That wasn’t Mommy, that wasn’t Mommy, that wasn’t Mommy, that wasn’t Mommy…

The three words looped through the filly’s mind, endlessly repeating. She couldn’t escape their grasp, no matter how fast she ran, her hooves clattering against Trotingham’s cobblestones. The words followed her, sinking their claws into her head, unrelenting and terrible. What was far worse than the words, however, was the image that accompanied them. That horrifying creature, dressed in her mother’s rosy coat and golden mane. That terrifying apparition, looking at her with those dead, dancing eyes, smiling at her with those gleaming, wickedly sharp fangsDon’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it…

Her mind chanting this new mantra, the pink filly dashed on, struggling to blink away the tears that clouded her vision, ruby mane and tail flapping in the wind as her hooves slammed into the ground again and again. Thoughts consumed by terror, she cared little for where she ran, only that she left that thing in her house far, far behind. It was a twisted, rambling path she took, hurrying through streets and alleys, running, always running.

The fog made it hard to see, impairing her already tear-stained vision. It wisped about her, clutching at her with its immaterial grip, suffocating her with its overwhelming volume. But the fog was nothing, nothing, compared to what lay inside it. Shapes moving through the mist, looking, sounding, feeling just like ponies as they reached out for her, hooves tearing through the dark clouds that surrounded them.

But the filly knew better. There were no ponies in the streets today. There were only monsters, creatures like the one that wasn’t her mother. Today, she was alone. All alone.

On a sudden impulse, the foal turned into a particularly darkened alleyway, silently praying with every ragged breath that she would find safety, solitude in its embrace. He pleas went unanswered, however, as her hoof snagged on a loose stone, flying out from under her. The filly tumbled painfully to the street, legs and sides scrapping on the rough ground beneath her. As she finally slid to a stop, her exhaustion suddenly caught up to her, weighing down her limbs with its remorseless burden. Struggling against bonds of fatigue, the filly tried to rise to her feet, forcing herself halfway up before collapsing yet again, her meager strength abandoning her. So she lay there, in that dirty, dark alleyway, lost in her terror-filled world. Small rivulets of water ran down her cheeks as she struggled to hold back the sobs, her tiny body convulsing with shudders.

Tear-stained eyes are not the best tools for observing your surroundings, so the filly failed to notice the oddity that resided in the alleyway. Not the cluster of rubbish-bins, not the pile of half-rotted crates, nor the group of shattered bottles, but a large, deep-blue box. A box that, had the filly been looking at it, would have seemed to mysteriously repel the misty darkness, creating a small haven of air and light. A box, whose frosted windows, for a single, brief moment, glowed with a strange burst of golden light, before fading back to their off-white tint. A box that simply stood there, its scratched and worn surface seemingly beginning to repair itself. A box, whose doors suddenly slammed open, a dark silhouette emerging from within, haphazardly galloping towards the suddenly alert filly.

Panic forced the foal to find new strength; rising on legs that no longer screamed in protest, she prepared to resume her flight, to escape this new danger. But she was far, far too late. The shape had already reached her, grabbing at her with incredibly fast movements, catching her around the shoulders. A scream of terror tore from the filly’s lips as the monster wrapped its legs around her. Sobbing, she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to feel razor fangs tearing through her flesh, serrated claws ripping her in two. She was not expecting, however, to feel an embrace of comfort, to hear gentle words whispered into her laid-back ears.

“Shh, shhhhhhhh. It’ll be alright, it’ll be alright. I promise.”

The filly found herself being pressed against a furry chest, felt a pair of legs protectively wrapped around her tiny body. Their grip was strong, but soft, the body tensed, but warm. As she slowly began to calm her struggles, the filly heard a gentle tone rumbling through her ears, a stallion’s whispering voice feeding her words of comfort. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you. It’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you. It’s going to be alright, I’ve got you.”

Trembling slightly, the filly opened her glistening eyes. Turning her gaze upward, she stared at the stallion that held her in his tight embrace. An amber form filled her vision, its touch warm and wholesome. A kind face smiled back at her, the visage ringed by a mane of chocolate hair. A pair of ice-blue orbs stared into her eyes, full of compassion and care. They were old eyes, eyes that spoke of peace, eyes that sang of hope, eyes that told a story both new and ancient. They were eyes that the filly trusted, eyes that she somehow knew would keep her safe. So, she buried her muzzle into the stallion’s shoulders, and let the tears fun free. She sobbed into her savior’s loving hold, gasping out words as she did.

“There w-was something wrong with Mo-Mommy when I woke up. And, and then, there were all these monsters, and they were all chasing me, and, and…”

“Hey, hey, shhhh. It’s okay, I won’t let the monsters get you. I’ve got you; you’re safe now.”

