Chapter 8 - Holding out for a hero
Applejack’s eyes flew wide as they met mine. She looked utterly terrified, mouth agape and pupils small as pinpricks. To say she was worried out of her coat would be an understatement.
“Applebloom, Granny!” were the only words to leave her mouth before she darted off in the direction of the cry.
My legs sprang into action and I followed her, nowhere near keeping pace but at an impressive speed nonetheless. Apple trees zoomed passed on my sprint through the orchard, the hues of red, green and brown becoming one great blur. I didn’t think, I just ran. I have no idea why I reacted this way - I had no reason to - yet, I did. And that was that.
It’s difficult to place a timeframe on how long we ran for. On the one hand, the acres are pretty big and if I hadn’t been following AJ I definitely would have gotten lost. On the other hand, we were running quite quickly and Applejack was bound to have known the fastest route to reach the source of the disturbance.
Regardless, we ran. And we kept on going until we were panting with every step. Actually Applejack was in top physical condition and was hardly breaking a sweat; I was the one who was panting. What can I say, I was a terrible runner.
The canopy formed by the apple trees blocked out most of the light, leaving us in shadow bar a few rays that penetrated through the mass of branches above. Thus it was easy to tell when we were closing in on a clearing because of how damn bright it was.
Applejack got there first, quickly followed by myself bursting through the treeline. What I saw made me tremble.
Big Mac was lying on his side, a small pool of shining crimson leaking from his body. His normally red coat was stained a darker tone and matted with his blood as life seeped out of his body. I looked upon his form in search of the wound to find three surprisingly light gashes on his side and a bite mark on his left hind leg. Surprisingly most of the blood was coming from his leg, leading me to believe an artery had been nicked by the bite.
Next to him crouched Applebloom, tears pouring from wavering eyes. Distraught and terrified, she turned to face us with a look on her face like no other. It was the look of a child begging for help. She opened her mouth but no words left her mouth, her throat visibly constricting as she silently cried out. For all I know she really did cry and I just didn’t hear it, being lost in the moment. Usually when that term is used it denotes joy like no other.
Here, it doesn’t.
The wind was still and all was silent, bar the soft growling of some then-unnoticed predator. There were quite a few of them, about eight or so, spread around the seeding plains. They weren’t hiding - I just hadn’t noticed them due to my focus on the unmoving body of Big Mac, distracting me from the greater picture at hand.
I widened my gaze, opening up to all of the sights in front of me in order to better observe Big Mac’s assailants. Each of was about a head shorter than myself, with leaves for eyebrows and breath like no other. In a bad way. A really bad way.
“Timberwolves!” Applejack shouted, alarmed by the presence of the wooden canids in question. Now Granny Smith may have been old and deaf, but when she heard this flew out of the house with the speed of a startled gazelle, all the while clanging assorted pots and pans.
“Git outta here ya darned varmints, ya mangy beasts!” shouted the elderly mare, content on making quite a ruckus. She hollered and clamoured to try and scare the wolves away but it was to no avail. If anything it seemed to make them angrier, assuming their low growls were any indication.
The timberwolves held their ground and didn’t retreat an inch. Granny Smith stopped her cacophony, seeing that they refused to budge, and in the ensuing quiet I heard Applebloom sobbing next to Big Mac’s incapacitated form. She was completely out of it, oblivious to the danger surrounding her as she mourned her elder brother.
He wasn’t even dead… yet. While he was barely breathing and certainly not conscious, he was certainly still alive, no doubt about it. That’s not to say he’d survive without help - he was in dire need of medical attention
“Wah aren’t they runnin’? That racket’s always scares them off before!” Applejack was even more panicked than before, her brow covered in sweat and her legs shaking. I was still trembling, urging my body to stop shaking. It was pointless - my body didn’t want to listen to me.
Shit I thought, undecided on what to do in the situation
Okay, there’s got to be some way out of this, some way we can all make it out alive.
Just go out and fight them. It’s the right thing to do and they’ll think you’re a hero!
Hardy fucking har. Yes, It may the ‘right’ thing and the ‘heroic’ thing to do, but it’ll also get me killed and I don’t feel like dying.
Fight.
The hell!? You’re meant to be the logical one! How on earth did you come to that conclusion!?
If you run, they’ll chase you down and kill you - you’re too slow and Applejack wouldn’t be able to hold them off. However, if you were to act as a distraction and you simply kept them at bay while Applejack ran and got help from Twilight and the others… You needn’t incapacitate them; merely stall them long enough for help to arrive. Quite frankly, that is the only course of action you can take that will lead to your continued existence.
Well there’s no arguing with that kind of logic... Well why not? I can handle a few mutts… that can reanimate themselves… AJ had better be a fast runner.
