Old enemies stir in Northern Westeros and a team is sent to deal with this ancient enemy, but they may be surprised by what else they find on their journey.
Enemies stir in Westeros's far northern tundra, coming from beyond the furthest place on the map, The Haunted Forest. A shell of its former self the Night's Watch must send a team of its own through the Haunted Forest to try and save mankind.
What they find on the other side of the forest may surprise them though...
If Caramel never had to see another apple again in his life, it would be too soon. Everyday he worked at Sweet Apple Acres his distaste for the red fruit only grew stronger, the only reason he still worked at the godforsaken place was because he didn't mind looking at the apples on Applejack's flank. Caramel was far away from that flank at the moment, off helping Mac fix a fencepost on the Southern edge of Sweet Apple Acres where the farm met the Everfree Forest. Caramel closed his eyes and shook his head as he thought about it; he hated working over by the Everfree forest. While Celestia's sun was shining bright over Equestria a blizzard had formed over the Everfree, and brought with it a cold wind that swept over Sweet Apple Acres.
"Hey Mac! Do you think we could call it early today?" the shivering farmhand called, already knowing the answer, "We're already pretty far ahead of schedule."
"Eenope," replied Mac in his sickeningly slow drawl, "We can get half of tomorrow's work done before sundown if we hurry, I reckon."
Typical, thought Caramel, I don't even think he's noticed the cold.
Caramel sat back on his haunches as he waited for more orders from Big Mac. It had become similar to clockwork by this point, the Apple family would set out a list of chores that would need to be done within a day and the work would be divided accordingly. Granny Smith would be in charge of whatever work needed to be done around the house. Applebloom would get all of the little chores that she could get done after getting home from school, tasks she couldn't possibly mess up even with her friends help. Applebloom still managed to make mistakes though, with her friends Sweetie Belle and... the orange one. That might be their special talents actually, breaking things. Applejack would be in charge of any sales or financing that would need to take place, and would also buck trees when she wasn't off with her friends saving Equestria. Sadly, Equestria needed saving quite often, as it was a ridiculously dangerous place apparently.
Caramel scowled and scuffed one of his forehooves in the dirt, this would leave Mac and Caramel with the brunt of the farm's heavy labor. The problem with this for Caramel was that he wasn't nearly as strong as the large draft horse, and therefore spent a fair share of his day simply fetching tools and making simple repairs just so Mac could do his job without having to run off to do small errands. Half the time, Caramel wound up fetching the wrong tools or simply putting a quick fix on things that wouldn't hold in the long run. Caramel knew this made Mac angry. Mac wanted to work as slowly as possible, always making sure everything was done right the first time. Which didn't happen if Mac had to constantly wait for Caramel to fetch the right tools or if Mac had to stop his work and make sure that Caramel didn't cut any corners on repairs.
That was Caramel's problem with Mac, everything had to last forever with him. A fallen fence post couldn't just be lifted up and pushed back into its little hole in the ground with Mac. Oh no, it had to be taken out and inspected first to see if the wood was in good condition. If the wood was deemed suitable then it fine, Mac would dig a new hole in the ground for it and put it back in. If the wood wasn't up to Mac's standards? Then holy buck, time to start a whole damn carpentry project. It wasn't as if Caramel hated spending an hour or so running back and forth between the tool sheds and the fence fetching carpentry tools, or when he would help Mac cut wood to make a new post every time the damn fence broke, it's just that Mac was awful company the whole time. Caramel was sure that the life-long farmer only learned how to speak just so he could scold farmhands and tell them off when they mucked things up. Mac never spoke more then a few words or so unless he was telling Caramel what to do.
"Hey Caramel, for the third time stop daydreaming and go grab me some two by fours," Mac commanded, pulling the hired help out of his revelry, "There's some spares in the Southern orchard's shed."
"Yeah okay," the farmhand took a second to think about how to get to the Southern shed on the shortest possible path, "The two by fours are on the bottom rack right?"
"Eeyup," was Mac's only reply.
Caramel turned and began to walk down towards the Southern shed, keeping the Everfree to his left the whole way. As the wind from the forest swept across his frame, Caramel thought about the menacing Forest that he had heard tales about as a foal. How manticores from the forest would swoop into town and gobble up stallions and steal away mares for their own pleasure. How Hydras would decorate their homes with the bones of ponies. How if he didn't eat his bucking vegetables like a good little foal, two legged beasts would break into his house and eat Caramel's whole family. How the same beasts enslaved ancient Earth Ponies and forced them to carry the beasts upon their backs.
Caramel had told that unicorn musician Lyra about the last story; turns out she didn't find it half as interesting as he thought she would've. He had heard that she had received a mythology degree at some fancy Canterlot University, and he had thought that talking about some old ponies tale might be a good way to strike up a conversation with her at Pinkie Pie's last party. In a shocking turn of events, it turned out that Lyra didn't give a single magical buck about the creatures and she was tired of everyone bringing them up around her. Maybe it just went to show that just because a mare sat funny didn't mean she was into weird things.
