Lord Deathweaver prowled through Castle Circadia's halls. Necrotized diamond dogs labored tirelessly around him as they cleared rubble and reinforced the ancient stonework. They did not eat, drink, or sleep; they had no use for such things. Instead, they worked all hours of every day with the diligence and efficiency of a well-oiled machine. Hammers chiseled and dust filled the air. Deathweaver drifted by the construction like a phantom.
He stepped into the library. Decrepit bookshelves rotted around him, and the miasma of mildew and mold filled the air with a musty stench, but Deathweaver ignored it. The pale alicorn read the names of several tomes. Many were illegible and ruined by the passage of time. He snorted in contempt at the lack of care given to such priceless knowledge.
"Truly a travesty." A voice sighed next to him.
A unicorn stallion stood on Deathweaver's left. Dust drifted through his ethereal body while light from a window pierced his transparent flesh. Threadbare and wispy garments, once dashing and sophisticated, clung to the specter like an echo on a memory. Deathweaver eyed him, brow raised in curiosity.
The ghost blinked and looked at Deathweaver through his monocle. "Oh, pardon me, Milord. Smooth Operator, at your service! I am the former Chief of Staff at Castle Circadia. My family and I served the Royal Sisters for three centuries before, ahem, their spat and the proceeding evacuation of the grounds."
"I see…" Deathweaver nodded. "Why is it that you remain here, Mister Operator? Why did you not follow your mistress when she abandoned this place?"
"Well…" Smooth Operator kicked the floor. "I'm afraid I was preoccupied at the time. If I remember correctly, I was assisting with the evacuation when part of the ceiling collapsed. I believe some of your compatriots just uncovered my bones a few minutes ago…"
"An unfortunate end. Is there anything, in particular, you desire for your remains?"
"I believe I may be able to find where my family's burial grounds are if you can spare some of your workers."
"It will be done."
"Splendid!" Operator grinned. "Glad that will be taken care of. It's quite the horrid sensation to keep walking past the spot where one expires and knowing your body is still there somewhere. Now, is there anything I can assist you with, My Lord?"
"Perhaps. I am searching for any tomes and scrolls that are still intact. I would like to restore them if possible, and renovate this area of the castle into something more useful."
"Ah, yes. It truly is a shame. Really. There were preservation spells on each of these shelves, but not even the best wards can last a thousand years without maintenance. I'm afraid there isn't much left."
"Disgraceful," Deathweaver grumbled. "So much knowledge, so many memories, wasted. She simply left and never returned? Truly? Not even to collect the priceless artifacts that litter the halls or pay respects to the dead?"
"I…" Operator frowned. "I believe she had a lot on her mind at the moment. I can only speculate and piece together second-hand information, but I believe she simply could not bring herself to return to such a pitiful place. Too many painful memories, you see."
"Her weakness and neglect will be the downfall of her kingdom." Deathweaver snorted as several dozen tomes floated from the shelves and glided past him. He appraised them with a critical eye and divided them between the salvageable ones and those that crumbled to dust.
"It was not my place to question Her Majesty." Operator shrugged.
Deathweaver stopped and turned to the stallion. "And now you are free. You are free from both Celestia's yoke, and from the chains of life. Your destiny is your own now, Smooth Operator. Once your bones are laid to rest, you will be free to ascend to whatever awaits you. Likewise, you are also free to remain here. The choice is yours."
Smooth Operator frowned as he wrinkled his brow. He looked at Deathweaver and smiled. "My family has served this estate for centuries. It simply would not do to abandon it now that there's life in these halls. Well… You know what I mean."
"I admire your sense of duty, Mister Operator." Deathweaver nodded. "I would be glad to have you serve under my banner. You are free to retake your post as Chief of Staff. Please see to my brothers and sisters. Ensure this place fits my designs."
A shiver passed through Smooth Operator as his body glowed with an eldritch aura. Powerful magic coursed through him, and he was suddenly aware of every ghoul, shadow, and ghost in the castle. The specter panted and shook himself vigorously.
"I say…" he cleared his ethereal throat. "That was quite the sensation. Not to worry, My Lord. I'll have this castle running like a well-oiled kettle before you know it!"
