Jungle Fever

Mac cussed under his breath as he worked on the tractor’s engine. He wiped at his brow, sweat pouring down his face despite the pleasant morning.

He hadn’t expected to blow this much time already; then again, he hadn’t expected a blown gasket either. Hell, if he didn’t get it fixed right quick, Jack would come strolling into the barn at any moment and–

“Yer still workin’ on that damn thing?” the unmistakable twang of his sister asked. He gave a small frown and glanced away from his work, towards the woman.

“Eeyup,” he agreed, disgust heavy in his voice. She laughed, moving past the barn’s entrance and deeper inside.

“Got the hogs slopped fer ya. Reckon’ I’d take the lion’s share a work today ‘cause of–” she gave a knock against the hood of the tractor, then smirked at her brother, her green eyes sparkling in bemusement as she stared up at the tall man. “Dunno why we keep the clunker, bettin’ the repairs cost more than it’s worth.”

“Do ya have any extra cash to spend on a new one?” he asked dryly, cracking his neck as he gave a hard stare at the tractor. “Damn thing just won’t run right.”

Jack put down the bucket she was carrying and gazed at the machines guts, giving a curious humm as she tilted her stetson back on her unruly blonde hair. “Pistons?” she guessed.

“If only it was that simple,” he said, running a worn gloved hand through his orange hued hair, unintentionally getting oil on his forehead. Grunting, he wiped the stain with his well muscled forearm. “Might have to head to town to get more parts.”

Applejack shook her head and brushed a thumb across her nose. “Broken tractor, fence is fallin’ apart, one of the cows jus’ had her calf–still gotta grab it from the field, not ta mention how close it is fer harvest season. Jus’ can’t get a break no-more.” She flashed a wry smile, walking past him. “Wonder if pa ever got discouraged ‘bout the place...”

“That’s the farm life,” he answered simply, sniffing slightly as he sighed deeply. Sometimes it was the simple answers that spoke the loudest, and Mac was a proud practitioner in this art. “Did Bloom head to school yet?”

She loaded her bucket up with some dried feed in the back. “Ain’t got no idea, Mac. I’ve been out here since ‘fore the rooster crowed this mornin’. Why don’t ya go an’ check? Steppin’ away helps me think sometimes–’specally when it comes ta fixin’ shit.”

“Just remember not to curse so loudly like that with Bloom ‘round here somewhere,” he reminded her, stepping out in the sunlight of outside the barn, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the bright light. Walking a couple more feet, he shouted, “Hey Bloom, ya ‘round here! Gotta head to school now!”

“I’m a-comin’, I’m a-comin’!” the high-pitched voice of the youngest of the Apple family announced. She rounded the corner of the barn, loaded with a picnic basket filled to the brim with various plant leaves, flowers, and a pair of apples. She bounced forward, her young face all but pleading with Mac. “‘Fore I go ta school, can I take these over ta Miss Zecora? I promise ta head right over ta school afterwards!”

Mac shook his head. “Sorry sweetie, but yer already late to school. Ya better head on now ‘fore the teacher gives ya detention. Plus, you know how I don’t like ya heading into Everfree Forest without me protectin’ ya.”

She looked up at him, her eyes watering and her lower lip jutting out. “Pleeeease? Zecora needed these fer a potion she was makin’.”

Mac chuckled, ruffling her bow-tied, red hair. “Like I said, ya have to go to school. I’ll deliver this stuff fer Zecora myself.” Winking at her, he whispered, “Also, if ya wanna know how to be good at beggin’, ask yer sister. She’s been pullin’ the same stunt on me fer years.”

“Spoilsport,” Bloom pouted, her expression turning back to normal as she stuck out her tongue. She gave a glance down the dirt road leading off the farm and into town. “Alright. Ya jus’ tell her I said ‘hello.’” With that, she adjusted the backpack she wore and took off, looking cute as a button in her overalls and sneakers.

Mac smiled as he picked up the basket she left him. Now he had the perfect excuse to head to Zecora’s place. His smile only grew wider as a slight blushed formed on his tanned, freckled cheeks. Jack came by, and paused on seeing his expression.

“What’s got ya so rosy in the cheeks?” she asked, raising a brow and setting down the feedbucket. She reached into her jean pockets, producing a small pack of gum, which she chewed absentmindedly. Giving up smoking had been good in the long-run for her, but that addiction had been replaced by another.

