A day had passed and we were all back in Ponyville, our octet taking a late train back to the small town so as soon as we stepped off of the Friendship Express (still a nauseating name, if you ask me), it was nearly midnight. We bid each other good night and retired to our respective homes in preparation for the return to our kind-of, sort-of regular lives. It felt so nice to be back in Ponyville; Canterlot was too much: the sights, smells, sounds, ponies, everything and to this day, I am still incapable of comprehending how anyone of any species can stand to live in a setting like a sprawling metropolis or a ginormous castle. Perhaps I'm too simple to comprehend it but to me, a small-town lifestyle is the preferable location option, given that you can stay in a more sparsely-populated area where you know all of your neighbors and the sounds of chittering birds and singing crickets are there to lull you to sleep. Of course, it helps that my favorite individuals live in Ponyville and that might make me a tad biased but I feel as though the point still stands uncontested.
In fact, looking back on it, Canterlot was uncomfortably similar to Ásgarðr. They were both two great cities constructed on top of mountains that the common inhabitants of each respective land recognized as the destination of gods, each was ruled by an enigmatic and crafty monarch, and they were as resplendent and magnificent as they were full of hidden dangers and dangerous secrets. "What kind of secrets?" You may ask. Be patient, dear reader. I promise, all will be revealed soon enough and trust me, it will be worth the wait.
My sleep was brief but dreamless and despite my minor irritation at the meager rest I managed to collect, I was secure in the knowledge that nothing unexpected had been waiting to ambush me in the Dreamscape. Much of my ceiling-gazing was attributed to my newly-discovered immortality, a fact that still hung heavily within my mind like a raised anchor. Under different circumstances, I would've been either thrilled or nonchalant towards the prospect of eternal life. However, given the addition of an ersatz family, the notion of perpetual existence was a rather bitter pill to swallow and I was reluctant to face even a century as my friends aged and died around me. I thought back to my prior interaction with Princess Luna, specifically her words about coping with immortality:
"Everyone thinks that immortality makes life worth living but it is the reverse. Life, and those around you, are what makes immortality worthwhile."
Pretty words to be certain, but it's their application that I'm interested in.
It was around four or five in the morning when I emerged from my doghouse, stretching my limbs one at a time and groaning as tiny pops echoed from each expanded muscle. I went for a pre-breakfast run, diving and weaving my way through the outer thickets of the Everfree Forest. Since the run-in with the chimera, I tried to avoid going too deep into those woods, not out of fear, mind you, only because of my unfamiliarity with that particular location. I pounced on an Everfree badger and clamped my teeth around its neck, killing it instantly and wasting no time tearing into the still-warm meat. Pausing mid-bite, I puffed out my cheeks and threw up the rancid-tasting flesh, mentally noting how much better it was going out than coming in, that off-kilter taste teaching me to never hunt in that area again.
The rest of the corpse I tossed into a nearby pit, where the sounds of snarling and ravenous ripping noises promptly followed and I deigned not to stick around and find out what sort of creatures lived down there. Now, I'm not an advocate for deforestation (obviously) but that entire accursed forest needs to be burned down and the scorched earth blessed by a druid or something. It's honestly shocking that no Ponyvillians (Ponyvillites? Ponyvillans?) took a torch and hedge-trimmers to it sooner, concluding that perhaps some malefic force was keeping the superstitious ponies from ridding themselves of the Everfree once and for all. Twilight once told me that it was once the site of awesome goetic sorcery and many tales of wicked spirits and dark monsters most foul dwelt deep within the accursed woods. The sensation of pure evil flowed all around me, the very air I breathed tainted with the miasma of decaying depravity and corrupt magic so perhaps there was some nugget of truth to the rumors and campsite ghost stories.
Seven o' clock rolled around by the time that I returned to the doghouse for some breakfast, namely bacon and water, which I wolfed down in no time flat. Yes, I know, I went for the most obvious pun.
Sue me.
When I last spoke with Princess Luna, I told her about Týr's favorite color being blue and as I closed the door, I heard:
"Then I shall decorate this whole room with different hues of blue!"
I partially meant it in jest but Princess Luna was so pleased by my answer that she ordered the kitchen staff to pack as much meat as I could carry for my trip home. Mostly bacon, of course. Now, am I saying that it's only good to perform acts of kindness due to any potential rewards? Of course not! Buuuuut, it certainly works as a great incentive.
"Hey Angel."
The rabbit bounded in front of my doghouse and scratched one ear.
"Welcome back, Fen," he said casually. "I was wondering when your noxious musk would cloud my nose."
"You're one to talk. You stink of half-rotten carrots and unwashed, sun-bleached lettuce."
Angel sniffed his armpit, let out an alarmed squeak and shuddered.
"Alright, maybe you're right."
"And that's another point for m-..."
My thought was interrupted when something knocked me off balance and sent me sprawling on my back. Blinking in confusion, I found a familiar collie peering down at me, her paws stroking my chest.
"Hello there," Winona cooed softly, adding in a double eyelash flutter.
The sun gently illuminated her dark brown and white coat, making her look all the more beautiful.
"Hello yourself," I smirked up at her, earning me a long lick up my neck and cheek.
"I missed yoooou," she sing-sang in a low, almost sultry manner.
"Thanks," I remarked in a chipper tone.
Drawing herself up, Winona frowned, then puffed up her cheeks and let out an annoyed sigh.
"Really?"
"I'm kidding! I...I missed you too, Winnie."
Satisfied with the sincerity of my voice, Winona's smile returned and gave me room to stand back up.
I shook myself free of dirt and looked at my girlfriend curiously.
"You're oddly affectionate. Any particular reason?"
Winona slid right alongside me and gently nuzzled the underside of my chin, humming in delight as she repeatedly huffed in my scent.
"Can't a gal just miss the wolf she adores?"
I chuckled and buried my muzzle into the crook of her neck, inhaling her thick but pleasant aroma of wet moss and, of course, apple trees. I didn't realize how much I was craving until it passed through my sinus cavities.
"Of course. Just as I adore you."
"Awww," Angel mockingly said, making an exaggerated kissy face.
I rolled my eyes and ignored him, basking in the scent of my female.
"Winona! There you are!"
Apple Bloom raced towards us, followed closely by Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo.
The trio skidded to a stop, nearly colliding with one another.
"The CMCs. What are you doing here? It's awfully early."
"Right, I kind of forgot you can talk now," Sweetie Belle said somewhat bashfully. "It'll take some more getting used to."
"I know right?" Scootaloo mused. "Just a couple of months ago, he was just a normal tiny pup and now, he's huge and talking! Life's weird, huh?"
"Sister, you don't know the half of it," Angel squeaked, so only Winona and I heard him.
"Anyway," Apple Bloom began. "We were takin' Winona for a walk an' she must've heard us talkin' about how you were home an' she just took off."
"It's good to see you gals again," I smiled warmly, tucking my teeth behind my lips.
Scootaloo nudged Sweetie Belle.
"Go ahead and ask him."
"Yeah," Applebloom added. "You pulled the short straw."
Sweetie Belle sighed, then faced me fully, if a bit demure.
"Hey Fen? Today is Show-and-Tell Day at school..and we were wondering...would you come to class with us?"
I blinked. "Me? You want me to be your show-and-tell project?"
The three fillies peered down at the ground.
"We kind of forgot to pick something," Apple Bloom admitted. "And school starts in an hour!"
"I mean, if you wouldn't mind," Sweetie Belle smiled nervously.
Perhaps sensing my apprehension, the CMCs pursed their lips and made their eyes go freakishly big.
Seriously, it was kind of disturbing how adorable they were. And they're fillies! They're already adorable!
"Pleeeeease?" They all whimpered in unison.
Winona chortled at this. "Looks like they've got ya, Sugarcube."
Damn it...
"Alright, alright, quit with that. I'll do it."
The trio hollered in glee and performed a simultaneous high-hoof.
"Cutie Mark Crusaders Guilt-Trip Maneuver!"
Little ne'er-do-wells...playing me like a fiddle and then smashing my soundbox.
