//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7: The Howls and the Sickly Screams 
// Story: To Keep the Fire Burning 
// by DannyJ 
//------------------------------//

The woods stank of blood. It even overpowered the smell of my emptied stomach contents. The Legend had left carnage in his wake. Everywhere I looked there were pieces of the prince, not that his remains were in any way identifiable. The other dead deer were more intact, but their corpses were no less nauseating to look at. I had to avert my gaze when I saw the one with the hole in his chest, as I remembered how the Chaos Paladin had somehow teleported inside him and tore his way out. The very memory made me gag.

When I staggered back into the camp itself, the guard who'd fallen face-first into the fire was still cooking away, and the three Chaos Paladins were acting like they didn't even notice him. The burning flesh and hair mixed with the ever-present stench of blood, creating a new odour somehow fouler than the sum of its parts. I wanted to run back out and start retching again, but I fought the urge and simply picked up my weapons and helmet. I didn't want to spend a single moment more in this place, and I had people to rescue besides, so as soon as I had everything and was properly equipped, I went to leave.

As I started heading east into the forest, I was stopped by a paw clapping on my shoulder. I looked back to find Witchcraft in her fancy robes, hunched over and grinning at me from under the brim of her enormous hat.

"Heading out, are you?" she said in a scratchy voice. "If you still seek Madam Zecora's, I would join you."

I pulled away from the diamond dog.

"What do you want there?" I asked. "To stage another massacre like this one? Hmm? Maybe eat somepony alive and make me watch? No, I'm done with Chaos Paladins! I'm done with all of you! You're sick, twisted individuals, and I want no part of whatever scheme you're hatching!"

I tried to gallop away, but she ran in front and cut me off, somehow faster on two legs than I was on four.

"Hold up, hold up!" she said. "I'm no Chaos Paladin. You may find my state of dress bizarre, but don't be mistaken. Didn't you hear the stallion before? I'm like you. I'm here for my own reasons."

"And what would those be?"

Witchcraft stood straight, allowing me to finally see her face. It was saggy and wrinkled, and her fur was going grey, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes that lent her a sense of youthful energy in spite of that.

"I am a wizard," she said, placing a paw over her heart. "In my time, I was the most honoured professor of the Dragon School of Dimondia. I live for discovery, but alas, knowledge is not so freely accessed these days. Madam Zecora is one of the greatest alchemists to ever live, and she resides here in these woods. I would learn from her, if I could."

I sighed.

"Fine. You can come with me. But fair warning, I'm not the best warrior, and if it comes down to it, I probably can't protect you from another deer attack."

Witchcraft gave me an unnerving grin. "I can defend myself just fine, little pony. I just need somepony to run distraction for me."

I tentatively turned back to the eastward path and started trotting, the wizard following close behind.

I'm going to die again, aren't I?





Chapter 7:
The Howls and the Sickly Screams





The path to Madam Zecora's was a long one, or at least it felt that way. We didn't see any more deer on our way, but the forest animals slowed us down enough by themselves. Giant bats swooped overhead, snakes slithered under our legs and tried to bite through my armour to no effect, and a swarm of large insects called "parasprites" buzzed around us for long enough to become annoying. We didn't make good time because of all of these minor nuisances, but the long walk at least gave us opportunity to talk. Which was good, because I had questions to ask about Grim and the diamond dog nation.

I started off by telling Witchcraft all about my encounter with Grim, beginning with how we'd found him imprisoned in the Ponyville Schoolhouse and freed him, and then onto how he'd turned out to be a wizard. I recounted how he'd said he was going to seek out a great teacher from back home, and finally made the connection and realised that he had been talking about her. Then finally, I told her of how I learned that he was allegedly a Dimondian spy, who had actually been imprisoned by the Way of White.

Witchcraft chuckled at that.

"Ah, yes... the spooks of Dimondia. Renowned around the world, exactly as spies shouldn't be. No doubt this Grim you speak of was sent to assassinate me. Or perhaps just spy on me... Yet, either way, posing as a fan seeking my tutelage is a poor ruse, even for the likes of them. They should know that I would see through it... Perhaps they thought appealing to my ego would override my common sense?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "What if he's not here for you? What if he's here to spy on the Way of White, and you're just a misdirection?"

"Hmph." Witchcraft stroked her chin. "Could be, pony. Could be..."

While she'd taken the time to introduce herself to me, Witchcraft for whatever reason hadn't asked for my name. She seemed perfectly happy to just call me "pony" and leave it at that. I thought it would annoy me after a while, but I just found it strange. I didn't volunteer the information myself, though. If she didn't care, then there didn't seem much of a point.

"Why would your homeland want to have you assassinated anyway?"

"Treason. Dimondia is a kingdom with politics to think of, but my loyalty is to knowledge, not to a nation. For twenty years now, I've been on a quest of discovery. I sought to learn from any who had something to teach, no matter who they may be. I consorted with everybody from the lowly chaos sorcerers of Leota to the Lady of Dusk herself."

Witchcraft looked slightly away from me.

"And... yes... I learned from the Way of White too. The monks of the Twilight Acolytes are among the most learned scholars in the world today, and the Church's treasures and secrets are many. But I did not want to swear an oath of servitude to gods I'm not even sure I believe in, so inside knowledge of the Dragon School of Dimondia was the price demanded of me."

I stared at her through the slit in my visor.

"You're judging me," said Witchcraft, grabbing the brim of her hat and pulling it lower.

I turned my eyes back to the path. The area we were in now was particularly dark, even with the sunlight coming through the treetops, and the dirt road we were following was getting narrow.

"...I'm trying not to," I said as our path twisted around a tree. "I don't know anything about Dimondia or its conflict with the Church, so it's not my place to judge. But a treason charge would make anybody think twice."

"My actions were questionable, but the information I sold was hardly privileged. Any dog of Dimondia could have learned the same from simply enrolling in my classes and observing. The king scorns me now, but it's not because I harmed his kingdom. It's because I dared to befriend people that he despises. He is a proud dragon, motivated by emotion, not rationality."

I stumbled at that.

"...The diamond dog nation has a dragon for a king?"

"King Shulva," she said, nodding. "Also known as Shulva the Sinner, and Shulva the Slumbering. In ancient times, Dimondia elected its royalty, choosing whoever seemed most likely to lead us to glory. The monarch who dons the Diamond Crown serves for life, unless he loses the faith of the electorate, just as the alpha rules his pack only so long as he is the strongest. But sometimes, the one we found most worthy wasn't a dog. Quite often it was a pony, or a griffon, or a donkey. And in one case, nearly four hundred years ago, it was a dragon, who has ruled over us ever since."

