SCAR
Chapter II

Peaceful.

That's the only thought going through my head right now. Funny, I thought it'd be a 40 caliber piece of lead. The thought made me chuckle a bit, that's when I realized I was breathing. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't control them. I sighed, trying to move anything. I couldn't.

Great, I thought, I went and missed and now I'm paralyzed. What a shitty way to go.

With that thought I drifted off to a fitful sleep. I'd had this dream before, more like a memory, but every time it happened just the same. Sprinting down a dusty highway, being chased by mutts.

A man ran for his life, dark brown hair messy and unkempt as it whipped in the dust storm. He was too terrified to rest, but he knew he couldn't keep running for long. Behind him, a pack of feral mutts snarled and nipped at his heels, poisoned by radiation. Their hair had long ago fallen out, and some had burns across their bodies. One in particular looked like the perverted love child of a zombie and a German Shepherd.

Half of its face was missing, exposing a sickening set of jaws as congealed blood bridged the gap from its gum line to its eye. It wasn't the first time he'd seen mutts, but it was the first time that he'd opted to keep his ammo in his backpack instead of his pants pockets. He couldn't stop to retrieve the ammo, and the magazines in his SCAR and P226 were dry from dispatching half of the group that was hunting him now.

Realizing that they weren't going to give up, Geoff turned and drew his blade. The mutts stopped, circling around him as their pack hunter instincts took hold. One leapt at him, an ankle biter, probably used to be a Chihuahua. He sidestepped it easily, stomping his foot down on its miniscule head as it gave a final yelp.

It was then that something odd happened. A blinding flash of light caused the mutts to wince, Geoff covering his eyes as he looked around for the source. Many miles away, he could see a fireball rising into the air, he cursed out loud, four months and the nukes were still falling. The shockwave reached him after a couple minutes, the dogs having ran off at the sight of the mushroom cloud. He took the opportunity to place his backpack down on the road, pulling out fresh magazines for his weapons and storing spares in his pockets.

Just before he put the backpack on, a sudden snarl caused him to spin. The leader of the pack from before, the zombie-shepherd, had leapt at his back. He couldn't dodge, couldn't bring up his weapon, just watch as the bitch would inevitably sink her teeth into his shoulder.

At that moment, the mutt froze in midair. Geoff looked around, noticing that everything had stopped moving. He moved his hand, knocking several pieces of dust out of the air. He looked back at the explosion, knowing that there wasn't any major target in this part of the state. After a moment of thought he figured that it had been off from its intended target.

As he turned back around to the mutt, a second figure caught his eye. It looked like a horse, but he could see a horn protruding from its head, and a pair of wings flared on its back. Slowly, it stepped forward, eyeing the mutt carefully before noticing Geoff getting to his feet.

With a regretful sigh, he drew his pistol. He brought a hand up to shield his face from any blood, and pulled the trigger. The mutt broke out of its paused state, body flying forward and rolling limply across the asphalt as the new creature looked at Geoff with horror etched into its feminine features. Without saying a word, it vanished with a small pop, and time resumed its normal flow.

I shot upright, sweating slightly from the recurring nightmare. It was different this time though, every other time that one mutt gets the drop on me, and practically rips my shoulder apart before I can get the knife through her skull.

My mind kept straying back to the horse thing, just what the hell was that? I sighed, running a hand through my long brown hair. It was messy, clumped together with mud and dirt from going months without any way of bathing. Water was too precious to waste on getting clean, so I just dealt with it.

Brushing it all off as a dream, I stood, grabbing my gear and getting ready to head back to the tower, when I suddenly froze. I looked myself over, realizing not only that I was completely fine, but more importantly, I WASN'T DEAD!

I almost jumped for joy, before coming to the sobering realization that I was still alone, in the middle of nowhere, with very limited supplies. I rifled through my possessions, taking stock. Still three bottles of water, one chicken and rice MRE, all my ammo, two IPods, speakers, a red lensed flashlight and a pair of emergency road flares. . . all my standard gear less three meals. I wasn't too concerned, the only reason I'd brought two in the first place was if I decided to chicken out before pulling the trigger and got lost in the woods.

I double checked my weapons and ammo, making sure that all my magazines were full, which they were. Next, I decided to look around and take stock of my location. The first thing I noticed was that the trees were not the same. . . at all. . . When I. . . passed out? I was in an aspen grove. Tall, white barked trees. Here, wherever 'here' was, was all thick, gnarled old wood.

