//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: The Timberwolf // Story: Antonovka // by Soufriere //------------------------------// Okay, where was I? Right. That chilly night in late Fall. Ma sat in the corner, nursing a wound on her back leg that a Timberwolf nearly bit off the day before while she tended an outer field. She’d tried to stay active despite the injury, but the pain was just too much, so she had us help fix supper. By that I mean she had me fix supper – Pa may have had a knack for collecting seeds and helping them grow, but asking him to make any food requiring more than just pulling it off the plant was pointless and probably hazardous to everyone’s health. Manx Codlin and Nickajack took after Pa in that sense; they could (and did) toil in the fields all day and perform minor miracles of carpentry, but having them try any domestic chores was a surefire way for half the house to end up destroyed. At least they could rebuild it, which is more than I could say for myself. So I set to preparing food: vegetable stew. Back in those days, cooking big meals outside was the standard way of doing things. If the weather was bad, we had a big tarp made out of tanned cowhides to string up. If that didn’t work, well, most likely someone got wet, usually Ma, which may explain her attitude. See, Hippus Valley never gets much rain; its fields were and probably still are fertilized by the silt from the River Ot that runs through. Idyllic to be sure, but be careful if you ever go there; Tarpanites have a long memory and hold grudges. Anyway, throwing veggies into a stew was about all we could do to ensure what crops we had lasted as long as possible. Manx fetched two buckets of water from our well: one for our stew and one for cleaning the food – he could do that at least without messing it up – while Nick hauled logs and kindling to the outside stove. After washing the veggies, I did my best to chop them, which isn’t easy when all you have is hooves and a dull knife. Pa was too busy brooding about the state of our lives to be of any use, so Manx brought out a lantern to hang on the hook near the stove to help me see as I threw what edibles there were into the old cauldron pot, mixing it with a ladle we’d brought from the Valley. The closest market town back then was Detrot, some three days away. Cooking can be liberating or therapeutic… or it can be boring. This night it was boring. Standing outside, constantly stirring a tasteless concoction of water and vegetables – we had no spices in those days either – lit only by a single lantern, I nearly fell asleep on my feet. That is, until I heard a familiar, terrifying sound: branches crunching amidst the violent rustling of the treeline. Immediately afterwards came that unmistakable scent of brimstone. The biggest Timberwolf I had ever seen had suddenly come out of the Forest and stood just a few yards away from me, its infernal green eyes glowing in the twilight. Had it not been so close, and I not been so caught off guard, I would have just made some noise like always, but a full cauldron can’t produce a sound worth scaring off a fly, so I was stuck. It craned its head down over our perimeter fence, apparently the better to smell me with. I could certainly smell it – rotten eggs and death. It opened its mouth, and I will swear to this day I heard it start to say something, but I couldn’t quite make out what it was: something about ‘yes perfect’. Well, I wasn’t about to let it finish its thought. I took the only thing I had handy, our ladle, and threw it, smacking that Timberwolf right between the eyes. Startled, it reared back and howled again – big cuss may have been laughing for all I know – and bounded off back into the forest. Unfortunately, it took our ladle with it. “What the hay happened, Annie?!” Manx near-yelled as he ran toward me. I replied the only way I could. “Timberwolf. Big ‘un,” I said. At that point, Nick and Pa came out “Y’all okay?” they both asked. “Yeah, it didn’t get me,” I insisted. Ma slowly limped out of the house to check on all of us. She looked me up and down and then, secure in the knowledge that her only daughter was safe, told us what was on her mind: “Where’s the ladle?” Pa, Manx, and Nick all looked at her like she’d grown a second head. But Ma was never one to be trifled with. They turned their heads in every possible direction hoping they could see it. Of course they didn’t. “I, uh, threw it at the Timberwolf,” I admitted while looking down at my hooves. Ma hardened her gaze. “So go and pick it up,” she commanded. I tried to make myself as small as I could. Were I luckier, perhaps I could have shrank into the bonnet I was wearing that night, but no. “I can’t. It… got stuck in its head.” That was not what Ma wanted to hear. Rage billowed around her, making her seem almost as big as the Timberwolf, and honestly a good bit scarier. “That was our only ladle!” she snapped. If her hoof hadn’t been hurt, she’d have stomped the ground right then. “You know we don’t have a lot of tools to waste here!” “I’m sorry, Ma,” I pleaded, “But what’d ya want me to do??” “Throw a burning log at