//------------------------------// // Following the yellow brick road // Story: The Foal and the Timber Wolf // by airbournesquid //------------------------------// Applejack tugged on the chain lead once again, pulling the limping wolf in tow. He obviously hadn't taken to walking on three legs all too well. Every struggled step he took was punctuated by a clumsy stumble. He would sway heavily at the slightest breeze and collapse every fifty feet, only to awkwardly get back to his paws so the sequence could begin all over again. Applejack, although not particularly fond of timber wolves due to the stories Granny Smith had told her as a foal, still found herself pitying the poor creature. Seeing something as fearsome and threatening as a timber wolf in such an undignified state just felt wrong somehow. He was supposed to be a proud and dangerous predator, but at the moment he resembled more of a heap of driftwood, dragging itself across the floor. Still, that's not to say he didn't look threatening. A pair of scars had been etched across his face, running diagonally down his snout and tracing across his maw. Those unnaturally yellow irises scouted across the streets and houses of Ponyville, no detail escaping his demonic, glowing eyes. His tough, wooden carapace was coated with scratches and cuts, no doubt from fighting. But what was perhaps most terrifying was his jaws. The gleaming white blades that were his teeth hung out of his upper mouth in a frightening overbite. She couldn't help but imagine what those teeth could do to her. They looked so sharp, they could probably glide through her flesh like a hot knife slid through butter. She probably wouldn't even feel it, not until he pulled away and took a nice big slab of flesh out of her back with a wet 'shlop'. Then, when she lay squealing on the ground, her hooves flailing in a panicked, agony-fuelled fit, he'd bury his head into her soft belly, plunging deep into her bowels and wrap those horrible, salivating jaws around her intestines. And then he'd pull, oh sweet Celestia he'd pull so hard, uprooting more and more of her unravelling insides as he went. Those eyes, those evil, glowing eyes would focus on her petrified face, like two lighthouses in a sea of her own blood, dear Equestria, there would be so much blood, all of it her own. There'd be so much, so much she'd drown in it, drown in the sea of blood pouring from her ruined torso, and all the time those fiery pupils would be watching her, watching her drown. He'd laugh as it flooded into her mouth, assulting tongue with the taste of raw iron before it gushed down her throat and into her lungs, filling them up until they popped with a soggy splat, like a water balloon hitting a wall. All the time she would be screaming, and he'd be laughing, laughing at her screams... Celestia damned Granny Smith and her mentally scarring bedtime stories... For the sake of Drathgurg, why does this have to be so bloody difficult! A manticore can strut about on two legs, and their brains are about the size of a chestnut, so why the hell can't I manage with three? And they make it look so. Damned. Easy! Genetically superior pricks. And you know what? This wouldn't be nearly as hard if blondie here would just stop pulling on my fucking lead! The constant stares we're getting isn't making it any easier, either. I mean come on, have some respect for a guy's privacy! And another thing, these ponies scare ridiculously easy. The second they lay their eyes on me they either scream and run, bugger off indoors or just congregate into crowds and try their best to steer clear of me. I don't really get what all the hype is about, I'm a single, three legged timber wolf with a chain wrapped around my neck, it's not like I'd be able to off one of these four-foot rainbow-rats even if I wanted to. Besides, like I said earlier, pony flesh is only 'okay', it doesn't really hold a candle to other wildlife. "Applejack!" whispered a shaky, orange maned and yellow coated mare who was hiding herself (poorly) behind a wooden carrot stand. "Howdy there, Carrot Top." muttered my probably imbred captor (Apparently named Applejack) nonchalantly through the lead in her mouth. This 'Carrot Top' had her eyes fixated on me, her pupils the size of pinpricks. "What are you doing with that monster!" Nice to meet you too. "Well, this here 'monster' is goin' ta be needin' a place ta stay! So, till further notice, ahm gonna be stuck with the critter." "But... I just... Where did you even find that thing." Oh yeah, I'm feeling the love. "Uhh, it's a long story, Carrot Top, an ahm kinda busy" said Applejack, yanking on my lead again "y'know, what with it being harvest an all." "Oh, well, just be careful, that thing just looks evil." Fuck. You. Luckily for that carrot loving whore, Applejack pulls me away. A good thing, too, a couple more seconds and I would have clawed her flank up so bad she'd shit sideways. She's still looking at me, right into my glowing, yellow eyes. I see that look alot, particularly on my prey. It's the look that says 'you want to kill me, don't you? You want to kill me and there's virtually nothing stopping you'. I love it when they look at me like that, absolutely love it. Yeah, that's right, look at my eyes, they're staring right at your plump, exposed neck. I'm waiting, Carrot Top, Waiting for you to look the other way so I can come and gobble you up. I'm waiting, waiting for the right time to gobble you right the fuck up. She turns away with a shudder. That's it, be afraid, because you know I'm going to get out some day or another, and when I do, I'm going to come for you, and I'm going to find you, and then, I'm going to eat you. You'll be sleeping in your bed, far away in dreamland, maybe having a little nightmare about me taking you apart piece by piece, and then you'll wake up, thanking your Princesses that it was just a dream. You'd open your eyes, and you'll find me standing over you, my gold eyes locked onto yours, my sharp claws mounted on your chest, and my sharp, yellowing teeth primed to pluck your throat