“N-nuthin’,” he muttered quickly, removing his oil stained work gloves and wiping his hands on his red flannel shirt. “Sun must be gettin’ to yer eyes.”

“I’m thinkin’ it’s more ‘long the lines of someone gettin’ in yer noggin’.” She smirked, putting a hand to her chin in mock thought. “Maybe a potion maker?”

“I don’t know what yer talkin’ ‘bout,” he replied back hastily, hiding his face from her so she wouldn’t spot his flushed cheeks. Damnit, even the thought of her caused him to blush redder than an apple.

Jack’s grin widened, it was all she could do to avoid cracking up when he was acting like such a boy. “If ya say so, Mac.” She blew a bubble, still staring at him with her keen eyes. “Jus’ figure if it was, I might be willin’ ta work the rest of yer jobs today. Her hut’s a decent hike from here, an’ I wouldn’t wanna spoil anythin’ that might happen.”

“Nuthin’ is gonna happen, alright!” he defended himself, glaring at her. “I’m just gonna head on over, deliver these flowers, and be right back before the sun has moved an inch in the sky.”

“Keep tellin’ yerself that, pardner. Might be true one of these days.” She paused, something dawning on her. “Though I need ya ta cover me two days from now–we’ll call it square if ya do that.”

“Why do ya need that, Jack?” he asked with an arched eyebrow at her. She blushed, glancing away.

“Uh...” she trailed off, trying to worm her way out of this mess.

She never was the best liar.

“M-might have a date myself,” she lamely finished with a weary gaze upward.

“First off, I don’t have a date,” he reminded her sternly. His eyes softened for a moment as he leaned closer and ruffled her hair, much like with how he did it to Bloom. “And look at this, Jacky’s got a date. My little sis is growin’ up in the world.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a light sock to the arm. Despite this, she had a small smile at his teasing, mostly due to how true his words were.

After their parents died, it had been up to her and Mac to take care of their sister. Sure, granny helped, but she was just so old and fragile, and had been for years. The older siblings had been there for one another every step of the way to their adulthood, and nothing would change that.

Even if neither would admit it.

“Yeah, yeah,” she scoffed. “An’ how many dates have you been on, Mac? Do I even need two hands? Heck, even one to count them all?”

“I’m too busy to date and ya know that,” he said, swinging the basket in one hand as he grew impatient to go and see Zecora now. “So, um, well... if ya don’t need anythin’ else, I’ll shove off fer now.”

“Go fer it. I’ll hold down the base,” she said with a mock salute, before hoisting up her bucket and heading off. She gave one last glance behind her. “Jus’ make sure ta invite me fer the weddin’.”

Mac’s mouth hung open as he thought of up a proper reply to such a statement, but eventually he just pressed his lips together in a hard line and left the farm. His work boots kicked up dust as he strode angrily past the farm gate, his anger simmering for a moment as he thought about spending some time with Zecora.

Okay, he might have a little crush on her. I mean, who wouldn’t? She was beautiful, exotic, cute, smart, and always an interesting person to talk to. But it’s not like he wanted to ask her out or anything. He was way too busy with the farm and taking care of his family to have a relationship. Besides, what would she see in a country bumpkin like him anyways?

Still, though... she had always proven to be one of the most dependable women he knew. The amount of times his family had relied on her natural remedies and tonics to cure ailes was almost depressing. Not so much for her potions–they worked like a charm–rather, it was sad that his family couldn’t help but get their damn fool selves hurt or sick on at least a bi-monthly basis.

Mac rubbed his head, thinking of how a few months back he came down with bronchitis after working in the rain. Zecora came to their house as soon as she heard the news and gave him an odd smelling concoction that he wolfed down. Sure, it tasted like shit, but it fixed him up good–far better than the modern stuff he could have gotten at a doctor’s office. And the only payment she took for that was a home-cooked meal.

The man gave a small laugh at the medicine woman’s actions. Ever since Zecora came to live in the area, she had always taken care of the Apples.

One day, he hoped the Apples would take care of her.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he observed the entrance to the Everfree Forest. The walk over was quicker than he expected, so he was hesitant upon entering the shadow ridden woods. The forest always gave him the creeps, with its dark foliage and intimidating interior. Not to mention all those hidden bumps in the night that could mean a dangerous creature out to chew off his hide.

“Damnit Mac, man up,” he muttered to himself, scrunching up his face and staring with a determined expression at the darkness of the forest. With a purposeful stride he made his way inside, not bothered by how quickly he was hidden in the shadows and how suddenly the sun disappeared overhead.

