Sometimes Drifter thought the forest shook.

He couldn’t exactly explain why he thought it shook; after all, he was a Pegasus, unknowing of the way the ground and the soil worked, not like his friend, Quicksilver, but that fact didn’t bother him at all. Drifter loved being a pegasus—Leave the ground workings to the earth ponies, he thought.

But there was no evidence, nothing real or substantial enough to pinpoint and make his idea valid, but still he felt the shaking every so often and often enough that he asked his friend about it.

“Earth ponies are supposed to feel the ground moving, right? Or they’re supposed to feel the earth move.”

“Yes,” Quicksilver said.

“Don’t you feel the ground shaking sometimes? Near the forest?”

His friend would stand still, his hooves firmly planted on the floor and wait and watch. “No.”

“You don’t feel the trees shaking? Not even a little?”

“No. Why?”

He didn’t bother answering.

But sometimes he’d wake up right before dawn, with woodland creatures scurrying about for provisions and farmers rousing up early to take care of the day’s work, sweeping through the air for a brisk morning flight. He’d pause midair, looking westward at the ghostly clutter of evergreens, and feel a steady pulsing in the open space near the trees, as if he was dipping his hands into the clockworks of a buzzing ocean. Or sometimes, after delivering and positioning a steady bundle of rain clouds above the farmer-laid patches of dirt, he’d drop down to survey the skies and thought he’d feel the floor thumping, a low muffling as if there were a giant groundhog scuttling under him.

They weren’t near any volcanoes and according to Quicksilver whatever he was feeling were not quakes. Quakes were sudden and erratic. They did not pulse as though it were a steadily moving.

As though it were agitated.

As though it were alive.

And even now, soaring in the sky, eyes skimming the horizon, he felt it: there was a pulsing in the air, in the trees, in tune with the pulsing of his heart.

But he just let it be.

Besides, if the forest actually shook, wouldn’t everypony have noticed? Wouldn’t anypony have said anything?

“Hey, Drifter!” a voice from below called to him. Drifter looked down and saw Quicksilver giving him a smug grin. His ashen coat stood out amongst the greeneries surrounding him. “You’re cheating!”

“What, you expected me to look down there with you? No thanks. I’m happy up here,” he laughed.

“Fine. Anyways, I’ll find one before you,” he called and galloped further ahead.

Drifter soared higher. His eyes scoped around, ignoring the forest teeming to his left, focusing only on the grassy plains near him. Finally, what seemed to be a white branch caught his eye and he dove as fast as a falcon. He stomped down, flattening the dry meadow during his landing, and he quickly took the bleached item in his hoof.

He was still scrutinizing the piece when he heard the shuffle of hooves against the grass. When the pony caught up to his side, Drifter turned, lifting the object towards him, his face beaming.

“Hah! Found one!” Drifter said, ignoring the Quicksilver’s glowered expression as the earth pony took it in his hooves. It was a sturdy deer antler, twisted so that four branches stuck out, each branch adorned with a fine point. “That’s the beauty of being a pegasus.”

“Ah, shut up already, cheater.”

“Loser has to carry it.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

They headed downhill, treading inside a cavernous ravine, entering the forest territory. A steady stream flowed and they casually followed it, their eyes open for their next search, this time for obsidian stones. Overhead on the cliffs, the forest loomed above them. Drifter kept his eyes on the water as well as the woodlands. He felt anxious, though he didn’t know why.

Quicksilver’s voice nearly startled him. “Did you tell them yet?”

Drifter met his friend’s knowing stare, and then let his eyes fall back on the water’s surface. “No.”

“You should tell them already.”

He said nothing.

“It doesn’t matter how or when; you’ll break their heart no matter what. Best do it now than later."

“Yeah, gods, I know that already…” He brushed the uncomfortable thoughts aside. “What about you? You tell yours?”

“Not yet.” He scratched his chin. “It’s good money, but my ma won’t accept the idea I won’t join just ‘cause I don’t like them."

“Because they’re unicorns?”

“No. It’s just…”

“Don’t lie.”

“No. I mean, I admit, unicorns are…strange; their magic is strange. My ma and pa for sure told me to stay away from them.”

“And yet, despite all that magic riffraff, now they want you to join the mining company.”

