The hierarchy of the Everfree was simple: the strongest ruled and the weaker survived. This balance was delicate, but since the entire forest understood it, the order was rarely challenged.
Even the deer, who fancied themselves guardians of nature, knew that the Everfree was greater than they could ever be. Whether they would admit it or not was irrelevant.
There were many mighty beasts in the Everfree, but none were so feared as the timberwolf. Timberwolves were large creatures made of wood animated by the Everfree’s wild magics. They resembled wolves in a somewhat vague sense, and their green eyes pierced the darkness of the trees. They were not the biggest beasts, nor were they the smartest, but they ruled the Everfree all the same.
Among the timberwolves one stood out as the alpha, larger and older than any other. His might was so feared that even the Stardust Pony of the Moon had not dared to turn her spells on him, even after returning from the moon she was careful to keep out of his way. Although the havoc she brought to the Everfree meant that he would have had to deal with her had the ponies not succeeded.
After the Stardust Pony was subdued, the ponies continued journeying into the Everfree, but they rarely did anything worth his attention. The one thing he did care about was their effect on the Striped One.
The Striped One had entered the Everfree many moons before the ponies, and had done her best to become a part of the forest’s harmony. She spoke in a similar tongue to the ponies, but her words sounded almost musical to him. After the ponies accepted her into their pack, she would sing once every so many sunsets. He liked that sound and would often curl up behind the tree that made her nest when he knew that she would be singing.
Although he could vaguely understand the speech of ponykind, the Striped One’s singing was something else. It was a beauty he had never heard, a sound of refined softness in a forest of primal strength.
There were times however, that he could not spend a night listening to the Striped One. As rulers of the Everfree, timberwolves were responsible for maintaining its order. Most issues would solve themselves but occasionally something would happen that required a timberwolf to restore harmony. As the oldest and most intelligent timberwolf, he was often the one to fight off whichever beast had decided that it should rule the forest.
He knew that someday he would not be the strongest timberwolf, his age would catch him and his bones would rot. But that was the natural cycle and he would never seek to deny it, even as afraid as it made him feel when he felt his joints creaking as he moved through the trees.
Still, his strength had not yet failed, and the Everfree’s balance was being disrupted. After the ponies stumbled into the Young Hydra's lair in the bog, it had become angry and violent. He had hoped that it would calm down on its own, but with the hydra’s attack on a nest of ghost crabs he had to accept that he needed to intervene. Ghost crabs are docile creatures unless provoked and the Young Hydra had needed to go out of its way to reach them.
While the bog was not considered part of the forest to the ponies or deer, the trees that make up the bog were born of the same magic as those of the Everfree. The same magic that breathed life into the timberwolves. The animals understood that, and respected it.
The timberwolf moved swiftly through the forest, unencumbered by his size and weight. He was slowed some by the bog's terrain when he reached it, but he needed to take a slower, quieter approach anyway. The sun was setting and the hydra should have been preparing to sleep. If he could reach it without it noticing him and waking up, then he might be able to subdue the Young Hydra without a fight.
Stalking carefully towards the Young Hydra's lair, a deep cave at the edge of one of the larger murky ponds, the timberwolf could smell rot and decay within. Hydra were the type to take trophies to mend their pride, but usually shiny items rather than flesh. This hydra must have been nose-less to stand the stench.
He stopped outside the cave when he heard the sounds of eating, sharp breathing and tearing flesh. Pricking his ears, he listened for the sound of teeth. He was able to differentiate no less than five sets of teeth, but there were probably more heads than that. Hydra were generally smart enough to leave at least some of their heads undistracted at any given time during a meal. Of course, hydra were also smart enough to eat fresh kill, something the Young Hydra had clearly not learned.
Realising that it wasn't going to sleep, the timberwolf decided to draw the Young Hydra out of the cave. He knew that it would have an advantage in the marshy terrain, but still favoured the bog to the confined cave that was likely just as marshy.
Once he was a good distance from the cave opening he let out a series of challenging barks, strong and assertive.
A multi-voiced growl sounded from within the cave, clearly warning the challenger to back away.
