Rarity galloped swiftly through the Everfree Forest, jumping over large exposed roots like they were rodeo hurdles. Her dirty hooves splashed into the countless muddy puddles littering the ground, spraying bits of mud all over her. A month ago she would've been disgusted at the thought of being anything less than spotless. Now, the dirt and muck didn't even phase her.

The uneven terrain and thick undergrowth kept pushing Rarity further away from the river, while she constantly encountered sheer drops that were far too steep for her to slide down safely. The longer Rarity stayed away from the river, the more anxious she grew.

The forest itself was teeming with life. The plants were lush from the deluge of storms, making the air and every surface look saturated, clean, or clear. Until recently, it was always the same hot, dry, and dusty days. Now, the rain cooled the atmosphere, giving all manner of creatures a chance to drink, to migrate, and to hunt.

Rarity's senses were being overworked as she became acutely aware of every sound and movement around her. Something large was breaking limbs somewhere nearby, so Rarity adjusted her course accordingly; not wanting to encounter anything that could potentially harm her.

Rarity constantly witnessed reminders that she was also on the food chain, and watched as a parasprite was snatched out of the air by the sticky tongue of a Fae Dragon, the color changing winged serpent itself was eaten a moment later by a pitch-black carnivorous plant.

The plant, Rarity quickly realized, was a remnant of Discord's plunderseed vines. Why Harmony deemed such a thing worthy to be added to the ecosystem, she'll never know. What she did know, was to avoid it at all costs. She couldn't afford her magic to be hampered by its pollen--assuming it had any to spread--and quickly removed herself from area.

The rain fell in intervals at a light drizzle as she traveled onward, and Rarity could already feel herself getting soaked. She could hear nothing else around her, but the constant white noise of falling water hitting countless leaves. Which redoubled her anxiety; for without her acute hearing to rely on, there was no way for Rarity to determine if a predator was stalking her. Or not.

Rarity's horn chimed with magic, as she pulled out the red furred cloak out of her saddlebag. The same one that once belonged to a runty little Dire wolf. The same beast which hunted her on that first night she ended up stranded in the Everfree Forest so long ago. Rarity dawned the cloak and adjusted it over her head so that her ears fit comfortably through the slits she cut for them. She sighed in relief now that she couldn't feel the fat water droplets constantly pattering against her head, and continued her journey to find Atchmon.

It was such an odd thought. To think that something that had once died was now helping her to survive. The red pelt was keeping her warm and dry from the cold rain. Rarity couldn't believe at one time she was so repulsed by the idea of wearing something else's hide; but now she depended on it. Now she could understand some inkling of Atchmon's ways, and so she silently thanked her would be murderer for being there; even if it was just to be killed and used for its fur. Rarity couldn't wrap her head around it completely, but accepted it for what it was and tried not to dwell on it anymore.

Her scalp felt sore from when Atchmon pulled her above water to prevent her from drowning in the river. Rarity then paused in her tracks as she replayed the recent events over in her mind.

"He didn't have his vest on..." she whispered in quiet realization. "He's completely exposed to the elements!" Rarity dismayed, and started to feel like less of a mare.

'Every time I try to do something, he always pays for it. If I hadn't of taken off, then he wouldn't be half-naked and hunted right now,' Rarity mentally chastised herself.

Rarity moved to hurry and find Atchmon, but stopped herself short of running into a full panic; in order to save him before he freezes to death, or worse.

"Now, now, we mustn't rush headlong into things. Think, Rarity, think. What would Atchmon do in this situation?" she thought for a minute. "Stay calm, and focus on where you are and what's around you, if we run around blindly without a plan then we're more likely to run into danger completely unprepared." Rarity's voice spoke in tandem with the memory of Atchmon's instruction.

She took a breath, gathering her wits, and moved to find her way back to the river. The longer and farther she strayed away from the water, the more likely she felt she was going to lose him. Or worse, him losing her, assuming he didn't already rescue himself.

That thought scared Rarity most of all. The thought of wandering around the Everfree Forest completely lost and alone; forever searching for a friend, who she would never know was alive or dead. She didn't want to think about abandoning him right now, but that may be a choice she will have to face sooner or later. Or, she could find her way back to the Den, and wait for him there, or for a rescue if one should arrive.

'No... I don't think those wolves are going to let us live in peace any longer... there was something so wrong about that encounter, I just know it.'

Rarity's head buzzed with thoughts, plans, and ideas on what she should do if she never found Atchmon. The best decision--she felt--was to stick to her old plan. To follow the river upstream to Canterlot Mountain. Only now with the hope Atchmon would catch up to her. "When that time comes... I'll have no choice, but to trust him to take care of himself." she whispered, not wanting to trust her own words.

"Atchmon might've said he prefers the cold, but I've seen him shiver at night; and without fur covering his body, there's nothing to help him keep warm," Rarity then realized how hot she was underneath all her leather barding. She was still soaked from the river, but the covering kept her nice and toasty; which made Rarity feel guilty. Here she was, well off with food and protection, while Atchmon likely drowned--or worse--was shivering uncontrollably, and catching his death of cold.

"Now is not the time to punish oneself for her mistakes, Rarity; now is the time to correct them," she barely dissuaded herself from feeling like a failure of a mare. She was supposed to take care of him. Then remembered that wasn't how things worked in Atchmon's world. Rarity knew he had to be just as worried about her, as she was with him; if not more so. Rarity was glad she didn't lose herself so far into her silly fantasies that she'd forgotten what being a responsible mare meant.

This was her chance to prove her worth, not just to him, but to herself.

"No more am I a supporting role, starting now, I become the heroine of my own story!" Rarity stood straighter, declaring her promise to the sky, put on a determined face; and marched on with newfound purpose.

