Macintosh found himself wandering east from the hut, due to the land sloping gently downwards. If he was lucky, he'd find the flower Zecora asked for in no time at all, and be back home before dinner got cold. The woods pressed upon him from all directions, trees in garish, jagged shapes, and bushes seeming to house unimaginable evil, but he steeled his resolve, for Fluttershy and Zecora's sake, and carried on.
He traveled for a bit, the woods surprisingly thinning out the farther he went. The path lead toward the top of a rocky cliff, and the evening light that bathed the area was a welcome sight to the red stallion after the dense and unsettling part of the forest he had spent most of his day in. The giant of a pony paused at the cliff's edge, scanning the lay of the land.
Below, trees stretched far, nearly blanketing the horizon, save for a large river that cut into the forest and snaked past his vision. Farther east still, the ruins of what appeared to be a large building barely peaked out of the dense woods. Something caught his eye as he overlooked the scene. There was a small clearing in the lower forests, closer than the ruins and river. It was tinted with a few pinpricks of red in an otherwise green, lush field. He wouldn't say he was the smartest pony, but he figured that area must be one of the places where Zecora had expected him to find that dang flower.
As Mac examined the sides of the cliff, he looked for an easy route down. The stallion couldn't find a real path downward from his vantage point, so his only choice was either backtrack to try and find an easier way to the ground, or risk it, and slide down the sloped rocky terrain. As he pondered the choice, a low, ominous growl sounded from behind him. For a moment he tensed, then rolled his eyes in exasperation as he turned his head slightly. Sure enough, a timberwolf was behind him, the creature's horrific mishmash of wood and branches over muscle and powerful, bone snapping dagger teeth caused Macintosh to swallow nervously.
Celestia forbid I ever get a lucky break.
With a world weary sigh, Macintosh chose the best course of action he could against such a beast: he took a step forward off the cliff, and let his body go limp.
He fell a good fifteen feet and hit the stones hard, his large body bouncing repeatedly against the fast moving ground. Every hit, the red stallion gave a pained grunt, and halfway down, he felt the wind rush out of him when a large rock slammed into his ribs. He finally hit flat ground with another pained thud, and rose, panting and bruised. He gave a look upward, daring the timberwolf to follow. From above, the monster watched the red stallion, licking its lips. After a moment though, the wolf seemed to lose interest and departed.
Macintosh grew weak at the sudden loss of adrenaline in his system, and he fell back down to his knees.
"Too early to celebrate, boy," Mac spoke to himself, trying to rise. "Ya still gotta help Zecora." He managed to stand, and took a step forward, before wincing. His right back leg hurt somethin' fierce; he must have twisted it during the fall.
"I ain't gonna be worth a damn tomorrow," The red stallion muttered with a dejected sigh. He moved forward with purpose, deeper into the woods.
---
It was farther than he expected, the field. It took him the better part of half an hour before he stumbled into the clearing. One thing he had to give credit for though: It was pretty. The grass seemed to dance and sway from the gentle breeze that blew across. It reminded him of a large body of water, all of the plants flowing in one grand, smooth motion. He could see several flowers with red petals and a blue stigma, and gave a relieved sigh. Zecora would be pleased.
Before he could get to gathering a few for her, he heard a noise that gave his worn and tired body comfort. The sound of water gently lapping against an unseen shore. The farmer gave a tilt of his head, pondering where the noise came from as he walked around the field a bit, passing by a large rock. He nearly stumbled into the answer.
There was a large crevice, about three feet wide, and about twenty feet deep, that was all but hidden in the grass. He was lucky he didn't fall in and snap his neck, due to how camouflaged it was until he was right up on it. Mac bent down and squinted his eyes. At the bottom of the crevice, he could see a narrow stream delicately moving across a few rocks that peaked out of the water. Macintosh licked his dry lips. He was thirsty after the fall, and, honestly, a little curious about the cave.
When he was a young colt, he went exploring with his friend Caramel on more than one occasion. In fact, seeing the hole reminded him of a time when they went spelunking in a cave located at Whitetail Wood. Sure, they found no real treasure, despite Caramel's adamant belief that there was one, but Macintosh still had fun, and appreciated the natural beauty of the rocks. If he hadn't been interested in the honest, pure work of farming, he would have been more than happy with a caving cutie mark.
