//------------------------------// // Moby // Story: The Great Equestria Wars // by Vespulan //------------------------------// Sharp Cookie knelt next to her companion, panting hard from the effort of pulling the Unicorn along the soft, muddy ground. She'd decided to simply pull Sentinel in a straight line from where she collapsed, in the direction of the path, but branches and roots were rapidly covering the ground and heavy, stench-filled air as well blocking any slices of Moonlight that might pierce the rotting canopy above her. Cookie had lost hope hours ago, but still held her friends hooves between hers as she hauled them both between the ominous trunks, moss and sap sticking to her already mottled fur. At last her strength left her and, agonising strain, pulled Sentinel into a small knot of roots and rested her own head in a pile of odorous lichen. Heavy eyelids willingly slid shut, taking her from a the dark forest to an even darker sleep. The Earth mare fell unconscious just as a gorse bush next to her head rustled, and an old, wiry Stallion with a silk handkerchief shoved up his nose practically burst into the small clearing and scooped the two mares with surprisingly little effort up onto his shoulders, bounding back into the undergrowth. “...No no no, you're doing it all wrong! Lean forwards, lift your knees and THEN extended your hind legs! Yes, yes, that's more like it!” Sentinel lay just inside on of the make-shift tents pitched by the Earth Pony scouting party, nibbling on a dried-out oatmeal biscuit watching the grey haired Marshall explain to his squad how to buck properly, in an attempt to fend off the thick, threatening branches that were still relentlessly growing out of the forest, but thankfully now at a rather feeble rate. Next to her lay the battered body of the Earth Pony advisor, lightly snoring in a heap of mixed fur and foliage. “Come on you cupcakes, put your hooves into it! I've seen caterpillars snap twigs faster then this! Stiff-Stick, how are the rations?” “Not lookin' good Marshall, not much more candles left and we're down to the last box of extra-sweet sugar lumps.” A young-looking troop nervously addressed his commander, who purposefully strode over to the storage tent and lift the crate of delicious, military-standard sugar cubes onto his back. “Right o' Stiffy, keep an eye on the candles and split up the rest of the oatmeal. Good stuff, rather...” The Marshall trotted off, humming a bizarre marching tune and head towards the shelter where Cookie and Sentinel lay resting. “High-ho-hum my lady, you're awake! I'm sure you have a lot of questions, but we really have no time. Now if you'll excuse me...” Marshall Moby (as that was the veteran's name) reached over a bemused Sentinel's head, hoisted Cookie out into the candle-lit clearing and gave her a fierce head-butt. Sentinel leap to her feet, astounded by the Stallion's actions, “What do you think you're doing?! That's the King's advisor!”. Moby briefly glanced in Sentinel's direction before landing another sharp fore-head slap upon Sharp-Cookie. The mare grunted and her eyes flickered open, a look of complete confusion sweeping across her face. “There we go! Right as rain. Now then Cookie, as I've just told you Unicorn friend, I'd love to answer your questions but we have to get a move on. Canterlot will be expecting us back, and time is a-wasting!” Moby once again charged off, shouting out incomprehensible orders and stamping his feet in a comical fashion. Sharp Cookie shook her head, still not completely aware of... well, anything really. “Cookie! Are you all right? That Stallion just head-butted you! Do you remember what happened? The last thing I rem...” Sentinel urgently bombarded the poor mare with questions who simply stared limply, blinking and flexing her legs. Suddenly she stood bolt upright, eyes wide and a grin plastered onto her muzzle. “Moby!” She exclaimed, turning towards the Marshall who was jumping and stamping up and down in the crate of sugar, grinding it into a fine powder. “Moby, I can't believe its you!” Turning, the iron-grey Stallion puffed his chest out and addressed the bedraggled advisor. “Of course its me, who else would it be grain-brain? How's the King?” Moby resumed stamping the sugar, not expecting an answer. “He's awfully ill, like nothing we've ever seen. The whole of Canterlot's gone loopy since that thing arrived...” “Typical, I'm gone for a couple of days and everyone goes potty!” Taking a grand, final stomp, Moby gathered the white dust into a satchel and marched up to Cookie, “Now, as you may have noticed, the enemy are to our left, right, front and rear. There's no way they can escape! Watch closely deary, this is a little something I picked up in Saddle Arabia when under the command of Captain W.E. Something-or-the-other...” Babbling to himself, he trotted around the clearing scrutinising every tree and gap. Finally he came to rest where two candles stood marking where the path had formerly been. “Sticks! Pack everything up, we're leaving!” “Aye, sir.” Stiff-Stick hurriedly packed up spare candles, packets of food and spare shoes before handing small bundles of biscuits wrapped in canvas to the scouts and mares. Moby was thrusting a hoof into the base of a particularly thin tree, digging a shallow hole before filling it with a hoof-full of sugar-dust from his satchel. “Right then lads, stand back and watch the magic!” Sentinel grunted at the misuse of the word, but stayed curious as to what was going to happen. “Stuffy, boot-lace!” Frowning, Stick untied a lace from one of the spare shoes and tossed it towards the Marshall who neatly lay it so one end just touched the sugar and the other stretched out towards himself. Grabbing a piece of flint from the ground, he swiped it against his hob-nailed boot causing a tiny spark and rapidly turned-tail and bound towards the expectant party. “High ho, fiddly-dum, such is the life of a baker's son-” BOOM. A fountain of flame spurt from the pile of sugar as the dust exploded, blowing a neat whole in the ground and surrounding trees. With incredible energy, Moby galloped back into the now smoking tree-line and threw himself against a thick tree that had been badly damaged by the explosion. With a sharp Creeeak the tree toppled against a few more smaller trunks opening up a narrow path-way, made up of burnt logs and tree-stumps. Sentinel merely gawked at the destructive power harnessed by an old Stallion and some delicious sugar. She followed the pack of Earth ponies that were now fixing supplies to a trap and making their way over to where Moby stood, hopping from hoof to hoof with impatience and, in a very authoritative tone, hailed the herd: “Come on you lot! We've got a lot of wood to clear, and it feels like rain. Horn-bearer, get out front and give me some light!” Sentinel had never appreciated the names given by Earth ponies to the Unicorn race, but this stallion was her only way out of this foetid forest. She galloped to the front of the convoy, Cookie brushing up against her re-assuringly as light began emanating from her horn, filling the gloom with sleek tendrils of light that lay in soft lines across gnarled roots and uninviting branches. The small troupe set off along Moby's makeshift path just as the old war-horse cried out an equally old marching-tune...