"The essence of fear is stronger than any emotion, which can inspire the body to struggle with great effort to find safety, or extinguish the will to continue a task that then seems monotonous. Regardless of the effect, the cause of fear is often what comes of it." ~Skrybe

To Fear the Fall

Pain. The dull throb, that radiates across the body, which lingers long after the event that caused it has ended. The mark of defeat, struggle, and loss, that may leave both physical evidence of its presence, as well as the mental scar that eats away at the desire of success sought by the heart and mind.

Sweetie Belle groaned lightly, shifting her body slowly. With her eyes closed, all she could hear was the crunching and shifting of leaves around her, which formed small piles as her legs pushed them into tiny clumps, revealing the slightly damp terrain beneath her. She took in a shaky breath through her nose, the scent of iron pulling her out of her lethargic state. she groaned lightly, taking in the blunt scent again, feeling her stomach churn lightly. She wrinkled her nose gently, trying to block out the foul odor, to little avail. Another inhale brought forth a small twinge from her tongue, as she tasted a strong, metallic taste.  

Her emerald eyes opened slowly, her vision blurred from the combination of the dizzy feeling that swept across her as she tried to raise her head, which quickly fell with a light thud back against the ground, and the broken streams of light, that cascaded around her form. She blinked several times, trying to focus on the area around her, desperate for some recognition as to where she may be. She let out a quiet breath, causing a few of the tiny specs of dirt and leaves to flutter away from her, landing a short distance from her face. Her hoof weakly traced the ground, her eyes watching, almost lifelessly, as she spread the cool soil out, some of which stuck lightly to her hoof, dirtying the sleek white in minute, brown speckles.

"Come on, Sweetie Belle, this will get you a cutie mark for sure!"

She shut her eyes tightly, shaking her head against the ground, as the voice echoed through her head. She grit her teeth lightly, trying to recall who had said that. What had she done? She pressed her head harder against the ground, her dual-hued, violet mane splaying across her face, as particles of dust and dirt stained the once intimately curled layers she had so carefully groomed and tended to.

"Cutie mark crusaders - tree climbers!"

Sweetie Belle's eyes went wide, as she jerked her body up, eliciting a loud grunt to pass her clenched teeth. She fell forward, landing roughly on her stomach and chest, her eyes, which had finally adjusted to the light began to tear up, clouding her vision slightly. She rolled onto her side slowly, wincing as the small branches and stones underneath her pricked at her sore ribs. She looked down her front, her eyes growing wide at the crimson smears that lay across her disheveled, white coat. She swallowed hard, a sharp pain following the trail of saliva that slid down her throat. She tried to cry out, but only managed a light squeak, as she quickly raised her right hoof to her throat. Even through her matted fur, she was able to feel the series of lacerations that scattered across her neck.

Frantically, she began parting the tuffs of fur along her neck, trying to touch her damaged skin underneath, desperate to assess how badly she was hurt. She winced again, as she felt at her skin, slowly running her hoof across her throat, feeling it move closer as it passed over the nicks. She looked around, tears forming in her eyes again. She wanted to call out, shout the names of her closest friends, of her sister, anypony who could help her, but the pain was too much for her to utter more than simple, incomprehensible squeaks.

After a few moments, she took a deep breath, her chest puffing out slightly, as she slowly rose to her hooves, stumbling a bit, before stabilizing herself by leaning against a nearby tree. For the first time, she analyzed her surroundings. Her eyes scanned across the area, landing on the spot she had woken upon. The outline of her small body was clear, even among the pile of leaves that she had pushed to the sides. The wind had picked up a bit, the first bit of relief, that brushed across her cheek, teasing her fur gently. She grunted a bit, as she steadied herself against the tree. The rough bark brushing against her coat, dirtying it further, as she felt the more jagged pieces press against her flesh. She turned her head to the side, letting out a forced breath, as her eyes ran over the landscape. She recognized the area, in fact, she wasn't far away from Ponyville. The trail that lay before her was close, if not the same one she and the other crusaders had taken before to follow and retrieve Fluttershy's chicken. Her body relaxed slightly, eyes half closing, as a small wave of relief pass over her. She groaned loudly as she pushed herself off the tree, and continued down the path.  

The sun had shifted since she had regained consciousness, the welcoming warmth and gently light of the morning had been replaced with the lingering heat of noon, the ambient hues of red replaced with blinding shades of yellow. Sweetie huffed yet again, as she took a moment to rest, whimpering as she felt pulses of pain radiating through her body from the steps she had just taken. She wondered what had happened to Scootaloo, to Apple Bloom, why she had woken up alone, it just seemed strange to her. The thoughts clouded her mind, distracting her from her surroundings. So much so, that she hadn't even heard her name being called just a short distance away from her. From her spot, the entrance of the forest was just meters away.

"Why is my throat the only place that's cut?"