs were broken off as if something from downstream had, in fact, blown them all down. Probably all at once.

She tried to remember if the area was volcanic as she hopped from boulder to boulder to cross the creek, and head up the other side of the ravine a short way to investigate what she thought was a shallow cave sitting up above the bulk of the flood lines. Judging by the wear of the rock, the river hadn't flooded to that level in some time, and going by the depth of the canyon now, it wouldn't do it again. There was an almost trail to the possible-cave - as if something at some point might have used it for shelter, but had long since moved on to less confusing real estate. Moonstruck hopped up onto a wide, flat rock just below the opening and grinned. It was indeed a shallow cave; perhaps only a few yards long, and deep, and a couple yards high. It had some decent fern growth sprouting from the ceiling, and a sandy floor that didn't look like it had been disturbed in some time. This was probably the best place she'd found to camp thus far.

She quickly set up her tent towards the back of the cave, then dug a fire pit and lined it with a few river stones that were conveniently near by. From there she climbed back down to the ravine floor to collect firewood, and edible plants for dinner.

As she scrounged around, she took note that there were very few signs of animals. Most of the foothills had been all but devoid of animal life; she had found very few trackways, and only directly observed a limited array of small birds and rodents. She attributed this in part due to the fairly recent arrival of spring, and all of the magical distortion making it difficult to navigate, but it was still unsettling to be the only large(ish) creature in the region. Where were the deer? The mountain sheep and goats? The wolves and lynx, and turkeys, and rabbits, and hawks and crows, and vultures and anything else one typically found in regions like this?

Now that she thought about it, she hadn't noticed any fish in any of the waterways she'd encountered - again, it was early in the season, but something had to be active. She paused to stare into the creek she happened to be standing by, watching just below the waters surface. There had to be some trout in there somewhere. After a full minute, she sighed dramatically.

"Fine! Be like that! Not like there's any bugs around for you to eat anyway."

She continued on her quest for firewood and food, taking note of the position of the sun and estimating she had an hour or so until sunset. Without the cloud cover it had been consistently warmer during the day, but considerably colder at night. It had also allowed her to gauge her position via the stars, but she was dismayed to note that everything her mother taught her was mostly useless out here. No matter where she seemed to go, the stars always managed to stay in the same position.

She picked up one final well aged, thick branch for her fire, and scowled. "Maybe I should try traveling at night. It's cold though. And even frostier aloft than it is on the ground."

She started back to her tent. "Plus, the only landmark I can rely on is the mountains in the distance, if the stars are wrong, I might just end up back at Stirrup Springs."

She scrunched up her face. "When did I start talking to myself out loud?"

She looked around, flicking one ear to the side. "No really! I never did this before, did I? I mean, I probably did a little. Everyone does a little, I think."

She started up the almost-trail to her little cave. "No one mentioned going insane on this trip. I mean, I guess it goes without saying, since I'm out here by myself for goodness knows how long. Just out wandering around a maddening lan – HA!"

She reached the cave and set the firewood down next to the fire pit, and the food down on her saddlebags.

"These aren't the Broken Mountains, these are the Mountains of Madness!"

She chuckled to herself, then launched a small spark at the dry wood, setting it ablaze. Once she was sure the fire wouldn't flicker out, she inspected her leafy greens, and what dried fruit and bread she had left. She'd been eating one slice of the bread a day - half with breakfast, and half with dinner. It was fairly innocuous looking, but was loaded with ground nuts, and grains that provided a decent amount of nutrients, and a little bit of sugar and salt. She'd be out of it in a week, at this rate. She frowned.

"Maybe I should go down to a quarter for breakfast, and half for dinner?"

She foraged for greens for every meal, so it shouldn't be too bad, but the more nutritious plants hadn't started sprouting yet, for the most part, so the bread was important. She could just spend more time foraging; munch more on whatever she happened across as she happened across it. She shook her head and broke a slice of the bread - which was really more like a plain, unfilled Poptart - in half and started munching on it as she eyed her tiny pile of dried fruit. She was down to four dried apricots, and six dehydrated apples. She'd been eating those sparingly - mostly at breakfast, when a little something sweet helped to wake her up.