I picked up my SCAR, taking a few minutes to disassemble it and clean the dirt from the barrel. It was something I'd formed into a sort of meditation, using the repetitive actions to slow down and form a plan. This wasn't the first time I'd woken up in a strange place, although this time involved considerably less alcohol.

But that's a story for another day.

I sighed, checking the barrel again as I began to rebuild my weapon. First on my to-do list was figure out where in the world I was, then find a town or city with a suitable base of operations nearby. After that, just settle back into my routine of scavving and attempting to make contact with someone. It had been what? Two years since my last human contact? I didn't even care if they were bat-shit crazy or not at that point.

One thing was bugging me though, if I wasn't dead, and I wasn't where I was when I tried to. . . do that. . . then who brought me here? And more importantly, would they be back?

I shook my head, leaving an arrow in the dirt pointing in the direction I was planning on scouting. If they were friendly, maybe they'd follow and help out. And if not, well I'd have to be alert for any hostile movement. Just like always.

A young woman ran up a mountain trail, tear stains on her face as the screams of her younger brother echoed in her mind. They hadn't seen the pack of mutts before they were on top of them, and he'd had their only weapons, save a machete that she carried with her.

There was a tower up ahead, she ran forward with renewed hope, clambering up the rusty steps. When she reached the top, she stopped cold. There was trash all around the small watch tower, water bottles and MRE packaging, as well as various pouches that used to contain electronic components. In a corner on a desk, was an old black notebook.

Curious, she stepped forward. Opening the book, she read the only two entries inside. She frowned, setting the book back down and turning to a fresh page, she began to write.

Geoff, if you read this, my name is Yyvan. I'm twenty three years old, and I'd guess that your most recent entry can't have been more than a week ago. I just lost my brother before finding this place, so I'm not really in the mood for writing, but I am going to take the water and food under the tower, if it's still there.

I can't thank you enough for sharing what you were blessed with, as it may just save my life this time. I hope you make it out of this alright.

Sighing, she closed the book, and headed back down to the ground. There was no sign of the mutts, and she found the pile of rocks described in the journal. Digging for a moment, she unearthed several MREs and the case of water.

A noise behind her made her draw her machete, spinning around to face whatever was sneaking up on her. Her face was hard and angry, before lighting up with joy.

Limping up the hill was a battered man, her nineteen year old brother. He had cuts and scrapes all over his arms, and in one hand was holding a bloody baseball bat. He was missing his silenced pistol, but he was alive. Yyvan ripped a water bottle out of the case and sprinted over to the boy, wrapping him in a tight hug, ignoring his slight hiss when she accidentally grazed one of his wounds.

She offered the dehydrated kid the water bottle, which he drank greedily before pausing and offering the remaining half with a guilty look on his face. In reply, she simply giggled at him, walking back over to the small stash and fishing out another for herself.

The two siblings sat back on the steps of the tower, laughing with each other and reveling in their new found luck. They grew quiet as a solitary pop of a gunshot rang out from down the backside of the mountain.

I cursed under my breath again as I tripped on another root, darkness had fallen much faster than I was expecting, and it appeared as though my trusty watch was off by several hours. I lit up the backlight and read the time again, 1345, so 1:45 pm. Unless I was in the arctic circle and it was the middle of winter, I doubted that it was anywhere near correct.

This forest though. . . it's not right. As soon as I began my scouting hike, every bird for miles stopped making noise. Nothing moved, nothing rustled, it was complete silence. Now, with the darkness of night, and nothing to see by but my flashlight, I swore that every shadow was another bandit looking to kill me.

It was like playing Day Z all over again, but with less zombies and more paranoia.

For example, I tell you that I'm dropping you off in a forest for the night, and that there will possibly be predators around and a 90% chance that any people you happen across will be hostile. Imagine how tense you'd be before getting left alone in the dark. Now imagine that you have no idea what's beyond three feet in front of you, and suddenly every little rustle of wind in the leaves or twig you step on and break becomes the fucking bogey man.

It was somewhere around forty degrees, Fahrenheit, so I could just see my breath steaming in front of the flashlight lens. I'd switched to my pistol, letting my SCAR hang from my side with the flashlight held in my left hand. I didn't want to mess with trying to aim the assault rifle and light at the same time.