"However," I added with a raised paw. "I'm not a performing circus dog, so no tricks. That includes fetching, rolling over, shaking hooves, playing dead, dancing, or any variations of the above-mentioned articles. Agreed?"
They all nodded, though seeing as how things rarely panned out the way that I expected, I was fully prepared for one or all of them to break their word. I suppose I was just stupidly sentimental around those three and decided to throw them a metaphorical bone. Maybe this could be like those "Friendship Missions" (bleh!) the Six go on from time to time. From what I hear, it's pretty much them going somewhere and imploring others to live in peace and harmony, yadda, yadda. I mean, come on, how hard can that be?
"Thank you so much!" Sweetie Belle cried gratefully.
"You really are awesome, Fen!" Scootaloo beamed.
"That I am," I agreed and gave Scootaloo's cheek a big, slobbery lick.
"Whoa, pfft! Ew, gross!"
Scootaloo giggled and tackled me in a bear hug, the other two following suit.
Winona snickered and tossed me a cheeky wink.
I informed Mother of my plans and she was beyond giddy with the prospect of me socializing in a new setting, "broadening my horizons" and "making new friends".
"But Mother, don't I have enough friends?" I naively asked her.
Fluttershy giggled. "Oh Fen, you can never have too many friends."
Right, because you've clearly never heard of, "Too much of a good thing."
Obviously, I never voiced that cynical-sounding sentiment and instead told her that while I doubted her opinion in this matter, I would do my best.
"That's all I want," she replied with a reaffirming head-pat.
Okay, fine, so head-pats are better than bacon. Buck!
Sometimes, I really hate this realm.
"Don't forget, Fen," Fluttershy reminded me. "You have magic lessons with Twilight at four o' clock."
"Got it."
"And if you get hungry or thirsty, I packed some extra water and treats in your bags."
"Hmm-hmm."
"And while you're out, could you maybe pick up some bird seeds? I ordered three extra-large sacks and they should be due to arrive today."
I nodded and made it to the door. "I will. See you later, Mother."
"Fen? Aren't you forgetting something?"
She was right. I slid into her waiting embrace and exhaled satisfactorily.
"I love you, Fen."
"I love you too, Mother. I'll see you later."
I found the CMCs waiting patiently for me outside of the cottage sans Winona, who I gathered must've gone back to Sweet Apple Acres on her own. The four of us made the trek into town, the little miscreants riding on my back as we passed the various shopkeepers and residents, none of whom so much as batted an eye at the display. In fact, almost everypony waved cheerfully in our direction, bombarding us with, "Good morning, Fen!" or "How's it going, fillies?" It was that little slice of normalcy I'd been lacking in Canterlot, that tiny sense of warm satisfaction that came with living in such a tight-knit community. I truly was at home.
As we neared the town's clock tower, I noticed a pair of ponies that I hadn't seen in a while.
"Hello Time Turner, Derpy."
The gray pegasus waved wildly at me, her eccentric companion briefly gazing up from his schematics to nod politely. From the look of it, it was a plan for some kind of metal dog appropriately, if lazily, called, "K-9".
"Hiya Fen! Fillies! What are you up to?"
"We're taking Fen to school," Scootaloo answered. "He's our show-and-tell project!"
"Oo, sounds fun! I always loved show-and-tell! Can you guess what I brought in?"
"Muffins?" I ventured.
Derpy chuckled. "Nope! Either my ant-farm or my butterfly collection. I'm really into entomology. That's the study of insects!"
Huh, well what do you know! And here I thought she was a one-note mare with only one interest.
"Neat! So, uh, did you guys figure out the issue with the tattooed human or the dragon wars?"
Time Turner's head darted up from his schematics, his face frozen in shock and alarm.
"What did you say?"
I blinked in confusion. "You know, a few months back, you and Derpy were running around screaming about someone called 'Silver Tongue' and a sleeping god, which turned out to be Týr?"
"What is he talking about, Doctor?" Derpy inquired of the stallion.
Rubbing his chin, Time Turner frowned towards his companion.
"I think it's possible that our future doppelgangers must've arrived during our absence and tried to warn Ponyville of impending events! We must investigate this further. Quick, to the TARDIS!"
Wasting no time, the Distractedly Odd Duo sped into the clock tower and slammed the door shut behind them. From within, I heard the distinct sound of a cloister bell and a strange huffing whoosh, followed closely by a mechanical groaning. It was shortly accompanied by what I can best describe as a kind of vworp-vworp-vworp! before the clock tower went dead silent.
"What in the Sam Hill was that?" Applebloom asked.
"No idea," Scootaloo replied with a slow head-shake. "Sweetie Belle?"
"I don't have a single clue. Fen?"
"I find it best not to question such things," I said simply and we continued on our way.
~*~
"Welcome to our school!" My passengers proudly informed me.
The Ponyville Schoolhouse, in much the same style of the rest of the town's structures, was an outwardly inviting and brightly-colored single-story building, one befitting a land of tiny cutesy pastel horses that desired a safe space for their offspring's' early education. Its exterior walls were a freshly-painted red-orange and the gable roof's tiles were rounded and dark red-brown in hue, glowing warmly in the light of the mid-morning sun. All along the walls and trim, as well as above the windows, the schoolhouse contained a swirl-and-heart motif, bringing to mind, at least for me, some kind of love-shrine constructed for Hearts and Hooves Day. As for the roof, it was topped with a belfry crowned by a heart-tipped arrow-shaped weather vane, the metal rod creaking lightly in the caress of the minuscule breeze. A red swallow-tailed flag semi-fluttering from the dark oak flagpole, lazily waving as though to beckon the oncoming group of foals to enter.
I'd stopped about twenty feet away and lowered myself to the ground, allowing the three fillies upon my back to disembark by sliding down my side. I stared uncertainly at the building ahead of me. Other than the CMCs and the Cake Twins, I really didn't spend much time with foals. They were, after all, smaller versions of their adult counterparts and one wrong move could spell disaster for them and my livelihood. Plus, I'm not really a fan of the idea of schools and if you were to bring up Twilight's lessons, I would retort that they feel more like informal training sessions with a friend rather than formal educational classes with a professional instructor. Fighting off a sadistic and ravenous chimera? Easy. Walking into a foal's schoolhouse? Negative.
"Hey, are you alright?"
Sweetie Belle was peering up at me with concern, her friends following suit.
"I'm, er..." I swallowed. "I'm...uncertain about this..."
"Aw, you'll be okay!"
"Yeah, nothin' to it!" Applebloom assured me, giving the top of my muzzle a rub.
Scootaloo hoof-waved. "Totally, it's easy-peazy, lemon-squeezy!"
Raising to my paws, I took a deep breath and nodded.
"Let's do this then..."
Some of the youngsters were chatting excitedly and though my enhanced canine hearing could've easily deciphered their words, I purposely tuned them out, as I lacked any kind of inclination to listen to their prattle. Many of them noticed my approach with some measure of surprise and even awe; even in my "default form", the average foal would barely reach my stomach if I were standing quadrupedal. Not one of them looked scared in the slightest, a complete not-unexpected reaction but something I found reassuring none the less. A rather sour-looking magenta filly paused mid-conversation with a light gray classmate and fixed me with a disapproving stare, then turned her nose up in a snooty fashion and resumed whatever empty palaver she had been engaged in previously. Ah, that must be the (in)famous Diamond Tiara, the only daughter of Filthy Rich, the wealthiest pony in town and from what I understood, a real nasty piece of work.
I remember seeing her once or twice, usually in the company of her equally-snobbish mother or that gray filly. To think, somepony was actually hanging out with her voluntarily of their own volition.
The school-bell rang and the children all began to enter the building, the CMCs excitedly ushering me up the white steps and through the simple russet-brown door. The interior was not at all what I expected, that being white walls covered in pink swirls and red hearts, you know, details that would mirror the outside. Instead, the walls were a light beige decorated with vertical apple green accents, all of which reached up to a dark spring green-gridded olivine tile ceiling. A repeating pattern of jungle green horseshoes and robin egg blue galloping fillies lined the top wall trim. Sunlight poured in from the windows, each one equipped with brass rods supporting thick mantis green curtains.
