Five hours.

Five hours I'd spent looking for the highway, then for an access road, than for any sign of civilization. Five hours I'd spent in an increasingly-wide search pattern, doing my absolute best to keep my bearings so that I could make it back to the car if I needed to.

All I'd found in those five hours was trees, plants, a marsh and more trees. One of those trees had been sturdy enough to climb to a fair height, giving me a view above at least the local area; from that vantage point I could see a number of things that only added to my growing sense of unease- a solitary mountain in the distance, mostly blocked from my view by a rise in the treeline; more forest to the east and south; a clearing barely visible to the north... and not a single trace of the Interstate, any roads, buildings or homes, cell phone towers, power lines, or even aircraft contrails. My phone hadn't picked up a connection, either, despite the amount of ground I'd covered.

It was well into the afternoon when I'd gotten back to the car, and my rapidly-beating heart and weak-feeling knees had very little to do with the walk. Even though I hadn't eaten in more than half a day, my appetite was quelled by a sick feeling of fear. As much as I wanted to rationalize the situation as me just being exceptionally unlucky in trying to find the highway, the logical part of my brain knew deep down that something was extremely wrong. To say “stay calm” was my mantra the entire trip back wouldn't be a lie in the least.

Unfortunately, my sanity was the victim of yet another affront when I approached my car.

“What the fuck was a goat doing climbing on my car?!”

Never mind that there shouldn't have been any wild goats around here at all, let alone the small herd that had apparently decided to mill around my car and watch one of their number treat the vehicle like a jungle gym, judging by the muddy hoofprints left on the hood and trunk as well as in the mud around my impromptu parking spot. Well, at least they didn't stick around to try to eat me, I thought wryly. Thank God I didn't run into any more of those bizarre wolves... or whatever that was I heard growling earlier. A bear, maybe? Shit, glad I'm at least packing .40 instead of nine-millimeter.

I realized I was taking far more psychological comfort in being armed than was healthy, but I couldn't really help it... with the situation getting less and less understandable seemingly by the minute, having any sort of power on my side was a balm for my worried mind. Still, I resolved to keep my firearms-safety training foremost in my mind. Okay, Pete, I told myself. Cool, calm and collected. You've still got a fair amount of daylight left, so grab some stuff out of your baggage just in case and get back to following your tire tracks. They didn't move the Interstate on you, so it's just a matter of working backwards from the way you came in... and not getting ambushed by anything along the way.

My baggage only had one clean change of clothes left, along with the two sets I'd worn during my trip; I put the clean stuff in the messenger bag, then debated getting changed- and decided against it- before loading the last five rounds from the ammunition box into my loaded magazine to top it off again. I also took my music player along with its earbuds, a three-quarters-full bottle of water from the cupholder, and a small flashlight, pen and notepad from the glovebox; I wrote out a quick note with my name and address and what had happened, then tucked it under the windshield on the off-chance that someone happened by. Once I felt suitably supplied for what might be a half-day's walk, I closed the trunk and door once more, made sure everything was locked up, and took a quick look around.

Something's not right, I realized.

It took me a couple minutes to sort out what my brain was screaming at me to realize, and it was a number of things that didn't add up. One, the branches and leaves that the “wolves” had left were gone; two, it seemed that my spent brass had vanished along with them; three, the goat tracks showed a definite path into the area, wandered around my car for a bit, then led towards a spot a short distance away... and stopped. There was no sign that the no-doubt fair-sized herd of animals had walked back out of the clearing.

So, great, my brain decided. A bunch of goats came to play with my car, ate up all the leaves and my casings, and then... ascended to goat heaven? You know what... I cannot be bothered to give a fraction of a fuck. I'm leaving.

I didn't dare put in the music player's earbuds in while there was the possibility of wild animals on the prowl, so it was a quiet and lonely walk through the clearing and back into the woods, still littered with the tree limbs and branches I'd knocked down during my entrance. I gingerly stepped over a fairly large limb that probably would've done a great job of smashing the roof in had it hit the car, stepped around a sapling that was more matchsticks than solid tree, then followed the tire tracks around a ridiculously thick tree trunk....