“Applejack, I’m going to distract those wolves using various degrees of violence, a universal language that you are not well versed in. While I’m doing that I want you to run to Twilight and tell her what’s happened. Get her to teleport to Fluttershy then bring all three of you here. Understood?”
Applejack looked at me with an expression of disbelief and bewilderment, eyebrows high and mouth agape. “Uh huh,” was the only vocal response she gave, at first, before she added, “ but wut about Applebloom?”
I have no idea why, but it was almost hard for me to say this,
“Sorry, but she can’t go with you - she’ll slow you down too much. Don’t worry though,” my features hardened, showing my resolution to be absolute, “I won’t let any harm come to her.”
Good Lord when did I get so damn corny? And since when did I care.
Since you were, oh, I don’t know, human? For all of your attempts to avoid them, emotions -however corny- still exist in you. I am wholly guided by emotion and also a part of you, so naturally you’re going to get sentimental, if only on occasion.
For a voice in my head who’s meant to act all irrational you do seem to enjoy your deductive reasoning.
Applejack stared at me blankly for a second, looked over to her sister in earnest, then returned to gaze deep into my eyes.
“You’d better keep her safe, ya hear me?”
She turned away and began galloping towards Ponyville at a breakneck pace, easily matching that of Rainbow Dash were she on the ground. I turned back to face my multiple opponents who were now ignoring Applebloom, Big Mac and Granny Smith in lieu of their new target: me.
My trembling continued, quaking where I stood. This was not out of fear however, when scared I would usually (but not always) freeze up, completely paralysed. It’s utterly counterproductive really - if I need to run or fight, being unable to move is hardly useful. No, this trembling was not out of fear. If anything it was the complete opposite. A feeling I hadn’t felt or had at least suppressed for quite a while, a feeling like no other.
Bloodlust.
I was shaking in anticipation. And I hated it. What kind of disgusting monster enjoys pummeling their enemies to a bloody pulp, dominating all those who stand before them until they are reduced to feeble, kneeling wrecks?
Evidently I do, I mused to myself. Regardless, my self-hatred would have to wait for a while.
I’m not actually sure of what possessed me to do this, but I decided to forget about stance, technique, tactics and just general common sense. I charged forwards and tackled the first wolf to the ground, straddling and pinning it on the soft earth.
Throwing my left fist as hard as I could into the jaw of the beast, I expected a crack or dislocation. Instead, to my surprise, the timberwolf’s head flew clean off and rolled along the ground. The body of the wolf below my collapsed and separated into multiple blocks of wood, each individual component moved by some unknown force. Surrounded by a dark, shroud-like aura, the bits of tree began reforming into the shape of a wolf about five metres in front of me.
Well, I’m fucked.
The rest of the pack assembled around its newly constructed brother, surrounding me in a semi-circle of sentient pine and oak. I got back to my feet and observed my situation
There are multiple opponents that can reanimate themselves if destroyed. They‘re persistent pack hunters, so they probably use flanking manoeuvres and work off attrition, wearing me down until I can’t fight. In terms of endurance they most probably outclass me, so they’ll get tired long time they’ve eliminated me.
Their tactics will be predictable: keep me guessing which direction they’ll come from and use little attacks as diversions to distract me from their killing blow. Or, they’ll just wait till I exhaust myself and become easy pickings.
The wolves snarled loudly and spread out, expanding their ranks. They began to advance, taking small and patient steps. They could afford to wait. My plan was reliant on them waiting so I was content to let them take as long as they wanted, using the time to try and come up with some way to fight them effectively.
Think! Okay, they can reform themselves but there must be a part of them that is required for that. Some sort of lynchpin, a part required to manipulate the rest of their body relative to it…
The pressure from the upcoming confrontation was immense, at first hindering my ability to think logically. I was on the verge of breaking down and panicking when I mentally slapped myself, forcing me to focus on the task at hand.
I turned instead to scrutinising every inch of the wolves before me, trying to absorb every detail humanly possible. Various types of wood composed their form, from birch to maple and oak to ebony. I found that curious, seeing as how they all grew in different places but then again, these were wolves made of wood that inhabited a magical forest in a world of talking ponies.
While the whole pack was fundamentally similar in design, each individual wolf was composed of varying proportions of each wood and they were all made up of different shapes. Some wolves had larger claws while others had more protruding canines, though all wolves had the same crimson red eyes.
As much as I examined the composition of the bizarre creatures for a recurring weak point, I couldn’t find anything resembling what I needed. It occurred to me that the heart/brain thing of a timberwolf wouldn’t be out for show, just as it isn’t on any other animal. Thus it would obviously be inside the wolf itself, which, having knocked one apart a short while ago, I deduced were almost completely hollow.
My train of thought was interrupted by a wolf charging at me from the right. It took only a second or two for it close in before pouncing at me. The clunky, brown canid sailed through the air for a moment before I struck it hard in the sternum, a hollow thud resounding through its form.