Yeesh, all of this green just might make me hurl.
Twelve wooden desks were arranged in neat rows of four, and the CMCs chose the unoccupied seats in the back of the classroom, presumably to avoid being called out first. Applebloom sat on the far right and considering the fact that I oddly found myself at ease the most with her, I took my spot right next to the farm-filly and she smiled reassuringly at me. I would like to point out that this meant throwing the back row beneath my shadow and potentially putting them off. Again, just like when I give ponies a close-mouthed grin, I want to avoid freaking any of them out with either my size or my sharp teeth. I know the townsponies aren't scared of me but the instinctual fear of predators is always at the background of their subconscious minds and I certainly don't want to add to that.
At the head of the classroom, a cerise-colored mare stood in front of a chalkboard, her cutie mark depicting three smiling flowers. The teacher, Cheerilee, was another Ponyville resident I saw around town but didn't interact with in any meaningful fashion, though I did hear from several dependable sources that she was well-loved as a teacher, neighbor, and friend. This certainly aided in keeping me relaxed and her gentle gaze briefly meeting mine cemented that feeling of peace.
"Good morning, class!"
"Good morning, Miss Cheerilee," the whole room (minus myself) responded with varying degrees of interest.
"And what a lovely morning it is! Now, today is Show-and-Tell Day and I, for one, can't wait to see what you've all brought to class!"
From the front row, a well-manicured hoof shot up.
"Yes, Diamond Tiara?"
The filly in question pointed towards me.
"I don't think an animal like that should be allowed here."
"Why not? They let you in," I immediately retorted.
"Boom! He got you!" Scootaloo yelled, followed by a chorus of laughter.
Diamond Tiara's face went red, either from anger, embarrassment or both.
Cheerilee tapped her hoof on the floor and the giggling subsided.
"Now, now, Diamond Tiara, that's no way to talk about a guest, especially one that is an official Equestrian citizen."
"Yes, Miss Cheerilee," Diamond Tiara murmured, tossing me a quick glare.
"And Scootaloo, you know better than to speak without raising your hoof."
"Sorry, Miss Cheerilee."
Cheerilee then turned towards me.
"And Mister Fenrir, I know that remark was ill-mannered but that's no excuse," Cheerilee told me pleasantly but with an underlying sternness. "In my class, we do not make jokes at another's expense, am I clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am," I nodded.
"Now then," Cheerilee continued merrily, as though she hadn't been interrupted. "Who would like to go first?"
The first participant was a brown colt in a beanie, who energetically held up his "Fun-Colt Advance Pro X Ultra", some kind of a hoof-held electronic gaming device, explaining how it worked and displaying its various functions. One of his favorite games consisted of a blocky, pixelated world where the player harvests and collects raw materials in order to build things like wooden cabins or stone fortresses. I didn't get the point of such an invention; why simulate playing sports or pretending to be a different individual when you can actually go do that? If such a thing existed in Asgard or Vanaheim, then nothing would've been achieved. But then again, I'm not the intended consumer, so what do I know?
"That was so lame," Diamond Tiara muttered to her friend. "What a dumb little dweeb!"
"Yeah, he's stupid," the filly, Silver Spoon, muttered in kind. "No brain cells whatsoever."
"Is your head completely empty?!"
Angrboða towered over me, her right hand balled into a white-knuckled fist, her left hand lifting up the partially-ripped bottom hem of her apron, a light smattering of canine saliva covering the torn fabric. An earthenware bowl laid shattered on the floor, next to a partially-smashed jar half-submerged in a puddle of some unknown concoction that smelled faintly of pickled eel-flesh and burnt mayweed. A series of tiny wet footprints led from the table, across the wooden floorboards and into a small crevice, the only traces left of the mouse that caused this whole debacle. Or rather, what I caused to make this debacle about.
The left side of my head was screaming in pain, my eye rendered partially swollen from the impact of my mother's fist.
"Answer me when I am speaking to you!"
Dragging my head off of the ground, I staggered to my paws in a lopsided manner.
"N-no, Mother..."
Across the other side of the room, Jǫrmungandr was peering at me somewhat sympathetically before he turned away, his eyes clamped shut as if to defend himself from the pitiful sight. Hel, to no one's surprise, was grinning from ear to ear, the teeth on the corpse-blue side of her face partially exposed beneath the withered, leathery flesh of her cheek. Her asymmetrical rictus was so razor sharp that it threatened to cut through her face, an improvement in my opinion.
"Look at this mess!" Angrboða screeched, lowering her wrath-etched face towards mine. "And for what? Some meaningless little rodent? A filthy, unwanted bottom-feeder?"
"He...I didn't want you to kill him," I murmured timidly, not daring to meet her ireful gaze.
"It was a mouse, Fenrir! A disgusting, loathsome pest that was made to be trodden underfoot and forgotten! Now thanks to you, that mouse is going to return again for my food. Was destroying my property worth it?"
"No..."
Exhaling loudly through her nostrils, Angrboða pointed towards the door.
"Get out of my sight. Your stupidity is aggravating me and ruining my day. How I could birth such a simple-minded creature like you defies all understanding! Don't come back inside until I call for you. If I call for you..."
Something nudged my shoulder and I found Applebloom regarding me with slight worry.
"Fen, are you okay?" She whispered. "You kinda zoned out there."
I nodded, "I'm fine. I just...didn't get a lot of sleep, is all."
"Thank you, Dinky. Very nice presentation!"
A wall-eyed unicorn filly bounced away from the front of the classroom, an ant farm or "formicarium" suspended in her light cyan magical grip. I can never remember if she's Derpy's daughter, little sister, or cousin, or if the two are even related at all. Does it really matter, though?
Cheerilee then stared towards the back of the class.
"Cutie Mark Crusaders, are you ready for your turn?"
"C'mon, Fen," Applebloom gestured as she and the others climbed out of their seats.
The four of us stood before ten pairs of curiosity-filled eyes.
Sweetie Belle cleared her throat. "Fillies and gentlecolts, for today's show-and-tell, we would like to present our friend, Fen."
"Hello, everypony," I greeted, nodding my head politely.
"Most of you are familiar with him but for those of you who don't know, Fen is a lupus giganticus from a world called 'Jotunheim, which is located in another dimension far, far away from our own.'"
"Ooo...," the class collectively uttered at once, the sole exception being Diamond Tiara.
"Fen is really smart," Applebloom started. "In fact, he's so smart that he's taking magic lessons from Princess Twilight Sparkle herself."
The students excitedly chattered at this and I couldn't help but feel smug. A pegasus filly wearing glasses and a tiara raised her hoof.
"Can we see it?"
The whole of the seated assembly leaned in, their gazes full of eager expectation. Miss Cheerilee was most intrigued as well, peering over her desk enraptured by the very thought of seeing some advanced "lupine magic." Even Diamond Tiara had been roused from her apathetic state, finally appearing interested in something other than her hooficure and too stared at me with curiosity. Giving the CMCs an affirmative nod, I cycled through my breathing, drawing in air and then forcing it out. Unblinkingly diverting my gaze to the floor, I concentrated on a spot approximately two feet in front of me, looking beyond the surface and into the smooth grain of the wooden floorboards.
In...and out...
The floor is my entire world. Nothing exists except the floor.
Focus...
It's more than just a plank of wood. It is an extension of a living being.
Focus...
Imagine the interior of the wood plank, the reshaped tree that lies within.
Focus...
In and out...
Draw out the life still remaining, no matter how minuscule it is...
My paw hovered an inch above the floor, a light emerald glow encasing it.
Focus...
I willed my own energy to flood the board, briefly illuminating it with a viridian gleam before the mystically-conduced force congregated into the wood's heart and seemingly dissipated. After half a minute, the floorboard soon vibrated, drumming lightly in a soft but persistent staccato. Little "veins", for lack of a better word, pulsated along the smooth, polished surface, which murmured with roaming thaumaturgical power. Much like a row of ants, the magic threads woven into the lumber moved in unison, working together towards a singular purpose.
