//------------------------------// // Supplies // Story: Big Game, Hunter // by BleepBloop2 //------------------------------// Zecora bustled around her home, tidying away various alchemical supplies and the knick-knacks she had picked up over her travels. It was not every day she had visitors, living in the Everfree as she did, but judging by the sounds she had heard echoing over the forest yesterday, she would have two. The first would arrive early, as he always did. The second would come later. Eventually, she realised she wasn’t actually tidying anymore, merely moving items from one place to another. She took a deep breath, and forced herself back to her work. Pulling only the necessary ingredients from her stores, she started working on breakfast. Maybe she could get her first visitor to join her? He should be here soon. As if by magic, a knock came from the door. Setting down her half-made breakfast, she moved to the door and opened it. Outside was a stallion the colour of healthy leaves and good soil. He was big, but not overly so, his muscles visible under his dark green coat but not bulging like some she had seen. Zecora stepped to the side and waved the stallion in. He nodded and picked up a bag in his mouth, bringing it inside with him. Zecora moved over to where she had been cooking. Looking up, she saw the stallion looking around her home as she always did. “Come, warm yourself by my fire, and tell me what it is you desire.” She shuddered slightly as the curse forcing her to rhyme washed over her. It was always worst in the morning, as the first light of day renewed it. The stallion either didn’t notice or was used to it by now, because he didn’t even blink as he came close to the fire. Zecora set a bowl of oats and fruit in front of the stallion, who shook his head as he lay down. She pushed the bowl forward slightly, and again the stallion shook his head. It would take someone with keen eyes or who saw him often to notice the small smile on his face as they went through the usual motions. Sighing, Zecora took the bowl for herself, eating her breakfast as the stallion emptied the sack. He pulled out a myriad of bottles, bags, bundles and boxes and set them on the ground around him. Zecora peered over her meal at them, wondering what he had brought this time. Before he said anything, he brought out a list and pushed it over to the zebra. “I require these supplies.” His voice was deep and quiet, with no hint of an accent Zecora could hear. It was like he had schooled all traces of it out of his voice. Looking over the list, Zecora saw the usual items. Food, water, a small amount of wood treated to help start fires, some fabric, nails, a few other, minor things used for making repairs. One item, however, caught her eye, and she had to read the line multiple times to make sure she had read it correctly. “I sold you enough of that potion to last you many months more; you cannot have already depleted your store!” A smaller shudder from the curse, barely noticeable. All the stallion said was, “The hydra was harder to track than I anticipated.” As if that explained going through enough stimulant to drop a Manticore! Zecora glared at him, but he was unmoved, staring straight ahead without the slightest expression on his face. The zebra sighed, and placed the list to one side. “I do not know how long your supplies will take; charged, I have been, with other potions to make. The rest depends on what you have brought; and how well it matches what I have sought.” No shudder this time. The curse was back down to its normal strength now. The stallion nodded, knowing the terms she would give well. “I bring hydra and manticore and parasprite,” the stallion said, dividing the items into three uneven groups. Hydra was the largest, then manticore, with parasprite far behind. Zecora looked through what the stallion had brought, taking fur, bone, scales and other parts from their containers and inspecting them, judging the quality. They were their usual high quality. “Yes, yes, these will do find.” Zecora replaced all the parts but a select few, which she began to prepare as she spoke. “Will you ever tell me your name, as I have told you mine?” The stallion started to shake his head and reply, but Zecora talked over him. “I will be forced to make enquirers, if you do not. This is something to which I have long given thought. Very few could face these beasts and live, fewer still leave with gifts to give.” The worst part of the curse, Zecora had thought long on, but if she had to pick any one part, it wouldn’t be the weakness it left in her muscles, or the chills it forced her to endure during the nights as it ate her body heat to sustain itself. It was that it was not very good at rhyming. Sometimes, she could find a rhyme for it, and it would usually take it, but more often than not she didn’t know what she would say before she said it. The intent, the general meaning of the phrase was the same, but the words were not. The stallion looked at Zecora. Not a glare, not frowning, merely looking in the direction she happened to be in. He didn’t say anything for a minute or two, and Zecora was about to say she would respect his privacy if he wished, when he spoke. “Big Game.” Zecora looked up from her work. “Big Game? That is your name?” The stallion, Big Game, nodded. “Parents were toy-makers.” Zecora nodded back, finishing of the last item she had to prepare quickly. “These supplies,” she said, pointing towards Big Game’s list, “do you need them soon? I am planning a trip into town around noon. You are welcome to join me; I would be glad of the company.” Big Game began to reply, then shook his head. “I still need to find some things in the forest.” Zecora sighed, but wasn’t going to argue. And she knew not to offer any help. That was the only thing she had found so far to make him angry. But she could point him in the right direction. “Not to long