It didn’t immediately break apart when I hit it, instead separating when it collided on the ground. The area echoed with the clonking sound of wood hitting wood, the components of the timberwolf splaying across the floor.
I took the chance to observe its reconstruction process and thankfully I wasn’t attacked while doing so.
The first part to move was a small pine-cone like piece that wasn’t normally visible. It rolled away from me and launched itself into the air. As it hovered in place the rest of the parts were covered in the same dark, shadowy aura and the wolf began to reform and take shape.
Just as the reconstruction was complete another wolf, this time from the left of the pack, attempted to charge me just like its brethren had before. This time I pushed it away with a thrust from my left hand followed by a right hook to the base of its neck.
This time the wolf broke apart when my hook connected, scattering chunks of timberwolf in every direction. Again, a small pine-cone like component rolled then hovered, before the rest of the parts were attracted to it and rebuilt itself back into a wolf.
Another wolf did the same, then another, then another. The process repeated itself: a wolf charges, I strike, the wolf breaks apart then reforms, another wolf attacks, and so on. I started to think this was how they planned to fight - taking a long time to exhaust me while maximising their safety. I had no problems with this plan - if I paced myself it would take a time for me to get really tired, plenty long enough for help to arrive.
I also learned a couple of spots that would easily dismantle a timberwolf: the neck and solar plexus being prime examples. Any significant force would smash them apart, but to maximise efficiency I aimed for said points. Seeing as how they aren’t incapacitated by pain and long term injury is near non-existent for them (I broke a few branches making up a wolf and it just levitated more from the apple trees, much to the frustration of Granny Smith), using every trick at my disposal was crucial.
Time works differently when you fight. Time passes like a blur yet takes forever to move on, leaving one quite confused as to how long has passed. It had felt like forever since Applejack had left to get Twilight, yet it had probably only been a couple of minutes at the most.
I wondered how long the timberwolves would continue their monotonous, repetitive tactics and as if the heavens headed my foolish pleas for more excitement, the pack stepped up their game. This time three wolves rushed me at once from all sides, taking me by surprise.
I barged into the centre wolf, knocking it to the ground, before turning and smashing into my nest adversary with my elbow. While engaging its partners in crime, the third of the trio leaped up and latched itself onto my back. I tried to shake it off with little result, eventually resorting to flinging my back to the ground in an attempt to crush the wolf.
My tactic worked, the wolf cushioning my fall and dismantling in the process. But unlike before I heard a howl of discomfort. The sound that emanated from the beast below me was a primitive cry like no other, not of desperation or need of help but of pain.
I rolled off the former body and got to my feet immediately, while the timberwolf’s remains, well, remained. It made no attempt to reconstruct itself, nor did the pine-cone like heart appear. Actually, the timber-heart was there, but it was lacking its normal shape and mysterious aura. As I examined t I came to the conclusion it had been crushed to minute fragments under my (not so immense) weight.
So you can keep them down for good… now to repeat the process. I hope Fluttershy doesn't mind too much about me killing them but in this situation I don’t have much else of a choice.
An ear-splitting howl filled the air, forcing me to cover my ears for fear of losing my hearing. Looking across at the rest of the pack I saw my previous two opponents reforming while the rest of the pack let lose their feelings audibly. The previous cry had been of corporeal pain, but this… this too was a cry of pain yet it was so much more.
It was a cry of pain that any sapient creature could recognise. It was a cry of hate and anguish and... grief! They were heartbroken by the death of their comrade and it showed was audible in their howling, a symphony of bereaved emotion made audible.
The wolves fell silent and for a while made no outward signs of emotion, aggressive or otherwise. On the contrary, they were completely passive yet seemed open to conversation. I decided to take a chance and tried to talk them out of continuing the fight.
As much as part of me begged for more more I knew that with my terrible endurance I wouldn’t be able to hold out for Twilight for much longer and if they all attacked me at once I’d be done for.
I was an offensive fighter, used to ending things quickly, one way or the other. Long term, defensive combat was a massive weak point on my part and it wouldn’t have a happy ending. For me, at least.
“If you leave now and stop this violence I will not pursue you. We won’t be an easy meal and we certainly won’t be worth it - you can find a better meal in the Everfree for half the effort.”
They must have seen through my bluff as a few seconds later a low snarl emanated from what I believe was the pack alpha. Three of the pack broke themselves down, falling to the ground piece by piece, before collectively reassembling themselves into a single being. The three wolves’ parts clunked together as the beast grew in size, eventually reaching its apex about half a metre taller than my own height.
I didn’t need a translator to tell me that their response was along the lines of ‘fuck no’.
I stood still, hoping they’d somehow, miraculously change their mind.
They didn't. They just charged.