In the center of the board, a splinter no larger than an apple-seed noiselessly sprang up like a soldier standing at attention. It was soon joined by another, then more, until it formed a spiraling ring of jagged wood fibers. Within the ring, an oak bud peeked out into the open air before deciding to depart from the warmth and safety of its wooden confines and ascend inch by inch. A throbbing pricking twinge formed on my brow, pinching the flesh in what I assumed to be an indication of magical strain affecting me but I pressed on, ignoring the jabbing in my skull so that I could complete my task. Gradually, a crown of leaves emerged from the sapling's forked peak and my captive audience finally released their long-held breaths, gasping incredulously at the labor of my performance.
The sharp, tingling pangs traveled down the right side of my face, squeezing the flesh of my cheek and temple. Something viscous raced down my left nostril and I knew it was blood even before the scent of copper hit me. Letting loose a slight exhaling gasp, I finally dropped my paw and allowed my body to go half-limp, cutting off my magic and ending the flow of power to the newly-developed oak sapling. I coughed, the air rushing back into my lungs slightly salty but nevertheless nourishing to my exhausted form. Scootaloo was the first to rush to my side, massaging my back and muttering something; the ringing in my ears made it difficult to decipher her words.
"Tem, par yoom hro-yay?"
Applebloom and Sweetie Belle also lent me their concern with head and forelimb pats and from their lip-movements I could tell they were inquiring about my health.
"Fen, are you okay?" Scootaloo repeated.
I nodded and licked my lips as the ringing subsided.
"Ta-daaaa..." I managed in a mock-energetically whimsical tone.
The classroom erupted in applause, hooves either clacking together or banging on desktops.
"Not bad," I heard Diamond Tiara nonchalantly state amidst the cheering. Meanwhile, Silver Spoon was whistling and whooping in her seat as though she'd seen the most amazing thing in her life.
I took a little bow and began to sway slightly. The discombobulation made me unsteady on my paws and I was thankful for my friends shepherding me back to the rear of the classroom. Perhaps it was a little thing but making a small classroom of foals-and one mare-hollering and commend me was one of the singularly greatest moments of this wolf's second life.
~*~
"Are ya sure yer okay?"
After I'd finished quaffing my third pailful of water, I slurped at the bottom and nodded.
"Yes, Applebloom, I'm fine."
Following the conclusion of my little demonstration, Cheerilee fetched a spare bucket from the school's supply closet and my companions filled it via a water-spigot towards the back of the building. Thankfully, the pain had mostly subsided by then, going from a stabbing, vice-like spasm and declining into a mild buzzing headache. Hopefully, this little migraine will have completely vacated the premises by the time I have my appointment with Twilight at Four. The last thing that I needed was to be a mess before the lesson had even begun. Maybe I should've just levitated a coffee mug or something?
"Do you need more water?" Sweetie Belle offered but I declined with a head-shake.
"That was amazing!" Scootaloo declared. "I mean, sure, you didn't grow an entire tree but it was a start!"
"Yeah...I think I'm going to lay off that kind of magic for a while," I said resolutely. "I'm happy with just a sapling."
It wasn't often that I used sorcery and maybe that made me a tad rusty at times, sort of like a bodybuilder that hasn't lifted weights in months and decided to pick it back up. Sure, I used magic to keep myself at a more manageable size but that wasn't something that required constant effort and physical strain as a result. Size alteration wasn't as strenuous as, say, florokinetic thaumaturgy or transfiguration, so I could go from average to gigantic with no additional input. Some magic, like telekinesis, was simplistic, existing as little more than a simple thought put into kinetic motion, i.e., placing a book on a shelf. What I did in the classroom was much more than that: targeting the object, focusing my energies into transmogrifying already-existing matter, sub-atomic rearrangement, manipulation of long-deceased cells to create new life-form
"That was pretty amazing," Sweetie Belle admitted, rubbing an itchy spot behind my right ear. "But please be careful next time, okay? I don't want to lose a friend just because he wants to look cool."
"Hey, uh, Fen?"
Some of the other foals approached us, led by a gray pegasus colt holding a big red rubber ball.
"Would you and your friends want to play with us?"
"Yess, that'd be sso cool!" A red-headed filly lisped.
"What do you say, girls-...?"
"LET'S DO IT!" The trio announced and I happily followed them.
As for the rest of the class, Show-and-Tell Day was comparatively boring when contrasted with my transmogrification feat. When it came time for Diamond Tiara to be called forward, she boasted about a rare jewel-encrusted puzzle-box her father bought for her while he was granted an audience with the Duke of South Dimondia, the city of the Diamond Dog Empire. These "Diamond Dogs" were a race of subterranean semi-bipedal canines known for their love of gems, their predilection for mining, and their skills as metallurgists, which reminded me of the tales Týr would weave about the Dwarves of Niðavellir. The foals, it would seem, remained thoroughly unimpressed, the sole exception being Silver Spoon, the bespectacled filly clapping for her friend and listening with rapt attention. Fuming, Diamond Tiara returned to her desk and shot me glare, though she said nothing about me or the CMCs for the rest of the school-day.
During recess, Cheerilee managed to safely harvest the sapling, keeping it in a small sky blue ceramic vase covered with little dark violet diamonds connected by matching intersecting lines. She planned to present it to Twilight and in the meantime, proudly displayed it on her desk. She and the students, minus a certain pair of fillies, continued to warmly interact with me and I seriously contemplated returning to the school sometime. The subject matter would be simplistic in my eyes but the presence of my friends and newfound acquaintances would make that well worth it. Who knows? Maybe it might even turn into a regular occurrence.
No, maybe not. But a nice thought nonetheless.
The school-day concluded with a bell-ring and all of the students scrambled for the door. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon were the first ones to exit, the former briefly pausing to toss me a glare before galloping away in a huff. As if I care. I merrily trotted along the long dirt road, my spirits high as three marvelous fillies clung to my back. While the sun was high in the sky, the wind had picked up a little and nipped at my neck but it was a non-issue; nothing could dampen my spirits.
"Say, Fen?"
I perked my ear up. The CMCs had been whispering amongst themselves and, figuring that it must've been a private conversation, I chose to tune out their conversation and focus on the nice weather.
"Hmm?"
Applebloom continued: "Could you drop us off at our clubhouse? We've got a special meeting planned."
I shrugged, "Sure. Not a problem."
With my longer stride, it didn't take long before we'd arrived at Sweet Apple Acres. Autumn had arrived in full force, as the leaves on the trees had gone from dark fern green to bright orange, saffron yellow, light gray-brown, and deep vermilion, giving the orchard a very warm, almost sleepy feel to it. I began to think back to autumns long past in Jǫtunheimr but then just as quickly banished those thoughts, having no desire to revisit more painful memories that day. The Running of the Leaves had to be postponed until next week, something about a parasprite infestation and Pinkie using music to banish them. Yep, I live in a world where that's a sentence.
Thanks to my earlier contributions, most of the apple trees were empty of fruit and that left little work to be done, at least when it came to stocking up the apple supplies for the winter. From my experience, there was always work of some kind to be done on the farm, be it picking fruit or feeding the livestock. Actually, that last bit confused me for the longest time. Why do ponies, a strictly vegetarian species, even keep animals like pigs, cows, and chickens if they don't eat them? That'd be if a linnormr decided to keep its loose shed skins; it just serves no purpose.
Actually, as it turns out, many Equestrian farms raise livestock for the purpose of selling the meat, milk, and eggs to carnivorous and omnivorous races like griffons, minotaurs, gremlins, and trolls, which are only tangentially alike to the ones back in Jǫtunheimr. Equestrian trolls are essentially just big dumb brutes with heads full of rocks and are unable to be out in sunlight as it turns them to stone. That makes them sound more like the Dökkálfar, or "Dark Elves" of Svartálfheim, the bitter enemies of the Ljósálfar, or "Light Elves", and one-time slavers of the Dwarfs. Last I checked, the Dark Elves participated in Ragnarǫk to fight alongside the enemies of the gods but I have no clue as to their final fate. If beings like Níðhǫggr, Ratatoskr, and the Nornir were able to survive, then perhaps they did too.