“It is good money. And ma’s smitten with their leader, Slate. Listens to ever dang word that comes out of his mouth. She’s even corralled my pa to listen to him.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry one bit about putting food on the table.” Drifter picked up a rock, not attempting to skip it, but rather trying to make splashes. “And maybe your ma just wants a nice diamond, that’s all.”

“I know they said they’re looking for earth ponies, but still…I don’t like ‘em.”

“Yeah. Honestly, I don’t like them too.”

“We found this land. We built this town. And then they set their hooves here and start digging wherever their horns lead ‘em. It, it isn’t right.”

“But then isn’t that—”

A yell resounded from the distance, a harsh cry echoing through the ravine.

Drifter and Quicksilver looked at one another, both alarmed. They immediately glanced around, and as Quicksilver dashed along the ravine, Drifter took flight, soaring higher and higher, eyes focusing every which way, trying to find the source of the shout.

At the edge of the ravine, he saw a cream-colored stallion kneeling next to the skinny water.

“Over there!” Drifter called out, pointing toward the end of the cliffs.

The two locked onto the stallion and ran. Drifter squinted his eyes; the stallion seemed familiar.

Is that…

“Is that Beanstalk?” Quicksilver asked.

The stallion was washing his hooves in the river, and when they drew closer, they could see him wincing.

“Beanstalk?” Drifter said. “What are you doing here?” Beanstalk stood on the bank of the stream, kneeling against the water’s edge, staring into the reflections. He looked up and spotted them, and Drifter saw him jump and quickly looked back towards the cliff sides as if a manticore were a ways behind him.

“Quicksilver. Drifter.” He nodded towards them, his eyes tightening towards Drifter. “I, uh, didn’t realize I had company.”

“We didn’t realize you took a stroll up here in the forest,” Drifter said.

“We heard a yell,” Quicksilver added.

“I was…studying the stream,” Beanstalk said.

“And what, nearly drowned?” Drifter asked.

“What happened to your hoof?” Quicksilver’s eyes were scrutinizing the sullen pony.

“Just a rock scrape; it’s nothing serious.”

“It looks pretty bad.”

“It’s nothing!” Beanstalk stood up and shook his hoof, expelling excess water. “Anyways, how do you two fare?”

“We’re looking for obsidian.” Drifter said, his hoof pointing to the prize resting on Quicksilver’s back. “I’m gonna make us some spears. Kill that stupid draconequus and be a hero of Equestria.”

Beanstalk muttered something, and the rolling of his eyes didn’t escape Drifter’s gaze. Drifter felt his nostrils flaring.

“What did you say?

“You make light of the draconequus. This new land is in a serious state right now. You joke around about being a hero, but you don’t realize how powerful he is.”

“Are you afraid of the draconequus?” Drifter taunted.

“You should be afraid. Don’t you know the Three Tribes have been discussing this issue for months? He could be hiding anywhere, especially since ponies are now scattered all over this land. No one knows what he wants or what he’s capable of. And haven’t you heard the rumors of the dark magic way up in the northern mountains?”

“Do you think I’m not serious about this? I’m enlisting in Commander Hurricane’s guard.”

“Playing soldier isn’t a game.”

“Of course it’s not a game! Any foal knows that. But I’m planning to get out of this forsaken town and actually do something. I’m going to actually make a difference. What are you doing, farmer? Planting daisies and pansies?”

A flash stirred in Beanstalk’s eyes. He stepped toward Drifter, their shoulders nearly touching. Before either of them could move another hoof, Quicksilver’s hoof draped Drifter’s neck and pushed him back.

“Stop. Both of you. Come on Drifter, let’s go.”

Drifter didn’t budge.

“You know the whole town thinks you’re crazy. No one knows where you’re going, but here you are, watching the water like some…troll.”

“Drifter.”

“Other ponies are saying you’re out here sleeping with the timberwolves—”

“Stop, Drifter.”

“And everyone knows you’re a—”

Beanstalk bucked him. Immediately, Drifter got up, galloping toward Beanstalk and kicked him back. The earth pony stumbled back, swiveling, and tried to hit him with his hind legs but missed. Quicksilver attempted to grab Drifter, but the pegasus pushed forward, using his wings for balance, and with a free hoof hit Beanstalk in the face, a defining crack sounding. The earth pony fell, his bag slipping off of him, his eyes unfocused and unsure. Drifter jumped and stood over Beanstalk. The earth pony was sprawled on his back and he tried to shove Drifter, but Drifter pressed his head against the dirt.