"...Hence the Dragon School, I suppose."

"Indeed." Witchcraft nodded sagely. "Before King Shulva's rule, Dimondia was a mining kingdom, like Underhaven before us. But now it is the Dragon School that is our pride and glory, and the mines beneath the kingdom are secondary."

"Huh. Well, I've definitely learned something new today."

Witchcraft grinned. "I should hope so. I wouldn't be a very good teacher otherwise."

I honestly wouldn't have minded having Witchcraft for a teacher. When I was a colt, I'd always found school extremely dull. We'd only ever had one teacher in Brittlesworth, an old half-deaf mare who'd been nearly a hundred before she died. My mother told me that she had been a good teacher in her youth, but by the time I'd had her, she had become too feeble to control her class, so we'd never really learned anything. Gran had taught me more than school ever did, if it could even be called school at all; Brittlesworth had no schoolhouse, so classes had been held in the old mare's home instead.

"So, you mentioned Underhaven. What is that?"

"The first kingdom of the diamond dogs, before Dimondia. It was built below the mountains far to the south. Sadly fallen now, but in its day, it was great indeed..."

For much of the rest of the way, Witchcraft regaled me with the story of Underhaven and diamond dog history. There were tales of heroism, tyranny, tragedy, and triumph, just as there would be in the history of any kingdom. Unfortunately, we were still in the Everfree, so sooner or later the relative peacefulness passed, and we were thrust into danger.

The howling came as a warning. We kept walking, but Witchcraft went quiet, listening to the distant baying of wolves. Her ears twitched slightly, and she shushed me when I tried to whisper questions. With a wave of her staff, she erected a shimmering purple barrier around us.

"...Be ready," she whispered to me. "This may actually challenge us; if they attack, it will be as a pack."

It was not long before she was proven right. They cut across our path ahead, and stalked around behind us into the woods again. More appeared soon after. Only they weren't wolves. They looked like wolves, but their bodies were cobbled together from sticks and logs, and their eyes shined a sinister green. They prowled around the outside of the shield bubble, snarling as they circled us.

"...Can this hold against them?" I asked.

One of them lunged against the outside of the shield, snapping its wooden jaw. I wasn't sure if the bite did anything, but the force of the impact as it headbutted the shield caused a small crack to form. The wooden wolf backed away, shaking its head and barking.

"Depends on if they do that again."

Behind us, another wolf headbutted the shield. Then a third. Then it became a frenzy. They all growled and snarled and bit, and a few leapt up against the shield and started scratching it with their claws, as if they were trying to climb on top of it or roll it over. With every attack, more cracks started slithering across the shield. Witchcraft closed her eyes, and her gnarled wooden staff glowed all over, washing away the cracks. But as soon as they were gone, they were already advancing back.

"No, I can't hold it. I'm going to shockwave them and see if we can scare them off. Be ready to fight."

I drew my shield and pulled Brightflame from its scabbard.

"Ready."

The shield expanded outwards suddenly. It hit the wolves and threw them back, smashing some of them against the trees and sending the rest flying.

As soon as the shield was gone, Witchcraft raised her staff and fired a magical beam at the closest wolf, shattering it into pieces. I turned to my nearest wolf as well and swung at it while it was still on the ground. It too broke apart under the force of the blow, reduced to a pile of burning wood. The wooden wolves seemed fearsome, but they weren't held together strongly. One of them raced over and lunged at me, but I cut it down midair, sending flaming splinters across the forest floor.

"Come on, then!" I roared. "You're all made of wood! See what happens!"

Three of them went for me at once, two closing their jaws around my legs and one going for my face, but there wasn't much they could do to me in plate armour. I struggled to throw them off, and hacked away at them with Brightflame. One of them survived a blow, but caught fire, forcing it to let me go. It ran around in a panic, howling and crying just like a real wolf would. I blocked out the distraction and tried to focus on the others, particularly the ones closing on Witchcraft.

She reacted fast, blasting them apart before they could reach her, but one of them was too quick. It tackled her to the ground, making Witchcraft drop her staff. I tried to get in and help, but another wolf was soon upon me, and I had to deal with it first. Witchcraft held back her attacker as it snapped her face, and to my surprise, she growled at the creature and bared her teeth to it. By the time I was free to move again, she had flipped it over so that she was on top, and was biting the wooden wolf's leg. I didn't have a clear shot anymore, so I focused on defending her from the rest of the pack.

Soon, the whole scene was aflame, as the forest quickly caught fire from the burning remnants of the wolves. Acrid smoke filled my nostrils, and forced me into fits of coughing, while sweat ran in rivulets down my face. By now, I had reduced enough of the beasts to kindling that the pack was backing off, but one last wolf still wrestled with Witchcraft as his brothers fled. The two separated, and now circled each other while growling. Witchcraft had lost her hat, and remained on all fours for some reason, fur standing up and maw covered in tree sap. The smoke made her eyes water, but she paid it barely any heed.

I ended the spectacle with one last swing of my sword. Witchcraft cringed as the burning bits of wood flew past her face. I stood there for a few seconds, looking down at down at her, and she blinked as she realised her position and stood upright again.

"...Are you sure you're not a Chaos Paladin?" I said, choking on the air.

"Please, forgive me," she coughed. "I'm not quite sure what came over me there."

I looked around at the forest, now obscured by the smoke, yet illuminated in an orange glow. The spreading fire crackled away, and the trees were charring black.

"Well... maybe I'm not one to talk."

The deer prince was probably right to hate me...





It wasn't much further to go to Madam Zecora's. Once the attack was over, Witchcraft smothered the forest fire with some kind of spell, and we resumed our journey. The path was clear from danger from then on, with everything around that might have otherwise posed a threat scared off by the fire.

However, we did start running into plenty of crows.

The last stretch was full of them. They were pecking the eyes out of what must've been a hundred corpses. Across the path, beside it, and further into the woods as well, the ground was strewn with bodies, all bloody and shredded and covered in mud. Some were missing limbs or bits of skin. Many had bite marks and chunks of flesh ripped out from where bigger animals had savaged them. But the war wounds on some of them showed that this wasn't just the work of animals. Some had obviously been killed by the sword or spear, and one dead stallion even still had an axe buried in his skull. And just as everywhere else, not a single one of the bodies were deer. They were all Cleric-Knights and Chaos Paladins.