We four arrived at the Cutie Mark Crusader Clubhouse, a small two-story peach-colored hut situated in an old apple tree. To think, my diminutive friends here took a rickety, dilapidated rat-nest and, through hard work and what I presume to be a fair amount of elbow-grease, transformed it into their own little private sanctuary to conduct their club meetings. If nothing else, I could admire the trio for their sheer determination and work ethic. It kind of made me wonder if I were to have puppies in this land and what they'd be like before I shut down that line of thought. No use thinking about that sort of issue so early now, is there?
I let the CMCs down and gave myself a little shake. "Okay, it was great spending time with you but I know you're itching to have one of your meetings so I'll get going. I'll see you fillies later!"
"Wait, Fen!"
I gave Scootaloo a curious look. She and her compatriots shared silent glances.
"Would you like to come up with us?"
All three nodded enthusiastically.
Interesting...
"Sure, if that's okay," I replied and followed them up the L-shaped ramp. I was a bit suspicious of the conspiratorial way they each glanced towards me but I soon let it go.
The clubhouse's dark yellow interior was a bit obnoxious to me, however that aesthetic choice wasn't for me to critique. The room was spacious, being large enough to accommodate my stature with no problem so I could avoid ducking my head and still have enough space to breathe. The decor was rather spartan: a couple of framed pictures on the walls, curtains for two of the windows, one mauve-colored and featuring some sort of triple flower petal motif while the other a checkered raspberry and orchid, a grayish red-orange rug, and a wooden crate standing solitary in one corner, a potted sunflower kept atop its well-dusted surface. The furniture consisted of a small green desk, a low-level table, and a podium, light from a hanging ceiling lantern aiding the natural sunbeams in keeping the space well-illuminated. A pull-down folding ladder in the ceiling allotted the fillies access to the second story, though the short flight of dark green steps kind of made the ladder a bit redundant, though I suppose it was an alternate entrance should the stairs prove unavailable.
Sweetie Belle held out a strip of sapphire blue cotton fabric.
"Please put on this blindfold."
I snorted in amusement and did as I was requested, tying the blindfold around my eyes and tightening the knot.
"So...now what?"
"Give us a minute," I heard Applebloom announce, followed closely by Scootaloo:
"Yeah, don't rush us!"
Oh, so they had some sort of surprise in store for me? How cute.
Something creaked, what I guessed was some kind of box-lid, accompanied by the rustling of fabric. Two of them clop-clop-clopped up and down the stairs and judging from the squeaking sounds, it was a pair of objects on wheels. There was some scraping and light grunting trailed by some more rustling and some light tapping. What were these fillies doing? My guess was that maybe it was a school project that they wanted me to see?
"We're ready!"
I removed my blindfold and let it fall to the floor. Sweetie Belle was positioned at the podium, while Scootaloo and Applebloom respectively took their places at her left and right. Above them hung a burgundy banner featuring the profile of a rampant golden-yellow filly within a cornflower-blue circle, while all three wore matching capes that were exact duplicates of the banner. Scootaloo was poised at a pair of kettledrums, explaining the sound of wheels I heard earlier, as well as the thudding of hooves on wooden steps. Scootaloo immediately rapped on the drums, though she did so with her hooves in place of drumsticks or mallets.
Clearing her throat, Sweetie Belle pounded on the podium with a homemade gavel-a soup can taped to a forked stick-and promptly unfolded a scroll.
"'We have called upon this special meeting of the Cutie Mark Crusaders to recognize one Fenrir as our most trusted canine compadre, our four-legged friend, our wolfish well-wisher, our-...'"
"I thought you said you were goin' to revise it?" Applebloom whispered out of the corner of her grin.
"Hey, do you want to do this the right way?"
Again, Sweetie Belle cleared her throat. "...'In recognition of his selflessness, courage, kindness, and overall awesomeness as a friend and confidante, we hereby recognize Fen as an official honorary member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, our cohort in crusading, brother-in-arms and most valuable 'ash-shoe-cement?' Whoops, says, 'associate.' Last time I use indigo ink."
Come again?
"CONGRATULATIONS!"
Applebloom tossed some confetti in the air while Scootaloo beat out another tune on her drums. From behind the podium, Sweetie Belle retrieved a piece of cloth and unfurled it to reveal a cape similar to hers and her friends', except slightly bigger and fastened in place with a thick stainless steel hook-and-eye closure. The green aura-encompassed cape flew over to me and was secured around my shoulders. There was music and high-hooves and talk of an ice cream celebration party but I was the only one not joining in on the merriment. All I could do was sit there dumbfounded, my face inexplicably damp and smelling of salt.
It was funny how something as simple as a rectangular-cut swath of fabric could elicit such strong emotions. Here I was, a former harbinger of death and destruction, crying like a child just because of a foal-made cape. I'm certain the old me would've scoffed at this, mocking my current predicament and calling me a pathetic weakling. However, I no longer cared what the old me thought or the kind of monster that I was, only the person that I'd grown into. This little initiation ceremony meant more to me than anyone, even myself, would ever know and I would treasure this moment forever.
The three halted their celebration and noted my quiet sobbing with great distress.
"Fen, are you okay?" Scootaloo asked sadly. "What's the matter?"
"Did we do something wrong?" Applebloom inquired carefully.
I sniffled, then shook my head. "No, you didn't do anything wrong. Really, I'm okay. This is just, whoo, a great honor you've given me and I..."
"AWWW..."
The three enveloped me in a group hug and I basked in the warmth of their physical warmth and their emotional comfort, my spirit soaring higher than it ever had before. This truly is a blessed life I have thus far, one full of love, laughter, and mutual respect and trust. I guess...friendship is really magic.
~*~
"That was completely irresponsible!"
Yep, I should've seen that coming.
When I first walked into the Friendship Castle, Twilight was there waiting for me and she did not look pleased or at the very least, trying to appear that way. She told me that Cheerilee had indeed shown her the oak sapling that I'd grown and demanded an explanation, leading me to the Map Room and asking me to take a seat. I then proceeded to give her my full account as accurately as I could manage, the alicorn's expression fluctuating between pride, curiosity, amusement, and tender benignity. However, Twilight abruptly stopped me when I began to relate to her my magic feat involving the sapling, her face taking on a mix of both academic fascination and grave austerity. Taking a deep breath, Twilight looked me square in the eyes and adopted a much more relaxed posture.
"Fen," Twilight started calmly. "Do you realize what you were doing?"
"I...no, I don't."
"Ordinarily, that would be chloromancy, or 'plant magic', a type of empathic sorcery most commonly associated with earth ponies but accessible to unicorns as well. It is a delicate process in which the caster essentially coaxes the flora to grow, extending their own positive emotions to the plant in an emotionally symbiotic relationship. Chloromancy, in its most basic form, is establishing a bond based on nurturing and understanding, life supporting life."
Twilight's tone took on a more serious edge.
"Wood that has been removed from a tree is no longer living, much like surgically removing a limb from a sentient biological organism like a pony or a dog. Since we're discussing a thaumaturgical system based on emotion and vitality, chloromancy has no effect on dead material from a plant: branches, leaf clippings, rotten fruit, et cetera."
I considered this. "So...what did I do?"
Leaning forward, Twilight said softly but firmly, "Essentially, you induced the growth of a new plant from the floorboard by placing some of your own life force into the wood, manipulating a technically deceased piece of matter through force of will. That borders dangerously close to necromancy."
In spite of the fact that it was an extremely taboo topic, I had a very clear definitive and technical understanding of what that word meant. Necromancy was a form of dark magic involving the manipulation of the dead, both corporeal and incorporeal, allowing warlocks to either divine the future by speaking to spirits or corpses or raising the dead from their graves by manipulating cadavers, thus creating thoughtless undead servants. It was an expressly forbidden form of magic, legally and morally banned from Equestria and only mentioned in classrooms as to warn students against pursuing such an unforgivably monstrous practice. The last great necromancer was a dark unicorn by the name of King Sombra, whose likeness I'd seen in murals at Canterlot Castle, a cruel tyrant that conquered the Crystal Empire and enslaved the inhabitants to act as his slaves and necromantic test subjects. He was such a threat that it took the combined might of both Royal Sisters to defeat and banish him, not only ending his reign and driving away the final maleficent sorcery master from Equestria but leading to the eventual decline and borderline extinction of dark magic practitioners.