That was beside the point though, what Caramel thought about now was the fact that nobody seemed to give a buck about how dangerous the forest was anymore. Ever since the Elements of Harmony went into the forest and didn't get instantly murdered, everyone and their mother seemed to be taking their vacations in the forest. Caramel preferred it back when it was only monsters and that creepy zebra spent time in the forest, it made life simpler. Now Caramel didn't have a problem with Zecora, he didn't have a problem with any mare that had nice eyes in the front and a flank in the back. Maybe if she didn't speak so weird and live in the middle of Ponyville's local forest of death he would've tried making a move. Now might not be the best time in all honesty, he kind of had a thing going on with Bon Bon, he didn't think she'd be okay with that kind of thing.
Damn it.
His thoughts continued to drift to the mares in town and their respective flanks as he walked. It was a pleasant distraction from the cold. Now that he thought about it, Caramel was definitely a flank-stallion. Sure, some stallions went for wingspan or horn length; Pokey Pierce loved forelegs now that he thought about it. Regardless, Caramel loved flanks, and there was nothing anypony could do to change that. Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted, he heard three screams coming from the edge of the forest. Caramel jumped a little when the Cutie Mark Crusaders ran out of the foliage.
"Help! Help!" Applebloom screamed as she sprinted towards Caramel. The three fillies, none of whom were wearing any winter clothing, all gathered around Caramel and began shouting at the cold and weary stallion.
"Now calm down girls," Caramel speaking down at the foals with a higher-than-average volume, "Applebloom, you tell me what just happened to you three."
"There's monsters in the forest!" yelled Applebloom the moment Caramel finished speaking.
Monsters in the Everfree? Caramel closed his eyes and shook his head with slight annoyance, No shit.
"There was a bunch of big scary monsters in there! Go do something!" shouted the little orange one; Caramel could never actually remember her name.
"Nuh-uh Scootaloo," Sweetie Belle chimed in, "there was only one!'
"How would you know? You didn't look! You were too busy running away! What if a whole bunch came out while you weren't looking?" the little pegasus chimed in.
"Okay calm down you three," Caramel started before Sweetie Belle could chime in, "I'll go check on the big scary monsters, you three go put on something warm and head over to your clubhouse."
"But Caramel!" whined Applebloom whilst putting on her best show of pouting, "Shouldn't we get help? Like the town guards?"
"Rainbow Dash?" suggested the little pegasus.
"Fetlock Holmes?" squeaked Sweetie Belle.
"The Royal Guards?" Applebloom said.
The Crusaders then all turned to one another before they looked at Caramel in unison.
"Princess Cel-"
"Rainbow Dash?" the pegasus filly suggested again. Applebloom facehoofed.
"Scootaloo, y'already said that," Applebloom put a forehoof on her friend's side.
"Scoots, about Rainbow Dash, me and Sweetie have been talking," Applebloom glanced over to her unicorn friend.
Sweetie Belle let out a deep sigh and averted her eyes from her friend, "You have an addiction Scootaloo. We want to help you, but you need to want to help yourself first." Applebloom then drew Scootaloo's attention once more to speak.
"An' we know this because the movies said so."
Scootaloo merely looked between her two friends and smiled, "Eh, I don't really see what's wrong with it," and with that Scootaloo's friends just looked at each other and shrugged, accepting the Rainbow Dash fan-filly's response.
Seriously?
"Fine, go get help," Caramel let out, interrupting the Crusader's intervention before it began again, "Go get Big Macintosh, and I'll check up on these 'monsters'."
"Okay Caramel," replied Applebloom, "While you go scout for the big scary monsters, we'll go get Big Mac just in case somepony needs to fight 'em off! Girls, y'all know what this means?"
"CUTIE MARK CRUSADER MESSENGERS! YAY!"
Caramel closed his eyes and shook his head once more as he watched the three run off to find Big Mac instead of go do quite literally anything else.
Damn it, thought Caramel, Now I actually have to go do something about this.
As much as he wanted to just ignore the Cutie Mark Crusaders' words, Caramel knew that if he didn't at least humor them and venture a suitable distance into the forest, he would be chewed out by Mac for not taking the threat of monsters seriously.
Cursing his luck, Caramel climbed over the fence and took his first steps into the forest he had heard so much about as a foal, he focused his thoughts to his surroundings as the trees above swallowed up the sunlight around him. The wind seemed to get stronger as he stepped into the forest, they whipped around his face forcing him to narrow his eyes and lean his head forward. Caramel darted his eyes from side to side as he hastily scanned the brush around him, looking for whatever these so called "big scary monsters" may be. Caramel noted a distinct lack of animals in the area of his immediate surroundings.