...and reached the end of the tracks.

There was nothing in any direction but more woods, not a single sound but the wind and various animal calls. I couldn't see the Interstate, I couldn't hear a single car, I couldn't even smell sun-baked blacktop. There wasn't even a discarded fast-food wrapper or any other kind of litter.

...somebody fucking moved the Interstate on me.

My mind ran itself in loops for what seemed to be forever, my feet automatically moving me forward as though my brain hoped to simply stumble over some sign of civilization. My gun was still in hand, but if I'd been attacked by anything at that moment I doubt I could've managed the mental coherence to actually defend myself. This couldn't be happening; it defied all sense, all logic, that I could have ended up so far away from the highway, to have landed in the middle of these thick woods where I'd already encountered creatures that were completely impossible. The fear that this all was only happening in my head struck... but I discarded it, at least for the time being- without any frame of reference or objective viewpoint, how could I even know?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even register what was in front of me until my foot hit packed dirt.

A trail!

Immediately, and with a focus that bordered on the monomanaiacal, I began jogging along the path. Paths lead places, I told myself, allowing a wave of relief to overcome me. Doesn't matter where this goes, even if it's some campsite or outhouse- at one end or the other, there'll be civilization.

I wasn't sure how long I was walking, following the path over a beautifully-carved and strangely narrow bridge that spanned a thin stream, but my hope was starting to fade along with the daylight as I realized evening wasn't far off. Even if I could find a straight path back to my car, it was unlikely that I'd reach it before night fell- and blundering around in the woods in the darkness was as sure a recipe for disaster as I could imagine. I could only hope I'd hit a cabin, or friendly campers... hell, at that point I'd have holed up in that outhouse I imagined earlier.

It was starting to get difficult to see any real distance when I finally made it to the end of the path. There were several small tents there, seemingly empty, and a large wooden wagon set off towards the rear of this new clearing; past it I could see a much broader dirt road. I hit some kind of pioneer exhibit or something, I mused, gazing at the rustic-looking wagon.

There was a strange snap, and the fire pit in the middle of the campsite lit up, half-blinding me for a moment; as I raised my hand to block the light, I caught sight of a shape by the fire, that let out a sharp gasp and fled before I could get my eyes to adjust. “Hey, wait!” I called out. “I'm lost and need help. Do you have a working phone? Hello?”

Nothing happened for several seconds, as I stood there, waiting for a response. Then there was a rustle off to my left, and I turned to find a bizarre sight- what looked like a large dog or a miniature horse, its proportions and coloration made to look unnatural in the flickering firelight, watching me with a pair of eyes that looked much too large for its size. Next to it swung a long, white object, hovering in the air as though an invisible hand held its end; as I watched in stunned confusion, the object spun faster, then snapped back, flinging something small and grey straight towards my forehead.

(-)

“We have the perimeter secured, Princess Twilight.”

Twilight smiled at the Guard. “Thank you, Sergeant,” she replied. “That was quick. Please inform me of any unusual sightings as soon as you can.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” The stallion trotted off; next to Twilight, Applejack let out a chuckle. “Still can't get them to call ya just by yer name, eh, Twi?” she asked.

“I've known Sergeant Mist since I was a filly. He never had a problem calling me 'Twilight' before my ascension.” The alicorn sighed. “Sometimes I wonder how Cadance ever learned to put up with all the formality,” she murmured, before raising her head. “Well, time to get to work. Applejack, would you help get plaster casts of all these unusual tracks?”

“Can do.” There were a couple of unicorns already working on the task, but they welcomed Applejack's help readily enough. An hour of uneventful work followed, pouring plaster into whatever strange prints were left in the mud and having the unicorns quick-dry it, then carefully removing the casts. Something caught her eye, though, and she stopped the rest of her crew from filling in the print closest to the strange vehicle. “Hang on, fellahs,” she said, staring at the track. “Somethin' ain't right here....”

“What's wrong, Miss Applejack?” one of the unicorns- Star something-or-other; Applejack was never very good with names- asked.

“This print... it's on top of the tracks the girls an' I made when we first got here. Whatever this is came back while we was gone!”

