The woods house but the animals and the remains of the past i the magical world that is. There are unmarked graves, hidden tombstones, and covered up bones. Sure, there is some good in Equestrian wilderness. That is found in Zecora most profoundly. But this is not about a zebra. This is about a hut, in these great woods. A home. Or at least, what used to be a home. What was and what is are never the same things, you see.
The particular hut of which we speak is made of little more than cut logs and oaken branches. Little effort was given to the hut in anything but living there. Living there was the biggest challenge for him. But living there was the only option for him. Him? Yes indeed, him. The stallion who owned this establishment. Should no one know about him, he could be safe. Should no one find out about him, they would be safe. Should no one inquire about him, he would be lost. And should no one remember him, well, then what was there to worry about? In the end, all the above were true. Mostly. His family didn't care to remember him. His society didn't care to. And neither did the one filly who meant the most to him. Sure, she may have thought of him once or twice, but she was too young when he disappeared. She didn't know what a hole it tore through his heart to leave her. To throw her out on her own to save her and himself. But he had to. It was too dangerous to stay together. Had he remained there- well, then I wouldn't be telling this tale.
The hut was crafted by none more than his magic. Yes, I have surrendered a detail; he was, indeed, a unicorn. It was completed so far in the woods that not the bravest soldier in Celestia's guard dared go that far. He needed not to worry about them, they couldn't take her now. He was safe. He was forgotten. But not the filly. as a matter of fact, the filly disappeared too. But not for long. She hid out in the alleyways of the streets of Canterlot for many years, protected and fed by his magic. He was fed by the wilderness, but the wild is called the wild for a reason. And the things that are wild do not care to give up their food so that a powerful unicorn could keep the only thing he loved safe from harm.
So he lived in the hut, so he perished in the hut. Yes, he was an magnificently powerful unicorn. But all living things must feed. And as was mentioned the wild doesn't care for freely distributing its hidden berries and its food, its life. So the forest took his. And the filly was to fend for herself. The hut stayed, with his body in a hole he dug himself. Over the years that it has been there,his body has been covered up. The woods have taken back to the regular life it once had. But now there was a hut to commemorate the life left behind. The stallion who fought back against oppression, and lost his life and his own filly. His daughter. Yes, she was his daughter. She is still alive, unlike both her parents. She is a Pegasus, as her father intended for her to be. He was a great unicorn. And so he as been forgotten as such. Back to the present.
Spike had left the library that day expecting nothing special. He was counting on a normal day, with no adventures out of the ordinary. But today was not going to fall under his expectations. On his morning stroll with Twilight Sparkle, she felt a sharp pain in her horn. A surge. A more powerful entity was calling for her. The more she walked, the more it hurt. She stopped walking, and it continued to hurt. She walked past Fluttershy's cottage, and the pain seemed to be getting less intense. She picked up Spike and threw him on her back.
"Twilight, are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm okay, Spike. Just hang on. Trust me."
"Okay, okay I trust you Twilight."
And off they went. Into the wilderness, as he had done so many years ago. She picked up speed like she had never done before. Her eyes became dark. The purple that once existed on her back was now a deep blue. She ran even faster, dodging trees, and slowing down at nothing. Poor Spike, although he was safe, was scared for his life. He looked behind him. A timberwolf looked in the distance in the back of them. Spike nearly fainted, but Twilight's pace could not be matched if the wolf had even tried. All of this was happening so fast. But not everything has time to,- well,- make time to explain in detail. Spike didn't like that. He thought an explanation was needed when something that was so unlike Twilight happened to her. But nevertheless, there wasn't one. Spike fell to sleep, sill grasping Twilight tightly. She hadn't noticed his decent into unconsciousness. But why would she have? She was running at beyond top speeds in the middle of the woods.
When Spike awoke, there was nothing in front of him but Twilight's neck. He picked his head up. She had finally stopped running like mad, and had come to find herself in front of a hut, with her normal colors returned to her body.
"Twilight, where are we?"
"Spike! Spike! The surge stopped!"
"Great! But where are we? I don't like the looks of this place."
"I don't know. It looks like an old hut."
She looked around and saw its true existence. A home. And a grave. The sign outside read: "To All Who Find This, Tell Her I Love Her."
"Love who, Twilight?"
"Oh my gosh. It can't be-"
"But it is."
"Spike, we have to go. Now."