Sweet Toot screamed. She hugged Sweet Tart even tighter, shielding her against a shower of sharp pebbles. A cloud of dust hung between the ponies and the wolves, parting them.
The wolf pack stirred nervously, yipping and yapping. They waited for some kind of response from their comrade, but only heard the clattered of debris raining on the cobblestone.
It didn't take long for the cloud to dissipate. Already both parties could see the silhouette of pony amongst the wreckage. The figure stumbled for a moment, fighting for balance, then quickly righted itself. The first feature Toot Sweet noticed was the shape of wings.
Finally they were able to make the pony out, an ivory pegasus standing astride a tiny crater. The cobblestone beneath his hooves was cracked and fractured, revealing tiny patches of wounded earth.
The pack snarled and whined when they saw the remains of their comrade. Like a wind up toy dashed against a wall, the wolf had flown into a dozen or so pieces. It was as if a woodshop's waste bin had been upended onto Honeysuckle Street.
Alabaster gazed at the wolves cooly, nary a trace of fret. With wings unfurled and lips peeled back to reveal shark like teeth, Alabaster looked as if he could've crawled out of the same den as the timber wolves.
“You poodles should turn tail now. I've got some shit to work through, and I've got no qualms working it all over your faces.”
Toot Sweet rubbed at her eyes, thinking that maybe some dirt had gotten in them. Considering what she was seeing, that seemed the only logical conclusion. It quickly became clear that she wasn’t seeing things, however. Thick coils of steam were rising from the stallion’s back, looking as if he had just been dunked in a vat of boiling water.
The wolves shifted uneasily. There was something about pegasus's slitted pupils and gold rimmed eyes that held the pack in place. They glanced to one another, each seeming to ask the same question. 'Who goes first?'
It seemed there was just enough intelligence rattling around in those wooden heads of theirs to be cautious. Alabaster doubted they’d just flee, however... or perhaps he was simply hoping they wouldn’t. Like he said, there was some shit he needed to work through.
All at once, the question was answered. The wolf who’d manage to break into a home was pushing his was back outside. Remains of the house’s door were sent clattered down the steps after him. He stopped long enough to scent the air before his head swung around to the pack. The smell of prey was in the air. This was enough to get the timber wolf running.
This new wolf came bounding up to the scene, ignorant of its brethren's unease. It charged through the scrimmage line, parting them as easily as a curtain.
With blood on its muzzle and blood on its taste buds, the timber was in the throes of murderous ecstasy. Seeing fresh prey simply standing out in the open, almost asking to be eaten, the wolf had no say in the matter.
Meat. Blood. KILL!
The timber was deadly fast. It had cleared the distance in an instant and was rapidly closing in on Alabaster.
The wolf hung over Alabaster like the shadow of an eclipse. Toot Sweet had only a second to see the stallion’s wing dip down before Alabaster made his play.
Mr. Eager Beaver was caught mid stride by an uppercut. The timber had enough time to feel rows of teeth shattering in its maw before the world melted away into a gyrating blur. The pack watched in awe as their comrade sailed up, head over ass, into the air.
Alabaster landed, legs spread wide, but kicked off the moment he touched cobblestone. He vaulted into nearest timber wolf. Wings folded, Alabaster threw his weight into a somersault.
One slack jawed wolf was still staring at the sky when a pair of back hooves drove through his face. Alabaster passed into and then out of the wolf like a bullet.
Glided for a moment, Alabaster's wings finally flared out. He caught the wind and allowed himself to hang there, suspended.
Toot Sweet watched the timber wolf crumple, headless. Amazed, she stared at the hovering pegasus. With his wings outstretched, he looked like a snow angel of death.
“Mama?” Sweet Tart, cheeks still wet with tears and squashed fruit, peered around Toot Sweet. “Mama, who is that?”
Toot Sweet couldn’t answer. All she could do was grasp the back of her daughter’s head and bury it into a her breast. No need for the little filly to see… whatever this was. A fresh bolt of pain raced up her broken leg, seeming to remind Toot Sweet of their predicament.