Witchcraft and I tried to hurry through. The stink of blood and excrement coming off of them made my eyes water. The trail of bodies seemed never-ending, the remains of their faces all frozen in looks of terror and shock. Some still clutched their weapons, but plenty had dropped theirs somewhere. The ground was littered with them, lost swords, spears, maces, axes, shields, and helmets, along with severed limbs and bloody bones. At one point, we stepped across a fallen Way of White flag, lying in a muddy puddle.

Sir Penance wasn't lying. This was a massacre.

Despite my disgust, I didn't shy away from looking at them. I had to be sure. I'd come to find Sister Pilgrimage and the brothers, and I meant to do it. Most of the Chaos Paladin corpses were minotaurs, so I studied them with particular fearfulness, but I didn't see any in snakeskin leather. I did find a dead Sister of Solace amongst all the carnage, momentarily making my heart jump into my throat, but I soon realised it wasn't Pilgrimage; the dead nun's blood was red, where Pilgrimage would've bled green. A closer look at her face confirmed it.

"We should have started the forest fire here," said Witchcraft. "Burned all this horror away."

I wished we had.

The corpses plagued the trail all the way to the end, where it eventually stopped in front of a gnarled and twisted tree. A doorway and two circular windows adorned the front of the tree, light pouring out from within, and colourful corked bottles on the ends of strings hung from the branches. The scene reminded me of the crystal castle in Ponyville, aside from all the spooky masks mounted over the tree. But when done with a real tree, in this gloomy forest, surrounded by so much death, it was less grand than it was just plain scary.

Witchcraft and I approached with some trepidation.

"Do you think there's even anybody alive in there?" I asked.

"I'm told that Madam Zecora's home is protected by magic. If that's true, there is a chance that she and any others inside may have survived."

"Let's hope so..."

I raised a hoof to knock on the door, but was startled as a snarling came from within. I tore Brightflame from its scabbard, ready for another attack, but a muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

"Hush, little one; no need to fear," said the voice, deep yet feminine. "Hello, travellers? Who comes here?"

Hey, that rhymed.

"Missionaries," I answered, putting Brightflame away. "Have you accepted the Four as your lords and saviours?"

The door opened up, and a wrinkled mare poked her head out, giving us a wry smile. Her coat and mane were both marked by black and white stripes, and she wore golden rings around her neck, as well as on her ears.

"A joke's an awful thing to waste, but here and now, it's in poor taste."

Oh, I see what she's doing.

"Yeah, well, I need some levity after what I've just seen."

It took me a moment to realise who she reminded me of. I'd run across a Chaos Paladin in Sweet Apple Acres who'd also had black and white stripes. Not exactly like this mare's, but very similar. I'd assumed at the time that they were just another weird fashion statement, but maybe this was a natural coat pattern in Equestria.

Witchcraft stepped forward before either of us could say anything more.

"Madam Zecora," she said. "The famous zebra shaman of the Everfree. I have journeyed far to find you. A great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Witchcraft offered a paw, and Madam Zecora took it in hoof.

"This meeting is my pleasure, too. Please come in, the both of you."

She fully opened the door and stood aside, letting Witchcraft through first and then me. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I stopped in my tracks. A furry grey animal sat just inside the room. It was a wolf. A real wolf this time, not a wooden one. It stared at me with its golden-yellow eyes, and leaned forward to sniff the leg of my armour. I looked over to Zecora as she shut the door and walked past me into the room.

"There is no cause to feel alarm. My lupine friend will do no harm."

I took off my helmet and placed it on a table to my right. The wolf rose, almost as tall as me at his standing height, and sniffed my face too. Then he began licking it. I let it go on for a bit, thinking he'd stop eventually. When he didn't, I gently shoved him off.

"Okay, enough of that."

The wolf sat down again and tilted his head. I paused, considering him for a second.

"Lay down," I said on a whim.

And he did.

"Roll over."

And he did that too, rolling onto his back and letting his tongue loll out of his mouth. It made him look like he was smiling.

...Well that's just adorable.

"Well-trained animal you have here," I said, leaning down to rub his belly.

"The wolf’s not mine, but that is so," said Zecora. "His former master helped him grow."

I sat on the floor while I kept petting him, and took a look around at the rest of the hut.

It was all one room, aside from a pair of alcoves on my right, the furthest of which I couldn't see into from where I was. Numerous shelves lined the walls, filled with bottles, jars, cups, and bowls, as well as candles and books. More creepy masks were mounted where there were no shelves, and yet more corked bottles hung from the ceiling on strings, just like outside. But the centrepiece of the room was the cauldron, bubbling away over a firepit. I didn't know what it was cooking, but an aroma of garlic was wafting off of it.

Witchcraft stood in the first alcove by the table, wringing her paws.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "My name is Professor Witchcraft, also known as Big Hat. I travel the world in search of knowledge. Your name... is quite famed in certain circles. The scholars of the Twilight Acolytes speak highly of you, and I have been a distant admirer for some time... I come hoping, nay, begging for you to please share your wisdom with me. I cannot consider my quest any kind of success without some input from the greatest alchemist of all time."

Madam Zecora laughed.

"Flattery gets you everywhere, but I’ve another in my care. A pony crusader is staying here, in hiding from the wolves and deer."

Almost as if on cue, a hooded pony in tatty, dull brown robes emerged from the second alcove. A number of what looked like patterned scarves were wrapped around his midsection, where an axe also hung in a holster, and colourful beads lined his neckchain and hoof bracelets. He looked like a Chaos Paladin to me. He was certainly odd enough to be one. He said nothing, quietly looking between me and Witchcraft, as if expecting us to make the first move.

I stood and crossed the room. The wolf rolled upright to watch me. I'd been intending to avoid any more Chaos Paladins I came into contact with, but I needed information if I was going to find Pilgrimage and the brothers.

"Hello there," I said amiably, holding out a hoof. "Nice to meet you, Paladin...?"

I was expecting him to do something bizarre. Instead, he just gripped my hoof and shook it.

"Lawless," he said, his voice a murmur. "Lawless of Leota."

"I'm here searching for some people, Lawless. A nun named Sister Pilgrimage, and a pair of Chaos Paladin brothers called Great Victory and Small Nicety. Victory and Nicety are minotaurs in patchwork armour of snakeskin leather and metal. One's big and carries a mace, and the other's small and has a battleaxe. Sister Pilgrimage is changeling, but she takes the form of a white unicorn mare. They might've been accompanied by a Cleric-Knight. Did you see them? Do you know where they went?"

Lawless looked at the ground.