The stallion chewed on his thoughts for a moment, before giving a shrug. The field seemed innocent enough compared to the woods, and if the timberwolf was coming after him, it surely would have attacked by now.
I don't see the harm in a quick peek. At least, if I can get down and back up safely.
Macintosh gave a quick check to his body. His leg had stopped hurting as much, and though he felt sore, he knew climbing a rope wouldn't be that challenging for him thanks to his developed muscles.
He reached into one of his side pouches, producing a large coil of rope. He glanced towards the nearby stone. It stood about a head and a half taller than Macintosh, so he felt it should be safe enough for his weight. Just to check though, he tried to move the stone, giving it a mighty strike with with his foreleg that echoed across the fields like a hammer hitting an anvil. It had chipped slightly, but shown no other problems on its rocky surface.
"You'll do, I reckon," Mac drawled, tying the rope into a lasso, and throwing it around the stone. After securing it, he made another loop, and stuck a foreleg into it, before backing up towards the tip of the crevice. The red stallion lowered his body gently downwards, the rope guiding his every push against the cave's wall. Within moments, he was at the bottom, his fetlock's getting soaked in the frigid water. He bent down and drank his fill, appreciating the pure taste. Afterward, he began searching the area with a childlike wonder.
The area was wider than he first expected, the crevice reminding him of a vase: a narrow neck that he saw from above, and a wider body that he was in now. From what he could see, it was almost all covered in water, with a strange, luminescent blue moss clinging to the stone walls and lighting the area. Towards one of the sides, just a few long steps away from his rope, he saw something. It was a small stone cylinder, poking out from the water. He walked closer, examining it. The object went into the ground, and strangely enough, Mac's eyes caught another, shorter cylinder just below the waterline.
Looks almost like...
He dug into the soft earth, clouding up the crystal clear water. After his large hooves cleared away a decent amount of the mud, his suspicions were confirmed. The two cylinders connected to a larger stone. Giving up subtlety, Macintosh wrapped his forelegs around the cylinders, closed his eyes, and tugged hard. The wet noises of water quickly rushing into the vacuum he caused was the only confirmation he needed to know he managed to pull it out of the muck. The farmer opened his eyes. He held the forelegs of a life sized statue of a colt with a fairly long scraggly mane and a short cropped tail. It was flat on its back, its forelegs reaching upward, as if trying to desperately grab something, and a look on its face that suggested desperation. What caught Mac's attention were the eyes. Those seemed to almost sparkle, despite their stone design. It was so lifelike, it unnerved even the calm and unassuming Macintosh.
Who says it's just 'lifelike?' For all you know boy, it could be 'life.'
It was hard to believe that a few months ago, a thought like that would have caused the farmer to snort in laughter, never crossing his mind as a serious avenue. Since Discord, however...
"Welp. Only one thing to do," the earth pony said, lifting the statue with his forelegs. "Gonna take you to Zecora, and after she tells me I'm crazy, I'mma get you checked out for any traces of magic or poison. It might foalish, but what are the odds that a regular statue would be down here?"
Using his forelegs, he tied the statue onto the rope, and once he checked that the rope wouldn't snap under the weight of him, he quickly rose. Once he had climbed to solid ground, he hoisted the statue up from the crevice effortlessly, thanks to his powerful frame. He placed it to the side and gave a look at the scene before him. The dulled red and purple of a dusk on the cusp of vanishing was the only thing that greeted him in the field, to Macintosh's relief.
"Just give me a minute. I got a job to do," Macintosh stated, though the statue offered no reply.
The red stallion gathered several of the red leaved flowers, stowing them away in his satchel, before returning to the statue, and placing it on his large back. He tied it around his waist with rope, and headed into the thick woods, unaware of dozen of eyes watching him.
---
The way back seemed longer, much longer than the earlier path he took. He tried to make it up the steep incline from earlier, but was unable to after several botched attempts, and so ventured west to find a way back up. If the woods were thick in the higher ground he was on beforehand, they were nearly choking now. Mac tried to hug close to where he thought the path was at, but was blocked off from it repeatedly due to the unnatural thickness of the forest, and now found himself veering wildly off course. Swearing under his breath, he stopped moving for a moment and glanced at the area to get his bearings.
