Big Mac snorted as Applejack peeled off to check up on their sister. Apple Bloom wasn't the one who needed watching over today. If she had any idea of what he went through to deliver these pies...

He shook his head and and pulled out his map. This route was awful. He bit his lip just looking at it. It'd be easier to dig his way to Tartarus with a tangled slinky. It was like some sadistic pony had heaped every obstacle imaginable into the smallest possible space and drew a line through it. Well, it wasn't really that bad, but in other ways it was much worse. This route took him all the way up to the edge of the map—and further still past that.

He shook his head again and folded it up. He could always give up and go someplace easier. He thought about doing that every year. Nopony would blame him. No sane pony would ever consider this journey. As far as he knew, he was the only pony who ever dared to go there. In all honesty, nopony else even knew the place was really real. It was like something straight out of a fairytale. So if he stopped...

Big Mac paused. The wheels of his pie cart jerked and came to rest. He leaned down and plucked a piece of grass to chew on. Off the side of the road here was nothing more than murky wilderness. He thought about the ponies at the end of his journey. It was so sad to think of them trapped there like that, but they always loved to see him and his pies. They depended on him and him alone to bring them stuff (he carried a bit more than just pies) and he always loved seeing their faces. Big Mac spat out his grass and marched on. His mind was made up. The pies must get through. He wouldn't give up this route for the world.

Along the road, Big Mac paid careful attention to the sign posts so as not to miss his exit. Dodge Junction? Nope. Rainbow Falls? Nope. Galloping Gorge? Nope. Hayseed Swamps? Almost. Warning! Quicksand—Keep out!? Bingo.

Ignoring the warning, he pulled his cart off the main road into the most dangerous part of the mire. It reeked of swamp gasses and the thick growths of mangrove trees overgrown with vines made this part of the journey difficult—not to mention the quicksand. The quicksand was bad too. This place was only accessible twice per year: by boat during the spring floods, and by land at the height of the summer dry spell. Big Mac picked up a broken branch and poked at the ground in front of him. There'd be no point in entering if he was just going to sink. The ground seemed spongy but firm enough to hold his weight. The pie cart was heavier, but he was confident he could pull it free if it started sinking. Around him bubbles of gas blorped up through puddles of wet quicksand. He'd have to very carefully choose his path. The swamp was always shifting and he could never use the same route twice.

Foul sulfurous gas hung in the air as he very slowly made his way thorough. The stench was nauseating, but he could always take a whiff of his pies for a more pleasant odor. He prodded, stomped, and pulled his cart over vertical roots and tufts of swamp grass. The wheels of his cart got tangled with vines and caked with mud but he never got stuck for long. At least the foul odors and the summer heat kept the mosquitoes and black flies at bay. But those were hardly the worst things that a pony could encounter in a swamp.

Plip. Plorp. “Yap!” Uh, oh...

Big Mac felt a chill race along his spine. He looked to the east.

Plip. Plorp. “Yap! Yap! Yap!” Plip.

The murky horizon seemed to undulate with the rise and fall of hundreds of little yapping puppy-faced fish things with hundreds of razor-sharp teeth. They yapped and snapped at the air with such viciousness that it brought to mind the epic slaughter of wrapping paper at Pinkie's last birthday party. Big Mac frantically unhitched himself and scampered up the nearest vine into the branches of a black mangrove tree. It creaked ominously and he bit his hoof. This tree had better hold his weight.

A nasty fish-dog thing jumped up and snapped at the air under his tail. Big Mac whimpered. This was far closer than he ever wanted to be to a chihupiranha migration. Another one jumped up and fell short of its goal of biting him. He had no doubt that a swarm like this could skeletonize a pony in far less time then he ever cared to know.

Hiss.

Big Mac's eyes popped open and slowly swiveled towards his 'vine.' He shifted his full weight onto the tree itself and released it. All he could do was grin sheepishly at the angry face of a ten-foot python. It struck.

Big Mac nearly jumped out of his skin, but it hadn't bit him. The snake held a flopping fish-dog in its mouth. It slithered up into the tree to swallow its meal. He gave a series of short little huffs bordering on hyperventilation. The sooner he could get out of this awful swamp the better.

The snake shouldn't bother him again, so he watched the nasty yapping things as they swarmed past. They jumped between the pools of quicksand while heading west. The places they avoided would be safe for him to travel.

Once the migration was over, he shimmied down the tree and hitched himself up again. At least his pies were safe; chihupiranhas were strict carnivores. They... should all be past, right? He took a deep breath. He had to remember to stay calm.

Plorp.

A gas bubble popped next to him and he ran screaming like a little filly.