"Mmm," he muttered. "Can't say I know 'em by name, but I remember 'em. Don't get many Sisters of Solace in the woods. Maybe two or three at the southeast camp. One of 'em had a pair of Paladins guardin' her."

"The southeast camp?" I pressed. "Where is that?"

"It was close to here. Until the deer came last dark day and slaughtered us." Lawless closed his eyes and shook his head. "So much death... so much blood... it ran in rivers..."

That was disconcerting.

"I believe we may have walked through the remains of that on the way here," said Witchcraft.

Zecora sighed.

"Not so. Their camp was south and east. The western road’s where crows now feast."

"They fell upon us at the camp..." said Lawless. "Came at us from the west, hit us too hard to fight back, so we ran any other way we could. Those what you saw on the road are the ones that went north, making for the Acres, but they were ambushed. I reckon some made it through, but the deer got most of 'em. I was with the lot that went east. We were caught up against the cliffs and slaughtered. I'm all that remains of that lot. Only just escaped. Got here too late to be butchered on the road with the others, but I can't get through meself..."

"Why not?" asked Witchcraft.

"They left timberwolves on the west road to catch the stragglers... A whole pack of 'em. They've been prowling out there since yesterday. I reckon they've got my scent. And they ain't leavin' 'til they've got me."

"Well, I think you can relax," I said. "I'm pretty sure Witchcraft and I killed them all."

"Hrmm, not likely," said Witchcraft, leaning against the wall and frowning. "Timberwolves break easily, but they can always reassemble, unless you destroy their darkwood hearts. The ones you burned might not trouble us again, but even so, they're constructs of a hivemind, not flesh and blood. Until we destroy the screaming tree that controls them, the pack will always survive."

"Well, that's... annoying..."

Just then, I noticed the looks on Lawless and Zecora's faces. Both of them were staring at us in wide-eyed horror.

"...What?" I said.

Before either of them could answer, a thunderous crashing sounded from outside, followed by a long, baleful howl and a series of smaller thumps. The wolf by the door whimpered and started racing around the room. I reluctantly moved over to one of the windows, and peered out into the forest. A few of the trees that had been standing before were now fallen.

Then it came into view. It was a timberwolf alright, just like the ones we'd fought on the road. Only this one was the size of a house, and not a small house either. Where regular timberwolves had been built of sticks, this one had logs. Where they had logs, this one had entire trees. It was bigger than the Asylum demon. It was bigger than Frampt. It was the most singularly enormous monster I'd ever seen.

I edged back from the window and breathed deep.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhkay... it can't get in here, right?"

The wolf let out a long whine, while Lawless curled up in a ball on the floor. Witchcraft just stared blankly out the window.

"Timberwolves are arbomancers..." she said, slowly. "We are inside a tree. I don't think this is the most secure place to be right now."

"The timberwolves can’t harm us here," said Zecora. "My wards will hold it, have no fear."

All the same, I floated my helmet over and fitted it back on.

"So, do we have a plan?" I asked. "How are we going to fight it off?"

Witchcraft barked out a laugh.

"I am not fighting that beast. It's not worth the effort. If it can't get in here, then I'm perfectly content to wait however long it takes for it to go away."

I pursed my lips, peering out through the windows and considering my next move. If Lawless was right, that monster out there was not going away anytime soon. I didn't know if Pilgrimage or the brothers were alive or dead, but on the off-chance that they'd survived, how much longer could they last? Did I have time to wait out a siege before I resumed my search? What if they died while I was sitting in here, waiting for a monster to go away when it never would?

I looked down at my sword. Fire beat wood, I knew that much. The timberwolves I'd faced earlier had proven easy foes. Their wooden teeth were barely strong enough to scratch my armour, and they'd each shattered with a single blow. This one... probably not so easy, but... surely it was the same in principle? If I could just set it alight, that'd make quick work of it at any size, right? I just had to be careful that it didn't crush me to death and leave me incapacitated for a day. That would be a good thing to avoid.

I sighed and drew Brightflame again.

This is a bad idea.

Witchcraft gave me a look like I was mad, but I just looked to her and shrugged.

"It's made of wood," I said. "How hard can it be to burn?"

I went to open the front door, but Witchcraft's paw on my shoulder stopped me.

"Hold on," she said. "That thing won't shatter as easily as the others. If you mean to burn it down, you need to be sure it's going to burn. You have to lodge that sword somewhere that'll give the fire time to catch."

"Or, alternatively, I could just throw fire spells at it until one sticks."

Witchcraft blinked and released me.

"Okay, sorry. I didn't expect you to know any pyromancy. Most unicorns only know one or two spells related to their talent."

"Yeah, well, same here."

Before she could say anything else, I stepped out into the forest.

The giant timberwolf prowled about between the trees, glowering at me through the wood with its luminescent green eyes. I stepped around the corpses, and the carrion crows flew off as I held my sword before me and faced down my foe. The timberwolf lowered its head and growled, amber fluid dripping from its maw. I noticed now that it had a wooden crown atop its head, like a king. That made me smirk momentarily.

It came bounding forward, smashing through any trees in its way and trampling the corpses underfoot. I leapt to the side as it came upon me, rolling through a muddy puddle and narrowly dodging a falling tree. Brightflame was by my side, but my saddlebags came loose and fell off. I didn't have time to be concerned about that at the moment. The timberwolf was still on me. It snarled and pounced again, and I rolled for a second time and ended up beneath it.

"Hurragh!"

I struck its hind leg with Brightflame, and the beast let out a pained howl, but no blood flowed. My sword was embedded in the wolf's leg like a hatchet stuck in a trunk. Clearly I wasn't a very good lumberjack, but the flame appeared to be catching, so I left my sword there for the moment and ran out from under the monster. I wasn't expecting it to flop on top of me like the Asylum demon had, but I didn't want to give it the chance either way.

The timberwolf snapped its head around to snarl at me. I leapt over a fallen tree, and rolled under another. The timberwolf dashed forward and snapped at me with its jaw, but missed. I whirled around and quickly backed away from it while charging my magic. Its back leg was becoming engulfed in flame, and the timberwolf was now walking with a limp. It whined and whimpered between snarls.

It was the first time I had attempted pyromancy since the Asylum. With my new magic, I'd been worried that it would feel different and weird, but it was the same as ever. Fire was primal, barely any more complicated to summon than telekinesis. I let off a flurry of flames in the timberwolf's direction as it lunged at me, the fire blindingly bright in the dismal forest.