Rarity could barely spare a thought as her mind echoed Atchmon's instructions to her, skipping between things like 'stay calm', 'be quiet', 'keep alert'; with her own inner voice repeating 'find Atchmon' and 'don't lose river'.

Rarity stopped dead in her tracks and sucked in a breath to keep herself from yelling in fright. She spotted something huge covered in black and gold feathers lurking within the growth. The owl-beast stood eight pony heights up--as tall as the lowest tree branch--and luckily didn't notice her. Its feathered head turned, but far enough for its massive round eye to spot her before lumbering away. Its 'hoots' sounded as if they were echoing without the actual echo.

Rarity kept herself low and tried to move swiftly without making any noise.

Rarity finally found her way back to the river, the muddy water was nearly a solid brown color; carrying silt and other mineral deposits downstream. Rarity's reverie was cut short, as she faced a big problem.

The river forked into two paths.

Rarity shifted anxiously on her hooves looking back and forth between the two routes. "Which way should I go? Where could he have gone?" she whispered worriedly, wondered if this rescue mission was pointless. What could she do? She was just one little Unicorn in a land full of monsters.

'And Atchmon is a magicless, clawless, fangless, squishy human.' she thought, bolstering her resolve to find him no matter what. She studied how the river flowed, and found that most of the bits of debris caught within the current flowed more to the left than the right.

She tested this theory by throwing large sticks and logs into the water to see where they'd go. Three out of five sticks flowed left while the other two went right. Twilight would probably chastise her for doing the bare minimum for research, but Rarity felt time was of the essence, and off she went in the direction her hypothesis took her.

Hours passed, and Rarity still found no sign of Atchmon; even though she managed to stick closer to the river this time, but her legs were sore from trotting all day. Darkness was falling, and she decided it was best to rest and wait until morning. A decision she didn't make lightly, knowing Atchmon was still alone and injured from the Thunderbird.

She hated it, but it couldn't be helped; and she needed to use what daylight was left to find a place to hide.

"Guess this will have to do," Rarity muttered, finding a nice hidey hole surrounded by big bushy Stingbush hedges; their spikey seed pods littered the ground.

With a little magic Rarity cleared a comfortable space for herself. Then removed her saddlebags, and sighed in relief after removing the burdening weight of the bags from her back. She silently wished Atchmon was around to soothe her aching sore muscles.

She checked herself over, and removed a stone that was trapped within the crevice between her frog and hoof. All of her hooves felt sore, and were covered in muck. Rarity used her magic, and levitated out a metal hoof-file from her saddlebag, then proceeded to remove the clods of dirt that collected on her frogs.

The soft mud helped relieve some the pressure from her trotting, while protecting her hooves from collecting anything worse along the journey. Once the mud dried it could trap anything she may have collected and be removed along with the muddy hoof-pies. However, the dirt could also be carrying dangerous bacteria, and other nasty diseases that could infect her hoof alone; resulting in a condition known as 'mud fever'. So it was best to remove any and all dried dirt and debris, and let her hooves air out. Some of the older Stingbush seed pods had spikes twice as long as any needle, which Rarity used to help remove most of the stubborn dirt trapped within the tighter recesses of her hooves.

She took a drink from her canteen, then shook it, and listening to the remaining water slosh around the large empty space. Rarity tried her best not to drink so much throughout the day, but couldn't stand the feeling of her dry, itchy throat and pasty tongue begging for refreshment. 'I'll need to find a way to filter more water tomorrow.' she thought, before taking one last sip to satisfy her thirst for the night.

It was nearly completely dark as the sun rested, while the sounds of the forest steadily came to life.

Rarity kept a vigilant eye out for danger, and could see dozens of creepy yellow eyes watching her from beyond the abyss.

Rarity stared back, listening to the growing ambiance of the forest.

The longer the night went on, the more frightened Rarity grew. She was unable to see anything beyond her snout, and was too afraid of what lay in the dark to light her horn.

She was all alone in a cold, dark, and dangerous place, forced to listen to the forest ambiance as it consumed all she could hear; which caused her imagination to run wild.

All the things Rarity has ever heard stories of--from creepy crawlies, to things that go bump in the night--were all right outside her haven. She covered her eyes using her forehooves, trying to block out and hide away from the countless monsters that wanted to eat her. It was all she could do to keep from crying.

To cry meant to die; a single sound could give her away, and so she aspired herself to be brave using Atchmon's example. Knowing he was once in the same position as she, during his first few weeks. And did her best to recollect his brave tales.

Then the wolves chimed in. Their haunting calls never relented. Ever reminding her that they were hunting a pony for their next meal.

The forest answered back with its own calls, and the wolves song was lost in an ever growing rambunctious cacophony of tweets, bleeps, sweeps, creeps, howls, yowls, screeches, shrieks, cries, caws, cackles, whoops, whistles, hisses, ribbits, clicks, croaks, clatters, and roars; along with dozens of other indiscernible sounds.

Dying was bad, but being eaten alive was the most terrifying death a pony could ever imagine. A given, considering their role as a prey species. No matter how much they tried to match their world in strength, or magic; ponies were simply no match compared to the innumerable amount of monsters that plagued their land. Other than a Princess or an army of warponies.

Rarity curled tighter into herself for protection against the noise bearing down on her. She could swear every sound was getting closer, coming for her, hunting her.

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAG-AG-AG-AG-AG-AG-

Something very big had enough of all the noise. Its deep and guttural call for quiet quaked the very ground beneath Rarity, as she listened to the sound echo on forever throughout the forest.

Silence reigned in the aftermath, aside from a few cheeky crickets.

