Granny and the Golem

by My Little Scribbler

Thieving Mutts

Everyone knows that diamond dogs love diamonds, but few know they have a thing for apples too, which is why they were in one family’s apple cellar digging through the supplies. As quietly as ghosts, they filled up their baskets and sneaked off into the Everfree Forest in a long line. A line of dogs carrying torches were the only light sources aside from the moon overhead as the dogs ran into the forest.
The leader of this band of thieves was an ornately dressed mutt named Razor. He stood outside of the cellar, watching the diamond dogs like a gargoyle. To add to this visage, he wore his diamond-encrusted breastplate and a golden helmet with bird wings that stuck up high into the air like bull horns.
“Hurry it up, the sun will rise soon,” ordered Razor in a high-pitched growl. He clicked his sharp teeth in irritation as he waited impatiently for the dogs to clear.
The last one was a mangy looking runt of a dog named Barker who stumbled out of the cellar as fast as he could, but tripped over his own paws, spilling the apples onto the grass.
“Barker, you klutz,” whined Razor. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Sorry, sir,” pleaded Barker as he scooped up apples into his scrawny arms. Strapped to the belt he wore was a little burlap sack that swung wildly as he tried to scoop up more of the apples.
“Leave it, we only need enough to last us for five more days.”
“Why? What happens in five days?”
“Didn’t you see the timber wolves we passed on our way here?”
“Yes, so?”
Razor grabbed Barker by the collar of his vest and hoisted him to eye level. “Because in five days, we’ll have even tastier apples to feast upon. NOW GO!”
Barker picked up his half empty basket of apples and chased the others into the forest. Once he was among the trees, a low branch caught onto the burlap sack. As Barker pulled free, he did not notice the sack as it was torn off his belt and plopped onto the dirt. There the bag lay as the light of the diamond dogs’ torches disappeared into the forest.

Far from the hustle and bustle of the large cities like Canterlot, Manehattan, and Cloudsdale, there was a newly built farming community that had attracted many ponies to settle down despite how close it was to the Everfree Forest. Drawn to it by the unique discovery of the zap apples, new buildings had been set up, creating a small town to accommodate the needs of the new ponies moving in. This new town, known as Ponyville, had also attracted many families there to raise their foals, providing more playmates for a little filly named Granny Smith.
On the outskirts of Sweet Apple Acres and near the Everfree Forest, Granny Smith glared at a spike in the ground with a green horseshoe gripped in her teeth. “Watch and learn as ya see a pro play horseshoes.” She flung her head, swinging her pigtails in the process, as she sent the horseshoe flying toward the spike only to have it plop down almost a yard away from the target.
“Ha, nice toss,” said Red Embers, sarcastically.
“The sun was in my eyes,” interjected Granny Smith.
“But the sun is in the east,” pointed out Bug-a-Boo. “You were facing the west.”
Granny Smith growled in annoyance. Unlike the rest of the Apple Family, she actually bore a resemblance to her namesake thanks to her green coat. Drawings of red delicious apples covered the orange bandana around her neck, further evidence of the apple growing business of her family. Her red bonnet covered her neatly braided snow-white mane while an apple pie Cutie Mark decorated her flank.
Watching Granny Smith’s angry pout were her two best friends, two fillies named Red Embers and Bug-a-Boo.
“Come on, let me have a turn next,” said Red Embers.
“Okay, ya take a shot.” Granny Smith picked up a red colored horseshow and threw it at her.
Red Embers tried to catch the horseshoe with her teeth, but it caught onto her horn instead, dangling in front of her eyes.
“Oops, I guess ya make a better stake than a unicorn,” said Granny Smith.
With a flick of her head, Red Embers tossed the horseshoe into the air and caught it with her teeth. “Oh, we’ll see about that.” Much like the horseshoe she clutched in her mouth, her coat was tomato red. While red was predominant throughout her body, the only offset was the hot pink in her eyes and short hair. The picture of three burning clumps of coal decorated her flank. She stood behind the line, ready to toss the horseshoe.
“You can do it, Red,” shouted Bug-a-Boo, her wings fluttering in excitement.
Red Embers tossed the horseshoe, but let out a disappointed grunt as it only landed a foot closer to the spike than Granny Smith’s horseshoe. “Well, I’m still closer.”
“It’s your turn, Boo,” said Granny Smith, nudging the pegasus with her hoof.
Bug-a-Boo used one hoof to adjust her thick-framed glasses. “Oh, sure.” With those large glasses on, it magnified her eyes into large purple orbs, giving her a bug-eyed look on her face. Underneath the large glasses were little freckles peppering her cheeks. Her coat was as blue as the ocean with a curly mane and tail that was gray as the clouds. The most colorful part about her was the rainbow colored beetle she wore as a Cutie Mark. She picked up a blue horseshoe and got into position.