The timberwolf screeched and barrelled into me regardless, its whole body wreathed in flames. I cursed as a great mass of burning wood pinned me to the ground, crushing my armour against me. I soon became keenly aware of the heat. For a second, I couldn't breathe, but the timberwolf rolled off of me, screaming like I'd never heard a canine scream before. By some miracle, I was able to pull myself up and stagger away.

I looked back at the burning timberwolf as it thrashed and kicked in its death throes. Brightflame was still stuck in its leg, so I wrenched the sword free. By now, the beast was just crying out in pain, no longer even paying attention to me. I closed my eyes in a grimace. The only thing I could do for it now was to finish it off. I summoned my magic to me and unleashed another gout of flame. Even through my eyelids I could see the following flash, my flames as brilliant as they always were.

The timberwolf soon went silent, leaving only the sound of crackling flames filling the forest. When I opened my eyes and wrenched off my helmet, the forest was nothing but orange and black, and my nostrils were filled with smoke. My surcoat was ruined, so I tore it off my scorched and blackened armour and threw it in a puddle.

I tried to turn back to Madam Zecora's hut.

"Hurghk..." A sharp pain in my legs and chest made me wince. "Yep, that's what I was afraid of..."

I nearly collapsed, but before I knew it, Witchcraft and Lawless were by my side. I didn't even see where they'd come from. They propped me up and walked me back towards the hut, while the grey wolf jumped around excitedly and ran circles around us. Sweat dripped from my brow, and I was distantly aware of Zecora shouting something in rhyme, but I paid no attention to it.

"By all the gods," Witchcraft grumbled. "That's two forest fires you've started in less than an hour now. What is your special talent anyway? Arson?"

Soon I was lying back on Zecora's bed, protesting weakly as they stripped me of my armour and wrapped me in bandages in all the places I'd been bleeding from. I complained that I didn't have time to sit around and wait to recover, but they ignored me. Witchcraft applied a spell to numb the pain, and Madam Zecora gave my wounds a healing salve before she bandaged them. Then she went to prepare a potion of some kind. While I lay on the bed and contemplated my own stupidity, the wolf came up and started licking my face. He didn't stop until Lawless pulled him away.

"Easy, boy," he muttered.

"Is the wolf yours?" I asked, trying to ignore the itching feeling under my bandages.

"'Fraid not, friend. Chaos Paladin named Howler raised this one. He kept wolves for our warband. But he was one of them that died on the western road, and Sif here's the last of his litter, far as we know."

Sif half-climbed onto the bed and nuzzled his head into the crook of my neck.

"He's... awfully affectionate for a wolf raised by Chaos Paladins..."

Lawless shrugged. "He's only a pup. Four month old, maybe. Barely had any time to grow mean."

Witchcraft and Zecora soon returned with the potion, so Lawless and Sif had to move aside. After a single sip, I spat the bitter drink back out.

"Bloody hell, that tastes like cat piss!"

"You had better drink up," said Witchcraft, glaring at me. "Timberwolf breath contains a minor neurotoxin, and if there's any of it in your system, you'll be mentally impaired for days."

Zecora solemnly nodded.

"The toxin’s impact fades in time, but its effects are not benign. Even to dragons it's often dire; I once knew a young one who forgot his fire."

I grumbled and finished off the potion in one gulp, trying my best not to taste it.

"Eugh. Next time, just kill me and let the curse purge my system instead."

"You were the one who insisted on fighting the timberwolf," said Witchcraft. "You have only yourself to blame. Although, credit where due, your pyromancy was quite impressive. Particularly that last spell. I've never seen fire burn so brightly. Did you say before that pyromancy was your talent?"

"My talent encompasses pyromancy."

Madam Zecora passed me another bottle of mystery liquid.

"Drink up, brave knight, and drink it deep, that you might heal while you sleep."

I sullenly took the bottle. All I could do now was hope that Pilgrimage and the brothers could survive a little longer without me, if indeed they were still alive at all.

"I'm not a knight," I said, before gulping it down. This one at least was more palatable.

The sleeping draught took effect quickly. I had no sooner put the bottle down than a feeling of drowsiness began to overtake me.

"So..." said Witchcraft, leaning over me. "What is it really then?"

My eyelids were too heavy, so I let them fall and took a long breath.

"Fire is light..." I mumbled. "I make it burn brighter..."





The interior of Zecora's hut was the same in the dream as it was in reality, but it wasn't like the Fire-Keeper's Dream at all. Every other time I'd dreamed since coming to Equestria, I went to a quiet and peaceful place. But here, the air was filled with the sounds of battle. Dying screams mixed with the clangor of steel and the baying of wolves. I put my hooves to my ears to block it out, but it did nothing to stop them.

I ran out of the hut and into the forest, but there was no battle outside. There were only motes of light floating between the trees. I darted through them in search of an escape, but the sounds of battle only became more vivid. When I passed by the lights, they would flicker, briefly becoming Cleric-Knights and Chaos Paladins just long enough for me to see them get cut down or savaged. I wept as I ran, and tried to close my eyes to the horror, but I couldn't do that either.

Finally, a hoof gripped around my neck and pulled me back, holding me still.

"Calm yourself, and focus on my voice."

I couldn't stop crying.

"Sir Iron...?"

"They are only phantoms. Psychic echoes of the souls slain in the waking world. Ghosts cannot hurt you if you do not give them life."

I focused on him as he said, breathing deep and trying to block out everything but his voice.

"It's horrible, Sir Iron... I can feel them."

He released his grip. "Then close yourself to that feeling. These are just shadows. The dead have no use for your pity."

The screams and the sounds of battle were starting to fade. The forest remained the same, and the lights did not disappear, but I was feeling calmer now.

"...Is this... Are we outside the Fire-Keeper's Dream? Is this Darkwraith territory?"

Sir Iron shook his head. "No. The Everfree is protected as surely as the Acres are. Despite the deer's aversion to the flame, a bonfire does burn in Thicket, and a powerful one at that for its protection to reach this far out."

"Huh? But I thought the deer were heretics or in league with the Darkwraiths or something?"

We headed back towards Zecora's hut. The motes of light between the trees still flickered into images of death, but I tried to ignore them as best I could. It was easier when I had something else to focus on, though some of them still made me cringe away.

"Much misinformation is spread about the deerfolk of Thicket. In ancient times, they did indeed have communion with Order, the Dark Lord. Yet, I can promise you that the Darkwraiths are no friends of the deer now, and Thicket's current spiritual practices are... unorthodox. They venerate saints and souls these days, and the Way of White are not being honest about their motives."

