//------------------------------//
// Ch. 1-15: An Old Forest 
// Story: Seeking A Quiet Afternoon 
// by Tired Old Man 
//------------------------------//

Mender could hear screams echoing behind him, pleading him not to go in. He refused, he had to get Crunch. He didn't know the name of this place, but the threat this forest posed escalated in an odd magical pressure on his body the further he ran inside. His breathing became more labored, his hooves heavier, and before he knew it, he had stopped sprinting and started walking.

"Crunch! Cruuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnch!"

The forest did little to carry his voice more than a few meters from his position...where WAS his position? He looked around, slowly realizing he didn't even remember which direction he came from. He didn't even hear any of those pony voices from the edge of the forest as a cold, eerie silence coalesced around him.

No light dared to intrude through the dense leaf canopy above him. This place was dark, and Mender found himself barely able to see. He was lucky he didn't run into any trees as he should have. Minutes passed in that silent spot until his eyes adjusted enough to see...which still didn't help much.

And then came the voice.

"Right, judging from your screaming earlier, you lost your pet, didn't you?"

Mender sighed. "Yes, I did. It ran off into this dark, evil forest...which I am now lost in."

"You're in the Everfree forest?! Hahahahaha, oh man, you're so screwed."

"Your vote of confidence is always appreciated, Young. My pet is in here too, you know."

"Most likely dead, too." Young could feel Mender glaring at the band. "What? I'm trying to be realistic here. The Everfree Forest is a terrifying place."

"You know these woods?"

"Mender, there are ancient creatures that thrive among the shadows and the trees. Predators that predate peaceful times thrive in this place, devoid of the kindness that extends outside its borders. None of them will hesitate to kill you or your pet if given the opportunity...for when you are here, you are always prey."

A howl from an unknown distance or direction seemed to punctuate that last word. Prey. Mender was prey...and something caught his scent. Young had heard the howl as well.

"Timberwolves. Run."

Mender didn't hesitate. He ran off in a direction he didn't know or care about...he simply ran.  

Regardless of the path he took or how many turns he added, the forest only seemed to get darker and the howls louder as his hooves ached under the rough terrain below him. He ran across thick tree roots and small creeks, small hills and bumpy walkways. He ran until his body refused to run, choosing to trip him as he fell into a bush.

The snapping of twigs and branches within the bush might as well have been a dinner bell for the Timberwolves behind him now. Mender got up and snapped around to see three sets of burning emerald eyes looking back at him. He could barely make their figures out in the deep darkness of the forest. Their bodies were made out of wood chunks from the very trees surrounding him, though they were cut into pieces that seemed to make a shape of a wolf. Nothing seemed to be holding the wood together, which meant these creatures used magic to keep their bodies together. A thick, dark green mossy pelt covered their backs. Finally, packed within their mouths were carefully sharpened wooden fangs, dripping with thick sap as they imagined savoring the meal in front of them.

Mender rose to his feet to face the beasts before him. He was no fighter. In fact, during the war he vowed to never bring harm unless it was absolutely necessary to save another life...or his own. But that was different from this. Here he faced creatures fully intending to kill, and Mender had nothing to hold him back.

In a split-second, he assessed his immediate options as time seemed to freeze for that instant in his mind.

Running he discarded immediately, as they outpaced him, plain and simple. They were close enough so that their stench assaulted his nose, and if he ran, he may keep them at bay for seconds, a minute at best before they came upon him to rend his flesh from his bones. And if he tripped again at any point during that run...

No, he had to fight. He studied the positioning of the wolves figures. Each one seemed tense and ready to strike, though he saw a twitch of impatience in the wolf to his left. That one would strike first. The middle would come next, as that one would notice the movement first, leaving the one on his right to go last.

He considered the fighting styles available to him, which were unicorn and earth. Unicorn he discarded as well, he couldn't cast magic. He knew this, and trying to do so would get him killed. Thus, he thought like an earth pony would fight.