Rarity was grateful for the silence, and took a small bit of pleasure in hearing the wolves be put in their place; but was also petrified from the sheer volume of whatever beast commanded such fear and respect.

Ponies generally didn't need much sleep. It's a biological remnant from back when ponies were nomadic grazers, and they needed to stay alert for predators; even while resting.

Nowadays, ponies were more monophasic; choosing to sleep a single large period of the day. This was mainly due to Unification. When the Earth, Pegasus, and Unicorn tribes banded together to create a much safer land for themselves.

Without predators to worry about, the Ponies were able to sleep for longer periods of time.

Since the defeat of Nightmare Moon, many ponies have started a more biphasic sleep cycle, to honor the return of Princess Luna. Those who were biphasic slept when it was time--then wake for a few hours during the night--only to fall asleep again until morning, or after daybreak.

It's still considered normal for a pony to nap a few minutes every couple of hours, and getting themselves some deep sleep. So much so, they could be considered polyphasic just like their ancestors. Earth Ponies mainly still clung to old sleeping habits, and are considered the most productive ponies because of it. They're the only ones who don't require much sleep at all, despite societal progress over the years. They can even get plenty of rest just by standing, and not moving.

Rarity wished she could call upon her ancestor's sleeping habits right about now, as every less than perfectly silent noise kept waking her with a jolt.

Laying in the itchy dirt under her bushy hidey hole wasn't as safe, calm, or relaxing as the cave she's lived in for the past several weeks.

At least it was much quieter there.

'Just ignore it. Focus on what you need to do now. Just get a little shut eye, Rarity, and tomorrow we can move on before Celestia raises the sun. That's it, just sleep now... Ooh, how I wish I knew how to do a barrier spell, even if it pops like a balloon, at least it'll give me some warning before I'm attacked by a monster.' Rarity's thoughts continued to distract her more than the ambiance of the dark forest. 'Don't think about being completely alone. Don't think about dying, or being eaten, or-'

"Ooh, stupid brain; Why. Won't. You. Shut. Up!" Rarity whispered harshly, while knocking herself upside the head.

Hours passed as the night progressed in the pitch black forest. Rarity's eyes were feeling tired and puffy. She wanted to sleep, but fear kept forcing her awake. The howling winds constantly rustled the leaves above her, in an unending song of despairing spirits.

Rarity laid her head down atop her hooves, and curled tighter into herself to preserve as much of her own warmth from the damp, freezing cold of the late night air. Her body was still wet from both the river, and her profuse sweat from trotting most of the day. She stank worse than she ever had in her life, leaving it a wonder why nothing hadn't found her yet. Which just made her even more anxious than before. The river wasn't very far, she could take a quick dip to remove the sweat in her coat. But, she knew that was a terrible idea, and would rather be dirty and warm, rather than clean and cold; and did her best to ignore the gritty feeling of her dirty body underneath her covering.

Slowly her eyes grew too heavy for her to keep open, her body relaxed, and eventually she drifted off to sleep.

Rarity's dreams were a torrential nightmare of visions and flashes. Some were of the days events, such as her running endlessly throughout the forest, and her utter helplessness after watching Atchmon being pulled away from her. In every instance she was reaching out to him, only to watch as he was taken from her.

A dark, foreboding beast was looming over her, and sank its teeth into her flanks.

Rarity woke with a start, then blearily looked around her surroundings. It was still pitch black and completely silent. The crickets and bugs must've bed down for the night, since the night was much colder than earlier. Rarity's ears were frozen stiff and so she shifted her red furred cowl around to cover them. She could feel the cold air blowing through the ear slits and onto her neck, but that wasn't so bad so long as her ears were getting warm.

'Wonder how long I slept for?' she thought, and continued to lay there for hours listening to the wind and the silence, while laying in the pitch black darkness, before drifting off to sleep again.

She awoke again still in the dark after another nightmare. She laid there for hours longer unthinking, and unmoving; as the long night chipped away at her emotional barriers. 'I'm alone... I'm so alone... I hate this. Why does it have to be like this? Why hasn't the sun come up? Why did this have to happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? Please, Celestia, let the sun up, please!'

Rarity wanted to make a fire, for the sake of having light and warmth to comfort her. But as much as she wanted to, Atchmon's voice reminded her that "it's better to remain hidden; unless you absolutely need it." Rarity let a tiny whimper escape her, and her tears followed soon after; hidden within the darkness behind her cowl.

Eventually her tiredness won out once again, and she drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

Rarity was roused from her sleep, and felt a weight pressing down on her flank. The weight shifted and put uneven pressure against her covered derriere. Little by little she woke from her slumber, and swiped her tail across her rump to ward off whatever insect was gnawing at her. But the pressure grew agitated and let out fierce, gargling little growls. Rarity swiped her tail again to drive off the persistent pest, only to be shocked awake by a sharp pain in her tail. Rarity tore off her red furred cowl, as she jumped to all fours from the intense pain on her tail end.

"Uuah!" Rarity gasped in fright at seeing her tail being devoured by some orange colored spiky hedgehog-like creature. Rarity immediately went into a panic. She bucked like a rodeo bronco by jumping, twisting and turning to shake the animal off her tail; her sharp-pointed haven constantly poked the exposed parts of her hide, galvanizing her to buck even harder. But the sharp-toothed critter wasn't letting go. Rarity had enough and pulled both her rear legs back, then bucked the creature hard. Her kicks connected solidly with the beast, sending it flying over the brambles along with a few of her tail hairs.

"Hah...ha...ha, hey!" Rarity panted after the rude awakening, and spotted two more creatures making off with her saddlebags. Rarity moved to intercept them, but was pulled back by her mane. In her panic, Rarity accidentally tangled her hair in the brush of the hidey-hole, and felt the distinct prick of spikes from the seeds against her scalp.