"Then what are they after, if not the red eye orbs?"

Sir Iron shrugged.

"Many things, I would imagine, but their designs are obscured from my view. Most of the White crusaders truly believe that they're here just for the orbs, but the commanders are a different story. I cannot see their full intentions, but I do not trust them. Especially not the bishop. His dreams disturb me."

There was no bonfire inside Zecora's hut, so we gathered around the cauldron instead. It was empty in the dream, and the firepit was cold, but it would serve.

"Hey, Sir Iron, I've been meaning to ask... I have a red eye orb of my own in the waking world, but it's never with me when I fall asleep. How do I bring it into the Fire-Keeper's Dream?"

"Press the yellow eye inwards, and the orb will transform you into energy and transport you to the Dreamscape. It will come with you then. Do the same in the dreaming world to return to reality. But it is not the same as falling asleep. To dream is to project your consciousness into this world, while leaving your body behind. To use a red eye orb is to come here truly, in body and soul. You cannot bring a red eye orb into the dream merely by sleeping."

"Hmm... So... if I was asleep, and dreaming normally, and then used a red eye orb in the dream to go back to reality, what would happen? Would there be two Firelinks?"

Sir Iron cleared his throat.

"Not in the sense that you're thinking of. A red eye orb changes your physical form into energy, but that energy remembers what it used to be, and this 'memory' can be used to change you back when you return. A projected consciousness, however, was never physical, and so has no memory to reconstruct a body from. The orb would try its best to make you physical, but you would return in a magical construct of sorts, not a body. Inevitably, such a thing would fade and disappear within minutes, like a spell wearing off, and you would die."

"Riiiight... gotcha. Not doing that then."

I slumped over, leaning on the rim of the empty cauldron and staring into its depths. For a while, I waited there, contemplating my mission and the forest I found myself in. I thought of the time I was wasting back in the physical world, waiting to heal, and the peril that Sister Pilgrimage must have been in at that moment. But then I had a thought, and sat up suddenly again.

"Hold on... Sir Iron, you're always able to find me. You tracked me through Ponyville, and you found me here in the forest... Would you be able to scout the Everfree and find Sister Pilgrimage and the minotaurs for me while I'm stuck here?"

Sir Iron paused.

"...I could..." he said carefully. "However, it is not as simple as that. Thicket truly does have red eye orbs, and they do use them; the Forest Guardians patrol the dream to make sure that other orb-users can't sneak into their city. They don't usually venture far from Thicket's dream counterpart, nor do they like to do battle in dreams, but if they feel threatened, then they will. I doubt that defeating dream-walking deer would be beyond my abilities, but... it would be a complication."

"Okay then. Fair enough."

"...I never said I wouldn't do it. I only want you to understand the risk of what you ask of me."

I hadn't been expecting him to say that.

"But... if it's a risk to you... I couldn't ask you to put yourself in harm's way."

"You have already asked, and I have already stated my willingness. You need only confirm it. I will be quite content to play my part."

"But why would you be willing to risk your life just because I asked you?"

"Chivalry and duty are part of being a knight. Gallivanting off into the forest to rescue fair maidens is expected of me. You, however, are just a pony in armour; I would like to know your excuse."

I shrugged.

"Unresolved grief issues, I suppose."

Sir Iron chuckled.

"Firelink, you have greater potential than you know. I've thought so ever since Ponyville. You may be an average fighter at best, but maintaining your sanity through seven deaths is an impressive feat, and to do so with minimal magic and while coping with a loss is truly extraordinary. Mental fortitude like yours is rare indeed. I don't often have faith in Frampt's chosen, but I do in you. So long as you continue to walk the path you're following now, I will gladly lend you whatever aid I can provide."

"Uhh... wow..." I averted my gaze, face flushed. "Thank you, Sir Iron. That's... high praise, coming from you. I'm honoured. But... this has nothing to do with finding the goddesses or kindling the Fire. I'm just trying to save some people."

"Heroism is heroism. You are growing into your role, one way or another. I will find your crusader friends for you. Stay with Madam Zecora for now, and I will have answers for you by nightfall. Until then, take your rest, and heal."





The dream was boring without Sir Iron there to make conversation with, but fortunately, the time passed quickly. When I awoke in Zecora's bed, the blankets were covered in wolf hair, and Sif was lying atop me, sniffing my horn. He whined when I shoved him aside to get out from under him, so I pacified him by scratching behind his ears.

I still ached in places, but my bandages had been removed, and my wounds had been replaced with scars. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I sat up and found Madam Zecora by my side.

"Did your slumber help you heal? The salve’s effects are slight, but real."

"I'm a little sore in places, but I don't seem to be bleeding anymore."

Lawless and Witchcraft soon appeared by the bedside as well, the former giving a subdued smile while the latter grinned and leaned on her staff.

"Good to see you still alive," she said as she tipped her giant hat.

"No thanks to you," I grumbled. "Next time I'm fighting a giant monster, maybe step in and help?"

Witchcraft rolled her eyes.

"Oh, the follies of youth. I made my intentions clear before you ran out there. If you choose not to listen, then on your head be it. But you had the situation well in hoof, whatever your other faults. I will say again, I found your pyromancy particularly impressive."

"Thanks," I said with a grunt as I climbed out of bed.

"I would be more careful in future, though. A talent for bringing light sounds very poetic, I grant you, but the flame that burns twice as bright also lasts half as long."

Lawless stepped aside to let me through back into the main room, where Zecora's cauldron still bubbled away with its garlicky aroma. Sif leapt off the bed and followed after me, pacing around the cauldron in circles before lying down next to it.

"...Well... fires are known to fade in quiet," I said. "And I certainly have no intention of hollowing meekly."

"As well you shouldn't. I only ask that you act with caution in future. You have great potential. So don't go and die over nothing."

My armour and weapons were lying on the table in the other alcove, so I went over to inspect them. The burn-marks on the metal were gone, but the surcoat was still missing from where I'd torn it off, and it remained dented and scratched in places. Either its enchantments were for cleaning but not repairing, or there was a limit to how much it could fix itself. My saddlebags, slightly damp, also rested on the table. A quick inspection revealed that nothing was missing.

While I looked through them, Lawless slinked up next to me and waved his hoof in front of my face. I slowly turned to him.

"I'm going now," he mumbled.

"Are you?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You burned the timberwolf king. The screaming tree it came from won't have enough darkwood left for a whole pack. I'm gonna take my chances on the west road. I just wanted to say... thank you."

