All was silent in the 16 bit world, besides the occasional lowing of a cow or the impatient clucking of a chicken. The plains biome was, for the most part, devoid of any plant life taller than the waving grasses.
This silence was suddenly broken as a large Clydesdale horse flopped face first onto the grass, seemingly appearing out of thin air. He took a long moment to realize what was going on- two dull green eyes blinked slowly at everything. A few moments later another pony appeared, this one small and grey with a blonde mane, tumbling ungracefully down the other’s back and landing on its own back, wings outstretched. Its two eyes rolled, and it mumbled out a garbled sentence.
“I just don’t know what went wrong!”
The Clydesdale sat up and readjusted the piece of hay in his mouth, raising his head to look at the sun, and then looking back to the ground at his hooves, the thick yoke around his neck settling on his shoulders with the action.
The other pony seemed content to stay on her back, eyes askew.
“I don’t think we’re in Ponyville anymore.” It said, one eye rolling at the thick set horse. He nodded and answered;
“Eeyup.”
Finally the grey pony rolled over, stumbling to her feet, her movement as uncoordinated as a puppet’s controlled by a child.
Big Macintosh and Derpy Hooves had been putting together a special surprise for Big Mac’s sister Applejack. The streamers had been set, Pinkie Pie’s cake was glimmering with edible glitter, and the punch was as perfect as it could be. The two ponies had only just begun hanging the welcoming banner, Derpy’s flying threatening to tear the thin material, and Big Mac’s sturdy form threatening to tip the ladder. They really hadn’t been the best two for the job, but everypony else had gone home.
And then in that simple flicker of time it took for Derpy to derp things up, she had done so. She had gone careening towards Big Mac, the ladder had collapsed, and both ponies had gone hurtling towards the ground at frightening speed. It was one of those moments when you wished Rainbow Dash was nearby to catch you, but there was no trace of the sky blue pony in the few seconds the two ponies thought they had left.
Then all of a sudden they had ended up here, in this strange world full of cubes.
Derpy looked up. One eye drifted with a cloud, the other followed the path of a stray chicken.
Meanwhile, Big Mac had occupied himself by wandering towards the nearby forest, drawn towards the similarity it had to Sweet Apple Orchards.
“These’re apple trees.” He said, peering up into one’s branches. He tapped the trunk with a hoof, then turned and gave it one single, strong kick with his back legs. Instead of the rush of apples, like he had expected, he heard a faint ‘pop’ and a smaller version of a wood block hovered and revolved between the bottom and the upper trunk of the tree.
Big Mac turned and puzzled over it for a second. He gingerly picked it up and was about to place it on his back when he noticed the sudden appearance of two plain canvas saddle bags on his quarters.
‘Convenient....’ he thought to himself, and tossed the weightless block in one of the pockets. He did this to the rest of the tree, and was pleased when his results did yield a few apples.
He then returned to Derpy, and began wordlessly working on refining the wood. He’d no idea how long they would be here, and as a work horse the only thing he knew to do now was to work. And with Derpy Hooves here as his only companion, there seemed to be plenty of it.
He did not resent the mare for her lack of effort. She did try to help, but after being pushed aside for so long had learned it better to simply stay out of the way.
He worked far into the day, fetching more wood when needed. The tree dropped saplings as well as the occasional apple, and for this Big Mac was thankful. At least they wouldn’t starve.
Some of the wood he fashioned into temporary tools, using them to collect stone and coal, throwing these into piles as he crafted walls for the home. He placed the last block on the roof as the sun began to set. By now the Clydesdale was coated in a sheen of sweat and night’s cooler air was a sweet relief.
He nudged Derpy Hooves to her feet. The mare had watched construction with a wondrous expression on her face, and now trotted eagerly into it. It was right after he closed the door that the noises started.
What sounded vaguely like the mooing of a cow, mixed with garbled and twisted ponytalk, was muffled by the wooden walls of the cabin. The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees more, a chill pervading throughout the small house. Even Derpy was silent now, her heart beating frantically inside her chest, her drifting eyes spread unnaturally wide.
Big Mac hesitantly peered out one of the windows, his hooves producing solid echoes from the wooden flooring.
Bipedal beings milled about the grass which had been clear of all but livestock only that morning. Their cloying, sickly sweet smell filled the air, tainted with the odor of rot. Derpy trembled, and mumbled, “Zombies.”
“A tale for colts...” Big Mac rumbled under his breath, refusing to believe what was so plainly right before him.
Other, stranger beings of more or less limbs meandered about as well. They gave Big Mac a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He pressed his thick muzzle against the window, steaming the lower half, and blinked, willing himself to blame this on too much work in a day. It was known to make a pony hallucinate.
Grimly setting his jaw, he decided he would continue as if the things weren’t there- and they weren’t, he said to himself,- and by morning they would all be gone. There was no such thing as zombies, and whatever those other strange things were. Figments of his overworked mind, is what they really were; like fog on a muggy spring morning.
He turned his back on the window and instead began crafting chests. He had just enough wood for a big one, and began meticulously placing items inside, wanting to keep his mind occupied for as long as possible. It wasn’t the groan of the undead he’d just heard- merely the wind straining the trees. When Derpy opened her mouth to ask him something, Macintosh only grunted in response.
Finally, he pushed the chest back against the wall, and inhaled the scent of freshly cut wood. It was done. He was exhausted, but it was done.
He sagged thankfully against the wall and fell asleep almost immediately, his last impression of Derpy looking out the window with a frightened eye.