Hauling them all up to the surface wasn't too difficult, especially given the fact that my servants were unsleeping, unflinching zombies. Without the need for rest, I could set up a fairly decent system where each was dragged up to a point and then passed off to the next set of hands. Though I didn't have many servants at that moment, the dragon was more than strong enough to pick up the slack.

To make things a little smoother, I grabbed the dead solar scout and added him to my ranks, consuming his flesh and leaving naught but bones. He was delicious but netted me very little in the way of new skills or abilities. He was clearly the bottom of the totem pole, and more annoying still, he had no idea how to unscramble the note.

I will have a chance to remedy that, later. I thought to myself.

While I contemplated methods to get the hidden info I desired, my servants finished bringing the last of the dead to the surface. Numbering nearly forty, they were more numerous than first anticipated, I had a feeling that there were more out there. For one there were no thestral slaves, or bodies even for that matter. Sure they could have dumped them somewhere, but then why abduct them at all if they were just going to kill them immediately?

I had more tunnels to explore, and more dogs to question, but first they had to quit being dead. To that end I gathered them all up and assessed the damage raising them would reak on my stockpile of energy. It would be significant, but I had made a promise, and with their consent given I’d probably just barely make it all back. Either way, the damage to myself would be minimal at best, so I pushed my worries from my mind and got to work.

Acting through the dragon I worked my magic on one of the dogs at a time, though I stopped right before completing the final spell. It would take but a single push and the dominoes would fall, raising them as well as enacting the same protection I had used on Rainy. I waited until after I had completed my work on all of them before I hovered my nonexistent finger over the nonexistent button.

Before I brought them back, I sensed the approach of many individuals. The thestrals had moved swifter than anticipated, either that or I had been distracted longer than I thought. Either way, they were still an hour or two away at this point, so I had time to finish what I had planned before they arrived.

“Arise, my friends,” I commanded, lifting the dragon’s right claw high.

A pulse of magic accompanied the action, triggering the various spells and charms I had placed upon the dog’s corpses. As one they twitched, life returning to their forms while energy was spent and exchanged from them to me. In the end, I was happy to find that I was actually slightly better off than before, though I could feel a strange sense of exhaustion creeping up on me. This had taxed my reserves, and though I still had ample stock left, it was taking more strength than what should be necessary to call upon them.

Once more I brushed my musings aside, and focused on the ground before me, watching as the dogs began to stir.

One rose and began to look blearily at his surroundings, others just lay there, staring up at the sky. I could sense their panic and chose to dull it slightly, not wanting anyone to start freaking out. Thankfully that didn't happen, and I could see that recognition was sparking in the eyes of the newly returned dogs.

“Were… were alive,” one muttered.

“Not quite,” I had the dragon remark.

All eyes turned to the moss-covered monster I had hidden in the nearby trees. Their fear was immediate, but I made sure to keep it in check, at least for the moment anyway. That fear morphed into true understanding, as the dogs began to recall their final moments. Though I could keep panic averted forever if I wished, manipulating the emotions of these creatures for an extended period was not something I desired.

“As you can tell, you are undead,” I continued. “I know some of you did not give your consent to being raised, and you may rescind that consent at any time, I merely thought you may wish to say goodbye.”

Noone initially moved, but I could tell a few were dead set on dying a second time the moment they had spoken their piece.

“Though I know you know my name, I will introduce myself regardless. I am Xathrid,” I continued, making the dragon gesture back to my true body. “Though you are technically under my control, I swear to never make any attempt to infringe on your freedoms as a thinking, feeling creature.”

With that, I released any lingering control I had on their emotions, allowing them to process things as they desired. Murmured conversations were had, and though I could easily eavesdrop, I allowed them their privacy. Merely observing them, I noted that they were each dealing with their situation quite well, given everything that had happened to them.

“How… how did I die?” Someone asked.

“Memories of your death are fuzzy, and will likely never return, but to answer your question, methane poisoning,” I replied.

“I think that's probably for the best. I have a feeling it wasn't the most pleasant end,” someone else added.

A tall, slender female dog stepped forward, her mind already stirring with thoughts of compassion for her fellows. She looked to have been half-starved when she was alive, as I could see her jutting ribs. Her fur was grey, and a small tuft of black sprouted from the top of her head, all while her emerald eyes gazed unflinchingly at me.

“What about the others? There was more of us being held somewhere nearby,” she asked.

“I could not drag that information from the mind of your former captor,” I answered, puppeting the dead solar scout and giving the group a wave. “Though I have confidence that with your help we will find, and free them before anything bad happens to them.”

“Does anyone else know where they might be?” asked the female leader dog.

The others shook their head or looked away sadly. A few seemed to be wracking their memories for information but were coming up empty. Given the complete lack of recognition, I felt from the lot, I knew the answer was likely no, but I allowed them to keep thinking anyway.