Smooth Operator faded away and left Deathweaver to his work of emptying each shelf of books and scrolls. They floated in an orderly line past his eyes and into neat stacks. Those that were rotten or illegible were tossed haphazardly into a pile to be burned later.
The hours ticked by until half of the library's contents had been marked for incineration. Deathweaver sighed in disappointment and inventoried everything he had salvaged. Most were either books of law, magic, or archaic science. Little would be of use to him aside from the tomes on herbalism and biology, but he would make do.
Now for the real work.
Deathweaver flicked his horn and several empty shelves shattered into splinters. He reached out to several ghouls that arrived bearing logs and burlap sacks full of sand and nails as he swept away the rotten crumbs of wood. Strong but unintelligent, the ghouls dropped their cargo with jingling, clattering thuds, bowed to Deathweaver, and retreated from the room.
Deathweaver waved his horn and the building materials flew through the air. The air shimmered and whirred as telekinetic blades sliced through the logs. Dozens of nails sprung from one of the sacks and swarmed the wooden planks that took shape. A river of sand spilled out from the others and coiled into a large sphere in the center of the room like a snake.
Now… How did that song go, again?
Long wooden tables and fresh shelves materialized amidst the tempest of planks and nails. Deathweaver levitated them through the room after they were built. Meanwhile, an angry red glow awoke within the sphere of sand. It pulsated like an irritated eye that glared at Deathweaver with smoldering revilement. He felt the bristling heat press against his flesh, but he met the sand's glare with his own icy indifference.
Deathweaver squared his shoulders and faced the ball of sand that churned in the center of the library. Blistering heat lashed against the floor and turned the stone ashy white. A strong gust buffeted his back as the furnace sated its hunger. He watched the sand intently as he spun the sphere on its axis. Deathweaver pushed, pulled, and kneaded it like bread as the wind grew into a gale and the fire turned from red to blue and to white.
There…
Deathweaver heaved and a tube of glowing red glass emerged from the furnace. Another followed it - and another - until a long line of beakers, mixers, and test tubes floated past him and hovered in a circle. His brow furrowed as he solidified an insulation enchantment around the glassware. A levitation enchantment followed it before he set them into a slow revolution above a table.
A ripple in the mindscape stole Deathweaver's attention. He froze and looked inward to trace the disturbance. There, a void. Deathweaver examined the frayed thread where a mind and soul had been torn from his network, and he plucked at the most recent memory.
A diamond dog carefully descended the cliff face. One paw stretched in front of the other. It did not want to damage its shell, for it knew that it was far more valuable as a laborer and a soldier than a scout and assassin. The diamond dog finally reached the bottom of the ravine.
The ravine was several meters across - too far to jump. The ghoul looked up through the mist and recognized the outline of the rope bridge. In front of it was the far wall and a flight of… stairs?
The ghoul grumbled.
A glimmer caught the ghoul's eye. It turned toward the mouth of a cave from which warm light radiated. Prismatic lights danced across the ghoul's face, and it grinned. The Master would appreciate gems. Gems are good for many things.
The ghoul lumbered into the cave's mouth.
Pain. Fire. Burning.
Cold.
Deathweaver blinked, grimaced, and ordered a quarantine of the ravine before he trotted out of the library. He stood in the ravine below Castle Circadia after few minutes of navigating the castle's halls. The cave opened before him like the maw of a lion awaiting its next meal.
He rolled his shoulders back and marched into the cave.
Deathweaver found the ashes of the ghoul a few paces in, and his skin crawled with the ambient magic in the air. It felt like mosquitoes or flies caressing his skin. He stood in a kaleidoscope filled with greens, blues, reds, yellows, and every color he imagined that danced along the walls, ceiling, and floor. The light was warm like a summer afternoon, yet cool like a spring brook, as it seeped into his body and churned the bile in his stomach.
Deathweaver allowed his disgust to simmer and froth as he ground his teeth and growled deep in his throat. The fire engulfing his horn burned with new vigor as his blood boiled. His hooves slammed into the ground with every step, cracking the earth, and cast waves of necrotic energy over the floor. Shadows twisted and writhed as the two magical auras fought against each other. Blackened and blighted scars were left in Deathweaver's hoof-steps, and the dancing lights healed them in his wake.