I decided that I liked Lawless of Leota. It was odd seeing a Chaos Paladin be quiet and sincere, but it was nice.

"Any time, friend."

"One last thing... I don't know about this Sister of Solace or her protectors, but I didn't see 'em in my group running east. If they aren't back at the Acres or on the western road somewhere, I'd wager they died at the southeast camp. I'm sorry."

I chewed my lip.

"It's fine. Thank you for the information. And best wishes on your journey back."

Lawless soon skittered away, disappearing without a single word to either Zecora or Witchcraft. I had been expecting him to at least take the wolf pup with him, since he had belonged to a fellow Chaos Paladin, but he left him behind too. Not that Sif seemed to mind, lying by the cauldron's warm firepit. In fact, he was asleep less than a minute after Lawless left.

I lay down next to the cauldron myself, and idly stroked the grey wolf.

"Hey, Witchcraft..." I said, beckoning the wizard over. "Out of curiosity, if timberwolves are magical constructs controlled by evil trees... why wolves?"

She sat down on a stool next to me.

"Ah, there's a question..." she said fancifully. "What do you know about souls?"

"I know that they're made of magic, and that we all draw power from them. I know that if we lose them, we become undead. I know that they leave the body when a non-undead dies, and the Way of White says that dead souls go to Paradise, but I don't know how true that is."

Especially given that the Four aren't true gods, and that Paradise is just some place behind a door.

Witchcraft chuckled.

"Mostly true. The soul is magic, that much is certain. Or rather, it is a construct of magic, formed around a consciousness. You see, consciousness is not magical. It is an emergent property of a complex system, such as a brain. Your awareness, 'you' as you recognise yourself, partially exists inside your brain, but consciousness has byproducts. Thoughts and emotions create psionic energy as a waste product, and this energy is responsible for a number of natural phenomena. Emotivores such as changelings can feed on certain strains of it. Some species have telepathic abilities. And of course there's the Dreamscape, which is made out of the stuff.

"However, the most important property of psionic energy is that it creates impressions of the things that form it. Violent deaths leave behind psychic echoes because of the strong emotions felt in the moment. Psychic impressions can be formed of concepts as well, if they're in our collective thoughts often enough. But most importantly, impressions are formed of our consciousnesses, and they mix with and have continuity with the original. Thus, your consciousness simultaneously exists as both a purely physical entity inside your body, and as something more ethereal inside your soul. And when the body fails, it is through the soul that we live on."

I blinked.

"...Huh. So... the consciousness in our brain can live on without a soul, and the consciousness in our soul can live on without a brain?"

"Correct."

I suddenly felt a deep and overwhelming sense of self-pity. Somewhere out there was another Firelink, living on inside my original soul, and he was stuck with Patches of all people. Perhaps my own situation wasn't so bad after all; I was probably getting the better deal of us two.

"So, wait, this is interesting and all, but how is it related to my original question?"

Witchcraft smiled.

"Screaming trees are thaumivores. They eat wolf souls."

"Oh." My mouth opened slightly, and my eyes widened as realisation dawned. "Ohhhhhhh..."

"Indeed."

"So... what happens? The trees eat wolf souls, and then the wolves... possess it?"

"After a fashion. There's a reason that emotivores are much more common than thaumivores. Eating magic is dangerous work if you take it from other creatures. To consume a soul is to drink in that soul's essence, and depending on how powerful the soul in question is, it can be hard to... digest. Feral changelings eat souls all the time, but it's not a problem for them, because changelings are emotivores as well as thaumivores; they can digest psionic energy just as well as magical. But the screaming trees are... well... less fortunate."

"Huh..."

"Anything else you were curious about?"

"...Yeah, there was one other thing... Um... if we do live on inside our souls... what does normally happen to us after we die?"

"Reincarnation," Witchcraft said bluntly. "The dead soul finds a nice fetus to occupy and gets born again as a squalling nuisance. We don't tend to remember our previous lives, but personalities are more or less consistent, and incarnations are usually all the same gender... I'm told that cutie marks in ponies are also similar across incarnations, but that might just be hearsay."

I wasn't sure if that was reassuring or not.





"I have good news and bad," said Sir Iron, leaning against the wall of the hut.

I turned the red eye orb over in my hooves, inspecting it from every angle. It had worked just as he had said it would. I still felt as if I was dreaming, in that lucid way that I always did in the Fire-Keeper's Dream, but this time the orb had come with me. And yet, it was behaving strangely. For reasons that Sir Iron couldn't explain to me, the red eye orb seemed to come to life in the dream. Its red outer shell, solid in reality, was like squishy warm flesh in the dream, and the mad yellow eye with its red pupil looked around and blinked occasionally, as if alive.

"Bad news first then," I said from my place at Zecora's table, as the orb and I stared at each other.

"I'll start with some of the bad. Great Victory and Small Nicety are both dead. They were among the slain at the southeast camp. By the ghosts they left behind in the dream, they appear to have died shortly after Sir Penance abandoned the party. If it brings you any comfort at all, they died valiantly."

I grimaced.

"Next, the good. Sister Pilgrimage escaped, and lives still. "

"Truly?" I said, sitting up and putting the red eye orb aside.

"Truly. Not all of the survivors of the initial raid fled north or eastwards. Sister Pilgrimage was among a very small number who fled south. She made it all the way to the ruins of the Castle of the Two Sisters, once the home of Celestia and Luna before they took up residence on Mt. Canterlot. She is currently safe in hiding, if shaken, and she does have a food supply of sorts. I estimate she could survive in the castle ruins for a while longer if need be."

"That's excellent!"

"Wait before you celebrate, because I have more bad news to finish with. Just as Lawless of Leota is the last of the group that fled east, Sister Pilgrimage is the only survivor of those who fled south. There is a reason for this. The land between the southeast camp and the castle is all deer territory. It was the worst possible direction for her to have run. Very few crusaders went south at all, because those who did ran almost directly into Thicket. Sister Pilgrimage only survived by virtue of being a changeling; she disguised herself as a small animal to escape their patrols."

My face fell.

"Damn. So if I wanted to rescue her, I'd have to go through enemy territory?"

"That would be the obvious approach, but I wouldn't recommend it. It would be better for you to go back west and skirt the edge of the conflict zone. The crusaders are currently occupying most of the wooded areas, but Froggy Bottom Bog thus far remains untouched by the fighting. If you went south through the bog, and then east from there, you might be able to avoid the worst of it. I cannot guarantee that you would be safe from the other monsters of the forest, but you would be better off against them than facing the might of Thicket."