Thankfully, even panicked he still remembered to stick to the dry spots. With herculean strength he forced the pie cart through the underbrush after him. He broke through the edge of the mangroves and paused at the sight of the strangely-forested craggy slope beyond.

The ground itself might not be trying to kill him here, but this place was home to far nastier things than evil fish. Big Mac paused to still his racing heart and catch his breath. His breath came in heavy heaves, but he clammed up when he spotted the nests. Harpies...

This was the first time he'd seen those here. Usually this part of the route was lined with rock vipers that were made from actual rocks. Harpies were strange flying creatures that looked like birds that had been stretched vertically. That was the best way he could describe them. They had long avian legs with huge, sharp, flesh-tearing talons, and, well, he could care less about the rest of them.

Harpy nests were very distinctive structures. They hung beneath the thick limbs of the giant sycamore trees like teardrops made from vine and sticks. Immense fig fruits also hung off these branches and the harpies he could see were at work harvesting them. Big Mac relaxed a bit. Perhaps those things didn't eat ponies after all.

He was bound to attract attention, but he could still try to sneak as far as he could. Big Mac reached into a compartment in the wagon and pulled out some oil to grease the wheels with. It wasn't much, but it would help keep the noise down. Carefully, one step at a time, Big Mac pulled the wagon up the hill. He had to focus on the ground to watch his step. He avoided loose rocks and carefully removed fallen branches and dried leaves from his path. His efforts got him halfway up the slope. Perhaps he could make it the whole way after all.

“What here?”

Big Mac came to a stop as a harpy hovered in front of him. Now that he had a closer look at it, he could see that its wings took the place of where its forelegs would be if it were a pony. It's torso was nearly bald save for a shirt that covered two strange bulges in its chest. It had a weird crooked beak-like pinkish nose, beady eyes, and a mouth full of triangular teeth.

Big Mac flipped open a panel on his cart. “Pies.”

That harpy and a few others others fluttered close to the cart to sniff at the air. “Smell good.”

Big Mac grinned and propped the panel open with its wooden support legs. He wouldn't mind sacrificing a few pies to get through here safely.

“Pies no good to eat!” A new harpy flew in and scolded the others. It was larger, wore gold bracelets around its ankles, and had a necklace and headdress made from bones. This must be the chief. “No meat there. We eat pony.”

Uh oh. “Ee-Nope.” Big Mac ran, or rather, lurched. He couldn't build up speed quickly while hauling a cart of pies uphill on the uneven rocky ground.

“Hunt it!” The chief pointed a taloned foot in his direction.

Even if Big Mac could have run freely, it still wouldn't have been much of a chase. They could fly, and that trumps running any day. He ducked as a harpy swooped down and tried to rake him with its talons. It screeched and flew up for another pass. Big Mac tore off one of the wooden legs propping open the panel on his pie cart. It was long enough to make a decent weapon. He swung it with his mouth. The next harpy to dive down got a face-full of wooden stick.

“Ouch.” The harpy hobbled off to rub its bruised face with a wing. The others hung back as well, intimidated by his weapon. He took advantage of this short impasse to keep lurching uphill. Up at the top, there was cliff face full of caverns. They couldn't follow him if sheltered in one of those.

“Fools! After it!” The chief squawked.

Big Mac bit his stick and prepared to fight. The harpies separated into two groups of two each and flanked him on both sides. So that was their plan? He rolled a rock with a hind leg and turned to face the group on his left. He knelt down low and snorted.

“Now!” the chief bellowed. The harpies screeched piercing warcries and dove in. Big Mac flicked his rock up and gave it a good kick. A 'thud' and startled squawks rewarded his efforts. The ones in front approached with talons outstretched but his stick was longer and he swatted them hard. Three injured harpies lay collapsed on the ground groaning while the fourth one panicked and flew off.

That went much better than he'd hoped. Once again, Big Mac lurched his cart uphill. The caves weren't too far away and he'd be safe there. He was already approaching the shadow of the cliff. With luck, he'd reach them before the harpies gathered reinforcements.

“Idiots.” Big Mac heard the voice of the chief, but when he looked up all he saw was a huge rock held with large talons hovering above his head. He panicked and pulled even harder but his cart hindered his attempt to flee. There wasn't enough time to unhitch himself. He was a sitting duck. The rock grew smaller as the chief flew up to drop it from a greater height. “Die now.”

Crunch!

Big Mac dove to the ground and buried his head under his forelegs and trembled–

Panicked squaws and wingbeats filled the air above him, slightly to one side. What? What just happened?

He uncovered his head and looked up. His heart jumped at the sight of a huge, scaly neck. Quarray eel. That was new. So much for the safety of the caves...