it! Or a carrot! Something we can replace!” she yelled. “Ma, calm down,” Nick, ever the peacemaking middle child, begged. “We have other spoons, Margil,” Pa reminded her, gently placing his hoof on her quivering shoulder. This seemed to calm her down somewhat. In the meantime, Nick went in and grabbed a wooden spoon for me so I could finish our stew. Supper was uneventful, and afterwards we all sat down in the main room to talk. Pa was his usual dour self, worse than he was earlier in the day; Ma was just annoyed, and my brothers and I were sure to be caught in the middle. “We can’t keep on like this,” Ma said. “This time one of those things nearly got Annie.” “I’m fine, Ma,” I told her, not that she would have believed me. “Maybe we should reinforce the fence,” Nick suggested. “Of course we should reinforce the fence,” Manx replied as everyone else but Pa rolled their eyes. “But what good’s that gonna do us tonight? It’ll take time to chop the wood and get it in place. Plus we don’t exactly have many nails left. In the time it takes us to go to Detrot’s Market and back, there could be another attack.” “We never should have come all the way out here,” Ma groused. “Even if we can’t live in Canterlot itself, it wouldn’t have been hard to find a home in the outer slums. Maybe get jobs workin’ for some minor Noble. I may hate ‘em ‘til the day I die, an’ it may not be a life any pony can be proud of, but at least we wouldn’t be bein’ attacked by Timberwolves an’ such every single day!” I was shocked to hear that. Ma had never been that direct about her opposition to our situation before. “We’re farmers!” Manx said, banging his hoof on the table. “We’ve always been farmers. Do you really think any of us are cut out for city life?! Do you really think you could spend every day for the rest of your life taking orders from some Bone-Head who wants his marble stairs spit-shined and his food – that we’d never be able to pronounce or afford – cooked just perfect?” “Still!” Ma wasn’t having it. “How could you all even agree to this? Just because some big white horse with a sun on her flank sweet-talked you into it?” “Uh, I don’t think you should talk about the Princess like that,” I said. “You would say that!” Ma retorted. “She couldn’t keep her eyes off you! I could tell. All those Canterlot ponies are just deviants.” “Ma, you’re overreacting,” Manx cautioned her. “The Princess might’ve thought Annie’s hat looked nice, for all any of us know.” “Pa? What d’ya have to say?” Nick asked. Our father slowly looked up, frowning, before responding. “When Clan Kaolin banished us from the Valley, they didn’t think we’d last the year. It’s been nearly five years since then, and we finally have a piece of land and a home to call our own, something no pony controls but us. I don’t want to abandon it. And, Princess Celestia said she put her trust in us. I can’t let her down. I can’t let this family down. I can’t let myself down.” “Well, that settles it,” Manx said. “We’ll tough it out. I’ll go to town in the next week to fetch some supplies. If I can barter, great; if not, then I’ll take a day job to afford what we need. Okay?” Ma, Pa, and Nick nodded in agreement, but I did not. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We need as much muscle here as possible,” I said. “I do,” he replied bluntly. After everyone else was asleep, I got up and, quietly as I could, made my way out of our tiny cabin. I had just about reached the front gaze when I heard a twig snap behind me. I turned to find, illuminated by the moonlight, Nickajack. He approached and looked me square in the eye. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a tone that made it clear no horseapples would be tolerated. I sighed, “There’s something I need to do.” “You’re not thinking of trying to get that ladle back, are ya?” Nick warned. “Do you think I’m that crazy?” I asked him. “Yes,” he said. “If we’re lucky, you’re just going to take the long trip to Detrot yourself.” “Look, I meant what I said earlier. The strongest ponies need to stay here in case the Timberwolves attack again. I’d just be in the way. You and Manx protect Ma. I’ll be back soon. I promise.” “The others won’t like it,” he cautioned. “So what? I may be the youngest, but that don’t mean I’m still a filly. I can take care of myself,” I said. “I wish I could believe you,” said Nick, sadly. “You’ll eat those words when I come back,” I told him as I exited the relative safety of our homestead and shut the gate behind me. We’d cut a barely-visible path to our only gate from the main road several miles east. Instead of heading that way, I decided to turn south, skirting the perimeter of our land. Before long, I reached Whinny Creek, which then had no bridges, so I had to find a narrow shallow part and ford it – not an easy task in the dark, but I happen to have been a great swimmer. The water was cold enough to freeze your soul, but I endured it, shaking myself off as I emerged. Just beyond the riverbank stood a wall of trees, darker even than the night I had just walked through. Well, I figured, no point in putting it off. I made my way into the cursed Forest.