I probably should've asked what the monster looked like, Caramel thought as he crept deeper into the forest, Just remember the facts Caramel, monsters mostly come out at night.
Mostly.
After going what he judged to be far enough into the forest Caramel began to turn around slowly, making sure to stay alert lest he be swooped up and turned into decorations for some forest dweller's home. As the young stallion began to make his way back, he heard a slight noise coming from behind the nearby bushes, just loud enough to be heard over the wind. Caramel hesitated.
It’s probably nothing, Caramel reassured himself, just some squirrels or something running around.
Caramel began to make his way towards the source of the noise, taking care to focus on his steps and avoid making noise and drawing the attention of any predator that may be skulking about in the blind spots of his notice. Caramel shivered slightly and maneuvered himself around the edge of a gnarled tree to get a better view of the source of the noise.
As he peered out around his cover, Caramel saw the culprit, a small brown rabbit that had gotten its foot caught in between some roots in the ground. It struggled to remove itself from its trappings with an obvious sense of panic.
Caramel sighed as he noticed the small creature and began to walk over to the trapped animal. When he got within a forelegs length of the rabbit, he closed his eyes and shook his head at his own apprehension.
"Seriously?" Caramel said to the rabbit, "You live your whole life in this forest and you can't avoid getting stuck?"
After rubbing his hooves together for warmth, Caramel moved a sharp rock just out of the way as he tried to pull one of the twisted roots up enough to free the rabbit. After several attempts, he found that the roots clung firmly to the ground. Caramel then grabbed the root hard with both hooves and pulled harder as the rabbit continued to writhe and squeak in terror.
"Calm down, I'm trying to help you out here," Caramel shivered again as the cold winds grew stronger.
Caramel closed his eyes and shook his head at the rabbit. As he did this, he felt a splatter of warm liquid on his face, a sharp contrast from the biting cold.
"Did you just spit on me you bucking animal!" Caramel shouted wiping his face dry, "Stupid bucking rabbit!"
When Caramel opened his eyes though, he was not met with the frightened rabbit's squeaks and panic. Instead, he saw it convulsing and writhing as it's blood poured out of its neck and onto his hooves and the roots that held it in place. As he moved his eyes upward, he saw the rabbit's face was merely staring at him blankly through dull eyes as its body twitched around a new protrusion that had entered its neck.
Caramel lifted his eyes as he followed the length of the blade that had taken the rabbits life. The weapon was long and white, and a visible layer of frosted air billowed off it as if it was made of some sort of cursed ice. The twisted appendage that held the blade was cracked and frozen, more resembling some sort of five legged spider attached to a foreleg than a hoof. It didn't have forelegs though; it stood on only two legs. Its arm was nearly hairless, with the small amount of fur on its arm tipped in sharp white frost. Its body was bare save a frozen tattered cloth covering its loins and the frost that spread around its body like some sort of frozen moss on a dying tree. Its chest stood still, as if it needed no air to sustain itself. Its head was narrow and ugly, topped with a small mop of white fur that blew around in the frigid wind.The worst was its face though, small, round, and tipped by a sharp nose, striking into Caramel's very soul with its cold, blue eyes.
Caramel's breath hitched, this was it. This was one of the old beasts of legend that was used to scare foals before they went to sleep at night.
This was the end of his life.
Caramel whimpered weakly as the beast drew its blade from the dead animal slowly. Its movements were slow but deliberate, as if it were merely going about the inevitable, making sure to do its killing right and clean. Caramel felt a chill crawl down his spine as what appeared to be a smile cracked across the creature's face. The beast laughed a sharp lifeless laugh as it turned and stalked away slowly, ice sprouting upon the ground like white crystalline flowers where it walked.
The beast never once turned back to look upon its earlier kill, nor at the pony it had left behind.
The cold winds began to recede as Caramel sat and shook on the ground for what felt like a lifetime. Once he began to regain feeling throughout his body, he began to splatter the ground around himself with the contents of his stomach. He shuddered violently with each heave, but he didn't question why the beast had left him there alive.
After Caramel had emptied himself upon the ground, he tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened. He had just encountered an old mare's tale long thought to be nonexistent, a cruel evil monster that enslaved ponies. He had witnessed the murder of a rabbit as he had been trying to help it. Yet though the monster had plenty of opportunities to take his life, Caramel had lived.
Thank the sun! I won't complain about Big Mac anymore! I'll visit my parents more often! I'll donate bits to the filly scouts! Just don't make me have to see that... that thing ever again. Caramel thanked the old spirit of the sun for his fortune.
Caramel heard shouting in the distance and his heart warmed; the Crusaders must have gotten help.