“Get off of me you birdbrain! Gods, get off!”

“What is this?” Quicksilver asked, picking a shiny object off of the ground.

Seeing the object in question, Beanstalk yelled, “Don’t touch that!” He pushed Drifter again. “By the gods, get off of me!” After a minute of Beanstalk thrashing about, Drifter finally complied. He flew up and Beanstalk stood, trotting towards Quicksilver.

“Give it back,” he demanded.

“What is it?” Quicksilver asked. He held the object up toward the sun; it was smooth and spherical, glistening with eight cuts extending from a circular center. Unlike a diamond, there was no point, no tip, and was instead level on both ends. Quicksilver whistled.

“Just give it here,” Beanstalk's voice was wavered.

“Did you cut your hoof on this?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It looks like a snowflake. Or a diamond. Ma would definitely love this.”

“Maybe the miners know what type of gemstone this is,” Drifter joked.

“No! Y-You can’t tell the miners about this!”

The two glanced at him, suspicious.

“Why not?”

His eyes darted between them.

“I, uh, found it on the riverbanks.” He looked down as if recalling something. “You tell the miners and they’ll go scouting, looking for more places to dig.”

“I want one of these,” Quicksilver said absently.

“So what if they go scouting? That’s their job, isn’t it? To look for diamonds?” Drifter said.

“I don’t want to be disturbed.” Beanstalked started to stretch his hooves.

“Why not?”

“I’m studying the stream, remember?”

“That’s a lie. I bet you’re looking for more diamonds, huh?”

“I am not!”

“Why didn’t I think of that, Silver? If I find all these diamonds, I could afford to fly out of here and make a living elsewhere!” He paused, relishing the thought. “I bet there are diamonds lying all around here, waiting to be found!”

And with that he took to the skies, darting deeper into the ravine, ignoring the cries of the two earth ponies. He flew through the narrow reaches, swerving through the cracked layers of rock, until he spotted what seemed to be a cave in the distance. Suddenly, his heart pulsed. He felt the trees…beating.

Drifter made a gradual descent and looked around. Above the cliffs, the evergreens swayed, sounding almost like whispers. The breeze caressed his face, feeling as cool as ice, but it also tugged at him, almost pushing him into the cave. Not too far away, he could still hear the echoed calls behind him, but rather than wait for the others, he decided to walk toward the cavity despite the fact that there could be bears or some other ominous creature lurking inside.

The cave was dark, surrounded by vines, shrubs, and other greeneries, but he heard a buzzing in the distance, and he felt the pulse hammering ever so softly. Suddenly, there was a light up ahead, and he trotted toward it. A yell inside the cave informed him that Quicksilver and Beanstalk had caught up.

“I’m right he—”

He was about the yell back, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. As he reached what he thought was the cave’s peculiar exit, was a crystal white tree, massive, huge, and glowing. On its branches were the gemstones that Beanstalk had possessed and it hung like sconces on a chandelier, dangling and swaying in the breeze. There were additional colored gemstones also hanging on the tips like fruit. The last thing he noticed were other intricate designs carved into its bark: a sun, a moon, and in the center of it all some sort of star.

His hoof reached out to grab one of the jewels.

“Be careful,” Beanstalk called out. Drifter had been too busy staring at the tree that he didn’t notice Beanstalk at his side.

“What…what is it?”

“It’s a tree.” Beanstalk nodded, his face contemplative.

“Really?” Both Quicksilver and Drifter gave him a deadpanned stare.

“It’s a magical tree. I don’t know. I’ve been studying it.”

They stared at it, wondering.

“And what have you figured out?”

“Nothing. I know absolutely nothing. But it’s magical. And it’s definitely not pony magic.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure…” Drifter said.

“Please, don’t tell anypony about it. This tree, this tree is special and who knows what will happen if
other ponies find it.”

“You don’t like the miners too, huh?” Drifter snickered.

“No. I don’t."

Drifter and Quicksilver looked at each other and nodded.

“Yeah, alright,” Drifter said.

“But I still want one of those things for my ma.”