His peripheral vision told him of the tree near the bush he tripped on, and he used it to unfold a scenario in his mind. That tree would give him leverage to strike the first wolf down with ease. The second would pick up on his motion toward the tree and strike there. It would miss. 

That would leave the last wolf, the most dangerous one. After assaulting the first, Mender could either translate that momentum into dodging the bite from the third, or turn and buck it in the face. Both had their risks. 

The dodge would leave him no time to counter, and by that point the second wolf would recover from hitting the tree, leaving two threats to deal with...and no leverage would exist where he would have to dodge to, which would be the bottom of a small hill. Low ground was always a terrible disadvantage, and if both wolves attacked, he would need to keep dodging...and sooner or later, that would fail unless one of them separated from the other enough to go on the offensive. He had no way of knowing if that would happen, as it would boil down to guessing the moment he went down that hill. Too risky.

The buck was slightly different. Mender knew where he would land the wolf would strike. If his buck missed its mark, those teeth would end him. He wouldn't miss. The buck would hit the snout dead on. It would be nowhere as strong as an earth pony's would, but it would have to do. 

That would leave just one foe, who would just finish recovering from the tree. He would have to go on the offensive at that point, jump in a use his horn in an entirely different purpose. He would stab the wolf in its burning eye as hard as he would manage, then uppercut its head to free himself.

That was it. That was his plan now. The split-second faded as the left wolf dashed in first.

The moves felt rehearsed in his body as he dashed up the tree and ran up it slightly. The first wolf had already made its lunge, and the second lunged toward the tree, the third lagging slightly behind the two. Mender kicked off the tree and landed on the head of the first wolf with both front hooves, shattering it as the rest of the body crumbled to logs and branches in response. The third jumped where he landed, just as he predicted it would. He spun slightly on one hoof and bucked into the air.

The plan deviated slightly. His hooves struck true, but one of them caught a sharp fang in the wolf's mouth. Mender winced as it drew blood, but he had still mangled the creature's wooden face enough so that it crumbled as the first did. Mender removed his rear hoof from the fang, confident in his last assault plan as the second wolf shook away its daze. It looked up to find a horn piercing its right eye, and yowled in pain. The yowl didn't last long as Mender followed through with an uppercut, breaking the wolf's wooden jaw and freeing its head from the rest of its body. The green flame in its eyes sputtered and died as it crumbled just like the rest.

Mender finally took a large breath of relief, which suddenly cut itself short as he felt sharp fangs sink into his body from behind. He could barely wrench his head back as he screamed in pain to see his assailant. A fourth timberwolf.

Mender realized how foolish it was to only assume that there were three following him, and his plans gambled on that number. In that moment he cursed himself, he should have considered the option that more were out there, waiting for his move...and he fell right into that trap.

There was no time to plan now. On instinct, he brought his elbow back to strike the wolf's face, and it connected. The grip on his body relented slightly, and Mender took that opportunity to free himself from the wooden jaw that held him. The wolf's daze was brief, and it readied itself for another strike.

Mender was but a few paces away as the two circled each other, sizing up the others' strengths and weaknesses. 

His advantage: years of experience. The wolf's advantage: His wounds and knowledge of the layout of the forest.

Mender decided to strike first. He didn't want the wolf to have an opportunity to think and act first. Mender quickly closed the gap and landed a blow to the wolf's face again with his left forehoof. The wolf reeled for a moment before striking back with an outstretched claw. Mender ducked the blow as the claw sheared away some of his mane hair. He drove his head upward into the wolf's chest, the horn piercing a few inches into the wood. He removed the horn and spun around as the wolf recoiled, landing a buck square in the wolf's chin. 

The impact was enough to render the wolf inert at last, but instead of breathing, Mender looked around quickly and saw nothing else coming. He then heard an odd noise that didn't fit this forest. It sounded like...clapping?

"Bravo! Bravo, Mender. You've managed to disable four timberwolves in less than ninety seconds."

He forgot Young was still with him...in a sense. But one word he said caught his attention.

