Chapter 12: An Unwelcome Arrival

Zecora was a little grumpy as she cantered through the shadows left behind as the sun fled the Everfree. She had spent most of the day searching for various herbs, and one in particular she really wanted to find. Having lived for so many years in the forest, however, the zebra knew better than to be outside at night looking for mint, so she was preparing to retire without her usual cuppa. Better a dry throat than one chewed off.

Returning home, she shut out the deepening dark and lit the candles with a deftly lipped taper before resting; dinner could wait while she took a load off her hooves. Idly, she wondered what was happening to that Shetlander colt, and why he had been pursuing the Shetlanders and the Laird. Something wasn't right about that colt's head, she mused to herself in the quiet night, something was...

...missing.

Normally the Everfree Forest, even outside her door, was alive with nocturnal bustle. Bats, owls, hedgehogs, crickets, the odd frog. But not now. Zecora held her breath as she listened even more intently, then rose off her nest of cushions and quietly moved to the door. Opened it a crack, to smell the air.

At first she smelled the familiar odours of earth and growing things, then a breeze coaxed a radically different bouquet to her nose.

Like pigs, but stronger. A sickly smell like carrion. And something else, that made her vaguely remember tales of a place whose very name was a warning, whose lore was such she would never share it with the foals even on Nightmare Night.

"Nafasiyaminyoomauti," she whispered unthinking, then froze as she realised her candles still gleamed in the windows.

If she could scent them...

She hurriedly pulled the door shut, then sought for the bar she normally rarely used. Several herbs were snatched up and dumped inelegantly into a bowl, followed by hot water from her kettle. The resultant fumes made her want to cough as she hurriedly doused the candles, eyes streaming, before diving for her cushion couch and pulling it over on top of her.

If she had their scent, they probably had hers – or more likely –

There was a thump. What few stars were visible through the window and her watering eye were blocked by something.

It was too late to run. She could only hope...

Something grunted. It sounded just wrong, like one of the Apple family's pigs, but more malignly intelligent. Zecora shivered, horrible tales unwinding themselves in her mind.

Now she heard sounds, hooves trampling the grass. A crunch, followed by a wet tearing sound that turned her spine to ice. More grunts. It was speech, but so crude and uncouth as to be unintelligible.

Then somepony – somepig – else replied. This one's voice was deeper, and far less comprehensible; a clotted, gurgling sound as though drowning. The alpha boar no doubt.

The door shook as something shoved at it, then again, the wood creaking in protest. Zecora shoved a pillow into her mouth to muffle her whimper of fear.

The loud snap as the door split caused her to wet herself.

The grunt-talk was louder now, and somepig sniffed deeply through the hole, before choking and snarling in disgust. Zecora closed her eyes in relief; masking her scent with an acrid vapour had worked!

Now another voice, coming closer and shouting in excitement. The alpha boar, angry and demanding. The newcomer squealed excitedly, repeating a phrase over and over. The alpha questioned again, and got an answer.

Then silence.

Then the alpha snarled that phrase, and the zebra nearly screamed in fright at the unearthly hate in his voice. Other voices joined in, a chorus of hate and frenzy that made Zecora bite hard on her pillow and shut her eyes tightly. So terrified was she, she didn't notice them leave, nor that she had lost control of her bowels.

She was still shaking when the voices had faded into the distance. She pressed an ear to the broken door – she couldn't stand it. She just shoved the door aside and began running along the shortest route she knew to Ponyville.

No time for hiding or being aloof! Warn all the ponies! Danger is ahoof!

For all Mucmarfóir was a warrior born, Winterberry was the first to rouse at the sound of approaching hooves.

She looked around in confusion for a moment, before it all landed on her like a ton of horseapples. She closed her eyes and groaned, but her nose reminded her: baked potatoes, cheap night drink, and sex.

Ma allus said be careful what thee wishes for, she thought to herself. Well, ah kicked it up like ah wanted and look where it's got me! Did thee guess ma? When thee insisted I take that moon tea?

The hooves were getting closer, which spurred the mare to action – namely shaking the still slumbering stallion as hard as she could. "Get up ye! Company's comin'!"