Granny Smith and Red Embers stood there, watching Bug-a-Boo as she stared at the stake, gearing herself for the toss. They waited, and waited...and waited...As Granny Smith grew bored of the suspense, she noticed that Bug-a-Boo was not staring at the stake but up at the sky. “Hey Boo, what are ya looking at?”
Bug-a-Boo stared up at the sky with a dreamy look on her face. “Oh, I noticed that cloud up there looks like a cute little lady bug.”
“For Pete’s sake,” shouted Red Embers, angrily. “Will you throw the horseshoe already.”
“Oh, right.” Bug-a-Boo threw the horseshoe and it flew wildly in the air, crashing clear passed the stake and far away from its intended target. “I missed. Oh well.”
Red Embers did a face hoof in frustration. “Oh Boo, how can you miss like that? Even with those huge glasses of yours, you couldn’t hit the broad side of barn.”
“Oh come on, just because she has bad aim doesn’t mean...” A strange sound coursed through the air and tickled Granny Smith’s ears. She craned her neck toward the forest, looking on intently.
“Hey Smith, what are you looking at?” asked Red Embers.
“Do ya hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Shhh, listen.”
In the forest, they could hear the distant howls of timber wolves echoing through the air.
“The timber wolves are a-howling,” said Granny Smith as she skipped up and down on her hooves in excitement. Before her friends could inquire further, she bolted off, galloping at full speed back to Sweet Apple Acres. As she ran, the sound of the howling timber wolves grew louder in her ears. Once she got into Sweet Apple Acres, she saw the clouds building in he sky and she knew that it only meant one thing.
“THE TIMBER WOLVES ARE A-HOWLING! THE ZAP APPLES ARE COMING!” She raced along the dirt trails and passed the house, screaming at the top of her lungs, “THE ZAP APPLES ARE COMING! THE ZAP APPLES ARE COMING!”
As she continued her parade, one by one, the rest of her family came out of hiding. Her oldest brother, Prairie Tune stuck his head out from the open window in his bedroom, followed by Happy Trails, her second oldest brother. Both brothers looking on as their sister ran passed. Her father, Pokey Oaks, was out on the fields with a plow strapped to his back when he saw Granny Smith running by screaming at the top of her lungs. By the time she had made her rounds, she circled farm to find her friends waiting for her.
“THE ZAP APPLES ARE COMING!”
“Zap apples? So that’s what this is all about,” said Red Embers. “How do you know the zap apples are coming?”
“The timber wolves are the first sign of an upcoming zap apple harvest,” explained Granny Smith. “Once they start a-howling, that means that it will be time for the zap apples to appear.”
“So, when are we going to be seeing the zap apples?” asked Bug-a-Boo.
“In five days.” Catching the fillies by surprise was Pokey Oaks. He left his plow behind and approached the fillies caked with sweat and dirt. “In five days, the zap apples will appear and we’ll have ourselves a nice little harvest of zap apples.”
Red Embers rubbed her belly as she thought of eating that zap apple jam. “Do you think you can share some of that zap apple jam with us?”
“Of course,” said Pokey Oak. “Speaking of which, Granny Smith, I’m going to need you to start singing to the water and preparing to make the jam.”
“Yes, Papa, I’ll work extra—“ She was interrupted by a loud high-pitched scream that echoed from the barn. “Hey, was that Mama?”
“Let’s go see.” Pokey Oaks galloped off at full speed with the fillies following close behind.
They ran into the family apple cellar where they found Sew n’ Sow standing at the entrance, gawking at the paw prints on the wooden floor and eaten apples littered everywhere.
“What happened here, mama?” asked Granny Smith.
“We’ve been robbed!” shouted Sew n’ Sow in hysterics.
Red Embers stared at the paw prints with curiosity. “These prints look like wolf prints. I didn’t know timber wolves liked apples.”
“These prints didn’t come from timber wolves,” said Granny Smith. “They come from diamond dogs. Those thieving mutts have been stealing our apples again.”
Red Embers gawked at her out of confusion. “What are diamond dogs?”
“Oh, oh, I know,” announced Bug-a-Boo, hopping up and down. “They’re those subterranean diamond scavenging dogs.”
“That’s right,” said Pokey Oaks. “This is the third time they’ve robbed us in three weeks. With the zap apple harvest coming up, I’m worried they might try and steal those too.”
“What are we going to do, papa?”
“We’ll have to put new locks on our doors, perhaps patrol our farm at night, and hope for the best.”
“That doesn’t sound very reassuring. Why can’t ya’ll ask the sheriff to help?”
“I doubt the town’s only sheriff can do much against a pack of diamond dogs, and he has his hooves full already. No, we’re on our own. Now ya three run along while we handle this.”
“But...”
Pokey Oaks gave Granny Smith a confident smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve survived much worse. Now run along and play.”
The three fillies left the cellar without another word, worried glances plastered on their faces. As they wondered off, they eyed the trail of paw prints leading from the cellar and into the Everfree Forest, imagining the diamond dogs as they ran off laughing with bushels of apples in their dirty claws.