Big Mac huffed short breaths and glanced down at a small pebble in front of him. It was greenish from copper deposits. He shook his head and pulled himself upright. He had to keep moving. Quarray eels wouldn't bother him unless he passed in front of a cave, and he wasn't stupid enough to do that. This would leave him exposed to the air but the harpies were too busy trying to extract their leader from the jaws of that monster to bother him any further.

This might not have been Big Mac's worst experience on this route, but it was among the most harrowing. Well, it was still too early to make that call. The route wasn't over yet. Past the cliff face full of eels, the terrain sloped down again.

Rocky ground gave way to dried, cracked mud. Long-dead tree trunks rose up from the ground with twisted limbs, spooky hollows, and dark, wandering shadows. There was no sign of life here. The place looked as if it were haunted. Big Mac knew this to be true.

The shadows had eyes, red eyes, red, evil eyes, and they were starting to awaken as the sun dipped low in the sky. He trudged on. The pie cart rolled behind him. These ghosts were a type of spirit known as umbrachnids, or shadow spiders. By day, they lingered in the shadows of death cast by the dead husks they clung to. By night, they swarmed. He'd rather not know what happened to the victims they caught. Their red eyes were joined by thin, shadowy legs. His presence here had riled them up.

The ground curved up, one last time, like the curve at the bottom of a ski-jump. Big Mac stopped. Beyond him there was nothing—literally nothing. He stood atop an impossibly tall cliff face that stretched down forever into an inky black void. Gray fog hung low in the air far in the distance. This was the very edge of the world itself. Equestria stopped here. Behind him, the shadows grew bolder and skittered atop the dead trees.

Big Mac pulled out his map. He already knew what it said, but it didn't hurt to check again. The trail continued all the way up to this edge... and further past it a few more dashes. He rolled it up, and put the parchment away. Looking down over the edge of the world he kicked a chunk of dirt off. It bounced down into the depths of infinity, falling forever into the inky sea of blackness.

This was the tricky part.

Big Mac turned around and pushed his cart back up the hill a short distance. He unhitched himself and walked behind it. The shadowy spiders watched him from atop their perches while waiting for darkness to fall. It wouldn't be much longer now. The day was almost over.

Big Mac sucked on a hoof to moisten it and held it up in the air. He had to wait for exactly the right time. A light breeze picked up and stirred the still air. This was no ordinary wind. It was made from final whispers, the last breaths of the living. These sad, eerie sighs rode the edge of the sunset off into the world beyond. They chilled his hide as they brushed against his body. The spiders chattered and started swarming down onto the ground. Almost...

His fur rose with the tingle of powerful magic. Now.

Big Mac heaved and shoved. The cart lurched and rolled downhill. Hundreds of beady red eyes on thin black legs ran after him. He hoped that none of them were leapers. The cart built up speed and he grabbed and clung to the back right as it hit the upslope and jumped off the edge of the world. A few of the shadowy spiders tumbled off trying to catch him. He looked down.

This... was the worst part. Below him there was nothing. The air whistled by. He arced up, and tilted back down. Below him there was nothing. He was falling. Did he mess up? Had he been too early?

A light blue glow suddenly erupted below him. The sea of darkness parted to reveal an immense white spherical object that rose up to greet him. It was as large as several hundred mountains all balled-up together. Its surface was marred with innumerable cracks and craters. Big Mac leaned a little to the left and aimed for one of those. He was falling almost vertically and his cart was poised to make a nose-dive.

Even in this last fraction of a second before the impact, Big Mac couldn't help but listen to that annoying part of his mind that felt obligated to nag him over trivial stuff. Strange, the magic was blue again. It was always yellow before.

His cart hit the cusp of a crater and rolled straight down the near-vertical cliff. With immense speed, he rolled through the crater itself and was launched up off the other side. Sailing through the air again as the giant, immense rock floated away, Big Mac felt himself arc up again. He was far, very far, from the edge of the world now. When his arc reached its apex he plunged into the gray fog.

…

His cart rolled to a stop. It was dark. The fog obscured everything. He remained there panting until he'd recovered from his ordeal. Carefully, he reached a hoof down and tapped the ground. It felt solid like stone but sounded hollow and tinny.

“Mother? Is that you? Have you finally returned?”

Big Mac winced when a candle was lit. In this darkness, even the small flame nearly blinded him. He blinked and stepped away from the cart so that the shadowy cloaked figure could get a better look at him.

“Eeeee! It's you!” The figure threw her hood back and Big Mac smiled at her bright and excited face. She was a mostly tan calico unicorn with brown ears and a cream muzzle. “Pies! Everypony, pies are here!”