"Whuh?" was one of Mucmarfóir's statements, before she lost patience and half walked, half-staggered to the stream. Sucking up a mouthful of water, she deliberately sprayed it into his face. With a cough and splutter, the Shetland wildpony finally returned to the waking world.

"Wha' th' buck's that for? Wha's got intae thee? Wha' –" He finally took in the almost complete absence of sun, the stars peeping down, and Winterberry's distressed expression – along with the scents of – "Och hay... thee sire an' dam!" he groaned.

It were the night drink, he were sure of it. What the buck had he been thinking, sharing that jug with the Laird's daughter? He and her, all alone, an' she...

"Buck them," she hissed urgently, "summat's comin'!" She then frowned, ears swivelling toward the damning approach. "From t' forest?"

Mucmarfóir also listened. The hoofbeats were at the gallop, but then again, perhaps some foal had been exploring too long and was just going hay for leather to get away home before Luna took reign.

The two were still trying to figure out what to do when the zebra burst out of the undergrowth and skidded to a halt, totally lathered, staring at them with wild eyes.

"Kukimbia! Kukimbia!" the mare half-gasped, half-yelled. "Kifo anatembea usiku huu! Haraka! Kukimbia kwa ajili ya mji!"

"Wha'?" The two ponies stared at her uncomprehendingly, since neither spoke Zwahili. "Wha's got thee into a stampede?"

"Je, wewe ni viziwi?" the zebra yelled hysterically. "Kukimbia wewe wana wao! Nguruwe watumishi wa wale hofu maandamano leo! Kukimbia! Au kufa!"

"We dinnae ken what thee's sayin!" Winterberry exclaimed in frustration.

"Wha's so grand about cucumbers?" Mucmarfóir demanded as well.

"Cu – cucumbers?"

The Equestrian word caused the Zwahili stampede in Zecora's brain to come to a crashing halt, as though they had slammed full tilt into a squash of unusual size. She gaped at the two ponies, her somewhat traumatised nose not picking up the telltale scents on them, and it's likely her mind wouldn't have cared anyway.

"Speak... I speak not of cucumbers, though that would be more fun," she finally managed to get out. "Kukimbia is what I urge: my native tongue for run!"

"But wha' for?" the big brown stallion asked stupidly.

"Ah'll tell thee," the white mare answered, "because summat's spooked her, an' it must be comin this way!"

The stallion just blinked at her.

"A herd of vile boar came knocking in my door," Zecora added urgently. "And of this I am sure: their leader is something more."

The stallion's face went grim. "Sounds like t' Muc," he said grimly, his stance shifting to a fighting one. "Winterberry, follow yon mare. Ah'll be behind thee in case the snouties catch up."

Winterberry gulped, swallowed, and looked at the zebra mare. "Lead t' way," she gasped, and Zecora was only too glad to do so. "We just follow the stream," she called over her shoulder, "to escape this doom from nightmare dream."

In Ponyville, Soothecup needed one of her namesakes, and Roanald wasn't too happy either. "Do thee mean t' say nopony's seen your sister since t' hoofball?"

Rianblade and Amhránaílore both looked sheepish. "No da," they chorused.

Off to one side, Twilight, General Stormblade, and the rest of Harmony Incarnate stood awkwardly. They'd been finalising preparations until they were interrupted by a hysterical Soothecup demanding to know where Winterberry was.

"And you're sure she never came to your shop," Twilight asked Rarity yet again.

"For the last time," Rarity was almost in tears, "I never saw the filly! Not since the hoofball match! I asked Mucmarfóir back home afterwards, and –"

"Ooh, Rarity's got a coltfriend," sing-songed Rainbow Dash, puckering her lips exaggeratedly and ignoring the exasperated shove Applejack gave her.

"Will you two stop that!?" Twilight demanded in exasperation, "We've got a missing pony on our hooves!"

Rainbow blinked, then noticed that the unicorn was looking at Fluttershy as well. The two pegasi schooled their expressions to neutrality with some effort.