Caramel began to rise to his hooves, his breaths shuddering the whole time. His mouth still burned with the putrid taste of vomit, and his legs shrieked in protest as he tried to flex life back into them. As he rose, his hindlegs gave out beneath him, still reeling from shock.
Caramel lifted his head and tried to shout, but instead wound up dry heaving as his empty stomach still tried to make him vomit.
Damn it, I can't talk.
As he opened his mouth to try and call out for help again, he felt a sharp pain bite into his neck, and his cries came gurgling out of his mouth in a flow of coppery liquid. Caramel couldn't understand what was happening. He collapsed onto his back and looked down at himself, trying to see what was happening.
Standing atop his chest and consuming his vision he saw was the mangled rabbit from earlier, blood still pulsing out slowly from the gaping hole in its neck. The rabbit's head dangled from it's shoulders as there was too little left of it's neck to support its weight. The rabbit began drawing its arm back from his neck, it carried a sharp rock coated in Caramel's blood. Caramel hardly noticed the rock that was drawing his life out of his neck though, and the distant shouting became a white noise in the back of his mind.
All Caramel could focus on as he drew his last, wet choking breaths was the cold blue eyes of the rabbit that had risen from the dead before him.
It struck Big Macintosh as somewhat odd that he had never made a decision in a dream before. There was only one set of possible events in a dream, a destiny that would drag the surreal reality forward.
Sometimes there wasn’t any decision to be made in a dream, just events that could only be observed. Mac would dream he was walking through the apple orchards in a daze, no known goal in mind, but there was always a destination. There was always something that had to be done. Some nights he would find himself headed towards the barn to fetch tools for some odd job. Other nights he would be in the schoolhouse as a young colt again, dreading some sort of presentation where he would be forced to speak in front of his entire class. It was like traveling down a long road, wandering towards an inevitable goal.
Big Macintosh relished nights when there were decisions to be made, because then there was no free will, he would know the decision well before he had to make it. There was a refreshing certainty to action without thought. If Mac was walking down a path towards a mountain, then it had to be climbed, he couldn’t turn back no matter how steep the ascent. No matter what terrors stood in Mac's way, no matter what variety of beast followed him, he would have the strength to press on. Some nights Princess Luna would visit him in his bedroom, Big Macintosh had no problem pressing forward on those nights.
Tonight was no different, he moved with an unknown purpose towards a predetermined goal. As Macintosh looked around, he could see he was far from home, walking through the thick brush of the Everfree Forest. Ancient roots reached up from the ground to grab onto his legs and break his stride. The arms of the trees loomed far above him, barely letting the dull light of the waxing moon above push its way through the thick foliage. Step by step Macintosh was dragged forward, the gaps between trees growing gradually smaller as he trekked further into the haunted forest.
Big Macintosh knew why he was here, he knew why he had been in the Everfree every time he closed his eyes for the past day. He was searching, scouring the forest for Caramel. That day Macintosh hadn’t known where Caramel was, he searched well after the sun had gone down for the lazy farmhoof. Macintosh didn’t take the detours that he had during his original search this time, he was moving in a straight line towards his goal. There were no split paths to choose from, no obstacles that impeded him, and no turning back.
The thought occurred to Big Macintosh that he had to wake up, that when he first walked this path that day that he had discovered something in this part of the woods. Something that he should have never found. Reliving this memory wouldn’t help him escape it, he had to get up and start running again before it found him. Mac began to feel his body try to resist.
The dream continued its harsh pull, dragging Mac deeper into the depths of his mind as he struggled. Despite his attempts to concentrate on the outside world, he couldn’t force his conscience from the path that stood before him in his mind. One step at a time, his legs were hauled forward, carrying him through the towering forest that seemed to close in around him. His hooves sinking deep into the soft dirt below him, he struggled against the grip of the dream world, but it had wrapped itself tight around his mind, plunging the simple farmer deeper into its surreal world, blurring his sense of reality.
Mac saw the last line of trees in front of him, recognizing them by the their distinctive cool, white bark. Mac's legs pulled him into the small clearing in the trees, his mind began to shudder as he looked into the small clearing. A ghostly chill blew across Mac's body as he stepped out of the tree line and into the small, circular patch of treeless land. Mac's eyes snapped onto the sprawled out form of the pony in the center of the clearing, the unimpeded moonlight emphasizing the pony and the puddle of liquid that slightly shone in the soft glow. Mac had been afraid of what he might find of Caramel in the forest, and his breath hitched as what appeared to be his worst fear come true.
Mac tried to stop himself from moving forward, to stop himself from getting any closer to what had once been Caramel. When Mac had first found the farmhoof lying facedown in the dirt, Mac had thought that he had just been hurt. That he needed some medical attention. As Mac now drew within hoof touching distance of what had once been Caramel, he began to mentally prepare himself for what was to come.