"Hrrmmm..."

"The choice is up to you."

"No, there is no choice. I'll go through the bog. If Pilgrimage is safe for now, then she can wait."

"Very well."

I picked up the red eye orb in both hooves, feeling its fleshy warmth.

"So... I press the eye again? Won't that hurt it? Does it feel pain?"

"I honestly do not know if it's even alive at all, but one way or another, it's the only way out of the dream."

"Right... Well, I'll see you again soon, I suppose. Thank you for all your help, Sir Iron."

"I was happy to serve. Good luck with your journey."

I pressed a hoof into the eye, and was immediately sucked into a world of darkness and silence. It had been the same going into the dream in the first place. Sensory deprivation came with the territory of travelling between worlds, and I wasn't used to it yet. I tried to scream, but I didn't have lungs. I tried to move my body, but I had no limbs. For those long few seconds, I was numb to everything.

Finally, the world came back in a blinding flash and deafening thunder. I collapsed on the floor of Zecora's hut, sucking in a breath like a drowning pony finally breaching the surface.

Witchcraft clapped a paw on my back and hauled me up.

"Are you okay, pony?"

I nodded rapidly.

"Good," she said, walking me over to the table. "What news of your friends?"

Sif was awake again, lying down beside the cauldron and chewing on a bone. I didn't know where he'd gotten it, but I could guess. When Witchcraft and I took our seats, he sat up and padded over, tail wagging and a hopeful expression on his face. I scratched behind his ears as we talked.

"The minotaurs are dead, but Sister Pilgrimage lives. She ran south."

"Ooh. Oh dear."

Zecora soon joined us, passing us each a flask of water.

"Deer is right, my sharp-toothed friend. Thicket's at the wood’s south end. If that indeed is where she fled, she’s lucky that she isn’t dead."

I took my flask and gratefully gulped down.

"She's not in Thicket," I said. "Sir Iron says that she made it to the Castle of the Two Sisters. I'm going to go back through Froggy Bottom Bog to avoid the major warzones."

The old mare rubbed her chin.

"As sure a path as any, true. Though still too much, perhaps, for you. The bog’s a fearsome hydra’s home; it’s nowhere I would go alone."

I turned to Witchcraft. She put her hands up.

"Don't look at me. I've had quite enough adventure already. If you're so determined to die fighting monsters, kindly leave me out of it."

I sighed and stood up. The aching had mostly subsided, but not completely. I hoped it wouldn't impede me too much.

"In that case, I will bid you both farewell for now. We're already edging into setting day, and I want to reach the castle before it gets dark."

"Will you wait before you leave?" Zecora went to the back of the alcove and rifled through her shelves. "I can help you here, I do believe."

She came back with an iron chain necklace, brown with rust, and presented it before me.

"White knights often come through here, to gain my aid against the deer. They pay with trinkets such as this, but it’s a gift that I won’t miss. The chain contains a cloud-walk spell, but lets one walk on water as well. It’s sure to help you in the bog; to let you run, instead of slog."

The rusty chain didn't look like much, but Zecora had no reason to lie to me. And I certainly liked the sound of walking on water. I bowed my head and floated the chain around my neck.

"Thank you very much, Madam Zecora. I appreciate the help."

"I’m glad to help you with your quest. May your path be always blessed."

Witchcraft folded her arms and sighed.

"Okay, maybe I have something that can help too... Madam Zecora, would you have any quills or parchment around? Pony, what's your preferred reading language?"

She soon set to work scribbling out something on a blank scroll, before rolling it up and passing it over to me. I unfolded it to take a look. Written instructions and mathematical equations lined the bottom of the parchment, while the top contained diagrams of shapes and matrices, some new to me and some familiar.

"...Is this a spell?"

Witchcraft put down her quill and sat back.

"Indeed. 'Fireform,' it's called. For most career sorcerers, the spell is middlingly difficult to learn, but those who have an affinity for fire will obviously have an easier time of it. Since your special talent lends itself well to pyromancy, you might be able to perform it with practice."

I rolled up the scroll and packed it into my bags.

"What does it do?" I asked as I started putting on my armour

"It sets you on fire."

Witchcraft held a completely straight face. I raised an eyebrow as I fitted the chestpiece.

"...Any particular reason I'd want to do that...?"

She shrugged.

"Well, while you're on fire, you're also immune to fire, so I assume it would be useful for taking up a career in dragon-slaying. You seem suicidal enough to try that. Alternatively, you could always glue some fake wings on yourself and pretend to be a phoenix for the rest of your days."

"Right... well, thank you, in any case. If I'm ever in a situation where setting myself on fire seems like a good idea, I will remember this."

Witchcraft smiled at me.

"You amuse me, pony. I've enjoyed your company."

I finally finished up, putting on my saddlebags and hanging my shield and scabbards on last.

"Likewise. Thank you for having me as well, Madam Zecora."

The old zebra opened the door for me.

"It has been quite the afternoon. Farewell, Firelink; come back soon."

"Right. Well, pleasure to have met you all..." I looked down at the wolf and stroked his head. "You too, boy."

Sif yapped and rushed out into the burned remnants of the forest, running between the blackened trees. I frowned as he started rolling around on the ground.

"Um... Sorry. I didn't know he was going to run out."

"The wolf still isn’t my concern. His care’s a thing for you to learn."

I blinked.

"Wait, hold on, I can't take care of a dog! Or a wolf! That's a huge responsibility, and I don't know the first thing about it!"

"I would not force the duty on you—no, not me! But Sif’s made his choice, as I think you can see."

The grey wolf came bounding up to me again, his once-clean coat now filthy with soot and ashes. He tackled me to the ground and send me sprawling, and started licking my face again.

"Off! Off, boy!" 

He stepped back and stared at me with his big amber eyes, and smiled that wolfish smile of his while happily wagging his tail. I pulled myself up and groaned, shooting Zecora a look. Witchcraft stood in the doorway of the hut, smirking at me.

"Congratulation, pony! You're a daddy now! Make sure to walk him frequently. Growing pups need their exercise. Oh, and also be aware that he will kill lots of small animals. Don't discourage this, because he'll starve otherwise."

I glowered at them both, and pointed a hoof in their direction.

"Kill, puppy! Kill!"

Sif made a noise somewhere between a growl and a whine, and rolled over on his back, looking up at me. Zecora and Witchcraft both laughed. I sighed and rubbed his belly.

"Good boy," I muttered.





"Have you got a screw loose? Or is it your… animal intuition?"