SurvivalAnon V2 - Chapter 2

Ugh…waking up with no idea where you are…  This is starting to become a theme with you.…

Wait, shouldn’t you be dead? Celestia made it pretty clear back there what she thought of you. How are you still alive? You open your eyes, but all you can see is darkness. As your senses slowly come back into focus, you can feel a blindfold tied tightly around your head, obscuring your vision. Another cloth was tied lower around your head as a gag, the cloth rough and tasteless in your mouth. Your hands are once again bound behind your back by something metallic, probably by manacles like before. You can feel a soft breeze blowing against the exposed skin on your face, and you can smell the soft scent of fresh air. You must be outside then. Whatever you are laying on was smooth and hard, and wobbled slightly. Small shifts in your stomach give you the sensation that you were moving somewhere. You must be on some sort of transport, but it’s traveling far too smoothly to be on any sort of road. You’re getting tired of not knowing what’s going on. You want your damn bow back.

You try to move, but your entire body screams in protest. Good lord, it felt like you were run over by a steamroller! You scrunch up into a ball and scream into your gag as every nerve in your body sends out pulsing shocks of agony. Just as the pain begins to subside, you feel someone strike you in the back, causing you to cringe tighter.

“Quiet beast,” a gruff voice orders from above you, “We’ll be there soon.” It sounds like another of Celestia guards. Oh great, they must want you alive for something. That cannot be good. You have a lot of questions, but you know they wouldn’t answer them even if you could speak, so you lie there in silence.

After roughly an hour, you feel your stomach shift as the transport pitches downward. Wait, you’re flying? How on Earth is that possible? With a sinking feeling, you remember that these ponies have actual magic to work with. They’re probably capable of anything.

A hard jarring thud signals that you must have landed. You can hear ponies moving around you as they disembark. In the distance, you hear the soft chirping of crickets and the faint hoot of an owl. You must have been knocked out all day.

“On your feet creature” A guard orders you from somewhere to you right. Despite your body’s aches, you shakily rise to your feet. The movement is slow and awkward, due both to the pain and because your arms are still shackled behind your back.

You took a few tentative steps forward, directed by spear prods from the unseen guards. You try to hurry as the guards become more forceful, but something catches on your feet. Without your arms to catch yourself, you fall forward onto your face into rough gravel. You groan in pain into your gag, you can already feel a few thin trickles of blood running dawn your face. A swift kick hits you in the side, knocking you over into the dirt.

“Get up! Stop wasting our time!” The guard roughly orders you, annoyance clear in his voice. You work your way back to your feet, and continue taking careful steps forward. You realize your ankles are also bound by a short length of chain, making long steps or running impossible. As you move forward, you notice the slight breeze die off as the air becomes slightly warmer. The ambience of the night is cut off as you walk onto something more smooth and solid under your feet. You must be inside. You can make out the soft, musty smell of books and ink. Did they take you to a library? You wish you could just see where you were.

“Where should we put these, ma’am?” You hear a second guard to your left speak up

“On the table is fine.” A familiar feminine voice responds, “I’ll get to studying them tomorrow.” You recognize that voice, It’s that unicorn from this morning, Twilight Sparkle. You guess this confirms Celestia has something planned for you, but what?

You hear a small clatter as something is set down nearby. Wait, you would know that sound anywhere, that was your quiver! Your bow is right over there! It’s so close it’s infuriating, but it might as well be miles away right now. If only you had that weapon…

“Keep moving” You’re ordered with another sharp prod in the back. You grimace and move forward blindly. You nearly stumble as your foot falls out beneath you, landing awkwardly slightly below where you though it would. After a few careful, experimental steps, you realize you’re on stairs. The air becomes noticeably cooler as you descend into what you guess is a basement. You hear two steps of horseshoes against the wooden surface behind you as the guard and Twilight follow you. At the bottom of the stairs, you’re directed a short distance across a room.

Abruptly, the guard orders you to stop moving and turn around. A sudden sharp pull on your manacles roughly forces you to sit on floor. You feel him working with the bindings behind your back for a few moments before he steps away.

“There we go, it won’t be going anywhere now.” He announces with pride

“Thank you sir,” Twilight responds, “I can take it from here.”

You hear the guard walk away, leaving you and twilight alone. You feel the tingling sensation of magic on your head as your blindfold is pulled away, the bright light momentarily blinding you. As you blink your vision clear, you see Twilight standing in front of you, her expression unreadable. The room you’re in is small, and completely bare. It looks like it’s just an empty storage room. The only feature you can see in a doorway behind Twilight. Strangely, the walls of the room seem to be intertwined with tree roots, but your thoughts are interrupted as Twilight begins to speak.