"May as well just keep that up." She sighed, placing them back in their container, then back in the saddlebag. She'd known those wouldn't last long, she just hadn't expected to be running low on food so quickly. And she hadn't made any real progress. The higher peaks were still days away on hoof, and unreachable by flight. She was starting to wonder if there were even really mountains over there, if maybe it was all just some strange optical illusion and that it was simply a matter of wandering into the right valley to reach Roanamia. Or perhaps it was one of those places that couldn't be found, except for by those who already know where it is. She hoped it wasn't one of those places.

---

"Hey, wait up!"

"Arbor Fern! We can't keep up when you go that fast."

"Sorry! Sorry! Mom and Dad must be worried sick by now! And keep it down, we don't want to start an avalanche."

"Pff, we can't start an avalanche! There's not enough snow!"

"You can't fool us!"

"We're big foals now, you can't use that trick anymore!"

"Still just... just keep it down. Something's not right."

Moonstruck twitched and curled tighter, aware on some primal level that it was very cold outside her tent and blankets, and that she would be wise to continue sleeping. Something even deeper, and older was poking her in the back of the head though, keeping her from slipping fully back to sleep. Something that was more on the ball, something that was constantly aware of her surroundings; particularly at times when something was terribly amiss with her surroundings.

"What's not right?"

"I don't know. I just... just humor me, okay?"

"Okaaaaaaayyyy."

Moonstruck scowled. Would those kids shut up already? It was too darn early in the morning for them to be out and about. And from the sounds of it they were awful young - where were their parents? What were they doing out here by themselves, anyway?

Out here. She woke up a little more, eyebrows making a casual saunter towards her mane. Out here in the middle of freaking nowhere, where nopony lived, and everything was confusing as heck... she opened her eyes and shot her head up, ears fixed on the fading voices of the foals as they made their way through the canyon. They were past her cave at this point, quietly crunching through the snow - snow?

Moonstruck wriggled out of her bedroll and unzipped her tent. A blast of icy air greeted her, causing her to blink rapidly and shake her head before pushing it cautiously out of the partially opened flap. It had snowed all right; a good six inches, and it was still coming down steadily. There were tracks down by the creek bed, winding among the trees and rocks and... hold up the trees were back? The big ones that had appeared to have fallen long ago were now standing proudly, their boughs heavy with snow. There was still a distinct lack of birdsong, however. The quiet was deeper somehow, more profound, which made the sounds of three foals crunching through the snow jarringly loud.

"How long was I asleep?" She muttered to herself, breath frosting. It was just after dawn, as near as she could tell. She squinted along the tracks, and listened for the foals. If there were foals here, there had to be a village nearby.

Making up her mind, she hastily broke camp, magicking everything but her cloak, and a flannel vest she'd brought with her into her saddle bags. She was mildly surprised when she pulled her vest on to find it a little too big. All of this questing seemed to have slimmed her down a bit. Shrugging, she pulled on her saddlebags, then cloak, and darted down the almost-trail to the tracks in the snow. Sure enough, there were three sets of small pony tracks, one a little larger than the others. They were headed downstream. She trotted along the trackway, head up, and ears twitching this way and that, alert to any other surprises. She was sure the foals were just up ahead, out of sight through the trees, but she couldn't seem to catch up with them, and she was reluctant to fly - this place reacted so strangely to flying ponies, and this day was already off to a weird start.