He was still in a heavily forested area, that was obvious to him, but there was a slight peak of moonlight shining down through a gap in the trees. With that thought, Macintosh called upon the years he spent in the Colt Scouts, and came up with an idea. He glanced over to a tree that was bathed in moonlight, and examined its bark. His guess was right, and he was rewarded with moss on the tree's right side.
"Moss grows mostly on the north, 'round here. So that means..." he trailed off, before putting his hooves together in realization. "I somehow got switched 'round to the east. Glad I caught that."
A growling from behind him stopped him from celebrating. Macintosh's easygoing expression faded, to be replaced by a rarely viewed scowl.
"You just 'bout got me to the end of my rope, pardner," the red stallion said, his eyes still looking at the tree. "I'mma make you an offer: get outta here 'fore I turn, and I won't buck you to next week."
After Macintosh gave his ultimatum, he listened intently for movement behind him, counted to three, and spun around, glaring daggers at the timberwolf that was behind him. Or, rather, the dozens of timberwolves that were behind him. His earlier courage fleeing him quickly, Macintosh only had enough time to swallow nervously, before taking a step backwards, angling himself so he was traveling southwest. The wolves took one forward. Macintosh took another step back, and the timberwolves took one more towards him. Macintosh turned around, and started sprinting. The wolves followed suit.
Macintosh wasn't a pony to get frightened easily, but he had to admit as he barreled past trees in a blur of motion and his injured leg cried out in agony, that he was pretty unnerved about his odds. He was powerful, sure, and he could possibly handle a few of the abominations on his own, but the numbers they had on him were too great, he would be devoured helplessly the instant he made a mistake.
The red stallion saw a low hanging tree limb, and he rushed for it, biting it hard with his teeth, before letting go once he had ducked under and cleared the branch. It snapped back to its original location, and Mac heard the cry of an injured timberwolf. Before he could gloat, he stumbled, and slammed his shoulder into a tree. The blow to his body seemed to snap him out of his blind fear, and he quickly spotted the path he had taken to Zecora's during the earlier part of the day. Macintosh quickly scrambled up to it, clawing frantically at the dirt incline surrounding it. When he made it to the top, he started sprinting west, with the wolves close enough behind him that he could hear their ragged breathing. The stallion came to the realization that he wouldn't make it to the safety of Ponyville before they caught him, so he made a desperate dodge east on the path, towards the zebra's hut.
As he turned and tried to force his weary body onward, he felt a set of powerful jaws snap shut on his injured leg. Macintosh resisted the urge to yell. Instead, he reared up on his forelegs, and delivered an overwhelmingly powerful blow with his one good hoof. The timberwolf let go, and Macintosh heard the creature wailing in agony. The stallion gave no look behind him, afraid of what he would see. Mac limped as fast as he could while the other monsters went to their own kind to assess the damage. The pony had gotten only slightly ahead when the others came barreling towards him. Macintosh knew he wouldn't make it in time, and turned to face the creatures assaulting him. Three gave a feral cry, and lunged forward. The red stallion braced himself, covering his face with his forelegs, and hoping that they would at least be quick in ending it. A series of loud snaps and a howl of pain echoed loudly in his ears.
The assault on his body never came. He slowly opened his eyes.
Zecora, adorned in a brown cloak and wielding a staff, stood in front of him, with the unconscious bodies of three timberwolves surrounding her, and several more fleeing back into the woods. With a quick adjustment, she rested the staff in her foreleg, and pulled her cloak back, revealing her face to the red stallion.
"Macintosh, you appear to be late. Not to mention wolves flock to you like bait," she said, smiling towards the stallion, before glancing down at his wound. Her expression changed to concerned in an instant.
"That leg is bleeding at quite the pace- back to my hut Macintosh, with haste. I will make you healthy yet, I just hope I don't have a bone to set."
"N-nope. The bone's fine. I think the muscle's jus' tore up," the farmer stated, clenching his teeth. Zecora wrapped one of his forelegs around her shoulders and aided him onward. Macintosh, for his part, tried to ignore the large amount blood he had already lost, and was still losing.
