When I’d first became sapient all those months ago, I had followed my prey as instinct had told me to, which meant that I spent much of my time hunting north east of me. Later, when I had become aware of Zecora, I had continued to send my puppets in that same direction
South west and due west were mostly marshes and bogs — poor soil and few animals. Because of that, I rarely traversed that way. Even with my expanded range, I gave little thought to an area that made up almost a quarter of my territory. So, imagine my surprise when, upon reaching the western edge of my territory, I found myself among row upon row of ally-trees and there were no timberwolf trees in sight.
Oh, I should probably explain. Ally-trees are a type of tree that is similar to my kind, but not, like a zebra and a pony. Unlike most of the other trees, the ally-trees have lots of magic, like us timberwolves. They always grew near us; our magic helps them bloom, and their magic helps us lure in more prey and defend us from lightning. Tending to the needs of the ally-trees is instinctive in us and deeply ingrained in our behavior. Even after my awakening, I’ve spread the seeds and tended to the saplings of my own allies.
The ones here looked tired and sickly, and every last one of them was hibernating. That was no good at all. Well, they were clearly in my territory, so it was my duty to help them. Striding up to them, I dug my wolf’s claws into the hard soil, and grimaced. Without my moving roots nearby, the soil for these trees was too densely packed and wouldn’t drain well enough. Maybe for another tree, this soil would have been fine, but ally trees were notoriously picky. And, to top it off, there was way too little organic matter in the soil. Seriously, they needed the same dense layer of rotting plants and animals that I did.
It would take time to fix this soil, and I didn’t know how much I could do from this distance. Hmmm... perhaps Zecora would know if there were any tools that I could use to help them. The Other vaguely remembered that farms had tools that could help, and Zecora did say that there was a village just beyond the northern border of my territory. I’ll have to see if she can enlist any help.
For now, all I can do is wake them up. I’ll come back later for their seeds. Even if I lose them, I will preserve their children.
I gather my magic, that inexplicable energy that wells up from the very core of your being and that flows in blood and in sap, and release it into the air. Each and every one of my puppets howled to the great light of the night. We sang.
Awaken,
Awaken,
Awake, our allies.
Bring forth your seeds.
The ally-trees stirred. They answered my call. Their magic was weak and feeble. It will take time for them to bloom, but already I could feel the energy building in the air. Dark clouds gather as the trees come alive, sparking and hissing as they awake.
I nod, satisfied that I have done my part. I’ve expended a lot of energy, and it is tiring having my puppet out this far, especially without the sun’s warmth. Knowing that there is little more I can do now, I have my wolves retreat to me for the remainder of the night.
As I retreat, I hear a loud, metallic clatter in the distance, a sound that I find excruciatingly unpleasant. Hastening my retreat, I barely hear a voice shout out, “The timberwolves are a howlin’! The zap apples are comin’!”
I let my puppet rest in the shade of some lesser tree. Without magic to bolster their minds, their thoughts — if you could ever call them that — revolved wholly around flowers and the sun. Thankfully, they were quiet as well, so my rest went undisturbed.
And yes, I do grow tired at times; I only have so much strength. I'm just a tree — a magnificent one, to be sure, but even I have my limits.
I was roused by the sound of voices approaching me. Sniffing, I recognized one of the three approaching me as Zecora, so I lowered my guard somewhat. As for the other two, I did not know them. However, one of them frequently traversed the rows of my ally-trees, so much so that her scent clung to practically everything in the area.
I sniffed again. This time, I could pick out more of the subtle differences between them and Zecora. Were they ponies? I think so.
Finally, they were close enough to Lycan for me to hear clearly. "Zecora, how much further is this fella? Ah can't go too far from the orchard; the zap apples are comin' in and Ah have to be ready."
"Yes, Zecora," the other voice said, "I'm curious as to how much further into the Everfree we need to walk to get to this pony. I'm also curious as to why he'd need to be all the way out here, in this icky, nasty, and damp forest."
"Do not worry, Rarity; this shall provide some clarity." She paused and sniffed the air. "Lumber Jack, I know that you're here; the scent of blossoms tells me you're near."
I chuckled; it was a deep, gravelly sound that Zecora's throat couldn't replicate. Then I stood Lycan up to its full height. My wolves were already twice the size of Zecora, and Lycan towered over even them. Lycan could probably eat both ponies without getting too full.
Stepping out from behind the tree, spear in hand, I enjoyed the look on their terrified faces as they gazed upon me.
The feeling of holding power over others is something I could grow to enjoy, it seems.
"Zecora, are these them?" I asked as my baleful, luminous green eyes examined them. The orange one had dense, strong muscles all over her body, all of which were tensed and ready to run. In contrast, the white one was visibly weaker and possessed more body fat. To me, the latter looked both tastier and easier to catch.
Of course, I pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they came, though it didn't completely remove my first impression of them.
"Yes, Jack, these are the ones for which you ask. Applejack and Rarity are up for the task," Zecora replied.
"Good." To each of them, I handed a small strand of my flowers. "I'm Lumber Jack, pack leader of the southern Everfree timberwolves, but you can just call me Jack. I would like your help, if you're willing to give it. My friend Zecora said that both of you could help me."
"A talkin' timberwolf. Now Ah've seen it all," the one Zecora identified as Applejack said.
Rarity was still staring at me, so Zecora nudged Rarity and told her in a whisper — one that I could still overhear — to accept my gift. She nodded, composed herself, and then levitated my flowers towards herself, and in the process caught my full attention; Zecora never mentioned that ponies could levitate plants like I could.