The canyon walls became less steep, and grew further apart as the trees grew taller and closer together. The trail veered off to the side, leaving the creek, and forest behind to cut across a large, flat plain that sloped gently into the distance. Moonstruck couldn't see where the tracks led, it was snowing very heavily now, and the wind was strong out in the open. She put her head down and plowed through the deeper snow, wondering how the foals managed to get so far so fast when the snow must be up to their bellies out here. She could hear them faintly under the wind; three sets of crunching hooves, and the occasional snippet of conversation. She also wondered if they knew where they were going. It wasn't quite a white void; distant trees and the occasional bush could be seen, and whenever the wind shifted she caught a glimpse of hills in the near distance that seemed to indicate they were descending into a valley. It hadn't looked like this from the air yesterday; the canyon had meandered around quite a bit without opening up into any large, nearly level areas. In fact, this whole section of foothills had been quite rugged, and rather more vertical than horizontal last she saw.

She slid to a stop as the foals materialized out of the driving snow. One was a little taller and presumably older than the others. They were bundled up in coats, and snow boots. They had paused, it seemed, to get their bearings. Then they were gone again, fading into the storm at a dead run. Moonstruck cursed under her breath and picked up speed, wondering if shouting at them would get their attention, but she was downwind, and the storm was loud enough that she doubted her voice would carry. When she reached the point where they had stopped, she froze. The ground took a steep drop here, and there was a village in the valley below. Although the snow was distorting things, it appeared to be in ruins. Cursing more vehemently, Moonstruck galloped after the foals, hoping to catch up with them before they reached their village.

Again they proved amazingly fast for their size, and the current conditions. They were down the hill and to the edge of the village just as Moonstruck caught up with them.

"Hey! Hey kids hold up! It might be dangerous!"

The foals didn't seem to have heard her. They exchanged glances.

"You two wait here, I'll go check it out." The older one said.

"We're coming with you!" The two younger said in unison. They were twins.

"It might be dangerous!" The older insisted.

"You're not that much older than us, yanno!" The twins huffed. "We'll watch your back!"

"Grrr, fine! Stay close! And be quiet!" The older one hissed. She started cautiously into the village, her younger siblings huddling close to one another just behind her.

"Hey! Whoa, all three of you need to wait here! Hey!" Moonstruck panted, trotting up beside them. "Hey, can you hear me, or what!?"

She lifted a foreleg and nudged the older one. Or, tried to, her hoof passed right through the filly, who didn't seem to notice a thing.

Moonstruck jumped back, eyes wide, a chill creeping down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather. They had told her she might encounter ghost towns. She didn't think they'd contain actual ghosts. Not ghosts, she corrected herself, shaking her head, echoes. This is something that had happened eons ago and was still replaying here, just like Sarahs impossible escape from the airship continued to be seen from Stirrup Springs for weeks after it happened. The fillies continued their cautious trek down the main street of the tiny village, heads held low, eyes darting back and forth nervously. Moonstruck swallowed hard and looked around, noting that the village had been freshly razed, from the looks of it, although none of the rubble was still smoking. About half of the buildings were intact, but all of the windows had been blown out. If there had been any survivors, they were long gone. She absently followed the fillies, wondering what, if anything, she should do.

"Arbor Fern, where's Mom and Dad?" One of the twins whimpered. "Shouldn't they be here?"

"I don't know." The older foal said. "I don't hear anypony..."

"MOOOOOMY!? DAAADY!?" The other twin shouted, tears streaming down her face. "UNCLE CLOUDSTOP!?"

"SHHHH!" Arbor Fern hissed.

"Why!? No one is here!" The first twin barked, stomping a hoof. She was crying too. "We're the only ponies here! We can scream all we want and no one will... no one will..." She broke into sobs, and sat down. Her twin sister joined her. Arbor Fern started to cry too, but shook her head violently and pawed at the ground instead.

"We need to keep it together. Everypony probably hid out in the hills like us when the lights started! We just, we just have to go find them!"

Lights? Moonstruck wondered, looking around, feeling awkward. She knew this had happened long ago, and the fillies weren't really here in the same way she was, but she still felt strange to not comfort a crying foal. She looked down for a moment, staring at her hooves. A snowflake hit her square in the eye. She jerked her head back and shook it, then glared into the storm. The wind had died down a little since they entered the village, but it was still gusting strongly. She shivered and danced in place, wishing she had boots, and a heavier vest.