“We should start searching soon. They will likely get stuck doing whatever they were last ordered to do until they die of thirst,” remarked the female dog.

“There will be time for that very soon,” I interrupted. “For now I’d like it if those who wish to depart would say their goodbyes.”

“Actually can that wait a bit?” replied the leader dog. “I know that more than a few among us had friends and family amongst the other group.”

“Fair enough,” I answered.

I wanted to slow things down, to hear their stories, and simply converse with them but I stymied that urge quite deliberately. Pushing it down deep, I recalled my other servants and started to think of how best to locate their missing companions. It was at this point I realized that I felt… not smarter, but quicker, my mind moving faster as if the extra brains at my disposal gave me increased processing power. It was noticeable with the animals, and the few other undead, but now it was pronounced to the point that it was undeniable.

“I feel a plan already forming in your mind, and I approve,” I stated. “But before you go, I would like to hear your names.”

“Alerund.”

“Bolinald.”

“Ramliel.”

“Yarodeck.”

“Nelach.”

And more were shouted, their faces being committed to memory alongside their names. I made mental note of who were on a temporary leave of unlife, and who were committed to their new existence. Though it was all quite interesting, I was waiting expectantly for the leader, who was quiet until all others had spoken.

“Tarashar,” stated the leader dog. “Formerly of the thirty-second outriders.”

“Interesting,” I remarked. “I would love to hear more of your history and people but I know you have desires elsewhere and I would not stand in the way.”

I had my servants gather up what crude supplies I had at the present and begin mustering at the edge of the grove.

“I will impart upon you what knowledge I have the area, with the hope being that you will locate your wayward companions,” I continued, doing so just after I had informed them as such. “I know this connection is a strange one, but please do not panic. You will get used to it.”

A few murmured disagreement, while most seemed unbothered by it. I could tell from their surface thoughts that they were simply appreciative of the utility it gave them. This seemed true for the majority of the dogs who were practical to a fault to begin with and likely had only become more so since their return to life.

“Split into three groups,” Tarashar ordered, pointing from individual to individual. “We will check the places Xathrid has marked for us first, from there we will expand in a grid-based pattern for ten miles. If that accomplishes nothing we will have to try and dig through the rubble of the tunnel in the castle basement.”

Three parties were formed in no time at all, my undead solar scouts accompanying them in this task. Split across the squads, I had hope that their weapons would remain unneeded and that no harm would befall the dogs. Only time would tell, however, so I focused on watching them go, my undead taking the lead at the front of the various packs. Throughout it all, I occasionally caught Tarashar glancing in my direction, a swirling miasma of questions and concerns filling her mind. She wanted to talk, to grill me but was unwilling to speak mentally with me, the dog too unnerved by the mere thought even to entertain the notion.

I made a mental note to set aside time and really talk with her, but that would have to come later. For now, I could sense that a relatively large group of mostly thestrals had entered my forest. Though they walked mostly without fear, I could sense that there were some among them who were terrified. Their frantic steps and nervous shifting sent ripples through the network of green that covered my domain.

Getting eyes on them, I found that they were a motley crew, and not the one that I had been assuming would arrive. There were a few thestrals I recognized in their number, namely Pen Stroke as well as a few others but the rest were new. Not just new, but clearly not from around here, as they carried with them large saddle bags stuffed with supplies.

Checking in quickly with Rainy, I could tell from a glance around her that the rest of the thestrals had only just departed. With Tall Order at their helm, and the deathguard watching their back, they were making slow but steady progress. This group, I summarized, must have flown here, and must have met up with the ragtag group of survivors that were only supposed to be here in a few days.

My thoughts were cut off by the realization that there was a solar scout in their mix, not just one either but an entire squad. Though not nearly as decked out as the others I had crossed, they had the same style of armor and weapons. Even the eyes of my undead bugs could tell that the enchantments were not as strong, and their equipment not as high caliber.

Border guards, or a wayward patrol, I thought to myself. Yet the thestrals weren't keeping them at knifepoint, so clearly they weren't prisoners. Deserters most likely, I figured.

It was at that point that I realized that I could simply ask, so I focused on my connection to the green and politely made a request. In response, the trail the thestrals were using, widened, and the various poisonous or offensive plants retreated. The thestrals were not surprised, but the rest panicked, closing ranks, with the solar scouts taking the outer guard.

They are trusted, I noted. Clearly, there was a story there, one I was eager to hear. Thankfully the thestrals calmed them down, and soon they were moving once more but I could tell they were unnerved. The solar scouts kept their weapons close and their heads on a swivel, but I didn't mind. If Pen Stroke trusted these fellows, then so would I, besides, I was the one with an enormous undead dragon on my side.