"Am I in trouble?"
Twilight declined in her chair. "No. However, I would strongly encourage you to never do that again. A piece of lumber is one thing but if you were to graduate from that to, say, a rat, then to a larger organism, you could very well wind up going down a path that nopony, not even Fluttershy, can lead you away from. Do you understand?"
I nodded sincerely. "Completely."
She let out a sigh of relief. "Very good! Now, let's get started on your lesson!"
The lesson this time was on self-levitation, also known as personal telekinesis, anti-gravity transportation, self-remote propulsion, and levitary mobility. Basically, instead of moving an object, I was learning how to use magic to propel myself through the air, or at the very least, hover a few feet above solid ground. According to Twilight, self-levitation was a fairly basic telekinetic method employed by school-age foals between the ages of nine to thirteen. Of course, she also had to mention that being the prodigy that she is, she learned how to levitate herself at age seven but assured me that it "wasn't that big of an accomplishment" and to "forget about". I mean, it's kind of hard to do that when she was saying it so casually and waving a hoof in a yeah-it's-impressive-but-don't-make-a-big-deal of it, mock-humble sort of manner.
Then again, I suppose there's nothing wrong with justified gratification over one's feats.
"Remember, Fen," Twilight instructed me once we were on the castle's front lawn. "It's no different than regular telekinesis. Just picture your goal, keep it at the forefront of your mind, and you will succeed. Magic is mostly two aspects: intent and belief."
"Got it."
I closed my eyes and took a breath in, imagining myself floating off the ground. Breathing out, I focused my magic around my form and began to repeat an internal mantra:
I will levitate, I will levitate, I will levitate!
A familiar tingling warmth enveloped my body, my aura wrapping me in a cocoon of crackling green light. My right front paw vibrated lightly as a numb prickling sensation overcame it, my left paw soon following suit. It didn't take long before all four were humming with arcane power, the ground beneath my toes heating up like coals inside of a brazier. The mantra proceeded to parade itself throughout my head, growing stronger and louder, my concentration intensifying more and more while the image of flight was transformed from a mere thought to an almost vivid mental picture.
I am levitating...I am levitating...
Gradually, the grass slid upward against my paw-pads, a curious impression of rising overwhelming me as my natural terrestrial mammalian senses kicked in. For a split second, I'd begun to panic but was able to get a grip on myself and keep my focus on maintaining the spell. The scent of roasted pepper increased, my stomach softly trembling from the alien sense of weightlessness. I could feel myself ascending and the urge to prevent myself from witnessing the occurrence had long since dissipated, so I finally opened my eyes. Thankfully, I was not terribly high, only about ten to eleven feet in the air yet I could not help but allow myself a whoop of triumph.
"Great job, Fen!" Twilight chirped, clapping her hooves ecstatically.
"Thank y-...oof!"
And just like that, my aura chose to flicker and evaporate, sending me plummeting back to the ground.
"Sweet Celestia! Fen, are you alright?!"
I shook my head to dislodge the tiny stars dancing above my field of vision and found Twilight peering worriedly over me.
"I think so," I muttered, rolling onto my belly and slowly rising to my paws.
Twilight let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Faust! Let's just be grateful you were at such a low altitude. Any higher and you might've gotten seriously hurt!"
"I'm okay, Twilight, really. It's going to take more than a little tumble to take me out of commission."
"If you're certain," Twilight hesitantly responded "Would you like to try again?"
"Does a margýgr smell like salt water?"
She stared at me blankly.
"That means yes."
Eight more attempts, eight more failures. At this point, I felt as though I was covered in more bruises than fur.
"I don't know what's wrong," Twilight voiced, although it seemed more to herself than to me. "Thaumaturgical aptitude is there, a very strong and visibly potent magic aura, a steady prowess for telekinesis...so what's missing?"
I dusted myself off and winced as I picked my sorry backside off of the ground.
"Maybe it's just not in the cards for me. For some magicians, apparently such skills come to them on a silver platter."
Twilight turned. "Wait, maybe that's it!"
"Care to share with the rest of the class?"
Overwrought explanation coming in 3, 2, 1...
"A silver platter is a kind of dishware, and dishware consists of bowls, cups, and, of course, plates!"
Twilight's hoof motions became more animated the longer her inane babbling commenced, which had picked up in speed and intensity as she paced around.
"Plates, as everypony knows, come in a variety of shapes and sizes but are most commonly designed and built to resemble disks. A disk, or rather, discus, an object meant to be thrown through the air at the Foalympics! When they are thrown, they tend to bounce forward in a skipping pattern, like skipping stones! And when you skip stones, both the gravity of the stone's roller-coastering trajectory as well as the reactive force of the water causes the stone to keep itself bouncing along the surface!"
Abruptly, the mare spun around once more.
"We've been going about this the wrong way!" Twilight concluded. "It takes time and practice for even dedicated magicians to telekinetically move large objects, and even longer to levitate, especially if they are of a larger size and weight, both of which require a great deal more concentration and mental-slash-physical, magically-induced exertion. Accounting for your proportions, as well as the excess force that is being expelled as a result of your normally abnormal mass, accompanied by the multitasking strain of active transmogrification spell-casting and attempted prolonged self-levitation, your magic aura must have difficulty supporting your full weight. However, if we were to distribute your weight upon evenly-arranged magical energy constructs, then you could, theoretically, be able to ascend!"
"...I still don't follow."
In lieu of a coherent verbal response, Twilight sent magic into her horn and created a small, twelve-and-a-half-foot disk floating ten inches above the ground. She then created three more disks to form a rectangle and gesturing towards them with a hoof.
"Try standing on them," Twilight elaborated calmly.
I shrugged, trusting her rationale, and did as I was bid, carefully climbing onto the disks and, wobbling a bit here and there, keeping myself balanced atop them.
"Hey, it works!" I observed joyfully.
Twilight nodded. "That supports my hypothesis. Your active size-management spell takes a lot of energy and concentration in order to function, so when you attempt more time-consuming and labor-draining spells, it takes up some of that energy, causing your true weight to rejoin gravity and pull down on you. As you are still a novice, self-levitation is a more difficult feat for you to perform so it requires more magic and your body begins siphoning off of your closest spell in a subconscious effort at conserving its reserves. However, energy constructs, such as these disks, require less time and effort to conjure and maintain, given that they are basic shapes and thus don't need as much focus as a more specifically-minded and labor-intensive spell, vis-à-vis transmogrification or levitation!"
"Huh," was all I could say.
I kind of checked out by that point and really only caught the last couple of sentences.
"I know it's a little advanced," Twilight said excitedly. "But perhaps if I can teach you how to make those constructs, you can use them to quote-unquote 'walk through the air' rather than hurting yourself until you get levitation right."
"It's certainly worth a shot," I agreed. "Should we try it?"
"Yes!" Twilight shouted and proceeded to do a clumsy but cute-looking little dance.
Ah, you silly little nerd you.
First, Twilight had me do a couple of practice tests: she would have me at various speeds while providing various disk-platforms to keep me airborne. This was to help acclimate me to their usage, ensuring that my muscle memory was well defined for handling the sudden twists, stops, turns, and hurdles that'd be expected from fast-thinking semi-aerial maneuvering. Incantation multitasking, the performance of enacting several different magical feats all at once, can be quite difficult for new beginners and solid mana-based constructs could fit neatly into that category. The creation and sustainability of ergokinetic constructs require much more imagination and mental concentration than, say, telekinesis, because that kind of thaumaturgy needs specific imagery and detail, such as size, scale, weight, scope, et cetera, et cetera. In essence, energy construct creation would be a skill added to my repertoire, despite the advanced nature of the practice but considering my jǫtun blood and sturdier physiology, it was speculated that I'd have a easier time learning this technique much sooner than a unicorn adept.
Plus, it didn't hurt that my teacher was an alicorn and magical prodigy.
I stepped off of the platform and it vanished. "I'm not going to lie, that was kind of fun."
"Likewise! Imagine the amount of data we now have to work with!"