The bland gray landscape suddenly became peppered with little lights. The fog seemed to roll back as about two dozen ponies crawled out of dark cavernous spaces carrying dim candles and lanterns however they could. There were almost thirty of them in all and their numbers were almost evenly split amongst earth pony, unicorn and pegasus. All of them squealed with delight.

“Pies! Pies!”

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, it's really you!”

“They smell so good.”

Big Mac lifted the panel on his pie cart and blinked. He frowned and tore the side panel off completely when he realized that he'd lost the poles to prop it open. Those ponies didn't care and he found himself passing out pies to wide eyes and smiling faces. They didn't have any money. Their smiles were thanks enough. Well, he assumed they were still smiling. Their faces were all buried in pie tins making slurping smacking noises. They weren't very civilized.

Not that Big Mac could blame them, really. There were things that looked like trees here, but he wasn't sure how they could grow in this eternal darkness let alone provide any fruit. He was fairly certain that these ponies lived off of mushrooms mainly.

While they ate, he walked amongst them and tapped on the shoulder of a dark blue pegasus colt. That pony's cloak was in a tattered, ratty state and Big Mac pointed at the cart. They walked together and the smaller pony slurped and licked at the last few crumbs from his pie tin. Big Mac went behind the cart and pulled open the drawer with his travel supplies. From it, he removed a fresh cloak and offered it to the pony.

“A new cloak?” The colt gasped then brushed past Bic Mac to peek in the drawer. “Fresh blankets too! Oh, thank you! Thank you so much.”

The tan unicorn mare he first met stepped up next to him. “And oil for the lanterns. And a reed flute. How did you know that Lullaby broke hers?”

“A new flute!?” A white earth pony bumped past them and pulled it out. She blew it a few times to test the notes. “It's perfect!”

“I don't know how you do it, but you always bring the few things that we need the most,” the unicorn said.

“And pies,” Big Mac added. He gave them a wide grin.

“Of course, pies.” She smiled back at him.

Speaking of which, the ponies had about finished with them and moved onto playing games with the pie tins. Some wore the tins like a hat while a couple of others rolled them around or spun them to watch them wobble. Big Mac wasn't exactly a party pony, but he did have a trick or two to liven things up a bit.

“Ahem.” Big Mac adjusted a little bow tie that he put on for just this occasion. “Bum dum, ba-da-bum dum–”

Lullaby caught on to his tone and added her music to his voice. Together their harmony shushed the other ponies and infected them with their beat. Ponies tapped, hummed, and clanged pie tins together to add to this wordless expression of music. Their tones carried off into the night. How far? Not very far, really. The pervasive gray fog seemed to swallow it up.

This was just the beginning, and they started dancing and singing for real. Despite all the grayness, despite all the dark fog and the still close air, these ponies were some of the most energetic, happy and hopeful ponies that he'd ever met. Sure, they had reason to be happy when he was around, but then again so did he. With so little stuff of their own, his small gifts meant far more to them than even the most lavish gifts ever did to a rich pony's spoiled filly.

They sang and danced and played throughout the night, but this was the middle of summer and the nights were short. Big Mac pulled away from the crowd and started closing up his wagon. He'd have to leave soon. He'd braved quicksand, furry piranhas, harpies, quarray eels, and even the lingering shadows at the edge of the world. That was the easy part. He choked up and turned away. His eyes grew watery. This was always the hardest part of his journey: saying goodbye.

“Is it that time already?” the tan unicorn asked.

Big Mac nodded. he had a sad look on his face.

“You've been here enough that I know what you want to ask.” She shook her head. “We followed our mother here countless moons ago, and we will await her return for countless more.”

“But–”

“This is a land of enchantment. We may look young, but appearances can be deceiving. No, we cannot truly leave until she returns for us. And she will. We have faith in her. We are forever her children of the night.” She pulled up her cloak and snuffed out her candle. A dim glow on the horizon marked the urgency of Big Mac's departure.

The other ponies took this as a sign that the night was over and said their thanks in chorus. They could not be out during the day and retreated into the dark hollows that served as their homes. As much as it pained his heart, Big Mac waved his goodbye then stuck his hoof in his mouth and held it up into the air. As before, he had to wait for exactly the right moment to take his leap of faith and jump over the moon.

“We are forever her children of the night who just so happen to be full of the most delicious pies that we've ever tasted.”

Powerful magic made his fur stand on end. Big Mac shed a tear and started pushing his cart.

“We will see you again next year, right?—Right!?” She called after him.

In the distance, through the fog, she head a 'Eeyep.'

Author's Notes:

Don't know who these ponies are? It's worth the time to take five minutes and watch the animation. [source]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jW5n3k2VgZE