Wander for long enough, and it will find you, for the forest hungers just as every living thing does. There are many different tales told by many different tongues. Each carries a measure of the truth, muddied though it becomes in the telling. Many are kind enough, speaking of the healer who came for four months to tend the ill, asking only a small fee, or of the mysterious adventurer who could locate anything or anyone with a few words. Some talk of a fae being, a benign entity of a magical fo...

Another turn, another wall of thorns. Another path that leads nowhere. By now, Mirror has grown to expect it. She turns back the way she came without so much as a sigh to show her discontent. The warm summer air is bordering on stifling, now, with the thick sweater that hangs almost to the forest floor on her thin frame. Mirror is drowsy, and separately, she is tired. Tired of seeking a way out of her own home. Drowsy from the lull of crickets, little light, and warmth. The thought of laying ...

I never thought myself a writer. In truth, I never thought myself expressive at all. In being alone I forgot, perhaps, what it was to have someone to whom a fleeting moment may be explained, to be understood. Pen and paper make poor substitute for the beloved, but they are all that is left to me here, and so I shall write. Not a week may go by without that awful thought. It plagues me day and night, an abyss that I should jump into by ever entertaining, and somehow a siren’s call that I long ...

Mirror rose before the sun. She had not slept, not really, and every part of her ached… but going back to bed would be futile. Her reality felt so surreal that a dream would have been a reprieve, had the universe deigned to allow her one. Weary in every sense of the word, she made the trek to her mirror, where she picked up a makeup brush and looked into the mirror. Her eyes flicked over each feature with increasing confusion. The features refused to resolve into a face - there was one eye, a...

At first, Mirror hardly noticed the frequency of Faith’s trips into town. She herself was rather indisposed, and so it only made sense that Faith would go instead for food and other necessities. When she did notice it, well - it was easier to pretend she hadn’t. If she had failed to notice these trips, she had no cause to wonder at the reason behind them, and no cause to look over her shoulder in fear of what Faith might be planning. Her mind seemed unable to lay the issue at rest. Despite her ...

Crystalline water. Grass so green it looked almost fake. Sunlight streaming in through the trees and playing through it all. The clearing had not changed since Faith had left it, that fateful day, and she went still staring around at where she had lived for twelve years. Mirror stepped past her. She fit perfectly into the magical place. Her mane was tied back in braids, but it still glittered and shone in the light - like glass, Faith thought. It was one of those moments that made her heart t...

“Now, my precious little flower, you must stay here and stay quiet. Do you understand? This is very important. I love you more than anything in the world.” “I love you too, mum,” Hebe whispered, confused and frightened, but always obedient. The door shut. She sat huddled in her parents’ closet on the floor, in the dark. Muffled voices came from downstairs. Two were harsh and stern, two defensive, and then came a fifth voice that had a distinctly pompous air to it. She heard her name. Pressing ...

It was just late enough that Mirror had returned from the woods, but not quite late enough to end the day and go to bed. The clock kept ticking every so often, infuriatingly slow, to signify the marching of time, and that made for the only sound in the cottage. When it had begun to grow colder, the crackling of a fire joined it, and bathed the lower floor in a rosy glow. Light rain fell outside. ...

East of the Wandering Woods and North of the Jackalope Slopes lies a small town, named for a brook which runs to one side and provides the water this town needs to survive. Buttercup Brook and Buttercup Grove are perhaps the most fairytale-esque part of Equestria, secluded from every major city and kingdom, and even with their very own witch. She is not a wicked witch. Her alignment is parallel to good, yet rather unlawful. At this moment, she is the closest the town has to a doctor, and she st...

Blood is thicker than water. The full quote reads, “the blood of the coven is thicker than the water of the womb” and is rather misrepresented. In this case, however, the shortened version is the more apt choice. This is the case of Winter Rose, better known as Blind Faith, whose loyalty is swayed in the passing of a strong breeze. She longs to be better than she is, yet falls short of every opportunity that might make it so. At this moment in time, her fickle nature has lead her to a high sec...

There was no way to know for certain how long it had been since the pegasus had been apprehended. Locked in a horribly cramped room with no window and with bright lights on at all hours, Faith's only measurement of time came every few days when she was held down by several guards and the IV that slowly fed her just enough liquid to survive on was replaced. She was exhausted, yet unable to sleep for more than moments at a time, for fear of losing the precious time she needed to plan an escape. ...

Greenery on all sides soon gave way to the familiar clearing which housed the cottage Mirror called home, and she made her way to the door, face set with determination and head held high. The illusion of confidence provided her with just enough real confidence that when she pushed open that door and stepped inside, she really was ready to confront Faith. She had practiced in her mind exactly what she would say. But Faith was not there. A quick glance confirmed that. No lights were on in any roo...