right out of your neck. You'd try to convince yourself that you're still in a dream, still lost in some horrible nightmare, and it'll be over soon, that you'll wake up and everything will be fine. But you won't wake up, Carrot Top. You won't wake up because you're already wide awake, in your bedroom, with me, here. And I'm getting ready to eat you up and crap you out. I'm going to come for you, I'm going to find you, and I'm going to kill you, and there's fucking nothing you can do about it. ... So yeah, I get a bit worked up at times, sorry about that. Well, we're coming up to a barn, I can only assume that this is the 'Sweet Apple Acres' that Applejack mentioned. A large red barn stood before us, it's paint peeling off in patches, revealing the brown oak beneath. Don't ask how I know it's oak, it's just a weird sixth sense that all us timber wolves seem to have. It may sound pretty cool, but when it comes down to it, it's pretty much useless in day to day life. Just ask yourself, 'does it really matter to a wolf as to whether that tree is chestnut or pine?' The answer is no, it doesn't. Drathgurg, Netherthran and Jarik just thought it would be funny to give timber wolves an absolutely pointless power. Damned gods and their faulty designs. Sitting next to the barn was a quaint two storey house, a wrinkled, green pony sat snoring on its cosy porch, rocking back and forth in her chair. It was a nice place, well, nice compared to the other places I've seen around here, I mean who wants to live in a brick house? Wood is where it's at, the pony living in that hollowed out tree a few blocks back had the right idea, hell, someone give that pony a medal or something. In front of the house and the barn is probably the biggest apple orchard I've ever seen, which really isn't saying much, seeing as it was the first one I've ever laid eyes on. Still, it stretched on for a good quarter of a mile or so. There were easily five or six hundred apple trees here, if not more. The sea of bright green leaves was dotted by thousands of lively red apples swaying in the summer's breeze. The sweet, invigorating scent of apples washes over me, gently tickling my senses. There were a couple of cows and pigs, but to my dismay, they were fenced off. I'm guessing that they kept the cows for milk (and hopefully beef), but I can't really see the point in ponies keeping pigs. I mean, it's not like you get anything out of them. Maybe this family had an unnatural craving for pork? Unlikely, but still, a wolf can dream, right? "Big Mac, Applebloom, Granny Smith, Winona, we got us some company!" yelled Applejack at the top of her voice, nearly deafening me with that stupid cowmare drawl of hers. Without warning the barn doors burst open with a jolting bang. "Well howdy there, Big Mac, this here's-" "Applejack!" roars a deep, masculine voice in fear. As I turn to meet the voice's owner, a heavy hoof ploughs into my muzzle with a sickening crack. I crumple to the ground, fuck! I think my nose is broken! To confirm my worries, a torrent of red begins to gush from my nostrils. You know what? I've lost my leg, been kidnapped by a redneck, chained up like some dominatrix bitch and practically dragged through an entire town full of ponies who scream at the sight of me, just where the hell is the animal rights association when you need them? I stumble back to my feet to meet my attacker head on, somepony's going to learn the hard way that it's a bad idea to duff a timber wolf in the face. Just wait until my head stops spinning, then you're in for it you sucker punching bastard. "Now look what you gone done! You broke the poor fella's nose!" "Well ah thought he was gonna go hurt you, what're ya doin' with such a despicable animal anyhow?" Despicable? You want to see despicable, oh I'll show you despicable! As my vision clears a red stallion comes into focus. Crap, he's big, that complicates things. By the love of the three gods he's tall! Alright, going for the throat's out of the question. Oh well, the legs are still open, I could probably have a go at taking out one of those. The tank of a pony is still locked in conversation with Applejack, if I'm going to make this sibling-shagger pay, I best do it now. I pounce forwards, thrusting myself off of the ground with my hind legs. Midway through my flight the stallion notices me going for his left foreleg, however he's already too late. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth as my teeth plant themselves in the upper half of his leg. "Gah! Applejack, get this thing offa me!" Oh I don't think so, buddy. You broke my nose, and now you're going to pay me back every drop of blood I've lost with two of yours. I tighten my grip, sinking my teeth in even deeper. Who knows, if I'm lucky I might even hit an artery. I squeeze harder and harder, small rivers of crimson tracing down the stallion's leg. Come on, I can do better than this, get deeper, DEEPER! I want to scrape this asshole's bone! "Oh sweet Celestia GET IT OFF!" Applejack starts tugging wildly on my lead, desperately trying to detach me from the stallion's leg. NO! Not until I get my fill of blood from this bastard! "P-please... let go of mah brother." squeaks a quiet, youthful voice. 'Brother...' I release my jaws from the speaker's 'brother', an audible 'squish' rings out as my teeth unsheathe themselves from his muscle. My chain drops from Applejack's mouth as she gawks at the stallion, and it clatters to the floor. He'd fallen to his haunches halfway through my retaliation, and was now lying in the dirt, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth grinding together. The flesh around his leg is warped and twisted, blood spouting from the grisly holes I'd made, drenching the soil. The wound resembles a gory work of modern art, the meat morphed and deformed in all kinds of interesting ways. Applejack began to cry. For the first time, I notice a small figure staring at me with big, magenta rimmed eyes. A little redheaded filly stood shaking in her hooves, those eyes drawn to mine, as if staring into my soul.