MLP: Friendship is Universal Prologue

My Little Pony: Friendship is Universal

Prologue

He tore through the forest, bounding through bush and over stream, stumbling as undergrowth and tree branches got caught in the holes in his legs and tore at his gauzy wings. Every last scrape and bruise would come back to haunt him tenfold in a day or so, but for now the pain came a distant second to his need to put as much distance between himself and those chasing him as possible. A fate far worse than the occasional twig across the face awaited him if he was caught.

The birds and other woodland creatures were silent in the face of the invader crashing through their home. The quiet meant he would hear his pursuers long before he risked running into them, yet on the other hoof it also meant that they could hear him. It was a trade-off he’d just have to accept, and hope the wildlife would resume its interrupted business soon after he passed by.

For the time being the only sound to be heard was the thud of hooves against the thick loam of the forest floor, the gurgle of a small creek and the laboured panting of his breathing. The last was broken now and then by a choked-off grunt or sharp hiss whenever he tripped over yet another root, or a low-hanging branch clawed off yet another bit of wing.

It would’ve been easier and faster (not to mention less painful) to fly, but he didn’t dare leave the protective cover of the trees.

Eventually his body gave out in spite of his will and the blue and black creature collapsed in a heap beside the stream, flanks heaving as he gasped for breath.

I did it, he thought, wheezing out a chuckle. I got away! I got– The chuckles froze in his throat as a familiar buzz reached his ragged ears.

No! Oh no, no, no! He forced himself onto his shaking legs, panic giving him renewed strength. He scanned the clearing, looking for something, anything that might help him out of his predicament. Blue-grey eyes came to rest on the stream. An idea formed, and he internally berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. He leapt into the air, a band of green flames – a sign of his shape-shifting magic in action – encircling his waist as he quickly changed from a black and deep-blue creature with fangs and a crooked horn to a deep green bullfrog no bigger than a tennis ball, and landed in the stream with a splash.

The false frog was already drifting along with the current when his pursuers burst into the clearing. Several black and green insect-like pony creatures hissed and shrieked in frustration, all of them unaware of their prey swimming away in the stream over which they hovered.