Really, the forest wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. Except for the odd glare of predatory eyes in the bushes or terror inducing growl from somewhere close by, it was almost a pleasant walk. Plus, Mac just kept Zecora on his mind so he wouldn’t be scared shitless. Hey, sometimes hormones beats out rational fear. Which wasn’t always the best of things, but whatever.

He sighed in relief when he finally reached Zecora’s hut, the familiar look of the masks and smoke coming out of the roof having a calming effect on the tall man. Walking up to the animal skin curtain, he knocked on the side of the hut in a polite manner and called out, “Hey, Zecora, ya here? Bloom wanted me to deliver these flowers and stuff fer ya!”

Mac waited a few moments. On hearing nothing, he called out one more time. “I’m comin’ in, alright?” He lifted the skin and peeked his head inside, noting the large cauldron, bed, and a few odds and ends items of the medicine woman’s, but no Zecora. Pulling his head out, he thought for a moment. Had she somehow headed to town without him seeing? No. There was only one path out, the foliage was far too thick to try and take a shortcut, save for that clearing, so where...?

Gettin’ herbs. His gut told him. He gave a nod in agreement. A part of him said to wait for her–the woman knew how to take care of herself. The other part felt like it was the duty of a man to take care of a woman, even if she could handle herself. And they said chivalry was dead. With that in mind, he walked inside and dropped off the basket, before turning around and heading out.

Mac did have one talent, aside from farm work. He was an experienced hunter. Ever since he was a little kid, he’d travel with his father all over their lands, taking shots at crows and foxes. That fondness grew to bows and rifles. He’d spend hours with his pa finding game. Even with his dad gone and buried now, Mac would still try to find time on rare occasions to search for the odd deer or two.

It was time to see if he could track humans as well as animals. Searching on the ground, he smiled fondly as he saw familiar footprints belonging only to Zecora. Seems the tracks were leading to the small clearing by her hut. Nodding to himself, he dragged himself through the thick foliage of the numerous bushes and other plant life by the side of her hut. He could’ve taken the small path to the clearing, but this was a shortcut. Besides, his jeans were already plenty filthy, so some grass stains weren’t going to make much of a difference.

Lifting up a branch and ducking so he wouldn’t get his face cut up, a spot of sunlight in the distance warned him of the approaching clearing. Trudging faster through the branches, he finally got within distance to see what was happening inside the clearing. And there was Zecora, leaning down to pick some strangely colored flowers in a patch near the end of the clearing.

“Hey Zecora, fancy meetin’ ya here!” Mac called out confidently, stepping into the clearing... and falling on his face. Seems a vine caught on his other foot and caused him to trip. He groaned slightly, mentally chiding himself for making a fool of himself in front of her.

“Macintosh, what a surprise! Is indeed odd, seeing you here with my eyes!” She waited for a moment as he rose. “Why you didn’t use the path, if I may ask?” the ebony skinned woman gestured to a nearby dirt road. “Wandering the woods is no easy task.”

Quickly brushing off the worst of the dirt stains from his flannel shirt and jeans, he chuckled lightly. “I, was, um... just wonderin’ where ya were. You weren’t in yer hut, so I decided to come on down by here to see where ya were.”

“Simply gathering from the trees. The day is a fine one that I felt I should seize.” She bent down, putting a handful of leaves of all shapes and sizes into a basket. Zecora rose, brushing off her light grey robe and looking Mac in the eyes. “But to travel here and to my hut–is something wrong–are you in a rut?”

“N-no, not in a rut,” he assured her, blushing slightly as he took notice of the dark skinned woman more closely. The first thing that always caught his attention were her eyes. Turquoise, intelligent and all but oozing with warmth and empathy. They were just a piece of the puzzle, however. Her free-falling, long and silky, gray-with-white striped hair (Or was it white-with-gray stripes? he thought for what had to be the hundredth time since he grew to know her), the exotic, flawless brown skin that reminded him of milk chocolate. Her cute, round nose, her ears, graced with large hoop earrings that gently danced in the morning breeze, along with her golden necklaces, and her mouth. Wide, sensual, warm, beautiful–Mac could stare at her mouth all day when she spoke. He sucked in a breath, nearly overwhelmed at her presence. She simply tilted her head and crossed her arms over the loose-fitting robe that hid her beautiful body from the man.