The freezing terror that still clawed at the filly’s heart told her that the stallion was lying, that he was tricking her, trying to trap her so he could get her. Horrible thoughts traipsed through her mind, images of her body broken and mangled, pictures of the stallion smiling at her with horrible fangs, just like her mommy. But, the words that the stallion spoke, the words that flowed through her ears woke something else within her, something warm, something strong, something bright. “Do you know what always helped me when I was scared? Stories. Would you like me to tell you one?”

Sniffing, the filly managed a small nod. The smile that crossed the stallion’s features seemed to glow brighter, a twinkle filling his ancient eyes. “Alright, here we go then. Now, a very, very long time ago, there was a, uh…” For a moment, the stallion seemed to lose his focus, glancing at both his own body and the filly still clutched in his hooves. Shrugging his shoulders, the stallion shook his head, and continued.

“There was a very clever, err, pony. Now, this pony was a special pony, because, you see, he had a very special box.” Glancing down at the filly, the stallion noted that her tears seemed to be slowing, her sobs growing less frequent. “Now, can you guess why it was so special?” The filly gave a small shake of her head, eliciting a chuckle from her chestnut guardian. “Well, you see, it was a magic box, with all kinds of amazing powers! It could jump across the land, soar through the sky, and, if the pony was really lucky, it would be able to carry a few friends as well. So, the clever pony and his magic box went on a grand adventure, dancing across the stars…”

The brown stallion told his story. He told of journeys to distant places, of battles lost and wars won, of friendships made and companions gained. He talked of impossible sights, of ferocious monsters and wicked creatures, of beautiful scenes and awe-inspiring voyages. For what felt like hours to the little filly, she listened as her guardian talked and talked, her imagination gorging itself on images of a handsome, heroic, clever stallion and his wonderful, impossible box. The terror that had ravaged her heart and mind, that had torn her away from her peaceful life, slowly began to fade away, gradually replaced by a sense of wonder and joy. For the most part, she was content to listen to her protector, to drink in his amazing tale. But, once, when the stallion had reached a particularly dramatic point (Involving several devious, ruthless enemies, a forsaken world, and a copy of the clever pony of all things), she asked a question in a trembling voice.

“B-but, wasn’t he scared? All those monsters, and it was only him and his friends, all alone. How did he stay brave?”

The stallion, poised to continue the story, was lost in thought for a moment. Then, his eyes brightened, and he gave the filly another small smile. “Tell me, do you know why the pony traveled with so many friends? Do you know why he didn’t just go by himself, on all those fantastic adventures?”

“Be-because he was lonely?”

An icy-blue eye winked at the filly, as the stallion continued. “Well, yes. Of course he was lonely. But, there was another reason he had all those friends. You see, everywhere the pony went, all of the ponies he met, all of the creatures he helped, they all trusted him. They all believed, with all their hearts, that he would save them, that he would stop the monster, fix the problem, rescue the little filly that needed saving,” he said as he lightly poked his audience  on the tip of her nose. “But, that wasn’t enough for the pony. It wasn’t enough that everyone believed in him, he needed someone to believe in.

“And he found them. All his friends, all his companions and allies, he trusted them with every fiber of his being. They all believed in each other, helping each other, inspiring each other to reach higher and higher. They stuck together, and together they won.

“If there’s one lesson that the pony learned on all his travels, it was that friends make anything possible. You can fight against impossible odds, face ferocious foes, and always win. That’s what friends can do for you. That’s what the pony needed.”

As the stallion continued his story, the filly slowly felt her eyelids grow heavy. The exhaustion that had plagued her tiny body softly returned, lulling her into a gentle doze. As her eyes began to flutter shut, she asked the stallion a final question.

“Mister, will you be my friend?”

If the filly had possessed the energy to look up, she might have noticed the twinkling mist that filled the stallion’s eyes. Instead, she only heard his tender response, as she fell into sleep’s comfortable embrace. “Of course I will.” Arching his neck, the hazel colored stallion nuzzled the slumbering foal. “Dream well.”

And so, the filly dreamed. Not of sweetshops or dancing, not of games or playgrounds, not of dresses or crowns. She dreamed she was in an impossible box, dyed the most perfect shade of blue. She dreamed of a heroic stallion, leaping across the skies of a thousand worlds. She dreamed of herself, running alongside him, on a journey that lasted forever and a day.

The stallion, seeing that his charge was fast asleep, allowed his ever-present smile to fade away, replaced with a visage of grim resolve. His eyes, the orbs that had been so full of mirth and cheer, hardened, steeling themselves with untold measures of rage and fury. Determinedly, albeit somewhat unsteadily, he rose to his hooves, awkwardly locking his legs in place, leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway for support. His limbs finally positioned correctly, he glared at the dark fog that still flitted around the area, as though daring it to attack him. Harsh words fell from his lips, tinged with wrath and anger, in sharp contrast to his earlier tone.

“I know you’re there. I can feel you, trying to rip my mind apart. Let me tell you, that’s a very, VERY, bad idea. So, listen up. I have had an incredibly bad day. I’m tired, I’m lost, and for some strange reason, I’M A BLOODY PONY. So, come on, let’s get this over with. Where are you, and what do you want?”