The wolves continued to stand by, shocked, as Alabaster dove again. He crashed into one timber with enough force to crack the beast’s chest. Up close, Alabaster flew into a flurry blows.
CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!
Punches, kicks, and curses rocked the wolf like an earthquake. Each blow chiseled a little more of the wolf away, scattering chips of wood and moss in every direction. A splotch of the wolf’s black ick splattered across Alabaster’s neck. He took not even a hint of notice
Staggering back, the wolf lifted a paw to take a swipe at the stallion… tried to, at least. Its claw only got halfway up when the arm fell away. The timber wolf glanced at where his arm had been a moment before. When it saw the severed tendon of moss hanging from its shoulder, it threw its head back and howled.
Alabaster hissed through gritted. “That’ right, scream for me, you mutt! Howl while I turn ya into a whittling stick!”
Dropping back to the cobblestone, Alabaster tucked in his chin and jumped. His head collided with the wolf’s. The headbutt silenced the creature with a resounding CRUNCH. Beaten and battered, the wolf fell.
Alabaster wiped at a trickle of blood in his eye, grinning all the while. There would be little time to recover, however. His blood ran cold as felt the predator's shadow closing in on him. Toot Sweet screamed.
“Look out!”
Alabaster danced back just in time. The timber wolf came crashing down on the spot where he had stood, splitting the cobblestone with his weight. Eyes wide, the wolf did a double take. It saw the pegasus standing by, grinning.
A quick hop, and then-
CRACK!
Alabaster dropped onto the wolf’s neck like an anvil. Its spine snapped in two beneath Alabaster’s hooves. When he stepped back from the wolf, its head came free.
The headless timber flopped over, kicking and bucking. The snarling head glared up to Alabaster accusingly.
“Nothing but play purtys,” Alabaster sneered, punting the severed head through a nearby window. The sound of shattering glass wasn’t as satisfying and snapping wood, but it was close.
Alabaster’s grisly satisfaction was cut short when he realized something… there was one more wolf… but it wasn’t attacking him...
Alabaster whirled. The remaining timber wolf was only a few yards away, its back facing the pegasus
“No, stay away! Help! Please help us!” It was the voice of Toot Sweet.
The mare was crawling through the muck on the street, trying to put distance between her and the foaming maw of teeth. She was nudging her filly to run, but poor Sweet Tart was shell shocked. She could only stare up at the wolf with wide, watered eyes.
The foreign cuisine must have been too much to prepare for the remaining timber wolf. Thankfully, there was still a bit of fast food lying around. The wolf loomed over the two ponies, black saliva trickling through a toothy grin.
“No,” the mare whimpered. She could only watch as death-
CRUNCH!
Suddenly, Toot Sweet wasn’t looking into the iridescent glare of the wolf, but of the golden eyes of Alabaster. She looked down and saw the pancake that used to by the timber wolf’s head.
The wolf struggled to pull away from Alabaster, but those four hooves might as well have been steel rails. Alabaster rolled his eyes. A single buck sent yet another headless wolf was sent sprawling onto the street.
Alabaster gave the frightened mare his best ‘ain’t we just getting along’ smile. This only seemed to horrify the mare farther. Alabaster was covered from belly to hoof in tiny cuts and lacerations. He looked like a walking, talking pin cushion.
I don’t even think he knows he’s hurt, Toot Sweet thought.
“You know,” Alabaster said, chuckling, “They’re not so bad. Sure, a bit toothy and smelly, but… meh. I’ve kicked over sand castles worse than-”
He stopped. That’s when Alabaster heard it: the crackling of wood. Shaking, Toot Sweet pointed at something behind him.
Alabaster turned. The remains of the wolves were… moving. Ligaments and bones crackled and writhed like worms. Hoof sized craters were filling themselves out, and shattered faces carved from sawdust and mulch were gradually solidifying. The regenerating beasts started to shamble upward, looking more like the freshly risen undead.
Alabaster drew in a sharp hiss. “Fuuuuck… I guess it would be that kind of day, huh?”