“Are you alright, Mac? You seem to have gone a little slack,” she said, looking with obvious concern at him. If she was beautiful on the outside, Mac couldn’t even put into human words how she was on the inside. If it had just been lust for her body, he would have never felt like this–like he was just a few steps away from drowning every time she spoke.

He gulped, his throat suddenly going dry on him. “No, nuthin’ wrong. I just dropped off some plants Bloom was gonna deliver earlier at yer hut. She told me to tell ya ‘hello’ from her. And now I just wanted to, um... say howdy?” A drop of sweat hit his eye, but he still tried to smile as nonchalantly as he could while his insides felt like they were going to tear himself apart. Damn, his cheeks were probably blushing by now too. She gave another concerned glance his way.

“It’s a good thing you came for me to greet,” she stepped closer, reaching up to put a calloused, yet well-maintained hand to his forehead. “It looks like you have a fever’s heat.”

“What? No-no-no-no-no!” he said quickly, backing up but wishing he could get closer. He could still feel the faint touch of her hand on his forehead, and he knew he’d only blush deeper because of it. “I’m not sick or nuthin’, so don’t worry ‘bout that, okay?”

“I see,” she dubiously replied, then glanced at her basket. “While you are here, then, perhaps you can help me?” She pointed to a tall tree nearby with a single, oddly speckled blue rose grew on its branches. “I could climb up it myself and take flight, but perhaps you can reach it, due to your height?”

“Sure, I would love to help ya!” he agreed readily. He coughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, seein’ how I got time and all...”

“If you would give me a hand, my Macintosh, that’d be grand,” she readily agreed, putting her hands together and giving a small bow of her head.

“Ah shucks, it’s nuthin’. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t help out a lady?” Still smiling his doofus (as his sister would call it) smile, he made his way to the tree, standing on his tippy toes to reach for the flower. His tongue stuck out of his lips as he grunted to reach higher, and finally jumped and snatched it from the vine, hanging off the tree branch. Turning back to her in triumph while still hanging from the branch, he waved the rose to her and said, “Hey, I got it!”

She gazed deeply into the woods, paying him no mind. “Macintosh,” she asked, taking a few careful steps backward from the foliage. “Do you have a gun?”

“Um, no, sorry,” he answered her with a perplexed expression on his face. “I don’t keep a gun on me while workin’.”

“Then I need you to get down from there, and run,” she instructed as calmly as she could, sweat gathering at her brow as she bit her lip.

“Um, ‘Cora, what do ya mean?” he asked, not yet noticing why she was acting like that. A deep, guttural growl behind him soon answered his question. It was the type of growl only a really large, hungry, and mean predator could make. And judging from the distance and how he felt a hot breath on the back of his neck, it was close. “Ah crap.”

Zecora reached quickly into her robe, producing a dagger. She clutched it tightly in her hand and crouched low. “Run, you fool! Don’t remain like a dumb mule!”

“Don’t need to tell me twice!” he shouted, swinging off the branch just as he felt razor sharp jaws close right behind his neck. Hot slobber dripped on the back of his shirt. Rolling on the ground to put as much distance between him and the monster behind him, he jumped to his feet and turned to see what exactly he was dealing with. “Ya gotta be fucking kiddin’ me.”

It was a manticore, a fearsome monster that usually used the Everfree for its hunting grounds. It was as if some bored yet immature god decided to mess with the natural world one day. It had the body of a lion, well toned muscles with knife-like claws and meat tenderizing teeth that was sure to rip prey to shreds. Along with that was its leathery bat wings, large enough to allow it to glide but not really made for flight. And to top it off was a deadly scorpion tail, the well armored insect appendage ending in a large stinger with acidic like venom dripping from the tip. One type of predator you did not mess, ever, if you valued your life and all your limbs staying on your person.

Zecora raised her knife and let loose a braying shout. She bared her teeth and threw her hands up above her head in an attempt to scare it off.

Mac held up his arms in a fighter position, his hands closed into white knuckle fists. He already knew he was screwed if that creature actually did pounce to attack, and there wasn’t much a punch or kick can do against claws, teeth, or a poisonous stinger. “Hey ‘Cora, ya got any ideas?” he whispered, not wanting to alert the manticore more than they already did.

“Treat it like you would a bear. Show the creature you don’t care!” she hissed back, raising onto her toes and letting loose a yell in a tongue Mac had never heard before.