Note to self: find Twilight a coltfriend.
~*~
"Mother, I'm home!"
Slipping through the cottage's front door, I set down my saddlebags and made certain that my Cutie Mark Crusaders cape was secure in place. The fabric was spotless and fit comfortably around my neck, covering my back and trailing down to just above my shoulders and over my rump. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby hanging wall mirror and thought that I looked pretty darn good, even if the cape appeared to be a little small on me. Setting aside his bowl of popcorn, Angel turned off the radio and climbed down from the sofa. He peered at me curiously and tilted his head.
"What are you wearing? Did you lose a bet?"
"I could say the same about your father banging your mother," I shot back.
"Real mature, Pooch. So what's with the get-up?"
Fluttershy glided down the steps and gasped.
"That's an amazing cape, Fen! Did the CMCs make that for you?"
"They did, Mother," I confirmed proudly. "Plus, they made me an honorary member of their club."
She let out a "Squee!" and hugged my neck tightly.
"Oh, congratulations, Fen! I'm so happy for you!"
"Thanks, Mother."
Angel nose-huffed and gave a light smile. "Nice job, Fen. Even if you do look like a clown."
Fluttershy shot Angel a warning glare. "Be nice, Angel. This is a huge step for Fen and we need to be supportive."
"Please tell me Pinkie isn't going to throw me a party," I half-heartedly groused. "It's seriously not that big of a-..."
"Did somebody say, 'Party'?!" Pinkie Pie enthusiastically inquired as she hung upside-down from the ceiling...somehow.
"Fen was just made an honorary member of the Cutie Mark Crusaders," Fluttershy beamed widely.
I held up a paw. "Yeah, it's cool but please, we don't need to throw-..."
"O-M-F! That's amazing!" Pinkie flipped off of the ceiling and landed gracefully on all four hooves. "I'm thinking that we need streamers, lots of streamers! Oo, oo, and a bouncy castle, preferably one filled with plastic balls..."
"Uh, Pinkie? We really don't need-..."
"...and an arts-and-crafts center for the foals. Maybe a piñata; I know a guy who knows a guy that can make custom piñatas at affordable rates. Heh, that's a funny word. Piñata, piñata, piñata! Now, we need to discuss games and activities..."
"Can you hear me?" I asked, but again, I received no response. "Hello?"
"...like a karaoke station, which is always a welcome addition to any party setting. Musical chairs is a classic but I haven't done that since the Bulk Biceps Thumb Tack Incident, so please don't ask. Pin the Tail on the Donkey could work..."
I shared a glance with both Fluttershy and Angel, who both shrugged.
Oh well. I suppose another unnecessary party wouldn't hurt.
~*~
I slipped out while Pinkie and Fluttershy were talking, though the former didn't notice as she was preoccupied by her party-planning, while the latter was forced to stay and endure her friend's prattle. I felt a tiny bit bad leaving Mother to suffer from the Pink One's clap-trap alone but then I remembered that Angel was with her, so the feeling soon diminished. Seriously, all joking aside, it might've been, shall we say, selfish of me to leave like that but they were friends and Fluttershy was used to Pinkie's jabbering and didn't appear to mind it. The last thing that I heard was them both agreeing to postpone the event for another time, as to properly align with everypony else's schedules, a good move in my opinion. I guess I will have to gorge myself on sugary confections another time.
Seeing as how the two's conversation will no doubt take a while, I figured there'd be no harm if I went for a quick sprint through White Tail Woods, depositing my CMC cape inside of my doghouse before heading out. I was a tad bored and could use the exercise, the physical pains of Twilight's earlier training long forgotten. I started out with a light jog, getting my muscles acclimated to working once again. Once it became evident that everything was moving just fine, I increased my speed and let out a delighted whoop at that familiar rush. This right here, this excitement of running with the wind in my fur and blood pumping in my ears was freedom.
In my previous life, I was little more than a slave, both to the Æsir and to Fate so having the luxury of choice was one that I prized above all else.
Even bacon and belly rubs.
White Tail Woods soon came into view and I rushed towards it with reckless abandon. I descended deeper into the woods, recalling my previous excursion and the successful meal that came with it. The phantom taste of fresh blood and deer meat got my blood pumping and while I wasn't hungry at the moment, I decided I could revisit my hunting skills while I was at it. Don't mistake me; it's not as though I'd kill something and waste the meat by not even eating it. I simply wish to practice by chasing a prey animal and, when I feel as though I've spent enough physical exertion, I will let it go free and be on my merry way. I'm not a sadist, after all.
Actually, while I was at it, I could practice that energy construct thing Twilight was teaching me.
You can only fall so many times before you start to air-walk, am I right?
I paused and sniffed. There was a strong, damp-smelling musk floating on the breeze and I decided to follow it. Creeping through the forest, practically dragging myself along my belly, I soon came to a stop behind an intersecting pair of mulberry bushes and peer through the foliage. A lone raccoon had its back turned to me, picking apart the meat of a dead duck that, judging by the wounds to its neck and chest, was inflicted by a fox. Whatever happened to the duck's vulpine killer, I cannot say. Perhaps it'd been frightened off by another predator or chased by a fellow fox looking for an easy meal.
Doesn't matter; I'd found my prey.
EAT...EAT...EAT...
Shut up.
CHASE...CHASE...CHASE...
Good.
With a practice pounce, I threw myself at the raccoon, the ring-tailed opportunist letting out a shriek and making a break for it. Or at the very least, attempting to do so, aiming to claim sanctuary in the nearest tree. I, however, had already foreseen this, jumping over him and landing with a sharp swerve, cutting off his escape. When I didn't move, the raccoon decided to take advantage of my "hesitation" and scramble into a speedy four-legged run, again, targeting another tree-trunk. He was no doubt ready for a repeat performance, so I instead leapt from side-to-side in a kind of hopping serpentine maneuver, nearly trampling the raccoon every time he tried to evade me.
Purposefully, I would hang back, just to allow him the vaguest of hopes that he'd get away before swiftly closing the distance. Every now and then, I snapped my teeth and caught the hairs at the very end of his tail, giving him a tiny tug backward just to remind him that I was still there. Our chase commenced, neither side winning, or so I'd led him to believe. It wasn't long before my true plan had come to fruition and we'd arrived in a small field. Now, his chances of escape were even slimmer than before now that I'd completely eliminated trees from the equation.
You might be asking yourself, "Why not just use telekinesis?"
The answer: because that'd be too easy.
I want a challenge, not a charity.
Suddenly, I spun in a half-turn and flung my right hind-leg out, knocking the raccoon off of his feet and sending him tumbling across the grass. Righting myself, I caught the raccoon in mid-bounce with my jaws and deposited him back onto the ground, one paw pressed down onto his heaving chest. Accepting his fate, he curled his limbs up around my foreleg and shut his eyes.
"Relax, I'm not going to eat you."
The raccoon opened his eyes.
"Wait...what?!"
I removed my paw and took four steps back.
"That was just practice," I elaborated. "You're free to go."
Eyeing me suspiciously, the raccoon slowly rolled over and stood up on his hind-legs.
"You're serious...aren't you?"
"Very," I confirmed. "Have a nice day."
For the longest time, we stared at one another before the raccoon cautiously skirted past me and disappeared back the way we came, very confused but alive and whole. I chuckled to myself and let out a series of pants. So far, I was having a gay old time and quite proud of myself for the latest "hunt". No doubt the raccoon will be sharing this quite fanciful-sounding tale with his buddies later on. Imagine the looks on their faces when he recounts today's events!
Well, once I make this a regular habit, many animals will come to know of the strange wolf who chases but doesn't kill. Oh, I may kill from time to time but because of Princess Luna's delicious gift, I won't be needing to rip anything living to shreds for a while. Then again, should I keep hunting wild game, especially since I have those like Mother giving me food? Maybe not, but hunting is in my DNA, a vital aspect to my biology as a wolf and identity as a proud hunter. It's not something that can easily be overcome or rewritten. As sentient as I am, I still feel that primal tug to chase and devour.
Alright, enough philosophy. Time to try this energy construct-thing out.