"Wait, if this is something that happened eons ago, is this a ghost storm? Should I even be cold?" She asked out loud. She looked back at the fillies and noted that they were also being effected by the snow - which made sense for them, but not for her. She scowled and looked down, took note that she was leaving tracks in the snow just as they were.

"Argh! This is so weird!" She grumbled, sauntering over and kicking a fence post. Surprisingly, it reacted to her kick and broke off just above the ground. She glanced back to see if the fillies had noticed. They didn't seem to, were still crying. Raising a brow, Moonstruck made a snowball and threw it at them. It passed harmlessly through them.

"Maybe they are ghosts." She muttered. "And the place is just stuck like this." And it was inexplicably the dead of winter, and she had no idea which way to go from here.

"C-c'mon, lets get moving, no use crying here in the snow." The older filly sniffled, she nudged her sisters to their hooves and started to walk further into town. Moonstruck turned and walked past them, back the way they had come. With luck she'd at least be able to find her way back to the creek, and her little cave, where - maybe - another night spent there would magically transport her back to the rugged foothills she'd been in yesterday. She made it all of ten steps when a blood curdling scream split the air. Moonstruck whipped around to see that it was one of the younger fillies that was emitting the horrified shriek; she was staring up at the sky in abject terror. Moonstruck looked up as well and felt her blood run cold.

There was a crack in the sky. Not a break in the clouds but a jagged crack, like ice, like a mirror. As she watched, it expanded, stretching across the sky as far as the eye could see, then splintering off into smaller cracks that crawled in delicate spidery lines from horizon to horizon. It stopped snowing, and the clouds began to churn even as a strange stillness settled over the crushed village. All three of the fillies were screaming now, and Moonstruck was surprised she wasn't screaming with them.

Below their high pitched keening was a deep, rumble - more felt than heard - and it was coming from everywhere. Deep beneath the earth, the sky, the very air, it seemed was trembling, shifting, pushing against itself in impossible ways. The biggest crack jerked suddenly, part of the sky pushing towards the ground, leaving a strange glowing shelf along the exposed edge that Moonstruck could feel resonating deep in her bones.

The fillies had had enough, it seemed; they bolted into one of the buildings to hide, leaving Moonstruck alone in the street to witness the world ending. Bits of sky started to flake away from the cracks, falling through the air, but never hitting the ground, which was shaking steadily now, heaving in violent spasms. Moonstruck stumbled back, away from where the sky was starting to glow, and the wind heaved back to life, blowing in every direction at once.

There was a truly magnificent pressure on her skull that was not unlike the strange arcane pressure that was building up around her when she was experimenting with teleporting yesterday. It did not hurt, but it was nearly maddening - she almost wished it would hurt. Blinding pain would actually be a strange relief. She shook her head, and continued to back away from the broken sky and ground, quite convinced that there was no point in running, much less trying to fly away. Everything was coming apart now; there were strange facets in the sky, traveling along fault lines and reflecting the wan morning light in faintly octarine tones in a haphazard pattern of magical distortion. A beam of intense purple light shot down from the main crack and blasted a hole in the ground which caused a shock wave powerful enough to send her flying. Moonstruck fluttered her wings in a vain attempt to get airborne, only managing to right herself just in time to crash into the ground. She tumbled for several yards before coming to a stop at the edge of town.

Then she started sliding backwards. She looked back to see everything being sucked into the beam of light, which was also pushing the ground downwards as if it was some sort of gelatinous substance. She scrambled to her hooves and started running, but she could barely find purchase on the warped and breaking cobblestones. Flapping her wings did nothing, and she knew better than to teleport while magic was this wild and unpredictable. The ground tilted upwards, shaking her loose so that she was falling back into the beam of light, as if it had a gravity all its own. Moontsruck fought back panic, and managed to summon up a basic shield spell a few moments before she collided with the light.

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A/N: Octarine would be the color of magic on Discworld by Terry Pratchett. I tend to borrow it for all magical things. Because it's awesome.