"Thank you, darling. These flowers are really quite beautiful, and they smell simply divine," Rarity said. In response to the praise, the flowers perked up just a bit more.
"I'm glad you like then; I grew them myself."
I would later realize that Rarity was a pony who loved bringing beauty into the world, and anyone who shares that passion is almost immediately granted respect in her eyes. But in that moment, all I knew from her face was that I had just opened the door to friendship with her.
Applejack also seemed somewhat placated by the fact that I grew flowers. I don't think she was picturing the right meaning behind my words, though, but either way, both ponies looked and smelled more at ease.
"What did ya need from us?" Applejack asked.
“Zecora said that you take care of trees, correct?” She nodded, so I continued. “There is a type of tree we timberwolves care for in exchange for protection and food. Recently, I acquired some more territory and I came upon a massive grove of these trees, far more than even my whole pack could care for, all without timberwolves of their own. Their soil was so hard and poor, it’s a miracle that they even survived this long. They tell me that they only ever have enough strength for a single crop of fruit all year - just one! They should be bountiful all year, with ten harvests that last more than a single day each! They’re desperate, and I don’t have the strength or time to care for them all. You have to help me save them! I’m sure they would love for you to have their fruit if you help them.”
“Aww shucks, of course I’ll help you save them. These trees, they wouldn’t happen to be zap apple trees, would they?” Applejack asked.
“I wouldn’t know what you ponies call them, but I can see that being a fitting description. They bear a rainbow-fruit that-”
“Yep, those are zap apples,” Applejack declared, cutting me off. “Mah family grows many of them, and we have been growing them for years; ah think ah can help ya real easily!”
I couldn’t help it; I scooped her up into a tight hug. “Oh, thank you, Applejack! Thank you!”
“ACK! Put me down!” the orange pony cried out. Sheepishly, I obliged. She stepped back and then rubbed her neck, where some of my Lycan’s sap had spilled on her. “Bleh. This stuff stinks.”
“Sorry,” I said.
From the brush, I sent out one of my wolves. The two ponies jumped back, while Zecora barely spared it a glance. “Here,” I said, this time through the wolf instead of through Lycan. “Follow me; I’ll show you the trees and what’s wrong.”
“Wait, there’s another one of ya talking wolves?”
Both puppets cocked their heads. “No,” they said. “Just me.”
“But yer there.” She pointed at Lycan. “Ya can’t be him,” she said, referring to the wolf.
“One mind, many puppets,” Lycan and the wolf spoke together. “I have twelve puppets: eleven wolves and one lycanthrope. They are all controlled by me.”
“Puppets? Huh, that actually makes a good lick of sense. That explains why you get back up if you're smashed."
Her words triggered a memory within me, from the time before I burned, and before the Other's memories became my own. Ah, so that's why she smelled familiar. "It was you that kept hitting me in the face with rocks!"
She paused, trying to recall what I was talking about. "Wait, you were the wolves chasin' Spike! You were gonna eat him."
"Meh, I was an idiotic beast back then, and the lizard did trip over the old pack leader's claws. What creature is dumb enough to trip over a timberwolf's leg?"
"Hey, don't insult Spikey-Wikey like that!" Rarity exclaimed.
"He was in my pack's territory; he should have known better," I replied, shrugging. Really, I had no idea why they were so upset for the sake of a lizard, nor did I care. "Anyway, Applejack, can we get moving? I need you to look at these trees."
"Zecora, are ya sure that he's safe?" the orange pony asked, looking over to the silently waiting zebra.
Zecora nodded. "Although I wouldn't trust him with my life, I am sure that Jack intends no strife."
"Zecoraaaa... I thought we were better friends than that."
She snorted dismissively. "He's turned over a new leaf, it seems. He now has his own hopes and dreams. There is no need for a heart of ice; I find that he can be quite nice."
Applejack looked at Zecora critically. "Fine. If ya think he can be good, I'll give him a shot." She turned to my wolf and waved to it. "Come on, you. Let's go take a look at your trees."
I smiled. Don't you worry, my allies; help is coming.
Now all that was left was getting clothes from Rarity. Granted, it was a much less important issue than the health of my allies, but it still mattered to me. "Rarity, Zecora told me that you're a seamstress, yet I find her claim suspect. If you can make great clothes, why are you not wearing any?"
"Excuse me?" she asked. Her tone was level and inquisitive, rather than defensive as I had expected.
"It's just that both Applejack and Zecora are wearing some adornment, and I have never seen Zecora without her jewelry, and rarely without her cloak. The wilted hunter is a poor partner; I see no proof of your supposed skill."
Rarity scoffed, "The forest is hardly the place for my creations. Why don't you come back to my boutique with me and we can make something for your... unique stature?"
How rude... "No."
"No?" Rarity echoed. "Why ever not?"
"My puppets cannot go beyond the forest's edge, and as for the real me, I am very much a part of the forest. If you think that your creations are too good for a forest dweller, then I should take my business elsewhere," I answered.
The seamstress's eyes went wide. I thought she was aware that she had offended me, and I had my suspicions confirmed a second later when she said, "No no no! I didn't mean it like that. The garments that I create are all very delicate. To wear them in a forest with unpredictable weather and all that mud and filth would destroy them."
"Then your products are inferior to my needs," I replied. "I guess I'll have to go back to making my own clothes." But ugh... tanning. Why does it have to involve fire?
"No!" Rarity shouted pleadingly. "Let it never be said that Rarity failed a customer's request! I accept your challenge of making extremely durable clothes fit for a forest king! Let's talk details."