The spiky critter's short, stubby legs waddled quickly through the opening of her haven, dragging Rarity's bags between them and through the dirt in their equally short, stubby arms. The dark blue one gargled and rasped to the crimson one helping carry the bags, which made the Red one mad, and gargle-rasped something back to the Blue one. The Blue one argued back and threw its pudgy little arms in the air; the Red one did the same and the two started fighting each other. A Yellow one rolled up before uncurling itself from a ball, and broke up the fight by bonking both in the head, and ordering the other two to move on with the loot.

Rarity finally managed to free herself from the bush's clutches, and loomed over the trio of pukwudgies.

All three growled at Rarity and curled up into tight little balls of protruding spikes.

"Ah!" Rarity knew of these creatures, and gasped as she turned to the side while lifting a hoof to protect her face from their defense mechanism.

The pukwudgies shot a barrage of spikes at Rarity to ward her off their prize. Rarity felt the barbs pelting into her leather barding like hefty rain drops. After the assault was over, she opened her eyes and saw her flank covered in spikes, yet none managed to penetrate through her leather barding.

Rarity lifted a hoof, ready to scold the little critters for taking things that didn't belong to them, until she stopped and noticed a single needle sticking in her hoof. Her eyes glazed over, and she started to feel a little woozy, before collapsing to the ground from the pukwudgies paralyzing sleep darts. Her mouth remained slack jawed as she laid paralyzed on the ground, with her tongue lolled out and touching the dirt. She couldn't feel, or taste anything other than the numb, ballooning haze of nerves on her tongue and throughout her body.

Rarity watched helplessly as the red and blue critters licked their chops, and rolled their paws together, savoring a hearty meal to come; until their leader stopped them, and ordered them to move on with her bags. The pair begrudgingly obeyed, but not without mocking Rarity with jeers, before finally waddling away with her bags in tow.

Her vision blurred, as the dark corners of her eyes crept in, and she inevitably surrendered to the darkness.

Rarity woke up hours later smacking her pasty tongue and dry lips. She lit her horn to pull her saddlebags closer and drink from her canteen. She felt around with her magic, while groggily blinking the sleep away from her eyes. After blindly casting with no success, she looked over to find her saddlebags missing.

Rarity was in such haze that it took moments for her to register their absence, before jumping to her hooves in surprise and receiving a few good pokes from the surrounding sting-bush seeds.

Rarity darted her head around trying to find her missing possessions. Instead she noticed a trail of nuts leading out from her hidey hole. She looked around and saw there were no nut-bearing trees nearby. Plus, the very distinct trail they made suggested beyond a reasonable doubt that her bags were stolen. After that deduction her memory started to return in flashes. She looked at her flank, seeing numerous blue, red, and yellow spines stuck in her barding.

"Those petulant little beasts! I'll destroy them! They're going to pay for taking my things!" She stamped in anger. "I love my things!" Rarity bit the quill stuck in her hoof and yanked it out, she barely flinched from the pain of its barbed end being pulled out; and spat it on the ground, before storming off while magically yanking out the others from her flank.

Rarity huffed in anger, and didn't even think of the fact that she was still lost in the middle of the dangerous Everfree Forest. She was too focused on getting back what belonged to her. It wasn't about survival to her anymore; it was more about pride and dignity.

The day was much brighter than earlier; though due to the cloud cover and the thick forest canopy, it was difficult for Rarity to determine exactly what time it was. She guessed it was still before noon, and followed the trail of nuts she hoped would lead to her supplies.

The trail eventually dissipated, and Rarity could only find one or two of her nut supply occasionally on the ground. After losing the trail she searched the area for more clues, and noticed how disturbed the ground looked. From her observation she saw a distinct square path of overturned pebbles, flattened grass, and tiny furrows in the dirt. Something heavy was dragged through here recently, and Rarity could guess exactly what that something was. Any doubts she may have had were swiftly assuaged by finding tiny claw prints indented in the wet soil. Reaffirming her belief to being on the right track of the culprits responsible.

Much like the dresses she made, the tracks she followed told her so much about the ones who left them behind. Just like how she could tell a pony's wealth or interests by the style and quality of fabric that pony wore. She couldn't deduce things like age, weight, sex, or health like Atchmon could; and still doubted his honesty about the observations he made with squirrel tracks he showed her as an example. A female, carrying two babies on her back, with a husband that was sick with the flu; they had marital troubles, because the hubby got tired of moving their 'squirrel' couch around the house.

Then there was the advice about listening to the trees, and talking to the dirt to give her the answers she needed.

Rarity shook her head of the memories of Atchmon's ridiculous wisdom, and followed the trail for minutes on end. Eventually she started to find the occasional wayward poison spines that were likely shed by the creatures along the way.

After hours of following the trail, Rarity started to hear tiny voices in the distance. After carefully sneaking closer to the noise, Rarity found the beast's home along with the beast's themselves.

'There they are.'

The pukwudgies lived in a sizable crater of earth with several warrens dotting the concave. Many large roots from the nearby trees acted as ramps for the critters to move up and down the levels of their burrow. Half-eaten fruits, vegetables, and other spoils were strewn around crater, many of which likely belonged to Rarity's supply. Her face flushed with anger at the critter's wastefully gluttonous ways.

The pukwudgies were trying to push Rarity's saddlebags down into one of their hollows in the ground. Four of the critters were trying to push the bags in, while the Yellow leader of the group stood behind and helped them keep pace by gargle-rasping a 'heave' and pumping its tiny fist in the air with each cheer. One pukwudgie was jumping up and down atop her bags to help stuff them into the tiny hole. Her bags curved inward from being stamped into the tiny space, yet refused to give in.

