//------------------------------// // Wolf's Tale of the Mistress of the Hunt [Adventure] // Story: Legends of the Shady Trough // by _No_One_Remains_ //------------------------------// I cringed as the Pegasus downed his preferred concoction. Just the thought of drinking something so mismatched sent my stomach twisting in knots. I mean, I like wine as much as the next guy, but lemon’s just not something you add! But, as long as he paid, it wasn’t my decision to make. Still, I sometimes wondered if the guy even had taste buds… “Now, sit back and pay attention as I tell you a tale that’s been passed down by my pack for thousands of years!” The teal highlights in his mane added a mysterious flair to his voice as he waved a hoof around the crowd. The fact that he was wearing his shades didn’t help any, either. The whole bar fell silent; an air of curiosity washed over us. We’d heard his stories of being raised by wolves, and we knew he could speak in tongues, but we’d never imagined that the wolves themselves would have had legends. … Long ago, long before the establishment of present-day Equestria, longer still than even the pony racial feud that threatened to swallow the world in eternal winter at the hooves of the Windigos, deep within the mountains of the Arctic North, there existed a clan of territorial and domineering wolves. The clan was of the highest honor, holding more power than every other in the area. At the head of the clan sat a dire wolf, who led her brethren with utmost authority. No other wolf dared challenge her title or leave her protection. For the dire wolf, who called herself Nightstalker, was the only thing that guided her people from the dangers of the Arctic North. Timberwolves, Diamond Dogs, and even the snow itself all wanted to devour the wolves and remove them from the world entirely. Nightstalker led her people to their current fortress, and guided them to the creation of a wolf-driven society. Because of her leadership, no wolf within the Arctic North dared stand against her laws. But she was not the sole provider for her people. She had intelligence greater than all other wolves in her clan, but she hadn’t the strength to support all those she ruled. She allowed her people to hunt in the wild under the supervision of their greatest warrior. The warrior she appointed as the brawn of her people was the only creature that allowed for their survival in their fortress. Against all those that attempted to harm the wolves, another dire wolf defended them. She was given the title of Summer, as her skills proved efficient in the starkness of winter. Her raging fire of strength proved to burn too fierce for her opponents to touch. In many of battles she handled her own, defeated opponents plenty to count for a dozen of her brethren. Summer’s fire reigned over everything that threatened her, even the winter itself. She never faltered in battle, and never once gave up a fight under the bleakest of conditions. She never lost a battle. She never failed. With their combined attributes, Nightstalker and Summer reigned over the wolves for centuries, until the fateful year when the ponies of the south began to clash in anger and hatred. The winter that threatened to swallow the world began with the Arctic North, the Windigos forming from the very essence of the cruel snow. To reach the world of harmony, the beasts needed to devour the north. To do so meant to swallow the wolves that resided within the north. To harm the wolves was an act unacceptable by Summer. Though her master and brethren deigned it necessary to flee, she had no intentions of allowing her home to be lost to a foreign magic. Not wanting to provoke the Windigos, Nightstalker refused to allow her people to hunt them. Her resolve to flee was met with opposition for the first time in her entire reign. Some wanted to fight for their home. Others thought it best to leave. The ancient and powerful clan of the wolves was split, Summer guiding the hunters and Nighstalker the cowards. Summer’s clan headed into the barren wastes of the wintry land, each one with the intention of stopping the Windigos from taking their homes even at the cost of death. Nightstalker’s clan fled south into the spring, many of which meeting their ends at the fangs of the Timberwolves and claws of the Diamond Dogs. Those that survived are said to have taken refuge in the forests of the would-be Equestria. Summer led her brethren into the heart of the Windigos’ realm. There they fought the spiritual beasts, wanting nothing more than to defend their home and keep from being defeated in shame. Casualties mounted in favor of the Windigos, the wolves holding no power over the supernatural magic of the wintry monsters. After days of combat, Summer’s clan was all but extinct. Only a few wolves remained, with Summer standing her ground against the hatred-fueled energy of the Windigo army. The beasts had long since reached the south, cursing the ponies as they had cursed the world. Yet even in the face of her own failure, Summer refused to surrender to their will. She fought with fang and claw until her spirit refused to continue. And there, in the midst of the enemy’s battlements, she perished. She died in that foreign arena, though her resolve carried to her surviving wolves, who in turn continued to fight until the bitter end. It is said that the wind and winter of the Windigos carried her story south. It carried her tale of endless bravery and utter determination to her abandoning brethren, who vowed to carry her legacy until the end of time. Within the tongue of the wolves there is a sacred word only uttered in honor of Summer. To say it without a blessing is blasphemy, as her honor managed to save her cowardly brothers without so much as an offer of praise. Everything she gave was for free, with no foreseeable compensation. Her honor lives within all the wolves that roam the world. Her honor lives within the wolves that die for their brothers. She is known simply as the Mistress of the Hunt. All those that hunt for survival are blessed by her spirit. All those that hunt for cruelty are cursed by her heart. Her sacrifices lead the wolves. Always. … For the first time in many years, I let out an audible gasp of awe. The somber way that Wolf ended his tale left me wondering just how much of it was truth and how much was myth. The rest of the crowd shared my amazement, all except for Miss Violet, who seemed as disinterested as a violinist learning how to play drums. She made her boredom known to us all with a simple, “Shall we carry on then?” I could see in her eyes that Lamia wanted to slit the mule’s throat. Honestly, I kind of wanted to, too. As if sensing my growing annoyance, Conrideas scoffed, “Very good Wolf, but there are a few plot holes you dug!” “Yeah! For instance, you said that Nightstalker guided her people to their fortress, but then you say that Summer was the real guardian!” Lavender Wave chimed in, her ability to analyze any type of literature shining in the presence of the tale. Wolf raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “Well, yeah, what’s wrong with that?” Plot Twist cleared his throat loud enough for everypony to hear. “If Summer was the true protector of her people, why would Nightstalker be the leader? I thought wolves acted in packs following an alpha?” “I dunno, that’s just how the legend goes.” Wolf shrugged his shoulders and trotted offstage, having finished successfully telling his tale. Before the others could continue their critiquing, I blurted out, “So who’s the next victim of our little train wreck?” The members of the crowd looked around nervously, none too certain they could top either Caitiff or Wolf’s tales. Minutes passed as the silence dragged on, interrupted only by the occasional roar of thunder from the growing storm. It wasn’t until a particularly loud roar sent Sir Ox’s mug crashing to the floor when somepony decided to tell their tale. The next on the list for a free mug of beer and the whole bar’s attention was none other than… Monochrome… Celestia help us all…