---

It was a tentative friendship, built on mistrust, apprehension, and a kindled admiration for a massive crystallized tree-like entity.

Honestly, Drifter didn’t like hanging out with Beanstalk. He was…different. Not like the rest of the stallions; he preferred to be by himself, and he was always looking around at one thing or another, studying the leaves or the rocks or the trees. He wasn’t outspoken at all, and when he was with other ponies, he seemed uncomfortable, wanting to go off somewhere by himself. Before this accidental discovery, Drifter thought that Beanstalk had always seemed nervous or concerned about something else. But perhaps it was the tree that he was thinking about.

Certainly, ever since he and Quicksilver had stumbled in the cave, he found that the tree occupied most of his thoughts, and along with Quicksilver, the two of them with Beanstalk made weekly visits to examine it, or at least, Quicksilver used to. Drifter was reminded of Quicksilver’s absence. He had given in to Beanstalk’ request and did not take a gemstone to his mother; instead he brought her news of his unforeseen refusal to work for the company. He had given a stoic explanation which was followed by an argument, one that ended in shouts and cries. It was in his mother’s tears that Quicksilver finally relented and right now, Drifter didn’t know if he was training with the company or if he was plowing the fields.

So it was the two of them, Beanstalk and Drifter, as of late, and the pegasus would listen to his friend—he supposed they were friends now—drone on and on about his discoveries, discoveries few and inconclusive. But as he thought about it more and listened to Beanstalk’s words, he finally understood—it wasn’t the forest that was shaking, it was this tree.

“Earth pony magic does nothing. And pegasi magic doesn’t work either,” Beanstalk explained, carefully probing a fallen bark with a hoof fork. Drifter sat on a rock, carefully studying his pile of obsidians on the floor. He picked one up and started polishing and sharpening it as Beanstalk continued to circle the tree.

“We need a unicorn.”

“There are no other unicorns except Shaft and his company,” Drifter said;

“What about Signal Beam?”

“What, that old hag who lives by the waterwheel? She’s always looking at herbooks and stuff. Making maps or scribbling notes, and she hates all of us; she’s always glaring at everypony.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate us...” Beanstalk pouted.

“She doesn’t have any friends except for those doves of hers. The pony’s a lunatic; she’ll tell everypony about this place.”

Beanstalk didn’t say anything. After a minute of silence, Drifter finally looked up and saw Beanstalk deep in thought, almost grimacing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“One of the miners was looking at me suspiciously,” Beanstalk said.

“No offense, but everypony thinks you’re suspicious.”

“No. I think he saw me when I was washing the gemstone a couple of stone throws away from here, down by the river. I think he saw the gemstone.”

Drifter narrowed his eyes. “You better be careful then. As long as they tell that gem finder—Alloy, I think that’s his name—he’ll be able to find anything.”

“Yeah. I’ll watch out.”

---

It was late when he arrived at his house, a wooden long cabin, a humble cottage situated about a mile away from the pitched up miner tents and a distance away from most of the earth ponies. Sometimes he missed his cloud home. Before the great Equestrian Passage several years ago, he and his parents lived in the skies with the other pegasi tribes, but the horrendous weather changed all of that.

He along with his parents and other pegasi were part of the scores of ponyfolk making their way west, trying to establish themselves in the new world, readying to create a new foundation. Most the pegasi tribe opted to follow Commander Hurricane westward, but when Drifter’s father fell behind because of his trench wing, Drifter and his family were forced to leave the tribe, and go on hoof, following miles of grassy ravaging untamed earthen grounds. By chance, they happened upon caravans of Earth ponies, also heading westward, and with a little luck, good humor, and their wings, were warmly welcomed into their pioneering family.

It was at that time that Drifter met Quicksilver and immediately they bonded like brothers, and though Beanstalk was in their midst, traveling somewhere with them, he didn’t actually meet the other earth pony until they were situated in their makeshift town.

Drifter pushed open the door, a finished spear settled on his wingtips, the obsidian rock glowing. He made for his room, but was surprised when he found his father in his room, scrutinizing his weapons.

“Colt,” his voice was hard, stern. “What’d I tell you about brandishing weapons in this household?”

“Pa—”

“You like swinging that thing around your head like that? For all the ponies to see?”

“No, pa. I was just making them. The blacksmith—”

“You’re making friends with the blacksmith now?”