Maybe if I find a sporting goods store they'll have an accessory rail mounted flashlight to fit my gun. I thought as I resumed my stalking. I swore for a minute that I'd heard something breathing behind me, but after ten minutes of crouching behind a tree in complete darkness, I felt it best to keep moving.

After a few more minutes I decided to rest, although I climbed a tree just to be safe. Lying in the crook of two branches, I stayed alert, deciding to wait until sunrise to keep moving. I wasn't tired, as I'd just slept for God knows how long, but I wasn't about to fumble around blindly through a thick forest. I notched an arrow into the base of the tree trunk, pointing back the way I came in case I forgot, and held my rifle close as I just sat and listened.

Sometime during the night, the moon arced overhead into a small gap in the canopy. I stared at it for a few minutes, captivated by its gentle glow. I noticed, however, that it was completely perfect. There was no scarring or craters like the one back home, just a pearly white ball hanging in the sky. It was haunting, to see something I looked to every night appearing so different than I remembered it, but it also seemed to give off a new aura of comfort and empathy.

I found myself wondering what it would be like to be up there, like the old astronauts, watching the Earth rise over the lunar horizon. To get away from all the danger and uncertainty here on Earth for just a day, or an hour. If I still had internet then, I'd probably go Google some pictures from the moon, or space. For some reason the Horsehead Nebula came to mind.

Hours passed, finally my watch read 0033, and the sun began to rise. It was much faster than I had ever seen, going from dark purple sky to full sunlight in only about an hour. That caused me some confusion as I simply glanced from my watch to the sky repeatedly, trying to make sense of the speed of it all. For it to rise so fast, apparently the world was spinning three times faster than it was yesterday, or the day before, or any day for the past four billion years.

I stared in wonder for a few minutes before trying to brush it all off as a trick of the light. Jumping down to the forest floor, I continued in the same direction I was going before. In the morning air, I quickly became aware of several hundred bugs trying to suck my blood, bastard little vampires. I came across a small watering hole, and decided to use the mud to try and repel the mosquitoes.

I marched on, passing through a few clearings filled to the brim with blue spotted flowers. I thought about picking one and smelling it, to see what a spotted flower would smell like of course, but they stood out just a bit too much in the gloomy forest. I assumed they were poison in some way, so I avoided letting them contact my skin.

So there I was, half a day into my second day awake in this strange place. Seated by a small river to refill my canteen and the three empty water bottles in my pack, I decided to let my feet air off a little. Peeling the black steel toed boots off of the appendages was a nightmare in itself, having no socks to wear sucked, and I only took them off for about an hour at a time on other days if I was feeling up to it.

My feet were in an ungodly state, cracked and split all over, my toenails were a sickening yellow and overgrown to the point that a few of them were interfering with the toes next to them. In those spots there were wounds seeping blood, and oh God did they stink.

I soaked the boots in the river, trying to get all the blood and sweat out of them. A trickle of red clouded the water the moment I set my boots in. I looked over my feet, deciding that it would be a good time to do some maintenance. I cut the worst nails with my knife, shortening all of them considerably, except for the big toe on my left foot. That one just peeled off with a sickening pop and a jolt of pain.

I gripped my bleeding foot in my hand, rocking back and forth on the ground until the pain receded. Blood was still pouring from the former nail bed, so I placed my feet in the crystal clear water for a bit to try and soothe them. I stripped out of my clothing while doing that, deciding that this would be the last time I wore underwear for a while as I saw the tattered state that they were in.

I couldn't even call them underwear really, more like an elastic band with some strings attached. I didn't care all that much though, and stripped out the elastic to hopefully find some use for it later, also taking whatever fibers from the rest of them that I could and saving it for tinder in a side pouch of my pack.

I sacrificed my shirt to make some sock-ish devices, mainly just to wrap the bleeding parts of my feet and keep them dry for a few hours. After a quick wash in the river, and re-applying mud from the bank anywhere my vest, pants and boots didn't cover, I set out once again. This time, I followed the river, hoping to find a town or at least have a reliable source of drinking water nearby.

The lack of wildlife was still strange, usually I'd have come across a deer or elk by now, or at least a rabbit. This forest, though. It was like the trees themselves were warning the animals of my presence.

snap

Or warning them of the presence of whatever was behind me.