Dream-Mac prodded at Caramel's body, trying to coax a reaction out of the young stallion. After several shakes, Caramel began to stir, and for a moment Dream-Mac had thought that everything was alright, that Caramel had simply gotten lost in the forest and taken a nap. The hired farmhoof had a tendency to comment on occasions when ponies ventured into the forest as if it wasn't a big deal, and had decided to test out the dangers of the forest himself.
Had Mac not spotted the fact that Caramel's chest wasn't moving, that he wasn't breathing at all, Mac would've died right then.
Mac's muscles had tensed tensed when he noticed the stillness of Caramel's chest as he rose, and when his hoof shot up to strike at Mac, he barely managed to draw his head back in time.
Mac stumbled backwards, momentarily confused at Caramel's action. Mac paled when Caramel had stood up and faced him, a jagged line of fur matted down by hardened blood ran across his neck, forming a macabre necklace. The rest of his fur was coated in a white frost that cracked and fell off of Caramel in pieces as he moved. Caramel's once dark blue eyes had turned a gripping cold blue, locking onto Mac as what had once been Caramel began to move slowly towards the scared farmer.
Mac turned around to run, but stopped to look over his shoulder at what Caramel had become. Mac couldn't leave his friend like this, he didn't know what had happened, but he couldn't let this be Caramel. Mac began to tense his legs, sore from hours of hiking through the Everfree, but Mac had more than enough strength to buck hard. Mac planted his forehooves into the ground and rocked his weight forward as Caremel came closer. Even in his dream, Mac could still feel the unbelieving apprehension that had filled him, but it had happened so quick, and his body had filled with adrenaline so quickly that he had barely registered his own thoughts at the time.
When Caramel came within a leg's length to grab at Mac, the apple-bucker struck out with all of his might. It was enough force to dent a strong tree, Mac had done that regularly, so when Mac felt his hindlegs strike their target and heard the loud crack that followed, he assumed that he had ended the fight.
Mac didn't look behind him when his hindlegs reconnected with the dirt, he didn't want to see the damage he had done to Caramel's body. Mac tried his best to be a peaceful stallion, he didn't want to know what he could do when he struck out as hard as he could. The small, waking part of Mac's mind told him to run, to pay attention to the fact that Caramel was getting back up, but his dreamself was too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Dream-Mac was too overwhelmed by the fact that he had just started thinking about what was going on, and didn't realize that his buck wasn't the fight-stopper that he had assumed it was until he felt Caramel's hooves wrap around his back.
Panicking, Mac began to buck and jump to try and shake Caramel's grip, which only served to make Caramel squeeze harder onto the farmer. When the force of Caramel's forelegs started to make breathing harder, Mac lashed back his right elbow repeatedly to try and force Caramel off. With each solid strike against Caramel, Mac slowly began to grow more tired, and by the strength behind Caramel's grip, Mac's strikes seemed to have little effect.
Caramel began to inch his way forward along Mac's body, the undead farmhoof's forelegs getting closer and closer to Mac's neck as the farmer continued to struggle. Mac's breathing became more labored, he refused to die here. Grunting and braying with effort, Mac mustered up his energy and threw his body into the air and backwards, landing hard on the tightly packed ground.
Mac's head crashed against the hard ground when he landed, dazing him for a few moments, but the landing had managed to force Caramel off of Mac. Even in his momentary confusion, Mac still had the presence of mind to get away from Caramel as fast as he could. Mac dashed in between the trees and started to run as fast as his tired hooves could carry him. All around him the forest seemed to cry out in anger, the animals of the forest upset with this loud intruder who sprinted through their home.
As the howling of the animals grew louder, the farmer tried to run faster, tried to force his way through the twisted woods, but his legs struggled to find purchase below him. He began drifting in a sea of dying plants and unfamiliar landmarks. Mac soon found himself in another round clearing in the forest, surrounded by white trees with faces. The long, bony branches of the trees reached out and surrounded Mac as he drifted and began consuming his vision, Mac could feel their red eyes digging into him. Big Macintosh began to tremble, no longer able to remember why he had been running in the first place, sobbing as the faces circled him. Slowly the mouths on the faces began to open, a hollow ringing noise coming from deep within them, mixing with piercing shrieks, and the harsh howling of the wind.
Mac was tossed about by the noise, his broken sobs drowned out by the flood of sound that carried him. Mac's eyes searched for an escape, some way to get away from the mayhem that was consuming him, but the faces grew larger around him and began to close in. Mac's body shook to the rumbling emanating from the creature's gaping mouth, shaking his very core as a lone face began to consume all of his vision.