The pale alicorn stepped into a massive open chamber. He squinted at the inferno of harmonic magic that filled the room. Chimes filled the air, like music, even as his flesh burned in the cursed light. Deathweaver embraced the scorching agony that riddled his skin with pus-filled blisters and used it to focus his mind.
A crystalline tree stood before him. Its canopy stretched to the roof of the cave while its roots sprawled across the floor. The bark sparkled like polished glass and the flesh beneath burned with divine fire. Leaves, like razor sharp gems, hung from its prismatic branches. Edifices of the sun, moon, and stars ordained its trunk. Deathweaver, feeling his eyes boil, was forced to look away. He saw numerous black brambles protruding from the walls on the ground. They smoked and burned but did not recede.
You do not belong here, Outsider.
The Voice shattered through his wards like a tsunami of boiling water. It reached down through his burning flesh, peeled him apart, and spoke into his soul. Tens of thousands of tortured souls recoiled from the Tree's presence, and Deathweaver voiced their pain with a blood-curdling howl of fury. He spread his legs, dug his heels, and stood his ground against the Tree's onslaught.
You, and He who has sent you, both shall fail.
The wave of harmonic magic slammed into Deathweaver again, but he held firm. He rose to his full height and met the Tree with his determined gaze.
"I do not fear you, abomination," Deathweaver snarled through cracked and bloodied lips. "Neither do I fear Death. No, I have embraced it - conquered it. If you mean to strike me down - here and now - do so, but I will return. I will crawl out of whatever abyss you throw me. I will tear apart whatever armies of demons and angels you set against me. I will rise again, a hundred times stronger than before, and I will trample those who stand against us - the forgotten dead."
I know who you are, lich. Your place in the Weave has already been revealed to me. It will not be by my hand that you will fall. That is not my destiny.
"So…" Deathweaver sneered. "I will need to conquer Fate as well, it seems. Send your pawns to me, abomination. We will see who triumphs."
Deathweaver spun on his hooves and stormed out of the cave. His legs quivered, but his stance was steady. The necromancer's flesh was burned, blistered, and bloodied, but he stood strong in the pain. Once outside, Deathweaver reeled to face the cavern. He roared with a voice like thunder that shook the earth.
Tremors seized the ravine and the earth growled as the wall cracked and sundered. Dust, rocks, and boulders tumbled from the cliff face as if carved away by a giant invisible hand. The cavern entrance sagged as if flinching from the destruction, before being buried by the landslide.
Twilight trotted down the dirt path to Sweet Apples Acres with each step kicking up a small cloud of dirt into the air. Her tail swished merrily as an open brown paper sack levitated beside her. Half of a chocolate chip cookie bobbed in front of her face - the rest of it sprinkled across her muzzle or being chewed in her mouth. Twilight hummed appreciatively as she bit through the crunchy exterior of the cookie and into the warm and soft sweetness within. The chocolate was still warm, but not scalding, as it dribbled down her chin. She quickly wiped it away with a flick of her magic.
She popped the other half into her mouth after swallowing the last bite. Twilight eyed the rest of the bag and pouted. Her ears splayed back in indecision. Finally, she folded the bag closed and stuck it in her saddlebags.
I'm sure Spike would like some… Better save some for him.
An open gate greeted Twilight at the entrance to the farm. It stood several body lengths away, a grand archway hanging above it with the big, printed letters of Sweet Apple Acres painted across the sign. A mailbox stood proudly beside the gate. Brown wooden fencing stretched out from the gate and continued past the hills. Rows upon rows of trees stood in rigid formation beyond the fence like a stalwart phalanx of soldiers guarding the border to their realm.
Twilight took a moment to admire the craftsmareship of the fence and gate before she trotted through. She was flanked by two walls of trees that stretched high above her head. The unicorn peered through the trunks, but the orchard extended far beyond her sight. Large and juicy fruit hung from several trees ripe for the picking. For a moment, Twilight was tempted to sample one, but one nervous glance down the road quelled her curiosity.