“I suppose you’re wondering why you’re even still alive at this point, after what happened this morning.” She states flatly, with little emotion in her voice, “At first, we were prepared to just execute you right there and be done with it.”

The way she said that sends chills down your spine. It was just so matter-of-factly, so flat. Did she really regard you so lowly that she cared so little whether you lived or died?

“But, I realized that if you were able to come to Equestria, intentionally or not, other humans could as well.” She continues, looking down at you, “I convinced Celestia to spare you, so that I could study your kind, learn your strengths and weaknesses, find what makes you ‘tick’.”

Oh great, so you were her scientific prisoner. She only kept you alive so she could pick you apart like a frog in a high school biology class. And as soon as she was done with you, it would be straight back to the chopping block. Twilight steps out through the door, pausing to look back at you

“We’ll get started first thing in the morning.”

With that, she closes the door, cutting off the light and plunging the room into total darkness.

Okay, you need to get out of here, now.

You try to stand, but the chain connected to your wrist is too short for you to rise completely, it’s barely a few feet in length. You blindly follow the chain with your hands along its length until you run into a smooth wall behind you. You can feel the chain is attached to a small iron ring embedded in the wall. Wrapping your hands around it, you pull as hard as you can, using your legs to push away from the wall. You struggle for several minutes, hoping for even the slightest sign of progress, but it’s in vain. The ring is too well embedded, and you can’t get a solid grip while your hands are bound behind you.

With a defeated sigh, you slump down against the wall, trying to think of some way you can get out of here. Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind. You just have nothing work with, no exits, no tools, no hope…

No! You can’t think like this. It’s not over until you give up. You’ll find a way out of here eventually, you have to. It’s not like the alternative is much of a choice.

You’re roused from your sleep by the muffled sounds of hoof steps on the stairs outside the door. Cringing from your stiff muscles, you slide back into a sitting position. That was probably the worst night of sleep in your life. Sleeping on the floor is hard enough, but with your hands bound behind you and the fear of impending experimentation? That’s nearly impossible. The gag has completely sucked any moisture from your mouth, leaving it dry, leathery, and filled with a foul taste.

 The door to your makeshift cell swings open, the light from outside painfully stinging your eyes. Twilight steps in, levitating a small plate and glass in her magical aura. Sitting down across from you, well out of the reach of your chain, she slides the two items over to you. The glass appears to be full of ordinary water, while the plate holds a small, simple loaf of bread. You stomach churns in anticipation at the sight of food, but how are you even supposed to eat this? You’re still gagged and bound. As if she could hear your thought, Twilight’s horn glows with magic. The binding on your right wrist snaps open, and your gag is undone by a telekinetic force. You run your tongue around your mouth, hoping to rinse out the foul taste of the gag as you attempt to roll the stiffness out of your pained wrist. You eye the food before you warily, despite the yearning in your gut. Could she have put something in there? A sedative, poison, or some other drug? Then again, she already has you locked up, why would she need to drug you? You shift your gaze back to Twilight, sitting on the floor. Even with one arm free, you couldn’t reach her. Escape won’t be that easy.

You finally give in to your hunger, snatching the simple loaf from the small plate. You bite into the hard outer crust, tearing off a mouthful. The bread inside is course, slightly stale, and wholly unappetizing, but you’ll take it. You make short work of the eager meal, and grab the glass of water. It may be warm, and not very refreshing, but at least it’s water. You finish the glass far more quickly than you would have liked, and set it back down next to the plate.

Twilight levitates the dishes away, and raises the gag back toward your head. You wrist is forced back into your binding as the foul cloth is stuffed back into your mouth. You try to turn away, but a second field holds your head firmly in place. Once you’re firmly bound once again, Twilight smiles at you

“Well then, let’s get started.”

She closes her eyes, her horn alighting in a strong aura. You cringe and turn away, expecting a spell to hit you at any moment. Seconds begin to tick by, and nothing seems to happen. You tentatively open your eyes, and see Twilight simply sitting there with her eyes closed, almost as if in meditation. Is she even casting a spell? Her horn is lit up, so she must be, but nothing seems to be happening.

Wait, you do feel something. There’s something in the back of your head, gently probing at your subconscious. It’s barely noticeable, it might just be your imagination but… no, it’s definitely there. What the heck is that? Is it getting stronger?