Rarity didn't even bother introducing herself, before taking back her property by magically yanking them away from the little thieves. Causing the one atop her bags to flip backwards and land on its spiked rump, who then started gargle-rasping curses at her while shaking its tiny fist in the air.

The yellow one looked back and saw Rarity, then jumped in fright, curled into a ball, and rolled away to join the others in setting up a firing line. Yellow's raspy voice sounded out, and on his order of 'ready', 'aim', and 'fire'; the group shot another barrage of multi colored spines at Rarity.

"Ah!" Rarity screamed, and held her bags up like a shield to protect herself, this time minding her exposed hooves by laying low against the ground. She felt the barrage of spines pelt against her bags and withers; arcing over her protective barrier like arrows that nearly blot out the sun.

Once the assault was over, the surrounding area was peppered with multi colored quills sticking up from the ground, with a Rarity-sized hole in the center.

Rarity looked over her bags and gasped, after seeing the numerous sharp quills stuck into the fabric, with nary an inch of its surface spared from being punctured. 'I need to be careful, if one of those barbs hits me I'll be knocked out for hours again. And pukwudgies aren't exclusively vegetarian.'

"You got magic, Rarity; use it." she could hear Atchmon's voice echo in her mind. Despite how much she tried to convince him otherwise, he never ceased believing that she could do so much more with her magic.

The Yellow leader was about to order another salvo from his comrades, but Rarity interjected by wrapping the squad of pukwudgies in her blue levitational aura and facing them towards her. Where their soft, exposed bellies didn't have any barbs to shoot at her.

Rarity smiled smugly at the writhing creatures, as they gargle-rasped and flailed their protests from being caught. A bead of sweat traveled down Rarity's brow as she strained to hold them within her magical grasp. The pukwudgies weren't exactly 'small' critters, but holding all five of them simultaneously was taxing her magic.

'Great, now what am I going to do? They'll just come after me the moment I let them go,' Rarity thought, and looked again at the multitude of quills stuck in her saddlebag.

"Don't waste anything you can use; even if you don't have a use for it, yet." Atchmon's voice rang in Rarity's ears again. She blankly thought for a moment, as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place within her mind, before a devious smile spread across her face at the creatures.

The Yellow pukwudgie leader stopped thrashing, with the others following suit; and gulped at whatever fate the Unicorn had in mind for them.

Rarity released the critters one by one, as they were stripped bare of their poison spines.

Some of the pukwudgies grumbled in annoyance, others shook their tiny fists and gargle-rasped in anger at her, while the rest sat alone nursing their bald spots.

After removing the pukwudgies of their poison barbs as recompense for stealing Rarity's things, she bid them adieu and was on her way with a stockpile of knockout darts.

After getting some distance away from the pukwudgie hollows, Rarity decided to rest and to take stock on her supplies. She laid out her cowl on the ground so her fruits and veggies wouldn't get dirty, and checked everything over for dents made by the quills penetrating the fabric of her bags. She salvaged what she could and tossed the rest. She really didn't want to risk being knocked out again by ingesting the poison.

In her bags she brought out a bottle of expensive perfume, a can of hairspray, a coin purse full of Bits, her makeup, a Cosmare magazine, and the sewing kit.

Rarity made sure to keep the quills in a tight bundle away from her, and started making plans to craft a blow gun, before nearly facehoofing herself after remembering she has enough magic to poke anything within a couple dozen yards of her.

'Why do I keep over thinking these things?' She thought abashedly and moved on to her other supplies, which included her notebook she mainly used for taking commissions and measurements of ponies on the go. But now she was using it as a makeshift diary.

After laying everything out, Rarity only had about a quarter of the supplies she started with. And now a quandary was presented to her. Does she eat hearty, and have the energy needed for her travels? Or. Does she ration, and hope it lasts until she can resupply? Both choices had their pros and cons, and upon considering she was alone in unfamiliar territory; she settled with eating a few nuts and a pear for breakfast and drank half of her already low supply of water. Her growling tummy thanked her for the small meal, and her dry throat for the hydration.

While she ate, Rarity decided to read a few entries from her notebook.

Survival Log: Day 3

I've decided to keep a sort of diary of my time stuck out here in this wretched place. Atchmon thinks it's 'pointless' as his experience boils down to eating, sleeping, and I shunt mention the third thing, as it's too vulgar for me to write. Nevertheless, I feel this will be a productive use of my time. If anything, it'll help me de-stress at night whenever I'm feeling anxious, or worried. It'll be just like my schoolfilly days!

Survival Log: Day 7

Atchmon finished crafting my own bed today. As I lay in it now I find it's not too bad. I'm glad he followed my very reasonable, and not at all numerous specifications. No matter what he may say differently. I just hope we're found soon. It wouldn't be the first time I've went without luxury, nor the longest. I once slept on a bed without a duvet on the down comforter, and if I can do that, then I can certainly handle a few more days of sleeping on grass and fur. BLECH!
I should do something nice for Atchmon in return for his generosity. Perhaps a few flowers will help brighten up this drab, old cave. Atchmon removed that little table of his to make room in the cave, which is wonderful because it's the perfect spot for a flower pot. Oh, he'll just love that!

Note to self. Don't ever. ever. ever. EVER. Touch Atchmon's things. Being a guest in his home I conceded to his wishes. Though, I do wish he'd be a little more hospitable.