The sweet scent of apples saturated the air, but there was something else - something she couldn't identify - that made her nose wrinkle. Twilight had remembered smelling it two days ago, when she had first stepped onto the farm, but she never had the chance to ask about it with her muzzle stuffed with pastries.
A loud crack interrupted her musings and she froze. Her ears swiveled as she scanned the tree line. Twilight's heart slammed against her chest like a hammer.
Crack.
There it was again! Twilight cautiously tip-hoofed further into the orchard. It wasn't long before she lost sight of the path, but the persistent noise reeled her in. She was sure she could find her way back. The rows were in straight lines, so she would be able to simply pick a row and follow it… right?
The sound grew louder, and it was accompanied by… singing? She couldn't make out the words, but it was definitely somepony singing a tune. Twilight crept closer until a flash of gold poked out from between the rows.
Applejack stood in front of the trees. Her burnt orange coat glistened with a glossy sheen while her mane was tied up in a bun underneath her Stetson. Several empty baskets were placed around the tree in front of her. Twilight glanced around and saw a wagon stacked with baskets full of apples.
Twilight smiled warmly and stepped out from behind the tree. Applejack spun around, coiled her back legs, and-
"Hey, Applejack!" Twilight called out.
"Gyahh!" Applejack snapped out her rear legs at the tree, but completely missed the trunk and sprawled onto the ground with an oomph.
"Oh my gosh!" Twilight galloped to the dazed earth pony. "I am so sorry, Applejack! Are you alright? I didn't mean to startle you. I just walking along the road - your gate was open, I swear! - and I was coming to visit when I heard this weird sound. I didn't know what it was, so I went to go look. Then I found you and I said hi and nowyou'vefallenandprobablymadatmeandI'msorrypleaseforgivemeI-"
"Jumpin' June bugs, Twilight!" Applejack rose to her hooves and shook her head. "Settle down there, Sugarcube. Ya just startled me is all. Ah didn't think anypony else was out here. Whatcha doin' all the way out here, anyhow? Not that it ain't good to see you, or anythang. Ah jus' wasn't expectin' ya."
Twilight barely heard her through her hyperventilations. Her body seized, stiff as a board, and her eyes were glued shut hard enough for a bizarre kaleidoscope to spring up behind her eyelids. Why wasn't Applejack yelling at her? She had callously interrupted her work with her inane chatter, and now she was going to fall behind on her quota. If she couldn't get enough apples, they couldn't make enough money, and if they couldn't make enough money… then they couldn't buy the supplies they needed to grow more apples. Thanks to Twilight, the Apple family would be sent on a downward spiral of destruction that would leave them broken and penniless and it would be ALL HER FAULT!
"Twilight!"
Twilight peeked through her hooves. Applejack stood in front of her with her hooves clamped on Twilight's shoulders painfully. It made her squirm. Her big green eyes, like bright emeralds, were wide with worry for the panicked unicorn.
"Twilight." Applejack spoke softly, yet firmly. "Come back now, ya hear? There we go… It's alright… You didn't do nothin' wrong. Everything. Is. Fine. Just breathe. That's it. In… and out… In… and out…"
Twilight listened to Applejack's voice. It was strong, yet gentle, and reminded her of her mother's soothing tone whenever she would have her panic attacks. After several minutes, Twilight's breathing became steady and strong. She looked up at Applejack through tear-rimmed eyes and saw a warm and supportive smile.
"There… All better?"
"I-I…" Twilight stammered. "I'm sorry…"
"It's alright, Sugarcube. You did nothin' wrong."
"But… I interrupted you! You were working… and I'm keeping you from your chores."
"They ain't going nowhere." Applejack smiled. "Ah was just about to take this load over to the barn, anyhow. Ya wanna join me?"
"O-okay…" Twilight nodded.
"Alright. Let me just get this last tree."
Twilight watched as Applejack walked back to the tree. The earth pony squinted at the bark with an appraising eye. Twilight leaned over to follow her example, but all she saw was the rough grooves of the tree's thick hide. She knew that Applejack was looking for something, but she could not fathom what. Perhaps damage to the tree? Maybe there were parasites under the bark. Twilight opened her mouth to ask when Applejack nodded stiffly.