“What?”

“I heard you were hanging out with that stallion again.”

“Who?”

“Pea Pod’s son. That farm pony. Beanstalk.”

“He’s helping me,” was all that Drifter could say.

“Helping you what, eh? Don’t lie to me, colt!” he picked up one of Drifter’s spear. “Are you two…spearing each other?”

“Gods! Don’t be ridiculous, pa!”

“Don’t you talk back to me! I don’t want you hanging around him too much. What he has could be contagious.”

“I’m not gonna be like him.”

“Of course you’re not. I raised you better than that. If I hear you hanging around that stallion again—”

“Beanstalk isn’t trouble, pa.”

“No. But you’ll be the trouble if you keep rustling with him and trottin’ outside, spear in hand like a killer. Is that what you want to be, eh? A killer?” He pushed a hoof against Drifter’s chest, his eyes menacing and dark.

“I want to be a solider!” Drifter said as defiantly as he could.

Drifter glared back as his father minced Drifter's words over in his mind. Finally, he said slowly, “Is that what you’ve been planning, colt?”

“I want to enlist in Commander Hurricane’s army. He’s looking for good soldiers. The draconequus—”

“Enough! You want to deal with the draconequus, fine. But don’t you go hanging with that earth pony, you hear?” He walked toward the door, hovering at the entrance and Drifter felt his eyes blazing at his father’s. “You want to be a killer, colt?” He asked, “Go ahead.”

He didn’t close the door as he left.

---

There was a banging outside, hooves beating the wooden frame.

The first thing Drifter noticed when he opened the door, besides the sunlight striking his face and stinging his sight, was Beanstalk’s face: pallid, white, and sweaty. The earth pony opened his mouth to speak, but instead let out a tiny squall, “Did you say anything?!”

“What?”

“The tree!” he said and immediately, Drifter‘s heart felt like glass cracking. “Did you say anything?”

“Of course I didn’t. Why…”

“The miners. The town. They know. My father told me.”

“Quicksilver,” Drifter said and the two of them broke into a sprint.

Quicksilver’s house was vacant, so they rushed to the town square, but it was empty. Immediately, they found an old mare, nestling some flowers near the farmlands. Drifter tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

“Ma’am, what happened to everypony?”

“Eh? By the gods, you scared me. They’ll all down by that magic tree."

“The magic tree?” Beanstalk asked.

“Everypony in town’s talking about it by now. The miners found the tree out near the ravine. Now they want to mine it, but the mayor says it’s the town’s property. They want to harvest it.”

“Harvest it!” Beanstalked balked.

“The mayor’s saying all this nonsense that earth ponies could be like unicorns. Like we could have magic, real magic.”

“T-That’s not possible,” Drifter said.

“Well I told them that. They aren’t listening.”

“Where are they? Where is everypony?”

“They’ll all down by river, probably talking about the tree and figuring out what to do with it.

“We need to stop them,” Beanstalk said.

“But what can we do about it? We don’t even know what that thing is. It’s out of our hooves now, Bean,” Drifter said. He felt his ears flattening.

“No! I won’t let them take it.”

“What are you colts yapping on about?” the old mare asked. She had started grabbing a bunch of weeds with her teeth and spit them next to her basket.

“N-Nothing. Thank you, ma’am,” Beanstalk said and started trotting toward the forest.

“If you ask me, I think it’s best if we destroy it!”

They ignored her and galloped on, trotting until they reached the cliff sides. From where they stood they could see the entrance and the mass of ponies surrounding the caves. The voices escalated as they grew closer. A slightly shorter cyan-colored stallion with a scale adorning his flank stood on a collection of crates, and a crowd of several farm ponies and miners surrounded him. Voices boomed. Yelling commenced. Drifter looked around to see if Quicksilver was among the ponyfolk gathered, but though he could see many miner ponies, he couldn’t find his friend.

“Now, now, settle down,” the mayor said. He tried to compensate for his stubby legs by elongating his neck. With the way he was yelling, Drifter could see the veins popping out.