"Disabled?"

"They're not dead, you know. They reassemble themselves in minutes. You best make tracks while you still can."

Mender obliged without hesitation. He did NOT want to try and fight those things again, not with the wounds he sustained. Blood was slowly leaking out from the holes and stained his grey coat the same color as his mane. So long as his wounds seeped his life away, they could track him easily...not that they needed that to get him last time, but it makes it much easier for them.

He stopped for a moment to gather moss from the trees, and shoved it into the bleeding wounds on his body. Moss was quite useful in the medic world, acting as a bandage and a sponge as it plugged up whatever wounds leaked blood. This moss was no different. It stung as he placed it in the wounds, but it faded in moments as the moss held firm. It wasn't the best he could do, but it was certainly better than nothing.

He picked up the pace again, but he was careful not to dislodge the moss as he went. Soon he came across a small lit clearing in the forest. It wasn't a path, and the clearing didn't seem to lead anywhere, but it looked much more inviting than the darkness behind him. He gleefully entered the clearing and basked in the light coming from above.

Apparently he had been in the forest for some time, as the light above him was a deep magenta, a signal of nightfall coming. This wasn't good. He still needed to find Crunch in here before the stars came out. He thought the forest was terrible enough being as dark as it was...and if it got darker...

Rustling in a nearby bush broke his thoughts.

"Crunch?"

He turned to face the sound, and his limbs grew heavy, his breath cold and heaving. He tried to turn his face, move his legs, but they were frozen in place. A pair of red eyes stared at him from the bush, and he couldn't stop staring back.

"What's going on?"

"I-I can't breathe. Can't move."

"Cockatrice. You're being turned to stone, Mender."

STONE?! Out of his peripheral vision, he could see his rear legs indeed turning to stone, and as it spread along the rear half of his body, he was losing all sense of feeling there. He couldn't feel his legs...and his lungs refused to take in air as the petrification crept closer to his chest.

His options were limited to one now. He had to use magic while he could. He tried to focus whatever latent magic was still in his body into his horn, and a very faint glow began to show up. 

The cockatrice noticed this and glared harder, breaking Mender's concentration as the stone reached his neck. 

He felt so...cold. So helpless. He couldn't save himself anymore as the red eyes burned deep into his own. He felt nothing in his ears, and could hear nothing, not even in his head as the nerves in his brain solidified. This was it. This was how Mender was going to die, alone in some forsaken woods with a pair of cold eyes staring him to death.

A black blur swatted the eyes away, and suddenly Mender could take in breath. He couldn't move his eyes yet, but the magic stopped working on him. This was it. This was his opportunity. He could barely think, but he could think, and that was enough.

He slowly tried to form a spell in his head, one of heat, one of warmth to bring life back to his stone body. He needed a memory to get that spark ignited, and it came from an unlikely source.

He thought back to the burning house in his dreams, to the fire that engulfed his family, and his own raging desire to save them despite the risks. He had to live. 

He had to live.

His horn gleamed a brilliant white as the stone began to crumble off his body. He immediately felt exhaustion. Not using unicorn magic for 5 years had put him severely out of shape, but he was free.

He wouldn't be using magic again for a while, but he looked over to the cockatrice and the black blur fighting it.

It was Crunch.

Crunch either knew about how cockatrices work, or didn't care. He made sure to always keep moving and his eyes focused on the body instead of the head. He lunged in and bit the creature, leaving deep holes in the snake-like body. The cockatrice shook him off, but not before Crunch tore a chunk away, hindering its mobility.

It realized at this point it would lose if it fought further, and it slipped away into the bushes outside of the clearing.

Mender hardly recognized his pet at first. It was the first time he had seen Crunch look so threatening. It didn't help when its gaze locked onto his face, anger ever present in its eyes.

Then its look softened as it once again tackled Mender onto the grass, happy he found his master. For the first time, Mender didn't even care about the impact. He was just happy Crunch was safe.

They laid there in the grass, basking in the happiness of the moment when he heard a voice coming from above the forest canopy.