Survival Log: Day 9

A tick! I found a tick on me! That's it! I'm so done with this awful place! The last thing I want to do is put myself through a dip once I get back home! The smell of the alchemicals is horrid! Not to mention what it's going to do to my coat! There's no telling what color my hide is going to be; usually it'll be either green or yellow! YUCK! Luckily Atchmon was kind enough to lend his assistance in helping me find anymore of the parasites. Just the thought of those nasty little insects gives me the creeps! On a side note, I never have to ask him to give me a scratch. He's quite happy to oblige my needs... Most of the time.

After reading that entry, she started to feel a little buggy, and checked herself over.

Survival Log: Day 14

It amazes me how incredibly vulnerable Atchmon is, and yet he still manages to survive for so long out here. Today I felt confident my leg had fully healed, and he suggested we go for an extended walk to stretch it out. It still felt sore, but at least my worst fears were averted. During the trip he was so slow, that I kept having to stop and wait for him to catch up to me! I don't trot that fast, do I? Then on our way back he wanted to race me from the edge of the field to his home. I was hesitant at first, but once I got going, I left him in the dust! For such a tall creature he can't move very fast. However, I was far more winded than he was in the end. I wonder if there's something to that?

Survival Log: Day 23

Every once in awhile I catch Atchmon staring off into the distance. He never answers me when I ask him what he's thinking, usually he tells me it's nothing. I know he must be thinking of his home. Whenever I find him deep in thought there's a certain regalness to his look, and a strength born of patience and perseverance. But there's something else behind all that, a kind of heartbreaking pain and longing that would probably drive most beings into madness. As I write this, I realize I must be careful around him.

Rarity had to take a break from reading after that. It hurt her heart to speak ill of him, and couldn't believe that so recently she was still wary of him. He was her friend now, and she missed him.

Many pages were filled with doodles and design ideas, along with notes Rarity took when she'd ask about clothing from Atchmon's world; some were even crossed out in favor of other ideas. She felt many of these would be big hits for casual wear and relaxing. Far be it from her to get a leg up on the competition using alien fashion. Such things simply weren't fabulous in her eyes, but she could admit that wearing a thing called 'stockings' would look immeasurably cute on ponies.

'I hope we're found soon. I'd very much like to clothe him. His upright posture gives me such inspiration for some new ideas I'd very much like to try, it's just a shame ponies can't really trot upright and show our bellies. Many of my new ideas revolve around that area being presentable. '

She checked the interior of her saddlebags for anything that may have gotten trapped inside. Her bags were a shadow of their former selves. Before this tragedy, they were a beautiful alabaster made of the finest materials that were the envy of every other bag. Now they were brown and icky with tiny holes pockmarked all over, and repaired tears along its side.

Rarity spent a while reminiscing on all the good times they had together. How this wonderful bag of holding never let her down; even saving her life on more than one occasion. She trailed a hoof along the scar adorning her right-sided saddlebag; a wound she likely would be wearing now if it wasn't for her trusty bag. Rarity wasn't going to throw them away like they were nothing.

No, they deserved better than that.

"You've been so good to me, saddlebags. I'll be sure to give you a proper send off like the fallen warriors of the Mighty Helm. I hope the Valkyries find you worthy and carry you to Neighallah. Perhaps Atchmon would be willing to shoot the flaming arrow on your funeral pyre, as you sail away on your boat to the Everafter." Rarity spoke wistfully to her precious saddlebags.

Rarity upturned her saddlebags, and shook them out to be rid any dirt or debris trapped inside; until something foreign dropped from the sacks.

It was a charm just like the one adorning the head of Atchmon's bed back in his home. Only this one was tiny by comparison. Rarity levitated the object up, and let it rest on the flat of her hoof to examine. It was a much more simplistic design, but no less intricate with the spider web of twine- No, not twine. Rarity recognized the purple hair as her own. It was completely woven around the perfectly circular charm making up the spider's web. A tiny red bead was caught within the web just off its center. She wondered how he could've acquired her hair, and remembered him gathering it to keep, after the times she trimmed her mane and tail. More of her hair trailed below the round charm, adorned with feathers black as pitch and white beads all woven together.

Rarity admired the craft, though found the red bead a bit distracting; she still loved the color pallet.

Rarity looked inside the bag it dropped from, in order to find out where it was hidden. "Interior zipper pockets... what was I thinking." Rarity reproached herself, and smiled down at the charm, before putting it back where it belonged.

'I'll have to thank Atchmon for this gift, once I see him again,' Rarity thought, however, the words 'If I ever see him again' whispered in the back of her mind.

Rarity got up to relieve herself, lifting the backside of her barding up like the frill of a dress; her tail slipping through the opening made for it. The barding didn't cover her most private areas, but Rarity wasn't about to risk soiling herself because of laziness. She didn't care if Atchmon thought urine was 'clean', she still didn't want any on her.

She shifted back on her hind legs and lifted her tail, enough that she was sure nothing nasty would get on her, and did her business. Rarity could almost feel the warmth of her stream radiating as it flowed beneath her. She grimaced as she felt a few stray droplets splash onto her hind hooves. Once her bladder was empty she felt something else coming along, and took a moment to look around and make sure the coast was clear.

"Uhgn, mmph," Rarity scrunched up her face and grunted as she pushed out her pony-pies. Her ponut expanded uncomfortably, almost painfully, as the large pellets passed underneath her dock, and fell to the ground with an audible plop. Several more followed after the first, with each one further relieving the pressure within her plot. The horrid smell wafted to her, and she clenched to be sure there was nothing left sticking to her; then levitated leaves from the nearby branches to wipe herself with.

Rarity didn't bother covering or burying her mess. The thought of leaving her dung in the open bothered her. Even if she should, there wasn't anything she could use to hide it. She left the area, and put her barding back in place; wanting to get as far away from her leavings as quick and soon as possible.

Rarity strapped on her saddlebags, ready to continue her trek.