After a bit of walking, the hut came into view, and Zecora spoke up. "You look a little pale, my friend. Fear not though, our travel isat an end." With a quick gesture, she ushered the giant pony inward.
"Sit down at a chair. As soon as I can, I will give you care," she ordered, nearly galloping to her medical supplies.
Macintosh complied, slowly taking off the statue he had strapped to his body, and propping it against the door. He sat quietly, resting his forelegs on a table as Angel bunny watched the two with a frown more nervous than usual. Macintosh gave a smile he hoped was reassuring to the animal.
After a moment, the orange maned pony spoke. "The medicine for Fluttershy, I-"
Zecora interrupted him as she approached, her foreleg nearly overflowing with a large wrap of gauze, a small bottle filled with a yellowed liquid, and a washcloth. "Fluttershy has nothing to fear. I recalled another remedy to treat her, and her fever's not that severe. As for delivery, that might be hard- we shouldn't go outside, not without a guard."
"If she's got a fever, then we need to get the medicine to her quick-like. Just patch me up, and I'll get to her."
"Macintosh, don't be dumb. The wolves out there could break you with a simple tug," Zecora stated, frowning at the large stallion. "I put the antiseptic on a cloth, which I will wring." She demonstrated as such, putting a healthy amount of the yellowed liquid on the washcloth, and twisting it to get rid of the excess medicine. "Sorry Mac, but this will sting."
The pain didn't really bother him, he just gave a snort of irritation, and then felt her wrapping his leg in bandages.
"That should last for a while. At least the walk is but a few miles. But for now, I suggest you rest. I'll try to make it to Fluttershy's- it's for the best," Zecora said.
"I ain't hearin' of it. I'm comin' with," the green eyed stallion argued.
"Don't be a fool, the wolves will simply turn you to gruel."
"I ain't lettin' you risk your neck by yourself," Macintosh said.
"Stubbornness runs in your clan."
"Eyup," he drawled, a hint of humor in his voice.
Zecora glanced upwards with a shake of her head. Finally, she nodded. "Very well; together we stand."
"Got one favor 'for we head out," Mac said, rising and testing his bandaged leg. When it didn't completely give out on him, he called it satisfactory, and moved over toward the door.
"Go ahead, speak. Do not be so meek."
"See this statue right here?" the red stallion questioned, tapping a hoof against it. Getting a nod from the mare, Mac continued. "Well, I think this might actually be more than just stone. A spell, or..." He trailed off, hating to explain things.
"A curse perhaps? Maybe a disease? Let me check it, Macintosh, I'll put your mind at ease."
She moved toward the ingredient shelf by her cauldron, and threw a few smaller items into the pot. She gave a single, brisk stir, and then reached into the pot with a tea spoon. She carefully carried the spoon over, and tipped the green contents onto the stone. It seemed to crackle with electricity as it dripped down the body, and the syrupy concoction turned in color to a sky blue. The zebra frowned.
"Your assumption was correct. This is a powerful curse, the strongest I've seen yet."
"So there's somepony in that stone?" Mac questioned.
Zecora gave a single nod.
"What ingredients do you need to treat somethin' like that? Once we get Fluttershy taken care of, I'll go and get 'em for you."
The striped equine looked over to the statue. "No Macintosh, this curse is too grand. Compared to its strength, my medicine is but a grain of sand," She stated, no measure of anger or sadness in her voice, just clinical acceptance of fact. "However, there may be something we can do..."
"I aim to help 'em," the red stallion confidently stated.
"Twilight Sparkle," Zecora stated. She then elaborated her train of thought, "Within her studies, perhaps she could find a way to lift the curse, tucked away in some ancient tome's verse."
"Good thinkin', Zecora. I can see why Applebloom treats your words as holy." The stallion lazily grinned, the pain in his leg briefly forgotten as he eyed the medicine woman with appreciation.
The mare blushed, a chuckle escaping her lips. Rather than say anything, she let the silence fill her home for a moment, before tapping the stone encased colt to her side.
"Reckon' I'll load him onto my back. Worked earlier," Macintosh quickly spoke, reading her thoughts.