After a sufficient rest period, I traveled once more into the woods in order to find a more private and secluded area where I wouldn't be disturbed. After nine minutes of searching, I found the perfect spot: a small clearing surrounded by a dense thicket of closely-neighboring trees, each one about two to three feet in diameter. A small rocky ledge hung over the clearing on one side, a naturally-occurring cave carved into it and topped by a warped old birch tree, its gnarled claw-like roots wildly scrapping into the rock-face. A series of large, moss-infested stones littered the ground in pairings, almost as if collected and arranged by mortal hands. Apart from the occasional bird-tweet or insect-chirp, no sound permeated the clearing and it was just how I liked it.
I jumped slightly when a black shape swooped over my head and landed on an overhanging branch. The raven stared down at me and croaked, its large brown eyes flashing in the dim sunlight piercing the tree-tops. A second raven joined it on the same branch and the two began rattling to one another in their accursed bird-tongue. For whatever reason, I've always found it difficult to understand raven-speak, excluding the tongues used by the Dynamic Dunderheads known as Huginn and Muninn. In their case, I'd say it was mystical tampering via their master Odin, as they, like him, were magically omnilingual and could thus speak and understand any languages they came across.
"What? What...do...you...want?"
"KRAA!"
The pair immediately took off, engaging in a spinning figure-eight aerial maneuver before shooting out past the treetops and vanishing from sight. Good riddance, I say.
Breathing in and out, I raised a paw and activated my aura, allowing the magic to surge and filling the air with the scent of freshly-diced pepper. Holding my right foreleg level out in front of me, I concentrated deeply, envisioning a disk appearing beneath my toes. The empty space cracked and popped, and for a few seconds, I could interpret the outline of a vaguely circular shape flickering in and out of existence. I focused harder, fiercely willing the disk to appear. However, no matter how hard I tried, the damn thing stubbornly refused to materialize! Not even a little!
A disk...I am making a disk...
Again, close but no cigar.
...That's how that saying goes, right?
Two minutes. Five minutes. Fourteen minutes. Still zip, zilch, goose-egg, nothing!
At the twenty-five minute mark, I was ready to give up when a near-transparent emerald hoop flashed beneath my paw and for a nerve-wracking moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, it finally stabilized.
"Yes! Thank Faust!"
Something changed in the air, enough to break my concentration and cause my body to go rigid. Dissolving my magic, I raised my head and sniffed, detecting a new scent that caused my ears to swivel and my teeth to chatter. It definitely belonged to something big, something predatory and all too familiar. I sniffed again. Yes, definitely a predator, and a fellow canine if I wasn't mistaken...and I wasn't. You can fool a wolf's eyes, but you can't fool a wolf's nose.
A spicy, almost lemony musk permeated my nostrils and I audibly growled.
It was similar to my own. The scent of a wolf.
Something burst out of the woods at my left rear and I spun to confront the intruder, raising my hackles and bearing my fangs at the unwelcome newcomer. Just as I'd deduced, it was another male wolf, this one a little smaller than me but no less deadly, his form slimmer but toned and his thick fur was as white as snow, making him noticeably stand out from the browns and greens of the forest. How he'd managed to get so close without me spotting him baffled me, his odor remaining undetected until he was only a couple of feet away. This led me to wonder if I'd somehow missed his presence earlier. Was this stranger watching me and if so, for how long?
One burning blue eye narrowed at me, the empty right eye socket covered in dark grayish-pink flesh that extended above his brow and towards his scalp. Judging by the crevices in the scar tissue, his disfigurement was the result of a fight, and a pretty nasty one at that, involving either teeth or claws. If this was what he looked like, I dare not imagine the state his opponent is in. Any creature that lives with such injuries wouldn't still be here if their attacker was too.
Neither one of us made a move, merely snarling at the other so I figured he wasn't here to pick a fight.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
The white wolf stopped growling but remained in an aggressive stance.
"I am called 'Way-Finder,'" he stated levelly, albeit with an undertone of wariness. "And you are?"
"Bog-Dweller," I responded, using a more naturally-sounding wolf-name.
The white wolf, Way-Finder, peered at me suspiciously and with good reason. "And why are you in my territory, Bog-Dweller?"
I merely blinked. "'Your territory'? I haven't detected your scent until just now."
Way-Finder relaxed somewhat, though continued to watch me carefully. "Indeed? I could've sworn that I marked this place as soon as I moved in. I must be getting forgetful in my old age."
Now that he mentioned it, Way-Finder did seem to be getting on in years. There was a slight hitch in his left hind-leg and he would twitch every now and then, as if experiencing a sudden spine-tingle. His limbs were also trembling slightly, though it wasn't that evident until I began to really pay attention. I soon found myself calming down and dropped my guard.
"My apologies then, Way-Finder," I said respectfully. "I am new to this part of the woods."
"It's quite alright," he replied in kind, giving a little laugh. "Still, I didn't expect to find another of my kin around here. From what I was told, no wolves have been seen in this area for thirty-thousand moons."
Right, initially, the settlers that founded Ponyville had a bit of a wolf problem and began hunting them to protect their young and livestock. However, they got a little too eager and eventually, the few survivors managed to flee. As a result, Ponyville, as well as the surrounding areas, have been wolf-free ever since. Apparently, Equestrian zoologists have been debating back and forth as to whether or not to reintroduce wolves back into these lands. Personally, I'm all for that, though I am obviously biased in that regard and have no real grasp as to the larger ramifications of such a conclusion.
"I'm the exception. I arrived a few months back."
Following my example, Way-Finder's posture became friendlier and he soon eased himself into a sitting position with a groan, no doubt a difficult task for someone of his age.
"That is good to know. I came here for peace and quiet but it does my heart well to know that I have one of my own living nearby. Tell me, do you dwell in these woods as well?"
I didn't know what the overall situation was with pony-wolf relations so I hesitated. What do I say, exactly? Would he be offended or dismayed? Or, conversely, he's had little to no interaction with the dominant species of Equus and thus has no frame of reference?
"No...I live near the nearby pony settlement."
Way-Finder considered this with a slight head dip.
"I see. Perhaps the ponies wouldn't take much umbrage with one of us living so close. Obviously, since you're still here."
Whew!
"Nope, so far, so good," I responded a little too eagerly. "I still have my pelt, thankfully."
"Praise be to Aragh," Way-Finder concluded, giving a forward head-shake and skimming his muzzle with a paw. "The swift and strong, the best of wolves."
In all of my time here, I'd never once heard of this "Aragh" before. Was he an ancestor-deity to Way-Finder's original pack or was he the god of all Equestrian wolves? I could ask Mother if she knew, considering her ability to speak to animals, or maybe the bibliophilic shut-in Twilight would have an inkling as to lupine religious beliefs. Preferring to err on the side of caution, I settled on the major god theory and mimicked Way-Finder's words, finishing with his paw-to-muzzle gesture.
"So tell me, Bog-Dweller, why did you not kill the raccoon?"
So he had been watching! But...how?
"It was for practice," I told him. "To keep myself fit, as well as for enjoyment."
Way-Finder's single brow furrowed. "You chase small animals so that you may stay lean...and for entertainment?"
I began to internally panic, until Way-Finder's confusion faded.
"That would make sense. You are alone and thus have no pack-mates to play with. Still, I would advise against being too merciful, especially towards prey. They might mistake it for weakness and learn to fear you less."
Way-Finder leaned forward. "Know this, Tender Wolf: never place restraints on yourself. You are what you are, and that is a strong and swift hunter, a child of the North Wind and the Earthen Bride. Do not fear your power, nor be haughty about it. Such thoughts are a disease and will travel to the rest of your body, weakening you and slowing your journey."
"I will heed your words," I told him, before adding: "Elder Wolf."
This was the first time I'd conversed with a fellow wolf in ages and elected to make the most of it.
"Could you, maybe, tell me a good Aragh tale, Elder Wolf?"
Way-Finder chuckled warmly. "It would be my honor, Tender Wolf."
Licking his lips, the white wolf began:
"On a spring morning, Aragh was hunting sandmirks when he encountered the dragon Gorbash, whose mate had been captured by two rival male dragons..."