Sure enough, they made their way to me in short order, quicker now that the passage was widened and they didn't have to watch their step for poisonous mushrooms. The first to enter, was predictably, Pen Stroke, the thestral striding confidently into the grove as a sort of show of safety to the others. This seemed to do the trick, as the rest followed right after him, gawking silently at the canopy of green that nearly blotted out the lingering rays of sunlight.

A sun, I noted, which was falling low in the sky at this point. Evidently, my little adventure had taken longer than anticipated, as I had completely lost track of time. Not like it mattered, so I put such middling concerns from my mind and focused on my newfound visitors.

“Welcome,” I began, the plant-covered dragon rising from his spot directly in front of my main body. “To my grove. I am Xathrid.”

That caused another brief stir, but I also saw recognition stir in their eyes, meaning Pen Stroke had forewarned them. Though clearly, they had not been expecting what they now saw, as they looked equal parts confused and terrified.

“What is this Pen Stroke? I thought you said that this was a ghoultree. Not a ghoul dragon… thing,” muttered one of the solar scouts who was bold enough to walk beside Pen Stroke.

“It seems as though Xathrid has planted a new garden,” Pen Stroke remarked.

“Yes, I thought to decrease the spookiness factor of my primary servant,” I answered. “What do you think? Better or worse than bare bones?”

“It's much nicer,” Pen Stroke replied, sounding slightly relieved. “The old visage was a grim sight and not one I wished to gaze upon.”

“Do you like the flowers I planted in his eye sockets?” I pressed, wiggling the dragon’s head. “I thought it was a cute touch.”

“Flowers, cute touch. You are not what I expected,” muttered the solar scout.

I noted that the others behind him were begging to relax, and spread out, some sitting down while others made their way to the pond.

“It should be safe to drink, though it probably won't taste very good at the moment. I haven't had the chance to plant any mint or tea plants,” I commented.

The various creatures took note of my warning and seemed to appreciate my words. As they shed their packed gear I was able to note that there were crystal ponies, and kirin in their midst. Or at least I assumed so, as my knowledge was mostly stolen from the dead, and I had never met any myself yet. Either way that was a concern for later, and I looked down at a slightly awkward, yet still grinning Pen Stroke.

“I hope that you didn't have too much trouble recently,” Pen Stroke remarked.

“No, why?” I asked back.

Pen Stroke gestured to the drag marks and spots of blood on the ground from where I had laid the diamond dogs.

“Oh, that!” I exclaimed. “Long story short, I found some of the diamond dogs and the rest of the solar scout squad. The scout culled all the diamond dog prisoners, but I brought them back, and avenged them by slaying their slayer.”

The solar scout present winced visibly, and seemed uncomfortable, but didn't make a move to leave. He had a spine, that much was certain, though how much spine I would soon find out. Before then though, I took note of his rather unique appearance.

He had fur the shade of freshly cut wheat, and his mane was rather fittingly, the shade of freshly cut grass. The guy screamed farmer, and this was made doubly apparent by the fact that he was an earth pony. He also sported a cutie mark that was literally just a bucket full of apples, or a bushel, If I remembered correctly.

The rest of his squad was close on his heels, the majority of which shared a few similarities with him. The closest was a female with bright red hair tied into a pair of braids, who had light green fur that bordered on becoming blue. Next was a silently glaring mare who like the leader, and the previous female, was also an earth pony. She had a curly mane of gold, with fur a few shades lighter and green eyes. Last but not least was yet another female who had a brown coat, and a light brown mane, she was busying herself with the others by the pond at the moment.

“I am glad at least that they cannot hurt any others now,” he concluded finally.

“Did they use those vile collars?” asked the red-haired one, anger evident in her voice.

“Unfortunately,” I answered.

The pony turned and spat on the ground. “Good riddance,” she declared.

“Now dear they were still ponies,” the leader replied in a low tone.

“Once they sink that low, they are no longer ponies,” declared the red-haired girl.

“Speaking of not being a pony,” picked up the curly-haired pony who had been glaring at me. “How can we trust you? You're not a pony, heck you ain't a flesh and blood creature.”

“Well I at least have a name, and the courtesy to introduce myself when acquaintances are made,” I shot back.

“Where are my manners?” declared the leader. “I am Bushel, this is my wife Candy Apples.”

He paused and gestured to the one who had spat earlier, and who was already in my good books.

“My sister, Caramel Apple,” he continued, pointing to the glaring one with the curly mane. “And finally, Mjolna.”

The brown pony stopped to wave briefly at me before going back to unloading supplies.

“We are deserters from the border. Our job was originally just to serve as border guards, but after the hooplah with the griffons began we were assigned to be the reinforcements for the uh… folk you killed,” he explained, stumbling a bit at the end.

“Interesting, why would you dessert anyway? You seem like a family man, or stallion I should say,” I pressed.

“Oh I’d like to be, but the truth is the rest of our folks ain't around no more, and well we saw what they were doing to those diamond dog critters,” Bushel continued.