“Why... you're right! We should alert Princess Twilight to this at once.”

“Don't you worry none; I'll handle that.” She turned her head towards the strange carriage. “Hey, Twi!” she belted out. “C'mere, y' gotta see this!”

For some reason both of her assistants were wincing and rubbing their ears. Heh- unicorns, so delicate sometimes, she thought with an inward chuckle.

After a few moments, Twilight flapped over. “Is this important, AJ?” she asked with the barest trace of a frown. “We've hit a treasure trove- all sorts of literature in a small compartment in the front of the cabin! Some strange garments, too, and Rarity is having a fit trying to figure out what they are-”

“Yeah, sorry t' interrupt yer discoveries, Twi, but this is something y' oughta know about.” Applejack pointed down at the ground. “Y'know them weird tracks? This one got made after we left earlier.”

Twilight gasped, actually falling out of the air and landing on all four hooves in shock. “It came back!” she exclaimed. “And we missed it! Oh goodness, how long ago could this have been? Not more than four hours, surely! Maybe... maybe we can track it!” She lowered her head to point at the imprint, and her horn glowed; a purple beam of energy struck the strange track, and vanished. Twilight stared intently at it for a moment, her expression going from excitement to confusion to disappointment. “...why isn't it working?!” she wondered.

“Why isn't what workin', Twi?”

“My 'Retrace Your Steps' spell. I developed it after Dinky Hooves got lost last summer, remember? It comprehensively examines the latent magical field left behind by whatever creature leaves a track and marks the path it took. Usually the thaumatic trail dissipates within half a day, but we weren't gone nearly that long!”

As usual, the technical explanation went right over Applejack's head, but she'd been there the first time the spell had been used and at least understood the basics. “So, um, what if whatever it is doesn't leave one'a them tau-matic trails?” she asked.

“That's impossible. Even creatures that don't actively use magic themselves leave a faint trail- they absorb the ambient magic around them, and then exude it, filtered through their own aura, leaving a unique signature of sorts. This spell should be able to track me, you, the timberwolves or Winona.”

“Huh.” Applejack stared down at the track again. “I don't rightly know, Twi. But there's more 'n one way t' buck this tree. Obviously this critter, whatever it is, leaves prints in th' ground... an' there's a chance we can track it that way.”

“...that's true.” Twilight chuckled. “I can always depend on you to keep me down-to-earth, Applejack.”

“It's an earth pony specialty.” She grinned. “So what's yer plan?”

“Let me wrap up what I'm doing here and delegate what I want done, then you and I can go with a couple of the guards and see if we can catch up to our friend here.”

The task was easier said than done, however. Oh, it wasn't difficult at all at first; the creature they were tracking was obviously following along the trail left by the strange carriage, until they came to the end- or rather the beginning- of the deep ruts. The tracks milled around a bit, then seemed to wander off, moving erratically for a while. Night was close to falling by the time they'd reached a path; Applejack could easily enough tell which way the trail went by the muddy prints left behind, and Twilight left a magical marker before teleporting them back to the clearing to call it a night.

It was just past dawn the next morning when the group returned to work, and Twilight, Applejack and their two guards teleported back to where they'd last left the trail. Thankfully there hadn't been any rain to wash away the creature's tracks, and it was a much easier matter to follow the trail to the edge of the forest, where a small clearing was met by a dirt road. Applejack knew that, while most ponies avoided the Everfree whenever possible, some made a living at its outskirts. “This looks like somepony was campin' last night,” she said, “more'n a few as well, judgin' by the signs. Had tents and mebbe a wagon. Y'think our friend was a part of their group, got lost or somethin' and came back?”

“I'm... not so sure of that,” came the reply; Applejack returned to her friend's side. “Look here,” Twilight said. “The tracks stop here... then there are drag marks and hoofprints.”

“Um... so our friend fell down or somethin'?”

“In a manner of speaking. I found this next to where the drag marks start.” She levitated up a small, round stone with a red splotch on one side.

Applejack frowned. “Is that what I think it is on that there rock?”

“I believe so.” Twilight peered closely at the stone. “It's blood.”