"Eeyup. Here it is. Back up, Sugarcube. Ah don't wanna accidentally kick ya."
Twilight backpedaled several paces as Applejack jumped in a half circle, landed on her front hooves, coiled her back legs, and bucked the tree with a sharp crack that sent shivers down Twilight's spine. Scores of apples fell from the tree's bows and landed in the baskets surrounding the trunk.
Twilight's jaw unhinged as dozens of mathematical formulas spun through her brain. How was it possible? Dozens of lines and graphs filled Twilight's inner eye as she visualized the force projected by Applejack's kick, approximate resistance of the tree, and the trajectory of the apples as they fell perfectly into the waiting baskets.
"How…? What…?" Twilight blinked.
"Hmm?" Applejack tilted her head. "Oh! Ah don't suppose you've ever seen applebucking the old fashion way, have ya? City gal and all that. Well why don'cha help me put these here baskets onto the cart and Ah'll tell ya about it on the way to the barn?"
Twilight nodded excitedly as she levitated half of the baskets into the empty spots of the cart. Applejack blinked at the display but resolved to double her pace for the other half. A moment later the cart was full and Applejack pulled the harness tight over her barrel.
"Well, Sugarcube," Applejack said as she started pulling. Her shoulders sagged under the weight, but her voice and stride were strong. "What do ya know about earth pony magic?"
"Well…" Twilight hummed. "Each tribe of ponykind has their own signature brand of magic. In contrast to a unicorn's magic, which is considered active, an earth pony's magic is considered to be passive. Studies have shown that an earth pony's magic is intrinsically tied to their strength and constitution. It becomes stronger as they work and is rejuvenated in the same manner as the physical body. In addition to providing the earth pony with extended endurance and strength, it can also interact with the ground and cultivated plant life."
"Sounds about right... Ah think." Applejack blinked. "Us Apples have been cultivating this land for generations - ever since Ponyville was founded, actually. Our magic… Darn, our very soul has bled into this orchard along with our sweat, blood, and tears. We have an understandin' with it, of sorts. As long as we take care of it, it'll be fruitful. With the trees… Ah guess you can say it's a bit of a game of sorts. We have to work for their fruit, ya see. Ah have to find just the right spot and then buck it just right. But, it ain't just these rock-hard calves goin' hoof to root with them there trees. We gotta put our heart into it. Our magic pushes against the tree's own little bit 'o magic, and if Ah win the shovin' contest… It gives up its fruit."
"That's absolutely fascinating!" Twilight gushed. "So you can actually enter into thaumo-empathic communication with the trees?! I've read about it, but it's mostly just been theories!"
"Well, shucks." Applejack rolled her neck and grinned. "Ah wouldn't say we thamo… empy… whatever it is… but for an earth pony farmer, every plant they cultivate carries a little piece of themselves. Ah suppose that little piece gives 'em that little spark of life, y'know? It don't work very well on wild trees, like in the Everfree, or if you bring a new earth pony into the mix. That's why us Apples prefer to work our fields by ourselves. It takes time to introduce a new pony to the orchard… Time we often don't have."
"But…" Twilight frowned. "Industrialization in agriculture has been a standard for decades!"
"Yeah, Ah've read about their so-called 'advanced farming techniques.'" Applejack snorted. "Sure, them industrial farms are able to produce a lot more and hire a bunch more workers, but what they don't tell you is all the little things they do to improve the crop. Since you don't have the same group of ponies workin' the fields year after year - decade after decade - the magic becomes… wishy washy… y'know? The heart and soul going into it is just watered down, and it shows in the taste of the fruit and the health of the tree. So then they bring in some unicorns to cast a bunch of hocus pocus on the trees to get rid of disease and bugs, then again after they pick it to make it taste better."
"But… studies have shown that spell-enhanced crops aren't any different, nutritionally, from traditionally grown ones."