I froze at the sound, the hairs on my neck standing straight up from under a layer of mud. I hesitated for a second, before spinning around and dropping to my stomach, bringing my rifle to bear on the tree line behind me. After a few minutes, I figured it was probably nothing again, and went to stand back up.

However, as soon as I was back to kneeling, a massive mutt came creeping around a few trees. I was unshaken by the new arrival, but this one was. . . different. Where skin and burn marks should've been, there was nothing but tree-like armor surrounding the animal. Where there should've been hungry looking eyes, was nothing but glowing yellow specks, and where there should've been ears or a tail, there were spidery looking branches.

I hesitated again, lowering my rifle a bit before the mutt gave a low barking-growl. From all around me, dozens more appeared, all staring at my kneeling form. I doubted my ability to fight them all off, especially if they were made of wood instead of flesh. I could take some down with my guns, but the knife would be useless.

A strange voice passed through my mind, "He who knows when he can and cannot fight, will be victorious." I was puzzled for a moment, wondering why that would run through my head as I aimed at the largest mutt's face. For a moment, we stared each other down, waiting to see what would happen.

Slowly, I came to the conclusion that my chances of winning the fight were slim to none. I lowered the SCAR slightly, never taking my gaze away from the eyes of the gigantic six foot tall mutt in front of me. It walked forward, slowly. Something about its posture seemed submissive, like it was having second thoughts about eating me.

I felt a tingling feeling in the back of my mind as the mutt approached, and then a voice spoke from inside my head.

"You show no fear, small one. Most prey would've attempted to run by now, and yet you hold your ground. Why? Do you not fear for the loss of your life?"

My eyes widened in shock as the mutt's head tilted with the question. The only reasonable theory for it was that he was the one speaking to me. I sighed, deciding that if I was going full on crazy I might as well entertain the voices in my mind. "No, my life means nothing to me, and I do not fear death."

The mutt's head tilted the other way, so I decided to continue.

"I may fear the pain that comes before, but I do not fear death itself."

The mutt's head leveled out again, and it rose from its submissive posture to a tall, proud stance. It looked down on me from its head level of about 8 feet, and for a moment, its eyes flashed from yellow to green.

I didn't know what to make of the sudden change, until I was assaulted with a massive headache. The mutt's face remained straight as a board, (ha), and for a few moments my life was dragged out for all to see. I could see the mutts around me relax, their eyes adopting the light green shade that the alpha's had taken. I could see everything about every one of them as well. Every hunt they'd been on, every memory and emotion. To say it was overwhelming would be to say that hurricane Katrina was just a windy day.

The giant mutt in front of me paused for a moment, his eyes returning to their yellow hue before his deep voice echoed within my head again, "Raised like a pony, but with less mothers. Your life is that of prey, but. . . the recent years have been difficult. You've survived only by behaving as prey would, hiding from threats, cowering from danger. Yet when life called upon you to assist another, you treated others as part of your own pack. This is confusing to me," he let out a low growl, "I cannot decide, young one. So you will tell me. Are you prey, or are you predator?"

I crossed my legs, managing to push all the reactions, emotions and memories aside and respond through my suddenly dulled senses. "I would say that I'm both. I am a human, and we're omnivores. While I can hunt and eat meat whenever I want, I can also gather edible plants, and survive on pretty much anything from some grasses to fresh elk. I suppose what the question really should be is how crazy I've gone that I'm talking to a mutt."

The mutt growled threateningly, his voice booming through my skull. "Watch your tongue, dítě. I am no mutt, and to continue to call me by such a name would be to challenge my status as Alpha. We are wolves, and you would be wise to refer to us as such."

My hand flew to my SCAR at the sudden hostility, although I didn't really understand. "I suppose I'm sorry, it's just that where I'm from, after the bombs, many animals were irradiated. They would mutate a bit, losing their fur, having large burns across their bodies. The worst were the dogs, they would hunt in packs. I took to calling them mutts because they were mutated dogs. I figured that you had some sort of mutation as well, seeing as you're covered in wood." I shrugged, holding my hands out in a placating gesture. The wolf gave a raspy chuckle before his voice returned, much calmer than before.

"Ne, we are known as Timber Wolves. The ponies will tell you that we are evil forest spirits, or some form of demon. In fact, you now have the collective knowledge of this pack, as the memory exchange works both ways, mladý."