"Mender? Where are you?"

It was Dash. He'd nearly forgotten about the six he left at the entrance to the woods. He pushed Crunch off lightly, and rose up from the ground.

"Down here!" His voice was hoarse, but loud enough for Rainbow Dash to pinpoint his location.

He saw a sky blue figure descend into the clearing. She clearly looked agitated.

"What the hay, Mender? Do you know how dangerous this forest is?!"

"Didn't...but I do now."

"Liar. I told you how dangerous this forest was the moment you got lost. You didn't believe me?"

"I did, but would SHE believe that I learned how dangerous this place was thanks to a voice in my head?"

"She would call that voice common sense, you know."

Mender grumbled, and started examining his moss-covered wounds.

"Well, at least you two are okay," she said, her anger fading into a small smile.

"If 'okay' describes me being bitten, bleeding, and sluggish from surviving a cockatrice stare, then I must have been fan-bucking-tastic before I entered here."

"Hey, you survived a three filly trampling. What's a bite and a near-stoning compared to that?"

Mender grumbled. He forgot she knew about their attack. "Yeah yeah, enough of the jokes. I'm actually seriously hurt, you know. Those teeth sunk in deep, and the moss I put over the holes is about to come off soon."

Dash chuckled. "Eh, you'll live." She then looked to Crunch, who was still holding a piece of the cockatrice in its mouth. "Uh...Mender? Your pet is-"

"I know. He saved me. If it wasn't for him, you'd probably find me as a statue." Mender stroked Crunch's head as he spoke.

Mender coughed and tasted iron. "Damn, looks like a tooth punctured my lung. I suppose you don't mind carrying me again?"

Dash became frustrated. "What am I, a flying taxi to you?"

"Unless you'd rather have me hang out here and die, flying ambulance, we really should get going," Mender joked.

Dash didn't appreciate the joke, but there wasn't time for complaining. She grabbed hold of Mender, who in turn grabbed Crunch as she began to beat her wings to fly them all out of the clearing.

Mender didn't like being in the sky like this. The forest underneath him, while large, began to shrink as they all ascended higher into the magenta sky. He felt like vomiting, but that would do neither their carrier or his pet any favors, so he held it back as she flew to the edge of the Everfree Forest.

The other five ponies waited patiently outside Fluttershy's cottage. Dash's sky blue body stood out against the sky, and Pinkie was the first to notice, bouncing up and down like a pink beacon. Dash didn't go that way, however. Mender told her to go to his home instead so he could drop off Crunch. It was on the way to the hospital, and considering the severity of the bite wound, she obliged him.

They touched down just in front of the porch. Mender ushered Crunch inside, telling him to stay home. Crunch had enough adventure for one day, and so did Mender...but he still needed to get into Ponyville Medical. Dash grabbed him again and they began their ascent when Dash began to talk.

"You're seriously going to owe me for this, you know."

"Yeah...I know. I've no idea how I'm supposed to repay you, though."

Dash thought about it for a moment before an idea came. "Hey, how about-ow!"

Something had hit Dash. Mender turned his head and noted a small dart sticking out of her flank...a dart?!

"Dash, DASH! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..." She was yawning. 

Mender knew it was a tranquilizer dart for certain now. He noted they were about twenty feet off the ground. A fall from this height would be lethal for him. He had to act fast.

"Dash! You need to fly lower. Slowly though, okay?"

"Sure...thing...Mender..." She angled her wings down, and Mender saw the ground slowly coming closer.

Then the ground was coming faster. She was going into a dive.

"Dash! DASH! RAINBOW DASH!" 

It was no use, she was out cold. Mender saw a hill coming up underneath them that was higher than the rest of the ground. He slowly shifted his body weight forward to angle her toward the hill.

He was going to break his ribs again on the landing. He knew that, but he still had to minimize damage to both of them as much as he could. As the hill came upon them, he closed his eyes and awaited the sound of his bones breaking from the fall.