Suddenly, the small nudge transforming into a powerful spike, driving itself into your mind. You double over, screaming into your gag in pain. You focus on the invasive force, trying to mentally push the intrusion out of your head. Dammit, it’s her! It’s Twilight! She’s in your own damn mind!

You struggle and rage inside your own head, trying to force her back out, but it’s all in vain. She forces herself deeper with slow, brutal progress, despite your best effort to stop her. Brief images of old memories flash before your eyes in quick succession as she rifles through them. You glimpse the old cabin where you lived, your first birthday party, your old childhood friend, your… No,

Not that one.

 You won’t let her have that one.

You throw yourself into protecting that one memory with all your might, determined to keep her out of that singular part of your mind. For a few brief moments, you manage to keep her away and hold your ground. You feel Twilight’s presence recede, as if intrigued with your sudden change in focus. She hesitates for just a moment, before descending on your defense like an avalanche. You don’t even have time to react, your mental barriers are blown away in an instant as Twilight surges forward and tears open the memory.

You take a deep breath, tasting the cool crisp mountain air as you try to ease down your frustration. The air carries the faint smell of pine needles, and the aroma of a prepared meal from the cabin not far away. Behind you looms Heaven’s peak, its thick coating of tall pines turning the mountainside black in the sunset. A calm tranquility has fallen in the near dusk of the day, as the birds and animals retreat to their nests and dens for the coming night. You flex the fingers of your right hand, the tips red and sore to the touch, and try to roll the tension from your tense shoulders. Across a small clearing lies a single hay bale, a crude bulls-eye painted on its side. The dirt around it is peppered with arrows embedded at awkward angles, some even with broken shafts.

You can feel your frustration rise as you look at them. You’ve been at this all day, yet you haven’t landed a single hit. Lately you think you might actually be getting worse, at least a few hours ago you could actually hit the hay bale. You take another deep breath, forcing down your emotions as you remember what your father told you: ‘Archery is about focus, you have to stay calm. You can’t focus if you’re angry.’

Once you feel you’re under control again, your reach over your shoulder for your quiver, grabbing one of the arrows between your fingers. You fumble a bit as you nock it to the string of your bow, making sure the cock feather faces the correct way. Your father told you eventually you’d be able to knock the arrow correctly just by feeling it between your fingers, but you’re still a long way from that. You pull back the bow, the string painfully digging into your already bruised fingers. As you aim the bow down range, you mentally recite everything your father told you about the correct form.

‘Pull with your back, not your arms’

‘Keep your grip loose, let the bow rest in your hand’

‘Anchor your hand under your chin, tuck in your thumb’

‘Keep your fingers spaced, don’t squeeze the arrow’

‘Release the string smoothly, let it slide free from your fingers’

‘Finally, don’t force it. Let the shot come naturally. Trust your instincts.’

You mentally picture the arrow flying to the bulls-eye over and over, trying, hoping, begging, for just one solid hit. Before you can release, your strained fingers give out, the string awkwardly breaking from your grasp. You yelp in pain as the string slaps painfully against your forearm, adding another layer to the already thick bruise there from many similar accidents in the past. The arrow sails several feet above the target, flying into the thick brush beyond. You drop the bow, clutching your throbbing arm and biting back more cries of pain and anger. As the pain subsides, you finally let out a cry of pent up frustration. You’ve been at this for days, and still you’ve made no progress at all! You sit down on the ground, glaring at the target across from you, as if the blame for your failure could be leveled at it alone. Soon, the silence is broken by soft footsteps in the grass behind you. Even without looking, you recognize the gait and the sound, although there is really no other person it could be.

“Having some trouble sport?” he asks, his voice deep yet warm

“I hate archery Dad, all I end up doing is hurting myself. I’m never going to be good at it.” You answer, turning toward him. Even through his thick beard, you see him smile as he crouches down to you.

“It’s never hopeless until you give up.” he replies, placing his hand on your shoulder, “I know it’s hard, but these sort of things take time. Keep at it, and you’ll improve.”

“But why do I need to learn how to shoot a bow?” you ask, “Why can’t I just use a gun? It’s probably easier.”

Your father shakes his head, “That’s exactly the problem, it’s too easy. The gun does the work for you, but your need to do this yourself.” He crouches down next to you, looking into the setting sun. “This isn’t just about learning to shoot, it’s about self-reliance. You need to have confidence in your own abilities. If you let objects or people do things for you, you’ll grow to rely on them. You’ll be constrained by who and what are around you, and you’ll never be free to make your own choices.”