"Sssh, Ow! Ah, horse-apples," Rarity cursed after feeling a sharp pain lance behind her shoulder. She removed her bags and undid her barding, then levitated out her mirror. "Rain-Rot... uhhgh," she sighed in annoyance, after seeing the rash on her hide.

Rain-Rot wasn't a serious condition, but it was highly irritable. Rarity knew it was going to happen eventually. What with all the rain, moisture, humidity, and her barding constantly rubbing against her bare hide; not to mention the fact she hadn't used soap, or had a proper bath in over a month. She was stinky and dirty. She knew that. But, it amazed her that the wolves or anything else hadn't made a beeline for her already.

Rarity eventually came upon a large cluster of mushrooms growing along a huge downed tree trunk. Ponies could eat them, so long as they were the ones that were edible. Rarity stood there wondering if she should bother with picking the caps to help resupply her food, and thought of Atchmon's opinion on the matter.

"Don't bother." his voice echoed in her mind, back when Rarity asked about the red and white spotted toadstools she found a couple weeks ago. True, there were many varieties of mushrooms that were poisonous, yet, virtually identical to those that were edible.

"Perhaps having just one couldn't hurt, could it?" Her stomach growled, begging for attention. The tiny breakfast she ate earlier didn't do much to assuage her appetite.

Rarity took a tiny, lady-like bite off the cap of a multi colored mushroom. It was mainly pink in color, with lavender and green swirls, that gleamed with a certain effervescence. Rarity chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. It tasted really good despite the mushy softness of its texture. Perhap she got the right ones after all.

"Hmm... I suppose we won't know for sure if they're dangerous for awhile at least." Rarity decided to pack a few more away, just in case.

As she picked more of the caps, her vision started to distort. The colorful mushrooms were much more vibrant than they were just minutes ago. And Rarity started to feel a pleasant fuzziness all over her hide. Every sore, ache, and pain she felt from earlier blossomed into pleasurable sensations.

"Oh, haha, my what pretty colors. Woohoho... Whoa- Weehehehoo..." Rarity swayed back and forth as her vision swirled, and watched as all the colors brightly mixed together. She lifted a hoof, and waved it in front of her face; watching in amusement as the afterimages of her forehoof faded from sight.

Rarity felt better than she had in ages. Everything felt good and wonderful. Everything was amazing and looked amazing.

"I don't know what I was so worried about. What was I thinking? The forest is so beautiful; why hadn't I noticed it before," she swooned, and closed her eyes as she danced and twirled in place. She reveled in the wonderful feelings of the light, cool breeze upon her face as every sensation became more enhanced.

While Rarity twirled around lost in her own little world; a dark, imposing figure rose ominously from behind the downed tree log.

Rarity opened her eyes and froze in place as she followed the dark creature's ascent.

"Good feeling's gone." Rarity squeaked as the blood drained from her face, and all the beautiful colors along with it; her ears laid back in fear at the monstrous abomination before her, while it settled the boney bone-white appendages of its legs on the downed bough of the tree.

It had a black morass body with a protruding rib cage, and a completely exposed skull. Rarity stared up at its lack of a face, seeing a pair of glowing pale white eyes within the pitch black sockets.

This creature was known as a bogheighst. They weren't dangerous to living things, but were highly territorial, as they mainly fed on rot and decay; but that didn't stop Rarity from hauling flank away from the nightmarish creature, as the beast let out a territorial 'roar' after Rarity ran away, which sounded like backwards screaming pony whinny. Its true scream is said to render listeners unconscious.

Rarity slowed to a stop and held a hoof over her chest to calm her thudding heart. She prayed that would be the most excitement she would ever have to face, but knew that was too much of her ask.

After she calmed, Rarity took a moment to get her bearings, and pressed onward in the direction she believed would bring her back to the river.

Rarity rested under a large slanted log that lay against a fairly tall ridge of earth; which concealed her quite nicely. It had a soft bed of moss underneath for her to lay on. "If there wasn't still so much daylight left, I'd love to rest here for the night," she mused quietly.

Rustle-snap!

Rarity's ears homed in on the sound before she could register it, and made sure to conceal herself as she waited quietly.

Haff-haff-haff-sniff-sniff-sniff-huff!

Something was breathing heavily just above her, atop her log. Rarity nearly squealed in fright as a mass of dirty fur jumped down in front of her. And a second one a moment later.

Two Elder wolves were scouting the area, the smaller youth constantly sniffed at the bared fangs of the senior. Both wolves were fully gown, their elongated bottom canines curled upward like tusks. The elder of the two was a sizable amount larger than the other.

'Oh, Celestia, they've caught up to me,' Rarity watched the two ashen wolves bicker back and forth with high pitch growl-barks; until the larger one had enough and dominated the other by pinning the pup to the ground. The smaller of the two relented and dashed off, likely to join the rest of the pack. The larger ashen wolf watched his junior run off, before smelling around the area.

Rarity quietly casted her magic, and pulled out a few of the poison quills from her bag. 'I'm not sure what to do... If I stay here they might find me, and call the others; but if this doesn't work, then I'm going to be their next meal; either way doesn't bode well for me... I have to try and escape, if I can. Just one obstacle in my path...'

Rarity waited until the Elder Dire wolf was facing away. And just as she was about to make her move it snapped its attention towards her; carefully listening with its perked ears. Rarity's heart thumped loudly in her chest as she waited with bated breath, before the old Dire wolf finally looked away, yawning and pawing at its fluffy ears.

Rarity released the breath she was holding and snuck out of her hiding spot, with her red furred cowl still pulled over her.

The ashen wolf was trotting slowly away from Rarity, giving her the opportunity to sneak closer without being detected. She watched the old wolf from behind a tree, as it lapped at the water from a puddle. The area around them was devoid of undergrowth, making sneaking any closer a challenge.