"As I was saying," Rarity resumed, "After the match I offered Mucmarfóir a place to stay for the night, but he said he wanted to walk for a bit and clear his head. I never saw him, nor Winterberry, after that. Pity," she added, "I'm absolutely certain I could make her a dress fit for the royal court..."

"Hang about," Amhránaílore interjected, "Did thee say thee were with that mad fluffy at t' hoofball?"

"Well, yes? He seemed to enjoy it. Rooted quite loudly for Shetland too."

"An' ye took 'im in hoof, I take it."

"Of course! He was an absolute mess when I saw him, just ask Lotus and Aloe! We had to shear him in order to fix up his coat, then I took him home to dress him in something other than those rags of his –"

"So he looks totally different," groaned the bard, "An' so nopony'll ken tae him, let alone – Ma? What is it?"

"That queer pony ah saw by Rarity there," gasped Soothecup, "Winterberry was interested in 'im. Askin' who he was an' all."

There was a large number of facehoofs and groans. "This is soundin' like some naff ballad," Amhránaílore scowled, "But where could they be?"

"Och, mah poor wee foal," Soothecup moaned, also sounding like somepony out of a naff ballad.

Several dozen boar with a predilection for attacking anything in their path do not move very fast. Several dozen boar led by something in what's left of a larger, more powerful boar move even less fast.

Either way they move slower than three frightened ponies who are galloping as fast as they can along a stream to the outskirts of a forest.

Starlight Vigil could attest to that. The Lunar Guard was patrolling the forest, using magically augmented vision to track where these Muck, or Mook, or however the Shetlanders pronounced it, might emerge. Normally he'd prefer to regard the million jewels of the night sky, a trait his captain had often waxed caustic on, but right now the ground was his concern.

Three ponies bursting from the forest edge at speed was something worth investigating.

Folding his wings, the pegasus dropped to intercept the fleeing trio: a brown fellow at the rear, who lagged behind due to frequently wheeling as if challenging whatever pursued them; a white mare with a red mane; and in front... wasn't that the local hermit mare? What was her name? Zeke? Or...?

Several ponies on the ground had seen them, and were coming to investigate.

Ostensibly the two Royal Guardscolts were on duty, but that hadn't stopped a pair of Shetlanders from engaging them in talking shop. Discussing fighting skills and tactics with interested parties was more interesting that watching a distant forest, so the sound of galloping hooves took them by surprise.

"Hoy there!" one called, "Halt! Who goes there?"

In the starlit darkness, it was hard to see the runners, except one had a very light coat, and they were all heading for the town.

"I think they're fleeing something," the other guard observed.

"What makes you think that?"

"The one at the back… He keeps wheeling about, like he's covering the plot."

Some of the Shetlanders snickered at the crudity. The public version was 'watching the tail', but the hardy northern folk didn't have such delicate sensibilities.

Others didn't. Despite the fun of the hoofball match, the arrival of the colts from Canterlot, the fact that both Royal and Lunar Guard were represented, and the fast-spread news that all of Harmony Incarnate had been seen meeting with the Laird and the captain of the troops – the Shetlanders could tell something was ahoof and about to get violent.

Now here were three ponyfolk fleeing the Everfree as if fearing for their lives… as though the Muc were after them.

Zecora saw white coats and metal helms move to intercept her. She recognised the armour of the Royal Guard, and half-scrambled, half-skidded to a stop, gasping for breath. "Kuna… kuna hatari ya kuja," she began, before catching herself. She wasn't in Zebrabwe anymore. "Horror stalks the Forest there," she began again, "All Ponyville must now prepare!"

"Horror? What horror?" one asked, "Who are you?"

"Hang on," the other said, "she's Zecora, the hermit who lives in the Everfree! Remember? Back when there was that poison joke going around."

"Poison joke?" The other looked confused. "What're you talking about?"

"Dinnae know," the white mare behind her... what had the stallion called her? ...declared in a winded voice, "An' dinnae give a buck. Muc're comin'."

"Winterberry!" Zecora dimly recognised the shaggy outlines of several of those northern hooligans. "Where's thee been? Your ma's been goin' spare wi' worry!"