“Mr. Mayor, clearly, we had some sort of misunderstanding. You see, this town never specifically claimed this land. No one’s claimed anything yet. I think now is the time we should start dividing our portions,” a stallion replied. Drifter immediately recognized Slate’s voice, but even if he didn’t recognize his voice, he could still spot him a mile away from the skies. He was a red unicorn with mane as black as soot. Drifter considered him a proud pony, but generous with his ponykind. He was the current leader of the Shaft Mining Company.

“Portions? Now you misunderstand us here, Slate. We’ve welcomed you folks in. We’ve treated you like our own. This town shares everything and this tree here should be no different.”

There were yells of affirmation in the air.

One pony however cried, “But it’s not pony magic! It’s dangerous!”

“It’s evil!” another pony screamed.

“It’s from the gods. The alicorns above have blessed us."

“Maybe this can turn us into alicorns!”

More cries commenced and the mayor hushed them again.

“Now look, we don’t know for sure if it’s magical. Nopony has seen anything. Right, Slate?”

“My stallions didn’t detect any strange magic or magical waves ever since they stepped hoof into the cave yesterday,” he said.

“Yesterday!” Beanstalk mumbled. “It was probably after we left.”

Was it you, Silver? Drifter couldn’t help but wonder. He looked around, trying to spot his friend, but there were too many ponies.

“But getting to the heart of the matter, Mr. Mayor, I think since we found it, it should belong to the company.”

“This land isn’t yours Slate. Your miners can’t just dig wherever they want.”

“Clearly, we need to establish some boundaries in this town.”

“I think we need to set a truce here,” the mayor said and Slate looked at him, then back at the tree. He huddled over his team, whispered something to them and smiled. Then he trotted over to the mayor, taking his hoof in his. “Sure, Mr. Mayor. We can discuss the terms and sign a contract in a few days.”

“Now that sounds fine.”

“No! No!” somepony was saying. “We have to destroy it! This tree is evil!”

“The alicorns gave it to us!”

“Beware!”

“Simmer down everypony!” The mayor yelled once more. The discussions continued and all the while, Drifter and Beanstalk listened as they made plans for mining the tree or using unicorn power to draw the tree’s “power,” but more importantly, they heard the arguments against the tree.

The ponies were afraid.

Where did the tree come from? Why was it here? What did it do? And were there more trees like this around Equestria?

Everypony gave their two bits and from what he noticed, Drifter thought that most of the earth ponies wanted to leave the tree alone and most of the miners, the unicorns, wanted to cut the tree down and get its gems. The pegasi were indifferent, mainly because there were only a hoofull of them around. And still, others wanted to destroy it.

“It shouldn’t be here,” one pony mumbled to himself. He looked at Drifter with crazed eyes. “It needs to go.”

“Look, we’ll discuss this more in the morning. For now, we’ll each have four ponies watch the tree and make sure that no vagabonds get to it,” the mayor finished. Two earth ponies and two unicorns stood watch as the majority of the townsponies dissembled and soon, Drifter and Beanstalk found Quicksilver standing next to the other miners, a pickaxe resting on his belt.

“What kind of magic is it, Slate?” a unicorn was asking.

“I’m not sure…” Slate said and quieted as the two of them approached.

“Beanstalk. Drifter. May I help you?”

“We wanted to talk to Quicksilver,” Drifter said. Slate nodded at the newest addition to his miner family and Quicksilver trotted off.

“Hey you two,” he said tiredly.

Beanstalk jumped on him. “Was it you? Did you—”

“I didn’t! Gods, believe me!”

The farmer eyed the earth pony suspiciously until the miner sighed. “Slate. Something’s up with him, definitely. I don’t know what exactly, so I can’t say.”

“Do you think he’s going to try to mine the tree?”

“He might. But honestly, how do you mine a tree? And not just any tree, but a crystal tree? Slate thinks the unicorns can use their magic, but the mayor’s not letting them; he has his two watch guards keeping track of them in case Slate does something sneaky.”

“So what do you think we should do?”

“What else can we do?” Beanstalk shrugged and nodded back at Slate who had motioned for him. “We just have to wait.”

“But for what?” Drifter asked.

All three stood there, glancing at one another. After scratching his chin, Quicksilver sighed. “We wait until somepony figures out what that tree is.”

---

The next few days passed uneventfully. The town meetings always ended up in arguments, each side tearing up the contract that the other had written up. Day after day, Drifter passed the time making spears or pushing clouds. He woke. He slept.