I thought about that for a minute, sorting through the mountains of information in my head, trying to make sense of it all. I saw some memories, a very small portion, of the lives that they'd lead before becoming wolves. They were once smaller, a couple of them only children when they'd been changed. From what I could gather among the mass of lifetimes, they were all much older than they appeared to be. I thought at first that they had the memories of several ponies they'd hunted before, but I dug a bit deeper into the Alpha's thoughts to be sure.

My vision swam for a moment as the memory surged to the front of my mind.

"SHADOW RUN!," a feminine voice screamed, the first thought through the small being's mind was 'mother'. Off in the distance stood a tall castle, many proud, gleaming spires rose into the sky, easily tens of stories tall. Fires raged throughout the city as ponies everywhere scrambled for safety. The sky above them turning orange from the flames.

The small being Geoff observed through, Shadow, glanced over his shoulder. He could just make out the bloody stump of a wing beneath a few hastily applied bandages. Behind him, he could see a larger pony, trapped beneath some burning rubble as her forehooves scraped the cobblestone street in a futile attempt to gain her freedom.

Shadow watched as the flames consumed the poor mare, and he ran for his life. Tears blurred his vision as he cut into an alleyway, where he hid beneath a pile of refuse and sobbed for hours.

When he finally emerged, there were no ponies in the streets, although he could hear the panicked cries of those trapped in collapsed buildings or trying to dig out the remains of their loved ones.

Above him, a battle was taking place. Two winged ponies were engaged in combat, firing beams of raw energy at each other. A few of these hit the ground around the remaining houses, some hit un burnt structures and set them ablaze. The young colt could do nothing but stare in awe at the two powerful combatants.

Then there was light. Pure, blinding white light. A few ponies in his field of view were instantly turned to ash, and then the heat hit him. He burned so quickly and so ferociously that he didn't even have time to cry out in pain. Although, his awareness remained. He could see his own ashes blowing down the street, his own shadow burnt into the bleached stone behind him.

He waited there, long after the fires died out, long after the survivors came through to remove the remains of the dead. Long after the forest encroached upon the now abandoned city. Eventually, the forest sought out his spirit, when a tree began to sprout beneath him, he was drawn into it. Over decades the tree grew, and his soul with it. He became more and more aware of his surroundings, noticing at first that he could feel the wind caressing his branches.

Over decades more, he began to change, and finally, after five hundred years of nothing but stillness and silence, over the course of a day his body reshaped itself.

The sudden change was immensely painful, causing him to go into a blind rage for days, blinded by the pain and the new sensations that his body brought. Without any semblance of self control he ran through the woods, howling and snarling as his hunger and pain drove him onward. He burst out of the forest, finding two ponies traveling on a road beside the trees, and tore them to shreds without hesitation.

Weeks later, he came across a tree laden with strange striped fruit. A fraction of his former self shone through for a moment, and he devoured one of the apples. The magic contained within the fruit numbed his pain, and sated his hunger. He regained control of himself in an instant.

I fell back to the ground, gasping for air as I relived someone else's life. A period of five hundred years condensed into little more than five seconds. I looked back at the wolf, feeling somewhat afraid again. He simply nodded.

"Every year, at the same time, new wolves awaken. The souls of those caught in the blast made by Celestia and Nightmare Moon inhabit several thousand trees, and every year, down to the exact second, more rise from their rest. We do not breed, as the ponies believe us to, but for days after our awakening we are ravenous, unintelligent monsters. Even after our enlightenment, which only comes with eating a ripe zap apple, we choose to fend for ourselves. These bodies, they would only terrify ponies into killing us. And though we easily reform ourselves after most hits, it would be only a matter of time until they turn to flame and magic and put us down for good."

His voice was filled with sorrow, a longing to go back to what he once was. I felt a sort of kinship with him, this Alpha, although I'd only known him for a few minutes. He was unfairly labeled a monster, condemned to this forest because he was a predator in this form. I was left speechless, my mouth opening and closing on its own accord.

"There is no need to say anything, human. We have accepted the change, and choose to guard ponies from our newly reborn brothers and sisters. However, I must warn you that the probuzení will happen soon. Tonight is the night that they break free of their static prison and join us in the waking world. I will escort you out of the forest, and to safety, but you must not venture into this place for some time after, as we will be on the hunt for any who pose a threat. Not to mention that other packs are not as patient as mine, and will gladly take you as a meal."