Almost as though it were responding to his words, the fog shifted, flowing in strange patterns and arcane swirls. All the smog that had filled the alley smoothly folded itself into one incorporeal mass, a swirling pool of obsidian and ebony, blocking off the passage’s sole exit but leaving a small haven of clear air for the two ponies and the strange box. At least, it was clear until the cloud started moving forward, inching its way towards the equine figures.

Stumbling slightly, the stallion pushed off the wall, coming to an awkward stop directly in front of the slumbering filly. Hunching his shoulders, the stallion leaned forward protectively, as though preparing to charge the shifting cloud of darkness spread out before him, as it doggedly slid closer and closer.

“I swear by every star in the sky, if you touch her, I will make you pay. Now, you will tell me, what do you want.”

They simply stood there, the stallion and the cloud, neither one advancing or retreating, locked in a motionless dance. For what may have been hours or seconds, the two parties stayed their hooves, waiting for an unspoken signal, a sign of what to do. Then, the stallion heard the voice. The voice that did not travel through his ears, but that clearly resonated in his thoughts, ripping through his mind like a thunderbolt. It was a terrible voice, full of loathing and spite. It was a wonderful voice, full of beauty and strength. It was an ancient voice, one that spoke of eons of life.

Who are you?

The stallion’s hackles raised as the voice echoed within his head, its simple question digging through his thoughts, tearing through his memories, hurtling deep into his heart. Had he been a normal pony, there was no doubt the stallion would have suffered unknowable agony as the voice ripped through him, as he witnessed his soul being laid bare before the mental onslaught. However, by no means was he a normal pony. Closing his eyes, the stallion allowed a soft whisper to escape his lips, his words gently floating through the alley, full of immeasurable strength and power.

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure about that yet; still working on figuring out who this one is. But,” he continued, glacier tinted orbs snapping open, burning with the rage of a thousand suns, “I do know this much. I like my friends. And anyone, anyone, that tries to hurt them will suffer.”

The slowly roiling mass of darkness paused for a moment, its movement halted. The stallion winced as the voice again resonated through him, ripping through his mind like a frozen blade, incredibly cold and brilliantly sharp.

A warrior? A monster? A god?

The stallion struggled to respond, his breathing becoming slow and ragged from strain. However, his voice still held that feeling of indomitable courage, utter recklessness, and just a hint of madness. “Those, and so many, many more. If you want me to list all my titles, we’ll be here for a very long time.”

For the third time, the voice rang through the stallion’s mind. However, the anguish that had accompanied it had faded away; no longer did the struggling pony feel his thoughts torn away, nor his soul being stung by countless blades.

Why do you fight?

For an instant, the stallion’s pain and exhaustion disappeared. Bracing his legs against the gritty cobblestones, he stretched his neck and head, rising to his full height.  His chocolate mane clung to his sweaty flesh, his sepia coat ruffled and dirty, yet still glowing with life. But nothing shown brighter than his eyes, twin spheres of ageless majesty and compassion. When he spoke, gone were his tones of rage and hate, replaced by a feeling of truth and care.

“Because I don’t want anyone else to suffer.”

Again, silence overtook the alleyway, broken only by the steady, quiet breaths of the slumbering foal. For the final time, the voice spoke.

Go. Save her, and don’t look back.

The darkness began to draw back, leaving the alley clear of its presence. The sorrel pony took a step forward, a hoof extended towards the retreating cloud, his mouth opening to shout out. However, the rapid movement caused him to lose his balance; he fell onto the rough ground beneath him, body splayed out awkwardly. “Tch. Guess I’m not in any position to complain, eh?”

For what felt like ages, the stallion lay there, allowing the exhaustion to fade from his limbs. Again, he struggled to his feet, this time without the aid of a wall. Though his steps were maladroit and clumsy, he managed to wobble his way back towards the tiny form peacefully sleeping behind him. After a few trial and error sessions, the stallion managed to lift the filly onto his back, her small weight nearly toppling him over. Through a combination of gravitational force, a perfectly-timed breeze, and some well-placed trash cans, the amber coated stallion managed to walk to the box he had emerged from earlier, its windows now glowing with a hint of light.

A sharp tapping noise filled the alley as a hoof clattered against the stone beneath it. As though in response, a click echoed about the passage as the box’s doors swung inward, acting under some unseen force. “Oh, lovely. Now you’re working; I could have used some help earlier you know. Come on, we’ve got a guest.”

Stepping inside the blue box, the stallion and his passenger disappeared, the doors swinging shut as another tap resonated through the air. For a moment, the alley was still, devoid of sound or movement. Then, its silence was broken, for the final time, by the whirring of some strange engine, by a sound akin to the heartbeat of the universe. The box began to fade away, its once solid form becoming ethereal and transparent. With a final whir, the blue box disappeared from the alley.

After a moment, the darkness came back.

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My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, and the character "Doctor Whooves" are the property of Hasbro and the Hub.

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