Barely a month had passed before blizzards began biting. By the time Cycle had decided upon joining the Lich full time, the unnatural winter had spread across a vast swath of the continent, reaching fingers into the latitudes where swamps used to grow.
Fortunately for the Honeycomb Club and Appleton, they had a cheating cheater.
Several of them, actually.
Cycle sat deep within the partially carved tunnels, concentrating over a pile of the week’s trash. Not only were there broken tools, there were also rotting food, torn clothes, soiled wraps, defecate, frozen moss, uneven stone. Cycle drew his gaze across the pile, uncaring of the rising stink filling the tunnel by simply not breathing.
He cataloged every item under his breath, repeating them over and over until he had memorized them. Satisfied, he drew a neat circle around the pile into the dirt. He tapped his hooves together once, twice, and punched through the refuse pile.
“Redox!”
Green lightning arced through the mound, each tendril seeking and constricting each individual part within. Smoke hissed out as the pile ripped, rusted, and rotted. Embers started and died as energy was rapidly drawn out, tearing apart and reconstructing bonds until only a discolored mush was left.
Cycle lifted his hooves, the sparks causing what little mud was stuck to his coat sloughed off. He gently placed his hooves over the top of the pile, inspecting it with his more generic magical senses. Finding everything to his expectations, he punched the water out, shaping it until it resembled a chest high dirt ball, and started rolling it out of the tunnels.
A rattling hiss of air escaped Wally’s beak, the closest thing to a sigh through his battered lung. He folded his limbs on the corner of the relocated subterranean field. He raised his arms, letting rails of buzzing light fly out of his arms and line up behind rows and rows of pre-tilled dirt. With a gesture of will, they darted forwards, clusters punching down to a steady beat.
Another cluster dragged out a seed bag, cut it open, then chased after the holes with seeds clutched within.
Plop, plop, plop, went the seeds.
“Carefully!” went a distant pony.
Wally raised his head slightly. One side of the field was reserved for replanted trees. He could see a row of ponies shuffling down the ramp with a tree unsteadily balanced on their backs. They seemed to be well in hand, so after sealing the seed bagswith a tied knot, he shuffled a bit in his seat to get a better line of sight on the fertilizer bucket.
Thonk went a giant ball of smelly brown mush. “Refill’s done,” Cycle called, poking his head from around the compost pile.
Wally nodded. “With the rest of them,” he said, pointing at the shrinking pile of bags and growing mound of large mud balls.
“.... hold, hold, HOLD!”
The two undead jerked, snapping their gaze across the field. The transported tree was tilting, the roots not holding--
Wally thrust his arm out, his flaming eye sockets blazing. Flies burst out of the field surrounding the tree with snake-like ferocity. The branches wave, shaking leaves and a few apples, and the flies dig a furrow into the bark, but the roots only bend, and don't break.
With the other ponies quickly moving to make sure the hole was deeper and better reinforced, the tree was quickly stabilized. Wally slowly let his flies uncoil, a few dropped to the dirt from a crushed body.
“Tch,” he muttered. Flies were hard to dig out when almost every insect had fallen into some sort of hibernation, or simply just froze to death. He sighed, and returned his focus on the planting.
An hour later, he dusted off the flies streaming in underneath his skin, and shifted creaking bones upright. A tiny filly stood next to him, grinning. Wally’s eye lights flickered in confusion.
“Thanks!” she said, completely at ease with the griffon with hollow, empty holes going through his chest.
“You’re ... welcome?” Wally replied uncertainly, awkwardly shifting his body weight away from her.
The filly raised a clutched hoof to hand him an apple, one with a snapped stem and dusted skin he recognized from the nearly fallen tree. Wally cautiously took it in his talons, and seeing the filly wasn’t moving, took a slow bite.
Wally chewed thoughtfully. “... It’s good. Thank you for ... the gift.”
“No problem, mister!” she said cheerfully, and turned to walk away.
Wally held up an arm. “Wait ... what’s your name?”
She smiled, backing away with a wave. “I’m Winter Apple, mister.” Seeing he was satisfied, she turned and trotted back to her family.
Wally stared down at the apple in his talon for a long, long time.
”Wanna go outside for an expedition?”
”... Sure.”
Barnabee considered the blizzard he was asked to trek through. “... I know I was feeling a bit cooped up, but I would appreciate knowing why I’m out here.”
Agatha looked at him from over his shoulder “I didn’t?”
“No.”
Agatha scratched her beak. “Huh.” Bradley continued his light jog, adjusting his grip on Agatha’s legs as she clung to his back. Both wore heavy wool coats, Agatha because she was still mostly biological, and Bradley because frozen joints would be a bad time. “There are several reasons behind this decision, but what’s important here is that I’m trying to be less lethal.”
Bradley squinted at her, jaw hanging. He pointed his elbow at the multitude of knives he could see hanging from a belt, not even covering all the hidden weapons she also kept.
Agatha rolled her eyes. “Yes, I don’t train with them much, but they’re one of the weapons I’m most comfortable with. And very good at stabbing things with. Considering what we’re doing, I really need to work on toning down how easily I can stab people without just making me a blind rabbit.”
“Riiight,” Bradley said, mildly skeptically. “So how does this trip solve that problem?”
“There was a weapon I used to train with.” Agatha eyes unfocused slightly. “I lost it when I moved here, but I remember how to build it.” She made a grasping motion at nothing. “A more civilized weapon for self defense.”
“I ... think I see.”
“You will,” she reassured. “In a few years, anyways. Just knowing how to build isn’t going to help figuring out what tools I’m missing, which is going to take a while.”
“Right. Next question: what am I for?” Bradley asked, pointing at his face.