"Yeah…" Applejack rolled her eyes. "Studies done by unicorns and earth ponies paid by unicorns. No offense to your kin, Twi, but y'all just don't know farmin' like we do. Unicorn magic, having too many ponies get in on the growin'... it taints the fruit, y'know? Sure, those spells might do wonders for mass producing food in the short term, but what about a hundred years down the road? What's all that leftover magic you've been scarfing down your whole life gonna do to you when you're a wrinkled old mare? What about your foals? I can't imagine all those spells slinging around, designed to kill whatever's trying to kill the fruit, would be good for anypony to eat for years on end."
Twilight frowned and walked in silence. She remembered her courses in Canterlot, how every unicorn scientist had raved about the new farming technologies that would feed a hundred times more ponies than before. Sure, there were a few old professors that hummed and hawed over it, but they were standing against innovation… against progress… against science!
…Weren't they?
Applejack and Twilight emerged from the trees. A two storied farm house stood a few dozen meters away with white fencing crisscrossing the clearing between her and the house. Chickens scurried along the trodden grass beside the road where they scavenged for seeds, insects, and whatever else they could find. Enormous swine, nearly as large as Twilight, lazed in the muck of one of the pens. Goats and sheep gnawed on fresh hay bales.
Twilight looked past the farmhouse where a tall barn stood against the verdant backdrop of the orchard.
She smiled at the idyllic scene, closed her eyes, breathed in the country air…
… and nearly vomited.
She lowered her head as tears swelled in her eyes. By Celestia, my nose! It burns! Twilight coughed and hacked into the ground while AJ stopped and patted her back with a hoof. Applejack's smile twisted into a bemused frown.
"Ya alright there, Sugarcube?"
"Uhhh…. Oh, Celestia…" Twilight sniffled. "What is that stench?!"
"That, little Miss Canterlot," Applejack guffawed, "is the smell of a well-maintained farm. Manure, to be specific. Something tells me that you probably can't find this perfume in the city."
"Oh, Maker, no." Twilight raised her head. Her eyes still watered while her nose scrunched up like a raisin. "The nobles would riot if this smell was anywhere near their manors. The only place where you would ever smell waste would be in the lower city - even then only if a sewage line was busted. So you just… leave it lying around?"
"Eeyup." Applejack nodded. "That's what the pigs are for. We feed 'em the scraps from our kitchen and the apples we can't do anything with and we use the manure for the garden and our Zap Apple trees. Don't worry none, though. We always wash our produce before taking it to market. As for the smell? Well, Ah've grown up with it… So Ah don't really make much of it no more. Ah'm sure ya will too after a few months in Ponyville."
"Oh, that reminds me…" Twilight shook her head as AJ pulled the cart towards the barn. "I spoke with Pinkie Pie this morning. She mentioned that your family helped build Ponyville?"
"Eeyup. We sure did! It was a group effort, though. Ya see, my great-grandpappy was the one who found the Zap Apples. He was good friends with Mr. Rich's grandpappy, and they went into business together. We Apples would do the farmin', and the Riches would do the sellin'. Ponyville eventually popped up after us."
"That's fascinating…" Twilight nodded as she helped open the barn doors. "So you're close with the Riches?"
"Sure are! Our families have been thick as thieves for generations. We've grown prosperous in the good times and supported each other in the bad times. They're practically family."
"It's… really amazing that you have those kinds of connections. Up in Canterlot, it's survival of the fittest. You only have friends as long as somepony else can get bits or influence from working with you. Then, once you start taking on water and they smell blood? They swarm you like sharks."
"Despicable." Applejack snorted. "Ponies aren't meant to live like that. It just ain't natural. So why did you ask, anyhow?"
"Well… I have some time until the train from Canterlot comes with some of my things." Twilight pawed the ground sheepishly. "I was hoping, well, since you know this place so well… you could give me a tour?"
Applejack grinned. "Well, shucks, Twi! I'd love to show you around. Let's get this load into the cellar first and tell my granny where we'll be and then we'll head out."
The two of them formed an efficient system. Twilight, with her telekinesis, floated the baskets through the barn's door, down the cellar stairs, and into the storage area. They drifted along in a single file line, bathed in purple magic, to where Applejack nudged them into place. Applejack locked the door to the cellar after a few minutes before she trotted up to the farmhouse.