The eyes on the face slowly began to glow as if a bright fire burned behind them, as if it was waking up from a long sleep. Its eyes bore into Mac, making him feel as if all of his physical being had been stripped away, leaving him more vulnerable then he had ever been before. All of the sound around Mac slowly began to fade into the distance as the ethereal face uttered words in some sort of foreign language. A long speech spoken in words that sounded almost like a song, it wasn't until the end that Mac understood a single sentence of what the face was saying.
"Winter is coming."
With those words ringing in his mind, Big Macintosh woke up.
Big Macintosh's eyes opened slowly, he looked around from side to side to try and get a grasp on his surroundings. The first thing that registered in his mind was that he was light-headed from dehydration and exertion, he had been running through the forest since that afternoon. At first he had been trying to find Caramel, now he was trying to escape him.
The world around Big Macintosh throbbed, his head still in pain from when he had fought what was once Caramel. The world around him spun momentarily in a feverish haze, Mac had taken enough blows to the head to know when he had a concussion. Closing his eyes momentarily, Mac tried to concentrate on what he had been taught about wildlife survival when he was in the Colt Scouts. Mac slowly began testing out each portion of his body to see how badly he was hurt. Shifting his hindlegs, he could tell that his left hindleg had a nasty series of cuts just above the hoof, and as he made to stand he could feel the light weight of his half-packed saddle-bags weighing him down.
Raising fully to his hooves, Big Macintosh shook nearly a quarter of an inch of snow from his body, it had begun to snow while he was out. As he began brushing snow off of the rest of body and saddlebags, Mac started to feel his headache fade slightly, opening his eyes he could see a light snow falling from the cloudy sky. Mac narrowed his eyes at the brightness of the sun, even through the clouds the light bothered his vision, and though he couldn't tell for sure it appeared to be early morning. Taking note of his surroundings, he could see that he had been laying in the middle of a small clearing of trees. He winced as he recalled the similarities to the trees that he had seen in is dream, with their cold white bark and staring faces. Mac decided to chalk up the faces as one of the many reasons why he would never allow either of his sisters into this forest ever again.
Looking through his bags, Mac sighed as he took inventory of what he had brought with him, none of it would prove to be of much use. All he had brought with him was a carving knife that attached to the hoof, a wooden ruler with a balance, the cores of three apples that Mac had meant to be a snack for work before he had ventured into the forest, and his badge that proved he was the vice-captain of the Ponyville Militia. Mac grunted at the thought of the militia, he couldn't think of a more useless town guard program possible, and now they would be the ones called upon to search the Everfree for him.
Mac lifted his saddlebags back onto himself as he thought about the Militia, their roots had started when Mayor Mare had decided to make budget cuts on the Ponyville Guard, deciding that the town would be better if it didn't have to pay for an entire guard system that she had deemed "outdated", leaving the town entirely defenseless. Ponyville had payed the price for this naivety when Nightmare Moon had overthrown Celestia, since the lack of local law enforcement meant that the Princess's Royal Guard contingent had to ensure the safety of the town before they could pursue the villainous Nightmare Moon. After this event, Mayor Mare installed the militia, naming her nephew Thunderlane as commander and Big Macintosh as his second in command. Their current success could be summed up by their impact on stopping Trixie from taking over Ponyville.
Which was to say none at all.
Mac raised his head to look into the treeline, there wasn't time to dwell on that now, he had to pray that Thunderlane could get the stallions together and organized as fast as he possibly could. Mac began walking in the direction he assumed was North in hopes of getting into the militia's search area, if they could find him, then he could get home. Or they would all be lost together, either way his odds would improve. Maybe they would have water, his throat felt rough and dry.
Either way, I best get a move on, Mac winced at the thought, thinking hurt.
Mac had to go North, but he didn't have a compass. He could vaguely remember some way of being able to tell which direction was North, something about how moss grew on trees.
Mac stepped through the treeline, he had to go tell the rest of Ponyville about what was happening. From what Big Macintosh could tell, whatever happened to Caramel had happened to animals as well, as a rabbit had jumped out of the brush to attack him yesterday while he had been fleeing Caramel. Its head hung on a thread by the loose remnants of its neck, and it came at him with an awkward gait due to a broken leg. It carried a sharp bloodied rock that it waved towards Big Macintosh in a small arc. Mac stopped it by stomping on it. Hard.
A lot.
Mac maneuvered around a large stone that stood in his way, maybe somepony else knew how to stop all of this without kicking or stomping. Because Mac had tried kicking Caramel, and all Mac had gotten for it was a concussion.