The timberwolf offered another sharp bark in response.
After a few moments, the Young Hydra's heads left the cave, followed shortly by the rest of it. It had nine heads in all, three of them were injured in small ways and one of them was missing an eye. Its scales were a murky brown and seemed to be rotting in some places. Despite clear damage, the Young Hydra was still strong and proud.
Angered by the interruption of its meal, the hydra wasted no time before charging. He jumped out of its path and lashed out with his claws, narrowly missing one of its heads. The hydra bit down on his outstretched arm and tore it off his shoulder. Having caught him off balance, the Young Hydra grabbed him with its heads and began tearing the timberwolf apart.
Throwing the timberwolf's shredded and limbless chest to the ground with a splash, the Young Hydra turned back to its cave.
Tendrils of green magic reached out from the timberwolf's chest to gather his shattered parts and reassembled his broken form.
The timberwolf rushed towards the hydra and leaped onto its back, his front claws digging through its scales and into its shoulders.
The Young Hydra roared in pain and reached behind it with its heads to pick up and throw the timberwolf against the upper lip of the cave's entrance.
His back struck the stone and he grunted as he fell into the water. He stood, digging his claws into the soft mud at the bottom and making his displeasure known with a growl.
The moment that the Young Hydra moved towards him, he jumped at it and snapped his jaws down on the throat of the head that attacked. He ground down with his teeth and thrashed until the hydra’s other heads managed to rip him in two and dislodge his jaws.
Reforming again, the timberwolf saw that one of its nine heads was hanging as dead weight. Removing a hydra’s head was a temporary solution that made the situation worse soon after, but simply killing a head worked quite well in his experience.
He had no time to revel in his small victory as the hydra charged. This time it attacked with two heads at once, giving him no chance to catch just one like he had before.
When a head came snapping at him, the timberwolf bit into its open mouth and caught its bottom jaw. Its tongue bled profusely as it tried to pull its head back. The second head tried to bite at his neck, but he hooked his claws into its nose before the head could find purchase. With his other front paw the timberwolf struck the first head's jaw while pulling back. The result was that he stumbled backwards and lost his grip on the second head.
The first head gurgled in agony while the timberwolf spat out its lower jaw and a large section of its tongue. The second head let out a vengeful growl for its disfigured and bloody nose.
Seeming to realise that its normal attack patterns were failing it, rather than continuing with them, the Young Hydra reared up onto its tail and attempted to crush the timberwolf beneath its large claws once it got close to him.
He had not been expecting such an attack and yelped as his body was broken and ground against the bed of the pond.
Done with games, angry, and in pain, the Young Hydra ripped his foreleg off before the timberwolf could fully reassemble it. Whenever he got close to healing a limb or his head, the hydra would tear it apart and throw it aside.
The timberwolf stopped trying to reform himself, and fell limp.
The hydra opened his chest, but seeing no signs of life it let the body fall. It lumbered towards its cave but stopped when it heard the sound of cracking wood.
The timberwolf's jaw reformed and he barked another challenge. The hydra charged with pure wrath in its heart, smashing down with its claws, lashing with its tail, and snapping with its jaws. Through it all the timberwolf ducked and dodged, occasionally getting struck but always inflicting more meaningful injuries than he received.
Enraged and injured, the Young Hydra once more attempted to crush the timberwolf. This time the timberwolf knew what was coming and as the hydra fell he reached his right foreleg up. His claws pierced a patch of rotting scales and impaled the hydra’s chest. One of his claws broke apart on a rip, but the others slipped past and drove deep into the hydra.
The Young Hydra screamed as its heart was torn open. It lashed out with all of its limbs and dislodged the timberwolf, but that only made the blood spill all the faster. The hydra fell onto its side and its heads let out a final piteous wail, and then it moved no more.
He watched as the murky water turned a rusty orange, but soon enough the timberwolf began running back towards the denser part of the Everfree Forest.
The Young Hydra would become food for the bog and its inhabitants, but the timberwolf was more concerned with getting back before the moon rose too high. If he was swift enough, he could potentially catch the end of the Striped One’s song.