“Those look like diamond dog tracks,” said Red Embers. “I bet if we follow them, we can find their hideout and drive them away.”
“That’s too dangerous and entering the Everfree Forest is against the rules,” said Granny Smith. “We should just let the grown-ups take care of it.”
“Well I say damn the rules to Tartarus,” said Red Embers. “Who’s with me?”
“I’m in,” cheered Bug-a-Boo.
“I don’t know about this,” said Granny Smith. “The Everfree Forest is not safe, especially before a zap apple harvest where the timber wolves are up and about.”
Red Embers grinned evilly. “What, are you chicken?”
Granny Smith glared at Red Embers, her eyes glowing with anger. “What did ya just call me?” She pawed the ground with her left hoof like a bull.
“You heard me. Chicken! Chicken! Granny Smith is a chicken!”
“I’ll show ya who’s a chicken.” With that, Granny Smith marched off toward the Everfree Forest with Red Embers close at her heels.
Bug-a-Boo casually followed her, looking off ahead with a wide grin on her face.
Even in broad daylight, the forest immediately upon entering had a dim atmosphere that blanketed the three foals as they entered the forest. The strange smell of exotic plants filled the air as they wondered deeper. The only thing that seemed familiar was the sounds of animals, but even that was hauntingly muted.
All of these unfamiliar sensations made Red Embers nervous as she looked on from left to right, wondering what might be lurking behind the trees. She jumped in surprise when she heard a timber wolf howl in the distance. Although Red Embers was jittery and jumpy, Granny Smith and Bug-a-Boo pressed on without fear or hesitation.
Bug-a-Boo in particular had the same grin she had on her face the whole time as if she was going on a casual stroll in the park. “So are we getting close to the diamond dogs?”
“I think we’re going in the right direction.” Granny Smith’s ears twitched as she listened for any sign of timber wolves. As she climbed up and over a pile of logs, a strange dark shape loomed into her field of vision. She tentatively looked over the edge, and saw what appeared to a burlap sack lying on the ground. “What in tarnation is this?” She gingerly opened the sack and inside found four diamonds: red, yellow, green, and blue. The diamonds were neatly cut into uniform rectangles and sparkled in the sun.
“One of the diamond dogs must have left this behind,” said Granny Smith.
“But where did they go?” asked Red Embers.
The howl of the timber wolves echoed throughout the forest, startling the three fillies.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think we should go any further,” said Granny Smith.
“Well, if you’re getting scared, we could go back,” said Red Ember, trying to hide the quiver in her voice. “Let’s get out of here.”
The three fillies raced out of the forest with Bug-a-Boo carrying the bag in her teeth. They escaped the forest and found themselves back at the stake, the horseshoes still lying where they landed.
“Hey, Boo,” said Granny Smith. “Why did you bring that bag along?”
“I recognize these diamonds,” said Bug-a-Boo. “They’re elemental diamonds. A perfect set of four, each representing the four elements. I’ve seen these kinds of diamonds before, I just can’t remember where. I’m going to fly over to the library and find out.”
“But what about the game?” asked Red Embers.
Bug-a-Boo picked up her saddlebag, stuffed the diamonds inside, and strapped it on. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you can say ‘rhinoceros beetle.’”
“Rhino—“ Before Red Embers could finish, Bug-a-Boo took off into the air, speeding off toward the tree where the library was located. “—ceros beetle?”
“That filly is so random,” said Granny Smith.
“Yeah, but she’s fast for some pony with such small wings.”
“Why do ya suppose she’s so interested in a couple of dumb old rocks, anyway?”
“I don’t know...Maybe they look like beetles.”
The fillies giggled when suddenly, Bug-a-Boo skidded to a halt in front of them.
“You guys, I have the solution to our diamond dog problem.”
“How’d ya get here so fast?”
Without answering Granny Smith’s question, Bug-a-Boo stuck her snout into her saddlebag and pulled out a library book. She dropped the book at her hooves so her friends could see the title: The Golem of Plotue.
Red Embers ran a hoof along the cover as if she had never seen a book before. “What’s the book for?”
“I was reading this book yesterday. It tells the story of this town called Plotue that was invaded by marauding griffons. So the villagers built a golem to defend them.”
“What in the hay is a golem?” asked Granny Smith,
“It’s a pony made of rocks and dirt.” Bug-a-Boo opened the book. “And this book explains how they made the golem. We could make our own golem to protect the farm.”
“I’m liking this idea,” said Red Embers.
“But how are the three of us going to make a golem?” asked Granny Smith.
Bug-a-Boo dumped out the diamonds from the bag. “These diamonds are just like the ones the ponies used in Plotue. We could build our own golem with the magic of these stones.”
“Are you sure this is safe?” asked Granny Smith.
Bug-a-Boo adjusted her glasses with one hoof. “What’s the worst that can happen?”