He turns toward you, his expression serious yet kind. “Listen to me Mark, you are in control of your own future. That freedom is the most precious thing you have. Never let anyone take it away from you, protect it at all costs. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it.”

“Good.” He replies, standing up. “Dinner should be ready in a few minutes, you want to come in?”

“Not yet.” You answer, picking up your bow, “I think I’ll stay out her a bit longer…”

 

 

Heel to toe…

Heel to toe…

Heel to toe…

You slowly move forward, placing each foot with extreme caution. The smallest rustle of leaves, or snap of a twig, would give you away instantly. Your breath fogs in front of you, the cold morning air not yet warmed by the slowly rising sun poking over the mountains. Above you, the first birds of the dawn begin to sing, their songs echoing throughout the treetops. Dew hangs on the bow gripped in your left hand, small droplets falling from the string with every step. A thin fog weaves between the trees as you creep forward, trying to keep your silhouette as small as possible.

Heel to toe…

Heel to toe…

Hell to toe…

After several minutes, you come across a small clearing in the woods. The morning sunlight pours in from the break in the canopy, brightly illuminating the small meadow within. In the center, a small buck wanders about, contently eating the thick dew laden grass. You can feel your heart quicken with excitement as you finally spot your quarry, but you force yourself to stay calm as you sneak into position. You move through the shadows of the branches above you, carefully using the brush to conceal yourself. The soft sound of each footstep causes you to cringe, certain any moment the buck would bolt and hours of patient work would be wasted.

 After what seems like hours, you finally reach a good shooting angle, the right side of the buck clearly visible. As you reach over your shoulder for an arrow, the sleeve of your jacket catches on a small branch, rustling the leaves. The buck’s head snaps up, quickly turning toward the noise. You freeze in place, heart pounding in your ears. You keep your eyes forward, unwilling to make even the slightest movement. The buck turns his head, warily looking around as his ears swivel, tuned to the slightest disturbance. After a few moments, he lowers his head, returning to graze on the thick grass. You slowly release a breathe you didn’t realize you were holding, and pull the arrow from your quiver. You shift into a kneeling stance as you nock the arrow to the bowstring, keeping your eyes on the buck. You pull back the string, muscles in your back tightening as the arrows slides across the wooden surface. You hold for a few moments, keeping in mind what your father told you, ‘Don’t force it, fire when it feels natural.’ Just as the moment feels right, you relax your fingers, letting the string slide free from your grasp.

Even before the arrows struck, you knew the shot was perfect. The arrows embeds itself just above the bucks’ calf, right in his heart.  He leaps up in surprise, jerking lightly in midair, before collapsing in a heap on the forest floor. The buck lies completely still, the forest turning silent from the sudden disturbance. You stand still for a few moments, before jumping into the air with a whoop of joy. You did it! You got your first kill! You actually did it! Weeks and weeks of practice have finally paid off! You step into the clearing, a giddy smile forming on your face as you inspect your kill. It wasn’t an impressive buck, he was still young and a bit small, but to you he looks like a gold medal. As you crouch down next to the animal, you realize something, this is the first thing you’ve ever done completely by yourself. You succeeded because of your own strength and determination. A strong sense of pride grows in your chest from the thought. If you can do this, you can do anything. You are in control of your own life, not anyone else. The pride in your chest solidifies into a feeling of pure confidence and joy. Is this the freedom your father was telling you about? It must be. You hold the feeling tight to your heart, determined to never let it go, no matter what. Your destiny is in your own hands, and nobody is going to take that from you Moments of self-realization aside, you need to get to work cleaning this thing. Slinging your bow over your shoulder, you slide a skinning knife free form your belt. You whistle as you get to work, beginning the messy process of gutting the buck.

 

Your vision slowly returns as the memory fades away, your body coming back under your control. Twilight is still sitting across from you, the glow of her horn quickly dissipating as she opens her eyes. You glare at her, trying to convey all your hatred and rage through your eyes as you sit there, seething with fury. She just forced herself into your mind, the most private and sacred place a being has, and rifled through it like a photo album. That memory was your most precious. It was the day you seized control of your life. It was the day that made you the man you are today. She had no right to see it. No damn right at all. Twilight meets your gaze, her expression twisted in disgust. She promptly stands up, turning away and walking toward the door. She stops on the other side, turning to look back at you.

“You’re revolting.”

She slams the door shut, plunging the room into darkness.