“Spiiiiike~?” Twilight Sparkle called nose deep in a book. She waited a couple of seconds before calling out again. “Spiiiiiike~?”

When her call went unanswered a second time, she sighed. She shut her book and peered over to Owlicious, who sat patiently on his perch. Twilight gave him a firm nod. Owlicious took flight, only needing to fly a singular floor up.

There he found Spike, laid in an awkward position in his small bed. Owlicious hovered over the sleeping baby dragon and prodded him with a claw. No change. Owlicious hooted loudly. Spike answered back with a snore. Having given up, Owlicous picked Spike up by the tail and airlifted the drake down to Twilight’s face.

“Spike ‘the Dragon’ Sparkle,” Twilight commanded. Perhaps because of the use of his full name, Spike woke up with a sudden start. It was only then he realized he was dangling a couple of feet in the air.

“Hehe, I overslept, huh?” He asked sheepishly.

“Hoot.” Owlcious replied in Twilight’s stead before he unceremoniously dropped Spike to the ground. Spike landed on his head, his tail draped over his portly body.

“Spike, I need you to deliver a letter,” Twilight ordered. She levitated a scroll over to the drake. She then pulled it away when Spike was about to blow fire on it. “Not to Celestia this time, Spike. I need you to deliver this to Zecora.”

Spike sat himself up. “Zecora? You mean the zebra you thought gave you the floppy horn?” He struggled not to smile at the mere thought of the event. Twilight sighed.

“Yes, that Zecora. Not my proudest moment.” She muttered. She flew the letter into Spike’s claws. “I had Princess Celestia secure another ticket for her, partly as an apology, but also as a chance for cultural exchange.”

“And Owlicious can’t deliver this because…?” Spike asked.

“Well, for one, Owlicious has been up with me all night.” Owlicious perched himself on Twilight’s flank. He gave an exaggerated yawn. “He deserves a little rest. And you’re supposed to help me during the day, remember?” Twilight cocked her brow.

“Yeah, yeah.” Spike stood up, dusting himself off. “You do remember that the Everfree is a dangerous forest, right?”
“Correct.” Twilight agreed and levitated another piece of parchment to Spike. Spike unfurled it to find a messy map of the Everfree’s interior. “This route is the safest path to Zecora’s home, by her instruction. Do not wander off that path.”

“Uh-huh,” Spike responded, tucking the scrolls under his arm. When he looked back, Twilight was almost nose to nose with him.

“Do not wander off the path, Spike. I’m serious.” She backed away after her point was made. “Owlicious won’t be around to find you again.”

“Come on, Twilight!” Spike begged. “That was only one time. I’m not a complete baby. I can take care of myself.”

“Well actually, according to my research, you are still a baby dragon, Spike.” Twilight corrected, trotting over to Spike. She bent down to nuzzle his cheek. “And even if you weren’t you’re still my baby dragon.”

“Ugh, gross,” Spike said with a faint blush. “I’m gonna leave now before you say other mushy stuff.” Spike headed for the door.

Twilight giggled. “Alright then. But remember, do not-”

“-wander off the path. I get it.” Spike closed the door behind him. He let out an exhausted sigh.

“I’m not a baby…” He muttered.

No matter what time of day you entered the Everfree, the forest’s canopy blocked nearly all light that entered it. The forest, defiant of the will of the ponies around it and perhaps even the land itself, remained in a near-constant state of darkness.

Spike stuck to the depicted path in the map, the only path where the sunlight passed through an opening in the trees unobstructed. In truth, it was a better guide than even the map itself, what with its lack of clarity and insistence on every line being a rhyme.

“Follow the golden path, where the light chose to flow. Take a left at the gnarled fern, where the flowers refuse to grow.” Spike read aloud. “I think Zecora has a problem. What does a gnarled fern even look like-”

Spike tripped and landed flat on his belly. With a groan, he stood up. “Stupid forest. Would it kill you to pick up after yourself?”

As Spike dusted himself off, he glanced back at the thing he tripped over. The nature of the object in question quickly took his interest.

“An arrow?” He questioned as he bent down to pick it up. It was a crude thing. The arrowhead was misshapen and asymmetrical. Half of the shaft was broken off.

“Who would make something like this?” Spike whispered in disbelief. As if to answer his question, the cry of an animal echoed through the forest, its origin not too far from where Spike was. “Come on, Spike. Nothing good can come from investigating a crying animal in a dense, dark forest.”

As much as Spike wanted to run away, ditching the letter for Zecora to find herself among the grass, a morbid curiosity overtook Spike. Perhaps it was the curse of a quizzical mind he undoubtedly inherited from Twilight. Something about the arrow was uncanny, even for the Everfree. This means that in a forest as otherworldly as this one, something even more eldritch dwelled in its shadows. Who could resist such an ominous call to adventure?

Spike carefully stepped off the path of sunlight into the bushes of the dark.