"Hey, Granny!" Applejack poked her head through the door and shouted. "Ah gotta head into town for a little while, but Ah'll be back for lunch!"
Twilight heard a muffled reply respond from somewhere beyond the door before Applejack shut it. She smiled at Twilight.
"Well, we better be off! Ah got lots to show ya before your train gets here."
"Good thing I brought my saddlebags so I could take plenty of no-wooaaaooooh!"
Twilight's hooves went numb as the ground quivered beneath them. It built into a crescendo that gave a violent jolt and rattled her knees.
"Land sakes!" Applejack straightened from her widened stance. "What under Celestia's sun was that?!"
"I… I don't know! There aren't any fault lines near here, last time I checked. Have there ever been any tremors around Ponyville?"
"Only near Ghastly Gorge, when the quarry eels are out and about. Maybe they, Ah dunno, dislodged somethin' underground?"
"It's… possible… Come on, we should go see if everypony in town is alright!"
"Good idea!" Applejack nodded as they jogged down the road.
Willow stepped out of Thicket and into the morning fog. His step was lighter than the dragonfly that hummed over a nearby flower and his stride was as swift as a spring brook. The young buck pranced through the underbrush until the village was swallowed by the fog in his wake. He swiveled his ears and listened to the early choir of birdsong.
The fog clung to his coat like oily fingers. Willow tried to peer through the mist, but it was thick, heavy, and drenched in shadows. His fur bristled and he quickened his pace. There was something unnatural in this forest - something tainted. He knew that dark things dwelled in the deeper recesses of the trees. Spirits and predatory aberrations often preyed on the unwary and weak, but the ancient magic of his folk was reliable in keeping the horrors at bay. They had also learned long ago to stay away from the forest's edge for fear of incurring the wrath of the Unconquered Sun.
But this… His ears flattened as the wind whispered taunts and threats to him, This is something else. This doesn't know fear… Only hate… and hunger.
A black maw snapped at his throat as Willow exploded through the trees. He galloped hard as angry, blood-red eyes sneered at him from the shadows. Claws splintered a tree on his left. He jumped right. The fog swirled and chains rattled.
A howl pierced the air and his heart.
Wolves made of nightmares and rage swarmed him like wasps. Sweat drenched his body. He still felt them on his haunches. Willow snapped out his hoof like a viper but was rewarded by a long gash across his leg. It was like slipping into a frozen lake in the dead of winter. His stride staggered, but a ravenous bark urged him onward. He fought through the pain and ignored the numbness in his leg. Left, right, over the log, another left. Maybe he could outmaneuver them.
Willow ran. He pushed his legs with every ounce of strength he possessed. His heart threatened to burst from his chest. Still, he ran. Only death awaited him if he dared rest. Sweat, tears, and dirt clouded his vision, so he listened for the rustling of the leaves. The buck opened his heart to the forest and it guided him.
There! Was that light ahead? Yes. Willow had reached the edge of the forest. A cottage beckoned him with a single lantern. It promised salvation.
Snap!
Willow crashed into the ground. He tumbled, spun, and smashed his face into the dirt. White-hot pain blinded him as his muzzle caved in with a sickening crunch. Bile rose in his throat as he heaved the contents of his stomach onto the blood pooling under him. The buck screamed, but the trees only heard a whimpered gasp as mucus, vomit, and blood strangled his throat.
He turned to face his pursuers. Beneath the sea of shadows and burning red eyes, he saw the crumpled remains of his leg. Sharp, white bone stabbed into the air above his fetlock. Blood gushed from the wound he could not feel. Only the cold dread of death filled his eyes.
"No… No…" Willow whimpered. "Please…"
The wolves descended on Willow. Claws raked his body like icy-hot knives that set his flesh aflame. Jagged teeth ripped into his stomach. A jaw clamped onto his neck, crushed his windpipe, and stole his scream. Agony engulfed his body as he was ripped apart and his entrails spilled onto the forest floor. The last thing Willow saw was the distant glow of the cottage before it was replaced by teeth and hot blood.