The mare groaned with annoyance, much to Zecora's surprise. "When will ma dam work out I'm nae some wee filly no more?"

The zebra looked over at Winterberry. "A mother's love is not for spurning," she declared, "Herdward now you should be turning."

"Aye, aye," Winterberry snorted, and at this time the stallion emerged into the light. "Ah think we've time," he reported in clipped tones, "Cannae see or smell 'em –"

"Mucmarfóir!"several of the Shetlanders shouted, postures going stiff and hooves stamping meaningfully. One lilac lad pushed forward. "Wha's thee doin' wi' t' Laird's daughter?" he asked angrily, blowing like a bellows.

"Wha's tae do wi' thee?" the stallion retorted with equal ire, stomping a hoof emphatically.

"Ah, gentlecolts," one of the guardsponies began somewhat nervously. The air seemed charged with testosterone.

"It's nowt tae do wi' ye," Winterberry informed the lilac Shetlander, "So if ye don't mind, I'll be awa' hame then."

"I'll escort you to them," declared the local guardspony, "They're at the guardhouse."

"I'll have tae come to," Mucmarfóir declared, "They'll need warning about yon Muc in t' forest."

"Ye'll keep thee distance from t' Laird," lilac lad growled, advancing a step on the brown stallion.

A dark shape interposed himself between the two stallions. "Knock it off there!" Starlight Vigil declared, "we'll escort these three to the guardhouse and make sure nopony causes trouble." His gaze said that he felt trouble wore a lilac coat and sporran. "After all, there's a lot more guards than him. Right?"

The lilac Shetlander looked at the armoured pegasus, apparently remembering that a blow from a pegasus' wing can break bones. He stood down, grumbling.

"Right," Starlight Vigil took command, "You and you," a wing indicated the guardsponies, "Head and tail our little herd, show the way to the guardhouse. Now then you three, we'll get all this sorted at the guardhouse, so shall we go?"

A short while later, the bickering amongst Harmony Incarnate, the Royal Guards and the Laird was interrupted by, in order, two Royal Guardscolts, Zecora, then –

"Winterberry!" The young mare in question was almost knocked over by her dam, who was gibbering something about being so glad she was alw'reet after all.

"Ma," she managed to get out after a while, "canna – breathe," followed a little later.

Soothecup registered the interesting shade her filly was going and released her from her embrace, looking her over. "Where were ye? Wha' were ye doin'? An' where's ye kilt?"

This wasn't out of propriety. Equestrians are fairly relaxed about nudity, since either one's in estrus or you're not, and moon tea is available over the counter, but Winterberry had been wearing the Deargdyer tartan on her flanks earlier in the day.

"Ah..." the young mare's mind raced. "There were this... this swimmin' hole, see, an' then..."

"These three just emerged from the Everfree Forest, sir," Starlight Vigil was informing Captain Stormblade, "running for their lives. Ah, Zecora here claimed something dangerous was approaching Ponyville and that we should prepare. She was followed by, ah, Winterberry there, and this guy was bringing up the rear and said it was the Mook, or something like that."

"T' Muc," Rianblade had approached the guardspony, "So they're close. Now who's yon chap who –"

"Chap?" Soothecup had overheard them. "Chap? Wha' were thee doin' with a colt alone and unclothed, Winterberry an Deargdyer?"

Twilight and her friends just watched the drama unfold in front of them.

"We – we –" Winterberry's brain stalled. Mucmarfóir's brain was in a similar state because Rianblade was staring at him now – more precisely, at his cutie mark.

"Ye," Rianblade said in a dangerous tone.

"Him," Starlight Vigil confirmed helpfully.

"Ye've been covered!"

All eyes fell on Soothecup, who was glaring at Winterberry. "An' that's – that's whiskey on ye breath!" Her nostrils flared with fury. "Now who's yon fillyfoolin' hayrakin' son o' a broodmare who..."

Harmony Incarnate flinched. Like the term stud, calling anypony a broodmare was a terrible insult to their morals and virtue.

Rianblade eyed Mucmarfóir, looked at his mother, then edged away. "Buck 'elp yer," he smirked. He did not gulp.