It did not take long since stepping away from the path for the light to vanish almost entirely. Spike was fortunate to possess some level of sight thanks to his dragon heritage, but the thought still unnerved him. Before, the forest was relatively quiet, the occasional chittering insect or the call of a bird. Now, the forest was alive with sounds. The barks of distant dogs, the snapping of leaves and timber under Spike’s feet, and…the crackling of a fire?

Spike focused on that noise, as fires don’t usually start on their own. Someone-or something- was nearby. Spike crawled on all fours, giving himself the maximum amount of stealth he could muster. He followed the crackling until he could see a faint orange hue emanating behind a bush. Slowly, Spike parted the bush and peered through it.

A figure sat in what looked like a makeshift campsite, complete with a campfire, a worn grass tent, and a small stream flowing next to it. The figure, with its back, turned to Spike, was hulking even as it sat. Draped in a large cloak, with tears and holes, it was impossible to discern what it was doing. That was if Spike’s eyes hadn’t wandered around. Next to the figure, by the log, it sat upon, amassed a pile of bones and the pelt of a small mammal. Over the fire was likely the source of the crying animal, a dead hare roasted over the open fire.

Spike’s breath grew ragged. He didn’t mean for it to, but the overwhelming sight before him sent him into a state of panic. There was a genuine monster, one the likes of which he never read in any storybook. Spike, with intense regret of seeking the creature, backed away from the bush.

The rustling of the foliage caught the creature’s attention. Its head swiveled, staring directly in Spike’s direction.

Spike stopped. The creature slowly reached behind the log it sat on. It pulled a long, crude spear made from the same materials as the arrow. The shaft was thick, the stone tip jagged. Its purpose was clear: to kill whatever the creature wished.

Spike turned and broke into a full sprint. He screamed, the sense of keeping quiet having left him. His stubby legs carried him as far as he could, as fast as they could. Spike raised his arms in front of him to push away the foliage that stood to oppose his escape.

The sounds of footsteps could be heard behind him. It sounded like a whole pack of the creature were chasing him.

That couldn’t be right, could it? Spike thought to himself. How could there be more of that…thing!?

Spike hazarded a glance behind himself, only to immediately run into the face of a cliff at full speed.

Dazed and concussed, Spike’s world became off-kilter. Like a table with two short legs on opposite ends, it rocked back and forth as Spike stood. Spike turned and rested his back against the side of the cliff, briefly having forgotten the danger he was in. He was reminded when the sounds of growling came from the glowing eyes surrounding him.

Three large beasts stalked out of the shadows before Spike. They had no flesh but were made from stone and timber. Their glowing emerald eyes illuminated their sharpened teeth. They were of a different horror than the bipedal monster, but no less dangerous.

Spike turned back to the cliff face, hoping that maybe, just maybe he could climb his way out. He had the claws for it. Unfortunately, the cliff was concave in such a way that towards the peak, it hung over him, leaving his feet without places to take hold. Spike, alone and in danger, did the only thing he could think of.

“Twilight!” Spike cried out loudly, a desperate plea for a savior.

This must’ve angered the timberwolves, as one leaped forward, its jaw unhinged. Spike closed his eyes and braced for the unknown.

THUNK!

“Thunk” wasn’t the sound Spike thought would be the sound of being eaten alive. Then he realized he was still alive enough to have the thought. He cautiously opened his eyes, only to find he’s very much standing where he was a minute ago. The wolf that nearly killed him laid a few feet away from him, pinned by the torso by a huge spear.

Spike took notice of the other timberwolves, who seemed more interested in the larger foe behind them: The monster from before.

The monster bellowed in a language at the timberwolves, clapping what looked to be claw-like appendages of flesh together. The sounds annoyed the wolves and they sprinted toward the monster.

The monster kicked one directly in the face, causing the face to splinter and the wolf to fall backward. The other leaped over the wounded and tackled the monster to the ground. The monster held the wolf back with its arm caught in the wolf’s jaw. With his free arm, it grabbed a rock and dashed it against the wolf’s head. The monster then pinned the wolf itself and repeatedly bashed the wolf’s head, grunting with a low, deep voice.

Eventually, smoke began emanating from the wolves, steadily blocking Spike’s vision. He remained stunned, unsure of what just happened. However, through the smog, Spike could see the monster approaching him. Spike caught a singular glance at the creature’s face. All Spike could see was a solid green color and an odd symbol where the facial features would be.

Spike turned and ran. He ran and ran and ran. He ran until he soundly run anymore. He collapsed in a field of green, bathed in sunlight. A meadow. Spike laid there for a while, to catch his breath.

After a while, when he’s sure the wolves nor the monster followed him. He sat back up and stared into the Everfree Forest. Questions echoed and bounced inside the drake’s head, but one question echoed the loudest. Spike finally spoke it.

“What just happened?”

Author's Note

Each chapter will have a little monochromatic sketch to go along with it because I can and it’s cool. This one is inspired by the short “There’s a Man in the Woods” , which is a very awesome short but it’s only relation is title deep. These first few chapters will capture the “First Contact” portion of the story I briefly glimpsed in the original fic.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new take and if you don’t, frankly I don’t give a damn. This is a story where I plan to be as cringe and true to myself as I want, no doubts attached.