"If you are willing, he's your load to bear," Zecora agreed, tying the statue onto Macintosh's back. She beckoned Angel Bunny over to her with a hoof and he promptly jumped onto her, then adjusted his satchel. When the item fit comfortably, he nodded to the zebra, who continued her rhyme. "With luck, the wolves won't be around to give us a-"
She was cut off by a loud bark outside. Before either could react, the door ruptured, and the maw of an impossibly massive timberwolf thrust forward, catching the mare with his front teeth, and knocking the bunny off her back. Zecora screamed as the monster's jaw dug deep into her torso. Mac shot over to her side, leg be dammed, and he grabbed the creature's large mouth. With a strained breath, he pried open its jaw enough for Zecora to weakly roll out, then, in a surge of uncharacteristic anger, he pushed his muscles even farther, straining against the abomination in front of him. With a primal yell, he lifted his forelegs as high as he could, and stomped down his one good back leg onto the wolves mouth, until he heard a loud snap come from the jawline of the wolf. It recoiled instantly, freeing itself from the now cracked doorframe and whimpering, but Macintosh had no pity for the creature. The stallion lunged forward and ran a his powerful hoof straight through its eye. It gave a shuddering, screaming convulsion as the farm pony's surgical strike rang true, and died before its head even hit the ground. Mac pulled his hoof free from the creature, and rushed back over to Zecora, brushing past the concerned Angel bunny. He put his clean hoof in front of her nose, and felt air.
"Breathing. Thank Celestia," he said, rising. He darted over to where she kept her medical supplies, and proceeded to work on her. Once he was at least mostly satisfied with the result, he placed her as gently as he could onto his back, resting just above the statue. He gave a grunt at the weight, but his green eyes narrowed in determination.
"Angel. Hop on. We gotta go, and we gotta go now," he barked.
The Rabbit complied without any hesitation, climbing up to Macintosh's orange mane, and giving him a pat to show he was ready. The stallion took off at a speed that would make even a pegasus like Rainbow Dash envious. His heart beat painfully in his ribcage, and he could tell without even looking that his leg was bleeding again. It didn't matter. What mattered was taking care of Zecora.
The close howls of the timberwolves did nothing to deter him. He ignored them, pressing on. When a few stood before him on the path, he ignored their presence, charging through them violently, knocking them away with a mighty strike from his shoulder. He winced in pain from his earlier injury to it, but ignored it too. He felt Angel tugging on his mane, trying desperately to hold on. Thankfully, it was only a moment before the rabbit got his grip back.
Ahead, Mac saw a break in the trees. He pushed forward, summoning his last drops of strength. He cleared the edge of the woods, the howls of the timberwolves fading into silence as he made it to the edge of Fluttershy's property. He gave a glance up at Angel.
"Ya..y...ya..." Macintosh tried to speak, but lacked the strength. His body felt like it was quitting on him, and he found that was something he couldn't ignore.
Angel seemed to at least understand what the farm pony was trying to say, and hopped off, giving a nod to the exhausted colt. He pointed towards Zecora, then pointed to town.
"E-eyup," he managed to stutter, before erupting into a coughing fit. "Ta..take care of Flut."
With one last glance to the animal, Mac slowly walked towards town, blood dotting behind him.
---
The clinic was in the center of town, right by the market. Macintosh knew this due to repeated experience. Applebloom and her friends, AJ, Rainbow Dash, they all seemed to frequent the area, like a drunkard would frequent a bar. Of course, he was far from innocent himself, Nurse Redheart knew him on a first name basis thanks to the injuries he seemed to constantly get on the farm. As he rose a shaking hoof to knock at the clinc's door, it was opened instead. Redheart saw his face, and she gave an exasperated sigh.
"It's pretty early for an injury Macintosh, what..." Her eyes widened in shock when she saw his foreleg, drenched in gore.
"That ain't my blood. Least, I hope not," the stallion weakly said with a pained laugh, before falling forward onto the wooden floor of the clinic's entrance.
"Mac!" The cream colored pony cried out, putting a gentle hoof to his face. "Hold on!"
"Worry 'bout the little lady on my back first. I'm...I'm just tuckered out," he drawled, his eyes closing on their own accord, and the loud noises of Redheart's frantic speech fading to the background.