Mac bowed his head as he pressed on, he couldn't think about it now, there was a long march ahead of him. It was best to simply think of the marching as a rhythm, paying attention to the repetitious actions that carried him forward. Mac focused on the crunching of the snow beneath his hooves, letting the rhythm carry each step he took.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Concentration was key to this practice, he had to focus on the noise just enough so it drew his attention away from the soreness of his legs and the tiredness of his body. Also from the fact that what was left of Caramel was possibly still chasing him.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
If he focused on the noise too hard, then he wouldn't pay attention to what was around him, he might trip on a root if he wasn't careful. He would have to be careful about that too, as he didn't think he had enough energy to pick himself back up if he fell.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Or he might get killed by a dead rabbit if he wasn't paying attention and the roots wouldn't matter.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Mac's throat began to burn and he stopped momentarily to fall onto his haunches, he picked up some snow to put in his mouth.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Mac let the cool snow slide down his throat, a small relief from the pain that his body had gone through in the past day. His eyelids began to feel heavier as he rested.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
The thought occurred to Mac that there wasn't supposed to be a crunching noise anymore, he wasn't even moving. Then his head began to throb again and he stopped thinking.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.
This was nice, his throat didn't hurt as much anymore, and he was resting his legs for a moment. He was sure that he had time before Caramel caught up to him, he had walked in what he assumed was the direction of Ponyville.
Suddenly, a great force threw Mac onto the ground like a ragdoll. In his weariness and shock he could hardly even try to pick himself up off the ground. Before he could even gather his senses a heavy weight fell upon his chest, pinning him to the ground. Mac opened his eyes. This was it. Caramel had found him. Caramel's blackened and bruised head didn't seem to bother him as he brought his hooves down around Mac's neck.
Mac smashed his forehooves into Caramel's face, trying to force the smaller stallion off. It was useless though, this time Caramel's grip held firmly to Big Macintosh's neck. As Mac's struggles began to weaken, the world started to turn black and cold. Big Macintosh could no longer find the energy to fight back, his forelegs falling limply to the ground at his sides. Soon the world was all darkness aside from Caramel's face.
Then a bright light shattered the darkness, and Big Macintosh breathed in.
Caramel had been knocked off of Mac by some unseen force, and a flaming arrow now sprouted from his neck. As Mac saw Caramel begin to rise again, a black blur set upon the undead stallion with a torch, planting it firmly into its neck alongside the arrow. Within moments, Caramel was consumed by fire, and Mac smiled as he realized his chase was over. Big Macintosh made to get back onto his hooves, but was knocked back onto the ground before he could right himself.
Big Macintosh opened his eyes, on top of him stood the largest wolf he had ever seen. Its fur was an almost blank white, emphasized by the blazing red of its eyes which dug straight into his own. Mac could feel the sharp claws of the wolf puncture his chest where they rested. The wolf's open jaws hung inches above Big Macintosh's neck, its teeth a quick snap away from ending his life. Mac concluded that the wolf mustn't have been trying to kill him, it would've been far too simple for it to end his life had it wanted to.
"Oi Jon," a voice called out from behind the wolf, "This horse looks a lot less dead than the other one."
"Aye Dolorous, there's bags on this one," this voice was different from the first, "Check to see what it’s carrying."
"Aye Lord Snow," the first voice spoke again as it drew closer, "Bag's got a picture of a' apple on it."
"Then the first bite's yours," the figure that Mac assumed owned this voice stepped into view around the wolf, "Ghost, to me."
The creature, Lord Snow it seemed, was walking straight to where Big Macintosh was laying. Whatever "Lord Snow" was, it seemed to be the one in charge its group as the the wolf and his companion immediately went about their orders. The one in charge was a fairly tall... thing that walked on two legs and it had two arms similar to a minotaur, except this creature lacked the imposing upper body of one. It had a small round head and a dark black mane that reached its shoulders, its skin was a milky white that emphasized the blackness of its cloak. From its neck down, this creature wore blackened leather and chainmail, almost entirely covered in some sort of dark fur. Mac shuddered at the thought of wearing a dead animal's fur. Lord Snow also carried some sort of weapon at its waist that was entirely covered by its clothing barring the hilt which was tipped by an oddly shaped white rock. It began to help Big Macintosh to his hooves.
Mac glanced over at the other creature, seemingly named Dolorous, that was kneeling in the snow, holding Mac's unopened saddlebags upon its knee. It was dressed similarly to Lord Snow, entirely in blackened leather, chain mail, and fur, at his side he laid down a tall wooden bow. While Mac couldn't tell for certain, since Dolorous was kneeling, he seemed to be taller than Lord Snow, and if the slight increase in size was anything to go by, Dolorous also seemed to be older than Lord Snow.
"I haven't 'ad an apple in ages, when I was a kid I always had to eat the cores since all me brothers and sisters got to 'em first," Dolorous spoke in a rather flat tone, "And the cores are tasteless."
"Then take the first bite," Lord Snow said as he brushed some snow off of Big Macintosh, "Just toss me one and save some for everyone back at camp."
As Lord Snow started to look over Big Macintosh to make sure he was healthy, wiping a bit of blood away from the draft horse's eye. Dolorous cut the strap off of Mac's bag and overturned it onto the snow, letting the small assortment of items fall to the ground. Including the apple cores.