“Such barbaric behavior is not what I signed up for,” stated the red-haired one.

“Yeah, it ain't right. Stealing people’s life forces and making slaves of em and all,” spat the fluffy-haired one, who I was starting to be annoyed by.

“Well it's a good thing the only ones to make slaves are the ponies with golden armor,” I shot back.

To her credit, the mare didn't back down, earning her a few more brownie points in my book.

“Let's not get into that at the moment there Mel,” interrupted Bushel.

“Whatever,” muttered Caramel, trotting away to assist the others.

“Well, then I’m glad that didn't get any more heated,” Pen Stroke declared.

“They can meet and chat with those I have brought back once they return with the rest of the diamond dogs. For now, feel free to make yourself at home,” I exclaimed. “It ain't much at the moment, but the caves should be comfortable, and you’ll have plenty of food.”

“Hmm, gonna need to set up something a little better eventually,” Bushel muttered, looking around the area as if he were sizing up a spot to place a house. “Ain't much arable land round here either.”

“There is plenty nearby,” Pen Stroke interrupted. “Further to the south there is a great plain that seems to be a perfect spot for a farm, and it isn't that vast a distance from Xathrid’s forest.”

“Let's not call it that,” I interrupted. “I don't want to get a big head over it ya know. Plus it's not my forest, it's our forest.”

“Well I ain't much for namin things, so I think I’m gonna take this chance to curl up somewhere quiet and catch a few z’s. It was nice meetin you, Xathrid,” Bushel exclaimed, waving before trotting off.

“Yes, I look forward to speaking to you further, soon,” Candy Apples declared.

That left Pen Stroke and I alone for the moment.

“Not a bad bunch,” I stated earnestly.

“Yes, we certainly are glad they defected, and not only because it sped things up a little for the others,” Pen Stroke muttered somewhat absently.

“So, what's this about griffons?” I inquired.

“Apparently they are raiding the eastern fringes in earnest. Likely emboldened due to the recent chaos,” Pen Stroke answered. “Worse yet for the equestrians, the northerners are revolting. Apparently, some kind of religious clampdown has caused a schism amongst them. I don't know the details, but our crystal pony friends may.”

I glanced over at them and noted that they seemed intent on simply getting some food in their bellies, and some rest for their bones.

“I’ll ask them later,” I offered.

“Wise,” Pen Stroke murmured.

“Some of them have been hiding, and marching for months to escape Celestia’s gaze,” Pen Stroke added.

“Interesting,” I paused and turned fully to Pen Stroke. “Any other news from the wider world?”

“Nothing good,” Pen Stroke answered. “Tons of refugees are flooding down here. Apparently, the letter I managed to get out caused quite a stir amongst the others.”

“That's good though, right?” I asked.

“On the one hoof, it will mean that they can come live here, free from the scrutiny of Canterlot, but that won't always be the case,” Pen Stroke began. “Eventually they will put down these rebellions, and sign some manner of agreement with the griffins. Once that happens they’ll turn their attention once more to the south.”

“By then we’ll be ready for them,” I stated confidently.

“Hopefully, but I think we should be prepared to make peace, or at least offer terms. The ire of an alicorn is not something to be taken lightly,” Pen Stroke warned.

“That's a bridge we won't have to cross for some time. In the meantime you all will remain ever free,” I paused. “Ever free, ever free. That sounds almost like it would make a good name for the forest.”

“Either way I am too old and too tired to assist you with such a task. I will be taking my leave for the moment,” Pen Stroke concluded.

“Of course. Make yourself at home, and if you need anything at all, do let me know,” I pressed.

The elderly thestral smiled and gave me a curt nod. “I appreciate it Xathird. I would bid you sweet dreams though I’m not certain if your kind sleeps.”

“We do, sort of. In fact, I’ll probably be joining you in a few minutes here. I must make sure my new guests are well taken care of, after all,” I stated.

Pen Stroke nodded as he walked off, grabbing a bed roll and some food from the pile before heading into the cave.

As I watched him go, I mused idly about the brief bit of good luck we had. No longer would I need to fear these reinforcements from the north, nor would I have to worry about any solar attention for a while anyway. Leaving me plenty of time to help the thestrals, build out the forest, and relax. And provided the dogs returned quickly with both the prisoners and the other dogs, all the immediate problems would be solved.

With that in mind, I looked out over the gathered groups of ponies. All of them were either sleeping or were gathered together in small tight-knit groups. Their conversation was hushed, but the speakers were relaxed, a few among them already nodding off.

Clearly, they weren't about to run off into the woods, nor did they need anything. So I recalled the dragon and had it curl about my trunk before I let myself drift off. If I had a face, I would have smiled contentedly, so instead I simply gave my branches a little wiggle.

Things were turning out pretty okay.

So far.

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