The brown Shetlander now found himself with nothing between him and Winterberry's enraged dam. "Ye'd better be able tae explain thysel'," she growled, approaching slowly, hooves not so much rapping as snapping on the floor.

Mucmarfóir had encountered frisky mares before, and overprotective parents besides, but here was the whole clan, and the guard besides, and... and he didnae ken what to do.

Then Winterberry screamed. She was leaning back with shock, one forehoof pointing at Mucmarfóir's flank. She staggered sideways a few steps, then keeled over fainting. This had the effect of causing Soothecup to forget about causing violence to that brown studdy gobshite and instead scramble to Winterberry's side, before freezing and looking back at him.

"Ye," she gasped, "Roanald," she demanded of her husband, "Ah thought ye tol' yon brown fluffy tae be awa' hame this mornin'!"

"Nay wife," Roanald was looking upset, "Ah tol' 'im tae mind hisself until we were awa' on t' train. Wanted 'im where ah could see 'im."

"An' a grand job ye did!" Soothecup responded angrily, "here's your daughter gone out of sight an' covered by that brown fluffy stud!"

"Now c'mon, my love, be reasonable –" Roanald was uncomfortable with having this family dispute basically happening in public.

"Reasonable?" Soothecup's voice was a frenzied shriek. "Oh aye Ah'll be reasonable! By buck, I'll do the reasonable thing right awa', won't Ah!"

Apparently the reasonable thing was to wheel and charge a cringing Mucmarfóir with a banshee shriek. This however was thwarted by a purple nimbus that lifted her into the air.

"Put me doon!" the mare screamed.

"No," Twilight's face was scowling partly from exertion and partly from irritation. "We haven't got time for this! We have to get ready, or we," and a hoof indicated the rest of Harmony Incarnate, "will have to Call Down The Moon!"

This warning had some interesting effects. Soothecup's screeching cut off mid-curse. Fluttershy collapsed into a feebly fluttering ball. The guardsponies who'd come seeking the source of the shouting all froze. All the Shetlanders started in fear, except Winterberry and Amhránaílore – the latter having also fainted.

"Did..." Roanald started, then attempted to collect himself. "Did tha'... did thee... did thee say 'C-c-call Down T' M-m-moon?"

Twilight looked at Soothecup, then lowered her to the ground again. "'Usband," Soothecup hurried to him, "Did she just say..."

"The Princess Luna sent instructions," Twilight declared into the silence, "Because one of these Muc is host to one of Them, there's a chance it could hatch. And if that happens..." she looked at the message on the table before her and swallowed, "we'll have to use the Elements of Harmony for the Calling."

"'Sides, we know where they're comin' from now," Applejack added with forced optimism. Everypony had heard stories of horror that invariably led to Calling Down The Moon; in fact, it was a genre in itself, with some truly inventive and bloodcurdling descriptions of what the Call involved. In her mind, what was needed was something to take everypony's mind off that. "The yearling's meadow!"

"How'd you know that?" Starlight Vigil asked quickly.

"Easy! It's not far inside the Everfree, there's a stream you follow that has a swimming hole in it, and apple trees'll grow bananas if somepony hasn't stashed some night drink up there somewhere."

"And if we get a move on, we can kill off Them before it hatches, and we won't need to..." Twilight left the rest unsaid.

"Well then." Captain Stormblade tone indicated that he wasn't interested in anypony's opinions. "If we can avoid... that... then let's assemble our troops. You," he addressed Starlight Vigil, "all Lunar and Royal guardsponies will assemble in the town hall. Laird Roanald, please round up your herd and have them at the town hall too. We'll give out final orders there. Then we'll teach these monsters a lesson."

Outside, the scout led Grault and his war party to Mucmarfóir's trail, and they eagerly followed it up to the edge of the forest.

They looked at the town, larger than any they had seen so far, its lights glowing placidly before them, beyond rather more open space than what was left of the boar chieftain liked. So far Grault had been careful to skirt settlements and avoid detection. But now, they would have to enter this one and strike down...

Thought – if you could call it that – not his own directed Grault's pondering as he contemplated how best to attack.