Author's Note

Content Warnings: Holes, Cults, Gardening

Cultivate the Fields

Timber Spruce spread seeds amongst the tilled field rows. He ensured that each was firmly packed into the soil. The extra effort was excessive, but that little bit of care ensured a better yield in the long run.

Sun filtered through the thick foliage of the Everfree Forest overhead. He felt content, between the slow morning and honest labour. The first in what felt like—

“No! Please! No!”

He ignored the helpless pleas of another unwilling body being dragged along the ground. A wayward traveler that had drifted into the Everfree and made the mistake of not leaving right away. In the past, he might have felt some measure of guilt and shame, but now he only had unhappy resignation.

“Rejoice!” The congregation member said as they dragged the victim toward their doom. “You have been chosen as a Repository! There is no greater honour!”

Sobs were the poor sod’s response.

Eventually he would be called on, but the fields still needed tending and the longer he could put it off the happier he would be. No need to ruin his good mood immediately.

Continuing in his momentary ignorant bliss, Timber looked over the saplings from his previous cultivation in the next field over. It brought a smile to his lips to see the tiny sprouts poking through the soil. Soon they would—

A growl interrupted his train of thought.

Looking up, he came face-to-face with a timberwolf. It glared at him, teeth bared and body tensed.

“...Fine,” Timber said. “Tell my sister I’ll be there soon.”

It skulked back into the shadows.

Despite not wanting to attend, Timber got onto his hooves and ambled his way toward the main compound.

“Welcome, my little saplings! We have brought you here today to sow the seeds of our future!” Gloriosa announced.

She stood on a raised platform, bright pink against a wall made of tree trunks. She was standing on her hind legs, forelimbs raised in jubilation.

A resounding cheer. Timber Spruce didn’t join. He was instead focused on the poor sop bound to the floor by ropes, with their mane pulled up and neck laid bare to his sister. Tears rolled down their face. He just barely heard them begging to be released over the rowdiness of the crowd.

Another glance around the room. The timberwolves were close, peering through windows with glowing green eyes. There would be no escape for them.

“Tonight, we shall reap what has been sown, then spread anew.” She gestured toward one of the members of the congregation. “Come forth, Bitter Root. Ready yourself for the reaping!”

The aforementioned pony approached, a warm smile on their face. Once close enough to the stage, they turned to have their back facing Gloriosa.

There were holes in their back, filled with plump green sprouts ready to burst from their fleshy prison. They were so full that he could see the red rawness of the skin near the edges. It made him want to scratch the similar holes along his own back.

“Now, welcome our benefactor with a warm greeting, Mother!” Gloriosa continued.

“Mother!” The congregation cried, raising their hooves up to the leafy ceiling above.

It appeared, called down by its flock. A bark-textured head attached to a membrane-like vine thrice the size of himself ringed by a massive crown of dark green leaves. Long ‘arms’ of vines and leaves descended with it. The ‘head’ opened. A singular eyeball with eyelashes of jagged teeth. It clacked its eyelids together in some sort of sick greeting.

The new victim’s cries turned to profanity.

“Reap!” Gloriosa shouted.

“Reap!” The congregation echoed.

‘Mother’, or ‘Abomination’ as Timber preferred to call it, grasped the seeds embedded in Bitter Root’s back. Bitter stayed perfectly still and quiet as the monster yanked the seeds out.

As it did a muzzle formed from the leaf folds, followed by a head and tiny body. The newly born timberwolf began to croon.

“Another successful harvest!” Gloriosa declared. Her face was flush, eyes unfocused. “Now, for the sowing!”

Seeds were plucked from the Abomination’s gross eye. Like teardrops off a normal face. It moved them toward the exposed pony’s back, readying to bury them into their new soil.

Contact. Screams. Timber walked away. He couldn’t watch.

“Glory. This needs to stop.”

Gloriosa paused. She had just entered the back room that was reserved only for her and him. It was heavily laden with various herbs that made the air thick with a noxious sweet scent.

“What do you mean?” Gloriosa tilted her head to one side. “We’re thriving thanks to the blessings of Mother.”

“That thing is—”

“Mother,” Gloriosa corrected.

“I don’t care! This has been going on for too long.”

“Too long? That implies there is a stopping point.” She graced him with a too-wide smile. “We must grow more timberwolves to ensure our longevity. That is the path Mother has paved for us.”

“By sacrificing innocent ponies!”

“...Why is that wrong?”

Timber stared at Gloriosa in disbelief.

“They are offered to Mother to continue her progeny. Each new repository strengthens Mother’s grasp on the Everfree and, by extension, our place here.”

“Glory, where has your sense gone? Where’s my sister who just worried about our campsite in White Tail Woods? Who wouldn’t have fallen for this cult-like cra—”

She was right in front of him. Her head, despite being shorter, was right in his space and her smile too far stretched across her face. Her eyes bored into him, a mad glint in them.

“Be careful, Timber. I can only allow so much slander toward Mother, before you being my younger brother becomes irrelevant,” she said. “Watch your words.”

Cold dread caused Timber to shake. He never would have imagined being afraid of his own sister, but… things were different from before. She was taken by this utter insanity and changed accordingly.

She heaved a sigh. “Look. Take some time for yourself. Tend to the crop gardens you love so much. Get your head on straight then you’ll find all of this is fine. Good even! I would hate to lose you, Timber.”

Gloriosa hugged him. He hugged her back. After a while, she pulled back.

“Now, I have things to tend to. You’ll be fine on your own?”

Timber nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good. Do what I suggested. You’ll soon see that this is the right way of things.”

Then she left.

Timber stayed still, taking in deep breaths of the putrid air. It was a lot to take in, but he knew that none of this was his sister’s fault. It was that thing’s fault.

He needed to get her away from it. Far away. Reasoning with her was clearly impossible. That left plan B.

Some matches will go a long way toward ensuring their escape.