“Well, that thing sure as hell ain’t no bear,” he pointed out, but deciding better of it, he went with her advice. She was sure smarter and more knowledgeable in these types of things than himself. Attempting to make himself appear larger by spreading his arms wide and hopping up and down, he shouted, “Hey, big and ugly! Fuck off! Less ya wanna ass whoopin’!”

The creature let out a roar and charged for the man. Mac lept to the side just in time, barely clearing the large range of the manticore’s claws and stinger, the razor sharp claws passing inches over his face. Zecora took to the fray, assaulting the creature while it was momentarily distracted as it landed on the ground. She jumped, landing on its back and plunging her dagger into its flesh right near its more vital organs. She rolled off of the beast just as suddenly as she struck it, avoiding the barbed stinger as it plunged into the creature’s own flesh. It whipped its tail around and swung the appendage, hitting Zecora square in the chest as she rose from the ground. She was launched several feet and tumbled for a bit before stopping in a moaning heap of pain.

“Zecora, no!” Mac yelled out, reaching a hand out to where she had fallen, before he turned his attention to the manticore and glared with aggressive intent at the creature.

The manticore roared and charged once more, intending to finish the medicine woman off. Mac charged at the creature from behind without a thought on how to stop it, just knowing that he had to protect the defenseless Zecora. He grabbed its bulbous stinger and dug his feet into the dirt, his feet dragging on the ground but with a mighty heave he kept the creature in check. It was halted mere feet away from Zecora and clawed fruitlessly towards the woman. In an attempt to escape Mac’s iron grasp, the manticore writhed its tail, cutting Mac countless times with its stinger on the man’s back. Each cut only increased Mac’s resolve to protect the woman, and he squeezed harder and pulled stronger than he ever thought possible.

“Is that all ya got, you no good varmint?” he shouted, sweat running down his brow as he gritted his teeth hard as his back muscles screamed in pain. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on, but as long as he stood on two feet he’d never give up. Not for Zecora.

He was rewarded by a loud tearing noise as the creature’s tail separated from its body, dragging along what seemed to be yards of the beasts innards. It let out a loud growl that slowly turned into a pitiful mewling as it began its death throes. Zecora stood on shaky legs, running over to the creature’s back and pulling out her dagger, plunging it directly into one of the manticore’s feral eyes.

The creature roared in intolerable pain, but Zecora gritted her teeth and pushed the dagger in deepy, blood running down the manticore’s face as more blood poured from the ruined eyehole. She pulled out her weapon and struck again. And again. The manticore’s face was now a mass of bloody wounds, large scratches on its eyes and throat. Eventually its roars and struggles grew weaker, until it finally fell to the ground and remained still, blood soaking in the dirt.

Its broken carcass of a tail fell to the ground too, Mac wiping some sweat from his eyes as he huffed and puffed. “Shit, didn’t see that comin’,” he panted, spitting on the corpse.

Zecora said nothing, instead weakly nodding as she looked over the farmer. Finally, she spoke. “The bleeding from your back and hand, were they caused by his gland?”

Mac looked himself over. The back of his shirt was ripped to shreds, long scratches on his back pointing to the obviousness that the manticore’s scorpion tail attacked him. “Eh, seems like it. But don’t worry, just a couple of scratches. Don’t even hurt too much.”

“I’ve learned not to ignore a threat. Let me treat you before the poison has set.”

“P-poison?” Mac asked, gulping deeply as he tentatively touched one of the scratches. Wincing slightly, his hand came back with blood and what seemed like vile green fluid too. “This stuff ain’t deadly, is it?”

Zecora said nothing, which definitely didn’t make Mac feel better, and instead she put an arm carefully around his torso and pointed towards where her hut lay in the forest. “Come along, we must be quick, it’s not too long before the poison sticks.”

Mac laid on arm gently on her shoulder. “But ‘Cora, what ‘bout yerself? I saw ya get hurt from that thing too. I gotta be sure yer alright.”

“The beast struck me like he did not intend. I simply got hit by the blunt end,” she stated matter-of-factly. She gave a small smile. “Come now, Mac, let us return... though be known I appreciate your concern.”

“Fine. Only if ya treat yerself after me,” he said, still worried about her health. Wincing slightly with each step, he walked with her back to her house using the path. On the way a cold sweat formed on his brow, along with Mac shivering slightly. He didn’t understand why, since it was so hot, so he guessed it was just the poison’s effects. Along with the fact it felt like salt was being poured on his wounds with each step he took. Things definitely weren’t looking so hot for him at the moment.