“Outside of my joint pain problems?”
Bradley gave Agatha a flat glare, but didn’t stop walking.
“Right, right. The primary reason is that the item I seek is likely going to be somewhat ... obscured by layers of earth. I, obviously, won’t be able to exert much effort on frozen ground.”
Bradley curved slightly as Agatha put pressure on his right shoulder.
“Second, I’m pretty sure someone’s trying to kill me, and I can’t dig and defend myself at the same time.”
“... You sure?”
“This country has forces in play that really prefer I not be here, but like hell am I going to just up and leave. All my toys are here.”
“That is slightly disturbing.”
“I was disturbing from day one, you should really pay more attention.” Agatha leaned back, pulling Bradley to a stop near the foot of a small hill. “And, we’re here.”
Agatha slipped off Bradley’s back, limping over and swiping chunks of snow off the surface. She placed the palm of her talons over it, frowning slightly as she swept across the snow. “Ah.” she slashed her claws across the snow. “Dig straight through. Crystal cluster down there.”
“How the heck?” Bradley asked, though he still unsheathed his digging claws.
Agatha slipped a knife through her sleeve. “I found this place sixty years ago while I was searching around, before the snow hit, and when I could actually dig for myself. Got driven out within minutes.” Pinpricks of acid green eye-lights pierced through the whirling ice. She gave a maniac grin. “I see they’ve still kept tabs on me. Fantastic.”
Eyespots continued to pop up around them, quickly surrounding them.
“Geez,” Bradley muttered, paws whirling. “What the heck did you do to anger them so much?”
“Mostly? I refused to die.” She shrugged, adjusting her stance. “Not something for you to worry too much about. They’re only here for me.”
“Pretty sure there’s at least two I can think of that would be pissed if I let you die,” Bradley grumbled as he sank below eye level.
The eye spots moved forwards, out of the cover of the trees. Wooden wolves growled at her, boiling sap dripping from their jaws.
“Well?” Agatha taunted. A spark danced between her claws. “I’m waiting.”
A massive wolf broke out of their ranks, charging straight for her. It hit a snow bank and lept, jaws wide.
Agatha sneered.
She ducked between its paws and thrust upwards, a burst of electricity burning through its wooden body. Its howl became a silent scream as the sticks that made up its body glowed in the heat. Agatha held it there for a moment, tilting her head slightly as it spasmed in her grip, before tossing it to her side. The wolf hissed and popped as sap boiled away.
Black smoke spiraled in the air coalescing into a small black rat, its tail twirling its prosthetic blade. Agatha rolled her eyes. “It ain’t dead, don’t worry about it.”
The rat stared at the twitching body, then shrugged. It turned around and hopped away.
“... Neat.” She turned at the advancing wolves. “Looks like y’all are going to need to try a little-- Eep!” The wolves charged as one, claws swiping and jaws snapping the moment they were able to get close. Others leapt at her from multiple angles and heights.
Agatha hissed, shuffling backwards closer and closer to the pit behind her. Minimal swipes with her blade and talon pushed the wolves into each other’s attacks, but not without blood dripping out of deep cuts on her arms.
Suddenly, Agatha raised her head, leering through eyes of acid yellow. A moment passed, where jaws fell, paws slipped on snow.
Her own paws dug into the bloody snow, and surged forwards, shoulder checking a startled wolf out of formation. She spun as she slid to a stop, a spread of three white hot blades tunneling through its face. She forced her magic through her legs, muscles screaming once more, snow bursting in an arc as she charged on all fours in a half circle.
The wolves were barely able to turn and track her before she reared up at their sides, knife between her claws.
Her foot pierced the snowbacks.
Lighting blazed over her arm, her feathers charring, the blade glowing with heat.
Thousand Birds! She thrust her hand forwards.
She yelped, hastily pulling her talon out of the two chests she punctured. She glared dispassionately at the mangled tendons sticking out of her arm, eyes flicking over crackling wood at the wolf with blood(ier) jaws. “Fast little bugger.” It spat her dagger onto the snow, quickly obscured by a burst of steam and hiss of boiling water.
The wolf leapt for her once more, veering towards her injured side before she could draw another blade into her offhand. Agatha simply crouched slightly, then with a sound of snapping wrist ligaments, punched through its head with the corner of her ulna and slammed it into the ground.
Before more wolves could jump her again, Bradley burst out of the ground, headbutting a cluster of wolves off their feet.
She noticed ice flecking his chin as he spat globs of water at the wolves. The winds quickly froze them solid, trapping the wolves. He alternated between breaking them apart and freezing them in place.
Meanwhile, she shook the shattered wolf head off her bloodied arm and inspected the damage. Her wrist was bent far beyond its natural range of motion, and she could see cut tendons hanging out. A steady stream of blood formed frozen teardrops beneath her. She snorted in annoyance. With a force of will, the talon slowly rotated back within normal ranges.
Bradley slid to a stop in front of her. She idly noticed one of his paws clenched tight. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they figure out how to break the ice, and the rest gang in on us.” He stared at her torn flesh, and the barely contained rage in her eyes.. “I thought you said you could barely stand?”
Agatha chanced a glance at her elbow, peering beneath her fur. “I am proud to announce I have sustained massive internal bruising and bleeding. If I relax for even a second all of my joints are going to lock up in horrible pain.”
Bradley stared. "Ah. Let's get you back before the wolves figure out how to melt the ice."
Bradley slipped Agatha onto his back once more, and quickly began trotting back. “Say, how did you learn to fight like that?”
“Hmm?”
“I thought griffons were quadrupedal.”
“Oh. Yes. I was bipedal once.”
“....what.”
Then Agatha locked up into a pained grimace and stopped moving.