And deep in the night, sometimes he thought he could feel the tree moving anxiously as if it were waiting for someone. He’d wake up and then go back to sleep, feeling the wind caress his face right before the dreams took him.

Drifter was used to the sounds of the wind; the way the wind cut through, sometimes slicing during a frost storm or sometimes sluggish and dewy when it was a fog or perhaps the sounds of drops multiplying, culminating, a slow steady buildup of rain. He was used to the wind, the sounds and the smells, but he wasn’t used to the smoke.

The fire started suddenly, smoke rising through the air, drifting through the open windows of Drifter’s house. He got up quickly, looked out his window and saw the orange lightning the sky like the circus. He flew to his parents, first shaking his mother, then his father and together all three rushed out.

“We need to head to the stream. Make some rain clouds!” his father commanded. Drifter nodded and made for the stream while his mother and father ran to alert other ponies of the sporadic flames.

It didn’t help that the wind was intensifying.

He readied his wings for takeoff, but a voice called his name.

“Drifter!”

“Quicksilver? Where did this fire come from?”

“I don’t know, but there’s also smoke rising in the ravine.”

“Somepony purposely did this?”

“I don’t know, but Beanstalk went to the tree.”

Drifter paused, his thoughts racing. “We have to take care of the fire here first! It’s destroying the whole village!”

Quicksilver nodded and the both ran to the stream. He collected water in a bucket and the earth ponies made a conveyor belt, passing the bucket one by one to each pony, focusing on a single house at a time. Next to him, Drifter formed a cloud with his magic, using the water from the stream and condensing it into a single darkened raincloud, pushing water in it until it could fill no more. He flew up above the flames with the cloud in his hooves and jumped, dousing the flames with the water, hopefully catching any freelance embers. Up with him were the other pegasi, including his mother. His father however aided the earth ponies.

When the flames were dying, the two snuck off, and headed for the tree, but not before Drifter grabbed one of his spears, placing it in his mouth and zooming to the ravine.

---

The forest was on fire.

The trees that surrounded the caves were blazing and black smoke was everywhere, festering, bubbling, and building a monstrous midnight mass.

Drifter and Quicksilver tried to look for around for Beanstalk. They saw miner ponies bucking other townsfolk who had also rushed to the tree, other miner ponies arguing with each other, and ponyfolk collapsed throughout the area, either bleeding, burned, or…

“What the hay happened here?!” Drifter yelled. They ran to one of the fallen ponies, but she was dead, collapsed in the stream. They ran to another pony screaming about his burns. The two tried to drag him to the water, but he was screaming nonetheless and in the end, fell unconscious.

As they reached the cave, the smoke poured out into the surrounding area, up the cliffs, bathing the trees in their hazy wash. They ran inside, twisting and turning until they saw two figures near the tree: Slate and Beanstalk. Slate was wielding his pickaxe, readying to chop the tree.

“You’re an earth pony. You know nothing of magic, colt.”

“I know about this tree! I’ve been studying far longer than you have!”

“Oh really? Enlighten me! Show me what it does, eh?” he swing his pickaxe into the tree. It gonged and they felt the cave move.

“Stop it!” Beanstalk cried.

“He’s right, Slate! This tree shouldn’t be tempered with!” Quicksilver yelled.

“Guys, we have to get out of here!” Drifter said, noticing the smoke rising. The fire was surrounding them.

Slate ignored him, smashing his axe into the tree a second time, hitting the sun pattern and once again, the cave shook.

“I said, stop it!”

When Slate brought down his axe a third time, Beanstalk jumped on him. They rolled on the floor and immediately, Drifter ran to them, trying to grab Slate’s head and in response, Slate fired a beam from his horn. It hit the tree and the tree glowed.

All three of them stopped moving. The tree lit up, then grew faint.

“I knew it needed unicorn magic!” Slate said, but before he could fire another beam, Drifter grabbed him again. The three ponies wrestled on the ground. Drifter felt Slate conjur up another beam; he aimed for the tree and fired.

But Beanstalk jumped. And the shot hit him right in the chest.

The earth pony fell. Drifter yelled and flew towards him.

“Don’t move!” Slate cried, his beam pointing toward Drifter. The pegasus was paralyzed, unable to even help his fallen friend.