Rarity took the quill in her magic, and started to float it towards the unaware wolf. Her heart thundered at the thrill of bringing down such a fearsome predator, while her fear pulled at her to run away, afraid of what would happen if she should fail. Those thoughts caused the tiniest slip in Rarity's concentration, causing her magic to chime at a slightly higher pitch.

Rarity quickly hid herself fully behind the bough of the tree, and tried to stifle her breathing while keeping her concentration on the poison quill; and willed her magic to bring the spine up and out of sight of the wolf.

The wolf's ears twitched at the sound and snapped its head to attention. He sniffed at the air, but could see nor smell anything else. The wolf snorted in annoyance and went back to drinking from the puddle.

Rarity slowly peeked around the corner of the tree, and silently sighed in relief at not being caught; then continued quietly casting her magic around the poison quill, bringing it ever closer to the beast.

Rarity's levitation spell was never very strong. She couldn't lift anything more than a full grown Pegasus mare, both due to things like weight, gravity, and magical resistance. Another thing to consider about levitation is range. A Unicorn's spell is only effective within a certain area, and the only way to increase that area is with practice, training, and a massive pool of magical energy. The further away something is, the harder it's going to be to keep casting on it. It's best to think of it as sound waves, a Unicorn's horn is the instrument, while the magic they use is the music. Eventually the sound of music will fade too much for the spell to function. And the only answer is to have stronger lungs, to blow more music through their horns. A Unicorn can cast more loudly, but that will usually muddy the spell. And Rarity was trying her best to be as quiet as possible, which reduced her effective range even further.

Rarity bit her tongue as she concentrated getting the quill as close to her target as possible. Sweat poured from her brow from the hot, humid air. Her furred cowl was stifling and narrowed her vision, she must see far and blinked to clear her dry eyes. Her saddlebags were heavy, bearing down on her back, while her target was so very far away; and looked as though it were getting further as the moments ticked by.

A gentle breeze blew behind her, and the wolf lifted its nose, smelling at the air.

Rarity couldn't get the quill any closer without an audible chime from her magic, and it was still yards away from its target.

The Elder Dire wolf whirled on her, while lowering itself for a pounce. Rarity's concentration faltered at being caught, as her heart stopped. The old wolf charged while savagely snapping its jowls at her. Rarity stepped out from behind the tree, and with all her concentration she rocketed the poison quill towards the carnivore.

Doink!

The beast bucked around as the poison spike was jabbed into its rump, before continuing its charge towards its prey.

Rarity closed her eyes and flinched away as she felt the weight of the wolf pound into the earth.

Fump!

Rarity's breaths were short and quick as she waited for the beast to tear into her. But after awhile nothing happened...

She fluttered one eye open, then snapped both wide as the massive beast laid slack-jawed before her with the quill still stuck in its rump. The Elder wolf whined pathetically beneath her.

"Mmm-Mmm-Hmm-Hmm!" Rarity danced on her tippy-hooves and covered her mouth as she tried to contain her giddiness for bringing down one of her pursuers.

'Hopefully the brute will still be out of the picture for a few hours at least. But now what? If I leave then there's no reason for them to not pick up my trail; I'll have to make sure this one can't be found first,' Rarity looked around and saw a growth of elephant ear leaves and down branches, then proceeded to cover up the Elder wolf's body.

Rarity checked her work over. "If I didn't already know you were here; I don't think I'd be able to see you myself, darling."

At that thought she checked herself over. "Hmm... these colors really do clash with the atmosphere," Her muddy-brown barding was the only part of her that blended in somewhat well, but her white hooves, face, throat, and purple mane and tail simply didn't compliment it well.

She looked down at the covered wolf. The camouflage was spot on; and she grimaced at the thought of covering herself head to hoof in muck. The leaves and branches stuck every which way, causing her eyes to lose themselves in the swirls of brown and green.

Rarity's eyes suddenly popped open as something came to mind. "Ideeaaa!" she sang, and brought out her sewing kit, before getting to work on her latest design.

Did you know that pukwudgies were originally a Native American folklore creature? I sure didn't! I was originally taking inspiration from the CRITTERS movies, but the new MLP season started WAY before I could get to this part. Either way, I couldn't NOT use them. I wanted to build on the Predator scene back in Chapter 2, with Rarity playing the role of 'Arnold Schwarzenegger'. But I wanted to be sure she still kept to her 'pacifist pony beliefs', hence came the role of the Pukwudgies.

I loved hearing stories about the 'little people'. Pukwudgies are usually depicted as poison spear/dart wielding Pygmies. In several Native languages their name can be translated to include descriptions such as 'forest dweller' or 'little man of the woods'. Their lore is very similar to that of leprechauns.

One of my favorite stories about the 'little man of the woods'; he comes to take young boys into the wilderness to meet three Elders. One Elder carried herbs and a medicine pouch around his neck; the second, had a bow and knife; and the third, smoked tobacco from a peace pipe.

The 'little man' tells the boy; he must choose one. The medicine pouch, bow, or pipe.

If the boy chose the Elder with the bow, then he would become a great warrior. If he chooses the Elder with the Medicine pouch, then he would become a shaman to the tribe, and be very skilled in making medicine from herbs. If he chooses the Elder with the pipe, then he would become a man of peace and a great leader.

Once the boy chooses his path, the 'little person' takes the boy back to his village and tells him to "Never speak of this to anyone, or your path will be closed to you, and you will be forever lost."

The story changes slightly in details, but that's basically the gist of it.

Is it true?

Has this ever happen to me?

Well... I'm not supposed to talk about that.