"Typical," Dolorous stared forlornly at the three husks of apples that had landed in the dirt and snow.
"Well then," Lord Snow turned back to look at the contents of Mac's saddlebags, "Whoever packed this horse's bags wasn't planning to go far."
"I packed those myself," Big Macintosh decided to speak for the first time, "I didn't think I'd need much else."
Lord Snow's head whipped so hard across its neck, that in Big Macintosh's haze, it seemed the head might've up and decided to fly off. Lord Snow then merely blinked and stared at Big Macintosh as if he had grown a second head. The white wolf, Ghost if Big Macintosh remembered correctly, tilted its head at the sound of Mac's voice, but betrayed no other sign of surprise. Dolorous slowly rose off of the ground, his head turning to meet Big Macintosh's eyes.
Pacing around her small, messy house, Lyra had to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect. Sighing to herself, Lyra began making a mental checklist of what she had already done to make the house as calming of an atmosphere as possible. Quite frankly it wasn't every day that possibly hostile monsters were brought into your house for some tea and casual conversation to see exactly how homicidal they are.
Her window was repaired to light the room naturally. The old coffee table which had previously been cluttered with awful sketches and beer stained music sheets had been replaced with a far nicer coffee table. One with fancy drawers to hide her awful sketches and beer stained music sheets. Looking around to make sure that nothing was out of place, Lyra turned to the two militia ponies trying to scrub out a stain in the corner of the living area with a single wet sponge.
"Don't even try with that," Lyra told the militia ponies, "I've tried using practically everything to get that stain out, and it keeps coming back. I don't think your sponge is gonna make too much of a difference." Glaring at Lyra, the first militia pony made no effort whatsoever to hide his indignation.
"Look we came here on orders to make sure that your house was in presentable order," Dance Fever was the tan militia pony's name if Lyra remembered correctly, correcting his posture to sit taller he followed, "She should be more respectful to volunteer militia ponies, isn't that right Cosmic?" Startled at the sound of his name, the light yellow militia pony visibly jumped.
"What was that?" Cosmic looked over at his partner, "I wasn't paying attention, this stain won't come out." Sighing loudly, Dance brought a hoof to his forehead and relaxed his shoulders. Lyra smiled slightly to herself.
"Never mind Cosmic, just stop scrubbing the carpet, we should get on our way anyhow," Cosmic's face lit up as Dance Fever spoke, "Just one more thing to sort out before we head back to City Hall." Rising up on all four hooves, Dance Fever approached Lyra,
"I'm pretty sure I've got everything covered so far you two, I can handle a few conversations with these things," Lyra waved Dance Fever off dismissively, "Just some quick questions so we have something to tell the Princess Twilight Sparkle and her friends when they get back from the Equestria Games." Dance Fever shook his head at the mare.
"That's the thing though, your first talk isn't going to be with one of the humans," Dance Fever paused to let the fact sink in, "Your first interview is going to be Big Macintosh." Lyra was taken aback at this, she didn't couldn't think of a reason why Big Macintosh would need to be questioned. As she opened her mouth to ask Dance Fever, Cosmic stood up and approached the mare.
"The thing is," Cosmic spoke slowly, "After what Big Macintosh told us when he came back with those things, we ain't too sure if we should trust him."
"Why wouldn't you trust him?" Lyra turned her gaze to the second militia pony, "Isn't Big Macintosh Thuderlane's go to stallion when it comes to this militia stuff?" Dance Fever shook his head.
"Usually he's the second in command, and one of the only stallions around who nopony else would question when he would tell us what to do," Dance Fever shook his head, "But what he told us about what happened in the Everfree, we don't know what to think." Lyra's mood took a shift for the worse, if Big Macintosh had lost the militia's trust, then this was something far more serious than the standard Everfree afair. Cosmic shifted uncomfortably.
"If that's all, we should take our leave now," Dance Fever nodded to Lyra.
"We'll bring them over one at a time starting at nine in the morning so you can have each interview separately," Dance Fever nodded to Lyra, "Now if there's nothing else you need from us we'll be headed back to City Hall." Taking a moment to glance around the house one more time, Lyra could only think of one more task for the militia ponies as they left.
"If you'd just go grab the box marked 'Emergency' from my shed and bring it in here I think that'd be enough." With that Cosmic and Dance Fever went outside, Dance Fever came back a minute later with the box balanced on his back.
"With all do respect ma'am," Dance said with a hint of concern, "This is just a box filled with alcohol." Dance Fever turned to leave as Lyra levitated the box off of his back.
"Emergency whiskey," Lyra said to herself as the front door closed behind the militia pony, staring at the three remaining bottles packed into the box she grimaced, "Tomorrow's gonna be a rough day."