I nodded stupidly as the wolf lowered himself, offering me a ride to safety. I gladly accepted, and climbed aboard. The ride was not long, only a couple of hours, but the speed we traveled at was incredible. The long legs of the wolves ate up probably a dozen yards with each stride, propelling them at close to fifty miles an hour. I had to hunker down behind Alpha's shoulder blades to keep the wind from stinging my eyes. I was dumbfounded at their agility as well, dodging around and through the forest like it was a clear field.

Upon reaching the edge of the forest, Alpha allowed me to dismount. I turned to him, smiling, "Thank you, Alpha. If you ever are in need of anything, come find me. I won't forget your kindness."

The Alpha bowed his head, speaking again, "Think nothing of it, mladý. You have been through much hardship in your time, it is not entirely different from our own experiences. I do ask that you keep our origins a secret, as we have grown accustomed to our solitude. Also, be kind to those you come across. Even the angriest of dragons may sometimes be soothed with a kind word and helping paw. The ponies in this land are brilliant in their own right, but they are naive to many facts of the world. Stay strong, human."

I smiled up at him, "You too, Alpha. For those who cannot anymore." I gave him a deep bow as the pack nodded their farewells and retreated into the forest. They changed something within me, I wasn't sure what, but I felt refreshed. It wasn't human contact, but it was a hell of a lot more than I was used to.

With a new spring in my step, and a new limp as well brought about by my now absent toenail, I headed to the top of the hill behind me. I came to the top and looked around at the valley before me, and time stopped.

Highlighted by the orange and purple sunset was a town. Not a dead set of ruins like I was used to, but an actual town! The buildings weren't falling apart, there wasn't evidence of massive fires or destruction, just a happy little rural town!

And then my heart sank. I looked back at the memories, their significance finally hitting home. Magic, as I recalled the memory thinking. Ponies: unicorns, pegasi, earth, and alicorn. My breath grew short as I tried to fit it into my working model of reality, which wasn't fitting all too well. I sank to my knees, tears of both joy and despair in my eyes as I realized that this couldn't be the Earth I grew up on.

Maybe this is my heaven? I thought, Maybe this is my reward for my life, or maybe it's punishment for the wrongs I've committed. I let my rifle fall from my hands, where it rested in the grass beside me. A whole new life, possibly in a whole new world. I ran a hand through my still damp hair, before reeling back and slamming both fists into the ground with a loud scream. Not helping the fact that I couldn't make sense out of everything was the fact that the pack's memories were still swirling around my head. Constant whispers, screams of pain, it was grating on my nerves to feel so many lifetimes worth of suffering and sorrow.

I didn't know what to do. None of my plans fit a scenario like this, and so I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled my rifle to my chest, curling up atop the grassy hill. I pulled a picture from my wallet, a family portrait of myself and my mother and father. Looking at them, at that child that I was once upon a time, so happy and ignorant to real suffering and hardship. I cried myself to sleep that night, and my dreams were nothing but chaos. Fragments of other lives and experiences.

When I awoke, I was remarkably calm.

No, not calm, numb.

I hated this place, hated everything that had happened to bring me here and force me into this world. I hated myself for not persevering through my troubles and finding civilization back on Earth. But I couldn't take it out on anyone. I kicked the dirt angrily, deciding to blow off some steam by firing my SCAR for a bit. I aimed it at a tree on the edge of the forest I'd spent the day before wandering, and set the weapon on semi-automatic.

Twilight Sparkle was out at lunch with her friends, reminiscing about some of their adventures and laughing together. All of a sudden, every one of them fell silent, ears swiveling toward the eastern side of the town as they heard a distant noise.

POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP-POP

They looked at one another as the popping ceased, all wearing masks of confusion and a little fear. Twilight instantly made the connection between those sounds and the one she'd heard the prior afternoon, and just hoped that whatever was coming, it was something they could handle.

Author's Note

Here it is, chapter 2. I know I said not to expect frequent updates, but I just felt like writing for this one. Tried something I haven't seen yet with the Timberwolves, let me know what you think.

By the way, those strange words when Alpha is speaking, I'm using Czech as a kind of 'ancient Equestrian' for this one, and he'll slip into it from time to time when we see him.

Also, Alpha's real age? 1,008 years.

Translations:
mladý: Youngling
probuzení: Awakening
Ne: No