Suddenly, Slate grunted. His eyes rolled back and he collapsed against the tree.

Quicksilver was behind him, the pickaxe in his mouth.

“Grab Beanstalk,” he said.

Then the two rushed out, the unconscious Beanstalk draped over Quicksilver.

“I’ll get him back and tell the other ponies what happened; you look for survivors,” he said and gave Drifter a quick hug before galloping away.

Drifter looked around, his eyes searching; he could feel the pulsing in the air, feel the smoke devouring every clean thing in his sight, and strangely, he could still feel the forest shaking. Not just the tree, but the whole forest. But perhaps that was because he was dizzy. Perhaps he had breathed in too much smoke. And it was at that point, that Drifter had a strange thought: he wished he were an earth pony, knowing of the ground and the soil, able to make life, to protect, not to kill. But instead, he was a pegasus. Instead he was…

Out of the smoke, a mare appeared. “This is the g-god’s divine will! This is the alicorns’ testament!” she cried, collapsing on the ground, dropping a lantern. She stayed on her side, very still. Drifter ran towards her.

“Hey, hey. Stay with me!” he said, poking her face.

The smoke suddenly shifted.

The alicorns, huh? I don’t see any around here,” somepony said. He looked around, but saw no one. He stood up. “Did she think she was safe from her burdens? Did she think that she would come out unharmed? Oh, you ponies are quite…queer."

Drifter looked around once more, and rapidly blinked. The smoke in front of his eyes started changing, shaping into...some sort of monstrosity. A lion’s paw. Am eagle’s claw. Two different shaped horns. A head of a pony…and the tail of a dragon. It was…

“What about you? You didn’t think you were safe, did you?”

The fire was raging onward, the smoke rising in the cave behind him, but he stood fastened to the ground, unable to look at anything except the disfigured creature before him.

“Can you believe they’re actually going to call this place Equestria? Too simplistic if you ask me. I much prefer Dyscordia—haha, get it? No? Well, that’s quite a shame. I’m quite fond of dystopia and such—hm, you should definitely see where I live."

“Who…who are you?”

“Me? Why I’m the spirit of chaos. And I see that this town has had plenty of chaos in my absence.”

“You’re the draco—” The draconequus slithered over to him, and without realizing it, a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Yes, yes. The draconequus. I know. And just who might you be?” Drifter’s mouth opened and closed. He saw the creature smiling.

“Don’t you know it’s rude not to introduce yourself! Pish posh, these ponies are always so discourteous and yet, so droll. Oh. Why are you shaking? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re afraid?”

Drifter felt his knees buckle. His spear. Where was his spear?!

“Catfish got your tongue? Well, I suppose ‘afraid’ might be too strong of a word. Perhaps you’re ‘surprised?’”

He pushed the creature away and tried to take flight, but his wings tightened. “Hm? Leaving so soon?” He heard him say. Drifter jumped, but could not fly, and instead scrambled on the floor, looking for his spear or a rock or anything he could use to defend himself. He dashed along the floor, eyeing back and forth and back again, behind him, where the draconequus stood smiling at the surrounding bedlam.

“Still not going to say anything? Well then, you’ve wasted my time. You’ve had your fun, haven’t you? Running around with your rock and sticks,” he said, slithering the last words. In his hand appeared Drifter’s spear and with a deafening crunch he saw him break it in half and then into fourths until finally, he took the obsidian point and ate it.

Drifter gaped in horror.

“But now…now, is the time. Are you ready, my little pony?” he started laughing. “Now, I’ll bring you real chaos.”

---

---

There was a knock.

“Come in,” he said.

A door creaked open, and a unicorn entered, her horn partially lighting his study and the dim hallway.

“Master, there was a letter.”

He didn’t look up at her, and instead focused on the maps in front of him and an unfinished written parchment. The quill scratches were the only sound in the room for a time, and the wax candle flickered slightly.

“Who sent it?” he asked.

“It was Signal Beam, Master. She spoke of an aura to the south of here. Some great power and she urged you to see it. But…”

“Speak up.”

“No one has seen or heard from her in days. We have sent the doves, but they come back with our messages still attached.”

The old unicorn paused. He put his quill down and he finally looked up, his eyes searching. The unicorn waited, her eyes locked on his.

“Get your cloak, Clover. We must make haste.”