back, I saw some signs of a timberwolf pack. They seemed to have a run in with a manticore, and now several of them are no more. They range to the north and east, though those that remain were not among the least. I would be much happier if you could remove the beasts, as, on my friends and I, they have several times tried to feast.” She gave Big Game a quick look. He caught her eye and gave a small nod. There was another knock on the door. They both looked at it. The knock had been quiet, almost inaudible. Indeed, if she hadn’t been expecting it, Zecora doubted she would have heard it. The zebra glanced at Big Game, and saw he was gathering his supplies to leave. She had hoped he would stay, that him finally telling her his name would mean he would stop being so distant. It seemed not. Zecora moved to her door again and opened it wide, giving the shy pegasus on the other side a welcoming smile. “Hello there, Fluttershy, and how are you? Are you here for more root of denaru?” The zebra moved to one side, giving plenty of space for the petite pegasus to enter. Fluttershy glanced up at Zecora briefly, before looking back down at the ground. She walked calmly into Zecora’s home, eyes down. “That’s what I’m here for, yes. Not that I don’t like visiting you, or anything, though the Everfree is kind of scary…” Fluttershy’s voice slowly grew quieter as spoke, until she was inaudible. Zecora just gave her a soft smile. “It is fine, Fluttershy. Very few ponies are merely passing by. I believe I have the root that you require; while I find it, there is tea beside my fire.” The pegasus sent a small smile towards Zecora as the zebra moved over to her stores. As soon as her back was turned, she heard a quiet gasp from Fluttershy. Turning around, she saw Big Game had packed his things away and had stood up to his full height, which was easily a head taller than Fluttershy. The poor mare had frozen stiff, not expecting to see somepony else here. Big Game just nodded to the both of them and left. As soon as the door closed behind the stallion, Fluttershy unfroze. “Oh my, who was that, Zecora? I don’t think I’ve seen him around Ponyville before. I would have seen him at one of Pinkie’s parties if nowhere else.” “It is unlikely you would have seen him before, he rarely leaves the forest anymore. Here he has made his home, and he is not the type to roam. Big Game is his name, though why he is here I have no idea.” Fluttershy frowned. “You don’t know why he came to your home?” “No, no, you have misunderstood. I do not know why he is in these woods. He comes to me for supplies, to get things he would have to leave the forest to buy.” Zecora turned back to her store, quickly locating the denaru root. A rather common plant, it could be used for a wide range of minor ailments, and was the main ingredient in most minor painkillers. “So he lives in the forest? Is his home nearby?” asked from behind her. “The forest is where he has made his home, though deeply enough to find it I have not roamed.” She took some of her supply of the root and put it in a small canvas sack, which she placed next to Fluttershy. “It lies closer to the center than I dare go. How he survives there, I do not know.” The pegasus stared down at her cup of tea. “Wow. He must be really brave to live there.” ---- A stallion the colour of dirt and grass looked down at a pool of water and frowned at the coward looking back at him. He had fled as soon as somepony else arrived, packing his few belongings as quickly as he could, just as he had fled Canterlot after the funerals. Staring down a charging manticore was easy. All it could do was kill him, and some days he wasn’t opposed to that idea, but he couldn’t die - refused to die - before he was finished. He was almost done. Just six more to go, and he would finish alone what they had started together. Dipping his face into the surprisingly clean water, he used to shock of cold against his fur to clear his head. This wasn’t the time, and certainly not the place, to be lost in thought. Shifting the sack he used to carry supplies, telling himself for the hundredth time to get saddlebags so he would have to deal with uneven weight on his back, he set off towards his camp. It took him a little under two hours of walking to get there, and it almost wasn’t worth the walk. It was a small camp, a sturdy campaigners tent, the sort you could tell by looking wasn’t going to be comfortable, but would keep you dry even in the most torrential rains. His supplies were suspended half again his height from the ground, and a bodylength from the nearest tree, as well as being no where near his tent. Half measures just didn’t cut it in the Everfree. In between the two was a circle of stones, surrounded by a larger circle of ground that had been cleared of detritus. As much as he sometimes felt like it, burning down the forest wouldn’t help him get the last few things on his list. The only other thing of note was the small assortment of weapons leaning against his tent. He didn’t take any weapons on his trips to see the shamaness, at first out of fear of how she would react to an armed stallion, then because he didn’t need to. He had never seen any dangerous creatures on the track to the zebra’s hut, only the odd cockatrice or other small game. Nothing worth worrying about. Letting the sack slide from his back, he walked over to the tent and looked over his weapons, making sure they were in top condition. Your life depended on your weapon as much as it did the pony next to you, after all. Three blades of different lengths, small medium and large, a crossbow he’d gotten from a griffon for a manticore hide, two sets of hooves spikes, one for offense, one for grip, and his heavy barding. Satisfied they weren’t in worse condition than when he left, he set about lighting the fire, thinking about what Zecora had said. Timberwolves, to the north east. He’d have to give it a look.