Boscage Dreams

"Ughmm..."

Something was crawling on Timbril's ear. Her head jerked up and her mane flew out around her, spraying particles of dust and dirt from the multicolored strands. The ear still twitched and a sneeze escaped her as all four of her elevated legs fell to the soil. She was lying on her back, hardly comfortable, with green eyes blinking up at the overbearing night sky above.

Pale light from the crescent moon illuminated jagged branches far in the air, much higher than she could ever reach. She pawed at the ground with her forehoof as if to test its ability holding her weight, then clambered to stand-- albeit shakily.

The pain in her stomach was gone. She didn't feel even the slightest trace of it, giving her hope that it wouldn't come back. She fell asleep in agonized knots who-knew-how-many hours before, focusing on the vivid emerald-and-brown shades of her cutie mark until she could no longer hold her head up anymore.

Something woke her up. A sound, like a shrill croon on the wind or something sharp carving the bark off a tree. Maybe both. Timbril darted a quick look around during her steady ascent down the slope, breaking out into a trot. A world of dimly lit shrubbery and winding dirt paths breaking off from the treeless clearing opened up in front of her, and no direction looked more dangerous than any other.

She closed her eyes once more like she was making plans to fall back asleep standing up, except this time she stuck out a hoof in front of her and chose without visual incentive. Her whole body teetered far left. She heard the sound of her feet plodding over the terrain before she realized she was moving again, which was when she reclaimed her sight.

A good thirty feet above her head, an owl hooted from his towering stance. Timbril nickered back. She high-stepped over a bush and hopped over a protruding root in the tough ground, all the while searching the foggy expanse of woodland she had yet to trod.

It swaddled her neck and head the closer she approached, but the fog was weightless. It obstructed her vision, however, so when she saw two bright chartreuse slits blinking out at her from within the next crop of trunks, she was thoroughly convinced for at least a minute that they were a larger, greener-hued species of firefly and that was that. Move along; Nothing to see here.

But, of course, they were eyes. Timbril faltered in her step and stared back. Her mouth was a straight, closed line, and her flanks visibly deflated upon her breath hitching in the way that it did. Two hooves were off the ground, and they stayed that way, quivering in midair.

A surprisingly strong breeze blew in. The eyes receded back into the shadows, and Timbril felt strangely more alone than usual. She didn't know who she wanted there with her to keep her company, but she certainly wasn't in the mindset to be picky.

In the very same direction the eyes disappeared to, she heard scuffling on the terrain. Dark figures moved about and fleeting streaks of smeared, glowing green happened past. That was, if one squinted. Timbril proceeded onwards, albeit slower. Her legs carried her through a shallow trench in the dirt between her stance and the crop. What sounded like a low set growl caught her ear, making the fair hairs in her coat stand on end.

The area smelled of something sour. Almost foul, but not terrible. She couldn't place her hoof on what it was, but it nearly deterred her from going any farther and that had to stand for something.

Imperceptibly, she began to hum. It was either a nervous tick or a casual habit, but she tended to only do it when she was concentrating. She didn't know what the song was; Songs were few and far between in these parts. How'd this one even stick, anyway?

And, speaking of sticks, a particularly sharp one dully dragged over the far side of her back, having snagged her. It made her wince, but the look of discomfort made way for wide-eyed confusion very soon; She was surprised when the tree to her right literally up and moved for her, to say the least. It was before she belatedly remembered that trees don't move on their own, so why--?

RrrrRAWF!

Timbril leapt away from the vicious noise but only bumped bodies with another warm, hard mass of breathing wall. The exterior of the beast reminded her of a tightly woven picnic basket, but with more leafiness seeping through the cracks. Wet breath fanned her mane around, effectively messing it up. The creature didn't have pupils in its eyes; Only beaming flashlights emitting malice. For her, namely.

"G-g-get--" Why she thought she could finish a full sentence, she hadn't a clue. She could barely get the first word out.

Wolves, born from the trees? She was not informed of this happenstance!

The wolf glaring down at her shifted his focus to the clacking and rustling of another of his kind charging in. He was bowled into, snarling ferociously on his way down to the forest floor. Timbril darted out of the way of his fast descending body and almost got crushed underneath it doing so. He was pinned beneath the claws of another wolf now, puffing out gross-smelling breath and seething solely at Timbril in spite of his very present opponent.

The victor roared, loud and for miles. The earth mare bearing witness to the action felt her ears ring. Every sense was heightened but no sweat collected on her brow.

During his time on the ground, the wolf terrorizing her swatted a paw out in a final attempt to bring harm onto her... and lost a leg for it. It was crunched under the weight of the topside wolf's paw, and with the jerky movement the two fighters separated with a scared yip from one and a haughty chuff from the other. The mean beast jackknifed away down the narrow path Timbril hadn't dared go yet, leaving her alone with the first wolf and her rescuer.

They smelled of pine. They varied in size, but the one who came to her aid had to have been at least fifteen feet tall. They had wagging fronds for tails and noses wetted with sap. One touched his to her shoulder and a string of the golden-brown ooze came away. Timbril turned in a woozy circle and fell back onto her rump, dazed.

'Thank you,' she mouthed the words, because her vocal cords were having trouble keeping up with her thoughts. She received a gentle poke to the shoulder with a long, jagged claw. These two didn't advance on her like that other one did, but their menacing fronts were still there, intimidating her with silence.

A whole throng of chartreuse lights flickered on in the backdrop, glittering eerily. Dapples from the canopy leaves reflected in each attentive eye as they assessed her all at once. A carnivorous crowd stared back at Timbril-- a pack-- and she wasn't under the impression that she was unwelcome.